The Song of Heledd

by Judith Arnopp

  ‘Now, listen to me, girl, and stop being so foolish. You cannot fight this pain; it always wins. You must harness it, embrace it or it will not release your bairn and he will die, trapped inside the womb and take you with him. Breathe with me, child. Breathe in…breathe out…’

  Through a fog of unreality, I watched her draw large blue circles on my belly. I did not understand her magic but as she traced the marks with a bony finger, singing all the while, I felt I was floating and my mind detached itself a little from agonising reality.

  I found my chest rising and falling in unison with hers, felt her gnarled old hands on my flesh, her crooked fingers intimately exploring. I caught my breath and she pierced me with her eye again.

  ‘Breathe in … breathe out…’

  I did as she bid and found it impossible to remain tense when I breathed that way. I felt her fingers poking and prodding and then, a sickening jolt. She stood up, the stench of her petticoat swamping me. ‘There,’ she soothed. ‘He will come now.’

  Ceri held out both hands. ‘Come, you must kneel, hands and knees is the best way.’

  I followed her instruction and she became my lifeline. Her hands on my bare rump encouraging me to gyrate my hips, she hummed a tune and moved her own body with mine so that it became like a grotesque, sensuous act.

  After a while Ffreur crept into the ring of firelight and began to join the humming and I was aware of Gwawr and Hild singing gently as they brought bowls of water and cloths to wrap the babe in.

  My child’s arrival was imminent.

  The pain grew until I felt it had always been a part of me. I was trapped in agony, a purgatory of pain. I thought it would never end but Ceri was inside my mind, directing my thoughts and manipulating my body and so, I somehow knew it would be all right.

  The intensity grew. I felt a huge obstruction as if I needed to shit … had to shit.

  ‘Push, my pretty,’ Ceri murmured like a lover and I obeyed, pushing down into my bowel to shit my baby out. I felt her hands on my belly, rubbing and pushing. I was no longer a princess or even a queen. I was an animal fighting for my life, fighting to give life to my child.

  Ffreur was before me, holding me upright, her breath coming in short gasps as if she were the one in pain. A terrible burning, I forced the thing along the birth canal, felt my skin stretching, tearing. I could not scream, could barely breathe. I panted, eyes wide, kneeling upright in the firelight surrounded by my women.

  ‘That’s it, pant a while, wait and then push with the pain when it comes again.’ Ceri kept up her crooning as she stroked my belly. I maintained eye contact with Ffreur, concentrating hard on the job I had to do. She did not know it but, had she blinked or looked away, I would have been lost. I could not do it without her.

  And then the pain swamped me again. I opened my mouth, spread my legs, released my bowels and pushed like a beast in the field. The child inched reluctantly along the birth passage, with each cramp creeping slowly until I became aware of something lodged between my legs.

  I put down a hand to touch wet, steaming hair, a head pulsing with life. MY SON! And with a cry like wild wolves at midnight, I pushed again and he slithered from my body into Gwarw’s waiting hands. I flopped onto my back and lay my head in Ceri’s stinking lap.

  ‘Heledd. Oh, Heledd.’ Ffreur was crying, her face alight with joy. ‘It is a boy. You have birthed a beautiful little prince.’

  She held him out to me, her face wet and I saw the empurpled, enraged face of my son, his body smeared in birth wax, the purple umbilical cord throbbing and his tiny prick pointing heavenward like a declaration of war.

  Seven

  Cadafael burst unannounced into the chamber and loomed over the bed. The child was tugging at my breast like a small beast. He looked down at us.

  ‘So, this is my son?’ My husband leaned over, his face proud. ‘You have done well, wife.’

  I acknowledged his words with a slight movement of my head. ‘Do you have a preference for a name?’

  Cadafael perched on the coverlet. ‘Cynfeddw,’ he said, as if he had given it much thought. ‘After my father. He was a strong man, just as I would want my son to be.’

  ‘Well, I have no preference, so Cynfeddw it shall be. He is as lusty as a piglet, Lord. We must find a wet nurse right away.’

