Child of the Northern Spring (Guinevere Trilogy)

by Persia Woolley

  “No, I’ve never been there. But it was one of my mother’s childhood homes, and my nurse used to tell how beautiful it is.”

  “Someday I’ll take you there and you will see it yourself,” he said happily. “That’s my first promise to you.”

  We laughed together then, awkward and pleased at the same time, and I was suddenly sure Mama was listening and smiling.

  “Where to now?” I asked as we reached the crossing of two main Roads.

  “It’s out of the way to take the whole caravan into Chester,” he commented, glancing at the sun. “I think the baggage train should keep to the route, and we’ll head on to the city with a light guard. That is, if you can make do with just one pack animal?”

  “Of course,” I answered, wondering how Vinnie would take the idea of giving up the litter. It was too big and bulky to be moved quickly, and while I knew she wouldn’t be willing to let me go off without her, neither would she like the idea of changing to horseback.

  “Didn’t you just come from Chester?” I asked, curious as to why he wished to return.

  “I finished up my business there yesterday,” Arthur said, nodding as he scanned the verge for a comfortable spot to rest in while we waited for the procession to catch up with us. “It seems they have a great fancy for horse racing in Chester, and Maelgwn arrived last night with a group of his best animals, so I agreed to stay over tomorrow to see the races. I understand he has excellent stock,” he added thoughtfully as he dismounted.

  “He should have!” I exclaimed, sliding off my mare and following him back to a small meadow that overlooked the road. “We of Cunedda’s line have horse breeding in our blood.”

  “Wonderful!” He beamed. “We can spend a couple of days at Chester and catch up with the caravan farther down the line. It’s as fine a city as we have these days, and I’m sure you and your ladies will be comfortable. Besides, it will give you a chance to visit with your cousin.”

  I flinched inwardly at that, remembering my father’s assessment of Maelgwn’s nature. But the idea of watching a good day of racing and exploring a “fine” city overcame whatever apprehension I felt. And it would be interesting to see how Chester compared with Carlisle, which was the only real city I had known till now.

  We hobbled the horses so they could graze, then made ourselves comfortable in the shade of a large linden tree and settled down to wait for the rest of the party.

  The afternoon was warm and the hum of bees above us denoted a wild hive. Our talk turned to all manner of things: Sir Ector’s steading in the hidden heart of Wales, my family’s holdings on both sides of the Solway, the songs and stories we both knew, the importance of the friends of childhood. When I told him about Brigit’s relatives and the present they had sent for him, Arthur was delighted and insisted that we be sure to bring the dog to Chester with us.

  “Do him good to have a few days back on his feet,” he opined, “after spending each day in a crate.”

  By the time the rest of our party caught up with us, we were past the first shy uncertainties and growing comfortable in each other’s company.

  Once the new destinations got sorted out and our smaller party was under way again, Arthur rode with Bedivere and Merlin, exchanging news and information each had gathered in the last week. I moved into place behind them, glad to have a chance to collect my thoughts.

  Arthur was so different from the “proper” king I had imagined. There was no doubt about his commitment to The Cause, or his love of the land, but it was the memory of our race to the hilltop that brought a smile.

  Chapter XXVII

  Chester

  The Legionary fortress of Chester crowns a massive outcrop of sandstone that stands guard at the edge of the Cheshire plain. It is an impressive location, and the red walls loomed proud and imposing as we approached the eastern gate.

  Near the wall a strange, sharp shape rose against the afternoon sky, and I studied it nervously as we came closer. It looked something like the henges the Gods gave us, those circular banks inside which the ceremonies of the moon are held. But this one was different, with sheer rock walls rising out of the bank and the entry full of broken stones. It shocked me to think a god’s project might be left incomplete and I made the sign against evil.

  A guard on the parapet above the gate saluted smartly and called down a greeting which Arthur returned with a wave.

