The Beast of Caer Baddan

by Rebecca Vaughn

  “She is very strong, but please, continue,” Owain said aloud.

  “The guards heard her screaming and went in and dragged Prince Cadfan out. I was woken and went down myself. I got the story from her when she stopped weeping, and ordered his head removed. I think he might have been nearly dead by then, but you must ask the Captain for particulars.”

  Owain nodded.

  There was much he must inquire of when he arrived in Baddan, but at least he would be home with his family.

  “Thank you, Da,” he said. “One more thing I must speak to you about.”

  “Of course,” King Irael replied. “What is it?”

  “I was thinking about what you said last winter,” Owain said. “How you wished to retire.”

  “Oh, do not worry about that, my son,” the king said, with a hearty laugh. “I know how you are not ready to leave the Army.”

  “But I have thought it over,” Owain said. “Your heart always troubles you, and I do not want you to work yourself to death.”

  “No, no,” King Irael replied. “I am perfectly healthy and shall continue to rule like you said. Do not worry for my sake, Son.”

  Owain was shocked by these words.

  His father had been weak, ill even, for Owain's entire life, and now the king was not only alive with energy but claiming to be healthy.

  “But your heart,” Owain said, confused.

  “I have not had any pain in my chest for over a week,” the king replied. “My heart is perfectly healthy. I might even live to be sixty.”

  Regardless of his relief and pleasure at this news, Owain could only stare at his father in surprise.

  “It is Leola,” Owain said, with a wide grin dancing on his face.

  King Irael gave him an innocent look, as if he did not know what his son was talking about.

  “Well,” Owain continued. “It is either Leola or it is Gratianna with her wishing stone. Which one?”

  King Irael burst in to laughter.

  “I confess!” he cried. “It is Leola. She has made me drink boiled hawthorn three or even four times a day the last two months. Foul, disgusting stuff, but it does work.”

  “Of course,” Owain replied, teasing. “It would be Leola who could get you to actually take your medicine.”

  “But you see that as I am no longer in danger, you should not have to give up the Army for me,” the king said. “I am very proud of you, my little Owain. I have always been. But I am now even more so. You are the greatest warrior. You shall soon be greater still.”

  Owain wondered what his father meant by this, but decided against inquiring. It was enough for him to know that his father thought so highly of him, that Owain did not care about the particulars of these prophetic words.

  The morning found Owain and his party packed and ready to leave for Baddan.

  “I shall be in Baddan in two weeks,” King Irael said, as he embraced Owain. “It seems I am quite behind in the affairs of the land.”

  “Your heart is healed,” Owain said. “That's what matters.”

  “I think both our hearts are healed,” his father replied.

  Owain knew well the truth of this and was glad that his father recognized it in him as well.

  When Owain and Annon arrived at the castle in Baddan, Queen Madge greeted them at the front door.

  “God keep you, Queen,” Owain said, with a respectful bow of the head.

  “God keep you, Dominae,” Queen Madge replied.

  She gave him a kiss on each cheek.

  “How is Leola?” Owain asked.

  “She is well,” Queen Madge replied. “But she is in need of her husband.”

  Owain nodded in understanding.

  “And you, my darling,” the queen said, placing both hands on Annon's smooth face. “I was going to go to Caer Gloui to get you. Your father requires your presence.”

  “Ah, no,” Annon replied.

  He squirmed in discomfort as his mother kissed him and ran her fingers through his loose hair.

  “Would that be possible, Dominae?” the queen asked.

  “Of course,” Owain replied.

  “Excellent,” the queen said. “Come, then. Gratianna is running around here somewhere. She would not forgive me if I kept you all to myself.”

  As they went inside, Annon complained to Owain.

  “Why did you not make up an excuse to keep me here?” he asked.

  Owain smiled and shook his head.

  “One day, you shall be King of Pengwern,” said Owain, “and trust me, you will value what you learn under your father's tutorage.”

  Annon let out a defeated sigh.

  “Here is the girl,” Queen Madge said.

  Gratianna rushed through the front hall and threw herself into Owain's open arms.

  “Tada! Tada! Tada!” she cried. “How I missed you! I love you! I love you! I love you!”

  “I love you too, my precious one,” he said.

  Owain scooped her up and kissed her round cheeks.

  “Oh, my!” he cried. “You are getting big!” And he pretended to have trouble lift her up.

  “I have been practicing the harp every day!” she squealed. “Queen Madge says I am getting quite good.”

  “That is true,” the queen said. “She sounds marvelous.”

  “I shall hear you play this evening then,” Owain replied. “Where is your mama?”

  “In the garden,” Gratianna said.

  Owain set her back down and directed her to lead the way, leaving Annon to the doting of his mother.

  Chapter Sixty One: Husband and Wife

  “Mama! Mama! Mama!” Gratianna cried.

  “What is wrong, Dearest?” Leola asked.

  “Tada’s here!” and the little girl burst into a long stream of giggles.

  “Oh!” Leola gasped.

  She came to her feet and looked up where Gratianna pointed at an approaching Owain.

  “You have returned,” she said, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Yea, Beauty,” Owain said.

