Rhiannon

by Roberta Gellis

  All night Madog had pondered the question of how without killing Rhiannon he could keep her from uttering the formulae that would perpetuate the curse or freeze and bewitch him with a potent glance of her eyes—some witches could do that, he had heard. The stealthy practices of sneak attacks answered both questions. To silence a guard, one crept up from behind and cast a heavy cloth over his head, pressing it against his mouth. One could then slip a knife between his ribs or even cut his throat under the cloth in complete silence.

  The thought of cutting Rhiannon’s throat sent a thrill of pleasure through Madog, but he soon felt a renewal of the terrible symptoms of the curse—the sickness in his belly, the difficulty in breathing that made him sweat and pant, the pounding heart and growing vertigo. Madog nearly began to weep. If the thought of harming her could do this to him, what would happen when he actually laid hands on her? Trembling, he reached under his bed and drew out the small horn of holy water he had bought from a priest and took a sip. At once he felt much better. Perhaps he would not need to…no, he could not go on buying and drinking holy water all his life. He must do something about Rhiannon.

  Then he realized he would not need to harm her. All he had to do was blindfold and gag Rhiannon, tie her securely, and hide her well in the forest. What happened after that would be up to God. No palpitations or dizziness or sickness followed that thought, and Madog sighed with relief. It would be God’s Will that would make Rhiannon die of hunger and thirst or be eaten by wild beasts or be wetted and chilled and die of fever and affliction of the lungs. He would not have done anything to harm the witch, and her curse would die with her.

  Before dawn, while he waited for the women to come out of Aber, the curse struck Madog again. This onslaught was so fierce that his shaking hands could barely unstopper the horn that held his remedy. When he did manage to swallow some, however, it fortified him so well that he was not stricken with sickness and trembling even when Rhiannon passed into the forest no more than a spear’s throw from him. He followed, closing the distance slowly but steadily, until he was sure that no sound would be heard back in Aber. Then he struck.

  Rhiannon’s reaction was so violent that, in spite of his greater strength, Madog could barely hold her. Too late he realized that to muffle a man’s mouth and stick a knife in him is one thing—a knifing is swift, usually finished before the shock of being seized is over. It is quite another thing to hold, gag, and subdue a strong woman fighting with the ferocity of a wildcat. Madog could do no more than keep his hold on Rhiannon’s mouth and around her waist. It was Rhiannon’s own struggle that defeated her.

  Twisting and turning and lunging ahead to free herself while totally blinded, Rhiannon slipped on the uneven floor of the forest and her foot struck a rock with great force. The pain was so excruciating that her knees buckled. Her final convulsive effort to save herself only resulted in twisting severely the ankle of the foot she had already hurt. Rhiannon fell forward heavily with Madog atop her. The impact of Madog’s weight upon her knocked the breath out of Rhiannon and rendered her nearly unconscious. The heavy cloth covering her head and mouth prevented her from drawing in air freely. Rhiannon swirled down into a smothering blackness in which nothing was of importance except expanding her lungs. She was no longer aware of Madog’s grip, and although she twisted her head feebly in an attempt to free her mouth, she could make no other effort.

  The fall had not been completely an accident. Madog was quite strong enough to hold Rhiannon upright when she stumbled, but he was also experienced enough as a fighter to know what would happen if she fell. Thus, he thrust her forward and threw his full weight upon her while bracing himself for the impact. Her limpness worried him a little. If she had taken serious hurt, would that mean he had caused her death? The curse, however, did not strike and Madog took heart. He drew a thong out of his belt where several hung ready and drew it around her head between her teeth in no time. This gagged her even more effectively than Madog’s hand and fixed the cloth immovably.

