Dragon of the Island

by Mary Gillgannon

  Taking a deep breath, Aurora pulled the tent flap back and stepped out into the fresh air. The sharp chill of morning was in the air, and Aurora pulled her cloak close around her.

  The guard outside looked at her suspiciously, but when she smiled at him, he seemed to soften.

  “What are you doing?” he asked in a cautious voice.

  “I just needed some fresh air,” Aurora answered politely. “I don’t feel well.”

  “Aye, the last guard said you were ill. He also said you had a visitor—Lord Constantine.”

  Aurora had trouble meeting the man’s probing look.

  She could only hope that her conversation with her father had not been overheard.

  “Constantine is my father,” Aurora answered coldly. “I just wanted him to know that I’m all right.”

  “Gwyrtheyrn was not pleased to know that you had met with Lord Constantine. He wishes to speak with you.”

  With that, the man grasped her arm roughly and led her to Gwyrtheyrn’s tent. Aurora’s heart was pounding. If Gwyrtheyrn guessed her intentions, she was doomed. At best, he would kill her outright, or even worse, use her as a hostage to control Maelgwn.

  Gwyrtheyrn was having breakfast when Aurora was brought to him. For a moment she could not help gaping at the luxury that surrounded him. He sat eating at a table full of food served in fine pottery, bronze, even glassware. He was dressed in a rich purple tunic edged in gold, and his neck and arms were gilded with elaborate jewelry. She could not help contrasting this scene with the way Maelgwn normally took his meals while on campaign—squatting by the fire with his men, eating the same dry food as they, dressed in his old tunic and ragged leather trousers. It seemed that Gwyrtheyrn enjoyed the trappings of a king a great deal more than Maelgwn did.

  “Well, well. Lady Maelgwn, we meet again.”

  Aurora met Gwyrtheyrn’s cold, searching stare as levelly as she could.

  “What do you want with me?” she asked him boldly.

  Gwyrtheyrn frowned. “I understand that you disregarded my orders and met with your father.”

  “He only wanted to make sure that I was well.”

  “Aye, I was told that you were sick—what is wrong with you?”

  Aurora tried to hold her head up proudly. No doubt she looked white and frail—she certainly felt that way.

  “I had a fall from a horse only a few weeks ago. I still have not recovered. I was fleeing Maelgwn even then.”

  Gwyrtheyrn’s eyes narrowed and then flicked over her suspiciously. “You look more like a woman who’s breeding to me.”

  Aurora inwardly suppressed a gasp. How had Gwyrtheyrn guessed? She dared not let him know the truth.

  She touched her flat stomach, and stared back at Gwyrtheyrn with an arrogant glare. “That could not be—I have not been with Maelgwn for many weeks.”

  Gwyrtheyrn grunted, and Aurora knew that it was time to distract him from this dangerous subject.

  “While I’m here,” she said briskly, “I would like to know your battle strategy against Maelgwn.”

  “What does it matter to you?”

  “I have a strong desire to see you defeat Maelgwn,” Aurora answered. “I want to see you grind him into the dirt.”

  Gwyrtheyrn laughed. “What a cold bitch you are—do you hate your husband that much?”

  “Aye. You do not know what it is like to be married off to a brute like Maelgwn—he had his greedy hands all over me ere we were even wed. Besides...” she cast her eyes down coyly. “I have another reason I wish to see Maelgwn defeated.”

  “What is that?”

  She smiled radiantly at Gwyrtheyrn. “The young man who was with me last night—he is the one I truly love. I thought that if I helped you, you might consider giving Elwyn a position of power in Gwynedd.”

  Gwyrtheyrn snorted derisively. “It seems that Gwynedd is infested with traitors—I almost feel sorry for Maelgwn.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “His wife, his sister, one of his officers—it seems that Maelgwn the Great is hated most by those closest to him.”

  Aurora could not hide her surprise. “His sister? Esylt has betrayed Maelgwn? I didn’t know.”

  “Aye,” Gwyrtheyrn answered with a gloating smile. “She is as eager as you to see her brother dead. She thinks that I will let her rule in his place. Of course, I will make sure she has no real power—I would certainly never trust a woman, especially one who is a traitor.”

  Aurora tried to temper her shock. She had been right all along—Esylt was plotting against her brother! She composed her face carefully.

