The Stolen Bride

by Tony Hays

  “Please.”

  “If Arthur will agree to support Druce’s claim, then no one will ever know of this dispute. The consilium will appear as one. Druce will become a lord of the consilium, and we will continue to profit from these lands.”

  No one would know until David sent his agents abroad to whisper it on the wind. He did not fool me. David would use any opportunity to undercut Arthur. But the neutral side of my nature, the one that looked at things from a distance, saw that his proposal had merits.

  “You know that Druce killed one of Arthur’s men?”

  David flicked his wool-wrapped hand as if he were swatting away a fly. “Youthful enthusiasm. Besides, you repaid him by killing his nephew. Arthur should consider that debt closed.”

  “I will take your proposal to the Rigotamos, but I can nearly guarantee that he will reject it. He sees the law and justice on Ysbail’s side.”

  “Or,” David taunted me, “does he just fear Ysbadden that much?”

  “Have it as you will. But I will explain your offer to Arthur.”

  David stood then. He stared down at me for a long, long second. “You and I have unfinished business, Malgwyn.”

  “We do,” I agreed pleasantly.

  “Do not try to resolve it in the days ahead.”

  “Nor should you.”

  With a quick nod, he was gone.

  “Do you always talk so openly?” Daron asked, her blue eyes studying me.

  “You are a servus. People always talk openly in front of servi. Though I agree with you that it is a bad habit.” Recent history had taught me that lesson in a very painful way.

  “I am not a servus.” Daron stood and made to leave, but faithful Sulien caught her about the waist and guided her back to her seat.

  “You are a talented man, Sulien. You caught my escaping charge and did not spill a drop of your wine.”

  The old soldier just grinned and sat.

  I reached over and took Daron’s hand in mine. “I will find the people who destroyed your village. I swear it.”

  Moving to release her hand, I felt her tighten her grip. Her eyes were a cold blue then.

  And she narrowed them.

  And I felt a sharp, piercing pain in my hand, and I jerked it back with a yelp.

  The girl had stabbed my hand with a small dagger!

  In the surprise of the moment, she bolted for the door and was gone into the night.

  “Sulien!”

  But before his name had left my lips, the old soldier was up and out the door after her.

  I looked at my hand, but she had just barely pricked it, a small drop of blood marking the spot. Women! I never understood them and never would. Sulien would find her. Of that I was certain. I hoped before she had caused more mischief.

  Bah. I was getting nothing done. I could not even find the solitude I needed to sort out these entangled threads.

  With that in mind, I rose and headed down the lane toward the docks. At that time of night, only a handful of meretrices haunted the byway. In another day and time, I would have joyfully joined them. But I ignored their pleas and moved down until I could hear the waves lapping at the shore.

  I saw a huge boulder on the cliff, overlooking the sea, and climbed upon it. On my right, the timber walls of Doged’s fort rose high, and the glow of torchlights floated above it. The breeze was fresh and strong; I could taste the salt mist on my lips.

  “My lord?”

  I whipped about, my hand diving toward the dagger at my waist. The voice was soft, a woman’s. But I saw no one.

  “Be at ease, my lord. I wish you no harm.”

  “Make yourself known.”

  “It is better that you not know me. I have brought you a message.”

  It was so dark, and I could not see anyone near. “Then deliver your message and begone, ghost or spirit or wraith or whatever you are.”

  “The queen lied to you. She is with child.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I am one of her attendants. I know.”

  “Why did she deny it before the others?”

  “My lady has her reasons. She is confused and frightened. But she has said that she trusts you. She needs your counsel, though she will not admit it.”

  I searched the dark for my visitor but still saw nothing. “You are taking a risk by coming here, telling me this.”

  “Each day of life is about taking risks.”

  “An attendant and a philosopher,” I noted.

  This time, there was no reply. I climbed to my feet and quickly scanned the area.

  Nothing, but the soft sound of lapping waves and the scent of salt in the air.

  My invisible guest was gone.

