Leola was grateful for the understanding, especially when word came that King Gourthigern and Queen Severa had arrived at the castle. Owain's deplorable aunt was the last person Leola wished to have breakfast with and now more then ever.
Thus she ate in the quiet sanctuary of her outer room and gazed out into the pleasant garden.
Perhaps she would not be so miserable after all.
The door opened, and Leola knew who her guest was without looking.
“Princess Leola,” came Queen Severa's superior voice.
“Queen Severa,” Leola replied.
What could you possibly have to say say to me, now!
She was far to irritated to rise to her feet or greet the queen, or even to gife her an acknowledging glance.
“I spoke with my brother, King Irael,” Queen Severa said. “Prince Owain is going to declare a divorce. He shall not return here to Baddan.”
Really!
Perhaps that was a bit less humiliating then being denied, but divorces were supposed to but mutual, and Owain had not bothered to ask her. Or maybe he had tried to the night before. Leola was unsure.
“I wanted you to know that we are sorry that it has happened like this,” the queen continued.
At once, Leola found her tongue to speak but still did not bother to look at her adversary.
“Are you?” she asked. “Did you not try to convince the king to hide me away? And quietly accuse me of lying about my children's parentage?”
For Leola was convinced that Queen Severa had not believed Owain to be the father of her babies.
“I confess, I doubted your integrity,” Queen Severa replied.
Somehow, Leola was certain this was a huge penance for the proud woman but was still unimpressed by it. The queen had ridiculed her and now could not even offer her an apology. Why should Leola act as if it had not happened?
“Leola,” Queen Severa said. “I wanted you to know that your sons are Andoco-”
“I have known that since before their birth,” Leola replied.
Leola could tell that Queen Severa was frustrated and embarrassed by the dialogue and was secretly glad.
“And that the Andoco take care of their own,” the queen continued.
But of course the Andoco would care for them! All of the Andoco except their own father!
What a silly notion that was. Ridiculous, absurd, and probably true.
“You need not be afraid-” the queen's odious voice went on.
Leola had heard enough.
She came to her feet and pushed her breakfast tray away. Then she took up the shawl that Gytha had laid out for her, draped it about her shoulders, and arranged her hair long hair over it.
With neither a word nor a nod of acknowledgement, Leola strode passed the queen and walked out the door.
She did not care about half repentant words or patronizing tones. This was still her home, and she did not have to listen to the superiority of Owain's aunt.
Chapter Sixty Four: The Circle of Kings
The late morning found Leola at the sitting room window, staring out into the courtyard. Her sorrowful eyes watched Owain speaking to the Captain of the Guard at the steps of the castle.
King Irael, King Gourthigern, and Queen Severa had left for the Capital half an hour before, and now Owain would follow them.
As Leola looked on Owain, she knew that he must be dressed in his best armor, his gold chain, and a wool brat of six colors that was wrapped around him and fastened at the shoulder. A long red cape draped from his shoulders, and his conical helmet, decorated with carved spirals, was tucked under his arm. He wore no paint on his face, but had his weapons belt around him with both his short sword and his longsword, the famous Calybs. He was altogether the perfect image of a powerful prince.
Leola watched as the servants brought out a slender chariot drawn by a large war pony. He stepped on it and disappeared out the front gate.
“Owain Aetheling has gone to the City of Gloui,” she said, half to herself and half to Gytha who had walked in behind her.
“Yea, Leola,” Gytha replied. “I heard that it shall be a long meeting. I suspect he shall not return today.”
I suspect he shall not return at all.
“I shall take the children out to the garden again today,” Leola said. “It is warm and pleasant.”
“Yea, Leola.”
Gytha curtsied and left the room, but when she had closed the door, Leola could no longer contain herself. Her breath became short and halted, and bitter tears fell down her cheeks. Her shaking knees failed below her, letting her fall into a heap on the floor. Her whole heart swelled in agony.
Oh, God, why? Why? Why? Why?
What she did not wish to admit, even to herself, was that she loved him. She loved him dearly, and now he was gone forever.
But sadness and despair were not emotions that she would allow to consume her.
Leola was a strong woman, and had built herself up to any challenge that she might face. She had withstood the illnesses and deaths of both of her parents and worked hard to keep her father’s land. She had managed to defend herself against the warrior Raynar. She had braved escaping from a Britisc camp and walked most of a day and night to Anlofton. She had stabbed a knight and a prince to death, birthed two children, and saved the younger one from a mysterious sickness.
I have my babies to think about now.
Whatever happened, she would stand above it.
We are strongest when we are weak.
Leola whipped the tears from her burning checks with a flick of her fingertip and stiffened her lip. She gathered her skirts up in her trembling hands, rising to her feet. One foot found its place before the other, allowing her to move forward. Her back stiffened, pulling her head up taller and letting her lungs fill with air. Breathing returned to normal. She dropped her shoulders back and smiled a calm, pleasant smile.
Suddenly, a strange sensation ran through her.
This is what it is really like to be a cwen, a queen. Beaten, and broken, and walking away with the head held high.
The irony struck her.
Now when Owain should reject her, was when she actually felt that she was completely queen.
