There was silence. Glancing around at his fellow officers, Balyn guessed what they were thinking. Maelgwn hated Ferdic, and he would be appalled at the idea of marrying his enemy's daughter.
"What is it?" Achlen asked, obviously puzzled by their uneasy looks. "I'm offering Maelgwn the Great exactly what he needs to regain control of Gwynedd. Why should he hesitate over the minor matter of a marriage? Does Maelgwn have some other plan to secure his kingdom? Is Ferdic's proposal ill-timed?"
Balyn shook his head and sighed. "Nay, Ferdic's offer is not ill-timed at all. Maelgwn needs the men. He knows what an army of Brigante soldiers would mean for our cause. We could accomplish in one season what otherwise might take years."
"Then why does he hesitate?" Achlen's voice was low, slightly conspiratorial. "I was led to believe that Maelgwn the Great was a shrewd man. If his situation is as you say, he'd be a fool to reject this offer."
"Maelgwn's no fool!" Elwyn answered hotly.
"No, he's not," Balyn agreed. "But he does have certain blind spots, as does any man." He met Achlen's gaze coldly. "Perhaps your king failed to tell you about his past dealings with Maelgwn. Perhaps you are unaware that Ferdic once conspired with Maelgwn's sister, Esylt, to see Maelgwn destroyed."
"I have not heard the story," Achlen answered calmly. "But I'm certain there must be some confusion over Ferdic's intent. What would he have gained by plotting against Maelgwn?"
Balyn sighed. His stomach clenched at the remembrance of that wretched time. "Ferdic's goal wasn't to take Maelgwn's lands, but to usurp his own father, Cunneda, one of Maelgwn's allies. While Esylt plotted with an eastern chieftain named Gywrtheyrn to wrest Gwynedd from Maelgwn, Ferdic used Maelgwn's situation as a means to divert Cunneda from his own treachery." He shook his head slowly. "Maelgwn will always equate Ferdic with the vicious intrigue Esylt used against him. If she had succeeded, Maelgwn would undoubtedly have lost his life, as well as his kingdom. It's little wonder he finds it hard to trust your leader."
The younger of the two auburn-haired Brigante messengers spoke for the first time. "I never knew there was bad blood between Maelgwn and his sister. Esylt always boasted of her relationship to the Dragon when she visited our camp."
"Did she now?" Balyn tried to keep the shock from his voice. Why, after all these years, should anything Esylt did surprise him? "That is odd indeed. I doubt any of us in this room can forget Esylt's betrayal of her brother."
"But these events are many years in the past." Achlen waved his hand dismissingly. "We're talking about the future, Maelgwn's future as ruler of Gwynedd."
"So we are." A small, dark Cymry warrior named Rhys spoke up boldly. "And I, for one, think Maelgwn has dwelt in the past too long. I'm tired of waiting to begin our fight for Gwynedd. If I have to dig any more holes or spend all summer hauling rocks and timber, I'll go mad. I want to go to war. What can it hurt to have these Brigantes fight with us? I think Maelgwn is letting his personal grudges interfere with his judgment."
The Cymry men exchanged glances. Balyn could only meet their eyes pleadingly.
Solemn Gareth broke the silence with his quiet, thoughtful voice. "Despite the troubles in the past, I think Maelgwn will come around eventually. Except for the marriage plans. I'm not sure the king will ever agree to wed again."
"But it's time," Rhys insisted. "Maelgwn can't mourn Aurora forever."
"Ferdic's daughter, Rhiannon, is more than passing fair," Achlen put in. "Indeed, I believe she would be an uncommon beauty if she gave more care to her appearance."
"Enough!" Balyn stood abruptly, determined to end the conversation before the dissension among Maelgwn's men became any more obvious to their visitors. "Maelgwn has decreed that Rhys and I will travel north and talk to Ferdic. If we are satisfied with his intentions, we will come back and do our best to persuade the king to consider Ferdic's proposal more carefully. For now," he scowled at the group gathered, "it's inappropriate for us to second-guess our leader's wishes."
"It's difficult to fight the tide, isn't it?"
