The Song of Heledd

by Judith Arnopp

The old gods had not answered, they seldom did, but neither had the new, to whom I had also prayed. And so, it was there, close by the spring in the small wooden church of the new God, that Ffreur and I were joined with the strangers from Gwynedd.

  The wedding feast was strident and joyful. I painted a smile upon my face and tried to look happy but I could not join the revel. It was not the same for Ffreur. I sat in isolation and watched her as she wove in and out of the throng, her face growing pinker, her hair slipping from its bonds. She was more than a little drunk on mead and the delight of being a bride but she knew little of the marital act that would follow while I, on the other hand, knew too much. With each passing moment, as the time of consummation grew closer, the horror in my heart at sharing such intimacy with Cadafael grew stronger.

  I dreaded being alone with him and tried not to think of the closing of the chamber door, the loosening of clothes, the wrong man touching my body, penetrating my secret places, intruding into my very mind. I felt it would be a betrayal of all the love I had offered Osian and all I had taken. And, more prosaically, I also feared the human indignity of Cadafael’s sweaty passion and had no clue as to how I would suffer it.

  But suffer it I must but I prayed that my greatest fear of all would not come to pass, for the thing I dreaded most of all was that, at the moment of consummation, he would realise that I was no maid and came to him impure.

  If by any means my husband discovered that I was not chaste then the treaty with Cynddylan would be broken and he would cast me off or lock me away. He could have me beaten, leave me to fend for myself, leave me to die. The future security of my people rested on this coming night for if I could not fool my husband into believing that I came to him untouched, the kingdom would be plunged once again into brutal war.

  ‘Come and dance, Heledd!’

  Ffreur broke into my maudlin thoughts. She leaned over the table, her bosom heaving with exertion but I shook my head, smiling gently.

  ‘I have a headache.’

  It was no lie, my temples throbbed with the drumbeat and my neck ached from holding it so erect. In fact, my entire body was racked from the effort of not simply getting up and running away. I felt like a rat in a trap.

  Ffreur plumped into the chair beside me and drank from my cup, her upper lip beaded with perspiration. I envied her such innocent joy. She bit into a piece of mutton and scanned the hall for her new husband who stood with Cynddylan and our brothers at the hearth. She leaned close to me and giggled, waggling her fingers in his direction.

  ‘Iestyn is a fine dancer,’ she laughed. ‘He lifted me so high I thought he would drop me. Where is Cadafael?’

  I shrugged. I did not care so long as he was far from me.

  ‘Don’t you like him?’ She pulled apart a piece of rye bread and tucked it in her cheek.

  ‘I don’t know; we have barely spoken. Do you think it matters in a marriage?’

  ‘What? Liking? Oh yes, I am certain. To live with a man you cannot tolerate would be unendurable. I have never even hoped for love but I think I could find it with Iestyn.’

  I looked at her sideways, feeling churlish for my lack of joy.

  ‘Tonight will tell.’ I teased, forcing myself not to begrudge her special day and I was rewarded when she flushed as pink as a seashell. She fell quiet for a while and then blurted out.

  ‘Do you think it can be as awful as it sounds? The joining, I mean, it can’t be that bad, can it? After all, mother did it … more than once.’

  Our mother had borne many children in her time and so had our father’s second wife. Our brothers numbered twelve, and six of nine sisters were still living. I remembered the happiness both Mother and our step-mother had found in her children and hoped that they had found as much pleasure in my father’s bed. I laughed and pushed at Ffreur’s shoulder.

  ‘Maybe she liked it very well and that is why there are so many of us.’

  Our eyes met before we burst into simultaneous laughter, drawing the attention of the company, and those nearby cast doting smiles in our direction.

  Iestyn put down his cup and came to grab Ffreur’s hand, dragging her back to the dancing. As they moved away I saw him whispering in her ear, lifting her hair to leave a wet kiss upon her neck. She tucked her chin down, her cheek dimpling and I looked away, biting my lip, discomfited and made jealous of her pleasure.

