Dragon of the Island

by Mary Gillgannon

  “Do you rule over all this land?” she asked her husband, gesturing to the vast gray, blue and russet slopes which surrounded them.

  “Aye, though ‘rule’ is an extravagant word to use. The tribes that live here have a simple life, herding their cattle and sheep over the hills as their grandfathers did. I act as their protector, and they give me homage, but truly the eagles that fly above these high peaks are as much lords of this place as I.”

  Aurora was immediately struck by the image of a majestic eagle looking down on his wild, forbiddingly beautiful kingdom. How much Maelgwn was like those lords of the air—powerful, solitary, ruthless. No wonder he felt so at home in his mountain fortress.

  “Why do they need a protector?” Aurora asked after her thoughts had run their course. “It would seem that no one would disturb them here.”

  “Perhaps they don’t,” Maelgwn said slowly. “The Irish, the Picts, even the Romans—no invaders have ever really penetrated these wild lands. It is too much work to bring an army here, and there is too little wealth to seize to make it worthwhile. But even here the people have a sense of what it means to be Cymru, and they fear what would happen if that were lost.”

  Aurora shook her head in confusion. “Cymru—what does it mean?”

  Maelgwn smiled, and his eyes grew misty with a softness Aurora seldom saw there. “It means ‘the people’ but it is more than a name. We have been here so long, we are part of the land. Already the barrows and magic places are ancient, and my people’s heritage goes back even before that time. Our bards sing of heroes dead for centuries, gods that have inspired awe for a thousand years.”

  “And you hate all who came after you—like the Romans,” Aurora said resentfully.

  Maelgwn answered sharply, “I cannot hate the Romans. I’m sure that my people hated them. The Deceangli fought them most bitterly. You could say the Romans never really conquered us. They just built their forts and lived side-by-side with our settlements. But by now most people can see that the Romans gave us many good things—warhorses, Samian ware, wine. They taught us how to fight wars with discipline and strategy, otherwise we would never be able to hold our own against the Saxons, the Picts, the Irish.

  “While I won’t live like your father—wearing a fine white toga, living in a boxlike house with patterned floors, statues and fountains, I can appreciate the beauty and wealth that the Romans made possible.” He paused and a half-smile played upon his lips. “Everything I sought at Viroconium was there because of the Romans—even you.”

  “Do you appreciate me?”

  “What makes you think I do not?”

  Aurora was silent. It was humiliating to try and get a word of tenderness from this man. She would not beg for it. He seemed determined to see her as just another of Constantine’s fine possessions he had stolen.

  The silence weighed heavily between them, and they were both grateful when Balyn pulled up to discuss where they would make camp that night. Aurora let her horse fall behind the men, keeping to her own thoughts. Behind her she could hear Esylt’s husky voice as she spoke to her companion. Despite Maelgwn’s presence, Aurora felt uneasy at the thought of having to look at Esylt’s face across the campfire. The hate that ran between them was so strong, it seemed to move in the air like a living thing. Esylt still had not said anything to Maelgwn about Aurora and Elwyn, but that did not mean she never planned to. As little trust as she had with her husband, Aurora did not want to see that little bit destroyed.

  The rugged hills and marshy valleys made for hard riding, and Aurora was glad when Maelgwn decided to make camp early in a narrow valley filled with alder and birch. The sun was still visible in the misty sky, but evening fell quickly in the shadowed hills and the purple curtain of night descended over them.

  They had not taken time to hunt for game, and so they made a meal of barley bannock, hard white cheese flavored with wild garlic, and heather beer. Aurora had no taste for the beer, and they had no wine, so she drank water. There was a sweet spring near where they camped, and Aurora was able to wash her face and hands after supper.

  For a while they all sat companionably around the fire—Aurora and Maelgwn silent, while Balyn, Gareth and Rhys argued the merits of a certain type of bridle bit in battle. Esylt had made the Irish slave wait upon her since they stopped, and when he finally fell into an exhausted sleep in the back of the pack wagon, she called out angrily to him, “Get up, you useless cur of a boy, and get us some more beer!”

