As he entered the gate, Maelgwn nodded at the guard and then headed toward the kitchen. He was hungry, starved actually.
* * *
Aurora woke with a headache that began behind her eyes and spread throughout her body. She sat on the edge of the bed as the agony flickered through her. Why had she done this to herself? She had always been careful not to drink too much wine at feasts and festivals. Last night she had been working so hard to make Maelgwn jealous she had forgotten to be cautious.
Aurora rose from the bed unsteadily. Her plan had worked so well at first. The hall had been crowded with Maelgwn’s soldiers. They’d come to Caer Eryri for the Lughnasa festival and left their women and children behind in the hills. They were eager to dance and flirt with the pretty new queen, and their attentions had certainly had the desired effect. The few times she allowed herself a glance in Maelgwn’s direction, Aurora had been gratified by the glum, miserable look on his face. But then Maelgwn disappeared, and her game lost its charm. She continued to dance and flirt recklessly, but inside, her heart was sinking. She could not help wondering where Maelgwn was, and why he did not return to the feast. She was relieved when Balyn came to see her to bed.
Aurora looked around the messy room, searching for her clothes. If only Gwenaseth would come to her. She badly needed a drink of fresh water, and her stomach burned with something like hunger. Then she remembered. It was Gwenaseth’s wedding day, and she had told her to sleep as late as she wished. She would have to do without her help today.
Somehow she managed to put on her clothes and untangle her hair. She left the tower and set off across the courtyard toward the bakehouse. The courtyard was crowded with people this morning. Aurora saw several men she had danced with the night before, and they smiled sheepishly at her. Aurora felt too weak and miserable to smile back. She walked on, hoping that food would help her feel better.
When she reached the bakehouse, she entered and leaned against the rough stone walls. Unlike most new buildings at Caer Eryri, which were constructed of timber, the bakehouse was built of stone to lessen the hazard of fire. Even in summer the walls were cool. It felt good to rest her throbbing head and steady her queasy stomach before she went to find a fresh loaf for breakfast.
She was feeling better when she heard the wooden door open. She looked up, expecting to see one of the kitchen slaves, but instead, her eyes met Esylt’s dark-browed face.
Esylt smiled. “I see our new queen has the common touch,” she said delightedly. “Last night she mingled with the soldiers and freemen, and this morning she goes to fetch her own breakfast.”
Aurora held her breath. It seemed best not to respond to Esylt, but to let her speak her hateful, venomous words so she would leave Aurora in peace.
“But it appears that my brother prefers common women,” Esylt continued. “I don’t suppose you wondered where Maelgwn slept last night?”
Aurora didn’t answer. It was clear that Esylt wanted only to taunt her.
“Of course, it is not the first night he has spent with the village whore. He has been going to her for a long time. It seems Morganna and you have much in common, although she does not dress so finely or hold herself so haughtily.”
Aurora dared not meet Esylt’s contemptuous stare. There was not enough air in the humid bakehouse to breathe. She leaned heavily against the wall, praying that Esylt would leave.
“Are you jealous, sweet Aurora?” Esylt asked mockingly. “I’m sure you can find a man to warm your cold bed. You have only to flash your little cat eyes at a man, and he comes running. Of course, Maelgwn will kill you if he finds out; he is very jealous. It seems to be a weakness you both share. So, perhaps it would be best if you went back to Viroconium.”
Esylt glared at Aurora for a long moment, as if giving her one last measure of hatred. Then she turned and stalked out the door.
Aurora barely had time to move away from the wall and lean over before she began to retch, spilling out the sour remains of her stomach on the dirt floor of the bakehouse. When she was done, her stomach felt better, although her head was worse. Esylt’s gleeful voice still rang in her ears. Was it true? Had Maelgwn really gone to a harlot last night?
Waves of shame washed over Aurora. She had to know if Maelgwn hated her so much that he preferred a woman like that to her. She had to find out.
