The Dragon Prince

by Mary Gillgannon

  “Ah, so that is why you’re out here, wearing yourself down in mock combat with an invisible enemy. You feel guilty about Eastra, so you take it out on yourself.”

  Rhun sighed. “It’s complicated. I want to go to Eastra more than anything. But I know it serves no purpose. As long as she’s safe, it’s better we’re apart.”

  “Why? Are you afraid if you saw her, all your noble resolve would crumble away? Do you worry you care enough for her that you might betray your sworn oath, your duty, in order to be with her?”

  There was a mocking amusement in Bridei’s tone that infuriated Rhun. His hand tightened reflexively on his sword hilt. But then he took a deep breath. There was no point being angry at his brother for stating the truth. That was exactly what he feared. It was as if a battle was going on inside him—a battle between his feelings for Eastra and the very essence of his responsibilities as a soldier. “I never thought I could feel this way about a woman.”

  “Well, it was bound to happen,” Bridei said cynically. “The same idealistic nature that drove you to join Arthur’s cause at sixteen has now turned you into a lovesick wretch. In contrast, I know how to keep my wits about me, to look out for myself. I’m not going to commit myself to any man’s cause, nor fall in love with any woman.”

  “I think your attitude makes for a lonely, empty existence,” Rhun said.

  “Oh, really? Then why is it I’m going into the fortress to find a warm, willing woman to cuddle up with for the night, while you are out here trying to exhaust yourself enough so you can go back to your lonely bed and eventually get a few fitful hours of sleep?”

  A few fitful hours of sleep. Glumly, Rhun realized that he would be lucky to enjoy even that much rest. Every time he lay down and closed his eyes, he was tormented by memories of making love to Eastra, of running his fingers through the silk of her hair and tasting the warm, fragrant softness of her skin. Hours later, he would still be tossing and turning, the bedclothes wrapped around him, chilly with his own sweat, his insides aching with a sense of loss that gnawed at him until he felt like he was being eaten alive.

  And now, hearing about Eastra, his yearning for her was even more intense. She’d dreamed of him. Feared for him. How could he not go to her and reassure her?

  He set his jaw, realizing he could not deny his feelings any longer. Somehow he must convince Arthur to let him go to Deganwy. But how? He dared not reveal how he felt about Eastra. It might make Arthur question his loyalty. But there must be some excuse, some explanation he could give.

  Bridei had already started off toward the fortress. Rhun called him back. “I need your help,” he said to his brother.

  * * *

  The windows in Arthur’s council room had been unshuttered and a cool breeze blew through the chamber, making the lamplight waver. Arthur sat in his big carved chair. Next to him hunched his scribe, Flavius, squinting over a parchment. Arthur looked up and smiled as Rhun entered. The sick feeling in Rhun’s stomach grew more intense. Never before had he lied to his commander. “Sire,” he began. “I would like to ask a favor. My brother, Bridei, has just returned from Gwynedd.”

  Arthur nodded. “Aye, he made his report to me a while ago. I was pleased to learn our hostage was safe at your father’s fortress. Although Maelgwn and I have not always seen eye-to-eye on things these past years, I trust him in this matter. I believe he will guard Princess Eastra most diligently.” Arthur’s hawk-like gaze pierced Rhun. “Now, what is your favor?”

  “My stepmother, Maelgwn’s wife, has been ill since this spring. I would like to go and see her. I thought I would have a chance to visit her when we took Princess Eastra there, but Urien altered my plans.”

  “Maelgwn’s wife is ill? I didn’t know this.”

  Rhun’s stomach lurched. What if Arthur had spies at Deganwy? “It may not be a serious illness,” he said quickly. “But she is such a delicate woman, it worries me to learn of her ailing. Besides, as you said yourself, if the truce is broken, there will be a battle for Britain to end all battles. I would like to see the woman who has been like a mother to me one more time.”