Balyn did not answer immediately. He merely watched Maelgwn stare out at the spectacular sunset from where they stood on the watchtower above the gate of the fortress. He had been reluctant to seek out the king after his abrupt departure from the council, but somehow he could not stay away. If Maelgwn wanted to talk about the unexpected message from Ferdic, he intended to be there to listen.
"What do you mean, Maelgwn?"
"If it turns out Ferdic's offer is an honest one, I will not be able to refuse."
"Of course you have a choice. If you think allying yourself with Ferdic is unwise..."
Maelgwn laughed harshly and turned, his features etched with bitterness. "Unwise, Balyn? Of course, it's unwise. But it's also likely the only hope I'll ever have of winning back my country. I've resigned myself to that. Still, it doesn't make my decision any easier. I'll never trust Ferdic. His sly, smug face will always remind me of..."
"Esylt." Balyn lowered his voice, thinking the very word distasteful to utter. He edged closer to Maelgwn. Did he dare probe his friend's painful thoughts? Would discussing things ease Maelgwn's suffering or worsen it?
"One of the Brigantes said an odd thing, after you left the room," Balyn began. "He said Esylt always spoke of you with high regard; he implied she even bragged of her relationship to you."
Maelgwn looked grimly into the gathering dusk. "How like her to play the devoted sister. I swear, I've never known another soul as incapable of honesty as Esylt. It seems to be her very nature to twist the truth. Every time she opens her mouth, some absurd mockery issues forth."
"Unless she meant her words," Balyn suggested hesitantly. "What if Esylt finally regrets her treachery? Mayhap over the years she's come to realize her betrayal of you was a mistake."
"Don't be absurd." Maelgwn's voice was raw, edged with a tremor of anguish. "Esylt never makes mistakes. She always knows exactly what she wants and does whatever she has to do to get it. It would be utterly unlike her to look back and regret anything."
"Perhaps you are right." Balyn took a step back. He had been a fool to think Maelgwn could ever forget... or heal. "She always was a cold-hearted creature, concerned with her own pleasure and no one else's."
"I've never known a more unnatural woman," Maelgwn said. "Every time she got with child, she used some vile herb to kill it in her womb. A woman who cares no more for her own flesh and blood than that surely couldn't love anyone."
"I suspect she had good reasons for aborting her get— she likely never knew who the fathers were. I always remarked that the woman was like a bitch in heat. She's close to two score years now; I wonder who she gets to service her these days."
Maelgwn made a disgusted sound. "I'm sure she still has the wiles to lure some spineless fool to her bed. Over the years, Esylt has entrapped dozens of men in her wicked schemes, not the least of whom was myself in my younger years. I doubt time has stolen all of her venomous charm."
Balyn held his breath, then asked the question which had nagged at him for years. "Do you still regret you didn't have her put to death when you had the chance?"
"Aye. That would have ended things, and perhaps I could have gone on with my life more easily. As it is, I'm never free of her. Even now, she comes back to haunt me—through Ferdic."
Balyn shrank from the suffering in Maelgwn's voice. He had meant to tell Maelgwn about Ferdic's insistence that a royal marriage be part of the bargain, but he dared not broach the subject now. It would be like rubbing salt in Maelgwn's wounds to inform him he must bind himself to Ferdic's daughter in exchange for the warriors he so desperately needed. There would be time to tell Maelgwn about this condition of the alliance later, after the journey to Manau Gotodin. By then, Balyn would have seen the girl for himself. He would have a better feeling for whether Maelgwn might accept her.
Balyn moved toward the watch tower exit. "I must be informing my wife about my journey north."
"I presume you'll be leaving
in the morning?"
"Aye. We're all anxious to have this matter settled."
Maelgwn nodded and looked away.
Balyn climbed down the ladder to the ground. He paused for a moment and watched his king, standing on the tower, his tall form silhouetted against the eerie purple twilight.
Chapter 3
Maelgwn twirled a quill pen impatiently as he waited in his council room. Balyn and Rhys had just returned from Manau Gotodin, and he was anxious to hear their report. Recent events made the alliance with the Brigantes take on new urgency. Rhodderi, a rival chieftain whose lands lay to the west, had killed two of Maelgwn's men during a raid. The loss reminded Maelgwn painfully of the vulnerability of his meager forces, the futility of his plans unless he could recruit more men.
