The Dragon Prince

by Mary Gillgannon

  “Cerdic has taken over the old Roman fort of Eburacum. The Saxon seawolves have joined up there with the Pictish curs, and they will come down upon us like a ravening pack if we do not ride to stop them.”

  Eastra saw Rhun nod. Then he glanced her way, the briefest of looks. “And the hostage?” His voice was a thin whisper.

  Bedwyr looked at her then, too, with eyes like a bird of prey. “You know your duty.”

  Rhun exhaled, and the life seemed to seep out of her at the same moment. Bedwyr had just ordered her death.

  A part of her accepted it. If she could not have Rhun, did she really want to live? But then she thought about the babe and realized she could not sacrifice its life with her own. She would have to try to escape, to run away before Rhun could carry out his duty—killing her. Warily, she glanced around. Maelgwn did not answer to the high king. He was an ally, as were Rhiannon and the rest of the people of Deganwy.

  As if in answer to her thought, Maelgwn approached and put his huge hand on her shoulder. “You have brought your message,” he announced to Bedwyr. “If you make your way to the kitchen, I will see you are fed before you leave Deganwy. I’m certain you are in a hurry to return to your commander.” Maelgwn nodded to his son. “There are things we must speak of ere you leave.”

  Rhun rose. He appeared pale, in shock. She could not help pitying him. She loved him too much not to care that he had been forced into an awful dilemma. No matter what he chose, he would be wracked with guilt the rest of his life.

  Not that she intended to allow him to carry out his duty. Her death would serve no purpose. It would not bring peace. Indeed, it would inspire her uncle to fight even more fiercely. Though Cerdic might not care for her, she was a symbol of his power. He would not let her death go unavenged.

  But Arthur must feel exactly the same way. Which was why he had ordered her death. And Cerdic must know that, know she would die and the war escalate and become even more bitter and destructive. Why had he done it? she wondered. Killing a hostage to incite his enemy to war was not something she could envision her uncle doing. A strange sense went through her. Something was not right here.

  She looked around for Rhiannon. If anyone could help her puzzle out this thing, it was the queen. She saw Beli nearby, looking perplexed. “Where’s your mother?” Eastra asked.

  “She went to put the twins to bed” Beli answered. As she started to move past him, he grasped her arm. “What’s wrong? What’s happened? I didn’t hear.”

  “There’s going to be war, a terrible battle.” She brushed by him and made her way out into the courtyard. Seeing Bedwyr coming back from the kitchen, she hurried the other direction. Twice she glanced behind, wondering if he might not decide to pursue her and kill her himself.

  But no one followed her. She continued running until she reached the wing where the children slept. She met Rhiannon coming out. “Something’s wrong,” she told the queen. “I don’t understand why my uncle would kill Mordred. I think it’s a trick. Someone wants Arthur to order my death. Then war will be inevitable.”

  Rhiannon nodded. “You may be right. I have sensed treachery surrounding you from the moment we met.”

  “I have to go to my uncle,” Eastra said abruptly. “I must speak to Cerdic and find out the truth. Once he sees me alive, perhaps he will honor the fact that Arthur has shown me mercy. Then there might be a chance for them to meet and work this out. If Arthur and Cerdic could talk, just the two of them, I think they could come to agreement. It is their supporters—my uncle’s thanes, Arthur’s Companions—who make peace impossible. I think many of them want war. For without war there is no plunder, no glory, and that’s what they live for.”

  Rhiannon looked thoughtful. “If war must come, it will come. But I do think it is time you went back to your own people. I will ask Maelgwn to provide an escort for you.”

  “And Rhun?” Eastra asked, then wished she hadn’t spoken.

  “Do you wish to say good-bye to him?”

  She shook her head. It would be unbearable to face him now. To see the anguish in his eyes and know he was torn between his sense of duty to Arthur and his feelings for her. And also to know that if his sense of duty prevailed, her lover, the man who was the father of her unborn child, might be willing to sacrifice her life.

