Rhun took a deep breath and fought for composure. He should know better than to argue with his brother. Bridei was always able to twist things, to prick at his doubts and make him uneasy and unsettled with the beliefs he had honored all his life. “Perhaps I should tell Arthur how you truly feel about things,” he said coldly. “Perhaps then he would be less eager to send you to argue his cause among the merchants of Londinium.”
“Oh, I will be persuasive enough with them, do not doubt it.” Bridei raised a dark brow and his eyes grew ironic and amused. “The thing is, I don’t have to believe what I say in order to be convincing. Even now, can you be certain what I’ve just said is really what’s in my heart? Perhaps I was just playing with you, trying to see if I could make you angry.” He burst out with a brilliant smile. “And, as always, I have succeeded. Your passion and sincerity are going to be your undoing, big brother.”
“I would rather be a fool who wears his convictions on his sleeve than a heartless wretch like you!”
“Heartless? How am I heartless? Who have I hurt?” Bridei shrugged. “I don’t wield a sword. I don’t kill and maim. I would say I’m actually more kindhearted than you are.”
Rhun shook his head. It was hopeless. Bridei was like a slippery eel, too elusive and cunning to ever be trapped. “I suppose if we’re going to Londinium, we must make plans,” he said, changing the subject. “We should consider what supplies to take and what sort of escort we will need.”
Bridei nodded. “The smaller the escort, the better. We don’t want to appear on the streets of Londinium with a band of spear-toting warriors. We’ll need only few men. They can act as our servants while we play the role of fun-loving noblemen out to explore the city.”
“And what of Eastra? How will we explain her being with us?”
“Anyone can tell by looking at her she is Saxon. Except for the merchants—to whom we might possibly reveal her true circumstances if it appears to aid our cause—we will tell everyone else she is your leman.”
“My leman? That’s appalling! An insult to my honor and hers!”
“Perhaps, but can you think a better explanation for her being with us? One that won’t alert the Saxons in Londinium that we are holding one of their women as a hostage?”
Rhun clenched his jaw tight. He hated how Bridei was always able to make what he dreaded most seem like the best possible course of action.
“I will go see about the escort,” Bridei said. “That way you can return to your ladylove and make her comfortable.” Although Rhun could not see his brother’s expression in the darkness, he knew he was grinning.
* * *
“Princess Eastra?”
She gave a little gasp at the sound of his deep voice behind her. Then she sat up in the cart and turned to see Rhun’s tall form, the sunkissed strands of his hair glinting in the light from the torch he carried. A sense of deep relief washed over her. “Oh,” she said. “You startled me.”
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t certain this was the right cart. Arwistyl should have brought you a torch so you wouldn’t have to sit in here in the dark.”
Rhun sounded angry as he fastened his torch to a spear shaft and stuck it in the ground. Eastra thought about the young soldier who had brought her the food—his soft, unformed features, the sprinkling of freckles across his nose. She did not want Rhun to punish the youth. “Arwistyl brought me something to eat and treated me with every courtesy,” she said quickly. “I’m certain he got busy with other things or he would have come back with a torch.”
“Not likely,” Rhun grumbled as he dug in one of the saddle packs lying near the cart. “He’s probably off somewhere playing knucklebones and drinking wine right now.” He straightened suddenly and turned toward her. “I wanted to come and tell you—our plans have changed. Instead of setting out for my homeland, tomorrow we will travel to a place called Londinium.”
She could sense the tension in his body. “Is something wrong?” she asked. “Is there going to be a battle there?”
“Nay. Arthur and the rest of the army aren’t going. Only you and I and my cursed brother. And a small escort, of course. It’s not safe to travel anywhere in Britain these days without a troop of fighting men.”
Rhun and Bridei had obviously been arguing again. She hoped their conflict had nothing to do with her. She didn’t want to be responsible for coming between Rhun and his close kin. The ties of family were too precious to forsake for any reason—certainly not for a woman who was by rights their enemy.