  ‘As you wish,’ he said, picking up the tiny fist and balancing it on his finger. ‘That is your concern. I will call in to see you both on the morrow.’

  He left, leaving me in peace to rest. I closed my eyes, regretting that it was not Osian I had just presented with a son instead of a man I still barely knew.

  I left it to Gwarw to find the child a nurse and she chose a young girl from the village whose new born had perished three days after his birth. I gave no thought to the fact that she might be suffering anguish for her loss and merely saw her as a quiet, biddable girl with a plentiful supply of nourishment. After she joined my household I only saw Cynfeddw at intervals during the day and as he continued to grow and thrive, I returned to my former duties. During daylight hours I went about my queenly duties, running the household and overseeing my women but, during the night, I escaped reality and dreamed of Osian, glad for once that he could not see me with my thickened waist and great matronly breasts.

  Cadafael on the other hand, made much of his tywysog, his little prince, and visited him every day. Often he sent the nurse away and carried him with him into council to show him off, making himself womanish in his doting. The other lords gathered around, offering parental advice and remarking on the sturdy grip of their new prince.

  Cradled in his father’s arms the child slept soundly, the ceremonial feathers of the King’s cloak tickling his nose as they held council above a sleeping babe. I wondered if the words of the warlords entered his dreams, teaching him the ways of a warrior as he slumbered. Secretly I smiled at the womanish ways of these strident soldiers and the ease with which they were gentled by the presence of a child.

  At this time I was reasonably content. Cadafael did not come to my chamber. He was courteous when we met but asked no more of me. For that I was grateful and showered Angharad with trinkets and coin. The girl and I were tentative friends although when we met, we greeted each other coolly as befits a servant and a queen. I never asked if she relished or hated Cadafael’s attentions and it mattered little to me then. It was a job of work and I assumed she did it well.

  Everyone at the llys knew her for his concubine now. There was no disgrace but I could have wished Cadafael had more concept of discretion. When he beckoned her from her duties to his chamber, although her face burned, she followed him with her head high. Sometimes I pictured him doing to her the things I had suffered and I pitied her, but I quickly learned to push the guilt away and think of other matters. The arrangement worked well until the seventh month after Cynfeddw’s birth.

  I summoned Angharad to my chamber while the King was absent, ridden forth with my brothers to forge an alliance with the Mercian King, Penda. My sewing women were working on a new tunic for me, richly encrusting the hem and cuffs with precious stones. Clothes were one of my few remaining pleasures and this garment promised to be beautiful and I could not wait to wear it.

  I recognised Angharad’s hesitant scratching on the door and put down my needle as Gwarw hurried to show her in. She looked peaked and tired, the tip of her nose red as if she had been weeping. My heart gave a little leap of fear.

  ‘What is the matter, have you displeased him?’

  She sniffed and shook her head. ‘No, Lady, all is well between me and the king. I am ailing, that is all.’

  I put a hand to my pocket and drew out a small bag of coin. ‘This will make you better. The King will be back in a day or two so ensure you get some rest in the meantime, you are relieved of duty until then. He will want you fresh when he returns, not maudlin and ill.’

  I turned to Gwarw who sat in her corner. ‘Where are those gowns Ffreur has outgrown, give them to the girl, she can de
ck herself in those. It might take the king’s mind from her dismal expression.’

  Gwarw came grumbling and handed Angharad the sack.

  ‘You can go now.’ I waved her away with my hand and she made to leave but then hesitated, turned and launched herself at my knee, sobbing. I threw up my hands, alarmed at such a show of emotion while Gwarw groped at her arm and tried to pull her to her feet. ‘What is it?’ I snapped. ‘What are you weeping for?’

  ‘Oh, Lady.’ Her face was tragic, tears diluting her dark eyes. She put her hands to her face, her hair falling forward like a curtain. I watched her back heave for a while before my impatience over-spilled. ‘Well?’

  I looked down upon her, my arms folded, fighting to contain my annoyance. It took her some time to control her tears and speak.