  He could see Arthur weighing the matter in his mind. He’d asked few favors of his commander in over ten years of service. And Arthur, who had never known his birth father or mother and had lost his foster parents early on, honored the bond between parent and child more than most men. “Deganwy is what—two days’ ride from here?” Arthur asked.

  “Aye, and while I’m in the north, I could send out the word to the chieftains there, to give them one last chance to join our cause.”

  Arthur snorted. “If they haven’t joined me yet, they will not do so for this next battle. I think they’re all hoping I’ll be killed and Britain will go back to what it was, a disordered rabble of petty chieftains, squabbling endlessly with their neighbors. They are too stupid to see the Saxon threat will change their lives forever, and my desire to lead them has nothing to do with seizing power and everything to do with trying to make certain there is a Britain left for anyone to govern.”

  As always, Arthur’s impassioned words evoked an intense response in Rhun. They did have right and goodness on their side. Unlike so many men, Arthur fought not for his own personal glory, but for a dream—a dream that would mean a prosperous and safe existence for their children and their children’s children.

  Arthur put up his hand. “Go. I won’t deny you this, not when all of us could be dead in a fortnight. Visit your stepmother and if you can, try one last time to convince your father it is time to fight for Britain. I know he doesn’t begrudge me the high kingship, that he sincerely believes it’s foolish to make war with the Saxons. But urge him to consider the matter one more time, to think long and hard on whether he wishes to have his grandchildren grow up speaking coarse Saxon or the wild music of the Cymru tongue.”

  “I will speak to him,” Rhun said. It was the least he could do, he thought as he left the council room, now that he had betrayed his ideals, and all for the sake of a Saxon.

  Bridei met him at the soldiers’ barracks. “What did he say?”

  “He let me go. I think he believes I might be able to persuade our father to join his cause.”

  “And the lie about Rhiannon?”

  Rhun grimaced. “I used it, though the words burnt like bile in my mouth.”

  Bridei shrugged. “The lie hurts no one. The course of history will not be changed because you sought out your ladylove.”

  Rhun regarded his brother dubiously. Something inside him told him that with this lie, the pattern of his life—and perhaps the lives of everyone around him—had been irrevocably altered.

  Chapter 14

  “Have you ever seen the ocean before?” Rhiannon asked as she and Eastra walked down the sloping trackway from the stronghold.

  “Aye, when I was a child. I remember how it smelled. I also remember my brother warning me not to venture into the fens, the marshlands bordering the beach. He said there were places there where the spirits of the dead lived, and they would grab my legs and pull me down into the muck and I would never be seen again.” Eastra gave a rueful laugh. “I believed him, and so the whole time, even when we were on the open beach, I kept my eyes on the ground, worrying I would be swallowed up at any moment.”

  “It was cruel of him to tease you,” Rhiannon said.

  “Not really cruel. There are very dangerous spots in the fens, places where even a man can get caught and not be able to free himself but slowly sink to his death. My brother was trying to protect me.” A wave of sadness afflicted her. She’d never had a chance to see her brother grow up, to find out what sort of man he would have been.

  “You miss him, don’t you?”

  Eastra nodded. “Silly, isn’t it? He’s been dead over ten years now, but still I think of him.”

  “You love him, and love does not end with death.” Rhiannon reached out and touched her arm. “ I think when we love someone a great deal, even after they die, their spirit stays with
us. I think your brother is with you now, watching over you.”

  A strange sensation came over Eastra. There were times when she had felt that way, as if Cynebeold had spoken to her. She stopped and looked at Rhiannon. “What makes you say something like that? Do you feel him? Do you believe he is with me?”

  Rhiannon only smiled.

  Eastra began walking again. Even though Rhiannon’s words were comforting, the way she talked reminded Eastra a little of Morguese. She recalled how Morguese had coaxed her into being part of her rituals, had taught her to “see” things. But in the end, Morguese had betrayed her.

