Since they’d left Caer Louarn late in the day, they didn’t travel far before it grew dark. When they reached a clearing, Maelgwn called a halt. As his men dismounted and began to make camp, Eastra slid off her horse and waited, wondering if someone would come and tell her where she would sleep. To her surprise, Maelgwn himself came to speak to her. He was accompanied by a gangly red-haired youth whom she presumed was his armor bearer. “This is Beli,” Maelgwn announced. “He will see to your needs and get you settled for the night.”
Maelgwn left, and young Beli faced her, as stiff and alert as a soldier on guard. “My lady, can I bring you something to eat or drink?”
“Do you think there is a stream nearby where I can wash?” she asked.
“I will fetch you water, my lady.”
Beli dashed off. Eastra was bemused. After behaving as a slave these past weeks, it was very agreeable to have someone wait upon her.
Beli returned carrying a earthenware jar and a bronze bowl. A cloth was draped over his arm. “My lady.” He gestured to a nearby tent. “If you would like to go in and refresh yourself, I’ll wait outside.”
He put the washing things down on the leather floor of the tent, then left. Eastra washed her face and hands. Beli returned with a bedroll he arranged in the tent, and an oil lamp that he lit.
“Now I will fetch your supper, my lady,” he said, bowing.
Eastra felt overwhelmed. Beli was treating her like royalty. When he came back with a platter of food, a wineskin, and a stool tucked under his free arm, she smiled at him and said, “Thank you for your kindness, but now please go and feed yourself. You have been busy every moment since we arrived, and I’m certain you’re hungry.”
He bowed again. “Thank you, my lady. I will return quickly, to see if you need anything else before you retire.”
As he bent down to leave the tent, she called out, “Wait!”
He turned. For a moment, his blue eyes regarded her with frank admiration. Then he lowered his gaze. “Yes, my lady. Will there be something else?”
“I was wondering... what have you been told about me?”
“My lady?”
“Maelgwn—what did he say to you when he ordered you to wait on me?”
“My father said you were a Saxon princess and our honored guest.”
“Maelgwn is your father?”
“Aye. I don’t much look like him, do I?”
Eastra searched the young man’s features for any resemblance to Rhun. She could not really see any. His coloring—dark red hair and light blue eyes—was so different, it was hard to see past it.
“I favor my mother.” He shrugged. “Not such a bad thing, mind you, but I do hope that someday I am tall like my father.”
“How old are you?”
“Fourteen.”
“Then there’s plenty of time for you to grow. My brother was near your height at your age and I’m certain he would have been fairly good-sized.”
“Would have been?”
“He was killed in a British raid.”
“I’m sorry.” He gave her a sympathetic look, then said apologetically, “My family—except for Rhun—have never supported the British cause. We are Cymry, not British.”
“I don’t hold anyone to blame for what happened to my family. My father and uncle raided their share of British farmsteads in their day. I hate all war, all fighting. I want there to be peace.”
He smiled at her. “You sound like my mother. Yet even she is reconciled to the fact that it is the way of men, to fight and kill each other.”
She decided that when Beli smiled, he did look a little like Rhun. A pang went through her. Where was Rhun? Was he safe? The urge to see him and assure herself that nothing terrible had happened to him nearly overwhelmed her. She scrutinized the young man. How much did Beli care for his half brother? If she told him Rhun might be in danger, would he be willing to help her go to him? She said, “Rhun told me your mother, Rhiannon, has the Sight—do you believe this?”
He nodded. “Sometimes she ‘sees’ things or has dreams about things and then they come to pass.”
Eastra nodded. “I had a Seeing that involved your brother Rhun. I sensed he was in terrible danger. Because of that, I want to go to him, to warn him. Will you aid me?”
Beli frowned. “You should tell my father these things, not me.”
Eastra made her voice pleading. “Bridei says Maelgwn will not allow me to go to Rhun.”
“Why not?”
“Because...” Eastra hesitated. What could she say to this young man to convince him he should help her? She moved nearer to Beli. “Because I am Arthur’s hostage, and your father means to keep me a prisoner at his fortress.”
Beli’s troubled expression deepened. “A prisoner?”