  Somehow, Leola felt that he was different, changed, for there seemed to be a quiet peace about his mien that she had never seen before.

  “Did anything special happen?” she asked.

  “Something did happen but it is a story for another day,” Owain replied, with a smile. “Prince Annon is here with me and Queen Madge shall take him back to Pengwern when she leaves.”

  Leola was glad for this, for although she had appreciated the queen's company for the last four days, what she really wanted was to be alone in Owain's arms.

  “I saw my father in Corin,” he continued.

  Leola nodded. “He left three days ago,” Leola replied. “He said that it was important, but he promised to drink the hawthorn with every meal.”

  “I believe he has kept that oath,” Owain said, with a laugh. “He was healthier then I have ever seen him.”

  “I am glad,” she said. “Oh, Owain!”

  Leola gasped, fighting back the tears.

  He took her cheeks in his broad hands and stared down into her eyes, and she felt that he could fill her with his strength.

  “Shh, Beauty,” Owain said. “We shall speak of that later. For now, focus on the little ones. Tell me what they have been doing.”

  “Euginius is crawling,” Gratianna said. “And now Ambrosius wants to crawl too.”

  “That’s good, my love,” Owain said over his shoulder. “But let Mama talk.”

  Gratianna went back and forth throughout the garden chasing bugs, leaving Owain and Leola to each other.

  Leola let out a little giggle. “It is true,” she said. “Euginius is crawling, although it is very slow. He is an ambitious little boy.”

  “As long as he doesn’t run off to the North Country to fight the Pictii.”

  “Hopefully not for a very long time,” she replied. “They are both of them cutting teeth. They shall soon want our food in place of milk. And you can see that their hair is c
hanging color.”

  “No longer red,” he replied, gazing down at the babies.

  “Yea,” she said. “But a mixture of red and blond I suppose.”

  “Yea. It almost looks almost like gold,” and he smiled. “A fitting color for princes.”

  Princes!

  Her sons were aethelings, princes, and when they were grown, they too would command people’s fear and respect just as Owain had received from the knights and soldiers and everyone who saw him.

  Owain knelt down close to the infants and touched their soft tunics with the palms of his hands.

  “What is this they are wearing?” he said in amazement.

  His fingers traced the embroidery on the cloth, following along the intricate boarders and caressing the symbols on their chests.

  “I finished my embroidery,” Leola said, hesitating.

  “This is what you have been making?”

  “Yea,” she replied. “Do you like it?”

  Owain gasped. “I love it,” he said, his voice revealing his surprise and delight. “They are my trees.”

  “I copied it from the knife.”

  Owain looked over at her, gazing into her eyes as if he could not get enough of them.

  “What is it?” she said.

  “I am glad to be home, Beauty,” he said.

  She could not help but smile.

  “I am glad too, Owain,” she replied.

  She let her head rest in his hands and closed her eyes. Somehow, she felt her whole body relax under his touch.

  He was home again. Everything was perfect.

  After Queen Madge and Annon were gone north to Pengwern, Owain found Leola alone in the serenity of her outer room. He wrapped his arms around her, as she let out her tears on his shoulder.

  “It was so terrible!” she cried. “His face, staring out into nothing, as if life itself was slipping from his eyes!”

  Owain held her tightly in his arms, rocking her back and forth.

  “Weep, Beauty,” he whispered in her hair. “Get all of the anguish out. You shall feel better once you have let it go.”

  She sobbed and whimpered, but he felt her push closer into the comfort of his body.

  “He was going to kill the babies!” she cried. “Father said it is because of the Isca. But why? Why murder infants?”

  “I have taken care of the Isca clan,” Owain replied. “They shall not bother you or the children again. No one shall ever try to harm you.”

  “Taken care of them?” she gasped, her eyes growing wide with horror. “How?”

  “Sometimes the only way to end a war is with peace,” Owain replied. “I have made a peace with their new king, and unlike King Cadfan, I believe he will keep it.”

  “I am glad,” she muttered. “But I was so frightened. And worse still, I was angry!”

  “Yea, Beauty,” Owain said. “Of course. He threatened our children. Of course you were furious.”

  “I never knew I could be so incensed,” Leola moaned. “Or that I would be so glad to see a man die!”

  “Yea,” Owain said. “Now, do not think on King Cadfan again. He was a coward, and not worth any regret. None of them are worth any regret. Not Lord Eisu, or that assassin, or the ridend in Anlofton.”

  She stared up at him in shock.

  “How did you know I killed a Britisc ridend?” she gasped.

  He had not actually known, but had guessed when he saw the Roman style boats peeking out of the pile of skulls.

  “Leola,” he said, running his fingers over her head and through her hair. “Listen well to what I say. None of them are worth any regret, or any thought, or any consideration. Do not dwell on them. I do not want your heart poisoned by horrible memories the way mine was. Do you understand?”

  She nodded affirmation, and he held her in the security of his embrace.

  “But you are not angry at me?” she asked.

  “What?” he said. “Of course not, Beauty.”

  He kissed her over and over, until the her tears dried and her breathing returned to normal.

