"Have you never wondered, Rhiannon, who your mother was?"
"I thought I knew, a foreign princess, you always said."
"Aye, a foreign princess she was. A princess of the Cymry."
"The Cymry? But that is Maelgwn's tribe." Rhiannon felt a tingle of foreboding along her spine.
Ferdic's mouth quirked, as if in amusement. "Who was the only woman who cared for you, who saw that you had decent clothes and jewels and were educated as a princess, who near murdered me herself when she found out my bard had violated you? It was Esylt, of course, she was your mother."
Longing overwhelmed Rhiannon... then despair. If she could have chosen anyone in the world to be her mother, it would have been Esylt, the handsome, dark-haired woman who had cherished and loved her. But Esylt was dead, and it was too late for anything except regrets. Except... except... An awful thought gnawed at the edge of her consciousness. Maelgwn!
Rhiannon's veins seemed to run with icewater even as the smoky, humid air of the tent became unbreathable. She turned horrified eyes to Ferdic. There was a thoughtful look on his fevered countenance as he answered her unspoken question.
"Why did I allow you to marry Maelgwn, the man who is your uncle by blood? It was part of the plan, of course— Esylt's plan."
Rhiannon's eyes widened even further. "Esylt's plan?"
Ferdic lifted a wasted hand, then dropped it limply. "Don't look so dismayed, Rhiannon. It's not so close a tie as to be forbidden. I know the Christians might frown upon the practice, but among the Celtic tribes it is customary to mingle royal blood with royal blood. Your kinship is only a little closer than that between cousins, and such marriages are common enough."
"But Esylt and Maelgwn—he hates her!"
"So he does." Ferdic's eyes glittered again, and his cracked lips formed a grotesque smile. "I enjoyed that aspect of the marriage—knowing how Maelgwn would feel if he ever knew the truth." The mockery of a grin faded quickly. "But there were other more obvious advantages as well. While I have no fondness for Maelgwn as a man, he is a strong leader and promises to be a power in Britain for years to come. I liked the thought of having control over a southern king."
Rhiannon was too overcome to speak. Ferdic filled in the silence with his weak, raspy voice. "In the end, it was Esylt's choice. I suppose you were her peace offering to her brother. She wanted you to love him, to make him happy."
Rhiannon swayed on the cushion of skins. Ferdic shifted his own frail body, as if trying to make himself comfortable, and began to tell the story.
"On one of her visits to Catraith, Esylt got herself with child. For some reason, she did not kill it as she was wont to do. She went north and had the babe in secret. Then she sent for me." He smiled the death's mask grin again. "I was very young, and she was quite skilled in bed. It did not take much to convince me to claim the babe. Besides, there was to be a great reward in it."
Rhiannon took a deep breath. She wanted to run from the tent and never hear another word. But she could not. Even if it killed her, she had to know.
Ferdic fixed his heated eyes on hers. "The price of my compliance was Esylt's betrayal of Maelgwn. I was not willing to wait for Cunedda to die so I could be king. I wanted my father out of the way, and my only chance was to have Esylt cause trouble for Maelgwn so he could not come to Cunedda's aid. Esylt did her part most admirably. She conspired with Gwyrtheyrn to overthrow Maelgwn."
Ferdic's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Our plan almost succeeded. If that bitch, Aurora, had not sent Maelgwn a message warning him, he would never have been able to muster his army to defend his kingdom in time. Once Gwynedd fell, it would have been easy for me to defeat my father and take the kingship of Manau Gotodin for myself."
Rhiannon shook her head in agony. "How could she do it? How could Esylt betray her brother? I thought she loved him?"
Ferdic lifted his wasted shoulders awkwardly. "Love, hate—for Esylt, they were always intertwined. She was jealous of her brother; she hated him for being a man. He wielded the power that she, as a woman, would never have. It was only later that she came to regret her betrayal, to realize what she had lost." Ferdic's voice faded; Rhiannon felt a renewal of her panic. A dozen questions whirled in her mind, tormenting her.
"Father... please..." She breathed the words to the sallow, corpselike man beside her.
Ferdic's eyes flickered open. "Father?" He shook his head. "I am not your father. Though, for a time, I thought I might have sired you—certainly I bedded Esylt enough that it was possible. But one time when we were arguing, Esylt told me about the night you were conceived. She took two lovers to bed that night—I wasn't one of them."