  Aurora sucked in her breath in outrage and looked at Maelgwn, but he shook his head and warned her with his eyes against speaking. Aurora tried to keep calm, even though she was choking on her anger, but when Grimerwyn bent his head close to Esylt’s face and began to kiss her noisily, Aurora could endure it no longer. She stood up and walked off into the darkness.

  The wan light of a lean moon soothed her some, but her hands were still clenched into fists when Maelgwn came to find her.

  “Why do you tolerate her disgusting behavior?” she demanded.

  “What harm is it? It’s her own pride and self-respect she squanders, not mine.”

  “But she is your sister!”

  “And a free woman. Esylt chooses her own companions, and the way she wishes to live. As long as she does not interfere with my life, why should I care?”

  “And I am not a free woman?” Aurora asked suddenly.

  Maelgwn’s voice changed, and she could sense the tense set of his jaw in the half-darkness. “No,” he answered.

  “But why not? I am a princess, too, I have as much royal blood in my veins as she, more if you count my Roman great-grandfather, who was nephew to Emperor Theodosius.”

  “Because you are my wife,” Maelgwn said firmly. “When your father chose to give you to me, all your rights passed into my hands.”

  “My father did not choose!” Aurora said indignantly. “He was forced.”

  “It’s all the same now.”

  “So I have no rights?”

  “You have rights. You will live a life of comfort and leisure because of me. People will defer to your wishes and honor you always.”

  “But I have no rights with you? Is that what you are saying?”

  Maelgwn turned to face her, and she could see his face—hard, arrogant and as cold as a statue. “According to Cymru law, there are some things you could divorce me for.”

  “Such as?”

  “Bringing another woman into our home... or if I am incapable in bed.”

  Aurora laughed mirthlessly. “And what of you? According to Cymru law, for what reasons can you divorce me?”

  “A Cymru man can divorce his wife if she is unfaithful or if she mocks his manhood. But since I am king I have more reasons, if your father breaks his promise with me or if you fail to bear me a son, for example.”

  “But if my father keeps his part of the bargain, you can hardly afford to divorce me for any reason,” Aurora suggested cagily.

  “Isn’t it odd. If I bring up my arrangement with your father, you fly into a rage, yet you use it whenever you are afraid.”

  “I am not afraid!” Aurora hissed in fury.

  Maelgwn pulled her to him, and the touch of the cold metal of the dagger at his belt made her jump. His hands moved over her body intimidatingly, first stroking her roughly, lingering tantalizingly for a moment between her legs, and then finally moving up to hold her throat in a firm, but gentle grasp.

  “I don’t want you to be very afraid of me, Aurora,” he whispered. “Just a little.”

  It was hopeless, Aurora thought as she began to respond to the sensations Maelgwn’s strong fingers aroused in her. Maelgwn had years of experience in negotiating, testing his opponents, finding their weaknesses and measuring how to dominate them. After these few weeks of knowing Maelgwn, she still did not understand him, or know his vulnerable points—except for Esylt, and that was a weapon she dared not use.

  Aurora gave in to her husband. It felt good, and she did not want to be fighting
him in the lonely, whispering darkness. She let him find the tie to her trousers and impatiently pull the loose garment off of her. He rode her like a stallion then, standing up. His back arched against a tree as he pumped into her, and Aurora grabbed his strong shoulders and held on.

  Chapter 18

  The rest of the journey was uneventful. They rode long hours over endless hills and valleys. The scent of the sea followed them, but they never set eyes on it. They were always a few miles inland. Despite her early eagerness for the journey, Aurora soon tired of riding. The pace they kept was more rapid than she’d ever maintained for any length of time, and she was weary of the tasteless traveling food and of always being dirty.

  They stopped occasionally at settlements of the local people, although they were hardly proper towns or even villages. The small, dark people stared at them wild-eyed. Although a few of them ventured to speak with Maelgwn and his men, they viewed Aurora with awe. In these desolate places, even the young women were hollow-eyed and careworn. Aurora realized how lucky she was to have been born into the comfort and security of her father’s household. Beauty did not last long in this harsh place.