At least if Owain is gone to Gloui, I shall not have the agony of looking at him and knowing he is not mine.
With that last thought, she sailed out of room.
Caer Gloui was ripe with activity. The people of the city filled the walls and leaned out of the windows to see the parade. Those of the countryside crowded the roads leading to the open gates. Children waved brightly colored flags baring the Red Dragon, the symbol of the island. Everyone was anxiously awaiting the Circle’s decision.
When Owain approached the city, the crowd rang out with cheers.
“Owain Finddu! Owain Finddu!” they cried.
“See how they love you?” Annon said, when Owain reached the courtyard and dismounted.
“They need me,” Owain said, thinking out loud.
“That is true.” Annon said. “We all need you.”
Owain wondered how much of their eagerness to bestow this great honor on him was based on their own necessity.
“Who is here?” he asked.
“Prince Swale and Prince Britu are here already,” Annon replied, “as well as all of the kings.”
“That is good,” Owain said with a nod.
They went inside the palace and walked across the front hall towards the Hall of the Kings.
“Prince Owain!” rang a cheery voice.
Owain knew it belonged to Lady Gwawl. He had not seen her for a year and a half, ever since the feast her father King Coel had given him after their second victory over the invading Pictii. King Coel had sent her away to Venedotia that very night.
“Go on, Annon,” Owain said. “I shall be there in a moment.”
Annon went with a backwards glance at the lady, but Owain did not speak to her until the boy was through the great doors and out of sight.
>
“Gwawl ferch Coel,” Owain said. “Gwawl daughter of Coel.”
When he turned around to face her, his steady eyes caught that first look of delight in her face that soon melted into surprise and disappointment as she gazed on him.
“You are...” she began.
“Scarred, Lady,” Owain said, with a pleasant smile. “Ie, and they are permanent. No ointment or herb shall take them away.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, and he felt that she meant it. “They said that you were burned, but I did not realize that it... it...”
“Was this horrible?” Owain supplied. “Ie. It is.”
Lady Gwawl rubbed her hands together in what Owain guessed was a nervious gesture.
“Does it hurt?” she asked, hesitating.
“No, not the scars, although they do itch sometimes,” Owain said. “My back hurts, although there are no new scars on it.”
“That is horrible.”
“No, not at all,” Owain replied. “For I see myself now as I should.”
“That is a wise thought,” she said, impressed but uninterested. “My father would love you now.”
Owain remembered how the king had not approved of his daughter’s attentions towards Owain or of Owain’s scandalous reputation.
“I dare say he would, but that is now of no consequence,” he said. “We have both of us gone our separate ways, I believe.”
“Ie, we have. God keep you, Prince Owain.”
She went out to the garden then, and he was left with neither sadness nor regret.
“Dominae?” said a voice
Owain looked over to see the mayor of the city standing by the open doors, waiting for him.
“The Circle of Kings is assembled, Dominae,” the mayor said.
“Thank you,” Owain replied.
He allowed himself to be directed inside to the hall.
Accurately named a “circle,” the kings were gathered in a large circular room, with a high dome ceiling and wide pillars covered with intricate carvings. Their chairs were grouped around the decorative floor in the center.
Owain knew that the floor was the work of ancient times. The palace had been renovated by the many emperors who ruled in Albion at the end of Roman domination, but circular floor of that great hall was from the days of old long since, when it was an open arena surrounded by dense forest.
Owain took the seat of a guest to the far left of the circle, with the kings of the island spanning the rest of the huge room. He looked on them and recounted his memories, the treaties signed, the wars fought, the feasts celebrated.
Cynan King of Venedotia, elder king of the Circle, whom Owain had helped to defeat invading Eire.
The King of Alt Clut, whom Owain had aided in his war first against the invading Eire, then the Novantae Pictii, and finally the fierce Attacotti.
The Vindi King of Ebrauc, whom Owain had rescued three times from the Angles.
Coel King of the Brigantae and brother-in-law to King Cynan, whom Owain had aided against the Maetae Pictii.
Emrys King of Pengwern, godfather to Owain's two sons and the father of Annon, whom Owain had rescued from the Attacotti and had trained to fight.
Iorwert King of Lerion, an Andoco clansman to Owain, and whom Owain had dueled for, helped bring about peace between him and his neighbors, and who had given him Calybs.
Rythergh King of Ewyas, Swale’s father, also an Andoco clansman to Owain, whom Owain had help save from assassination.
Irael King of Glouia, Owain’s own father.
Erb King of Gwent, clansman to Owain's mother and whom Owain had just aided against attacking Deisi Eire in a war that that king had actually started by his own foolishness.
Algwn King of Went, whom Owain had saved from the wrath of the King of Lerion.
The King of Ceint, whom Owain had rescued many times from the invading Saxons.
Gourthigern King of Atrebat and Powys, Andoco clansman to Owain and married to Owain’s aunt Severa. Owain had saved his capital Venta from being overrun by the Gewissae and Dumnonni alliance.
Britu Prince of Atrebat and acting Governor of Powys, Owain’s clansman and one of his closest friends.