Aurora tried to cover up the mess she had made, scuffing up the dust with her sandal. She hurried from the bakehouse and ran to the small daub-and-wattle house. Gwenaseth greeted her with a surprised smile. “Aurora, I didn’t think you would be up so soon.” She looked closely at Aurora’s white, strained face, and her smile disappeared. “Is something wrong? Are you ill?”
“Gwenaseth, I have to know the truth.”
The desperation in Aurora’s voice frightened Gwenaseth, “Know? Know what?”
“I must know if Maelgwn... if he went to a whore in the village last night.”
“Who told you that?”
“Esylt. She said Maelgwn shares the bed of a common woman in the village and he went to her last night.”
“I’m sure she just said those things to hurt you,” Gwenaseth soothed. “You must pay her no mind.”
“Gwenaseth, I have to know! I order you to tell me if these things are true.”
Gwenaseth looked doubtful. “Morganna is not exactly a whore. In a way, you could say that she and Maelgwn are old friends.”
“Morganna,” Aurora hissed. “Who is she?”
“She’s the wife of one of Maelgwn’s men who was killed in battle several years ago.” Gwenaseth’s eyes were wary. “It’s true Maelgwn shares her company sometimes, but I don’t believe it’s what you think.”
Aurora exhaled a long, shaky breath. “How could he? How could he shame me so?”
“You do not know if it’s true,” Gwenaseth protested. “Esylt could easily be lying.”
Aurora shook her head miserably. “I don’t think so. She knew... and she enjoyed telling me so much.”
“Remember, Aurora, don’t let your pride allow Esylt to win.”
“It doesn’t matter. I am tired of being hurt. Perhaps she is right. Perhaps I should go back to Viroconium!”
“No!” Gwenaseth said sharply. “It could mean war. How would you feel if your father were killed trying to avenge you against Maelgwn?” Gwenaseth grabbed Aurora’s arm and looked her fiercely in the eye. “How would you feel if Maelgwn were killed?”
Aurora’s face was stubborn and hard. “Tell me what this Morganna is like,” she asked coldly.
Gwenaseth released her grip on Aurora. “She is older than you, perhaps Maelgwn’s age. Her hair is the color of oak leaves in the fall, her eyes dark. Her skin is dark too, almost darker than Rhys.”
“Is she beautiful?”
“No, not what most men would call by that name. She has had a hard life and it shows in her face, but her body is plump and pleasing.”
“Why?” Aurora asked bitterly. “Why would Maelgwn go to her?”
“I think at first he went to her because he felt sorry for her. She loved her dead husband a great deal. And now...” Gwenaseth paused, troubled. “It could be that he feels comfortable with her, safe.”
“How unfair he is. He threatens me lest I let any other man touch me, yet he leaves his marriage bed for a common whore!”
“Perhaps Maelgwn is running away from his feelings for you,” Gwenaseth suggested.
“He has shown me naught but cruelty and arrogance!”
“Aye, he has hid his love for you very well, even from himself.”
“Love!” Aurora’s voice was mocking. “Don’t try to soothe me with that foolishness! Maelgwn loves grain and gold—the dowry of wealth and power I brought him. He cares nothing for me!”
Gwenaseth shook her head. “You are wrong, Aurora. Maelgwn does care. I’ve never seen the Dragon run before. He is afraid—afraid of his feelings for you.”
Chapter 22
Aurora lay back and tried to sle
ep, but her thoughts tormented her. It was well enough to say that she hated Maelgwn, but that did not change how difficult it had been to be crowded next to him in the priory chapel for Gwenaseth and Elwyn’s wedding ceremony. She had hardly heard the prior’s droning words—her every sense was concentrated on Maelgwn’s distressing presence. She could still smell the odor of the soap he had used to wash with, and she was painfully aware that he had cut his hair and been freshly shaved. Who was he trying to look nice for, she wondered? Was it for her or for his common slut in the village?