Ferdic sighed wearily and continued. "No one ever guessed. You had that red hair, and it was enough. If you had been a boy, I don't think I would have agreed to continue the deception. But a daughter..." He made a careless gesture with his wasted hand. "A daughter hardly matters—as long as she is pretty and obedient, one is as good as another."
"And my real father—did Esylt say who he was?"
"One of the men who bedded Esylt that night was a lusty warrior, big and dark-haired. The other was a young Irish slave. She took him to bed while the soldier watched. It was the boy's first taste of a woman, and Esylt recalled that they laughed at him, at his awkward fumblings."
"Stop," Rhiannon whispered. "I don't want to know anymore." Her stomach threatened to heave itself up.
Ferdic nodded. "I cannot blame you for not wanting to know, but it's easy to guess the rest. Although the Irish slave did not live to be a man, it's clear he would not have been much of one. He's to blame for your small stature."
For a long while, Rhiannon stared into the fire. She thought that Ferdic surely slept, but when she glanced at him, she saw his eyes were half-open, watching her.
"No wonder you never cared for me," she said bitterly. "I was not yours, and I was a bastard... begotten by a slave."
"Ah, Rhiannon, do not fret yourself over who your father was. You must have got some good of him, for you are fair of face and sweet of temper, as a woman should be. As for my loving you... it wouldn't have mattered if you had been my own. Like all men, I wanted sons."
He extended a clawlike hand, as if to touch Rhiannon's trembling form. "If it matters so much, know that Esylt cared for you, likely more than she ever cared for anyone. It ate at her, that she could never claim you as her daughter. When she knew she was ill unto to death, she sent me a message begging me to honor her wishes, to see you married to Maelgwn. She knew he would look after you."
Ferdic's face twisted, as if the pain of his ruined flesh had deepened. "I have honored her wishes, but I would not go to my death with this dread secret upon my conscience." His eyes widened slightly, their jewel-like vividness fading. "I have told you all. Now sit with me as a daughter should."
Stunned beyond thought, Rhiannon reacted instinctively to the plea in Ferdic's voice. She reached out and took the dying man's bony, feverish fingers in her own.
Chapter 16
"Christ save us! What could have happened to her?"
Balyn's toe scuffed restlessly at the new-fallen snow outside the tent where Rhiannon slept. His eyes met Elwyn's. It was getting dark, but the gray twilight filtering through the trees was enough to illuminate the worry on both their faces.
"The gods only know," Elwyn replied. "But it must have been something terrible. What ails Rhiannon goes beyond mere grief over her father's passing. I'll never forget the look on her face when she came out of Ferdic's lodge..." He shuddered.
Balyn's hand came up to scratch at the stubbly beard he was growing for the winter. "They say that sometimes when a dying man's soul passes out of his body, it rushes around the room like a great wind. That would scare me too—if I were to see it."
Elwyn nodded. "And Ferdic died even as Rhiannon sat with him, holding his hand."
Balyn again scraped at the pattern he had made in the snow. "But what will Maelgwn make of Rhiannon's distress? He told u
s to keep her safe... how can we bring her back like this? Pale as a wraith, whispering to herself, her eyes distant and wild... I could make no sense of anything she said, except when she begged us to take her away from Catraith. That's another tangle. Maelgwn told us to find out the most likely contenders for Ferdic's kingship, and we've had no time to do that. Still..." Balyn sighed and his eyes met Elwyn's. "If Maelgwn were here and had seen Rhiannon's face, he would do the same as us. We can always return later to find out the news."
"Another winter trip—Gwenaseth will be beside herself," Elwyn said glumly. "These winter journeys distress her even more than my going on campaign—she says she cannot rest easy with me so far away and the weather so uncertain."
Balyn looked up at the cloudy, sullen sky. "This winter promises to be a fierce one, and I would prefer to wait it out at Degannwy." He flexed his shoulders. "I swear, every inch of my body hurts from sleeping so many nights on the cold ground."
"Let's go to bed then," Elwyn urged wearily. "We have a long way to go tomorrow."