  So Ysbail had lied. But why? A child would further solidify her claim to the throne. This entire affair was confusing beyond all reason.

  Ysbail’s attitude about her condition had changed in a matter of days. What had changed in the broader picture? I felt, in the pit of my belly, that if I could explain Ysbail’s reversal, I might be able to explain much more. I said a prayer for the gods to protect my unknown informant.

  I looked out at the great sea, which seemed to stretch forever. I knew that Hibernia lay to the northwest but not what, if anything, lay yet further.

  Somewhere, far away, a baby cried.

  Ygerne! Our son! I had forgotten so completely, and I was immediately ashamed. Slamming my hand down on the rock, I let the pain fill my eyes with tears. Blasted Arthur! Blasted consilium!

  Chuckling at myself, at my anger, I rose, intending to seek out Sulien and see if he had corralled our wayward girl. Clambering back up to the lane, I sighed. “Another day ended with nothing done,” my old dad would have said.

  As I reached the lane, I looked up toward Doged’s fort. To my surprise, I saw Sulien and Daron coming toward me.

  But then they stopped, and Sulien’s eyes grew wide.

  And he shouted, “Malgwyn!”

  And all went black.

  * * *

  “By the gods. He should be dead!”

  Only once before had I felt such a tremendous pain in my head, not counting the ones that I brought on myself with too much wine, cervesas, or mead.

  I blinked my eyes open to the flickering glare of a torchlight. For a moment, but just a moment, I thought I had died, for reaching down from the light was my Gwyneth. She had come to take me to the afterlife.

  But then she spoke.

  “Quick, Sulien. He is opening his eyes.” The vision had been a very earthly Daron.

  “Thank the gods!” the soldier exclaimed.

  I tried to sit up, but my stomach nearly revolted. Daron put her hand on my chest.

  “Stay. Let yourself rest.”

  ‘Twas good advice, and I took it. After a moment, I ventured a question. “Who?”

  I posed the question to Sulien, but it was Daron who answered it.

  “Two of the ones who slaughtered my family.”

  “You recognized them?” And then I did sit up, the pain in my head and the nausea in my belly leaving me reeling.

  Daron nodded.

  “What of them?” I turned to Sulien.

  “They turned and ran when I shouted. Good fortune for you, as they both had daggers out to finish you off.”

  “My own fault,” I grumbled. “I was not on my guard. The gods know that in these lands such laziness will end in death.”

  “Did you raise the alarm?”

  Sulien shook his head. “It seems that Doged had no vigiles.”

  “Bah.” The pain in my head and the rumbling of my stomach were passing. “Daron, you are certain that they were of those who attacked your village?”

  The voice that answered was colder than our most bitter winter. “Could you forget the faces of those who slaughtered your family?” she answered, as she dabbed at my head with a bit of rag.

  It had been a silly question, so I simply grunted. “We will never find them now. They have had time to flee the villag
e.” I stopped as the ringing in my head returned. “Did you see just the two?”

  “’Tis but a scalp wound. It looks far worse than it is,” Daron said after a moment.

  Sulien nodded. “We should get you back inside the safety of the fort’s walls.” He looked to Daron. “Both of you.”

  As I climbed to my feet, I realized that the attempt on my life told me one thing: Someone was afraid that I was getting close. But close to what?

  “Thank you, Sulien.” He was proving a good and loyal soldier, and Arthur taught me long ago that praise should always be given where due.

  The old soldier turned and looked at me. In the faint light of the torch, I thought I saw moisture grow in the deep crevices of the corners of his eyes. “You do not remember, do you?”

  The older I got, the more confused I seemed always to be. This time was no different. I shook my head.

  Sulien sighed. “At the River Tribuit, when you received that,” and he pointed at my half arm, “you had just saved one of Arthur’s men, who was about to be killed by a Saxon sword. You ran the Saxon through, extending your arm fully. As you tried to withdraw your sword, it hung on the Saxon’s ribs for just a second.”

