by Signe Pike
I looked up angrily. “I am no token.”
“Oh?” Elufed laughed. “And what else might you be?”
I searched but could find no answer. I reached instead for the copper pitcher beside the bed and poured water into a cup.
“It is said the people have to hear you utter nary a word before declaring their love for you,” Elufed said, studying me. “Mungo is much beloved, too, by the people of Strathclyde. Since his arrival the Christian cause has found a new champion. He feeds the hungry. He has more than tripled the church’s numbers. His priests move about the countryside doing great works. He is a pious man who converses with great charm and lives humbly by example. Merchants, traders, and men of stout means shower him with goods and coin.”
“Mungo feeds the hungry with stolen grain,” I said. “He spreads his faith by blood and intimidation. He is a twisted zealot and a powermonger whose web is made of lies. His priests are paid highwaymen who barge into people’s homes and disavow their marriages. And I am certain that any goods in his coffers will only further his own gain.”
Elufed’s gray eyes lit and she smiled. “Yes, all this is correct, too.” She gestured at my cup. “May I? I do have a terrible thirst.”
I passed her my cup. She reached for it gracefully, and as she did, the silky fabric of her robe slid up her arm. A wide silver cuff caught the light, enameled with strange creatures the likes of which I’d never seen. She lowered the cup, her eyes on mine.
“Tell me, Languoreth. Do you think me a Christian?”
I looked at her carefully. I knew the Picts were an ancient and mysterious people. Cathan spoke of wind-tossed islands in the far reaches of the north, with holy temples more ancient than any in our land, with circles of stone that stood three men high, and tombs nestled into the cliffs and the earth, where they worshipped and consulted the bones of their dead. But the new religion had found them, too, or so I thought. Even if this bracelet marked Elufed as a woman of the Old Way, she had spent far too many years at the side of a power-hungry king.
“I would not assume otherwise,” I said, looking away.
“No, of course not.” Elufed smiled and leaned back on her hands. “You know, my husband was not always so sympathetic to the Christian cause. But these merchants and traders and men of wealth—they are the ones who take our goods overseas. And for every good that goes in or out of our ports, this family takes a sharing in tax. In tribute. Our kingdom and our wealth is built upon the merchants’ backs. Wine, silver, salt, spices, tin. Our beautiful fabrics. Trade must continue, at all costs.”
“No,” I said. “Tutgual does not kneel at the altar for trade.”
“Oh?” Her clever eyes sparked with interest.
“In the Christian view, it is the king who is said to be closest to their god. Not the Wisdom Keepers, as my people believe, who have the ear of the Gods and answer to no one, not even a king. Priests may give counsel, but the king has dominion. How much easier it would be to rule with Wisdom Keepers stripped of their power.”
I heard the bitterness in my voice too late and stopped, frightened I’d said too much. But Elufed’s face was as calm as a pool.
“Perhaps it would be easier,” she allowed. “But there are thousands throughout this land who yet honor the Keepers of the Old Way. Our prosperity depends, too, upon our allegiances and our army—our petty kings and chieftains who call up their war bands to take weapons in hand when our kingdom is in danger. Our supply of cattle and grain. So you see, a balance must be struck. Mungo has tipped that balance. My husband will not be pleased.”
“What will Tutgual do?”
Elufed looked at me sharply. “I have not come to give away the high king’s secrets. I only meant to see how you fared.”
She stood and smoothed her skirts. “I go on too long. Rhydderch will soon be here.” She glanced at the door and then turned to me, smiling almost tenderly.
“Here upon Clyde Rock, wives and mothers are replaceable,” she said. “I should hate to see you replaced. You must remember that Tutgual is your family now, and you would do well to please him. No more of this . . . nonsense.”
Her gray eyes met mine and she reached to touch my cheek, murmuring something in the Pictish tongue. “All things heal in time. That’s what my mother once said.” Though her face was smooth, her voice was hollow.
Lailoken had told me Elufed was given to Tutgual quite young. And for a moment I saw a flicker of the little Pictish girl she might once have been; she yet haunted the shadows behind Elufed’s eyes.