The two men went into the tent and took their places on either side of Rhiannon and the slave woman. Several times in the night, the queen woke them as she moaned and thrashed in the grip of a nightmare. Once she called out the name Esylt, and the two men lifted their heads to stare at each other in the darkness of the tent. They said nothing about it, not then, nor in the morning either.
"You're back? Already?" Maelgwn looked up in surprise as Balyn and Elwyn entered the council room. He was looking over winter supply tallies and had not heard the sentry's call to open the gate.
"Aye, my lord." Elwyn wearily took a seat across from Maelgwn. "Ferdic died the day we arrived, and we did not stay longer than to rest our horses and resupply."
"The decision came that quickly? Who's the new king?"
Balyn shook his head. "It's not decided yet, nor even much discussed. We didn't hurry back because we had news."
"Why then?" Maelgwn asked sharply.
Balyn hesitated, then took the bench next to Elwyn's. "Rhiannon insisted we return."
"Rhiannon insisted?" Maelgwn shoved aside the tally sheets; his blue eyes narrowed. "My wife is not usually one to insist on anything."
"Rhiannon was, is, very distraught. She begged us to take her away from Catraith."
Maelgwn stood. "Rhiannon and her father were hardly close. I don't see how she could be so overwrought with grief that you couldn't stay a few days longer."
"I'm not sure if grief has disordered Rhiannon's mind, but something has," Balyn said. "She does not speak, and her eyes scarcely rest upon anyone with recognition. She was alone with Ferdic when he died. I'm afraid..."
"She is ill?" Maelgwn interrupted with a frown. "I knew it was unwise to send such a delicate woman on a long winter journey.
"I would not say she was ill, at least not in her body. But her mind..."
Maelgwn glared at the two men. "What is it? What are you trying to say?"
Balyn and Elwyn exchanged looks, then Elwyn broke the strained silence. "We think Rhiannon saw Ferdic's spirit leave his body, and the experience has disordered her wits."
"His spirit? You mean his 'fetch'?" Maelgwn grimaced in disapproval. "I don't believe it. I have seen dozens die, and not once have I observed a man's spirit leave his body, at least not the way the bards speak of it."
"I didn't believe it either, at first," Balyn began. "But Elwyn pointed out that Rhiannon has had some training in the magic arts, and perhaps..."
Maelgwn gave Elwyn a cold look. "Where did you hear this?"
"Gwenaseth told me Rhiannon had spent time with a magician and healer who served her people."
"Forget it. Rhiannon is uncomfortable with that part of her life; I don't wish it discussed."
Elwyn gave Maelgwn a puzzled look. "Of course, my lord. I only mention it because I thought it might explain why she was able to see things which ordinary people do not."
Maelgwn struck his fist on the oak table. "This talk of spirits and fetches is worse than slaves' gossip. Give me the facts. What's wrong with Rhiannon?"
Balyn took a deep breath before answering. "When she was led out of Ferdic's lodge, she appeared stunned, unaware of anything around her. The woman put her to bed, and we went to the meeting lodge to see if we could learn anything of Ferdic's successor. A short time later, Rhiannon burst into the lodge, utterly frantic. She begged us to leave for Degannwy immediately. We had a terrible time convincing her to wait until the next day when our horses were rested." Balyn shrugged uncomfortably. "After that, she did not speak at all, except to cry out and rave in her sleep on the journey home. I tell you, Maelgwn, your wife is not herself."
Maelgwn regarded the two men for a moment, then walked toward the door. "I will go to her," he said. "Perhaps Rhiannon can give me an explanation that makes more sense than yours."
Maelgwn walked rapidly across the muddy courtyard; on the way, he met Gwenaseth. "Rhiannon is sleeping," she said, her eyes flashing a warning.
Maelgwn nodded curtly and continued on. In a few strides he reached his chamber and knocked sharply. Hearing no answer, he pushed the door open and entered. The lamp was unlit, and with the hides over the windows to keep out the cold, the room was illuminated by only the faint glow of the hearth. He went quickly to the bed, where he could see Rhiannon's small shape wrapped tightly in the blankets and furs.
She murmured in her sleep as he sat down. He reached out and touched her cheek. It felt cool and soft, exactly as he had remembered. She mumbled something unintelligible as he pulled the blankets back. He ran his hand over her body, feeling the warmth of her beneath her shift. Immediately aroused, he shed his trousers and climbed into bed.