  Gratianna played the harp for Owain that evening as they relaxed in the sitting room.

  “I beg your pardon, Prince,” the steward said to Owain, “but shall you be attending the Circle of Kings?”

  “The Circle of Kings?” Owain said, his eyes wide in surprise.

  Owain was certain that the Circle of Kings had never met in either his or his great-grandfather’s lifetimes. He could not see how was it possible that one was called now.

  “The king has been summoned to the Circle of Kings,” the steward replied. “I thought that you might attend as well, as you are the dominae.”

  Owain shook his head, in bewilderment.

  “I have had no summons myself,” he said. “I suspect that Cynan King of Venedotia has done this, for he is the Elder King, but why?”

  “You shall have to ask the king, Prince,” the steward said.

  When the servant left, Leola ventured a word.

  “Perhaps one of the kings is in conflict with another?” she asked.

  “I hope not,” Owain replied, with a laugh. “It took me six weeks to settle the dispute between Lerion and Went.”

  “Well,” Leola said. “It must be important to call kings away from their lands in the middle of the year. What if one kingdom should be attacked while its ruler is at this meeting?”

  “True,” Owain said. “But no worry for that. I shall have the Army mobile as long the kings are in Gloui.”

  Yet he could not think of a logical reason for the kings to meet at all. Or more strangely, that his father had not mentioned it when he was in Corin.

  Owain did not let the mystery of the forthcoming circle bother him, for he had greater things on his mind since the war against the Angles.

  Owain was sure that his mother knew of his struggles and had released him from the debt he had always felt he owed to her. The knowledge of this lifted a burden from his shoulders.

  What he was not certain of was whether he was ready to lead a sedentary life or if he might become restless for want of travel and war, disquieted from staying in the confines of Glouia and aching for a major battle that might never again arise in that land.

  Owain laughed over his contradiction, that away he should wish to be home, and that at home he should then wish to be away. He felt that his heart was resolved on the matter of his retirement.

  His father was well, healed by the caring hands of Leola, and thus Owain would remain with the Army. He would not retire his position, but keep on fighting for the kings and the people, as long as he could.

  Owain stood first before the statue of Mascen and for the first time, he saw the turmoil that his grandfather must have faced at such an uncertain time. How Mascen must have debated every action he took and decision he made.

  Owain then strode over to the statue of himself, which his father had erected in memory of his death the year before. It was repaired and back on its stand in the most prominent place in the room.

  Owain realized with some surprise, that he had avoided it every time he entered the armory. It was a horrific reminder of not only his death but of his own former beauty. He recognized now, with satisfaction, that it did not pain him to look on it. He could see himself for what he had been, handsome and devilish.

  Finally, he made his way to the statue of his mother. She was cast in bronze and gazing down on him with calm serenity.

  He reached out and touched her polished foot.

  “Thank you, Mam,” he said.

  He knew that the statue was just a piece of craftsmanship, and yet felt in his heart that his mother had heard his voice.

  He heard the gentle steps of Leola enter the army and come up behind him.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked.

  “Of my mother,” Owain replied.

  “You miss her.”

  Owain thought on these words for a moment.

  He did miss his mother, was certain that he alw
ays would, but her memory did not leave a gaping hole in his heart as it had before. He could think on her with peace and satisfaction.

  “Yea,” he said out loud. “But you know what they say, our ancestors’ souls are granted to us. Perhaps her soul was given to Gratianna.”

  “So, does that mean that our souls shall live on in our grandchildren?” Leola asked, as if trying to understand.

  “Perhaps,” Owain said, a little surprise, for he had not thought of that before. “Yea, Beauty, perhaps they shall.”

  His soul could go to one of their grandsons, for that would be the most fitting end to all the tragedy and pain that they had suffered.

  “I am going to bed now,” Leola said.

  Owain looked on her anxious face and could see the reddening hue in her checks. Her lips parted in a hushed gasp and her eye seemed to search his own.

  “You are healed then?” Owain asked, with a gentle smile.

  “Yea,” she said.

  And he heard that nervous little flutter in her voice.

  Owain cradled her head gently in his broad hands, and the tips of his thumbs stroked her soft cheeks. His lips brushed over her eyes and forehead.

  “You do not have to be frightened of me, Beauty,” he whispered.

  “I’m not,” she replied.

  “Good.”

  Owain swept her up in both arms and strode out of the armory towards her bedroom.

  Chapter Sixty Two: News, Good or Bad

  Two weeks later brought Britu, Swale, and Annon back to Baddan. Owain was pleased to see them but perplexed as to why they should visit without any apparent reason.

  “Have you heard the news?” Britu asked.

  “What news?” Owain asked.

  “As Elder King, Cynan King of Venedotia has called a meeting of the Circle of Albion,” his cousin replied.

  “Ah,” Owain replied. “I had heard that.”

  “Well?” Swale said, as if prompting Owain to speak.

  “What is it?” Owain asked.

  Swale laughed, and Owain gave him a suspicious eye, unsure of what his clansman had done.

  “Does it not seem strange?” Britu asked.

  “It does,” Owain said, still frowning at Swale. “There has not been a meeting for four hundred years.”