  They reached the homeland of the Brigantes. The forest grew thicker and more impenetrable, and several times it seemed they would not be able to get the wagon through. Maelgwn would consult with Rhys, and hours later the men would somehow cut a track through the dense undergrowth. The heavy moist air and the darkness of the forest oppressed Aurora, and she wondered what kind of people could stand to live in this dreary, spooky wilderness.

  At last they reached the edge of the forest and looked out on a valley studded with gray-blue lakes. On one side of the valley there was a high, grassy hill, and on this natural lookout was built a low stone wall with a few dozen circular huts huddled inside. It appeared that Gwenaseth was right—the Brigantes did live like crude savages.

  “This is it?” Aurora asked Maelgwn dubiously.

  “Aye. It is only a summer camp. Their winter camp is further north and has better defenses.”

  As they rode toward the camp, people came out to greet them dressed in brightly woven cloaks and heavy jewelry. The Brigantes immediately reminded Aurora of the Cymru, although they were bigger and even more dramatic-looking. Many of the men were taller than Maelgwn, and the women would have towered over most Cymru men. Their coloring was striking, too. Reddish hair was common, although it was a deeper shade than Gwenaseth’s and not so bright as the Irish slave’s.

  The biggest man came forward to meet them, and Aurora guessed he must be the chieftain, Cunedda. Esylt spurred her horse ahead, dismounted, and threw herself into Cunedda’s arms. The man picked her up as if she were a child and swung her around delightedly. Aurora heard his excited words of greeting but could not understand him. It seemed the Brigantes spoke a dialect different from that of Maelgwn’s people.

  The rest of them dismounted, and Maelgwn greeted Cunedda formally. Several men came up to Maelgwn, and Aurora guessed that they must be Cunedda’s brothers. As Aurora moved close to Maelgwn, one of the men, who had hair the color of a fox’s pelt and eyes of brilliant blue-green, stared at her in awe. Maelgwn saw his interest and pulled Aurora forward proudly, holding her arm possessively.

  “Cunedda, king of the Brigantes, I would like to present my queen, Aurora, daughter of Constantine of Viroconium.”

  Maelgwn had spoken in the familiar British speech, and Cunedda answered him in a heavily-accented, but pleasing voice: “I had heard Maelgwn brought back much wealth from the Cornovii—now I see what riches he has plundered.”

  Cunedda smiled at Aurora in a leering, open-mouthed fashion that both pleased and dismayed her. His dark-blue eyes did not meet her gaze for long, but moved quickly down to assess her body appreciatively.

  Aurora returned their host’s probing look. Cunedda was not a handsome man. His reddish hair was thinning, and his eyes showed too much white, giving him a surprised, excited appearance, but he certainly was imposing. His body was as broad as a tree trunk and his huge hands and thick neck bespoke tremendous physical power.

  Aurora bowed gracefully as Cunedda’s eyes returned to her face. She still felt embarrassed. Esylt’s ease with their host disturbed her, and she couldn’t help wondering what lies her sister-in-law might tell Cunedda about her when she got him alone.

  After their horses were taken care of, Maelgwn and Aurora were led to one of the round huts. The structure was made of hides stretched over branches, with a smoke hole in the center. It hardly looked to Aurora like a proper dwelling in which to house guests, but the inside seemed comfortable enough. A pile of furs and sheepskins in the corner promised a good night’s sleep at last, and on a low table there was a bronze ewer of water for washing, and a pottery urn.

  When their escort had left them, Aurora gratefully stripped off her grimy clothes and started to wash. She had hardly begun to splash her face when she felt Maelgwn’s strong hands reach around to cup her breasts, and felt his warm breath blowing in her ear.

  “Not now, Maelgwn,” she said with a shiver. “I am all dirty and sweaty from traveling.”

  “I do not care. This is a raw, wild place, and I want you as you are—salty and tangy like the sea,” he added as he began to lick her neck.

  Aurora sighed passively, feeling his fingers reach for the crack between her legs and rub her there. Slowly his mouth moved down her body, leaving a wet pathway that cooled in the air. At last he reached the tip of her pelvis, and his hands pulled her thighs apart before he tasted her with his tongue. Aurora stood unsteadily, with her legs supported by Maelgwn’s shoulders as he licked and probed. This was something she must tell Gwenaseth about, she thought dreamily. She was sure that not every man was so wonderfully skilled at this sort of lovemaking.