  * * *

  Rhun glanced absently around his father’s council room, thinking how different it was from Arthur’s. The high king’s headquarters contained a huge round table for all the Companions to sit around and was decorated with luxurious furnishings. This chamber was stark and empty, as if it was rarely used. There was a layer of dust on the furniture, and the parchment maps and other documents were all neatly rolled and put away on shelves along one wall. Maelgwn—his lands guarded by the mountains and strong treaties made in his younger days—had been able to live in peace for over a score of years.

  Once Rhun had despised his father for choosing to live a quiet life, content to rule his small corner of Britain and ignore the turmoil afflicting the rest of the country. But now he wondered if his sire’s choice did not show wisdom after all. Maelgwn had given his people two decades of peace, an opportunity to raise their children in prosperity and safety. Meanwhile, Arthur had fought the Saxons and lost countless companions, friends and warriors. Now that Mordred was dead, Arthur had no heir to follow after him. When the Saxon tide finally swept over them, would anyone remember what Arthur had done?

  Maelgwn was probably correct in thinking the Saxons would never penetrate this far, never conquer Cymru lands. Maelgwn’s dynasty might well endure, while Arthur would be forgotten.

  Rhun sighed heavily. It didn’t matter that he saw these things now. He’d made his choice years ago, and there was no escaping it. He was Arthur’s man.

  The door opened with a creaking sound. The lamplights wavered as Maelgwn entered. He approached Rhun and said, “I’m sorry I kept you waiting.”

  The remark surprised Rhun. In his experience, his father never apologized.

  “I suppose you’ll be leaving soon. You’ll have to go with Bedwyr, off to fight the enemy.”

  Rhun nodded. Maelgwn moved nearer. He put his hand on Rhun’s arm. In the flickering lamplight, an expression of weariness dragged down Maelgwn’s features, revealing the over five decades he’d lived. “I may never see you again, and I don’t want this parting to be one of bitterness. Even if we’ve quarreled and argued every time we’ve met as men, I don’t want you to forget that I love you. You are my firstborn and you’ve grown up to be a fine, courageous man. I’m proud of you, my son.”

  There were tears in Maelgwn’s eyes. Rhun felt them start in his own. So much to say. So little time.

  Rhun turned and Maelgwn embraced him, a fierce, spine-cracking hug that reminded Rhun his father was not quite yet in his dotage. Then Maelgwn released him. “It’s a brave, heroic thing to do your duty, even when it is onerous and painful. I honor you for your courage, even as I wish it did not have to be like this. But no matter what you’ve sworn to Arthur, there are oaths that take precedence over those given to men.”

  Maelgwn’s face was composed and kingly once more, but his voice was impassioned. “Your stepmother and I raised you to honor and respect women, to acknowledge the sacred gift they possess of being able to create life. Despite your belief in the Christian god, we hope you won’t turn away from the Goddess, the great mother herself. If Arthur calls upon you to offer up Princess Eastra’s life in exchange for Mordred’s, no matter your oath, you must refuse that duty. You are Arthur’s man, but you are the Great Mother’s own flesh.”

  Rhun felt a wan smile forming on his lips. No wonder Maelgwn was acting so tense and strange. He was worried about Eastra. “Do you really think I could do such a thing?” he asked his father. “Even if I could get past the horror of killing a woman and an innocent, there is also the fact that I love Eastra more than my own life.”

  “You’ve decided then? You will refuse Arthur’s order?”

&n
bsp; Rhun nodded. “I have to. As you have said, to be a dutiful, devoted soldier is a noble thing, but it’s only part of what I am.” He looked away. Now it was his turn to be overcome with emotion. “What I have shared with Eastra is beyond any oath I could have sworn to either man or goddess. I feel she is a part of me. Without her, I scarce want to live.”

  “Then why are you leaving her to go and fight a war you cannot win? Why not stay here and wed her and give her children? Why not allow both of you a chance for happiness?”

  Rhun shook his head. “Because as much as I love her, I am still Arthur’s man. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t go to him now. Even what I share with Eastra would not be enough for me to overcome my guilt over breaking my oath.”

  Maelgwn exhaled sharply. “I tell myself I haven’t raised a fool, that you are simply young and rash and haven’t learned the real lessons of life. Rhiannon would advise me to hold my temper, to let what must be, be. But it is near impossible for me to stand by and watch this”—he sputtered—“this pigheaded idiocy of yours!”