  “Esylt—I’m surprised. When I was at Caer Eryri, she seemed completely loyal to Maelgwn.”

  “Aye, she is a treacherous one. It appears she has been plotting against Maelgwn all along.”

  Aurora tried to be flippant, although her heart was pounding. “In truth, I care little enough who rules Gwynedd—as long as Maelgwn is dead.”

  Gwyrtheyrn smiled again, like a cat that has cornered its prey. “If that is all you ask, then I am sure I can make you happy. I intend to slaughter Maelgwn’s army and take his head as a trophy prize. Would you like me to save it for you—as a memento of your marriage?”

  Aurora could not hide her disgust.

  “No, thank you,” she answered. “I never want to see him again—dead or alive.” She pulled herself up stiffly, and tried to pretend that she was her mother—calm and poised. “You still have not told me your battle plans.”

  Gwyrtheyrn’s gray eyes narrowed. “I will not share my battle plans with any woman—queen or not. Besides, whatever else you are, you are a traitor. Be glad that I need your father’s support, or I wouldn’t have tolerated the sight of you as long as I have.”

  With that, Aurora found herself abruptly dismissed.

  “Come on,” her guard said harshly as he grabbed her arm again. “You are to ride in a wagon at the end of the train.”

  “We are leaving, then?”

  “It would seem so.”

  Chapter 32

  Maelgwn was dreaming. Aurora was beside him. He could feel her warmth, smell the scent of her hair—rich, spicy, exotic. He stirred. It was still early, there was a chill in the air, and the light that glowed in through the tent flap was faint, tinged with rose.

  He got up and dressed and put on his sword and dagger. There was a heaviness in his heart—the weight of sadness—but there was another feeling, too. The tingle of expectation stirred in his limbs.

  He went out, half expecting the grayness of the last few days, but it was clear. The sun rose in the east, threatened only by a few fragile clouds of pink and lavender. It would be warm—the sunlight was already burning away the frost.

  The rest of the camp was rising too. Men were building fires for breakfast. Tents were being taken down. Maelgwn stood for a moment, watching. He felt a surge of humble gratitude. This was his army; these were his men. He had trained them, inspired them. Today he might well lead them to their deaths, and they would follow him without question. He loved them.

  “You are up early, Maelgwn.”

  Maelgwn turned to see the reassuring bulk of his second-in-command. Balyn wore his customary lazy smile, but a hint of worry lined his face.

  “Did you sleep well?” he asked.

  Maelgwn nodded back. “Aye, I slept well... I always do the night before a battle.

  “You think today, then?”

  “It would seem so. I feel it in my bones.”

  Maelgwn said no more, and Balyn felt a moment of discomfort as the silence grew between them.

  “About last night...” he began finally. “I wanted to tell you... that I am sorry. It must be a grievous thing to be betrayed by your own blood.”

  Maelgwn sighed faintly. “Aye, it hurts. But you did warn me, and Aurora certainly tried to, as well. It was just that I hoped...” Maelgwn’s voice grew harsh and strained. “I had hoped that the curse of Cadwallon was finally over.”

  “Perhaps it
is now,” Balyn said gently. “There is only one eagle left in the nest, and, the gods willing, he will rule for many years.”

  Maelgwn gave Balyn a quick, sharp glance, and Balyn knew he was thinking of the battle to come.

  “So, my king, what is the battle plan?”

  Maelgwn pointed. “We will march down into the valley and wait for them there.”

  “It seems risky,” Balyn murmured. “With the foothills behind us, we will have no way to retreat.”

  Maelgwn shook his head. “There is no retreat. We either defeat them or we die.”

  Balyn nodded gravely. “You don’t think we should wait for Abelgirth’s other forces—the troops from the coast?”

  “We haven’t time. I don’t want Gwyrtheyrn to enter Gwynedd.”

  “But the mountains have always been our best defense,” Balyn argued. “If we waited for them here, we could cut them down little by little with small bands of men attacking all along the pass.”

  “But by then Aurora would be dead... I’m sure of it,” Maelgwn answered in a shaky voice. “If he has not already done so, Gwyrtheyrn would use her as a hostage, or perhaps kill her outright.”