Aurora tossed restlessly, trying to find a comfortable position on the bed. Her head still ached from the wine, and sleep eluded her. The fortress was mostly quiet as everyone prepared for Lughnasa, but the older children had gathered outside for games and races to pass the time, and their shouts and cheers always seemed to wake Aurora just as she began to drift toward sleep. She realized she was hungry, and she thought with regret of the rich stews and fresh fish she had passed up at the feast the night before. Today, there would be no evening meal at all. Gwenaseth had told Aurora that all the Lughnasa participants had to fast for several hours before the ceremony.
A cramp of fear squeezed Aurora’s empty stomach. Tonight she was going to participate in what many people in Viroconium considered an evil, disgusting ritual. Just being there was no doubt a sin. Yet she had to admit that she was intrigued. Would the old gods walk the earth tonight? Were they out there now—waiting in the still mountain air?
Aurora finally dozed, and when she awoke it was almost time to leave for the ceremony. She dressed hastily, selecting a new gown of rose-colored silk that had come from Llanfaglan. She then turned her attentions to her hair, combing it out so it flowed in a mass of dark curls around her shoulders. Aurora looked around the room uneasily, wondering what she had forgotten. She felt naked without her jewelry, but Gwenaseth had warned that no metal was to be worn to the ceremony. It might interfere with supplications to the gods.
Aurora ran down the tower stairs and into the courtyard. It was getting late and many people had already left the fortress. She didn’t bother looking for Gwenaseth and Elwyn; they had gone to prepare hours ago. Out of force of habit, she glanced around for Maelgwn. He was nowhere to be seen, and Aurora chided herself for thinking of him at all. Perhaps he already planned to go with one of the other women tonight, she thought angrily. Good. Then she would not have to worry about him.
The sun was rapidly sliding into the hills when Aurora joined the last stragglers leaving Caer Eryri. The ceremony would be held on the hilltop behind the fortress, and as they neared the open space, Aurora saw that many bonfires had been lit to form a large circle in the grass. The ring of fire glowed brilliantly in the fading light. As they approached, the flames seemed to gain brightness, as if stealing strength from the orange sun that floated in the sky of lavender and silver.
The mood of the people around her was quiet and solemn, very different from the atmosphere of fun and joviality that usually surrounded the Cymru. Aurora’s tension grew; her throat felt dry and her body cold and rigid. She could almost feel the spirits watching them from the violet hills. As they neared the fires, Aurora heard the pounding of a drum, echoing the beating of her own heart.
Once she was within the circle, Aurora saw that there was a large fire in the very center. A group of people formed a ring around it, their hands clasped together, standing very still. The people were naked, and their bodies were painted with strange dark designs—as if serpents were slithering over their skin. As the pounding of the drum quickened, they began to chant and dance around the fire. Gwenaseth had explained that circling the fire in the same direction as the sun moved through the sky, invoked Lugh’s protection and helped to bring his spirit among them. The movements of the dancers were lithe and graceful, and Aurora was reminded of salmon, spawning in an invisible river.
The drum stopped and the chanting ended. The people in the center turned to face the rest of the crowd gathered around, and Aurora was surprised to see that Gwenaseth and Elwyn were among the participants. She also recognized the long beard and plain robe of the bard Torawc as he walked around the circle, chanting in a strange, melodious voice. Aurora struggled to listen, but the sounds seemed to blur together. In the back of her mind she seemed to know what Torawc was saying, but when she tried to remember, her thoughts eluded her, swimming away into the humming darkness. The bard began to scatter something on the dancers, and in his light robe he looked like a flame moving in and out among the naked painted people.
The people in the center gradually paired off as couples, and Torawc approached each of them. He took a small curved knife and carefully cut the wrist of each person. As the blood began to flow, the couples pressed their wrists together, mingling their blood. Aurora watched in awe. So, this was what it was like to be married before the old gods. As your blood was joined with your partner’s, an unbreakable bond was formed between you. Gwenaseth had told her the bond was eternal—even death could not break it.