“I have heard of Londinium,” she said. “My father used to go there to buy trading goods. Years ago it was.” As always, she knew a pang of grief at the thought of her family and her lost childhood. “Is that why we are going there? To purchase trading goods?”
Rhun didn’t answer immediately. Then he said, “Aye, that is it. There are some things I would like to buy to take back to Gwynedd to my father and stepmother.”
She had thought he would say they were buying supplies for Arthur’s army. It surprised her to think they would make such a journey simply to purchase gifts for his family. “Are you fond of your stepmother?” she asked.
Rhun nodded. “She is a gentle, loving soul, and has always treated me like I was her own. My own mother died when I was not yet a man, so I appreciated her kindness. Besides, she makes my father happy, and he has endured so much tragedy and suffering in his life he deserves to know some peace in his later years.”
The way he spoke of his family brought tears to Eastra’s eyes. She thought of all she had lost, and the ache that filled her was almost unbearable.
“There is one thing,” Rhun said, breaking into her gloom. “While we are in Londinium, we must give some explanation for why a Saxon woman is traveling with us. Bridei has come up with an idea, but I don’t think you will agree to it. If his plan distresses you, rest assured I will not insist on it, but will find some other means to explain things.”
“What is his plan?”
Rhun took a deep breath. “He wants me to say that you are my leman.”
His leman. With any other man, the idea would distress her, but with this one—wasn’t this what she truly wanted, to have Rhun love her and take her maidenhead? “I have no objection,” she answered.
“You don’t? But... perhaps you don’t understand. Men will think that I... that we... that we share a bed, that we are intimate.”
“I know what it means,” she said. “Is it considered so shameful among your people for a man and a woman who are not married to lie together?”
“Nay, I suppose not. My own mother was my father’s leman, so I can hardly condemn it. But the Christian priests say it devalues the woman, that it’s a barbaric, dishonorable practice.”
She looked intently into his deep-set eyes. “It’s a plausible tale, is it not? And if you and I know the truth, what does it matter what the people of Londinium think?”
He nodded, but she could see he was still uncomfortable with the idea. She wondered at his unease. Was he embarrassed by the thought that people would believe he had a Saxon lover? Or did the fact she had been a slave distress him? She thought back to Bridei’s playful words. He had implied Rhun desired her. Could she believe Rhun’s brother?
Rhun cleared his throat. He found he was staring at her, something he’d vowed not to do. But it was so hard not to take delight in her pale, glowing beauty. He cleared his throat. “Is there anything else you require for the night?”
“Are you leaving?”
“Nay, I will sleep beside the cart. But I wondered if there wasn’t something else I could do to make you more comfortable.”
She shook her head. “I’ve plenty of blankets and sheepskins to sleep on, and I ate my fill earlier.”
“Well, good night.”
He got his bedroll from his saddle pack and spread it out on the ground. He had not wanted to bother with having Arwistyl pitch his tent, especially since it looked to be a clear, warm night. He settled himself in his bedroll and
looked up at the stars. Soft rustling sounds came from the cart beside him. Was she uncomfortable, despite her assurances she had plenty of blankets? Was that why she seemed to toss and turn?
He thought of her, so close, so very close. It almost seemed he could smell her, some fragrance that clung to her skin from when she had last bathed. But maybe it was only the honeysuckle and clover growing on the hill, casting their sweet scent into the breeze. Whatever it was, it made his heart squeeze in his chest and his loins tighten. He sighed. A fine summer night, with all thoughts of battle and war forgotten. Despite the army camp around them, it seemed as if there were only the two of them—man and woman, dreaming beneath the starlit heavens.
Chapter 4
They set out the next day under a bright blue, cloudless sky. Rhun and Bridei rode side by side at the front of the traveling party with Eastra behind them. Bringing up the rear were five warriors clad in mail shirts. Three of them had dark hair and swarthy skin, while the other two had flame-colored tresses. There was enough of a resemblance between the darker men that Eastra wondered if they were brothers.
Her mount was a beautiful reddish brown mare. She had never ridden such a regal beast, and she found the mare’s gait to be smooth and graceful. As they rode out of the army camp, where everyone was busily preparing to march, Eastra’s spirits soared.
