Dragon of the Island

by Mary Gillgannon

  “How can you? All these jars and bags and baubles... it’s a good thing you had my whole army there to carry your possessions home when you left Viroconium!” He picked up a bracelet of silver strung with blue beads and flung it across the room for emphasis.

  “What are you looking for?” Aurora asked again, hurrying to help him lest he start throwing her things out the window.

  “My good tunic. I haven’t had it since we arrived.”

  “I am sure Gwenaseth put it away in the chest,” Aurora said, scrambling to retrieve a bronze pot of rose oil that Maelgwn had thrown aside. “Why do you need it?”

  “I’m going to visit my holdings along the coast.”

  Aurora stopped her frantic rescue of her possessions and stared at her husband anxiously. “Will I be going with you?”

  “No.”

  Maelgwn did not look up as he opened the large wooden chest bound with strips of hammered bronze.

  “How long will you be gone?”

  “A few weeks at most.”

  Aurora’s heart sank. It had barely been a week since they had arrived at Caer Eryri and already Maelgwn was leaving. She did not like to think of staying in this lonely, foreign place without him.

  Maelgwn glanced up and saw her worried face.

  “Is there no way I could go?” she pleaded.

  “We’ll be traveling fast and light,; we can’t slow down to worry about a woman.”

  Maelgwn’s face was hard and determined, and Aurora knew there was no point in arguing. Anyway, how could she explain the sense of desolation that came over her at the thought of being left alone at Caer Eryri? It was more than missing her family and the familiar surroundings of home. She felt a nameless dread, as if something terrible was going to happen.

  Maelgwn found his tunic and was looking at her with warmth in his eyes. “If you will miss me, come and show me how much,” he said huskily.

  Aurora went to him willingly, surprised by her need for him. Since the day after their fight, things between them had been very good.

  Maelgwn left early the next morning, and Aurora soon decided she had never been so miserable and bored in her whole life. There was nothing for her to do at Caer Eryri. Esylt was in charge of everything, and whenever Aurora ventured into the bakehouse or the creamery or the dye-room, she was met with stares of curiosity and sometimes outright hostility. The acceptance she had felt the night of the homecoming feast was gone, as if it had been an illusion conjured up out of the music, the wine and the smoky fire. Most of the Cymru had gone off to the far corners of Gwynedd, and those left behind had no intention of giving Aurora a chance.

  The women especially seemed wary and disapproving. They seldom spoke more than a few words to her, and often when she entered a room or passed by an open door, all conversation stopped, as if she was intruding. The women of Caer Eryri met in the great hall nearly every afternoon—to spin and sew and gossip. Aurora had joined them several times, taking some embroidery to work on while trying to make friends. The women never made an effort to include her in the conversation, and Aurora soon grew bored with their talk of babies and dyes and stitches.

  Her suspicion that they were only tolerating her was confirmed by an incident with one of Sewan’s children. The chubby youngster ventured near to Aurora one day, and with childish curiosity, reached out to touch her long, unbound hair. Sewan immediately rushed over and snatched the child away. Although she explained that she did not want the child to bother Aurora, Sewan’s stiff face told Aurora the truth—the women of Caer Eryri did not want their children near the strange, foreign woman Maelgwn had chosen for his queen.

  “Why would Sewan act like that?” Aurora asked in a wounded voice when she related the incident to Gwenaseth afterwards.

  “I don’t know,” Gwenaseth answered gently. “I think you must be patient and give them time to accept you.”

  Aurora frowned. “Could it be Esylt’s doing?” she asked, suddenly suspicious. “Perhaps she has poisoned their minds against me.”

  Gwenaseth shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. They treated me much the same at first, and while Esylt is no friend of mine, she had no reason to turn people against me. I’m afraid it’s just their way. The Cymru of the hills are a very tight-knit, clannish people.”

  “It seems so... so stupid,” Aurora said in frustration. “How do they know what kind of person I am if they don’t give me a chance?”