  As we rode into the heart of Chester, I caught my breath. Here, as in Carlisle, there was a tumble of cottages and crooked alleys in the shadow of the rampart. But along the street that took us to the heart of the citadel, the rubble of steeply terraced ruins had been turned into shops that climbed one above the other.

  On the ground floor stores and stalls fronted the paved street, and above, behind the colonnaded walk of the second story, the shopkeepers’ families lived. It must have been market day, for gold workers and weavers, leather craftsmen and potters, bronze smiths and herbalists all displayed their goods. Here the sign of an eye doctor hung out over the street, and there a profusion of ribbons graced the balustrade, no doubt to advertise the seamstress’ shop within. Farther down the line an enterprising housewife had strung her laundry between the columns, and the day’s washing flapped merrily in the breeze.

  The people were busy, popping into and out of shops at the end of the day, collecting parcels or folding up awnings, and like the sentries, they paused to smile and wave as the High King rode by. It pleased me that the common folk in this distant outpost held him in such regard; I would have expected it from his immediate subjects in Logres, but this was far from his seat of power and spoke well of the people’s trust in him.

  Arthur dropped back to my side, obviously amused by my gawking interest in the city.

  “Must have been very impressive at one time,” he suggested.

  “Oh, it still is,” I answered, thinking it felt like a fair.

  “I’ll be staying here tonight and would like you to join us for dinner,” he went on, gesturing toward the Praetorium where the Legion’s commandants once held sway. “I made arrangements for you and your women at the nunnery by the west wall. It’s well appointed, and has room for occasional guests.”

  “I didn’t realize the Christians in Britain had special houses for women,” I mused, thinking Brigit would be delighted.

  “There are a number of them in the south, and more are being founded all the time. It started just after The Troubles,” he added thoughtfully, “when so many women and children had nowhere to go, what with farms and families being destroyed.”

  We turned into a quiet tree-lined street. The lindens grew in a straight row along the equally straight avenue, shading a long wall broken by a single heavy gate. Inside, the little stone buildings of the convent were strung out in a line, joined by a covered walk that was as austere as the empty courtyard we stood in. With the ramparts of the city looming above on one side and the convent wall on the other, I found the place grim and unfriendly. At home, the houses clustered in a circle or spilled every which way within the confines of a protective stockade, and I could not help thinking the people who lived here must feel lonely and cut off from each other.

  After we had unpacked Brigit went off to find the chapel and I was left to face Vinnie’s considerable pique. Surprisingly, she was less upset by having to forgo the litter than by my initial meeting with Arthur.

  “Of all the unheard-of, uncivilized, common things to do,” she fumed, “running off like a coarse country girl with a man you’ve not even been presented to yet.”

  “He is the High King, Vinnie,” I reminded her. “Would you have had me refuse him out of hand?”

  “Well,” she sputtered, “he should have had better manners himself. But you didn’t help any, child! Don’t forget, it is a woman’s duty to keep a man’s behavior civil. You could have reminded him of how unfitting it was to whisk you away like that, without proper respect for your status or your family’s standing. Why, think how shocked your mother wo
uld have been if she were alive to see it!”

  Apparently Vinnie’d never heard the story of my mother’s elopement, and I decided this was not the time to introduce it.

  “Now, Vinnie, there’s no harm been done, and tonight I promise to act the lady at dinner,” I said gaily. “What dress do you think I should wear?”

  The good matron’s indignation was appeased by my willingness to discuss dresses, and the news that we would be staying over for a day or two and she could use the time to explore this obviously Roman city.

  “Arthur says there’s an amphitheater, and Brigit has already gone to locate the chapel. Maybe,” I added, “there’s even a working bath.”

  By the time Bedivere arrived to escort us to dinner, I was garbed in the best of my traveling clothes. Mama’s amber necklace glowed against the creamy wool of my dress, and Brigit had braided and waved and piled my hair on my head, catching it up with the enameled barrette. I looked at the embroidery that had taken weeks to do, and for the first time saw the beauty of the product, not just the hours of frustration that had gone into making it.