  “Aye.” I had done my best to fling those memories away, but Sulien spoke truly.

  “And it was that second that allowed yet another Saxon to cleave your arm from your body.”

  “Aye.”

  “I am the soldier you saved, and I owe you a debt that these few days of service are but faint repayment for.”

  “Sulien…”

  He held up a hand. “I have a son in Ynys-witrin, by my woman there. His name is Malgwyn ap Sulien, for without you, he would not exist.”

  I could not speak. Daron simply looked back and forth, from one to the other. Finally, I nodded quickly and began trudging up the lane toward the fort.

  * * *

  I did not know how to respond to Sulien’s revelation. Aye, I was not even certain that I should. These were the thoughts that crowded my mind as I tried to settle into the simple hut that Ysbail had allotted us. Arthur had commandeered a two-story house closer to Doged’s hall, but this hovel suited me. And with the certain knowledge that I had enemies within arm’s reach, I preferred a more modest retreat.

  As I unrolled my furs to make my bed, I noticed that Sulien was not doing likewise.

  “You’ll find furs are more comfortable than the earth.”

  He shook his head. “I will not sleep tonight. I will be outside, watching the door. Your attackers may try again.”

  “Here? Inside these walls?”

  Sulien smiled. “I think that I do not wish to wager your life on the fierce edge of Doged’s soldiers.”

  We both chuckled at that.

  “Sleep well, Malgwyn. No one shall pass.”

  In the far corner of the room, Daron had already climbed among her furs and lay facing the wall. I could not imagine what she had gone through in the last few days, not truly. I had entered my village long after Gwyneth and the others had been killed. I did not have to watch helplessly as they died.

  Sleep did not come easily that night. I do not remember ever feeling so hopeless, so overwhelmed. When I did finally drift off, it was to the visitations of a hundred Dogeds, all laughing at me.

  * * *

  Deep in the night, the dream changed, from wrinkled and creaking Dogeds to a lusty fantasy of Gwyneth and Ygerne. I awoke suddenly and found that I was greatly aroused.

  And someone was caressing me. At first I thought it Gwyneth, but as I grew more alert I jerked back.

  It was Daron.

  She was naked. I did not have to see her; I could feel her.

  “No! Daron!”

  By the rustling of the furs I could tell that she was distancing herself.

  “Am I not attractive enough?”

  “Daron, you are a beautiful young woman, but I already have a mate.”

  “So? What of it? What man in this day doesn’t take his pleasure anywhere he can?”

  She was right. And in another time I would have eagerly taken her to my bed. But two things stopped me. Ygerne, at even that moment, was bearing my child. And I knew how deeply my brother’s wanderings had hurt her. No, my heart would not let me do what my body would relish. I shook my head. “Not this man.”

  “You are a strange one,” Daron said after a moment. I feared she would run away again, but, instead, she retreated to her corner, covered herself with furs, and spoke no more.

  * * *

  When morning came, I still felt the throb in my head from the night before. Unfortunately, it came without the memories of drinking and carousing that normally caused such pain. I threw back my furs and my heart leaped.

  Daron was gone.

  But as I scrambled to my feet, the creaky door swung open and she stepped back in, bearing a platter of bread and cheese and a pitcher of milk. She set them down on the one table and sat in her corner, braiding her hair.

  “Daron, last night…”

  “It is of no matter,” she said without looking at me. “Eat. You have work to do. And the sooner you do it, the sooner I can continue with my life.”

  Duly chastised, I broke my fast and went to find Arthur, leaving Sulien to watch over Daron.

  * * *

  “I was set upon last night, by some of the same rogues that sacked that village.”

  “Are you certain?” Arthur narrowed his eyes as I made my report.

  I tilted my head forward and parted my hair so he could see where the blow had landed.

  His stubby fingers fumbled at my hair. “’Tis hardly a scratch.”

  “Daron identified the men as among those who attacked her village.” I did not argue with his judgment on my head.

  “Did Sulien not account for any of them? Odd. He’s a strong warrior.”