  Gwenaseth tried to soothe her. “Caer Eryri is not like my home, along the coast, where strangers come every few weeks bringing goods and news. The people here live in the same valley where their great-grandparents grew up. The men go off to fight and learn of new things that way, but many of the women will never be out of this valley in their lives. Their days are filled with small worries of their children, their households and their husbands. A woman like you...” Gwenaseth glanced at Aurora’s rich gown, the shimmer of jewelry at her slender neck and fine-boned wrists. “You threaten them, make them feel the dullness of their lives.”

  Aurora sighed. “What of the dullness of my life? Maelgwn will always go off without me. I hate sewing and spinning, and Esylt will not allow me any part of the responsibilities I was trained for by my mother. What am I to do to fill my days?”

  “Well, eventually, God willing, you will have children to care for.” Gwenaseth smiled dreamily at the thought. “As for now, you must learn to entertain yourself somehow. Tell me, what did you do with your time when you were growing up?”

  Aurora frowned, remembering the idle hours she had spent with Marcus. “Well, I did have certain responsibilities. It was my job to see to the butter-making each week and to help my mother with the inventory of all household supplies. Of course, we all took turns spinning and weaving, and for a long time I had lessons with Arian. I complained about it then, but now I miss it. And here... here there are no books to read nor anyone to teach me.”

  Homesickness was creeping over Aurora again, and her voice began to quaver slightly. “But most of all, when the weather was fine, I went riding. It was wonderful to feel the wind blow in my hair and smell the sweet fragrance of honeysuckle and apple blossoms in my father’s orchards, or to go into the woods and hear the warblers and green plovers calling.”

  “Why can’t you go riding here?” Gwenaseth asked.

  “I suppose I could,” Aurora said thoughtfully. “But who would go with me? You’ve already told me that you hate riding and none of the other women would willingly consent to spend time with me.”

  Gwenaseth had to agree. No woman she knew would choose to tramp about on a horse for pleasure. Esylt had her own horse and sometimes went riding, but then she, too, was royalty and far removed from the average woman’s lot.

  “I could send Elwyn,” Gwenaseth said with a bright smile. “After all, Maelgwn told him to look after you while he was away.”

  Aurora was uneasy with Gwenaseth’s suggestion. She liked Elwyn very much, too much considering that she was married already and he was betrothed to Gwenaseth.

  She was also afraid that going riding with him would bring back the memories of Marcus that she had tried to put out of her mind.

  “I don’t think Maelgwn would like it if I took Elwyn away from his work. Maybe I should go by myself. I’m sure it’s safe if I don’t venture out of the valley.”

  Gwenaseth looked doubtful, but eventually went along with the idea.

  It was not as easy to persuade Flavian in the stables. Paithu had been let out to pasture near the fortress, and one of the slave boys would have to go and fetch her. But Aurora used her warm smile and soft voice to its best advantage, and soon the lovely gray mare was ready to depart.

  It was a warm, sunny day, with only a slight breeze to ripple the silvery green leaves of the trees in the valley. Aurora wore her old, stained dress from Viroconium, and her hair was done up in braids. Her thick hair was especially cumbersome outdoors, and since Maelgwn was not here to care how she wore it, she had decided that the l
ong braids the Cymru women wore would be both practical and comfortable.

  It felt good to be riding again, and Aurora wondered why she had not thought of it before. She gave Paithu free rein and headed down the track at a gallop. Aurora’s heart soared in her chest, filling her with a warm happiness. She had already learned that clear sunny days were a rarity in Gwynedd. More often it was rainy and overcast. She marveled now at the vivid colors that the sunshine revealed. There was every shade of green imaginable shading the wide sweep of the valley and the verdant loveliness was highlighted with the sparkle of silvery rocks and the fleeting color of wildflowers scattered over the rugged terrain. Farther down the valley, the glitter of two quiet, gray-blue lakes caught her eye.

  Aurora followed the pathway down to the river and skirted the squalid village on her way to the largest of the lakes. The soft light turned the lake waters a pale blue that contrasted prettily with the green of the reeds and grasses around it. As she paused at the edge of the lake, a slight breeze ruffled the loose strands of hair at the base of Aurora’s neck and cooled her sweaty skin. Paithu tossed her head suddenly, and Aurora realized that her horse was thirsty. The bright green and blue flies had already discovered the mare’s delicious, salty skin, and Aurora decided to allow the horse to walk eagerly into the shallows to drink and drive away her tormenters.

