The Dragon Lord's Daughters

by Bertrice Small

  “I swear,” the Lord of the Lake said, and his eyes briefly met those of Gorawen’s. He could see that she had some small magic about her, and was well respected by both her lord and his wife. Despite its unique nature he found Merin Pendragon’s domicile both interesting and comforting.

  The house serfs moved quietly about the hall preparing the household for the meal. As the wine in the two men’s cups grew scant, Argel was there to fill them up. She took the opportunity to study the Lord of the Lake with a mother’s eye. He was the most handsome man she had ever seen in all her life. He was fair-spoken, yet there was an air of mystery about him that lent presence to his person. And there was something that she could not quite put her finger on, Argel thought.

  “Aye,” Gorawen said, as if reading Argel’s musings. “We know really nothing about him, do we? What of his parents? Why have many heard of him, but few seen or even treated with him before this? And from where does his great magic come?”

  “From the devil, if you ask me!” Ysbail murmured low. “No man is that beautiful naturally. Fair skin, dark hair, changeable eyes. Is he even human?”

  “He is human,” Gorawen said, and she firmly believed her words. “But he does have great magic. Is it inherited? Will Maia’s children have it as well? I cannot help but wonder such things.” Then she laughed at herself. “While Averil loves her Rhys, I think when she learns her sister is to wed a great lord she will have a moment of pure envy.”

  “If our lord Merin will allow such a marriage,” Ysbail remarked. “I can but hope when Junia is grown she will have more sense, and choose a lordling with a good house, good lands, and a fat purse. The dramatics involved in Averil’s matching, and now Maia’s, is most annoying. But our lord will let his daughters have their way in such things. ’Twould be better if he found the husband and they wed according to their father’s wishes. We would all be a lot better off without this love nonsense.”

  Junia and Maia now came back into the hall, and curtsied to the lady Argel.

  “We have prepared the guest chamber, Mother,” Maia said.

  “Then you should have some time with Emrys Llyn, my daughter,” Argel said. “But you may not leave the hall. You will be courted in full view of your family.” She turned to her husband. “Merin, let Emrys go now that he and Maia may be together.”

  The Lord of the Lake stood up quickly, and taking Maia’s two small hands in his looked down into her face. “My love,” he said softly.

  The look on Maia’s face was luminous. A blush suffused her pale cheeks. “My lord,” she answered him, and then she smiled radiantly.

  He tucked one of her hands in his arm, and they moved away from the others.

  Gorawen shook her head. “Maia is in love, and she will never love another. Look at her face, my lord. You will not be able to forbid this.”

  “There is something about him,” Merin Pendragon said slowly.

  “I know,” Gorawen responded. “I feel it too, and so do the others, but whatever it may be, good or bad, she will have him, my lord. And it is a passion that will not die, I believe.”

  “The silly child is bewitched!” Ysbail said. “Oh, I can but hope Junia is wiser when her turn comes to choose a mate.”

  “Junia will go where her heart leads her,” Gorawen responded.

  “The Lord Jesu and his Blessed Mother forbid!” Ysbail exclaimed. “I want a man of substance and good reputation for my daughter. She will not have to be a concubine like me. She will be a respectable man’s wife, or I will know the reason why!”

  The other two women said nothing in reply. Ysbail might attempt to have her way in the matter of her daughter, but both Argel and Gorawen knew that Junia’s soft heart would take her wherever it would, a path that would not necessarily lead to a respectable man of substance and good repute. And they would support her as they were supporting Maia.

  Finally the meal was ready to be served, and Argel invited them all to the high board, saying as she did to the Lord of the Lake, “Our meals are simple, my lord.” Then she seated Emrys Llyn at her husband’s right hand before taking her own place at his left hand. The remainder of the family took their places, but for Brynn, who was late. The blessing was said before the boy rushed into the hall, apologizing.

  “This is your sister’s suitor, Emrys Llyn, the Lord of the Lake,” Merin Pendragon said to his son as the lad took his seat.

  Brynn tore a chunk of bread from the loaf, and asked, “Is that your stallion in the stables, my lord? The big black one?”

