He opened his eyes, marveling again how beautiful she was, his queen of light. Her mere existence gave his life meaning, filled him with hope, made him dream dreams. For so long now, there had been a shadow over his heart, a sense things were not as they should be. But with her, all felt right and good and true.
He brushed a strand of hair away from her face, marveling that flesh could be fashioned into a form so exquisite. He adored her mouth, her nose, the curve of her cheek, the way the lashes of her closed eyes made perfect dark crescents. He ran his fingers through her hair, so fine and soft and as pale as the sun glowing through the mist. She opened her eyes—a fine, light blue like the fairest of summer skies—and smiled at him.
“This is a beautiful place,” she said. “Since I’ve come to your land, I haven’t been easy here. Everything seems so sad and wild, all dark stones, somber hills and gloomy skies. But in this place, I feel a kind of peacefulness. If the land is a goddess, then the goddess of your people is very fierce and demanding. But here I can sense her warm, tender heart.”
Rhun laughed. “Aye, I can see that. Perhaps that’s why I used to come here when I was young, to puzzle things out and fashion my dreams of the future.”
“And what did you dream about when you were a boy?”
He turned away, feeling the outside world pressing against their circle of happiness. “I wanted to be a great warrior, like my father. I wanted to do great things.”
“And you have,” she whispered.
He shook his head. She wanted to comfort him as a mother comforts her small son, speaking soothing words and stroking his forehead to make him sleep, to forget the trials and disappointments of the day. But he was a man, and he knew her words for what they were. Tenderness. Love. But not the truth.
“I accomplished so little. Held back the tide for only so many years. And at what a cost? Not merely the men I’ve killed, but the Companions who’ve fallen beside me. It’s because of them I keep fighting. I don’t want their deaths to be in vain.”
He sighed and Eastra’s heart twisted in her chest. If only there were something she could do to help him, to make him feel better about his life. She thought about the babe. If he knew he had sired a child to live after him, would that comfort him? Or make him more despairing?
But again, she hesitated to tell him. She wanted him to love her again, to arouse that mindless heated passion, conjure the heaving, untrammeled ecstasy that would cling to them and leave them both with shining, pure memories of what they had known together. She reached up and pulled his face down to hers, kissing him with slow tenderness that soon turned to gasping, urgent need. And then they were lost again. tumbling wildly in a fierce current of passion, frantic and helpless, as the flood carried them out to the wide endless sea.
“I suppose we must go back,” Rhun said later. “Rhiannon and the children will have returned from berrying by now. They’ll worry if they don’t find you at the fortress.”
Eastra said, “I think Rhiannon knows I’m with you.”
Rhun looked at her and nodded. “She probably does. When I was younger, she often unnerved me by knowing exactly what I was thinking, or where I had been. Which is why I probably should ride back with you.”
“What? You were thinking of running off like Bridei did, without even stopping to see your family?”
“Aye. And for the same reason. That they might mourn me less if I am but a distant memory to them. But if Rhiannon knows I’m here, it’s only right that I go to the fortress and let them fuss over me.” He grimaced.
“Don’t you want to see them?”
“Of course I do. But it will not make it any easier to leave when I have to.”
“How long?” She whispered the words, dreading to hear his answer. “How long can you stay?”
“A day or two at most. It took longer to get here than I had hoped. I was delayed a whole night in the mountains when a mist came up and trapped us there.”
They reclined on the blanket for a while longer, not speaking. Both of them dreaded leaving the glen. It was a refuge, a timeless, magical place where neither the future nor the past mattered. But finally, with another sigh, he rose and began to dress. She did the same, taking time to wash herself in the freezing water, then donning her shift and gunna and sandals.
They walked back to Rhun’s horse. Cadal was trying to graze on the hawthorn bush he was tied to. “Don’t worry,” Rhun reassured the beast. “When we get to Deganwy, you shall have a mound of fresh sweet hay to eat.”