Do you think me a Christian?
I looked at the queen as if seeing her for the first time.
What horrors had awaited her as Tutgual’s child bride? She had meant for me to see her silver cuff, I knew. But to what end? It was Elufed who’d been behind my first summons to Clyde Rock. It had been Elufed’s keen eyes that had lighted on me that day of the Gathering, when I was but a girl. Had her wisewomen foreseen the tipping of the balance and sought to place her, just as Cathan and Ariane had sought to place me?
“My queen . . . ,” I began, but a knock sounded at the door and her gray eyes silenced me.
“There is my son.”
“Mother.” Rhydderch seemed surprised to see her. Then I felt his eyes settle on me, heavy with betrayal and disappointment. Perhaps this was his power: a look that could feel worse than any blow. Brodyn stood beyond the door, watching, wary.
“I will leave you,” Elufed said. “I am certain you have much to discuss. You should rest, Lady Languoreth. And take some nourishment. For the babe.”
“Yes. I will.”
My throat went dry as Rhydderch ducked beneath the lintel, then turned. “Brodyn,” he said, “I would speak with my wife.”
Brodyn looked at me, waiting until I nodded. “It’s all right, Brodyn. You may close the door.”
“So be it.” He bowed, but his frown let me know he’d be waiting just outside should I need him.
Rhydderch came to squat beside the bed, his gray eyes studying me. “Are you yet in pain?”
“Nay,” I reached to test the spot, the skin swollen beneath my fingers. “It doesn’t hurt.”
A lie.
He rose and moved to the window, shaking his head. “I have heard of twins who can feel each other’s wounds, but it is the stuff of fireside tales. Tell me, wife, and let it be the truth. Did all happen just as you said?”
“You were with me when I woke in the night. You heard my cry. I had to go to him. Lailoken would have done the same had it been me.”
Rhydderch weighed my words. “And yet you did so without waking me. Creeping from our dwelling like a thief in the night. Lying to the guard.” His voice went quiet. “You could have killed our child.”
I reached instinctively to cradle my stomach. “It was a journey by boat; there can be no danger in that! Far more dangerous was being marched like a prisoner up the high stairs of Clyde Rock. Being struck to the ground by your father. And you let it.” My voice shook with anger. “You, who swore an oath to protect me.”
“Aye,” he said angrily, “but it seems I cannot protect you from yourself.”
I gave a bitter laugh. “You left that parchment for me to discover. You knew something might happen. Did you imagine it would be this?”
Tears rose and I bit my lip to keep them from taking hold. “My brother nearly dead. My family raided, disgraced. And all this by a man your father has declared bishop. When will this madness come to an end? What more must come to pass?”
“I did not imagine Mungo could wreak such violence.” Rhydderch rubbed his jaw in frustration. “I did leave that parchment in sight, but only because I thought to extend you the courtesy of reading your father’s missive yourself. It was not intended as permission to do as you please.”
“How was I to know? You with your guarded mind and your weighted looks. You expect everything, yet you tell me nothing! Well. You must be happy now that my punishment has been measured out.”
&n
bsp; Rhydderch turned to me. “Do you think it pleases me to witness my wife struck down before court when she is with child? To see her treated like a common prisoner?”
“I cannot say. I cannot say what pleases you or does not please you at all. I sleep at your side each night and wake to you each day, and yet it does not seem to me you care overmuch whether I stay or go.”
Rhydderch’s eyes were stormy. “You are gravely mistaken if you assume I do not care.”
“Care,” I said. “And what of love? Does a man like Rhydderch, prince of Strathclyde, feel love for anything but his kingdom? For his own wife? For I have given my life over to you as is expected. And you give me nothing but silence.”
Rhydderch’s shoulders dropped. “Is this what you think? That I am incapable of love?” He lifted his head, and for the first time I saw his hurt.