  “Aye, lad, that is my beast,” was the reply.

  “Why are his hooves so shiny?” Brynn wanted to know.

  “Because I polish them with olive oil,” Emrys Llyn told Brynn.

  “Why?”

  “Because he likes it, and because it makes him look even more beautiful,” the Lord of the Lake told the boy.

  “Oh.” Brynn had never heard of a horse, especially a large warhorse, who liked having shiny hooves.

  “And it is good for his hooves,” Emrys Llyn continued. “It keeps them from becoming too brittle.”

  “Ahh,” Brynn answered. Now that made sense.

  The Lord of the Lake chuckled. “Your son will be a practical man,” he said to his host. “I admire and appreciate that.”

  “He gets it from both his mother and from me,” Merin Pendragon replied.

  The servants brought in the food, and as Argel had said, the meal was simple, consisting of only three courses. There was fresh trout, pickled eel, and a salted cod in a cream sauce for the first offering. The second was made up of roasted capon, roasted lamb, a large ham, a rabbit pie, and a pottage of stewed vegetables. Lastly came a large hard yellow cheese, and a bowl of pears. There was bread upon the table as well as a large crock of sweet butter. The food had no need of spice, for it was fresh. New cider, beer, and wine were offered as well.

  Emrys Llyn ate with a good appetite and complimented the Dragon Lord on the quality of his wine. Then he told Argel, “Lady, the meal may be simple, but it is well cooked, and most tasty. I cannot complain of your wifely skills in managing your servants. I can but hope your daughter is as proficient when she is running my household.” And he smiled at his hostess.

  Argel smiled, pleased by the compliment, and the sincerity in his tone. “I thank you, my lord, and you may rest assured that Maia is an excellent housewife.”

  The rest of the family waited for the Dragon Lord to say something, but he remained silent on the matter. There was much he needed to know about Emrys Llyn yet, and despite his daughter’s obvious love for the man, their union was not yet fact in his mind. But he had to admit that he was already inclined to like the fellow. His lineage dovetailed nicely with Maia’s. A descendant of Lancelot du Lac marrying a descendant of the great King Arthur appealed to Merin Pendragon. And yet there was something he could not quite put his finger upon that disturbed him about the man.

  After the meal had been consumed, and Brynn and Junia sent to their beds, the others sat about the hearth.

  Gorawen said quietly, “Tell me, my lord Emrys, why it is a fine young man such as yourself has not yet been married? And I know we are all curious as to your age.”

  “I am five and twenty, lady, and I have been wed twice,” came the startlingly frank answer. “Both of my wives died.”

  “You have children?” Gorawen persisted.

  “Alas, none,” he answered her.

  “What caused the deaths of your wives, my lord?” Argel asked.

  “I cannot tell you, lady, for I do not know. Each went to sleep one evening, only to never awaken again. It was disturbing, and very strange.” His handsome face was a bland mask that revealed nothing.

  “Were these women ill?” Gorawen inquired.

  “Not to my knowledge, lady,” he responded.

  “Were they perhaps cursed by an enemy?” she pressed him.

  “Lady, I have no enemies that I am aware of, for I keep much to myself as did my antecedents. We are,
as you know, magic folk. Ordinary people are usually afraid of us, are they not? You have some magic in you. I see it,” Emrys Llyn said to Gorawen.

  “I do,” she admitted, “but you must admit it is strange that two seemingly healthy young women died suddenly in their beds.”

  He nodded.

  “You will understand we are concerned that something such as that happen to Maia,” Argel spoke up. “She is my only daughter, and I love her with all my heart.”

  “Lady, if I could, I should promise you that nothing will happen to her in my care, and I do swear it, but I cannot guarantee it,” Emrys Llyn said. “But the deaths of my first two wives served no purpose that I know of, I tell you honestly. Neither came with a great dowry, nor had powerful family connections. There was no reason for them to be killed. And there were no marks of violence upon their bodies that would have indicated murder.”

  “Magic leaves no marks,” Gorawen murmured.

