Conla’s dark eyes probed Dessia, making her uneasy. He turned to Bridei. “The birth of the babe—if there is one—will not happen soon. You could stay here until spring, when travel is less perilous, and still reach your homeland before Lady Dessia’s time of travail. For that matter, we have several midwives here Ath Cliath.” He looked at Dessia again. “I’m certain Lady Dessia will find the accommodations here very comfortable and secure. There’s no good reason you shouldn’t remain in my household for a time.”
“You’re right, of course,” Bridei responded.
Dessia went rigid. The thought of being trapped in Conla’s household made her almost as panicked as when Tiernan O’Bannon took her captive. But, clearly, she couldn’t reveal her feelings to Conla. He might take offense, and then there was no telling what he would do.
Bridei and Conla discussed the song he’d sung. Then Bridei asked some questions about the harp—where it was from and who might have made it. Dessia listened impatiently. All she wanted to do was get out of this place. At last, Conla called for a servant to take them to a bedchamber. As Bridei carefully set the harp on the table, Conla said, “Why don’t you keep it, as my payment to you for your performance this night.”
“I hardly think one song merits such largess,” responded Bridei.
“I’m a wealthy man,” said Conla. “If you choose to remain here as my bard, you might be surprised what riches you could acquire.”
Bridei bowed to Conla, then covered the harp with the cloth bag and cradled it in his arms.
He and Dessia followed the servant to a corridor that ran along the back of the hall. Walking along it, they passed several elaborately carved oak doors. The servant stopped in front of one of them and bowed. “Your sleeping chambers, master bard.”
Bridei opened the door and gestured for Dessia to enter. Stepping into the chamber, she glanced around, staring in awe. The good-sized room was furnished with every luxury Dessia had ever encountered, as well as some she’d never see before. There was a large bed with a fur coverlet and a thick crimson rug on the floor. Fine woven fabrics covered the walls. On a table by the bed sat a massive beeswax candle in an elaborate silver holder, as well as a gold ewer and two glass beakers. And to make certain of their comfort, there was a dog-shaped brass brazier near the bed, the glowing coals in the beast’s mouth sending delicious warmth into the room.
“It’s . . . incredible,” Dessia said as Bridei closed the door. She went to the table and examined one of the shimmering glass beakers, then turned to face Bridei. “I’ve only encountered glass once before, when the traders brought a set of drinking cups packed in a box of straw. They didn’t even take them out to show me, knowing I would never purchase such impractical and extravagant goods.”
“Aye, Conla is wealthy,” said Bridei. “I’m sure if we stayed here, we would experience every comfort his wealth can buy.”
Dessia drew near and gazed at him pleadingly. “But I don’t want to stay here. Conla frightens me.”
Bridei nodded. “He frightens me as well. If I agree to be his bard, he’ll quickly come to see me as one of his possessions. He’ll think he owns me.”
“We have to find a way to leave,” said Dessia.
“I know. And we must do so tonight.”
“Tonight?”
“Aye. I know you must be very weary, but that’s what Conla’s counting on. He won’t set a guard on us tonight. But after this . . . he might. ”
Dessia sighed. Every muscle in her body ached. She was so fatigued she felt as if she could fall asleep standing up. Regretfully, she glanced at the bed. Then she straightened her spine and faced Bridei resolutely. “I’m willing to do whatever is necessary to make certain we don’t get trapped here.”
“The trick will be to get out of the hillfort without arousing suspicion. We’ll have to leave separately and each of us give our own reason for departing.” He rubbed his stubbled jaw, looking thoughtful. Glancing at Dessia, he said, “I know what we can do.”
“What’s your plan?”
“I’ll tell the guard at the gate you aren’t feeling well and I’m going to one of the local healers to fetch a tinsane to settle your stomach. Then, a short while later, you’ll go to the gate and ask to be let out. You'll say you’re feeling better and don’t want me to go to the trouble of fetching the medicine tonight. Tell the guard you hope to catch up with me before I go all the way to the healer’s house.”
“I’ll do my best,” Dessia said. She raised her gaze to Bridei’s, “But I do worry the guard will think it too dangerous for me to be outside the hillfort alone at night, and insist I stay here until you return.”