  “But if we go to meet him head-on in battle, he will think we have no chance to defeat him, and perhaps he will let her live,” Balyn suggested.

  Maelgwn nodded, and then he turned to Balyn with agony in his eyes. “Do you think me a fool because I risk everything for a woman?”

  Balyn smiled. “Nah, nah, not a fool, just a man in love. It’s all right. You deserve a chance for happiness, just like any other man.”

  “But I am a king,” Maelgwn whispered painfully. “Am I putting my own happiness above my people’s safety?”

  Balyn patted the king heartily on his shoulder. “It could be argued either way, Maelgwn. If we meet them in the valley, Gwyrtheyrn will have the hills behind him as well. His men will not be able to retreat either. Since he has come this far and grown this strong, we must crush him now, once and for all, or he will always be a threat to Gwynedd.”

  Maelgwn smiled. “Thank you, Balyn. Ever since I met you, you have always known the right thing to say.”

  Balyn grinned back. “Now, if only Sewan were ever so pleased with me. She says I have only to open my mouth and foolish words fly out.”

  “Come on, let’s get ourselves some breakfast,” said Maelgwn. “And order an extra portion for the men too; they will need it today.”

  The wagon lurched forward, and Aurora’s stomach lurched with it. This was worse than riding her horse, she thought miserably. She still had not had a proper breakfast, and her nausea was agonizing. She crouched down, willing herself to feel better. Finally, she gave up and leaned back limply against the sacks of grain that were her companions in the wagon.

  It was uncomfortable riding this way, but at least she was safe. Her bluff with Gwyrtheyrn had worked. He was willing to believe her story that she hated Maelgwn and would be pleased at his death. Aurora felt a pang of painful regret, thinking of her awful words. What if Maelgwn was defeated, and she did not live to tell him how much she loved him? Would he go to his own death believing that she had betrayed him?

  Aurora forced herself to put her despairing thoughts aside. While she and Maelgwn still breathed, there was hope. But where was Elwyn? Was he safe? Had he been able to escape?

  Aurora sat up and strained her eyes ahead to where the main part of Gwyrtheyrn’s army marched. Surely they should meet with Maelgwn soon. She could see the gray and russet hills in the distance—-if Maelgwn had come back from Manau Gotodin when she sent him the message, he could not be far away now. But what if he hadn’t? If Maelgwn didn’t stop him, Gwyrtheyrn would march into Gwynedd and destroy everything in his path. Aurora felt her agonized stomach convulse in fear. So much depended on whether Maelgwn had trusted her at last.

  Aurora touched her stomach, feeling the deceptive taut, flatness of it. It was hard to believe that a baby was growing within her, but the signs were clear. When she had missed her bleeding time several weeks ago, she thought at first it was because she was so unhappy and upset. But now it all made sense—the sickness in the morning, the fatigue that lingered long after her head wound was healed. Still, she had not known for sure until she had the dream about Maelgwn; then she realized that she carried a part of him with her always.

  Maelgwn’s baby—what would it look like, she wondered? Would it have his beautiful blue eyes, his dark, nearly black, hair? She frowned. If it was a boy, it could look like Maelgwn, but a girl like him would seem too much like Esylt. Just the thought of her made Aurora shudder. She had been right about her sister-in-law, but there was no glory in it, no satisfaction. She thought of how hurt Maelgwn would be when he learned of his sister’s betrayal. Aurora’s heart went out to her husband. She did not want him to suffer again because of Esylt.

  Aurora craned her neck to look ahead to where the long river of soldiers ended on the horizon. She must keep her wits about her. If the armies met today she would have to try and get away, to escape and find her way back to Maelgwn.

  They traveled on—a bouncing, jarring, tedious ride. At midday, Aurora was able to coax the wagon driver into getting her some water. She drank it greedily and ate some dried meat and hard cheese from her pack. The food and drink soothed her stomach, but her heart was still gripped with icy fear.

  The day was sunny and unseasonably mild. They had crossed a long stretch of hilly country, and there was no sign of the Cymru army. Aurora could not help feeling anxious as she saw that the army ahead was fast outstripping the supply wagons. They were being left behind, and it seemed her chances of rescue grew more and more remote.