  He grew pale at her words, and in that moment Gorawen knew that while he might not be responsible for the deaths of his two previous wives, he did know more than he was admitting. And for whatever reason, he was not willing to speak on it yet. Or perhaps never. She considered telling Merin and Argel of her concerns, but decided she needed to get to know this man better before she spoke. Maia’s heart was firmly in his keeping, and Gorawen did not believe anything they said would convince her to refuse this suitor who was as obviously in love with her as she with him.

  “Lady, I know not who would practice such magic against me,” Emrys Llyn said quietly. “If indeed magic is involved then I have a hidden enemy.”

  “Which brings us back to the matter of my daughter’s safety as your wife, my lord,” Merin Pendragon said. “How long ago did these deaths occur?”

  “Rosyn was my first wife. I married her five years ago, and she died four months afterwards. I kept a mourning period of one year for her. Then I sought a second wife. Gwynth became my wife two years ago. Her demise came a month afterwards.”

  “Were these girls related in any way?” Merin Pendragon asked. There was always the possibility that they were the targets, and not the Lord of the Lake.

  “They were neither related by blood nor similar in any way. Rosyn was the child of a northern lord. Her eyes were blue, and her hair light brown. Gwynth had black eyes, and dark hair. Her father was a prosperous merchant in the south,” Emrys Llyn responded to his questioner.

  “This is indeed strange,” Argel noted.

  “Why do you go on like this?” Maia demanded, and her voice had an almost hysterical edge to it. “I would wed him no matter what you say, or what has happened before. We are meant to be together, and I will allow no one to prevent this union!”

  Emrys Llyn reached out and took Maia’s hand in his, stroking it as if to soothe her. “Do not be distressed, beloved. Do you not see that your family is but concerned for your welfare? I am too, though I will not leave Dragon’s Lair without you. We are indeed meant to be together, and I will do whatever I must to make this happen.”

  “Yet if we do not learn why your two previous wives died so suddenly after wedding with you, how can I give my consent to this match?” the Dragon Lord said to them.

  Maia looked directly at her father, and he saw the fierce determination in her green eyes. “If you do not allow me to wed with the Lord of the Lake, Father, I will lock myself in my chamber. I will take neither food nor drink, and I will remain there until I die or until you allow us to marry. If you should attempt to break down the door, I will leap from the tower window.” Then she jumped up from her seat by the fire and ran from the hall.

  Astounded, they heard her quick footsteps climbing the stairs to the chamber she shared with Junia.

  “She does not mean it,” Merin Pendragon said. “Like all young girls she is being controlled by her emotions. In the morning she will awaken refreshed, and this foolishness will be forgotten. She will see the wisdom in our caution. Maia has never been a hysterical girl.” But he himself wondered if he believed his brave words.

  His three women looked at one another, knowing better, but deciding silently as one to approach the problem on the morrow when their heads were clear.

  Argel stood up. “I will show you to your chamber, my lord,” she said to Emrys Llyn. “Come.”

  The Lord of the Lake arose. “I do not know what to say,” he said.

  “In the morning we will solve the problem,” Gorawen told him with an encouraging smile.

  Emrys Llyn nodded. “Aye, in the morning,” he agreed.

  “Ysbail, find your own chamber,” Argel commanded. “Gorawen, take our lord to to your bed, and soothe his anxiety. I need to be alone this night to consider all of this so that the right decision is made for my daughter.” She then moved from the hall, their guest walking in her wake.

  Ysbail stood up, looking somewhat aggrieved. “Why does she always ask you to soothe our lord’s anxieties?” she demanded. “I am skilled in the arts of passion, too.”

  Merin Pendragon laughed. “Indeed you are, my lass,” he said, “but you will harp at me afterwards, and then I shall want to strangle you. Gorawen knows how to please me with both her passion and her speech.” He got to his feet, and gave Ysbail a hearty kiss on the lips. “Another time, my lass, when I am in the mood to do battle with you.” Then with a chuckle he pulled Gorawen to her feet and left the hall with the woman he loved above all others in his company.

  Ysbail shrugged. He was honest, was Merin Pendragon. And he was good to her. She had no cause for complaint. Pouring herself another goblet of wine she sought her own bed.