A report from Londinium, a settlement far to the southeast, also disturbed him. It was said the yellow fever had returned to Britain, the same plague that had ravaged the land a few years ago. If the pestilence reached Gwynedd, it would threaten his goal of uniting the country. He had little hope of ruling a country disordered by disease and death.
Balyn and Rhys finally filed in, and Maelgwn suppressed a sigh of relief. "Well, then," he began. "Who will speak?"
Balyn gestured to Rhys. "Tell him," he said firmly. "You understand the Brigante dialect better than me. Tell him what Ferdic proposed."
Rhys shrugged. "It's as Achlen said. Ferdic wants our people to be allies again, to restore the agreement you made with them when his father was alive. He says he will provide soldiers to help you win back your lands in exchange for an agreement to support him and come to his aid if he requests it."
Maelgwn quirked a brow skeptically. "Those are his terms?"
"That's not all."
"What else?"
Balyn and Rhys exchanged wary looks. Balyn finally spoke. "Ferdic wants you to marry his daughter."
"What?"
"He wants to seal the alliance with blood, yours and that of his daughter."
Maelgwn stiffened. He had not expected this. There must be some way to avoid this condition of the agreement.
"The girl?" he asked sharply. "Have you seen her? Is she of marriageable age?"
"Well, she looks very young," Balyn answered.
"But old enough," Rhys added quickly. "I thought her quite sweet and well-favored. It's not as though Ferdic is offering you an undesirable wench."
Maelgwn's head swam at the improbability of it all. Ferdic was not even as old as he. How could the northern chieftain possibly have a grown daughter? "Are you sure she's of Ferdic's blood?" he asked.
"The girl has passed seventeen winters; Ferdic a score and twelve." Rhys spoke quickly, his voice crisp with the authority of a man used to repeating messages word-for-word. "He would have been fifteen when he sired her. What matters is that Ferdic claims her. I kept my ears alert, lest anyone slip and say otherwise, but it seems the girl has lived with Ferdic for some time. Her mother is dead, but Ferdic says the woman was of noble blood."
Maelgwn leaned back heavily in his high-backed Roman chair. He had expected Ferdic to come up with some clever twist to his proposal, but nothing like this. His men would never forgive him if he refused this chance to win back his kingship simply because he was squeamish about wedding again.
"I must think on it," he announced tersely. "You are free to go."
Rhys stood and quickly left the room, but Balyn remained seated, watching him.
"What do you want? I said I would think on it."
Balyn shrugged. "I thought a friendly ear might help your thoughts run smoother."
Maelgwn sighed. "Perhaps. Perhaps I do need to talk about it." He stood abruptly. "Ferdic has me cornered. It's as if he knew what I dread most and has deliberately made me agree to it."
"Do you dislike the thought of marrying that much?"
"Aye, I do."
"Why? I know it was hard losing Aurora, but you must put the past aside sometime. You need an heir, Maelgwn. You care too much about Gwynedd to leave it unprotected after your death."
"You're right, but it doesn't change how I feel. The matter of the marriage isn't all of it. I don't trust Ferdic. What does he have to gain? If he asked for my help, I would have few men to send him. Right now, I need Ferdic more than he needs me. He's not a man to put himself at a disadvantage."
"He spoke of a kinship between the Cymry and the Brigantes. I suspect he hopes to gain a toehold of power here in the south. He may imagine a grandson of his blood ruling west Britain someday. He seemed sincere about regretting the rift between the two of you."
"You think he laments his part in Esylt's wicked plot? I doubt it. His only regret is they didn't succeed."
Balyn hesitated, then blurted out, "Maelgwn, you should know. Esylt is dead. She died of a lung fever last winter."
Maelgwn leaned forward over the chair. He knew his face had lost color, and he did not want Balyn to mistake his shock for grief. It was a surprise, that was all. This sick feeling in his stomach did not mean he mourned Esylt's passing.
"Are you all right?"
