A Novel

by Signe Pike

  The guard did not hear. My brother spoke of power gained, but we shared the same sickness: our hatred of Mungo. I could feel in my body where his deeds had darkened me, too.

  “Then I will wait for you,” I said.

  We pressed our hands together, sealing our vow. Lail looked up, scanning the dull sky for the promise of sun.

  “I must go,” he said, drawing up his hood. “The morning’s half-gone and I have a long day’s ride ahead. But I could not leave without saying farewell.”

  “You are right on that count, for I never would have forgiven you.”

  “Nay. The truth is you will forgive me anything.” He winked and ducked off the porch and into the rain. Giving his horse a swift pat, he pulled himself astride.

  “We are brother and sister, after all,” Lail said. “We must always forgive each other. It is what we must do.”

  The way Lail said it—as though it was not entirely in jest—made me shiver a little to think what his words might foreshadow, and I wrapped my blanket more closely around me.

  At the gate, my brother turned and lifted his hand in farewell. I thought he might have said something, but I couldn’t hear against the sound of the rain, and his face was blurred by the ocean of my tears.

  Inside, I blotted my face with my sleeve, leaning for a moment against the solid wood of the door.

  “And who was that?” Crowan called, sticking her head over the railing. She blinked so expectantly, I couldn’t bear for her to know Lail had come and gone and hadn’t bothered to tell her good-bye. Tomorrow, I thought. I will tell her tomorrow.

  “Nobody. Just a Wisdom Keeper who’d lost his way.”

  “Doesn’t sound very clever for a Wisdom Keeper.” She frowned. “Did he figure out where he belongs?”

  “Yes.” I looked up. “I believe that he did.”

  “Well, then. Are you coming up, or would you see Desdemona old and gray first?” Crowan thumped her little foot impatiently. “Poor thing’s been waiting to ready you!”

  I sighed, too wrung out to say anything more. Upstairs, I traced the teeth of my ivory comb as Desdemona bustled, laying out a woolen dress the color of sorrel and pulling green amber from my jewel chest to match.

  By the time I was ready, I could hear the crowd gathering outside along the road. The rain had let up and a cheer sounded as I followed Elufed onto the porch. Much of Partick had turned out to welcome the high king. I lifted my hand, offering a smile. Somewhere from the midst of the throng, music began. I shifted my weight between my feet, puffed like rising dough above my tight leather shoes. Desdemona looked down.

  “Your feet—they’re so swelled, m’lady. Here, lean on me.”

  “Thank you.” I took her arm gratefully as the low rumble of carts sounded in the distance. At last Tutgual’s retinue came into sight. I spotted Rhian, her golden hair spilling in waves from beneath her cloak. The king rode haughtily on his black mount with Morcant beside him, his eyes glinting with pleasure at the shouts from the crowd. Just beyond them followed Rhydderch, his dark head bowed graciously as the people of Partick caught sight of him and cheered. I could not help but notice how Morcant’s face darkened with envy to see how the people loved his younger brother.

  You should be envious, you horrible monster, I thought. Morcant locked eyes with me then, as if he could somehow read my thoughts. A wet gust swept through the courtyard and I shivered, forcing myself to bow in deference to the king as he swung from his horse and adjusted his sword.

  Gathering my skirts, I greeted Rhydderch with a kiss.

  “You look well.” The fine lines around Rhydderch’s eyes creased with his smile as he embraced me. His beard was damp and smelled of horses.

  “And how is our babe?” he asked.

  “Kicking,” I smiled.

  “Good.”

  He turned and gave a respectful nod to the crowd before offering me his hand and leading me inside, into the warmth.

  • • •

  “Will you not go and sit with the other warriors?” I asked Brodyn. He sat beside me in the great room later that night, tearing rather moodily into his portion of beef.

  “I am in your guard, Languoreth, not the king’s.” He took a deep draft from his cup.

  “But would you like to sit with them?”

  “Ha.” He glanced up, taking in their scarlet cloaks and thick armor. “Would I like to sit with them? My sweet cousin, there isn’t silver enough in all the land.”

  “I thought as much. Then stop your staring. You’re going to cause a fight.”