  Chapter 8

  When Argel came down into the hall in the morning after a restless night she found Junia sleeping on the floor by the fire. She was wrapped in a coverlet, and her little face was streaked with the evidence of dried tears. By her was a willow basket piled with her clothing. Argel shook her head despairingly. Maia was not going to be easy in this matter, and had made up her mind. Her daughter could rarely be reasoned with when she came to a decision in which she strongly believed. Argel reached down and gently shook Junia by her thin little shoulder.

  “Wake up, child,” she said softly. “ ’Tis morning, and the hall will soon bustle.”

  Junia’s eyes opened slowly, and seeing Argel she began to weep as she sat up, clutching the coverlet to her. “Maia put me from our chamber and said she is going to kill herself. Oh, Lady Mother, what is happening? I am so afraid!”

  Argel felt her anger rise. How could her daughter frighten her little sister in so cruel a manner? Maia deserved a beating for this unkindness! “It is all right, Junia,” she comforted the girl, drawing her up and into an embrace. “Your sister is driven by her desire to have what she will have at all costs. She is in love and so has locked herself in the tower, and says she will take neither food nor drink until we allow her to marry the Lord of the Lake,” Argel explained. “She says if we do not she will throw herself from the tower, but she will not, I promise you. She is being silly and foolish because she is very much in love with Emrys Llyn. But your father and I worry that the Lord of the Lake has had two wives who died under mysterious circumstances. We must satisfy ourselves that Maia will be safe as his wife, and in his care. He has much magic about him, yet he cannot explain the demise of his previous wives.”

  “Maybe he does not know why they died,” Junia said innocently.

  “So he says,” Argel responded.

  “I like the Lord of the Lake,” Junia told the older woman.

  “Do you?” Argel found the young girl’s response interesting.

  “I do not think he would lie to you and father,” Junia continued. “He loves Maia greatly.”

  “I know,” Argel replied.

  “But he has such sad eyes,” Junia noted.

  “Why, child, what an observant little puss you are,” Argel said with a small smile. Sometimes innocents like Junia saw more clearly than did adults. She hugged the girl. “Take your possessions
and run along to your mother’s chamber. Tell her I have said you are to sleep with her until this matter with Maia is straightened out.”

  “Yes, Lady Mother,” Junia said, and picking up the willow basket she left the hall.

  “I heard,” Gorawen told Argel as she came from the shadows of the hall. “I had not realized before this what a thoughtful child Junia is. She is nothing at all like her mother.”

  “Nay, she is not. Thank God it will be several years before we must go through this matching game again,” Argel said with a gusty sigh. “First all the drama about Averil last year, and now my Maia.” She sat down in her place at the high board, and waved Gorawen to her place there.

  Gorawen nodded in agreement. “Merin is soothed, and sleeping now. He is very concerned by all of this, and of a mind to refuse the Lord of the Lake.”

  “What do you think?” Argel asked her friend.

  “Common sense would dictate he is right,” Gorawen answered, “but I nonetheless think he is wrong. Maia loves Emrys Llyn, and he her. I can sense no evil, no malice at all in him. His bloodline is impeccable. A match between Arthur’s descendant, and Lancelot’s is perfect. What children they may have!”

  “But what of her safety?” Argel said.

  “I will weave a spell about her that should protect her and keep her safe from any black magic. And being now warned Emrys Llyn will keep her safe from any physical threats,” Gorawen replied. “You know your daughter, Argel. She is as stubborn as her father. More so. She will do exactly as she says. She will throw herself from that tower if Merin does not permit this marriage. Our good lord stands between two large rocks, and the only way out for him, if he does not wish his daughter’s death on his conscience, is to acquiesce as gracefully as he can. It will be our task to see that he does.” She smiled. “It will not harm Maia to go a few days without food, and I know for a fact that there is a pitcher of water in her chamber. It is there for washing, but I believe she will use it to assuage her thirst.”

  “Thank God and his Blessed Mother for your sensible nature,” Argel said. “I remember how calm and accepting you were of Averil’s marriage.”