  ‘Lady,’ came a deep, dark voice. ‘I think it’s customary that we dance at our own wedding feast. I am tired of talking war with your brothers. We should share the celebration with Iestyn and Ffreur.’

  Cadafael towered over my seat but when I stood up we were of a height. He grasped my cold fingers in his hot palm as I allowed him to lead me through the steps. He was light of foot and his touch was gentle. He let his arm trail across my waist and then I felt his warm hand move up and rest upon my shoulder before sliding, dry and calloused, into mine. I had never danced with Osian, my true love, although I had longed to do so, and at the thought my legs began to tremble with a desperate longing for my husband to be somebody else.

  As we danced I did not meet Cadafael’s eye, although I knew he sought my attention. I kept my head turned away as if I was relishing the enjoyment of the other revellers and as soon as the music ceased, I pulled away.

  When the dance ended I caught sight of Ffreur embracing her husband, her body tight against his. She threw back her head, baring her throat as she laughed uproariously at something he said. I wondered how many cups of mead she had drunk to make her behave like that and knew that for me to feel the same it would take several barrels.

  Iestyn pulled her close and they kissed, long and luxuriously, exploring each other’s mouths, his hands roaming over her body. Her arms wound about his neck as they stumbled together across the floor toward the door to the ladies bowers. There the couple paused and Iestyn spun her around and raised his arm.

  ‘Good night, people,’ he cried drunkenly and grabbing her hand, dragged my shameless little sister giggling from the hall.

  The company roared with laughter, rolling in their seats, shouting obscenities after the departing couple that would have made a bawd blush. Then they turned back to the business of drinking and the music started up again. With my head down I began to hurry back to my seat but Cadafael grabbed my hand, holding me back.

  ‘My brother has neither patience nor manners it seems but at least his impatience has made it fitting that we retire too.’

  I tried not to shudder when he kissed the side of my mouth before leading me to where Cynddylan and Cynwraith supped with the other Lords of Powys.

  ‘We are tired,’ Cadafael announced, slurring his words, as if trying to appear more casual than he really was. I glanced at him, wondering suddenly if he were as nervous as I. ‘We are off to our bed. We will see you on the morrow, brother.’

  I felt a dart of surprise at the familiar term but Cynddylan merely put down his cup, wiped his hands on his leggings and stood up, kissing me on the forehead.

  ‘Good night, little sister.’

  I accepted his kiss, fighting back tears, wanting to cling to him like an infant and beg him to break the contract and let me stay home. Damn Pengwern and the incessant war treaties. My shaking hand gripped his forearm, my fingers knotting in the fabric of his sleeve but his own grip tightened, silently reminding me of my duty. There was nothing he could do to save me now but as he drew away I thought I saw in the back of his eyes a sudden flash of pity.

  Six

  Braziers burned, warming the chamber and extra furs had been placed upon the bed. Cadafael poured me a drink and I gulped it greedily in desperation, wishing I had taken more mead when I had the chance. The indignity that was to come would be easier if I were drunk.

  He put down his own cup, strolled toward me and lifted my chin, not quite looking me in the eye. I thought he would kiss me and I stood rigid, swallowed deeply and closed my eyes, waiting for his lips but when I opened them again he had moved away.

  He to
ok off his sword and mantle and tossed them into the corner then sat on the bed pulling at his boots. My time with Osian had spoiled me. I had expected poetry and sweet talk but I learned quickly that being bedded by Cadafael would be very different from the gentleness I had known before.

  ‘Come and help me.’

  I hesitated for a moment and then, realising he expected me to act as his body-servant, I crossed the room and knelt at his feet. Slowly, my fingers unused to such tasks, I began to fiddle with the thong until at last it was free. As I slid it free, the stench of his unwashed feet hit me and I stood up breathless and placed his stinking boot by the fire.

  There would be no seduction.

  I stood gazing into the hearth where the flames leapt like tiny orange and yellow sprites performing some fiery ritual, making me want to throw myself in. My heart was beating like a hare’s. I wanted to scream at him to get dressed, didn’t know where to look as this huge, hairy stranger began to remove his leggings. When he was quite naked, he blew out the candles leaving me to manage as best I could in the light of the brazier. I wanted to call for Gwawr to brush my hair and help me change but thought better of it and wriggled from my tunic to crawl beneath the covers in my kirtle.