Ahead of her, Rhun and Bridei spoke quietly, obviously discussing the journey ahead of them. After a short while, Rhun fell back to ride beside her. “It’s not too long a journey. By nightfall we should be within sight of the city’s walls.”
“Have you ever been to Londinium before?” Eastra asked.
“Aye, several times. It’s an amazing place. There, Saxons, Britons, and men who still call themselves citizens of Rome all live side by side, engaged in a common cause.”
“Which is?” Eastra prompted.
Rhun grinned. “They are merchants, and that makes them view politics and war differently than the rest of us. They are loyal and devoted to only one thing—pecunia.”
“Pecunia?”
“It’s a Roman word for wealth... gold... cattle... coins.”
“You sound critical of them,” Eastra said. “But it seems to me they are more sensible than other men. Why spend your time killing? Why not live in peace as the merchants do?”
His smile faded. “The merchants need only a small shop in which to ply their trade, but most men need land. Land to raise crops on, as your people do. And for Britons, land to hunt on and to graze our herds and flocks.”
She gestured to the broad green expanse of hills around them. “It seems to me there is plenty of land here. Enough for both your people and mine.”
Rhun raised a brow. “Do you think your uncle is a man inclined to share?”
“Nay,” Eastra answered.
“Well, neither is Arthur, nor are many Britons. In our minds, it’s a simple thing. We were here first, so we have the better claim.”
“Is that why you fight?” she asked. “Because you are greedy for land?”
Rhun looked at her, and his expression changed. “Nay, that’s not why I fight. My people live in the hills, a land too rugged for farmers like the Saxons.”
“Then why do you fight for Arthur?” She knew she should not argue with him and behave so disagreeably, but this was a thing that had troubled her for years. Why should so many people suffer—women, innocent children—all because of men’s stubborn greed?
He didn’t answer her for a time, and she grew worried she had made him angry. Then he spoke in a slow, thoughtful voice. “I first swore allegiance to Arthur because I believed the priests and holy brothers, like Gildas of Llandudno, when they said the Saxons were heathen barbarians and any man devoted to the Christian cause must fight to drive them back into the sea. That was what sent me to Arthur’s camp. But then, in the next few years, I came to know him as a man and a king. I saw he had a vision for Britain no man had ever had before. He wants to unite the whole of the island, to finally end the futile squabbling between tribes and chieftains that has always made us vulnerable to our enemies. It’s a glorious, valiant dream, one that was irresistible to a youthful warrior, the man I was a few years ago.”
“And now?” she asked.
“I’m no longer certain Arthur’s dream is possible. In times of crisis, aye, then the chieftains will rally around and fight side by side. But as soon as the threat has passed, they go back to their petty disputes, recalling old grudges, insults made to their fathers’ fathers.” He grimaced. “My people have a kind of blindness that way. No matter that the Christos teaches us to forgive our enemies, most of my countrymen believe the opposite—that a man’s honor depends on vengeance, and every slight to him or his tribe must be repaid. I think sometimes it is the curse of our race.”
He has pondered these matters a great deal, she thought, observing his intent, serious face.
He met her gaze and smiled. “My father says he worries about me because I think like a priest, rather than a warrior. That I am not ruthless and ferocious enough.”
“Well, I think it is wonderful you’re not ruthless and ferocious,” she said emphatically. “I have lived most of life around men like that, and I do not like them.” She hesitated, then asked, “Is your father like my uncle, then?”
Rhun cocked his head. “My father? When he fights, I know he is as pitiless as any man. But his heart is tender, and he does not really think like a warrior, either. For the love of a woman, he nearly gave up his kingdom—not once, but twice.” He nodded at Eastra’s amazed look. “When his first wife died, he mourned so deeply that he renounced his title and power and went to live in a priory for several years. Then, later, when there was opposition to his relationship with Rhiannon, my stepmother, he told his chieftains he would remain wed to her even if it cost him everything he had fought to regain.”