  The rest was easy. There was no way Rhiannon could do anything at all while Madog was kneeling with his full weight on her back. As it was, the pain and pressure, which further impeded her breathing, rendered her totally unconscious. Madog wrenched her arms behind her, bound them, and then bound her feet. Assured that Rhiannon was now helpless, he looked around for Mallt and ground his teeth in fury when he realized she had escaped him. Mallt had to die, too, since she could connect him with Rhiannon’s disappearance. She might not intend to betray him, but when the questions started, her courage might easily fail. Madog had intended to thrust a knife into Mallt right here and leave her. If she were found stabbed after Rhiannon was missed, some enemy or band of outlaws skulking in the woods would be blamed for the crimes.

  Then he remembered that Mallt had not come out of Aber with Rhiannon. That had puzzled him, but he could not worry about it. He would get to Mallt later in the day.

  As he swung Rhiannon over his shoulder, however, he realized he really did not have much time to attend to Mallt. He would have to get to her as soon as he returned. Once a hue and cry was raised about Rhiannon, all the women would stay close inside Aber for many days. This meant he would have to dispose of Rhiannon quickly, and he reconsidered a possible hiding place, several miles farther into the forest.

  Madog cursed Mallt viciously while his eyes searched the area immediately around him. There was no hiding place worth the name—only a few stands of bracken where the trees thinned and where one tree had fallen. Muttering angrily, he started off in the direction of the safe hide he knew, but now he kept looking for a suitable spot, and before he had gone a quarter of a mile, he was rewarded.

  Off to the right was a tiny stream. Beside it, a giant tree had fallen many years before. The combination of extra water and light had encouraged the growth of a dense thicket. Madog wormed his way in with great caution, treading on moss that would spring back without recording his footsteps for longer than a few minutes and lifting branches out of the way so that they would not break and mark his trail. Sure enough, on the stream side of the long-dead tree, the earth had been hollowed out.

  Madog set Rhiannon down and began to increase the size of the hollow and deepen it. When he was satisfied with what he had done, he thrust Rhiannon into the space. Then he packed over her the earth and debris he had scraped out of the hollow. Madog took considerable care that she should not smother, for that would be killing her directly. Finally, he restored the outer area as well as he could to its original condition. When he was sure no casual search would detect his work, he eased himself backward out of the thicket, cautiously, erasing the few footprints he had made.

  It was only with difficulty that Madog restrained himself from jumping and skipping with joy on his way back to Aber. As soon as he had had Rhiannon gagged and helpless, perhaps unconscious, he had felt the curse lift away from him. He was sure now that he had done the right thing, sure that as soon as Rhiannon was dead he would be permanently free of her evil influence. He knew she was not dead yet, for he had felt her breathing while he carried her and while he was hiding her away. However, he was reasonably sure she had been severely injured when he fell on her and would die soon; her breathing had been deep at first but had grown shallower and shallower. Now all he had to do was find Mallt, lure her back into the woods, and kill her. Then he would be safe.

  As soon as Madog had enveloped Rhiannon’s head, Mallt had fled away as fast as her feet could carry her. She did not fear Madog, and she would have liked to see him kill Rhiannon, but her own safety was more important. She wanted to be sure that Madog could not counter any threat to betray him she might make—or the actual betrayal, if that became necessary—by involving her. She had already established the first half of her excuse for being out that morning. Now she needed to complete it.

  She ran back down the path Rhiannon and she had followed earlier until she came to the edge of the forest. Following this northward, Mallt came out on a headland abov
e the ocean. When she found a way down to the rocky beach, she grabbed hastily at whatever seaweed came to hand and quickly filled the basket she had brought. At the end of the cove, Mallt discovered she had chosen luckily. She found a broad, easy path to the top of the headland and a well-defined road leading first to a small village of fishermen and from there to Aber. She sang aloud as she walked along, swinging her basket of seaweed. Everything was going just as she had planned, even better than she had planned. The fisherwomen looking out of their huts and working around them would remember her and back up her story.

  Moved by her general good spirits, Mallt resolved to see if she could win Madog more gently than by threats. She could begin easily and in a very flattering way by pretending she admired his courage and resolution in dealing so promptly with Rhiannon. After all, she would have to live with the man after she married him. It would be more comfortable if he accepted the marriage relatively willingly. Also, that would permit her to save her whip for other occasions.