  That first night as a married woman was by no means pleasant but it was not as bad as I had feared. Cadafael was not Osian and I quickly realised that I had been lucky with my first experience for my husband was not a skilled lover. His hands were cold, his breath rank with mead and there was no delightful kissing, no gentle stroking as there had been with Osian. He fumbled with my shift, wrenching it up to my neck while I shut the memory of Osian away and tried not to weep with humiliation. When he rubbed a large rough skinned hand across my breasts and kneaded my nipples I made no sound and when, to my great astonishment, he rolled me onto my belly and mounted me as if I were one of Cynddylan’s bitches, I still made no sound, but bit down hard upon the bed cover and held my breath.

  While he sweated above me I stared wide-eyed into the dark and longed for him to finish. It was not love making, not as I had known it, it was just a joining of two bodies for the sake of procreation. He did not hurt either my person or my spirit but when he was done and slipped into snores, I felt so empty and so alone that I lay awake for a long time, watching the dawn creep into the chamber.

  In my mind’s eye I saw the future stretched before me. Night after night of Cadafael’s unskilled, untender attention. I had no illusion that I would ever escape this joining. I could only ever be freed from it should either sickness or childbirth take me and I wasn’t really ready for death … not then.

  Part Two

  Cadafael’s Tune

  The mountain, were it still higher

  I will not covet, there to lead my life.

  I did not see Osian again and although my heart ached for him I did not seek him out, not once I was tainted by another’s hand. A few days later Ffreur and I rode away from our childhood home for the Kingdom of Gwynedd where Cadafael ruled. Neither of us had left the safe enclosing arms of Pengwern before and although Ffreur’s tears were soon dried by the novelty of travel and the surprising sights that unfolded before us, I mourned internally for the length of the journey.

  A light misting rain wet us through as we travelled across the fertile lands of Powys, skirting the higher hills and keeping to the windward side of the valley. When we passed through hamlets, the sound of the horses brought the peasants from their dark hovels to stand at the roadside and watch us pass. Some of them were filthy and ragged, too dogged by life to raise a cheer but the young ones called out, waved their arms above their heads while their elders, overawed at our splendour, watched open mouthed as we passed by. Freur and I rode at the head of the cavalcade while Gwawr, too old to straddle a pony, came behind on the back of a produce cart, her bulk slumped like a big, lumpy sack of flour. When we reined in our mounts to see how she was fairing, she grumbled loudly at the indignity and showed Hild the rough edge of her tongue when the girl dared to snigger at her undignified predicament.

  Iestyn constantly returned to his bride’s side, ensuring her every comfort and I felt a twang of envy at Ffruer’s pleasure in his company. She turned her pink face up to him and allowed him to wipe the rain from it with his kerchief, and when we stopped for noonday rest they tiptoed away from the main party to be on their own. Their mutual affection made me hunger all the more for Osian but each mile we travelled put him further and further from me.

  I am sure that Cadafael paid me no thought at all. Things might have been easier between us had he been more attentive so that some sort of relationship might have developed between us but he was curt to the point of rudeness. He kept with the men of his teulu, his hearth troop, discussing the route and the need for more bridges to be built on the mired road between Gwynedd and Pengwern.

  My buttocks were red raw from the saddle and my relief was immense when night began to fall and we rested at the home of one of Cadafael’s retainers. I looked around the rough roofed hall where children stood, runny nosed in the steady rain and felt homesickness take a deeper bite. But once inside, although I found the accommodation to be poor, the fire was hot and I welcomed the steaming bowl of cawl that was thrust into my hand.

  It was a far cry from the luxury I was used to and when I was shown to a makeshift bed in the corner of the hall, I couldn’t quite believe that Cadafael truly expected me to share it with him. But at his grunted instruction I slipped from my tunic and climbed on to the mattress and pulled a fur up to my chin. While my husband made use of my body I lay and listened to others coupling not far away, the sounds of their pleasure illustrating quite clearly the delight that I lacked.