  A crash sounded, and I looked up to see that a cluster of Tutgual’s soldiers had gotten into a skirmish without Brodyn’s help. They laughed as blood spurted onto the stone from an unlucky warrior’s nose and Brodyn’s dark eyes flashed with disgust.

  “My little cousin’s gone off to the mountains and I’m here, watching these cockwarts wrestle.”

  Of course, I should have known. Brodyn was a true warrior, and here he was, taken from Father’s service and placed with me while Lailoken sought his fortune and his brother, Brant, got to raid and to fight.

  “Your sword was of great use to Father,” I turned to him. “But it is of even more use to me.”

  “My hope is that you will never have need for my sword, and yet I admit I am suffering to use it. I long to fight,” he said.

  I threw him a look of pity. “Cousin, I—”

  A thunderous pounding sounded on the hall table and silenced the room, interrupting us. The king would speak. I looked up as Tutgual smoothed his graying hair and looked out over the crowd of drunken warriors.

  “It has been a long winter,” he said. “Now spring has come, and the blood of the Britons heats with the warming of the land. Soon it will be time for raiding our enemies and claiming our spoils!” A roar went up from his men and Tutgual’s thin lips spread in a smile of satisfaction. He lifted a hand for silence.

  “I have watched you grow fat this winter on my mead and my meat. Beltane nears. Now I would see which of my warriors are yet fit enough to fight. We will have our fire festival here, but in the name of Christ. And one week from this day I will host the races to please him. The champion’s prize will be no less than ten heads of cattle, ten silver pieces, and one-tenth of this season’s spoils.” He raised his silver goblet aloft. “May my best warrior prove himself worthy of honor!”

  The hall thundered with a resounding cheer.

  The horse races. It was like an omen from the Gods themselves. The races lasted the length of the day and the feast would be held in the fields beyond the race path. Our servants would be occupied in cooking and preparing the comforts of camp for Tutgual and his retinue. It would have to be then. If only the babe would wait. There could be no better chance to slip away. I could scarcely believe my luck.

  Across the room Tutgual’s men hawed about this one who loved his stallion too much, or that one who’d gotten himself impaled before the race had even gotten under way. Brodyn watched with a scowl.

  “You say you yearn for a fight, cousin,” I said. “I just might be able to give you one.”

  I leaned in, and told him of Cathan’s warning, of my plan. I could see his eyes spark, but then he shook his head, reaching for his cup.

  “I do not like it, Languoreth. Something in this makes me uneasy. If you must ride out, I must go with you.”

  “But you will be with me, cousin. I’ll be only a moment’s ride ahead. Tutgual’s men who must stay behind will be drunk; we both know this. Please. I only need a few moments’ distraction. You will find me in no time.”

  He ran a hand over his face, considering. “And you say I may beat them as much as I please. So long as they are not dead.”

  I nodded. Brodyn’s white teeth flashed in a smile, but it faded just as quickly.

  “But what of Rhydderch? Surely he will not sanction such a plan. You’ve told me yourself he wishes the child to be born with the monks. Wives have been thrown over for less. You must speak with him
.”

  “How can I speak with him? Rhydderch may care for his babe, but he thinks only of maneuvering. Now more than ever his mind is set on securing a kingdom for this child. No, he will not understand what is at stake.”

  Brodyn leveled his gaze on me. “Do not underestimate what a man may do when his wife goes missing whilst heavy with child.”

  “I tell you, Brodyn, I have gone over it time and again. There is no other way. I will not risk the life of my son.”

  “Very well. I will do it. But I have one condition.”

  “Name it.”

  “You must agree to wait for me beyond the tree line. Do not depart for the boat without me. I will sort Tutgual’s guards, and then I will come for you. If I know Cathan, he will not wish to draw attention; he will travel alone. I must ensure that you both arrive safely to White Isle.”

  “Very well,” I said. “You have my word.”

  I touched my cup to his.

  “Oh, did you hear? The races!” Rhian beamed, her fingers nearly fluttering with excitement as she came to sit beside us. “My father would never let me attend. How I longed to see the horses gallop . . .”