"Of course." Maelgwn straightened quickly.
"Perhaps this will help you let go of your anger, to begin again with this new alliance." Balyn spoke in his familiar, cheerful voice. "Esylt's dead, and there's no point dwelling on the unfortunate past. Perhaps Ferdic feels the same. Perhaps he seeks to put the past behind him and start over again."
Maelgwn shook himself. He was a fool to feel anything but relief. Struggling to respond to Balyn's words, he said, "Ferdic hasn't changed. The whoreson was always a schemer. Don't forget he plotted to have his own father killed."
"I'll concede Ferdic is unscrupulous. Still, we need his warriors. We can't wait much longer to make our bid for Gwynedd. We're so well-nigh desperate, we have nothing to lose."
Nothing to lose, Maelgwn thought grimly. Esylt had brought him to this state of desperation. If it had not been for her treachery, he would never have lost Gwynedd.
He forced his thoughts back to the decision at hand. "The girl... you say she is fair to look upon? What is she like?"
"She has red hair, which you would expect in Ferdic's daughter. She is also small, which you would not."
"Small?"
"Aye, a mere slip of a girl she is."
"And her face? What color are her eyes?"
"Some shade of blue, less green than Ferdic's. She does not favor him, except for her hair. Her features are small but regular, her teeth white." Balyn shrugged. "What more can I say? I thought her comely, but who knows what makes a woman pleasing to another man."
Maelgwn inhaled sharply, recalling another decision, another bride. "That's true," he murmured. "None of you—Evrawc, Rhys, Gareth—none of you would have chosen Aurora that day I selected my wife from among Constantine's three daughters. Yet, she was the one I wanted, the one who made my blood run hot."
"But when you wedded Aurora, you were the conqueror," Balyn reminded him. "Now you cannot afford to be so choosy. This Princess Rhiannon is passing fair. You could do much worse."
Maelgwn felt another jolt, another stab of remembered pain. "Rhiannon? Her name is Rhiannon?"
"Aye, I forgot to mention it. It's a Cymry name, is it not?"
Maelgwn nodded. "After the Goddess. It was also my mother's name."
Balyn shrugged. "Odd... but... plenty of children are named after one of the traditional deities. Some think it makes the child lucky."
"Rhiannon." Maelgwn shivered as he spoke the name. "My mother was small as well. I stood taller than her by the age of ten."
Maelgwn followed the track along the edge of the high cliffs above the breaking surf. The sea was only a short walk from the hills surrounding Degannwy, and he often came here to clear his head and think. The sound of the waves usually soothed him, but today his thoughts ran as wild and restless as the roiling gray sea. It was late afternoon. Soon he would have to return to the fort and announce his decision.
He turned to look inland. The s
un shone through the misty air, bathing the distant mountains in a soft, rosy light. The purple-crowned peak of Yr Wyddfa seemed to float in the distance, a faraway jewel, beckoning. An ancient longing washed over him. So many years ago he had been a boy roaming free in those magnificent highlands. So many years...
A sharp pang of regret pierced him. Esylt was dead. He was surprised how strongly the news disturbed him. He had never been able to fathom what went on in his sister's devious mind. Now he would never know. What had made her so cold and evil? She had not been like that when she was young, but as she grew older, her ambition seemed to eat away her soul.
Or had she been born evil, and he was too young to know it? He wondered. There were those who thought evil was passed on from generation to generation, like blue eyes or swarthy skin. Certainly their mother, Rhiannon, had been evil. She had hardly waited for his father's corpse to grow cold before she set her sons at each other's throats like a pack of voracious wolf cubs after a choice piece of meat. It was sickening how little she had cared for his father's dream and how much for her own power. Aye, his mother had been a heartless, wicked woman. Why had the curse not been passed on to him? Or had it? Perhaps his own evil was more subtle, more difficult to detect.
He looked again at the highlands, watching them grow dark as the sun faded. For years he believed he had escaped the curse of his family. As the youngest, he was not drawn into the fighting until he was almost a man. He had time to grow up, to temper his ambition with compassion for his people. Childhood had been easier for him than for his brothers. Esylt was always there to look after him.
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