He moved inside her, a deep rhythm, like the rolling waves of the sea. Ripples of pleasure rocked through both of them. He rubbed his lips in her hair and stroked her breasts, her belly and the softness below, twining his fingers in the hair there. Rhiannon moaned and grasped his forearms, digging her fingernails into his skin. Her body struggled to adjust to the pressure of his shaft entering her from behind, to accept the aching massiveness of him. She lingered between indescribable pleasure and almost-pain. Then came oblivion as Maelgwn pushed her to the ground, pumping into her as if he would beat them both into the earth, into the darkness before life began.
Rhiannon heard her own cry of release—like the scream of a vixen, wild and haunting, ringing through the forest. Then came Maelgwn's triumphant moan as the fire of their love coursed through him like lightning.
Slowly, their spirits returned to the peaceful glen where their bodies lay strewn in a sweaty tangle of limbs. Rhiannon eased herself from beneath Maelgwn. She looked up at the canopy of branches above them and watched the sunlight trickle down in little spangles of light, mellow with the sleepy, ancient gold of fall. If only it could always be like this, their spirits touching, their bodies entwined.
Maelgwn reached out and caressed her face. "Rhiannon, did I hurt you?"
She shook her head.
"It is a kind of lovemaking that a man likes once in a while," he added apologetically. "I usually try to be more gentle."
Rhiannon gazed at him. A nearly unbearable love filled her. How could Maelgwn hurt her when his fierce passion fed her very soul? She could never deny the pure animal urges of his beautiful body. It was the essence of him, the male splendor of him that completed her femaleness and made her whole. Together they made magic, as ancient and timeless as the rocks and the wind.
"If I died now, I would be content," she told him solemnly.
Maelgwn laughed. "You don't wish for much, do you Rhiannon? Why, with any luck, I've planted a babe within you." He patted her flat stomach. "You must carry it and mother it. You have your whole life as a woman ahead of you."
Rhiannon felt a twinge of unease at Maelgwn's practical words. For a time she had forgotten the future... and the past. When their bodies were joined, it did not seem as if there was anything in the world that could come between them. Maelgwn's words brought her sharply back to the present.
"Does it matter so much if I have a baby, now that you have Rhun?" she asked.
"Well, another son would be nice... or a daughter. I would enjoy a little red-haired lass I could spoil and tease." Maelgwn reached out to twist a strand of her hair in his fingers, and his voice grew more serious. "Still, I lost one wife to childbed, and I don't have my heart set on risking you so soon. You are very young, Rhiannon; if you do not conceive right away, it is no matter."
Rhiannon sighed and laid her head upon Maelgwn's chest. He was so good to her. She loved him so much.
Chapter 15
"Maelgwn!" The urgent voice pierced his dreams. "There's a messenger at the gate."
Maelgwn sat up, groaning. Though three days had passed, he was still sore from the hunt. He tossed the blankets over Rhiannon, then eased himself out of bed and moved stiffly across the cold floor to unbolt the door.
"I'm sorry to wake you, my lord." The sentry gestured apologetically as his naked king confronted him. "There's a man at the gate who claims to be a messenger from King Ferdic. I'm reluctant to let him in at such a late hour, but he insists he must speak to you tonight."
"Find Gavran." Maelgwn ordered. "He can vouch for his countryman. If Gavran knows the messenger, bid him in."
The soldier hurried off. Maelgwn found his clothes on the floor and began to dress.
Rhiannon bestirred herself from the warm covers. "What is it?"
"A messenger from Ferdic."
"What can it be?"
Maelgwn shrugged sleepily, then pulled on his boots and left the room.
Rhiannon moved to the edge of the bed and shivered as the warm blankets fell away. She was wide awake now, and she could not shake the feeling that something was wrong. A chill wind blew through one of the windows, making the unfastened window covering flap ominously against the wall. Rhiannon jumped from the bed and hurried to the wall where her gown was hung.
She dressed and went out. In the dark courtyard, she paused and gazed up at the sky. There was a tang of moisture in the air, and her instincts told her a storm was on the way. Her sense of unease intensified. Ferdic would not have sent a messenger unless the matter was grave. The fact that the messenger asked to see Maelgwn and not Gavran implied the business was between the two kings.