  The Praetorium was in surprisingly good repair, and I stared about the long hall with interest and curiosity. A fire pit had been dug in the middle of the tile floor, and a pair of young pages kept the spits turning. Along the walls the trestle tables were filled with noisy, boisterous people from both court and township. There were warriors of several different badges, smiths and jewelers and other men of the arts, and I noted both white-robed druid and black-garbed priest as well.

  The women were equally diverse in nature: elegant, rowdy, beautiful or plain, some of haughty, aloof bearing and others spilling over with good spirits. They laughed and talked with the men casually, and didn’t seem to be the product of a special “women’s quarter” at all.

  At one end, on a raised dais, a table stretched almost the width of the room. Arthur was seated in the center, with an empty chair next to him and as our little party paused by the doorway a young man raised a trumpet and played out a cascade of notes.

  The room quieted and Arthur turned and smiled when he saw us in the door, every eye following his glance. We made our way slowly through the milling servants and scrambling dogs.

  By the time we reached the steps that led up to the dais, Arthur had come around from behind the table.

  Bedivere stopped, and moving to one side, called out in his rich voice, “Arthur Pendragon, I wish to present M’lady Guinevere, daughter of King Leodegrance and heir to the throne of Rheged.”

  Arthur looked down at me as solemnly as if I were a stranger, but when I dropped a long, slow curtsy and looked back up at him, I found the twinkle of a conspiratorial smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.

  “May you be welcome in my court,” the young King said gravely, helping me to my feet. The hand he offered trembled ever so slightly when I took it, and I shot him a quick glance, wondering if he was less sure of himself than he seemed.

  Once I stood next to him on the dais, he turned his attention to the people of the hall.

  “Be it known to all men here assembled that this is the woman I intend to marry, and I present her to you now, the future High Queen of Britain.”

  I looked out over the crowd, surprised to find that the guests had all risen to their feet. As my eye traveled from table to table, a smile spread across my face in spite of myself, and a great roar of approval went up from the crowd.

  “Guinevere! Long live Guinevere,” someone cried, and then they all took up the chant and I heard my name swell and gather and come rolling toward me like thunder. It was a sound I had never known before, and I must have flushed, for Arthur broke into a broad grin, and the cheering redoubled for both of us.

  We stood there, side by side, while the accolade of the people washed over us. There is a headiness that comes of being the center of all that attention, and by the time the crowd had quieted down and Arthur led me round the table, I was light-headed and giddy with excitement.

  A lavishly dressed nobleman was blocking our progress. He had the same tawny hair, neither blond nor red, as I have, and it dawned on me he must be my cousin Maelgwn. His mouth was smiling, but his eyes were cold as he reached out to give me a kinsman’s embrace.

  “Arthur is a very lucky man,” he said unctuously, and it was hard not to physically push him away.

  I smiled faintly and inquired, “Where is your queen this evening, cousin?”

  “Ah, she was not feeling well. She’s having another one of her bad spells, I fear, and it’s uncertain if she can join us for the races tomorrow.”

  I murmured some kind of condolence and wondered if she had any notion of the obscene proposal her husband had made to my father. Or perhaps she had been in favor of it, wishing to escape from the oily grasp of this officious man.

  After we had taken our seats, a fellow with the body of a warrior and the habit of a monk rose and offered a prayer to the Christian god. He had a compelling manner, and I asked Arthur who he was.

  “Abbot of the local monastery” came the answer. “Maelgwn says he was one of the finest warriors, but gave up his career as a soldier to start the monastery here. I’ve seen men like that before, who make their mark in the world and then renounce it all for a life devoted to their god. In this case I’m more than a little sorry,” he added in an undertone. “I’d rather have his military help for The Cause than his prayers for my soul.”