  Chapter Nine

  In a hall used for all the activities of a household, a man cannot sleep very long no matter how great his need. All too soon after Simon and Math had adjusted their individual needs into a harmonious whole, the servants were routed from their pallets to begin the duties of the day. They did not actually demand that the gentlemen on their cots wake, but there was sufficient noise made in rolling and storing the pallets, setting up the trestle tables, and moving benches and other gear that it was soon impossible to sleep. Groaning and cursing, Simon sat up. This disturbed Math, who protested raucously but eventually accepted the situation as inevitable and stalked away to find a quieter place to finish his morning slumbers.

  After a cursory washing, made horrible by having to bend over, Simon slowly put on his clothing and blearily examined the food for breaking the night fast set out on the tables. His reaction to the coarse bread and redolent goat cheese—which he usually enjoyed heartily—made him seize a cup of wine and go as far from the tables as he could. By accident rather than design, although he was already beginning to feel less like a corpse animated by magic, Simon found himself near the door opposite the women’s hall. Memory of the previous morning hastened his recovery. He leaned against the door frame, sipping his wine slowly and wondering whether Rhiannon would return from whatever outing she had taken while he was there.

  Before he tired of waiting, a page summoned him to Llewelyn. By the time their talk was finished, Simon found he had recovered from his overindulgence and he was hungry. There was virtually nothing left on the tables, but Simon grabbed a heel of bread and some cheese right out of the hands of a maidservant. He asked if she had seen Rhiannon, but she said she did not think the lady had returned. This disturbed Simon slightly. Rhiannon had a good appetite and seldom missed a meal.

  Simon grew more and more uneasy as the morning passed. In the hills, Rhiannon would stay out all day, but she did not do that at Court. If he had known where to look, Simon would have sought her, even though he knew she hated to be followed and watched over. As it was, all he could do was idle around near where he could see the entrance to the women’s hall and yet not be seen himself. When Rhiannon returned and he was sure she was safe, he could just slip away before she saw him. Then, at least, his mind would be at ease.

  There was no sign of Rhiannon, but Simon noticed that Madog ap Sior was also idling around the women’s hall. That was a nuisance. Simon tried to think of some way to be rid of the man, who, he was sure, was also waiting for Rhiannon. Before he became desperate, however, Mallt came out of the door. Simon tensed to withdraw. She had made several attempts to approach him previously, but he had avoided her adroitly enough that Rhiannon had not noticed. The last thing he needed was to have Madog telling Rhiannon that he was pursuing Mallt.

  To Simon’s intense relief, Madog approached Mallt and asked her why she had run away. She smiled up at him provocatively and replied, “I had to gather seaweed this morning. And I knew a man as strong and clever as you are would have no trouble dealing with the witch.”

  Dealing with the witch? What witch, Simon wondered? A wave of uneasiness passed through him. He had not intended to listen, since he did not care what Mallt did or to whom she attached herself, but he strained his ears as Madog hushed her sharply and looked over his shoulder to see whether anyone had heard her remarks. That gesture worried Simon deeply because it implied that “the witch” was known and recognized in Llewelyn’s household. Yet there was no such person.

  At that moment Math came out of the women’s hall and hissed at Madog. Instantly, the man launched a terrific kick at the animal. Simon was so amazed that he neither spoke nor moved. Math, no matter how annoying, was a privileged creature because he was Rhiannon’s. Although Math avoided the kick with contemptuous ease, ran in and clawed Madog so that he howled with pain, and was away again before Madog could strike, kick, or grasp him.

  Simon was puzzled. The attack on Math seemed in some way connected with “dealing with the witch”—but if that was so, the witch must be Rhiannon.