She stirred as he kissed her neck. She smelled of the forest—the clean, sharp scent of pine trees, wind and smoke. His kisses grew more passionate. He felt her awaken, and her body stiffened beside his.
"Rhiannon, my love," he soothed. "It's Maelgwn."
She jerked away and her elbow caught him hard under the ribs. He reached for her again, grappling with her, pulling her down to the bed. His grip tightened as she fought him. "Rhiannon!" he cried. "What is it?"
She struggled frantically against him, but his weight held her pinned to the bed. "Rhiannon, it is all right."
"No!"
Maelgwn eased his hold on Rhiannon, trying to think. Balyn and Elwyn had said something was wrong with his wife, and he had not believed them. But the truth was this—Rhiannon's frail body strained against his; her breathing was so harsh and rapid it made his own breath catch in his throat. He was reminded of the first time he tried to bed his wife, only now her struggle against him was even more desperate, untempered by any sort of reason.
"Rhiannon," he said gently. "Tell me what's happened. Why do you fear me?"
She did not answer, but shook her head violently. Her long hair whipped around, entangling them both. With one hand, Maelgwn pulled it back and gazed into her face. Even by the dim firelight, he could read the anguish on her countenance. She was panting and her body trembled. It seemed as if—but perhaps he imagined it—it seemed she bared her teeth at him.
Abruptly, he released her. His own hands shook. He recognized the look of awful desperation in her eyes. As a boy, he had once come upon a fox trapped in a snare. In its frenzied struggle to escape, the creature tried to gnaw off its own foot. The stark look of terror glimpsed in its eyes had remained with him since.
He got up and backed slowly from the bed. "All right, Rhiannon. I will go away. But you must talk to someone, you must tell someone what has befallen you."
The expression on Rhiannon's face did not change, and even after he had dressed and left the room, Maelgwn could still see it clearly in his mind. Rhiannon looked— he tried to force the thought away but could not—his wife looked as if she had gone mad.
Gwenaseth approached the king's bedchamber briskly. Maelgwn's mind was obviously addled. The queen had seemed rather odd and despondent since returning from the nort
h, but that was normal for a young woman who had journeyed a long distance to watch her only kin pass away. As for Rhiannon turning Maelgwn from her bed— even a wife should be allowed to decline when she felt melancholy and fatigued. Maelgwn had obviously overreacted when he said Rhiannon recoiled from him in dread.
Gwenaseth entered the anteroom outside the king's chamber and prepared to knock. The door was ajar, and she could hear Rhiannon's voice. Gwenaseth pushed the door aside, expecting to find Taffee or one of the servants. Rhiannon was alone. She sat by the fire, dressed only in a shift, staring into the glowing embers that scarcely lit the room. Her arms were wrapped around her body, and she rocked back and forth with an eerie rhythm.
Gwenaseth approached quietly, afraid to startle the young woman. When she was a few paces away, Rhiannon spoke, her voice a low, broken murmur.
"Esylt... oh, my mother! How could you? What shall I do? What shall I do? Oh, Esylt, answer me—tell me what it is I should do!"
"Esylt" and "mother" —the two words collided in Gwenaseth's mind. She sucked in her breath. It made sense, terrible sense. Esylt, who had never been kind or tenderhearted to a soul, had made Rhiannon feel loved. Of course. She was Rhiannon's mother!
"Why did you have me, Mother? Why? Why did you not kill me when I was still inside of you? Oh, save me from this misery; make me die!"
Walk away! Pretend you haven't heard! The thoughts formed in Gwenaseth's mind, but she could not act upon them. The agony in Rhiannon's voice was too heartrending to hear. Someone had to comfort this young woman, to help her with this.
Slowly, deliberately, Gwenaseth went to Rhiannon and put her arms around her. For a moment the smaller woman relaxed against her, then Rhiannon stiffened and raised her face to stare at Gwenaseth with huge, devastated eyes.
"You heard me. You know."
Gwenaseth nodded. "Did Ferdic tell you?"
Rhiannon made a vague gesture of assent.
Gwenaseth took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Rhiannon, truly I am. I didn't mean to listen, but perhaps it's for the best. You need not bear this thing alone."
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