Bridei nodded. “It might be a problem. But I can think of no better plan.” He motioned. “If you succeed in getting out, meet me at the bottom of the hill, in front of the metalsmith’s shop we passed. If you don’t come after a candle hour or so, I’ll assume you weren’t allowed to leave the hillfort. I’ll come back and pretend I’ve fetched the tinsane. That way we won’t arouse Conla’s suspicions, and we might be able to get away another time.” He gave her a tender look, then leaned down and kissed her. “’Twill be all right, I promise,” he said. “The Goddess has gotten us this far. I don’t believe she’ll forsake us now.”
Dessia tried to smile hopefully, but her insides were clenched with worry.
After Bridei left, time seemed to pass with painful slowness. Dessia paced back and forth on the thick, soft rug, worried that if she so much as sat down, she would fall asleep. After awhile, she went to the table and picked up the harp. Removing the covering, she stared at the instrument. It was the most beautiful object she’d ever seen. As dazzlingly exquisite as a piece of fine jewelry, but so much larger and more complex. And then there was the sound it made. She strummed her fingers along the strings and was startled by the pure, lovely tone that issued forth. Even her clumsy, unskilled fingers could evoke beauty from this instrument. “Bridei deserves a harp this fine,” she said aloud. “Some day I intend to buy him one.”
She replaced the covering, then began to pace again. When she was convinced enough time had passed, she put on her cloak and crept out of the bedchamber. All seemed quiet, and as she moved stealthily along the corridor, she met no one. Bridei had told her there would be a door at the end of the corridor leading to the outside. She found the door and slipped out into the night.
She made her way to the gate by the light from the half-moon. There she paused, gathering her nerve. Finally, she called up to the gatehouse, “Hullo! I need the gate opened!”
There was the sound of footsteps as the guard descended the stairs. He approached her, wearing a look of puzzlement. “Lady Dessia. I didn’t expect to see you up from your bed. The bard said you were ailing. He went to fetch you something for your stomach.”
“I know. I hope to catch him before he’s gone all the way to the healer’s. I’m feeling much better.” She smiled what she hoped was a sheepish, apologetic smile. “Bridei is too good to me. He indulges my every whim. But I regret sending him out so late. I don’t want him to waste his time searching for medicine I no longer need. I thought I would go after him.”
The guard stepped nearer, as if he meant to bar her way. “I’m not certain I should let you leave. For a man to be out in the settlement at night is one thing, but it might be hazardous for a woman.”
“Oh, I’m certain I would be safe,” Dessia responded. “We’re guests of Lord Conla and he has a very formidable reputation. I can’t believe anyone would risk angering him by harming anyone under his protection.”
“That’s likely true.”
The man was wavering. Dessia knew she must not let up. “Please let me leave . . . for Bridei’s sake. The sooner I find him, the sooner he can return to the hillfort and to his bed. Conla wouldn’t want Bridei catch an ague from the cool night air. Then he wouldn’t be able to sing and your master would be deprived of his artistry.”
The man nodded. “Lord Conla was most impress
ed with the young bard’s skills and hopes to hear him sing every night. In light of that, perhaps I should let you go. But hurry, and bring him back as soon as you can. Now that you remind me of my lord’s interest in the bard, I see I should never have let him leave at all.”
The guard opened the gate for her, and Dessia hurried out. Her heart was pounding and her skin sticky with sweat. It had been a very unnerving to spin lie after lie, but somehow she’d managed it. Now, she must find Bridei and hope they could escape Ath Cliath before morning.
* * *
Bridei shifted back and forth and rubbed his hands together in an effort to stay warm and to deal with his growing agitation. Where was she? Was she having trouble getting through the gate?
He’d no sooner had the thought when he saw a cloaked figure hurrying toward him. Rushing to meet Dessia, he pulled her into his arms. “Cariad,” he murmured in relief. “I was worried you wouldn’t be able to get away.”
“It wasn’t easy,” she responded after kissing him. “I had to argue with the guard. I finally convinced him to let me fetch you. Which means he expects us back soon. We don’t have much time.”