They walked back to the fortress, Rhun leading the horse. On the way there, they talked about inconsequential things. Eastra told him about the children, how they had grown, what pretty young women his sisters were, and that so far Maelgwn had refused to entertain any offers for them.
“He’s going to have to let them go sometime,” Rhun said as they neared the gate. “He can’t keep them locked away at Deganwy forever.”
“He says he wants them to marry for love, to be able to choose the man they will marry. But whenever any young warriors come to visit, he has his bards make up songs ridiculing them. Humiliated, the young men flee Deganwy and your sisters remain unwed.”
“Poor Papa,” Rhun laughed. “Most men can scarcely wait until their daughters reach marriageable age and they can bargain them off to seal alliances. He’s just the opposite. I don’t think he will ever think any man is good enough for either Elen or Anwyl.”
“No, your poor sisters, you mean. Are they to die unwed and childless because he cannot bear to part with them?”
“I will speak with my father,” Rhun said. “Maybe I can convince him to give them more freedom. Why, they must be near sixteen and seventeen years old by now. Jesu, where has the time gone? I remember when they were just little mites and I would carry them on my back and feel like the great, strong older brother.”
They reached the gates of the fortress and were instantly surrounded by well-wishers. Even the guards came down from the watchtower to greet Rhun. Other warriors, their women, servants and craftsmen and children and dogs, all crowded into the yard to welcome him.
“I swear.” Gwenaseth was both laughing and crying as she embraced him. “Rhiannon said we were to have visitors, but I never thought it would be you. It’s been so long, Rhun. I’ve missed scolding you and trying to keep you out of trouble. Missed it sorely.”
“And I’ve missed you and your sharp tongue,” Rhun answered as he hugged the tiny woman.
And then the crowd parted to let Maelgwn through. He nodded solemnly to his son, then grabbed him for a crushing bear hug. Eastra saw the two men were nearly of a size, although Rhun was leaner and not so massive as his sire.
Maelgwn drew back and said, “Where’s Bridei? I thought he would come with you.”
Rhun looked uncomfortable. As Rhiannon came and hugged him, his discomfort became even more obvious. Eastra could tell he dreaded telling them Bridei would not be arriving. “Bridei felt Arthur might need him,” Rhun said. “Cerdic is hosting on the eastern shores. The order to march could come at any time.”
Maelgwn swore at this, and Eastra thought even Rhiannon looked distressed. Her own stomach clenched with dread. Despite what she had shared with Rhun, nothing could change the fact he was leaving her again and might never come back.
“We need to talk about the war with the Saxons,” Rhun said.
Maelgwn nodded. Rhiannon took Eastra’s arm. “Come with me. I’ll help you dress for the evening meal.”
Eastra followed Rhiannon to the bedchamber she shared with Maelgwn. “I’ve been wanting to give you something,” Rhiannon said as they entered. The spacious bedchamber was simply furnished and dominated by a huge bed. Unlike Morguese and her piles of clutter, Rhiannon kept few trinkets or decorative objects. The room bore the mark of a man more than a woman, with heavy wooden chests for storage arranged around the room and weaponry hanging from the walls. Eastra thought it interesting that Morguese appeared to shun the symbols of male power, whi
le Rhiannon was perfectly comfortable with them.
Rhiannon went to one of the chests and after digging through it for a time, pulled out a wooden box. She sat on a stool to open it, then searched through the mass of glittering jewelry inside until she found what she was looking for. Raising her gaze to Eastra, she held out a necklace. “Sapphires from the far east,” she said. “They’re perfect for you. They match your eyes.”
Eastra started to shake her head, but Rhiannon spoke firmly. “I want you to have them, and the earbobs to match. They’ve been gathering dust in here for who knows how many years. This is the treasure hoard of Cunedag, Maelgwn’s great-grandsire. Likely no woman has ever worn these pieces since he plundered them from some unfortunate merchant ship.”
Eastra reached out for the necklace. It was fashioned of gold squares set with stones as blue and clear as the quiet pool they had bathed in that afternoon.