The Gadeon King of the Dumnonni, Owain’s own cousin, whom Owain had made peace with to end the feud between their clans.
The King of Regia, whom Owain had mediated for to the King of Ceint.
Nwython King of Colun, whom Owain had saved from invading Saxons.
Owain remembered them, and every punch, kick, and knife stab that he endured for them. Every rope burn on his hands, club strike across his chest, and every time a sword blade had been pointed at his throat now screamed aloud for compensation.
He had withstood it for them, had risked his life a thousand times over since he was a young boy of fifteen and the emperors still ruled the island.
The final test was his painful and haunting death. The bright lights had stung his eyes. The foul smell of his own scorching body had filled his nostrils. The pain darting through his back had crippled him and even now would give him no rest. The horrible scars that he would carry on his face for the rest of his life were his proof that he had surrendered his life.
And these men would cast a vote to decide if he was worthy to rule them. They would decide if he had sacrificed enough.
Chapter Sixty Five: The End of All Things
“Cynan King of Venedotia residing!” the announcer said.
Owain wondered on the man’s motives, asking himself why he had called for the Circle. He also was unsure if the king would have called the meeting had he known that Owain, but a moment before it, would decide against being with that king’s own niece, Lady Gwawl.
Cynan King of Venedotia took his chair around the ancient circular floor. There was a place to his right for the adviser, which the Mayor of Gloui now filled, and after him all of the Kings of Albion.
“Great Kings of Albion,” the King of Venedotia said, “We meet together for the first time in five hundred years, for the first time since the reign of Beli the Old, in the days of old long since. We come together because it has occurred to us that we owe Owain much praise, much thanksgiving, and much honor for all the foes that he vanquished for us and our own. But also that it is necessary for us to have him. That without him we shall eventually be overrun by our enemies.”
Owain’s eyes lit up at these words for it came to him that this was the true answer to his deepest question.
The kings were electing him the Pendragon because they needed him to continue fighting their wars. If he retired his position as leader of the Army, they had no assurance that his successor would be as capable as he. Electing him the Pendragon would insure that Owain would, as long as he could still fight, be beating back the Eire, Pictii, Angles, or whomever peoples threatened Albion. He had spent ten years fighting their battles, and now they would force him to continue to fight by making their wars his own.
Owain smiled, for in spite of the political manipulation, he knew that it was a great honor and that the kings would not have agreed to meet had they not trusted him with that power.
“Owain Prince of Glouia,” the King of Venedotia said, “do you wish to address the Circle?”
“I do, Elder King,” Owain replied.
He rose to his feet and came to the center of the floor, where they all could see him.
“Great Kings of Albion,” Owain said. “You know well my ancestors who ruled many tribes, won many battles, and made many laws. You know all the wars that I have fought for you against the Angles, the Saxons, the Eire, the Attacotti, the Pictii, the Gewissae-”
His mind raced at this word, thinking of the war in Hol and the dream that caused him to do the unimaginable. But his voice went steadily on.
“-and the Deisi Eire of Dyfed. I have battled for this land. I have served this land. I have defended this land. I have given up my life for this land. And I have returned from grave for this land. I was made dominae over the Army of Albion, and whateve
r your decision is, I shall continue to defend it as I have always done. I am Owain ap Irael Prince of Glouia, an Andoco of the house of Rheiden, of the line of Mascen.”
“Leave to speak, Elder King,” said the King of Colun.
“Speak, King Nwython,” the King of Venedotia replied.
Owain’s steady eyes fell back on Nwython King of Colun, and in an instant, he knew that the king was one man who would vote against him. Although Gratianna’s mother had been a mere chieftain’s niece, she was a Trinovanti and a lady. Owain had rejected her and then less than four years later married a Gewissae commoner. The King of Colun was unlikely to forget this slight no matter how many times Owain beat the Saxons away from his shores.
“Prince Owain,” the King of Colun said, “who is your wife? Who shall be called Queen of Albion?”
Owain did not pause to think but instead gave a prompt answer.
“Leola of the Gewissae is my wife. Euginius Aurelianus, my first born son, whom she bore to me, is my heir.”
The company was silent.
“And now, great Kings of Albion,” Owain said. “I leave you to your discussion. God keep you all.”
With that, he left the Hall of Kings.
Britu rose and followed Owain out.
“You have done what is right, Owain,” he said, when he had caught up to his cousin’s quick steps. “You have every reason to be proud.”
“Not proud, Clansman,” Owain replied. “Relieved. That is done. I shall return to Caer Baddan. I shall go back to my family. God keep you.”
“God keep you, Owain,” Britu said.
He could not help but be pleased of his cousin’s decision. The man, whom he had called a fiend a mere fifteen months before, had not only married a woman who possessed nothing at all but had stood by her, even when everything could be gained by a simple denial.
“I’m proud of you, Owain!” he yelled after him.
Owain waved a solitary hand but did not look back.
The doors to the garden open and in walked a company of woman. Britu saw his mother, Queen Severa, at the forefront, followed by Lady Gwawl and a teary-eyed Queen Madge.
The Beast of Caer Baddan Page 44