“Someday, wife, you may be glad of my caution. For I possess it where you haven’t any. I will concede I have been guarded. And now I wonder if I was not right in being so. You flee from our fortress in the middle of the night, carrying my heir, against the wishes of this family. Worse is the danger in which you put yourself. You could have met with raiders. The boat could have capsized in wintry waters. Had you arrived a moment sooner, you could have been beaten or raped by the mob, or given a mark to match your brother’s.”
“And what else should I have done?” I asked defiantly.
Rhydderch looked at me sidelong. “Languoreth, I have trusted you. Is this how you show me where your loyalties lie?”
I thrust the coverlet aside and flew from the bed, my face hot with anger.
“My brother is filleted from temple to chin! I spent the early hours of morning slipping about a chamber slick with his blood. Mungo’s men did this. Tell me. What will be your answer? What will be the answer of your father? Tell me!” I shouted. “Is this how you show me where your loyalties lie?”
“Stop this. Stop this at once!” Rhydderch’s jaw clenched as he caught my wrists. I glared at him, struggling against his grip as he yanked me toward him, pinning my arms against his chest.
“Listen to me. Listen.” He shook me and I stilled. “Do you wish to protect your brother, Languoreth? Do you wish to protect Cathan? Your kin? Yes?” He bent, forcing me to meet his gaze. I pursed my lips but let my body go limp, too exhausted to fight any longer. Rhydderch dropped his hands to his side.
“You would be a fool to think Mungo the most fervent among Christians. For if you think Mungo is fervent in his faith, perhaps you have not yet spoken with my brother, Morcant. Eh?” he said. “Morcant is my elder and more experienced in war. He is stronger. He has no qualms about doing what must be done to protect this kingdom. It appears you believe my position as tanist to be secure. But you and I now stand on a blade’s edge. One slip this way, or one slip that, and we will fail. Then who will protect your people of the Old Way from conversion under the might of Mungo’s mobs? Who will protect the rights of Keepers and freemen alike, their wives and children, when Morcant’s men come calling, seeking to beat the devil out of Strathclyde? Answer me, wife. Do you dislike these ideas? Does such talk frighten you? Answer!”
“Yes,” I said, my voice shaking. “Yes. It frightens me.”
“Good.” His face fell in relief. There was a long moment of silence before he reached carefully to take my hand. Rhydderch’s voice was demanding, but his eyes pleaded.
“You must know that before the battle for my father’s throne is over, I may have to do many things—say many things—that you will not like. But I will do it. For I would not see my people, my wife, or my children live in a kingdom ruled at the tip of Morcant’s sword. You ask if I love you. I love you as much as I know how, in my own way. You ask where my loyalty lies. My loyalty lies with you and with this kingdom. The power I believe in does not favor one way of believing over another. To my mind, all paths lead to God. But these are times unlike any we have seen. If I am to succeed in protecting our people—not just the people of Cadzow or of Partick but all the Britons in this hard-won land—you must never go against me again.”
I blinked. Looked at the floor. “You let him strike me,” I whispered.
“Yes,” Rhydderch said. “And I would do so again, if it would keep you here.”
I went to pull away, but Rhydderch cupped my face in his hands.
“You are my wife. One day, if the fates allow, you will be my queen. But you must act accordingly. I cannot protect you if you run away. You must have faith in me, Languoreth. And I will have faith in you. Next time you will wake me. I have men I trust. Next time you will take them. And from this day forth, you must do all you can to avoid angering my father. At all cost. For without Tutgual’s support, all will fall to ruin. I would not wish the children of an enemy to live in the country where my elder brother might rule. And neither should you.”
His beard brushed my chin as he leaned in to kiss me gently. When he withdrew, his face was shadowed.
“Sit now, and rest. I have spoken with the king. You will stand at my side on the morrow when Mungo and your father gather here to come to terms. But you must swear to me that whatever is done, and whatever is said, you will say nothing.”
“Mungo will come here?” I looked up. “What does Tutgual mean to do?”
“I cannot pretend to know my father’s mind.” He stared at the flames licking against the hearth. “He has become increasingly unpredictable of late. He is no Christian at heart—that much is certain. But I think he was moved to test the limits of its power.”
“So he set Mungo loose on Strathclyde.”