“Wear it with the blue gown I made for you,” Rhiannon said. “Tonight you will look like a princess of your people.”
“You’re too generous,” Eastra said still feeling stunned. The gold in the necklace alone made it as valuable as anything she’d ever possessed. “You should save this for one of your daughters. They both have blue eyes.”
Rhiannon shook her head. “It doesn’t suit them. And I have plenty of other finery to give them when the time comes for them to leave here and marry.”
“Do you think Maelgwn will ever allow that to happen?” Eastra asked, remembering her earlier conversation with Rhun.
“He will have no choice. It’s the way of life. The female in season chooses her mate and goes off with him to create the next generation.” She stood and approached Eastra. “Let me fasten the clasp for you.” Rhiannon helped Eastra put on the necklace, then stepped back. There was something so satisfied and yet enigmatic in her expression, Eastra could not help asking, “What is it? What do you see?”
“I see you. You will be a queen, Eastra. A powerful queen.”
“No.” She shook her head. “That’s not what I want. I don’t want power or wealth. I only want there to be peace, for this babe I carry to not have to grow up afraid.”
“Did you tell Rhun about the babe?”
Eastra shook her head. She didn’t know how to explain her decision in a way that didn’t sound foolish or selfish. “If you can see the future, Rhiannon,” she said. “Then tell me what the future holds for Rhun. Will he...” She took a ravaged breath. “In the battle that he says must come, will he...” She could not say the word. To speak it seemed too unchancy, as if she were prophesying his death.
Rhiannon shook her head. “I don’t know what the future holds for my stepson. It seems that the closer the person is to me, the less is revealed to me about their fate. There is a kind of protection in that. If something tragic is going to happen, I don’t have to suffer twice.”
“But you knew Rhun was coming today. You even told Gwenaseth to prepare a lavish meal.”
“But that had something to do with you, I think. I can see things regarding you.”
“Then tell me if I will be happy in the future, for that will tell me everything!” Eastra could hear her voice trembling with emotion, feel the tension stealing over her body.
“I can’t tell you that. My visions are vague and fleeting.”
“Can’t tell me? Or won’t?”
Rhiannon put her hand on Eastra’s arm. “Life is difficult, but there is always a purpose for everything. Now, go and dress. Make yourself beautiful for Rhun, so he will have that memory of you. Hurry now. The food will be served soon. I will send Melangel to help you.”
Clutching the priceless necklace in her fingers, Eastra left the queen’s bedchamber.
Chapter 16
By the time Eastra reached the hall, most people were seated. She looked around for Rhun and finally spied him surrounded by eager siblings. Gwydion and Mabon sat on either side of him. Elen and Anwyl next to them, while Beli stood nearby. Eastra hesitated, wondering if she should find a seat elsewhere, but then Beli spied her and came to escort her to Rhun. “Eastra’s our guest,” he told his brothers firmly when they reached the table. “She should sit next to Rhun.”
“Nay, that’s not necessary,” Eastra began. But Elen was already rising. “You can sit here, next to Eastra,” she told Mabon. “I’m going to help Gwenaseth.”
As Eastra sat down on the bench next to Rhun, he gave her a brilliant smile. Then his gaze took in the necklace, and his expression turned amazed. “Rhiannon gave you that, didn’t she?”
“Aye. I tried to refuse, but she insisted.”
Rhun nodded. “She’s right. It suits you perfectly.” His eyes met hers, their expression so heated and intense that Eastra felt a blush creep up her neck. “You’ve never looked more beautiful.” He leaned near and added, “Except when you are wearing nothing at all.”
Now her face was flaming. But she looked around and realized the only ones who could have heard Rhun were Mabon and Gwydion, and they were likely too young to understand anyway. They were also too engrossed in getting Rhun’s attention. Mabon grabbed at his older brother’s arm, crying out, “Rhun, Rhun, listen to me. We saw a fox family today and one of the kits almost let me get close enough to touch it. Mama says I have a way with animals. I’m going to train horses when I grow up.”