Eastra was encouraged. If Rhun’s father was a man who would put a woman before his ambitions, then perhaps...”It sounds as if your father and you are much alike,” she said breathlessly.
Rhun gave a laugh and turned around to gesture for Bridei to ride forward and join them. “Bridei, tell her, tell her exactly how well I get along with our father. How much we are alike.”
Bridei cocked a brow sardonically. “Well, they are both very tall, and they have blue eyes, but I would say those are about all the traits the two of them share.”
“Truly?” Eastra asked.
“Truly. You will see when we reach Deganwy. Every moment they are together, they will argue. Of course”—Bridei’s mouth quirked—“they still have more in common than Maelgwn and I. As far as I can tell, the only traits the two of us share are the blue eyes.”
“You don’t get along with your father, either?” she asked.
“Rhun and he might argue all the time, but Maelgwn still believes his firstborn is the most noble and admirable of men. While I...” Bridei shrugged. “He thinks I inherited all the evil traits of his line, which are many.”
“It’s not as if you’ve never given him cause to doubt your honor,” Rhun said.
Bridei shrugged, then met Eastra’s gaze, his vivid blue eyes mocking and self-depreciative. “So, you see, I am the evil spawn, and Rhun the saint. But remember, saints have their drawbacks. Much of the time they are so unholy grim and serious, the rest of us can hardly stand to be around them. Here we are, riding out on this fine, glorious day, and all my brother can do is talk of politics and honor.” He winked. “I can tell you such is not my idea of how to entertain a beautiful princess. If I were him, I would seek to make you laugh and be merry.” He grinned again, then suddenly began to sing. It was a playful tune, about a man courting a maid and all the outrageous, absurd tasks he promised to perform in order to win her love.
Bridei’s voice was rich and deep, and Eastra felt spellbound as she listened. As the vibrant melody echoed across the hills around them, she could almost feel her worries and concerns falling away. When he had finished, she said, “Th
at was wonderful. Are you what your people call a bard?”
“Not a true one,” Bridei answered. “I was never willing to undergo the rigorous training to learn all the sagas and heroic tales an official bard must know. It takes near a score of years for that.” He smiled. “But Arthur sees fit to keep me around anyway. He knows I have the means to gladden his men’s hearts when they are heavy or to compose a satisfying tribute when one of their own is lost. I believe he counts me as useful, in my way, as any of his Companions.”
Eastra glanced at Rhun. He nodded. “My brother has a way with words. Although I think if Arthur had any idea what mischief he sometimes causes, he might not be so pleased to have Bridei in his army train.”
“What mischief?” Bridei asked, his face a mask of innocence. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Rhun rolled his eyes, and Eastra looked from one man to the other. How different these two brothers were, not merely in looks, but in the way they saw things. She could not help being drawn to Bridei’s lighthearted nature. After the harshness of her life, his playful outlook was as appealing as a burst of sunshine among the clouds. But she admired Rhun as well, for his thoughtfulness and kindness.
But there was certainly more than admiration in her feelings for him. Being near him aroused a deep yearning. His tall, well-muscled physique and gold-streaked hair reminded her of her countrymen, and yet he was different, his eyes a deeper, grayer blue, his features finer, his hair darker and slightly wavy. The subtle strangeness of his appearance aroused and attracted her. Never before had she met a man she desired to lie with, to have him touch her and put his mouth on hers. But she felt that way with Rhun. And the longer she was near him, the more intense those feelings became.
Caught up as she was in her thoughts, she didn’t notice the change in the landscape. Then all at once, she saw they had left the rolling hills and moved down into small valley. The grass and vegetation here grew lush and deep, a more brilliant green than she’d ever seen before, and there were strange shaped mounds scattered here and there. A sense of desolation hovered in the air, and when she saw a blackened, half-burned tree with blackbirds on the barren branches, she experienced a strange, uneasy feeling, a vague sense of recognition. Then she caught a glimpse of the waving heads of the grainfield and knew. Her body went rigid and her throat seemed to close up. It was as if a cloud had passed over the sun, and the world was suddenly cold and bleak.
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