  It was well into the afternoon when—like a cry on the wind—word came that the battle was engaged. The two armies had finally met. Aurora waited, feeling terrified and useless. From where she was, stuck in the back behind the supply lines, she could tell next to nothing about the direction the battle was going. All that was visible ahead was a swarming blackness, accompanied by the dim, indistinct sound of violence. The wagon driver waited with her apathetically, and Aurora decided that he was a slave, and like Marcus, cared little who won and whether his ownership changed hands.

  It seemed like hours that Aurora lay back on the hard, bumpy grain bags, praying to whatever gods she thought would listen. The sun beat down, and Aurora could hear the faint whistle of the wind across the frozen grasslands. If you ignored the distant battle sounds, everything around them was still and silent, and except for an occasional raven flying overhead to join the battle feast, no signs of life stirred over the brown and gray hills. Aurora could feel death in the air, and she imagined Maelgwn’s face in her mind, willing him to live, to come back to her.

  The sun was slipping toward the horizon and the line of stalled wagons cast long dark shadows across the hills when Aurora saw a lone horseman riding toward her. She sat up quickly, hardly daring to breathe—it looked like Elwyn. Then, in a second, Aurora left the wagon and went running toward him.

  “Elwyn, Elwyn!” she cried. “What is happening? How goes the battle?”

  Elwyn shook his head grimly. His face was white beneath the smudges of dirt that marked it.

  “It is awful, Aurora,” he said in an anguished voice. “The fighting is fierce, and neither army will retreat.”

  His breathing came in deep gasps. “For a long time I could not get away, and then the man guarding me was killed... it seemed to take forever to find you.”

  “Maelgwn,” Aurora asked in a whisper. “Is he all right?”

  Elwyn shook his head. “His banner still stood when I was close enough to see... but I don’t know for sure.”

  “I hope I did the right thing, Elwyn,” Aurora said faintly. “I tried to help him.” She looked up at Elwyn anxiously. “My father’s men—are they fighting for Gwyrtheyrn or against him?”

  Elwyn shook his head again. “I can’t tell. Everything is mud... and blood.”

  “What shall we do, Elwyn? Sh
all we wait here? I don’t know if I can stand it.”

  Elwyn looked at Aurora again with his ashen, frightened face.

  “I should take you away from here, back toward Viroconium, where you would be safe. But...” he smiled at her weakly. “I know that you would never leave Maelgwn... as long as he lives.”

  Aurora reached up to grab Elwyn’s hand. “Take me to him, Elwyn. I cannot wait any longer. Even if I am to die by his side... I want to be there.”

  Elwyn dismounted and helped Aurora up on the front of the saddle. “It will be dangerous,” he said softly into her ear as he climbed on behind her. “I may have to have you guide the horse so I can fight.”

  Aurora nodded, and they were off.

  They rapidly passed the supply lines and moved into the swarm of soldiers. They saw frightened, dazed faces, a skirmish here and there, and dozens of wounded men. The horse shied and hesitated as they picked their way over bodies, and the warm, metallic smell of blood filled their nostrils.

  Now and then someone would try and stop them, and Aurora held the reins in her trembling fingers as Elwyn wielded his sword, striking, chopping and stabbing at their pursuers. Aurora looked away, trying to concentrate on the way ahead of them. She felt her face being splashed with blood. At first it was warm, but then it grew colder as it dried on her skin.

  Gwyrtheyrn’s army was retreating. Waves of soldiers were running at them. Their eyes were glazed with fatigue and death, and Aurora cringed as Elwyn urged the horse through their ranks, slashing out brutally with his sword. There was no sign of Gwyrtheyrn or her father.

  They neared the battlefront. There were more bodies, and the moans and cries of the wounded and dying were everywhere. Aurora wanted to look away, to close her eyes, but she dared not—she still guided the horse. She had never known such horrors existed as she saw: the tangle of mauve and purple intestines spilling upon the ground, faces slashed unrecognizably, bodies twisted into impossible shapes, and blood everywhere, coating the soggy ground with a foul slime.

  But worst of all were the ravens. They were already devouring the fallen bodies, and with their pitiless, glassy eyes and short cruel cries of delight, they reminded Aurora of black-hooded gods of doom. Except for the ravens, this close to the battlefront it was a wasteland, and they rode on unhindered. Here no one was left whole to challenge them.