Eastra nodded. “Although your father told you to treat me with every courtesy, if you look around, you will see I am guarded every moment.”
Beli glanced toward the tent entrance, then back to her. “Perhaps it is true, but even so, I can’t ignore my father’s wishes.”
“Even if your brother’s life hangs in the balance?”
Beli shook his head sadly. “Nay, not even for that. Rhun chose his path years ago. He’s a grown man and a formidable warrior. Besides, if what you saw was a true Seeing, it’s doubtful you can do anything to change what will come to pass.”
“But if he knew about the danger, perhaps he could somehow turn it aside.”
“Perhaps.” Beli nodded. “But it doesn’t have to be you who tells him of your dream. My father could send a messenger to Rhun and warn him that way.”
Eastra exhaled in frustration. Beli’s solution was no better than Bridei’s. “But the thing is...” She hesitated. How could she make this young man understand? “The thing is, I love Rhun. I need to see him and talk to him myself. Until I do, I will be in torment!”
Beli looked at her, and a half dozen emotions crossed his youthful face—regret, sympathy, and a kind of tenderness. But there was also resolve and duty there. He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I can’t defy my father over a matter such as this. As my mother always says, if it’s meant to be, then it will be.”
Eastra turned away, feeling very tired and disappointed.
Beli left, and she sat down on the stool. She closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind and let her thoughts wander so she would have a seeing. But she couldn’t seem to relax. All she could think about was her vision of Rhun. She struggled for a while longer, then opened her eyes and sighed. It did not appear she had learned any of Morguese’s magic after all. Maybe the burning herbs with their fragrant odor had something to do with being able to see the future. Giving up, she went to bed.
In the morning, they set off soon after breaking their fast. The forest gradually thinned into open country. The hilly, rocky landscape was dotted with small patches of scrubby pine, yew, and rowan trees. Goshawks and kestrels circled overhead, and the air felt damp and clammy despite the fact it was summer. In the distance, Eastra could see the mountains Rhun had told her about, their brooding dark shapes like thunderclouds on the horizon.
They rode through deep valleys where the pastureland was brilliant green and bright with daisies, purple clover, and other flowers Eastra didn’t recognize. They climbed rocky desolate hills and crossed a myriad of streams, some with waterfalls tumbling over the rocks to form small pools surrounded by green moss. Finally, they came into a broad valley where beautiful horses grazed beside a gleaming river. Then they followed a trackway along the river, passing several farmsteads, where hedges of thorn enclosed several round, thatched-roof structures.
Beli came to her with some food about midday, and asked her what she thought of Gwynedd. “It’s beautiful,” she said. But a part of her remained uneasy. This place seemed cut off from the rest of the world, a strange, somehow daunting realm full of rocks and sky and mist. It was so unlike the part of Britain she’d grown up in, and she suspected this brooding, wild landscape must shape the
people who lived here. Was that why Rhun was so different from any warrior she’d ever known? For the first time, she began to wonder if she really knew the man she had fallen in love with.
But it didn’t matter. Her fate was inextricably bound up with Rhun’s. She’d felt it that day when they made love under the great oak. It had been more than a joining of their bodies; it seemed like a merging of their very souls.
Late in the day, Eastra called out Beli, who was riding beside her. “We’re near the sea, aren’t we?”
Beli nodded. “My father’s main fortress, Deganwy, is along the coast. We’ll be there soon.”
Leaving the river, they climbed a ridge. When they reached the top, a sprawling hilltop fortress was visible in the distance. Sensing home, the horses seemed to quicken their pace.
Dusk was falling as they reached the gates of Deganwy. There was the familiar confusion as everyone dismounted and servants came to lead away the horses and deal with the baggage. Eastra saw Beli talking to a small, plump woman with reddish fair hair going gray. Although she did not look as Eastra had expected, she decided the woman must be Rhiannon, Maelgwn’s queen. The woman gave Eastra a critical look, then spoke to Beli.
Beli came over to her. “Come, my lady. I’ll show you where you will sleep.”