  She glanced at Rhiannon. In the three days she had been at Deganwy, the queen had been very solicitous and kind. Like Morguese, Rhiannon was reputed to be a powerful sorceress. Morguese had used her, made her part of some twisted scheme to thwart her husband. What did this woman want? Did she also mean to ensnare Eastra in her web of magic, to use her as Morguese had? All at once, Eastra halted. “Why are you taking me to see the ocean? I’m a hostage and a Saxon. What is your purpose in being friendly to me?”

  “Purpose?” Rhiannon’s face was expressionless. “Do you think I need a purpose to be kind to another woman, especially one who is young and troubled, who has had a life of hardship and loss?” She shook her head sadly. “You do not have to trust me. I would not expect you to. But, please, give me a chance to help you. I was once very like you. I’d been abused and hurt. I didn’t know where to turn, how to find my way in life. Another woman helped me, enabled me to see things more clearly. That is the only purpose I have.”

  Eastra was still not satisfied. “I beg your pardon for seeming suspicious and ungrateful, but you see, Lady Morguese said much the same thing to me and I later discovered her words were false. She didn’t care about me, but only thought to manipulate me in a way that furthered her goals.”

  “Morguese.” Rhiannon smiled. “In a way, I admire her. She’s so fearless, so strong. But she is also misguided. She thinks the power of the Goddess can defeat the male force, that she can meddle in the realm of men and make things ‘better,’ as she sees it.”

  “You don’t believe that?”

  Rhiannon shook her head. “The female realm is separate from the world of men. I fear Morguese’s clever schemes will turn on her and she will suffer greatly.”

  “But her power is real. I’ve seen it. Felt it.”

  “Aye, it is real. But it’s not meant to be used as she is using it.”

  “Why not? Why shouldn’t a woman try to control things and change the course of events? I think we would make less of a mess of it than men have made!” Eastra felt herself becoming angry. She could not help resenting the stupidity of men, their passion for war and power.

  “But once you involve yourself in the world of men, you are subject to the rules of that world,” Rhiannon said. “And those rules are against all the Goddess stands for. She represents patience and timelessness, harmony and balance. Men’s goals are always petty and small compared to the vast, eternal earth. She is beyond them. She represents the things that last.” She motioned. “Come. Let us go down to the sea and I will show you what I mean.”

  They followed the pathway along the river to where it turned into a great, wide estuary teeming with birds. Everywhere Eastra looked there were waterfowl—waders and dippers, herons, swans, fulmars, and gulls. They covered the shoreline like huge pale flowers, then, when startled, rose to the air in soaring clouds. The smell of the mudflats was strong, of rotting things washed up from the sea. Eastra wrinkled her nose, and Rhiannon said, “It’s the smell of death, but also of life. There is much to eat here. The tidal pools teem with fish and shellfish. Many birds raise their young in nests on the cliffs and in the sea holly and marsh grass among the dunes.”

  They walked along the shoreline, veering east until they reached a broad, sandy beach. Rhiannon bent down and took off her sandals. Eastra did the same.

  The sand was wet and cold beneath her feet as they walked down to the waves. When they had almost reached the water, Rhiannon spoke. “The surf rolls in, over and over, endlessly. The tide comes in and goes out. It’s like the heartbeat of the earth, an eternal rhythm. The ocean and the rivers and streams flow through the Mother’s body, like the blood through our veins. The water feeds her flesh as the blood does ours. And yet the sea is also like her womb, pouring out life onto the land. Did you know that everything comes from the sea? That even we once dwelt there? We were much different then, not human yet. But we have memories of it. And that is echoed in the long months when we swim inside our mothers’ wombs.”

  She turned to Eastra and spread her arms wide. “Do you see the pattern, how it’s all connected? This is the female realm. Compared to it, the shallow concerns of men are no more significant than a small pool left when the tide recedes. It will soon evaporate and leave nothing behind but a stinking puddle of dying creatures that will either be eaten or dry up and blow away on the wind. But the sea—it will endure, as the Goddess and her power will endure. Men may fight and kill, seeking power, seeking land. But their quest is futile. They can never possess what they long for. The magic, the pattern, eludes them because they never look beyond their own realm.”