  Rhun’s mouth twisted into a bitter smile. This was the father he remembered. Tender and loving one moment, hot-tempered and domineering the next. There was a kind of comfort in Maelgwn’s fury. It ignited his own stubborn will and made it possible for him to do what he had to do. “But in the end, you will listen to Rhiannon, father,” he answered coolly. “You always do.”

  Maelgwn glared at him, then started for the door.

  Rhun took a deep breath as his father left. He knew Bedwyr expected him to set out this very night, but there were some things he had to do first. He must say good-bye to Rhiannon and the children. Then he would go to the chapel and pray for strength—the strength to say good-bye to Eastra. He would find her and, if she let him, he would love her one last time. Then, in the morning, he would leave.

  * * *

  The door to her bedchamber opened. Eastra looked up from packing. She’d expected to see Rhiannon, and her heart did a little jump when she realized Maelgwn was standing there. As always, he intimidated her and made her uneasy. Maybe it was because he reminded her of Cerdic. The same sense of power, of implacable will, seemed to flow from him as it did from her uncle. She straightened. If she intended to face down her uncle and force him to listen to her, she might as well practice being brave with Maelgwn.

  “I have come from talking to Rhun,” he said. “I can assure you he has no intention of harming you. There’s no reason for you to leave Deganwy.”

  Eastra cleared her throat and tried to make her voice sound strong and calm. “Did Rhiannon not tell you? I mean to go to see my uncle. To talk to him and try to convince him to honor the truce, or to at least give Arthur a chance to negotiate another one. I’m going to attempt to stop this awful battle from taking place.”

  Maelgwn shook his head. “Although I don’t know your uncle, I know a little about the Saxons. I don’t think Cerdic is the kind of man who will listen to a woman, no matter if she speaks good sense. I think you are wasting your time.” He walked across the room and, looking thoughtful, picked up the sapphire necklace from the chest where she had laid it. As he examined it, Eastra wondered if he was angry that Rhiannon had given it to her. Perhaps since it was a legacy of his family, he would not recognize his wife’s right to offer it to her. She opened her mouth to say that she was not taking the necklace with her, that she knew she had no right to it. But Maelgwn suddenly looked at her, and the intensity of his blue eyes—as vivid as the stones in the necklace—froze the words in her throat.

  “I know you want to stop this war,” he said. “I think you are a brave and courageous woman to attempt such a thing. But I must plead with you not to leave here, but to stay and work your powers of persuasion on my son instead of your uncle. Convince Rhun not to go and fight this war. I feel as if he is going to his death. A wasteful, stupid death, since Arthur cannot win. And even more wasteful because of what he leaves behind.” His gaze grew almost tender. “He loves you, and your love can save him. I beg you to do this... for both of us.”

  She released the breath she had been holding in a shuddering sigh. If only she could do what Maelgwn asked. But she knew she could not, for no matter how she tried to bind Rhun to her, no matter what heart-stopping intimacy they shared, he would still choose to leave her. And knowing that, she was unwilling to do as Maelgwn requested, to try to make Rhun stay and then have her heart broken when she failed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Your faith in me is misplaced. Rhun loves me, but he loves his duty more. I will not fight a battle I can’t win. I don’t even plan to see Rhun before I leave.”

  She had to resist the urge to touch her stomach as she thought of the babe, the gift Rhun had given her that no one could take away. But she did not want Maelgwn to know she carried his grandchild. She feared if he knew of it, he would be more insistent than ever that she not leave Deganwy. Thank the Goddess, Rhiannon understood her situation and was willing to help her. She invoked the queen’s name as she said, “Rhiannon has promised you will provide an escort for me. I hope you haven’t changed your mind. You could keep me as a prisoner here, but I beg you not to.”

  Something in Maelgwn’s face changed, and he looked suddenly thoughtful. “Of course I will provide an escort,” he said. “You have never been our prisoner here, only an honored guest.” He bowed. “Fare you well, Princess Eastra. I wish you the best in your journey and in your purpose. May the Goddess protect you and keep you.”