He took her to a small sleeping chamber, comfortably but not extravagantly furnished. “A servant will be here soon to tend you,” he told her. “Gwenaseth thought you might want to eat in your room and wait until tomorrow to meet everyone.”
“Gwenaseth?”
“She’s the woman I was speaking to. She runs Deganwy.” Beli grinned. “I’m not exaggerating. Even my father defers to her.”
“But what about...”
“My mother? She doesn’t generally involve herself in the day-to-day activities of the fortress. The twins are still young, and she has her sewing and her pottery. Gwenaseth thrives on being in charge, so it’s a happy arrangement for everyone.”
Beli left. A young woman with curly dark hair and blue eyes came and helped Eastra undress and bathe. Her bag of possessions had been brought to the room. Thinking she would not see anyone this night, Eastra put on only a linen shift. Then she sat on a stool while the servant, Melangel, combed out her damp hair. They were almost finished smoothing out the tangles when there was a knock at the door. Eastra stood up quickly, suddenly aware of her immodest attire.
But it was not Beli bringing her food, but a small, delicately made woman. Between Melangel’s deference and the woman’s red hair, Eastra guessed this must be the lady Rhiannon, Rhun’s stepmother. She smiled warmly at Eastra and held out a basket. “I’ve brought you some fresh bread and apricots for your supper. Also a jar of milk. I’ve heard the Saxons enjoy drinking it even after they’re grown. And it seems like a healthier beverage than wine or ale.”
“Thank you,” Eastra said. “I do like milk, and I have not had any for months.” She took the basket, thinking Lady Rhiannon was not at all what she had expected. Despite her vivid hair—threaded here and there with strands of pure white—this queen had none of Morguese’s fiery sensuality. She was cool and still, her beauty ethereal. With her milk-white skin, heather blue eyes, and dainty, almost childlike features, she seemed like some sort of lovely vision conjured out of the mists that drifted over the hillsides of Gwynedd.
Rhiannon’s smile deepened as Eastra looked at her. “Were you expecting someone different? Someone more impressive, perhaps?”
“Of course not,” Eastra answered quickly. “You’re every bit as beautiful as both Rhun and Bridei said you were.”
“That is kind of you to say, but after bearing six children, I’m certain I’ve lost some of my allure. Yet that’s a small price to pay for the joys of motherhood.”
Eastra couldn’t help glancing at Rhiannon’s slender form. It was amazing to think this tiny woman had safely given birth so many times.
Rhiannon observed the direction of her gaze. “Despite what people think, broad hips do not always mean a safe delivery,” she said. “Other factors are more important—whether a woman’s womb opens easily, that the babes are positioned properly, and the afterbirth is expelled completely. The ability to give birth safely is often inherited,” Rhiannon continued. “Tell me, Eastra, did your mother or your aunts have difficulties in childbed?”
“Nay, not that I know of.”
“Good.” Rhiannon nodded as if satisfied.
Eastra thought that this was a very odd thing for them to be discussing. Unless Rhiannon could see the future and knew one day Eastra would be Rhun’s wife and hence, kin of sorts to Rhiannon. The idea thrilled Eastra. But she could obviously not ask such a thing. Instead, she said, “I’ve heard you can see the future. Is that true?”
Rhiannon smiled. “Sometimes I see things and then they come to pass. But that doesn’t mean I know what’s going to happen before it does. I get tiny glimpses only, and even then I don’t always know what they mean, how the pattern fits together.”
Eastra nodded. “I had a kind of Seeing myself. It felt like a dream, but I was awake. I saw your stepson, Rhun, and he seemed terribly distressed, as if he had seen something horrifying. I worry that he is in danger.” She raised her gaze to Rhiannon’s. “Do you think it might be a true seeing? Do you sense he’s in danger?”
Rhiannon didn’t answer at first. Then she said, “There are many kinds of danger.” There was something hesitant and wary in her expression, and Eastra experienced a twinge of alarm. Rhiannon turned to leave. Eastra wanted to stop her, to insist she elaborate on her words. But while she was struggling how to phrase her request, Rhiannon murmured “good night” and slipped out the door.
Eastra gazed after her in consternation. Then she shook off the mood and went to fetch the basket of food. She was very hungry.
