Dragon of the Island

by Mary Gillgannon

  It was Aurora’s turn to be bitter. “Aye, he has done that. My father agreed to everything Maelgwn demanded—including that one of his daughters is to become Maelgwn’s wife.”

  There was a flicker of interest in Marcus’s eyes.

  “Will it be Julia?”

  Aurora avoided his probing look. “Maelgwn has not chosen yet,” she said coolly. “He will select one of us as his queen tonight after the feast.”

  Marcus seemed to grow white beneath his tanned skin.

  “He will not choose you!”

  Marcus said the words so fiercely, Aurora took pity on him and told him the truth.

  “It’s not likely. Traditionally, the eldest daughter is married first. Julia and Carina’s dowries are much greater than mine, and most people think they are much more beautiful, too.” Aurora thought ruefully of her sisters’ lovely fair hair and elegant manners. Next to them, she always felt plain and awkward.

  Marcus gave a contemptuous snort. “I am glad, for once, that most men seem to be blind to true beauty.” He met Aurora’s eyes, his face bright with an adoring smile. “If I were to have the chance to choose, there is no doubt which one I would find most beautiful.”

  Aurora smiled back, distracted. She was still puzzling over how to find a way to thwart Maelgwn’s plans. If only Marcus would be her ally.

  “It doesn’t matter who will be the bride,” she insisted. “We must think of some way to prevent this shameful marriage.”

  “How? Your father has already agreed to it.”

  “He could change his mind.”

  “And do what? The enemy is already within the gates of the city.”

  “What if Maelgwn were poisoned at the feast?”

  Marcus looked aghast. “Your father would never plot to kill one of his guests. It would be dishonorable! Even if he did agree to such treachery, it wouldn’t succeed. Maelgwn’s men would likely retaliate by slaughtering all of you.”

  “Perhaps that would be better. At least we would die fighting!”

  Marcus smiled faintly. “Brave words for a little lass. You put them all to shame. But remember, Aurora, the people of Viroconium have already shown their unwillingness to fight. I imagine they are comfortably resigned to giving up one of the royal princesses in exchange for their lives. Besides...” Marcus’s face grew grim again, “... need I remind you that there are worse things than death. You might be made a slave.”

  Aurora shuddered. The fate of Marcus’s family never ceased to horrify her. His grandmother had been a Saxon princess who was captured by the Roman army and sold into slavery. His mother was a house slave, his father a Roman nobleman. All Marcus had to show for his bloodline of lost nobility were his extraordinary good looks. Aurora never tired of admiring his thick golden hair, slate gray eyes and finely sculpted features.

  Aurora sighed, struggling to deal with the truth of Marcus’s words. What could one young woman do against the might of Maelgwn the Great? He was a despicable tyrant, but this was an age of tyrants. The fortunes of the Roman British nobility were on the wane, and ruthless chieftains like Maelgwn would soon rule the whole country. It seemed likely that someday her beloved Viroconium would go the way of the other ruined cities of the crumbling Roman empire.

  Marcus touched her cheek tentatively, and his eyes glowed with longing. “Don’t fret, Aurora. I can’t bear to see you so sad.”

  Aurora sighed again and allowed Marcus to embrace her. She nestled softly against his warmth, feeling his work-hardened arms tighten around her.

  “Aurora!”

  They both stiffened at the sound of Lady Cordelia’s voice.

  “You’d better go,” Marcus said, releasing her reluctantly.

  “No doubt she wants me to dress and do my hair before the feast,” Aurora complained. She looked down at her dirty, sweat-stained gown and the tangle of unruly curls around her shoulders. “I won’t heed her wishes this time! Maelgwn the Great is nothing but a barbarian, and he deserves no better than this.”

  Aurora gave Marcus a quick kiss and hurried out the back way. She slipped through the apple orchard and the woods, retraced her path over the town wall and through the darkening streets. When she reached the great hall, she went directly to the kitchen and offered her services. The cook looked at her askance a moment and then nodded. Picking up an urn of wine, Aurora left the kitchen triumphantly. It was perfect—it was completely appropriate for the host’s daughter to wait on important guests, and by posing as a serving wench she would have a chance to observe the enemy up close without being detected.