  ‘I carry the King’s child.’ She sobbed so hard that I could barely hear her words but I understood and a cold, dark fear crept into my stomach and lay there like a sickness.

  It was a feeling that did not lift. I had been a fool not to try to prevent this and for the next few months as I watched the slow swelling of Angharad’s belly, dreading to see her face bloat and her ankles puff up, I knew that soon I must face my husband’s return to my bed.

  My own body had long since resumed its shape. My belly was flat again and my ankles trim. Only my breasts remained larger, the nipples brown now instead of pink. They swung gently as I walked, brushing pleasantly against my tunic. In the depths of the night I squeezed them softly and let my thoughts stray to Osian and the way it had been with us, but the thought of resuming intimacy with Cadafael filled me with loathing.

  By August Angharad’s belly strained at her clothing and she rolled rather than walked as she carried out her tasks. As her bulk increased she was in Cadafael’s company less and less and I knew the day would come when he would decide it was time for me to resume my wifely duty. I looked in vain for a likely replacement for Angharad but Cadafael had exclusive tastes and there were none at the llys fair or young enough to tempt him.

  Eight

  I bumped into Cadafael on his way to the stable one morning. It was a fine bright day and I had been tempted from my bower by the sunshine. Cadafael and I had not met for days. He stopped when he saw me and gestured his companions to go on without him. ‘I will catch you up,’ he called after them and turned back to me, his hand on his sword hilt, his bearskin cloak moving a little in the wind, the scent of him wafting toward me, stirring intimate memories that I would rather have forgotten.

  I blinked calmly into his eyes although the dull thudding of my heart was making me nauseous.

  He bowed slightly. ‘Madam? I trust you are well.’

  I dipped my head, saw his eyes come to rest briefly upon my breasts that were fuller, more matronly now. He smiled; a boyish grin that would have been attractive in any other man. ‘I have missed you, wife.’ He placed a hand upon my shoulder and compelled me to walk with him. My head was level with his as we strolled to the edge of the settlement and looked down upon the snaking river to where the skerries bobbed against the jetty. Men were loading and unloading supplies brought by boat from afar and we watched them for a while without interest.

  His hand slid from my shoulder and came to rest on the small of my back where he let it remain. The smell of horse leather and mead wafted across me again, reminding me of Cynddylan who also loved the hunt. He cleared his throat and I turned to look at him but I did not smile or pretend pleasure in his company. Our gaze held, both of us wary of the other. His face was that of a warrior, his black hair blew across his eyes and his dark beard was untamed. It was a strong face and an open one. In fact, he was a handsome man and, not for the first time, I wondered why I could not love him.

  ‘Come on, Cadafael,’ Iestyn called from the stables. ‘The boar won’t wait.’ Cadafael leaned forward and left a kiss on my cheek, flushing like an adolescent.

  ‘I will look in on our son later, Madam and share a cup of mead with you.’ And with a swirl of his cloak he was gone. I watched his upright figure hurry across the enclosure and bit my lip, searching for a way out.

  I had not visited Ceri’s hut before but I knew where it was and, borrowing Gwarw’s cloak, I pulled the hood high over my head and shuffled across the settlement. I hoped that if I stooped and pretended to be lame any who saw me would take me for an old woman.

  The foot-worn path snaked downhill to where the woods clustered in the valley. My feet slipped on the mud and moisture seeped into my slippers and between my toes. It was a passage forged by years of secret nocturnal visits by the women of the llys. Some said that Ceri had once entertained the young men of the settlement but when her youth and looks faded she began to care instead for the health of the women. They came to her for cures for moon-time cramps, for love potions or to be rid of unwanted brats. Women like Ceri were a boon to any settlement.

  I had consulted her several times on trivial things since the birth of Cynfeddw but tonight my need was far from trivial and I was unsure if she could, or would help me at all, for my request was tantamount to treason.

  A cat arched its back and spat at me from the windowsill, the inside of its mouth shining pink against the darkness of its coat. I hissed back and it jumped down, disappearing swiftly into the trees as I scratched at the door.