Rhiannon's hand shook as she opened the door to the feasting hall. Across the long room, Maelgwn and his men gathered around the fire. Balyn and Elwyn turned at her approach, and Rhiannon was appalled by the pitying look she saw in their eyes.
Maelgwn broke away from the group and advanced toward her. He took her hand and spoke in a gentle voice. "Rhiannon, it's your father. He sent word he is dying."
Rhiannon stared at her husband. She shook her head, as if shaking off an unpleasant dream. "My father has never been sick. He can't be dying."
For a moment, no one spoke, then the weary, begrimed messenger stood and addressed her: "I'm sorry, Princess Rhiannon. There is no doubt; the healers say he will not last past the first hard frost. He took a leg wound this summer, and the blade must have been tainted. Soon after the battle, he began to ail, and now the poison has spread up his thigh."
Rhiannon swayed on her feet. Maelgwn reached out to steady her. She jerked away and gave him a stricken look, then bolted from the hall.
Rhiannon raced back across the courtyard to the bedchamber. Once inside, she fumbled with the heavy door, barring it behind her, then went to the bed and sank down on the mussed covers. She closed her eyes as she heard the sound of heavy footsteps and the rattling of the door.
"Rhiannon? Rhiannon, open the door."
She put her hands to her ears, trying to block out the sound.
"Rhiannon, please! I swear, I will break it down!"
Maelgwn's deep voice was impossible to ignore. At first it was coaxing, then it became more insistent and demanding. The anger she heard finally frightened Rhiannon into obeying him.
She hurried across the room, unbarred the door, then raced back to the bed.
She turned away as Maelgwn approached her. His voice was impatient, frustrated.
"The gods above, Rhiannon, I know it's a shock, but there's no reason for you to act like this. Ferdic never gave a thought for your happiness. He gave you to me as if you were some trinket he'd tired of. I won't have you grieving as if the world has ended because your wretched sire is dying."
Rhiannon tensed even more. She did not need to be reminded how little she meant to her father.
Maelgwn sighed and sat down on the bed. When he spoke, his voice was noticeably softer. "I'm sorry. My anger makes me unkind. Ferdic is your only kin, and it is natural you should care for him. But... don't ever bar the door against me again, Rhiannon. It makes me... beside myself."
She felt him reach out and touch her hair, stroking it. She lifted her head, pulling it away from his caressing fingers. "Please don't touch me. It makes it so much worse... knowing that I must give you up."
Maelgwn's fingers went still. "What are you talking about?"
"The alliance... if Ferdic dies, the alliance will be finished, and you will... you will send me back to Manau Gotodin." Rhiannon took a sharp breath and turned her face away.
Maelgwn made a sound of consternation, and she felt his strong hands upon her. She tried to resist him, but he pulled her onto his lap, cradling her in his arms. "Nah, nah, Rhiannon," he whispered close to her ear. "I would not... could not send you back... even if Ferdic's successor should make war upon me. You are mine now, and I will not give you up... ever."
She refused to believe the tenderness in Maelgwn's voice. She tried to push him away. "But it is ruined now. The Brigan
tes will no longer fight for you, and our marriage will be meaningless."
Maelgwn held her tight as he spoke in a low, solemn voice. "As a blood tie between our peoples, aye, perhaps in that way our marriage will be meaningless, but as a bond between a man and a woman, it has not lost its meaning for me. I tell you again, Rhiannon, you are mine, for better or worse. I will not forsake you because your father has the poor timing to die at the height of his power."
Rhiannon turned to look at her husband. "Why do you hate Ferdic so much?"
"Well..." Maelgwn paused, as if choosing his words carefully. "He has not done right by you, Rhiannon, and that is hard for me to forgive."
"You hate him because of me?" she asked incredulously.
"Obviously, his plotting years ago does not help, but I can overlook that. His treatment of you goes beyond what I can endure. He had a responsibility to protect you, to seek revenge against anyone who hurt you..."