  In the morning we were not offered privacy in which to wash and dress but with Gwarw’s assistance I managed with some dignity. As I cast my sorry gaze about the squalid hall, homesickness bit deeply and it was with some alarm that I realised that life in Gwynedd may not be as gentle as it had been in the famed opulence of Cynddylan’s Hall.

  With stiff limbs we remounted our ponies and the journey began again, this time in watery sunshine. By noon the sun came out surprisingly warm for a winter’s day and I threw off some of my furs to enjoy the warmth on my face and arms. Ffreur trotted up to join me, her hair bouncing prettily on her shoulders.

  ‘What a rough place that was, Heledd. I hope Cadafael’s hall will be more comfortable. Iestyn says it is but you can never tell with men, their idea of comfort is very different to ours. I expect we can send to Cynddylan for some essentials though.’

  The main essential I lacked was Osian and a soft seat. My backside was so sore I expected never to find comfort again but I smiled and murmured that I was sure the King of Gwynedd’s hall would be less spartan than that of his retainers.

  It was one of those infuriating days when it is too hot one minute and chilly the next and, quite suddenly the sun was less warm and a glance at the sky showed that small clouds had clustered before it. I called for my cloak and no sooner had I tied the strings beneath my chin that the rain began again, this time in earnest.

  It fell steadily, soaking our garments, chilling our bones and, what with my sore buttocks and stiff red fingers, and my aching heart, my misery was complete. The rain wet my face, trickled down my cheeks, mingling with my sorrowful tears. Then my nose began to run and I could not find my kerchief and, consumed with misery, I felt my chin wobble and my chest tighten. It was with no small relief when the horses began to strain up the foothills and Iestyn rode back to tell us we approached the track that led to Cadafael’s llys.

  Far up in the sky tiny black birds keened and as we craned our heads back to look at them, Iestyn told us they were eagles but we could not see them clearly for swift dark clouds came down again and swathed them in mist. It was a wild and bleak place and it was easy to see we would be at the mercy of the elements living here. I pulled my hood about my face and put my head down for the last upward haul. To my surprise the sturdy horses, used to the sliding sh
ale and dripping vegetation, made easy work of it. I clung to my mount’s mane, leaning forward in the saddle and once safely through the gate and in the shelter of the courtyard I slipped thankfully to the ground. Without so much as sparing the time to look about me, I followed the party into the warmth of the royal hall.

  Gwawr helped me off with my cloak before pulling off her own and draping them over a chair, complaining loudly as she did so.

  ‘Oh, mercy, mercy. I have been shaken and rattled every step of the way.’ She sat down and eased off her boots, wiggling her fat toes before the fire. I joined her on the bench, stretched out my own feet, the flames a welcome luxury after the long ride.

  ‘I thought I would never be warm and dry again.’

  Ffreur flopped in a seat beside me, unravelling layers of clothing. She emerged pink and glowing, her large eyes strikingly blue. Looking around the hall, she summoned a passing servant for a drink, already confident and happy in her new position. She would have made Cadafael a far better queen than I.

  Servants hurried to bring us refreshments, the fires were stoked and the torches were lit, all at once making the hall more cheerful. A bowl of cawl was thrust into my hand and I began to spoon it into my mouth, the hot liquid warming me from the inside. As I chewed on a succulent piece of mutton I began to feel slightly more cheerful.

  Across the hall I saw Cadafael, who had been besieged by his household steward as soon as we arrived, place his hand on the shoulder of a young girl who nodded to the questions that fell thick and fast upon her. I was surprised to see him so concerned with domesticity, almost as much as I was surprised to see how the household seemed genuinely glad of his return. I scanned the hall, assessing its worth and noting any changes that may be necessary.

  It was not as rich as Cynddylan’s hall. The wall hangings were not so finely woven and the iron fittings were crudely made in comparison. I knew Cadafael was rich, probably richer than my brother but it seemed he lacked his taste for finery. I did not mind the lack for compared with last night’s lodging, at least the hall was warm and comfortable. I would soon rectify any defects.