“But I’m the better fighter,” Gwydion insisted, leaning across Eastra. “I’m going to be a great warrior someday. As great as Papa.”
“Well, you’ll never be as big as Papa if you don’t eat,” Rhun said. “And that means you must both go to your mother. I’m not going to have any young pups dribbling their pottage on me.”
“I’ll take them,” Anwyl said. “I’m sure you and Eastra have much to talk about.” She rose and dragged her reluctant brothers away.
Eastra looked at Rhun, then took a bite of bread spread with butter and honey and thought about all that was left unspoken between them. Swallowing she said, “What did your father say when you asked him about sending warriors to fight for Arthur?”
Rhun’s expression turned grim. “He said he would not waste good warriors on a cause that can’t be won. He told me if Arthur were wise, he would sue for peace with both the Saxons and the Picts. Set up boundary lines and divide the island between us.”
“What about that?” Eastra asked. “Why couldn’t Arthur do that?”
“Because the agreement would never hold. Cerdic—or some other Saxon after him—would get greedy and want more land. And then the fighting would start all over again.”
“But this way...” Eastra shook her head. “You yourself have suggested Arthur can’t win, so why bother fighting? Why not accept the inevitable?”
“You sound like my father! ‘Why not just give up?’ he asked me. I’ll tell you why—because even if we don’t win this battle, with every month and season of resistance, we slow down the enemy’s advance. And every year we hold them back, they absorb more of our ways, become more like us. Look at you, Eastra. You speak our tongue fluently, are familiar with our music and our tales, even dress like a British woman.”
She touched the blue gown Rhiannon had made for her, fashioned in the Cymry style.
Rhun continued, “When you have children, I can’t help thinking they will be raised not only to honor Saxon customs, but British as well.”
His words cut through her. Did he think when all of this was over, she would go back to her own people and marry one of Cerdic’s lesser thanes? That she would someday share her bed with a Saxon and bear his children? Did he think she had so little love for him that she could ever forget him and bind herself to a man who had been his enemy? Her voice when she spoke was taut and cold. “I’ll never wed a Saxon. Never. I could not.”
He flushed, looking as if he had just realized what his words implied. “I was speaking hypothetically,” he said. “Not about you, but other Saxon women like you.”
“What other Saxon women are there like me?” she asked. “Do you kno
w any? All the Saxon women I know who have had any contact with the British are either dead or enslaved!”
“We should not speak of these things,” Rhun said. “I don’t want to ruin what time we have left together.”
A fine time to consider that, Eastra thought bitterly. The sense of intimacy, of being joined body and soul, had evaporated as quickly as the water from the chilly pool had dried on their bodies. The horrible conflict between their peoples had risen up once more, dividing them, destroying any hope for happiness they might have shared. Now Eastra was glad she had not told him about the babe. It was her secret, a living promise of their love. Something that could not be tainted or damaged, ruined by the harsh words that had come between them.
She picked at her food. Rhun also appeared brooding and morose. She wished his brothers and sisters would come back so she would not have to be alone with him. To sit beside him and feel his coldness was like a dagger in her breast.
The meal dragged on. A few people came to speak to Rhun, but they did not linger long. As the servants began to clear away some of the tables for music and dancing, Eastra wondered how she was going to endure the rest of the night.
Then there was a commotion near the doorway and she saw a mud-spattered warrior greet Maelgwn. The king’s face grew grim. Then he gestured, pointing to where Rhun was sitting. Beside her, Rhun rose, and she could feel the tension in his body.
“Bedwyr.” Rhun’s voice sounded strange as he spoke to the man, a small, dark warrior with hard eyes. Eastra vaguely remembered him from the council meeting in Cerdic’s longhouse.
“Prince Rhun.” Bedwyr bowed. “I’ve come to tell you the truce is broken. Mordred is dead, and Arthur swears vengeance. He says to tell you to bring what men you can convince to join us and meet up with our forces on the march north.”
“Where will the battle be fought?” Rhun’s voice sounded strangled.
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