Bridei nodded.
Although the moonlight illuminated the many buildings around them, it was difficult to see where they were going. Dessia followed after Bridei, wondering how he knew where to go. “How will we find our way?” she asked breathlessly.
“It’s easy. If you want a boat, you must head toward the water.”
Even as he answered, Dessia realized she could hear the lap of waves. The next moment she smelled the odor of fish and garbage. The people of the settlement probably discarded their waste in the river, depending on the current to wash it away.
At last they reached an open area.. Dessia could make out the glint of water and along the bank, several boats. There were some daub and wattle dwellings nearby. Bridei raced to the nearest one and rapped sharply on the wooden door frame. “Ronat!” he called out. “I’m looking for Ronat!”
They could hear noises from inside the roundhouse. After a time the door covering was pulled aside and a sleepy woman’s voice said, “Ronat’s house is the last one up the hill.”
“Thank you,” Bridei responded.
They hurried up the slope. Reaching another roundhouse, Bridei called out for Ronat. This time it was a man who came to the door. “What do you want?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep.
“We need you to take us across the sea to Britain,” Bridei responded. “We must set out tonight.”
“Tonight?” The man snorted. “You must be mad.”
“Not mad. Desperate. Don’t worry. I’ll make it worth your while. I have near five hundred drachmas worth of gold sewed inside my tunic.”
“Five hundred?” Ronat sounded incredulous. “Where did you get such wealth?”
“I’m a bard, and I had a patron who was willing to pay dearly for me to entertain him.”
“Who was your patron? There’s no chieftain in Ireland with such resources, unless perhaps the high king.”
“Nay. It was a man in Gaul. A merchant named Atharaxis.”
Ronat grunted. “I’ve never heard of him. But I know there are men in the markets there who are rich beyond imagining. Come in, then, and let me see the gold.”
“There isn’t time. We must leave now.”
“Why? Who are you trying to get away from?”
“Conla,” Bridei answered. “He wants me to stay in his household and be his personal bard. But I have no desire to settle here. I’m trying to get back to my father’s household in Gwynedd.”
“Who’s your father?”
“Maelgwn the Great.”
“You claim kinship with the Dragon?”
“Aye.”
Ronat grunted again. Then he said, “Give me a moment. I’ll have to dress and grab a few provisions.” The flap door fell back into place.
“He’s going to help us!” Dessia said excitedly.
Bridei released his breath in a sigh. “Aye. I think so.”
A few moments later, Ronat pushed through the doorway carrying a torch. He handed the torch to Bridei, then went back in and returned with two heavy leather bags. Now that they could finally get a good look at Ronat, Dessia was surprised to discover he barely reached to Bridei’s shoulder. Even so, the seaman appeared wiry and strong.
Ronat motioned to Dessia. “You said nothing about passengers.”
Bridei moved nearer to Dessia. “This is my lady wife, Dessia.”
“I don’t usually allow women in my boat,” said Ronat. “But with the sum you’re paying me, I guess I can forgo my usual precautions.”
“I know some seamen think women bring bad luck.” responded Bridei. “But I can assure you, my wife has only brought me good fortune so far.” He smiled at her reassuringly. Dessia smiled back, although she still felt irritated by Ronat’s attitude toward women.
Ronat led them down the hill. Halfway to where the boats were kept, he stopped at another roundhouse. He banged on the doorframe and called out, “Ollam! Wake up, Ollam.”
He turned to Bridei. “My son. I’ll need his help. Unless you want to take turns rowing all the way across.”
“Whatever will get us there the fastest,” Bridei responded.
Ollam came to the door and Ronat gave him terse instructions. A few moments later, he came out of the dwelling. He was the same size of his father. Ronat motioned and they all followed him to the boats.
Dessia expected he would take them to one of the larger vessels, but Ronat picked out one of the smaller ones. As Bridei helped Ronat and Ollam launch the boat into the water, Dessia felt a sudden surge of panic. The boat seemed so tiny compared to the vast, wild sea.