  When the mare had drunk her fill, Aurora rode on looking for a dry spot away from the damp marshes with their hordes of insects. She finally found a small cove surrounded by boulders where she could dismount and sit comfortably on the gravelly shore. Clasping her arms around her knees, Aurora leaned back and watched the wheeling circles of the birds overhead. A languid calm filled her. The lake water was glassy and still, and only the call of the water birds—fishers and black-backed gulls—broke the peaceful spell of the place. Aurora closed her eyes and breathed deeply. It seemed she could smell the salty scent of the sea, which she knew was only a few dozen miles away. She inhaled the strange, exotic fragrance deeply. The warmth of the sun and the humid air enveloped her, and she grew sleepy and content.

  The jangle of Paithu’s bridle as the mare shook off the tormenting flies startled Aurora awake. She had barely dozed, but it seemed she dreamed. Marcus’s name was on her lips, as if she had just been with him. This was the sort of place he would have enjoyed, she thought as she began to throw pebbles idly into the water. An important man like Maelgwn would never take time to linger on this peaceful shore. Aurora felt the bitter sting of tears in her eyes.

  Her tears blurred her vision, and Aurora looked out onto the water, staring unseeingly at the scum of petals and insects that coated the oily surface. She gasped in surprise when she caught sight of a large, creamy white bird floating into the inlet. It was a swan—as silvery white as a summer cloud—followed by her smoky gray cygnets. Aurora held her breath, entranced by the scene of grace and tenderness.

  “I thought I would find you here,” a voice said from behind her.

  Aurora was so startled, she jumped. Then she turned to smile at Elwyn’s familiar tanned face.

  “How did you know I would be here?” she asked, still a little breathless with surprise.

  “You admired this lake when we first came to the valley, and I guessed you might come here. Gwenaseth sent me to find you.”

  “I told her that it wasn’t necessary to take you away from your other responsibilities.”

  “I don’t mind, and Maelgwn told me to look after you.” Elwyn’s eyes were grave and admiring, and Aurora pulled her glance away with difficulty.

  “Look,” she said, pointing to the swan and her brood. “Are they not beautiful?”

  “And I had not the presence of mind to bring my bow.”

  “You would not!” Aurora whirled to face him again. “They are so beautiful; how could you want to kill them?”

  “They are beautiful, but they make fine eating, too,” Elwyn said with the glimmer of a smile. “I can see you are from a place where food is plentiful, or you would not be so quick to dismiss an easy meal. But no...” he continued more seriously. “I would not kill a female with young. Now the cob—I would not hesitate to pursue him for the supper table.”

  “It’s strange that females are held cheaply among men, when they are so valued among animals,” Aurora mused.

  “Cheaply is a poor choice of word,” said Elwyn. “At least for a woman like you. I’m sure Maelgwn would fight very hard to keep you, and clearly your father set great store by his youngest daughter.”

  “Women are hardly considered important by the Cymru,” Aurora said irritably. “We are left behind, forgotten, while men do the important things.”

  “I hardly think ‘forgotten’ is fitting either. I’m sure Maelgwn thinks of you while he is away, and I... I could never hope to forget you.”

  Aurora blushed at his compliment, suddenly uncomfortable. She had not been fishing for kind words, and she hoped he didn’t think so. She took a stick and began to dig in the soft gravel on the shoreline.

  “I don’t wonder that you wish to linger here,” Elwyn said with a soft sigh of satisfaction. “It’s so peaceful, and except for the mountains all around us, it must remind you of the gentle landscape of the lowlands.”

  “I had almost forgotten the mountains. I am not used to them yet, they seem somehow to crowd me.”

  “You will grow used to them in time,” Elwyn answered. “Come, let us walk awhile; our horses will wait for us.”

  Aurora put her sandals on, and then, because the shore was slippery, took the arm that Elwyn reached out to steady her with. They didn’t speak as they walked. It was as if they both wanted nothing to interrupt the dreamlike quality of the day.