  Ridiculous, Simon told himself. No one would dare. It must be some old crone in the fishing village or among the farming folk in the vicinity. The kick at Math could not mean anything more than that an unpleasant person had tried to hurt the cat while his mistress was absent and could not protect him. But Simon did not believe his own reasoning because too many coincidences were piling up: Rhiannon’s extended absence, Mallt’s involvement, and the sudden contempt for Math.

  With some difficulty Simon restrained himself from leaping out and grabbing Madog by the throat. He and Mallt would deny what they had said, and there was no way inside Aber that Simon could squeeze information out of either of them—no, it was Madog alone he needed. Mallt had run away before… Simon swallowed and ground his teeth. Before what? How had Madog “dealt with” the witch? Was Rhiannon dead? Simon put a hand against the wall to steady himself.

  Madog had stopped cursing and rubbing his leg, which showed spots and streaks of blood where Math’s claws had gone in. Mallt had pressed her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing at Math’s revenge, but she was sober when Madog looked at her. She knew a woman did not endear herself to a man by laughing at him, particularly when he had made a fool of himself.

  “I will have to get rid of the familiar, too,” Madog said, looking after Math.

  For an instant the proof that Rhiannon was “the witch” to whom Mallt had referred—a thing Simon had not completely believed despite his instinctive fear—froze him. He would have attacked Madog then, except that Madog said to Mallt that he needed to talk with her privately. Simon stood still and listened. In a private place, he could seize Madog and wring the truth from him where no one would ask questions.

  Mallt nodded and smiled. She expected that Madog wanted to warn her to say nothing or perhaps tell her what he had done, and she agreed wholeheartedly that it would be wise to go where they could both speak freely without fear of being overheard. Madog was not too clever, and she wished to make her terms quite clear. Hints and circumlocutions might go right over his thick head or be too easily misinterpreted.

  “I will meet you inside the trees just opposite the eastern postern,” Madog said and, ignoring Mallt’s angry surprise, walked quickly away toward the front gate. Since no alarm had been raised about Rhiannon, he still had the chance to kill Mallt and leave her where the ground had been disturbed by his capture of Rhiannon, and he had no intention of needing to carry her body farther than necessary.

  Simon cursed under his breath. He could not dash out and follow Madog directly. Mallt would certainly see him and call to him, which would warn Madog. He hated to lose sight of the man, but was reasonably sure Madog would arrive at the place he said he would meet Mallt. Simon glanced at her and noticed that she seemed both surprised and offended, presumably at Madog’s sudden departure. She took a few steps toward the eastern postern, hesitated, and then with a thoughtful expression turned back and went into the women’
s hall.

  With a sigh of thanksgiving, Simon took off to the gate as fast as he could walk. Once through it, he ran like the devil over the cleared land, praying that Madog would not round the stockade until he was out of sight. He hoped Mallt had been so offended that she would not come at all. It would be much easier to deal with Madog if she were not there to screech and run back to Aber to report what was happening.

  In fact, Simon need not have run himself breathless. Mallt was not yet really afraid of Madog, but she had decided she needed an additional weapon against him. After all, she believed he had already killed one woman who threatened him. Admittedly that woman was a witch and to kill her was no crime. The priests all said, Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live. Still, just to be sure that Madog would not think he could remove her from his path also, Mallt had stopped to give her friend Catrin a precis of what had happened and tell her she was meeting Madog in the forest. If she did not return soon, Catrin should raise an alarm.

  Madog was not hurrying to the meeting spot either. He was more interested in covering his tracks than in arriving early, although he moved swiftly for fear Mallt would get tired of waiting. For the sake of the guard at the gate, he walked down the road until the first curve hid him before he stepped into the trees. As soon as he was out of sight of the road altogether, he began to run, keeping within the wooded area but heading for the meeting place as directly as he could.

  The caution of both parties gave Simon more than enough time to find an adequate hiding place in a clump of trees back from the edge of the woods but near enough to see a broad area that could be considered opposite the east postern. It was heavily shadowed among the close-growing trunks, and Simon hoped he would be able either to surprise Madog or, if he were too far away, to challenge him.