  Aurora walked briskly to the table where Maelgwn and his men were seated. They still wore their swords and battle attire, and Aurora doubted seriously if they had even washed. She suppressed the urge to pour the contents of the urn in Maelgwn’s lap, and went around the table, neatly pouring wine in each finely wrought bronze cup.

  The Cymru—as Maelgwn’s men called themselves—talked quietly, their manner cautious and wary. Except for Maelgwn, the foreigners were not tall, but they were powerfully built. They had dark, rather deep-set eyes and long curly hair. Like the men of Viroconium, they shaved their faces, although a few wore mustaches.

  Aurora returned to the kitchen for a tray of food, and carried it back to the head table. This time she dared to linger close to Maelgwn, and even ask if he would like more wine. He looked up, noting her vaguely, and then shook his head. Aurora moved on, trembling slightly. Even from a few inches away, Maelgwn looked very intense and dangerous. What might he do if he discovered she wasn’t really a serving girl?

  As Aurora headed for another plate of food, she saw her parents and sisters entering the hall. Julia shot Aurora a look of horror, and her mother’s eyes grew wide. Lady Cordelia leaned over to whisper to Constantine, and his eyes met Aurora’s with a frightened stare. Aurora realized abruptly that her impulsive urge to play spy might well cause trouble between her father and his new ally. If Maelgwn found out who she was, he would undoubtedly think Aurora’s father had put her up to the disguise, and blame Constantine for deceiving him. Aurora swallowed hard, cursing her own foolishness. When would she learn to think before she acted?

  Aurora ducked into the kitchen and stayed there during the rest of the meal. Only when people finished eating, and the crowded hall grew silent with expectation, did she dare to slip out the doorway and take her place near the carved supporting beam. She watched as Constantine led her sisters to stand before Maelgwn. They looked beautiful in their finest gowns, their golden hair elaborately braided. Aurora’s bitter resentment returned. The enemy warlord did not deserve either of her sisters, not even quarrelsome Julia!

  Maelgwn watched as Constantine led his two daughters to the dais. There was a soft sound of satisfaction from the room, for both girls were quite comely. The eldest, whom Constantine introduced first, had hair of a burnished gold color, rich and shining like the sun. Lady Julia’s skin was a flawless ivory, her eyes a brilliant blue green. She was small, but rather buxom, showing a tendency toward plumpness.

  The other girl’s beauty was, if anything, even more arresting. Although Lady Carina’s hair was a plainer, darker blond, her features were exquisitely perfect. Long dark lashes hid her soft blue eyes, and her mouth was a delicious rosebud.

  But Maelgwn was unmoved by Constantine’s daughters’ loveliness, for he could find no satisfaction in what he sensed beneath the exterior of heart-stopping beauty. It was obvious that the eldest daughter despised him. Her brilliant cat eyes glared like daggers, and her fine features were contorted with contempt. If a part of him was amused by her spirit, his mind told him that she would likely make a shrewish, difficult wife.

  In contrast, the younger princess seemed calm and accepting. Too calm, Maelgwn thought. He noticed that her hands grasped a prayer necklace and her lips moved as if praying. Maelgwn felt a twinge of uneasiness. Most of his people still honored the pagan gods of hill, stream and forest. He did not need an overly devout queen to cause dissension in his c
ourt.

  Maelgwn turned away from the two girls and addressed Constantine impatiently: “I was told there were three daughters; I would like to see the third.”

  Constantine looked flustered. “Maelgwn, my lord. Either of my older daughters would make an excellent wife. Perhaps you don’t appreciate... my wife has trained them herself in all the skills of running a fine household. They can both read and write and sing like nightingales. No finer needlework is done by any woman in Viroconium—”

  Maelgwn interrupted Constantine’s recitation of the wifely virtues of his daughters with a cold, mirthless laugh.

  “Constantine, I see before me two quite lovely women, except that one looks like she would like to scratch out my eyes and the other belongs more in a convent than a marriage bed. Since I don’t fancy having to take my sword to bed or having my soul prayed for daily, I would like to see the third daughter ere I choose.”