  Her eyes were shining and her fair cheeks flushed with excitement. Brodyn’s dark eyes swept her appreciatively and I stiffened. Goodness, no. Nothing good could come of that.

  “Whatever will you wear?” she wondered.

  “Well, I suppose it doesn’t much matter; I cannot go,” I gestured to my stomach and she blushed.

  “Of course. How foolish of me.”

  “It’s no matter, truly,” I said, hating to dampen her spirit.

  “If you cannot go, then I shall stay with you,” she said. “You’ll be in want of company. The races are a bloody business anyway. Galloping or not, I should be glad for some peace and quiet.”

  “No, Rhian, you mustn’t.” I smiled through my mounting panic. “I’ll be well cared for here. And I’m sure your husband will want you in attendance. I couldn’t bear for you to miss any fun on my account.”

  “Nonsense. I’ll speak to Morcant. He’ll see the sense of it, I’m sure.”

  Yes, he likely will, I thought gloomily, if only so he might whore with other women.

  “So it’s settled, then?” Rhian looked at me expectantly. “We shall spend some time together?”

  “Of course.” I squeezed her hand. “I shall be glad to have your company.”

  She stood with a smile. “Good. Then you will excuse me. Mention of the races has my husband in a fair humor. I’ll speak to him now.”

  Our eyes met. “Very well, but please, Rhian, don’t press him.”

  “Don’t think of it,” she said softly. “I’ve come to know him well enough.”

  I watched as she gathered her skirts and walked away.

  Brodyn drained his cup. “Well, that’s not good. I suppose you will want me to distract her, too. I’ll do it if I must.”

  “Do not jest,” I said firmly. “Any man would be a fool to touch Morcant’s wife. Besides. Rhian needn’t suffer any more heartbreak. She deserves a man who would love her.”

  Brodyn said nothing, but I couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes followed her as she crossed the room.

  • • •

  Later that evening Desdemona stood at my back, helping me undress. I’d tried to rush Crowan off to bed but she’d lingered, chatting about the richness of the stew, and did I see the cloth of Elufed’s gown? How fine it was! At last she yawned and shuffled away. The moment the chamber door was shut, I glanced up, catching Desdemona’s eyes in the mirror.

  “Desdemona. Do you remember our agreement some days ago? What I asked of you?”

  Her face paled ever so slightly but she nodded. “Aye, m’lady.”

  “Good. I need you to get a message to Cathan first thing in the morning. He’ll be at Buckthorn with my father.”

  “As you say. I’ll do it.”

  “What is it?” I turned to her. “Are you frightened? Surely we’ve traveled that way through town hundreds of times before.”

  “ ’Tisn’t that, m’lady. It’s only . . .” She glanced away. “Well, am I right in thinkin’ m’lady doesn’a want me followed?”

  “Followed?” I frowned.

  “There’s a man, ye see. Sent after me! Crowan, too, when we’re off to market. Anyplace, truly, if m’lady’s set us upon it.”

  “What do you mean, a man? A soldier? One of Tutgual’s men?”

  “Aye.”

  “Why haven’t you told me of this?”

  “Beggin’ your pardon, m’lady. I s’pose I didn’a think anything o’ it. I thought they were protectin’ us is all! But now I ken it’s somethin’ secret, I thought you should know.”

  “Elufed,” I muttered. It had to be. First the rifling through my things, and now she was having my servants followed. I rubbed my temples. “Of course. You have told me now and I am grateful. But what am I to do?”

  Desdemona stared at me blankly.

  “Tomorrow is Sunday,” I said, “is it not?”

  “Aye, m’lady.”

  “There will be Christian services beyond the Gathering Place then, won’t there be? They gather to hear Mungo spout his vitriol one day each week.”

  “Aye.” She looked away, suddenly uncomfortable. “I mean, I’m nae certain . . .”

  “Some of the servants go; I’ve seen it. You could accompany them. Elufed’s man will follow, but once the sermon commences you could slip out. You could be back before it ends and none will be the wiser. I realize I am asking much of you,” I said. “But I would not ask it if I did not believe you could do it. Will you do it, Desdemona?”