  She nodded back, embarrassed by his deference. He was a king, while she was only a princess, the princess of a people who did not usually count women as very important. But somehow, she had to try to overcome that, to change the future, despite her sex.

  * * *

  Rhun wearily left the chapel. It seemed that he had been praying for hours. But none of it—the comforting ritual, the familiar surroundings of the chapel of his boyhood, the heartfelt quest for answers—none of it had afforded him any peace. He was exhausted, so weary in mind and spirit that he wondered if he could perform even if Eastra allowed him to make love to her. And yet he wanted to leave her with something, some breathtaking memory of what they shared. He hoped the magic of their coupling would sustain her even if he never saw her again. He told himself that as soon as he beheld her beauty, his body would stir to life. The anguish and grief would fall away and they would share one last night of ecstasy and contentment.

  He approached the guest bedchamber where he knew she slept. As he was almost to the door, he sensed a shadow moving behind him. He turned and was startled to see Balyn and Elwyn, two of his father’s oldest companions. There was a faint hiss as they drew their swords. His eyes widened as he realized what was happening. “Here, now, Rhun,” Balyn said in the rumbling voice that matched his bulk, “We don’t want to hurt you. But rather a few sword cuts than a Saxon war axe in the throat. We’re here to escort you back to your old bedchamber.”

  “Damn him,” Rhun swore. “I can’t believe Rhiannon would let him do this.”

  Balyn took his arm in an iron-like grip. “The queen doesn’t command us. We’re the king’s men. And he says you’ll be staying at Deganwy.”

  Rhun sighed. He could try to fight, but what would that accomplish? Every man in the fortress answered to his father. If Maelgwn didn’t want him to leave, he would not be going anywhere.

  He let the guards quietly escort him to the doorway of the bedchamber, then turned and faced them. “If I’m going to be a prisoner, at least let me have some company. I would ask that Princess Eastra be brought to me.” In the torchlight, he observed the odd looks on their faces and added quickly, “On my honor, I will not harm her. My father knows that. I’m sure if you ask him, he will agree to let me see the princess.”

  Balyn cleared his throat. “I’m sure he would, but that hardly matters. She left Deganwy a few hours ago.”

  “Left?” Rhun had been resigned to his imprisonment, and accepted that his father had seen fit to physically prevent him from jo
ining Arthur. But this new information aroused a kind of panic inside him. “How could my father allow her to leave? Doesn’t he know Arthur has pronounced her death sentence? How could he do something so foolish?”

  Rhun started to push past his guards, determined to somehow stop Eastra and get her safely back to Deganwy. They grabbed him. He struggled fiercely, screaming, “Eastra! Eastra!” A dozen men came out of the shadows. He fought them all, but it was no use. Finally, hoarse and aching from the ordeal, he was shoved into the bedchamber and the door locked behind him.

  Panting, he rose to his feet. He considered beating on the door, seeing if he could get Rhiannon, his brothers or sisters, one of the servants who remembered him—any of them—to help him. He realized it was hopeless. There would be guards outside the door, and they would let no one enter except those who honored the king’s will.

  He went to the bed and slumped down upon it. Then there was a sound at the door, and he lunged up again. He started forward, half ready to resume his fight.

  But it was Rhiannon who slipped through the door as it opened. She shut it carefully behind her and faced him with a tranquil expression.

  “How can you let him do this?” Rhun demanded. “I’m a man grown! He has no right to control my life! To dictate what I do!” He softened his tone. “Help me, Rhiannon. You know this isn’t right. You once hid from Maelgwn for months and let him think you were dead. You defied him because you resented the way he treated you like a possession. Well, now he’s doing it to me! If I want to throw away my life in Arthur’s cause—as he puts it—then it’s my right to do so! It is my life to give, no matter how foolish he thinks the sacrifice!”

  Rhiannon put her hand on his arm. “I can’t sway him in this. He’s afraid. He feels he’s lost Bridei. He cannot bear to lose you as well.”

  “But is that love? Or simply his selfish need to control me?”

  “It is love. You have to understand. Maelgwn has never really gotten over losing Aurora and the babe. That loss near broke him, and he doesn’t want to endure such grief ever again.”