* * *
The night was warm and brightly lit by moonlight. Rhun stood in a clearing just outside the stout timber walls of Camlann. He was bare to the waist and panting heavily. A faint breeze riffled his hair and cooled the sweat on his torso. Taking a deep breath, he raised the heavy broadsword in salute to his imaginary opponent, then thrust it forward. In his mind, his opponent met his blow. He twisted, pulling away, then drew back the weapon once again. It sang through the air, the thin tempered blade hissing as it barely missed the phantom warrior. Rhun whirled and brought the sword down in a slashing movement.
He pulled back again, breathing heavily. Wiping a sweaty hand on his trews, he prepared to continue the battle. His arms and shoulders ached and perspiration beaded on his face and body, but he had no intention of stopping until he was so weary he could scarce walk back to the fortress.
Once again, the sword hummed through the air, alive, invincible. Rhun felt the trance come over him. No thought, only instinct. His body moving of its own accord. His mind blank. Blessed oblivion. A kind of release.
“Still play this foolish game, do you?” The voice came out of the darkness behind him. In Rhun’s mind, no words registered, only sound. He whirled and, still in his battle daze, prepared to kill his opponent. He drew back the sword, then went limp with sudden awareness. “Bridei, you fool! Don’t you know better than to surprise me like that?”
“Were you going to kill me?” Bridei stepped into the moonlight, his smile lazy.
Rhun let out his breath and shook his head. “Lucky for you, I usually look before I strike. But, damn you, that was close!”
Bridei motioned to the broadsword in Rhun’s hand. “I didn’t know you still played at battle games. I thought you’d outgrown such things. Or is it that you don’t get enough fighting these days and it makes you restless?”
“It’s not the lack of fighting that makes me restless, and you know it. Now, tell me, what are you doing here? What’s happened? Did you get away from Urien? And what about Eastra? Where is she?”
“One question at a time. First of all, Eastra is safe and well cared for. By now, she’s at Deganwy, being fussed over by Gwenaseth and Rhiannon.
”
“But how? Did Urien finally agree to let you leave?”
“Having received word that we were being held by Urien, our dear father decided to rescue us.” Bridei’s voice was harsh with sarcasm. “He showed up outside Caer Louarn with a large troop of warriors. Urien’s no fool. He doesn’t want war with the Dragon. So he acted as if we were free to leave all the while.”
“And Maelgwn took Eastra back to Deganwy?”
Bridei nodded. “And assigned Beli to wait upon her as if she were royalty. Which she is, of course.”
“And you. Why didn’t you go to Deganwy with them?”
“You mean, why didn’t I go to my childhood home, to be welcomed into the bosom of my loving family?” He gave a snort of disgust. “I mislike heartfelt, tearful reunions. Besides, Eastra wanted me to find you.”
“So you could let me know that she is well?”
“Nay, so I could warn you.”
Rhun frowned. “Warn me about what?”
“Well, apparently your little Saxon princess has been dabbling in the magical arts. She claims to have had a Seeing, a premonition of what the future holds for you.”
Rhun suddenly felt cold. He’d feared Morguese’s influence on the innocent Eastra. It appeared he’d been right to worry. His jaw tightened in fury. “What has Morguese been up to?” he demanded. “What sort of unchancy business has she involved Eastra in?”
Bridei shrugged. “Eastra claims she had a Seeing or a dream or something where she saw you, and you appeared to be in great turmoil and distress. She wasn’t more specific than that. I told her you were a big boy and could take care of yourself, but that didn’t satisfy her. I think if she could get away, she would come running to your aid herself.”
“Jesu, that would be madness! She must be protected and guarded at all times. For her to come here now, when tensions are so high...” Rhun shook his head. There were constant rumors at Camlann about Cerdic gathering his war host in the east and having secret meetings with the Picts in the north. Arthur’s men’s resentment and mistrust of Cerdic might well affect how they treated Eastra. “Arthur even refused to let me go back for her. He said as long as I was certain Urien wouldn’t harm her, it served no purpose for me to leave Camlann when we might be marching to war any day. I think even he believes the truce is doomed.”
The Dragon Prince Page 22