  Her fingers worked a loose thread on her dull gray frock. “Aye,” she said after a moment. “An’ wha’ will I tell Master Cathan?”

  “Tell him I will meet him beyond the tree line in the forest after the sound of the first horn of the races. He will know what to do. And, Desdemona?” I took her hand in mine. “No one must hear of this. Do you understand? No one.”

  “Aye, m’lady. I swear it.” Desdemona went to my bed and lifted back my coverlet. I watched as she touched the back of her hand to the heated rock at the foot of our bed. “Aye. It’s hot the now,” she said.

  “Desdemona, you’ve been very good to me.” I looked at her as I eased my way beneath the covers. “You must tell me if I’ve upset you,” I pressed. “Is it the Christian service? You must know, it isn’t betraying your gods, Desdemona. You needn’t stay, after all. You needn’t be baptized, for goodness’ sake!”

  I smiled but she didn’t return it, moving instead to blow out the wick of the oil lamp.

  “Nay, m’lady. Do na worry yerself o’r me. Get your rest, then. I’ll see you in the mornin’.”

  CHAPTER 38

  * * *

  The day of the races came cool and clear, a crisp spring breeze rippling the dark glass of the river. The hall had been in a frenzy for weeks, and somehow the babe had not yet dropped. Father was in Partick for the races and had come to see me.

  “Let the lords think I’ve come for the races.” He’d winked. “I’d not want to miss the birth of my daughter’s first child.” My belly was still round and high, and when I gently prodded my opening with my fingers, I was relieved to find it had not yet softened. But it would have to be today. I would not have another chance.

  Rhian leaned against the porch post beside me in a scarlet gown, watching the men mount their horses.

  “They are already in their cups,” she said, casting a nervous glance at her husband. Most of the servants had traveled ahead to be certain the ale was flowing when the king and his retinue arrived. The grooms would soon be departing, too.

  “Then ’tis a pity Morcant isn’t racing,” I murmured. “I should hate for some accident to befall him.”

  Rhian’s eyes widened and she reached for the Christ symbol she wore about her neck. “Pssht! You mustn’t say such things! Someone might hear.”

  I lowered my voice to a whis
per. “They say your god is one of compassion, and yet he lives.”

  She bowed her head quickly to conceal her smile. “Do not jest,” she scolded. “You had best be careful or she will hear. She is always listening.”

  She looked at Elufed, perched gracefully on her dappled horse as her servant arranged the drape of her cloak over the beast’s smooth haunches.

  “So I am not the only one she has set her spies upon.”

  “Spies?” Rhian looked alarmed. “I don’t know about spies, but she did follow me one night when I left my chamber to visit the privy!”

  “You see? That’s precisely what I mean,” I gave a small laugh, wishing I hadn’t said a thing. I pointed. “Look. I think they’re ready to depart at last.”

  The gate clattered open and Rhydderch turned his chestnut mount back toward the hall.

  “Wife! If we should have any happy news, send a rider straightaway,” he called out. His gray eyes, once so shuttered, were so warm and open that it made my stomach swim with sickness. Would he ever look upon me like that again? I forced a smile and lifted my hand, waving them off brightly.

  Soon the courtyard was empty save four men posted at the gate. The race would begin in the wood that bordered the eastern edge of town. I would be riding in the opposite direction. Brodyn was to saddle Fallah, then clear the courtyard of the men posted at the gate, all without being seen. Desdemona stood nearby. She’d been quiet all morning but had assured me she’d reached Cathan with word as I’d planned. There was Crowan to manage and now Rhian. Already Crowan had been watching me as if she could smell something foul on the wind. She jostled Desdemona aside to stand at my hip even now. And all of this was to take place in the instant I heard the first far-off blow of the horn.

  Cathan would be waiting.

  In my chamber I’d packed a satchel with birthing herbs, a clean dress, and soft woven swaddles, bundling the whole packet tightly in one of my traveling cloaks. The hilt of my knife had dug painfully into my stomach as I bent to stash my bundle beneath one of the fleece-lined couches in the great room, the one closest to the door that led to the kitchens. I’d prayed when it came to the knife, I’d have no need of it.