Bridei reached for her hand, clearly intending to help her into the vessel. Dessia took an involuntary step back. “Are you certain . . . it’s . . . safe?” she asked.
Bridei glanced in the direction of the boat and nodded. “As safe as any means of crossing. Now we just have to pray to the gods for good weather.”
Dessia’s stomach clenched with another wave of dread. “I’ve never been on a boat before.”
Bridei pulled her close. “Don’t worry, sweeting. We’ll make it. We’ve come this far, haven’t we?”
Dessia nodded, trying to swallow her fear. She let Bridei lead her down to the water. He picked her up and waded out to the boat, where Ronat and Ollam helped her climb in. Dessia stood frozen for a moment, feeling the boat sway beneath her.
“Sit,” Ronat ordered.
Bridei climbed in the boat. Dessia gestured to his soaking trews. “You’re going to freeze.”
He shook his head. “In short while, I vow I’ll be too ill to care if I’m cold.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m afraid you're about to discover one of my most embarrassing frailties. I suffer terrible seasickness.”
Chapter 25
The sky was lightening in the east as Ronat and Ollam rowed the boat toward the sea. When they reached the river mouth, the two seamen pulled in the oars and raised the sail. Dessia watched, amazed by the balance and agility of the two men as they maneuvered in the swaying leather and wicker craft. They seemed to be able to adjust to every pitch and toss of the boat. The boat’s movement made her faintly queasy. As for Bridei—a quick glance revealed his face had turned the same grayish white as the sail. He was slumped against the side of the boat, eyes closed, jaw clenched, looking like a man being tortured.
She sat up and inhaled deeply, which seemed to ease her nausea. The air was fresh and invigorating and she was relieved they were finally on their way. The wind caught the sail and the boat moved in a swift, straight course. She watched as the sun began to come up. In moments the sky was radiant with shades of pink and lavender, and the waves gilded a gleaming gold.
As the boat picked up speed, she knew a surge of excitement. Then she turned and looked back at the shores of Ireland, receding in the distance. “I’ll come back,” she whispered.
“Someday I’ll return and claim what is mine.”
As she was making her vow, Ronat leaned near. “I guess Bridei was right. The gods appear to favor you.”
“You mean, otherwise I’d be sick?” Dessia asked.
“Aye,” said Ronat. “Or we might have encountered fog, a storm, or unpredictable winds. ‘Tis a gorgeous day. We couldn’t ask for better sailing weather.”
“How long of a journey is it?”
“’Twill take us all day, and that’s if the wind holds.” He pointed. “See? That’s where we’re headed.” Dessia strained her eyes to make out the blue-gray blur in the distance. “The first land we’ll encounter is Mona, the sacred isle. Our destination is Deganwy, east of Mona on the northern coast of Gwynedd. That’s the stronghold of Maelgwn the Great.”
Hearing Bridei’s father’s name, Dessia felt a twinge of apprehension. “I know they call him the Dragon of the Island. Is he truly that formidable?”
Ronat shrugged. “Many of the traders I’ve carried across like him well enough. He has the resources to buy luxury goods and is willing to do so. Now, if you’re planning to raid, that’s another matter. He’s killed more than a few slavers in his day, which is why the people living on the coast revere him.”
How ironic it was, Dessia thought. Maelgwn the Great had freed his people from the threat of enslavement, yet his own son had ended up in servitude. She glanced over at Bridei. His eyes were closed and he appeared to be asleep.
* * *
“Wake up, Bridei!” Bridei roused to the sound of Dessia’s excited voice. He sat up slowly, startled to realize he’d actually slept.
“Ronat says this place is called Mona,” she said. “We’re going to spend the night here, as it’s getting too dark to continue on.”
Bridei watched the approaching shoreline, barely visible in the fading light. Ynys Mon, the sacred isle. The ancestors of his people had once considered the island sacred to the old gods. There were still traces of their worship: an ancient burial mound, some standing stones, a lake from which fishermen still pulled weapons and jewelry, offerings made to the deities many years ago. Now, rich grainfields covered much of the island, the source of most of the wheat that fed the Cymry.
The Dragon Bard (Dragon of the Island) Page 32