A harsh, angry look crossed his face. For a moment, Rhiannon watched him in puzzlement, then she relaxed into his embrace. She could scarcely believe her good fortune. Despite everything, Maelgwn meant to keep her as his wife. Even more amazing, he hated Ferdic because of her. She rested her head against her husband's broad chest in astonished relief. This was not the moment of reckoning she had feared. Her husband truly cared for her, more than she imagined.
Her contented reverie was broken as Maelgwn shifted her off his lap. "If you are to go to him, I must be making arrangements."
"Go to him?"
"You didn't stay to hear the rest of the message. Ferdic wishes to see you before he dies."
"Me?"
Maelgwn nodded. "Mind... if you do not want to go, it will not matter to me."
Rhiannon took a deep breath to steady her nerves. "He is dying. I can't refuse him. Anyway, I don't hate him as you do. My father... he did the best he could for me. It's only that Ferdic thinks all women are unimportant."
"Perhaps." Maelgwn released her and stood up. "If you do not hold his treatment of you against him, I will try not to either." He moved toward the doorway. "I will be back soon; it should not take long to make arrangements for your journey. You must sleep. I'm sure Balyn will want to leave very early."
"You... you're not coming with us?"
Maelgwn shook his head. "I can't afford to leave my lands unprotected when they're so newly won. You will ride back with Gavran and his men. Balyn and Elwyn will go along to escort you home. You'll be safe with them."
Maelgwn left, and Rhiannon undressed again and crawled under the furs and blankets in the cold bed. She stared up at the ceiling. Maelgwn did not mean to set her aside, despite having the perfect reason to do so. It was hard to believe he was really that pleased to have her as his wife, but it must be true.
Rhiannon chewed her lips thoughtfully. It was dangerous to hope for the future, but she could not seem to help herself.
Despite the late hour, most of Maelgwn's officers were still gathered around the fire talking when he entered the great hall.
"Well," Balyn said, looking up quickly, "Is she going?"
Maelgwn made a pained face. "Aye. As hard as it is for me to understand, Rhiannon seems to care for Ferdic."
"He is her father," Gareth pointed out.
"Aye, and she has apparently not yet realized her misfortune. At any rate, it gives us an opportunity to find out about Ferdic's successor. I saw Gavran here earlier. Did he suggest who it might be?"
Balyn shook his head slowly. "He said Ferdic's sons are too young to even consider, and his brothers... well, there are several and none of them live at Ferdic's camp. Gavran couldn't even begin to guess the most likely contenders."
"Damn!" Maelgwn turned and began to pace. "Of all the ways I thought Ferdic might let me down, this is the most unexpected!"
Balyn cleared his throat. "You think the alliance is finished?"
"I don't know. It depends on who comes to power."
"What about Rhiannon?" Rhys's voice was low and cautious.
Maelgwn turned to him coldly. "If you think I mean to repudiate my marriage because Rhiannon is no longer an asset to me, you are wrong. Ferdic's death changes nothing. I may have married Rhiannon because she brought me a dowry of Brigante warriors, but now that she is mine, I intend to keep her. There is a limit to how much I will let political goals determine who sleeps in my bed."
"Blessed Jesu!" Balyn exclaimed heartily. "That is good news. After Aurora's death, I feared you would never care for a woman again."
Maelgwn's voice grew even frostier. "Balyn, if you are to set off at first light tomorrow, you'd best seek your bed."
"Do you think we will arrive in time?" Elwyn asked as the men filed out of the hall.
"You mean before Ferdic dies?" Maelgwn shook his head. "I don't know. Ferdic is tough and young—if he truly wishes to see his daughter before he goes to the spirit world, he'll have to hang on to life for another week or two."
The ride to Manau Gotodin was cold, wet and miserable. Even Rhiannon, who had grown up in the north, was dismayed by the brutality of the wind in the hills and the icy cold mists rising from the bogs and lowlands. Their pace was further slowed by the Brigante footsoldiers who accompanied them. Finally, anxious lest Ferdic die before they reached Catriath, Rhiannon and her mounted escort went on ahead.