  Maelgwn knew her tolerance. Aurora could stand the teasing, light touch of his tongue for only so long before she wanted something more substantial within her. He always took her to the edge—left her gasping and weak—and then he knew he could find his own satisfaction in any position he wished. Tonight he pushed her down on the cozy bedplace and lifted her legs up high, almost to his shoulders.

  Aurora was overwhelmed, pushed to the edge of ecstasy and beyond. It was like sliding off a cliff as she surrendered to the dizzying, blind exhilaration of her body. When she returned to awareness again, she found that Maelgwn still thundered within her, and she held on, amazed that he could control his own climax for so long after she had lost herself in the radiant waves of her own.

  At last Maelgwn moaned, and Aurora felt the hot, sweaty weight of him upon her. For a moment she wanted to cradle his burning face against her breast, but she did not. He was too heavy to move, and he seemed content.

  “Did you bring your green dress?” he asked as he watched her wash in the firelight a few moments later.

  “No. It would have been ruined after being squashed in a pack all this way.”

  “Uhhh,” Maelgwn grunted, sounding disappointed.

  “I brought this white one,” she said quickly, pulling it out of the leather bag that she carried her things in. It was simple and showed off her figure well, but perhaps in Maelgwn’s eyes it did not look rich enough to suit his queen. “Will this do?” she asked, suddenly doubtful.

  “Put it on, I cannot tell like that,” he said impatiently. “But wait, before you do, come here and let me look at you one more time.”

  Aurora thought they would never get to the feast—and it was held in their honor. She had not even begun to dress when Maelgwn had pulled her down to the sheepskins again. There was something erotic about this strange alluring place, but Maelgwn’s strenuous attentions had left her sore, and she had barely had time to dress and take out her braids.

  Gwenaseth had been right, she decided, looking down at the dress. The simple style and creamy whiteness of the gown stood out dramatically from the clash of vivid colors the other women wore. With her hair smoothed into a thick wavy mane, she looked more elegant than any other wom
an in the thatched-roofed feasting hall. What would her mother and sisters think of her though? she thought with a smile. She looked like a Saxon, with all the jewelry, and married Roman women were never supposed to wear their hair down in public.

  But then, her family would have been horrified by everything about the Brigantes. Even for this formal event, they dressed like savages. In the warmth of the hall, the men had taken off their furs and their cloaks, and Aurora saw that underneath they wore little—shawls woven of several different colors over one shoulder and short tunics that barely reached to their bare knees. In the flickering light their fair skin writhed with weird shapes and colors, for many of the men had pictures of beasts and patterns covering their arms and chests.

  The men ate greedily, stabbing their knives into the barely cooked haunch of beef to tear off large chunks, which they washed down with great gulps of heather beer and mead. Aurora watched, appalled but fascinated by the crudeness of their hosts. The Brigante women ate separately from the men, and Aurora and Esylt were the only women close to Maelgwn and Cunedda. They had a place near the fireplace, and their food had been brought to them in trenchers so that they did not have to tear at the carcass like animals. Still, Aurora felt awkward, sitting on the floor, trying to balance her cup as she took a bite.

  The hall was smoky and full of menace, and Aurora was glad to have Maelgwn’s reassuring presence so near. She watched her husband carefully. Maelgwn looked relaxed and at ease, but she knew that nothing escaped his keen eyes. For once he was not the biggest man at the gathering, but it did not matter. The aura of power and kingship marked him as clearly as if he wore it as a mantle.

  Esylt, on the other hand, fit right in with the uncouth Brigantes, Aurora noted with disgust. Her sister-in-law was sharing a cup of mead and some ribald jest with Cunedda. In the crowded atmosphere of the hall, Aurora was only inches away from her enemy. She watched surreptitiously as Esylt moved her jeweled hands over Cunedda’s bulky body. The man obviously enjoyed her lewd attentions, and in a moment, he began to return them—sliding his reddish, raw-boned fingers into the neck of Esylt’s gown.