  There came a shuffling from within and the wooden portal creaked open. Ceri showed me her gums, her wrinkles deepening as she smiled her welcome.

  ‘Come in, my queen, take a seat by my fire.’

  I looked about me, shooed a roosting chicken from a stool and perched before the smoky hearth. There was not enough light to see her face clearly as she shuffled across the room to sit opposite me, the stench of her petticoats making me turn my face away.

  ‘How is the young fellow, does he thrive?’

  I nodded. ‘Yes, yes, he thrives. I have much to thank you for.’

  She grinned in agreement. ‘And the other child, your husband’s bait, does her belly swell?’

  I wondered how she knew. Perhaps Angharad herself visited the old woman. I cursed myself for not having had the foresight to ask for a brew to prevent her pregnancy. I knew such acts were a terrible sin, worse even than the one I planned now and I crossed myself at the thought.

  Ceri made a violent sign.

  ‘I’ll have none of that in here, not in my own home,’ she glared at me. ‘Queen or no Queen. It wasn’t this new god that got your child out safe was it?’

  She held out a cup and I drank from it absentmindedly, the liquid hitting the back of my throat, making tears spring to my eyes. I coughed, spluttered and handed back the cup and she took it from me, cackling with laughter. Then she leaned forward into the firelight and I saw the yellowed wisdom of her eyes, the stringy grey hair lank with grease and crawling things. Could I trust her?

  ‘Of course you can trust me,’ she said, although I had not spoken. ‘I saved your life and that of your babe, didn’t I? And will do again, should you ask it.’

  Suddenly making up my mind I grabbed her hand and drew her close, too close for comfort for she stank like a midden.

  ‘I do need help, Ceri, but you must speak of it to no one or it could mean death for both of us.’

  She looked down her nose.

  ‘I risk death every day; it holds no fear for me. Now, what is it that you want?’

  I licked my lips and quickly made my request before I could change my mind.

  Nine

  It was full dark when he came to me. I had sent Gwarw to bed and dismissed my women so that I was quite alone. He opened the door without knocking and pretending surprise, I swung my legs from the bed and moved toward him.

  ‘Husband,’ my voice was like honey. ‘I had all but given you up.’

  He swept his eyes up and down my body, taking in the gossamer cloth of my nightgown, my free flowing hair. I looked like a wanton and could almost see his pulse quicken, his ardour rising. He removed his sword belt and threw it in the corner. ‘I wil
l pour some mead,’ I said and turned away, watching from the corner of my eye as he took a seat on the cushions close to the hearth.

  Knowing that my breasts were clearly visible through the thin stuff of my gown, I moved into the firelight and stood before him, handing him his drink. Then I knelt beside him and raised my cup to my lips, smiled over the rim like a harlot before tipping back my head and draining my cup. He did the same, pulled me toward him, entwining his fingers in my hair and I closed my eyes, maintained my smile and emitted a small, convincing groan when he began to nuzzle my neck.

  For a while we lay sprawled by the fire. I let him knead my breasts and returned his kisses like a wanton but he did not move me. His beard was rough against my skin and his fingers pinched, his teeth sharp.

  ‘Come,’ he said, his voice hoarse. He dragged me to my feet and led me to the bed. ‘Get that gown off.’

  He began to fumble with his lacings, his breath coming fast while I slid from my kirtle and climbed onto the mattress. When he was naked, my courage flagged a little and I began to fear that Ceri would fail me but, knowing I could not retreat now, I spread myself upon the bed.

  ‘Oh, do hurry, Cadafael,’ I whispered and ran a hand across my own body as if I was impatient for him. Thus encouraged, he straddled me, his broad, hairy chest glistening in the torch light and when he began to stroke me again, grunting at the fullness of my breasts, lingering on the softness of my thigh, I wriggled my hips as if I could not wait. To add a little more drama I let out a small squeak. ‘Cadafael, I want you…’ I lied and opened my eyes full upon him.

  His face was suffused with blood, his furred chest heaving. Our eyes locked and then I slowly let my gaze slide down his body to his prick.