  “He was protecting Daron.” I did not choose to share that Daron had run away and Sulien was retrieving her.

  Arthur’s eyebrows knit together. “Do you think David was serious in his proposal?”

  “I think David was planting a seed to grow a delay in this matter.” I paused. “But I cannot say without doubt that he is not serious. It would be unlike him to risk such an open break unless he was assured of the outcome.

  “Let us be frank. No matter how Petrocus decides, Cilydd and Druce have some law and tradition backing them. We both know that Doged made this match simply to secure an heir. Ysbadden champions his sister’s claims for no other reason than to ease his own path in annexing them to his. If it comes to open warfare, I foresee Ysbadden allying with Druce, and Cilydd striking a bargain with them both.”

  “And David?”

  “As is his wont, he will avoid committing himself until he can be certain of victory. Do not doubt that he has his scouts out even now, watching the roads for signs of reinforcements.” I stopped and glanced out the window. Roman glass was wavy, blurring detail, but the gray clouds gathering toward Tyntagel were easy enough to discern. “A fierce wind is blowing from the north. It may be the weather is causing his soldiers problems on their journey.”

  Bedevere nodded. “A rider came in from Tyntagel early this morning and reported a northern gale blowing down the coast. It is moving slow and will be here before nightfall.”

  “What have you learned about Doged’s death?” Arthur asked.

  I sighed. I knew that he would ask this question soon. “Very little. I still believe Mordred innocent. Unfortunately, to believe Mordred innocent also means believing the Saxons innocent, and they are innocent of nothing. But whoever killed Doged was most likely the man who hurried past Mordred.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he was the only one with reason to kill the guard he had bribed. Bedevere observed that the manner of Doged’s wounds indicated that it was a sudden act, that a friendly or at least neutral discussion had turned murderous. I agree. And that would imply, but not prove, that Doged knew his killer. That he did not raise any alarm supports that
position as well. It was most likely Druce or Cilydd or one of Doged’s lords.”

  “Why so?” Arthur asked.

  “Doged would not have been completely on his guard with someone as familiar as them. And who else has the resources to bribe the guard and would want or need to see Doged? Or,” and I hesitated for a second, “the killer went in disguised as Doged.”

  I braced for an explosion, but Arthur just frowned and nodded. “It is possible,” he grumbled.

  Silence reigned for a moment.

  “Arthur, you know that the Saxon who threatened to kill Mariam is here?”

  Those big brown eyes of his narrowed. “Aye. I know as well that he is part of the embassy that has been granted Ysbail’s hospitality. And if someone were to violate that grant, there is only one punishment. You know these things too.”

  I did not answer him; I simply brushed the hair from my face and met his stare with one of my own.

  Though no words were spoken, we understood each other.

  Arthur turned to Bedevere. “Send a patrol to the north to seek any sign of David’s men.” Tugging on the end of his mustache, he paused. “No word of Kay and Merlin?”

  His Master of Horse shook his head. “And I am worried. The distance was not that great, and Malgwyn’s directions were specific.”

  “No word from Ider?” I feared for my young friend.

  “None.”

  “Calm yourself, Malgwyn,” Arthur urged. I had not realized it, but I was actually bouncing slightly, so great was my concern. “Bedevere, take a patrol to Castellum Dinas and make contact with Ider there. As soon as you reach him, speed a rider back here with a report. If all is well, return with the rider. If not, send word with him, take command of the gathered soldiers, and resolve whatever problem exists there.”

  “Yes, Rigotamos.” Bedevere gave him the salute and turned to leave.

  “And Bedevere?”

  “Whatever else has happened, find Merlin.”

  Arthur turned to me once more. “What else have you to tell me?”

  “How did you know there was aught else to report?”

  The grin that grew on Arthur’s face stretched his mustache. “I am learning to read you as well as you read the signs left in the wake of these affairs. Now, speak.”

  “One of Ysbail’s servants came to me last night before I was attacked. She says that our lady is indeed with child.”