  Constantine flushed and looked around the hall with an odd expression. Finally, after glancing at Maelgwn uneasily, he motioned to a young woman who stood half-hidden behind one of the hall supports. As the woman walked forward, Maelgwn frowned in puzzlement. What was this—some well-favored servant girl Constantine sought to pass off as his daughter? The woman’s wavy dark hair was disheveled, her plain gown faded and stained, and there was even a smudge of dirt on her cheek. With a start, Maelgwn realized she had served him his wine before dinner.

  “My youngest daughter, Aurora.” Constantine’s voice was stiff, his face grim.

  Maelgwn stared at the young woman intently. On second glance, she did not look like a serving wench at all. She was quite tall, and her straight, proud bearing bespoke noble blood. Her dirt-streaked face was provocatively foreign, and her elegant cheekbones and finely-arched brows clearly bore the stamp of some Roman ancestor. Maelgwn suppressed a smile. Constantine had tried to be clever, but his cleverness had given him away. By dressing the youngest princess as a raggedy child and not even presenting her, Constantine had revealed his true feelings—this daughter was obviously his favorite.

  Maelgwn allowed his eyes to linger on the woman’s sensuous features and the supple curves of her body. A warm flush of arousal spread through his loins, and his mind met it with a vague sense of unease. This daughter was definitely beguiling, perhaps too much so. He sensed pride and keen intelligence in the enigmatic blue-gray eyes which met his own. His unease deepened, but only for a moment. This exotic-looking woman might not make the most docile of wives, but there was no doubt she was the one he should choose. Constantine obviously held this daughter dear. What better hold could he hope to have on his unwilling ally’s heart than to marry his most beloved child?

  Maelgwn hardly glanced at the other daughters. “This one,” he said, pointing at Aurora. “I will marry this daughter, Constantine. You may ready your household for a wedding tomorrow.”

  * * *

  “How could you?” Julia asked Aurora peevishly as soon as they reached the privacy of the villa. “Acting like a loathsome table wench—Maelgwn might have thought Papa was trying to deceive him. Your behavior could have ruined the truce and gotten us all killed.”

  “I noticed that you weren’t so anxious to preserve the truce when it appeared Maelgwn might choose you,” Aurora retorted. “Perhaps I was foolish, but at least I will bear the blame for it.”

  “Don’t say that,” Carina implored. “You are not to blame. I think that Maelgwn chose you out of spite, to hurt Papa. It makes me wonder what kind of man he is.”

  “Don’t be silly. We know what kind of man he is,” Julia argued. “Maelgwn is ruthless, scheming, wicked...”

  “Julia!” Lady Cordelia’s voice was harsh. “It’s time you went to bed. I want to talk to Aurora alone.”

  Aurora allowed her mother to lead her to her bedchamber and help her undress. Her bed was in a little alcove set off from the main room where her sisters slept, and she could hear their whispers through the separating curtain. For once she did not strain to hear their talk. She was too shocked, too numb to deal with anything but her own thoughts. Never had she imagined Maelgwn would chose her. It was a complete breach of good manners to select the youngest daughter when she had two older, marriageable sisters available. Why had Maelgwn done it? Did he think that Constantine had deliberately hidden her away? If so, his choosing her was, as Carina suggested, an act of obvious spite.

  Aurora tried to muster the energy to renew her fury toward her future husband. He was so arrogant, so brazen. She could not forget his probing look before he chose her, the way his eyes lingered on her body where the gown pulled tight. The memory of his look made her shiver with fear... and something else.

  “Aurora,” Lady Cordelia’s voice was soft and tender as she brushed Aurora’s tangled dark hair. “Don’t be frightened. Despite what Julia says, we don’t really know what kind of man Maelgwn is. There are plenty of leaders who deal ruthlessly with their enemies, but that doesn’t mean they’re not decent or respectable people. Your father, for example. He has ruled Viroconium strongly and well for nearly a score of years, but no one could ask for a more devoted husband and father.”

  Lady Cordelia paused, reluctant to suggest that Maelgwn might be a doting husband. She didn’t really know what to say to Aurora. She had never discussed the realities of marriage with her youngest daughter. She must try quickly to impart some of what she had learned in twenty years of being a wife.

  “A man like Maelgwn will undoubtedly expect your complete obedience,” Lady Cordelia began. “But making him care for you is another matter. If you can learn to anticipate his needs and meet them eagerly, your husband will soon come to depend upon you for comfort and security in his life. Over time you may become his partner, his consort as well as his wife.”