“What are his lords and chieftains to him other than gaming pieces?” Rhydderch bowed his head. “It is much like when he pits one slave against another: he is curious to see who is strong enough to slay whom. In the eyes of my father, Mungo has won. Your father must strike back. We must both of us wait and see what the morrow brings.”
I looked out the window. “Father would slit Mungo’s throat if he could.”
Rhydderch closed his eyes a moment, and I noticed the dark circles of sleeplessness beneath them. “It will be deadly if he does. It could be deadly if he doesn’t. Your father is a strong man with a clever advisor. He will find some way to settle the matter. But enough of this talk.” He straightened and offered a faint smile. “I, too, have been worried for Lailoken. I sent for news; he is arrived at Buckthorn and is resting. We will hear more on his condition tomorrow, I am sure.”
“Thank the Gods.” I let out a breath and sank back on the pillows.
“Now you must rest.” Rhydderch opened the chamber door. “Our lady will have a bath,” he called out, then turned to me. “Dine here tonight. Sleep. In the morning you will be by my side when we return to court. It’s done now. By tomorrow all will be forgotten.”
Forgotten? I nearly said. By whom?
My shame and my fury still burned; my face yet pulsed from Tutgual’s blow. But my body was racked with hunger, so much so that I felt sick. Desdemona entered with a plate of food, and suddenly I could do nothing but try to satiate the sudden and ravenous demand of my body, soaking up the meat’s juices with hunks of warm, crusty bread.
Exhaustion claimed me. I finished eating. I bathed.
I slept until morning, my hand resting protectively upon the curve of my stomach.
CHAPTER 35
* * *
Father and Cathan were late.
All morning, far below Tutgual’s great hall, boat after boat had glided toward the fortress carrying councilmen and merchants, chieftains and lords. They shuffled in with solemn faces, surrendering their weapons to the soldiers standing guard over the armory drop. It brought me some satisfaction that the assembly could not be held in Partick; the risk for riot was far too great. But as the appointed time came and went, Tutgual’s thin lips grew tight and his fingers traced the carvings on his throne in growing agitation. At least my father and Cathan were not alone in their tardiness; there was still no sign of Mungo.
The thought of laying eyes upon the bishop made me sick with rage. Truthfully, I did not know if I could control my emotions. But a score of Tutgual’s roughest men stood waiting, eyes watchful and spears sharp. Conformity, I decided, could make a most useful costume. I had taken great care with my hair. I had applied kohl to my eyes and berry stain to my lips. I would allow neither Mungo nor the king to see how they had affected me with their violence. Perhaps I was learning at the elbow of my husband after all.
Around me the women chattered about a shipment of perfumes that had arrived from Galatia. The blow I had suffered by Tutgual’s hand was nothing compared to the wound dealt my brother. I closed my eyes and tried to follow my connection to Lailoken, searching some inner landscape that traveled across the distance.
There. Was that a pulsing I could feel upon my cheek?
I am with you, brother, I tried to tell him. You are my twin. Always I am with you.
Across the room Elufed was seated behind Tutgual’s throne, her pale fingers resting on her lap as she listened in apparent earnest to Morcant. He had the vulturelike eyes of his father, close-set in a way that pinched his features in perpetual meanness. His face was smug, and though I could not hear him, I knew he was ranting. About the righteousness of Mungo’s cause. The injustice of this accusation. As he glanced up and caught sight of me, his eyes glinted in the light and I looked back unflinching, disgust pooling in my mouth.
“You look lovely.” A timid voice stirred me, and I turned to find that Rhian, Morcant’s young wife, had come to stand at my side.
“As do you.” I smiled in spite of my nerves. Rhian deserved every kindness. She was pretty—fair-haired, with large blue eyes and a bow-shaped mouth. Her frock was tailored perfectly to highlight what curves she possessed on her girlish frame, but she was frail and bruised easily. Perhaps Morcant enjoyed that—that others could see the marks he left on her body. The purple splotch below her elbow, the twin thumbprints now fading yellow above the hollow of her throat. By law Rhian could leave him. I knew she never would.