  They walked back to the marshy edge of the lake. When Elwyn made a move to lead her to drier ground, Aurora let her arm slip out of his. “I want to pick some of those,” she said, motioning toward a clump of purple flowers blooming among the reeds. She took off her sandals and stepped gingerly on the marshy ground, holding her dress up to her knees.

  “Be careful,” Elwyn warned.

  The lake edge was slicker than she thought, and Aurora stepped awkwardly on the slimy surface. All at once, a blackbird, surprised to find danger so close, flew up, calling out an angry alert. The sudden motion surprised Aurora, and she lost her balance and slipped into the water with a little cry.

  “Aurora!” Elwyn called as he waded in after her, shoes and all.

  “I am all right,” Aurora said, laughing. “Oh, look at you!” She laughed helplessly at the sight of Elwyn standing knee deep in the muddy water.

  “Here, let me help you,” he said, reaching out to her. Aurora grasped his hand and stood up carefully. Then she began to slip again, almost dragging Elwyn down. Her eyes were full of playful mirth, and Elwyn thought for a moment that she meant to pull him in.

  “Oh no, you don’t!” he cried, scooping her up in his arms. Aurora giggled happily as Elwyn sloshed through the water toward the dry ground. She glanced tentatively at Elwyn’s face, now so close to hers. How different his face was from Maelgwn’s. It was still as smooth and soft as a boy’s. She could see the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes. What beautiful children he will have with Gwenaseth, she thought, babies with eyes of gold and green.

  Elwyn dare not glance down at the radiant face watching him. He concentrated on his footing, but his heart pounded unnaturally and when he finally put Aurora down, his hands were trembling.

  “There,” he said at last, releasing her. “I hope you are satisfied. You’ve ruined my shoes as well as your dress.”

  “It is an old dress,” Aurora answered. “Anyway, was it not a small price to pay to make your queen smile?”

  “Queen! You look more like a dirty village girl fishing barefoot in the river!” Elwyn answered gaily. He could not believe the bold, teasing tone he was using. There was something about Aurora that made him feel so comfortable, so at ease, he completely forgot she was the king’s wife.

  Aurora did not
seem to mind his jesting. Her cheeks were flushed with pleasure, and she smiled broadly at him. For a moment, Elwyn could scarcely take his eyes away. They dwelt lingeringly on the delicate bones of her face, the haunting blue eyes and the irresistible curve of her lips.

  It was Aurora who broke the trance with a cracked whisper. “We must be getting back.” Then more lightly she added, “While I have no one who awaits me, Gwenaseth will be impatient for her beloved Elwyn to return.”

  Without speaking, they walked back to their horses. The same somber mood infected them both. They could sense danger in their friendship. As enjoyable as this quiet afternoon had been, they dare not do it again.

  Chapter 15

  The next day, Aurora dressed to go riding again. It was overcast, and the valley seemed bleaker and more desolate. Aurora glanced at the dull, opaque sky and decided to take her cloak. It would most certainly rain before the day was over.

  As she left the fortress and guided the horse down the hill, Aurora felt the familiar ache of homesickness. Still, she was determined to go riding alone. The special time she had spent with Elwyn the day before made her uneasy. She suspected that Maelgwn was a fiercely possessive man. He might not be pleased by her friendship with one of his men.

  She set her course for the nearer lake and took her time following the track by the river, pausing to admire scattered bunches of flowers releasing pollen and scent into the breeze. The trees in the valley reminded her of her father’s orchards, so spicy rich in the fall, sweet and fragrant in the spring. How much she missed her home—the sight of white stones in the sun, the urgent buzz of the black and yellow bees, the fruity, hypnotic odor of ripening apricots and pears. Here there was no orchard and nothing that could be called a garden either.

  When Aurora reached the lake, she was disappointed by how different it seemed from the day before. The water was a cold grayish-blue, and the cry of the gulls sounded lonesome. Impulsively, she turned away from the water and headed toward the spill of forest on the west edge of the valley. Full of curiosity, she entered the tangle of vegetation. This was a different sort of forest than that of the lowlands. Much of it was made up of thick, dense oaks. The rocky ground was cushioned everywhere with damp, blackish mosses, and the echo of running water was never far away. The sound seemed to come from underground, a vague, uncanny gurgle that reminded her of spirits whispering beneath the earth.