  Eastra sighed. “The world of men might appear insignificant to you, but it has caused me much pain. Men killed my family and enslaved me. Their greed and ambition near ruined my life.” The world of men also threatened everything she shared with Rhun, but she did not say this.

  Rhiannon nodded. “I, too, have suffered because of the blind cruelty of men. When I was very young, one of them hurt me very badly. But the Goddess healed me. She opened my eyes. And even though I am wed to a warrior, a man whose very existence is caught up in the male realm, I try to never to lose sight of the true pattern beneath.”

  “How do you do that?” Eastra asked. “With all your knowledge and power, how do you endure being wed to a king? Your husband’s very title bespeaks a world of ambition, war, and power.”

  Rhiannon smiled. “My husband is older, and I like to think he has learned some wisdom over the years. Yet we don’t always agree. He still thinks like a man, for all the Goddess has taught him. It’s a dilemma, but I take comfort in the fact he is what he is meant to be. The Goddess does not wish to deny male energy. It’s part of the magic of life. All females in season need the male to plant the seed that will grow inside them. And for our kind, males are also protectors, hunters who bring us food, warriors who defend us from other warriors.”

  “But if they didn’t always fight each other, we would not need protection,” Eastra said in frustration.

  “But it is the way of males to fight, to compete against each other. Stag fights stag during the rut. Dog foxes, birds, even the soft, timid hare fights for the chance to mate with a female. That’s how the Goddess ensures only the strongest and healthiest have offspring. And all life is a battle to survive. That is also part of the pattern.”

  Eastra could not help sighing. Rhiannon’s words made sense, but did nothing to ease the turmoil inside her. She feared Rhun had chosen the male realm—his responsibilities as a warrior—over her and the deep, dark magic that had connected them when their bodies were joined.

  “I’m sorry to see you so distressed” Rhiannon said softly. “I would ease your suffering, if I could. The first step is to try to let go of your anger. You cannot change the past, so you must accept it. If you don’t, it will fester inside you and poison the rest of your life. You cannot want that, especially now you are carrying a new life inside you.”

  A new life inside you. It took a moment for Rhiannon’s words to sink in. “What?” Eastra gasped. “What did you say?”

  Rhiannon smiled. “I wasn’t sure I should speak of it, but I think the knowledge you are carrying a child might help you. It’s a great gift, the greatest magic of all.”

  Eastra felt stunned. A child? Rhun’s child? What did this mean for them? Would a child bind him to her? “I... I didn’t know,” she said wo
odenly. “I mean, I had not thought about it. I’ve lost track of time these past weeks. I don’t even remember the last time I bled.” She looked at Rhiannon. “How can you be certain I’m with child when I myself have no knowledge of it?”

  Rhiannon appeared thoughtful. “Perhaps I should not tell you this, given that you seem so angry at Morguese, but...” She shook her head. “There is no other way to say it. I had a Seeing... before you even came to Deganwy.”

  “What did you see?” Eastra demanded.

  “I saw you with your belly swollen. I don’t yet know if the babe is a boy or girl. But it will be born next spring, sometime after the Seed Moon.”

  She wanted to ask Rhiannon if she knew the child was Rhun’s, but she could not quite get the words out. What if Rhun didn’t want the child? What if he thought she had tricked him into coupling with her so she would conceive? She remembered one of her uncle’s house carls speaking contemptuously of women who deliberately got pregnant in order to entrap a man.

  Then she thought of something else. Why had Rhiannon mentioned Morguese? What did the Rheged queen have to do with her pregnancy? A prickling sense built along her spine and suddenly she knew why Morguese had sent her to Rhun that night. “Did Morguese... did she...” She felt vaguely sick. She’d known Morguese had used her, but she had not guessed this.

  Rhiannon nodded. “I believe she used some sort of spell, a kind of enchantment. But don’t be alarmed. It was meant to be. Perhaps Morguese helped things along, but her motives weren’t cruel nor selfish. I think she believed it was important that the child be conceived at that time, on that particular night.”