The handfasting over, the couples took turns leaping over the large fire in the center of the circle so that the smoke would purify them and make them fertile. Aurora wondered if she would ever have the nerve to jump through the glowing flames, even if Maelgwn were beside her.
The drums began again, and the wedding participants gradually moved back toward the rest of the group ringing the fire. Torawc stayed in the center, moving around the fire and chanting. Slowly, very slowly, he lifted up his arms to the sky, as if beseeching the gods. Aurora felt a chill, like that of a cloud passing overhead on a sunny day. Torawc shouted up to the heavens, and Aurora jumped with fright.
At the same time, a dark figure leaped forward. At first Aurora thought it was a stag who had somehow stumbled into the circle, but then she realized it was a man wearing a headdress of antlers. He was naked except for a leather breechcloth, gloves on his hands and a mask that covered his face. The stag man seemed huge, taller than Maelgwn even, and his body was sleek and well-muscled. Aurora felt a stirring of desire mingling with her fear.
The drum began to play a stirring rhythm, gradually growing faster and faster, and the stag man danced, twirling and leaping within the center of the circle with tremendous grace. Aurora held her breath; it seemed that she could see the stag being chased by the hunters, his huge rack of antlers flashing through the trees as the dancer veered into the crowd and then whirled back dangerously close to the fire.
Gradually Aurora realized the people around her were joining the ritual. In the firelight she saw the flash of wild eyes and bright teeth. She was surrounded by strangers with savage, exultant faces. They had became the hunters—greedy carnivores, eager for their prey’s blood. She moved backwards, away from the fire, away from the people crowding forward to join the chase. The stag still veered wildly within the circle of watchers, and sometimes he came so close that Aurora could smell his acrid sweat, the piercing metallic odor of fear.
The hunters chased the stag man faster and faster as he sought to escape from the circle of people crowding around. Closer and closer they came, until they could reach out and touch him. They grabbed him, clawed at him, tearing his skin until the stag man’s smooth flesh ran with streaks of dark blood. He seemed to be tiring, and Aurora felt his panic with a deep despair. He was beautiful, spectacular, and Aurora did not want him to die, did not want the hunters to kill him. She closed her eyes to the escape the horror of it. She knew what would happen next. The stag man would be killed and his blood would stain the grass black.
When she opened her eyes, the stag man had fallen. The hunters crowded around, covering him. A cry went out from the watchers as the stag disappeared, and Aurora was surprised to find that her own voice joined the eerie lament. Tears streamed down her face as she watched the hunters carefully, almost tenderly, lift up the stag man’s bleeding form and bear him away triumphantly.
As the procession moved out through the circle of fires, Aurora found the emptiness within her being
replaced with a strange sense of peace. As if prompted by an inner voice, she suddenly understood the purpose of the ancient ceremony she’d witnessed. The stag man died, but the rest of the people lived. In dying he had somehow saved them, for his death ensured prosperity and fertility for another year. A deep feeling of gratitude filled her heart, and she thought immediately of the Christian teachings she had grown up with. Perhaps Christ was like the stag—for he, too, had died to save his people. Perhaps all gods were one and the same.
Aurora was moved, and she wanted to share what she felt with someone. But the people around her were beginning to pair off or move to the center of the circle to dance. Some of them began to chant; their voices made a low rumbling sound like the beating of birds’ wings, filling Aurora’s ears with a confusing hum.
The fire in the center of the circle seemed to grow bigger. The flames leaped and crackled fiercely, and Aurora could smell the dizzying sweet odor of cherry wood. As she stared into the flames, it seemed as though the licking orange tongues were reaching out into the darkness, seeking to devour her. The pounding of the drums intensified, and Aurora’s fear deepened. She didn’t want to be left by herself in the circle of fire. What if the gods weren’t satisfied with the sacrifice of the stag man? What if they wanted more?
She was sweating, and the silk of her gown stuck tightly to her skin. She could feel herself begin to tremble with fear, and she backed away, trying to find an opening in the ring of people and fire.
Dragon of the Island Page 20