The first few nights, Rhiannon had slept in a tent with Enid, the Irish bodyservant who accompanied her because Taffee could not ride. The two women woke up so cold and exhausted each morning that Elwyn and Balyn finally put aside their embarrassment at lying so close to their king's wife and agreed to share their tent with Rhiannon and the slave woman. Bundled between the two men, they were finally able to get a good night's rest.
As the journey progressed, Rhiannon was grateful for the men's company as well as their warmth. The more she thought on it, the more anxious she became at facing her father on his deathbed. It seemed very odd that he should ask to see her now, after ignoring her all her life. She guessed that Ferdic must have something important to tell her and could not help fearing what it might be. Only her sense of responsibility to her dying sire kept her from calling a halt and asking the men to turn back.
At last, they reached the dense forests of Manau Gotodin. Even half-frozen and coated in silvery frost, certain clearings and streams brought back memories for Rhiannon. Here there would be an abundance of berries in the fall— she had picked some once with Bouda. And over that hill was the sacred grove where Llewenon had taken her that awful night. She shivered a little at the memory, but to her surprise, the anguish was not as intense as she remembered. Somehow time and Maelgwn's tenderness had healed her pain a little.
It was late when they arrived in the valley where Ferdic made his winter camp. In the gray, dreary light, no one spotted them until they were almost to the low wall that surrounded the lodges. Several warriors came out to welcome them and lead them into the encampment. The Brigante men nodded to Rhiannon and exchanged polite, formal greetings with Balyn and Elwyn, but no more was said.
If the subdued manner of the men had not warned her how grave things were for Ferdic, one glance at Narana's face convinced Rhiannon that Ferdic was indeed dying. Her stepmother's eyes were red from weeping and her strong jaw tense with pain. Narana did not speak to Rhiannon but took her arm firmly and led her to Ferdic's lodge.
After the freezing cold, the inside of the lodge was stifling; it reeked of the humid, putrid scent of the sickbed. Ferdic lay on a pallet of sheepskins by the fire, and as Rhiannon neared, she saw his face clearly in the glow of the flames. Despite being prepared for the worst, she gasped involuntarily. Could this wasted creature really be the man she had once held in awe? It was hardly a man at all, but rather, a yellowish, grayish shadow that breathed with a harsh, rasping sound. "Father?"
Ferdic turned to look at her, and Rhiannon felt tears of pity flooding her cheeks. Ferdic had always been lean, but now the bones of his face pushed painfully against his skin. His brilliant, turq
uoise eyes glowed with feverish agony. With his feral mask and blazing eyes, he reminded Rhiannon of a wildcat—cornered but still fighting furiously— facing down his adversary with the last vestige of his strength. His valiant struggle hardly mattered, Rhiannon thought with sinking heart. The enemy that baited him and circled the reeking bed was Death, and sometime within the next few hours or days, Death would surely win.
"Rhiannon." The voice was faint and weak. "I am glad you have come."
"Father... I... let me look at your wound... let me send for someone."
"Nah, nah," Ferdic answered wistfully. "It is too late for that. When the healer finally came from the north, he told me I was dying. Even you should know enough of healing to see I am beyond help."
"I wish..." Rhiannon stopped. What did she wish for, she wondered? She was ashamed to realize that her thoughts were for herself. She wished with all her heart that Ferdic had asked to see her long ago, when she could have offered him love instead of pity.
"The messenger you sent... he said you wanted to speak with me?"
Ferdic glanced at other people in the lodge—Narana, a man dressed in the plain robe of a Learned One, the healer no doubt, and an old woman. "Leave us," he told them abruptly. When they hesitated, his eyes glittered with some of the old fire, and he raised his arm in an impatient gesture.
Narana and the two caretakers filed out. Rhiannon watched them go, as frightened as ever to be alone with her father. What would he say to her? What did he want after all these years?
"Sit." Ferdic gestured to some skins near the bed-place, and Rhiannon hurried to obey him.
For a very long while, Ferdic was silent. Finally he sighed softly. "Once I promised never to tell you these things... but now, the person I promised is dead... and you, you are still alive. You have the right to know the truth."
"What truth is that?"
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