  Maelgwn was seated on the other side of me and he proved to be a clumsy neighbor, prone to bumping my leg with his or brushing his arm against mine. When I drew away from him the contact persisted, so as soon as our initial hunger was appeased, I turned my back on my cousin and faced Arthur directly.

  We chatted about the plans for the next day, and Arthur said that I was welcome to accompany him to the amphitheater if I didn’t think I would be bored.

  “The troops have agreed to put on a display for us, and I want to see what’s being done with the cavalry,” he explained. “But if you’d rather spend the time shopping among the merchants, I’m sure that news of your arrival will have brought out every craftsman and jeweler in the area.”

  “I’d much rather watch the horsemen than bargain for baubles,” I quipped. “After all, the fate of the kingdom depends on the state of our troops, not the condition of my jewel box.”

  Arthur chuckled at that, then leaning closer to me, whispered confidentially, “Who knows?—the gems you buy now may pay the cavalry in the future, if times get tight.”

  His cheerful attitude and conspiratorial air delighted me, and I was impressed by him all over again.

  The rest of the meal passed in the same fashion, being a combination of public comment and private asides meant only for me. It added a dimension of excitement that I wasn’t accustomed to, and I watched and listened to Arthur as intently as a kitten watches a flickering shadow. I hardly even noticed when Maelgwn leaned around me to participate in the conversation.

  Fortunately Arthur was looking the other way when Maelgwn slid his hand between my thighs, for I jumped like a roe deer flushed from its covert, shocked and startled beyond words. Instinctively I brought my arm forward, but before I could turn and jab the point of my elbow into Maelgwn’s midsection, Arthur had turned back to me.

  My face must have mirrored my outrage, for the High King frowned and asked if everything was all right.

  I nodded hastily and mumbled some reply between clenched teeth, pushing Maelgwn’s hand away under the guise of smoothing the crumbs off my lap. Turning, I glared at my cousin, who stared back impassively as though nothing had occurred. From now on, I thought, I’ll make sure someone sits between us.

  Once the tables were taken down Arthur called for Griflet, and the boy came bounding forward with Caesar in tow.

  “He’s a fine young pup with lots of heart,” Arthur said, taking the leash from the lad and reaching down to pet the dog. “I had a chance to get acquainted with him before dinner.”

  Caesar wrigg
led happily, ears folded back and baby teeth showing in a wide grin.

  “I would guess he’ll be larger than any other dog I’ve ever seen,” Arthur mused. “Probably heavier than the Scottish deerhounds. And if he’s as feisty in the field as he is in the kennel, he promises to have a lot of courage as well. I understand there are others available in the north, and I think we should get a bitch to go with him.”

  “Angus will be delighted,” I assured him, “though I wonder how it will be sent. You have no idea how hard it is to transport a puppy!”

  “We’ll find a way,” Arthur replied, with a certainty that made me glance at Bedivere.

  I could see Arthur’s lieutenant mentally filing the problem away for future consideration, ready to do whatever was necessary to see Arthur’s dream become a reality. He and the High King had a remarkable partnership, the kind which is of such long standing it is no longer consciously thought of.

  For a fleeting moment I wondered if there would be room for me in such an arrangement; then Bedivere was telling about Griflet’s adventures with the pup and laughter erased all other thoughts. By the time we left for the convent uncertainty was the farthest thing from my mind, and I had even forgotten the nuisance of my cousin’s unwanted attention.

  Chapter XXVIII

  Maelgwn

  The camaraderie of the night before was still evident as we went off to the amphitheater next morning.

  Arthur and Bedivere put me between them and teased me mightily when I tried to match them stride for stride. With Caesar romping along joyfully and all the laughter that was going on, I didn’t realize we were heading toward the badly made henge until we were within its shadow. For a moment I hung back, unwilling to enter so bizarre a place, until the firm echo of Kevin’s litany began to ring in my head: “What kind of Celtic daughter are you…”

  When the men paused to see why I faltered, I lifted my chin and with a gulp, linked my arms through theirs. If they could chance it, I could too.