  Aurora gaped at her mother. “You mean you expect me to try and please Maelgwn, to make him happy?”

  “Of course! I know little of Cymru practices, but among our people, the Cornovii, a man has complete authority over everyone in his household, including his wife. A wife’s place is not to question her husband’s authority, but to influence it.”

  Aurora looked distinctly displeased by these words, and Lady Cordelia felt a stirring of apprehension. She and Constantine had spoiled Aurora and failed to prepare her for her future as a nobleman’s wife. Her daughter’s fiery temper and headstrong nature would not endear her to a grim, hardened man like Maelgwn. Still, Lady Cordelia did not think even Maelgwn the Great could be immune to Aurora’s beauty and innocent charm. Which brought her to another subject she needed to discuss with her daughter.

  “Aurora, you do know of a wife’s duties in the marriage bed, don’t you?”

  Aurora blushed and nodded. Lady Cordelia touched her daughter’s cheek reassuringly.

  “Lovemaking can be a great joy, Aurora, and forge a strong bond between you and your husband. It need not be an unpleasant duty, although much depends on the man...” She stopped short. Maelgwn didn’t seem like someone who would have patience with a frightened, inexperienced girl. She could only hope that her first impression of him was overly harsh.

  Lady Cordelia smoothed the blankets around her daughter’s slender form. There seemed little more to say. Aurora was marrying an unknown rather uncivilized man. She could only pray that things turned out well for her.

  After her mother left, Aurora lay in bed, too tense to sleep. She listened to the villa’s night sounds that floated in through the unglazed windows: the lowing of cattle, the bark of her father’s hounds, the murmur of muffled voices through the plaster and stone walls. Her mind worked feverishly, slowly forming a plan. She might be doomed to marry Maelgwn and leave Viroconium behind, but that did not mean she must abandon everything she cared about. Despite her future husband’s vile reputation, there were advantages to marrying a powerful and wealthy man. She would likely have her own chambers and her own servants to wait upon her. There would be nothing unusual in bringing along a manservant to take care of her horse and serve her i
n ways a maid could not. If Marcus could come with her, her lot would not be so bitter, nor her loss so great.

  Aurora was flooded with relief as the idea unfolded. Maelgwn was a busy, important man and would probably be away on campaign much of the time. She would have plenty of time to be with Marcus, to ride and talk. It would be almost like things were now. Aurora lay back on the bed and began to relax. She would go to Marcus first thing in the morning and tell him her wonderful plan.

  Chapter 3

  The shoals and rapids of the river shimmered in the afternoon sun, nearly blinding him. Maelgwn looked away, focusing his eyes on the fishing line he was baiting. Sweat trickled down his forehead, but he was as oblivious to the heat as he was to the gnats that circled around him in iridescent clouds.

  “Maelgwn!”

  He turned, startled, and saw his sister Esylt coming down the pathway. His first reaction was anger—at her for surprising him and making him jump, and at himself for letting her sneak up on him. His anger lasted only briefly, for he saw something in Esylt’s face that made his pulse quicken with expectation. Her deep blue eyes were bright as flames and her face flushed beyond the exertion of hurrying down the steep, rocky path. She reached out and placed a small tanned hand upon his own.

  “Father is dead.”

  Her words sank in slowly as Maelgwn stared at the silvery-brown texture of Esylt’s fingers. The contentment of the summer’s day drained away, and he felt empty and cold. He forced himself to speak, cringing as his voice came out in an anguished, adolescent croak.

  “How?”

  “A sickness of the stomach.” Esylt’s voice was matter-of-fact. “It felled him at Cowyn and he died two days later. He suffered fiercely, but the end came quickly enough. Not a warrior’s death—still, they say he was brave.”

  Dead. How could his father be dead? Maelgwn shook his head, as if trying to deny Esylt’s words. Cadwallon had always seemed invincible. As far as Maelgwn knew, his father had never been beaten in battle. Now he was dead, just like any other man—except that he was not like any other man. No chieftain before him had ever been able to unite the warring tribes of Gwynedd into one kingdom, one people. Cadwallon’s strong rule had brought the country years of peace. Maelgwn shuddered slightly, thinking about the future. Who could take his father’s place? Who would carry on after him?