The Dragon Lord's Daughters

by Bertrice Small

  Finally, as the night deepened and the air grew very chill, they returned to the hall, leaving the servants to tend to the Samhain fire, which would be allowed to burn itself out eventually. The Dragon Lord looked about his hall, and smiled, well pleased. Two daughters matched, and matched well, to his eye. “Find your beds,” he commanded. “The marriage will be celebrated early.” He turned to his son-in-law, the lord of Everleigh. “I thank you, Rhys FitzHugh, for bringing the priest with you. And he has not complained that we keep some of the old ways.”

  “Being a good Christian, my lord, does not mean one must cease revering the customs of our people,” Father Kevyn said quietly. “It does our Lord Christ no disservice to do so.”

  Maia slipped her hand into that of Emrys Llyn. “Come,” she said low, and led him from the hall back out into the night.

  “Would you seduce me, then?” he teased her, but his eyes were eagerly devouring her beauty.

  “We have had little time alone since your return from Ile du Lac. I would know if you still are certain that you love me, Emrys, my lord,” Maia said softly.

  “I have loved you since time began, Maia, and I shall love you forever,” he told her, and his arms wrapped about her as he bent to kiss her.

  But Maia stopped his lips with her fingers. “Did you say those words to Rosyn and Gwynth?” she asked him.

  “Never!” he declared vehemently.

  “You loved neither as you love me?” Maia persisted.

  “I loved neither at all,” he told her honestly.

  “Then why did you wed? One I can understand, but two wives, and neither loved? I cannot believe your heart that hard, my lord Emrys.” Maia told him. “The man who would do that is not the man I love. I want to understand.”

  “I am ten years your senior, Maia,” he began. “It is expected that a man wed for the good of his family. I am alone in the world as both my parents are gone. I thought I must wed that my family continue. It was wrong.”

  “Why was it wrong?” she asked him.

  “Because the voice within me said that you were out there waiting for me,” he told her. “I ignored my true voice, and did what I thought I must do. I allowed my foolish impatience to guide my actions, Maia. Because of that I hold myself responsible for the deaths of Rosyn and Gwynth. If I had listened to my own voice I should not have wed either of them. Rosyn was delicate and frail, poor lass. She was fearful of her own shadow. Gwynth turned greedy and discontent from the moment our vows were spoken. I misjudged them both, and they suffered for it.”

  Maia looked into his eyes, and she saw genuine regret on the part of Emrys Llyn. “But you are certain that I am the wife for you, my lord Emrys?” Her own look was searching as she scanned his handsome face.

  “I swear to you on the sacred memory of our ancestors, Maia, that I have never before loved a woman, but I do love you. I shall never love another. Are you considering withdrawing your consent to my proposal?”

  Maia smiled up at him. “Nay, my lord Emrys, I am not. But I needed to hear the words you have just spoken. I have never before loved a man until I loved you. I shall never love another, but it was necessary to my peace of mind that you love me, and I be certain of it.”

  “God, what a fool I have been!” he cried.

  “Aye,” Maia agreed quietly, “you have been a fool, but do not fear, Emrys Llyn. I shall not let you make a fool of yourself ever again.”

  He laughed aloud, and then he kissed her cherry red lips until Maia’s head was spinning. “Ohh, Maia, my darling, I have so much love I have stored up over the years to give to you, and I will!”

  “But not tonight, my lord,” and they heard Argel’s voice.

  Guiltily they broke apart.

  “The marriage ceremony will be early in the morning,” the lady of Dragon’s Lair said. “Since I doubt you will get much sleep tomorrow night, I should suggest you both find your separate beds now.” She took her daughter’s hand. “Come, child. Averil will be sharing your bed again tonight while Rhys and the other men sleep in the hall. You will find your place there, Emrys Llyn,” Argel told him. Then she led Maia away.

  He followed sheepishly behind, but he felt no anger towards Argel for intruding upon them. She was right, and they both knew it. As he entered the hall again he watched as she took her daughter up the staircase, and then he joined the other male guests. Lord Mortimer and his son had arrived just as the Samhain fires were being lit. Roger Mortimer teased Emrys Llyn good-naturedly.

  “You have had the advantage of me with Maia, my lord,” he said.

  “What advantage?” the Lord of the Lake asked, puzzled.

  “Well,” Roger said thoughtfully, “you are well over six feet in height, while I am under six feet by at least two inches. You are not pockmarked whereas I must keep a beard to hide the few scars of my youth. Your features are chisled, whereas mine resemble that of every Mortimer ever born. We both have blue eyes, black hair, small mouths, and big noses. Your figure is fit. Mine shows the results of a healthy appetite.”

  Emrys Llyn was laughing now. “Surely my lady is not so shallow as to choose a handsome face over a Mortimer,” he teased back.

  “I fear the wench did,” Roger replied with a grin.

  “There is always Junia,” the Lord of the Lake said.

  “God’s mercy, I must take a wife before that little hoyden is old enough!” Roger said. “Besides, her mother is a dragon. I should not have her in the house, but then neither, I suspect, will Junia.”

  The men all laughed uproariously at his remark. They congregated companionably about the hearth, drinking the Dragon Lord’s good October ale for some time, but then slowly, one by one, each found a bed space, and fell asleep. The hall was soon filled with the sounds of men snoring, and breaking wind.

  Emrys Llyn was awakened on his wedding day by his soon-to-be mother-in-law. She beckoned him silently, and he followed her down a flight of stairs into the kitchen, which was beginning to bustle with preparations for the wedding feast.

  “I thought you might want to bathe,” Argel said to him, pointing to an oaken tub that had been set before the fire. “Let me help you with your garments. I have had your wedding clothes brought.” She aided him to disrobe, and got him into the tub where she washed first his dark wavy hair, and then his lean hard body. Maia would not be unhappy with the husband she had chosen, Argel thought as she bathed Emrys Llyn. When she finished she wrapped him in a towel, and sitting him before the fire dried his hair.

  “I thank you, lady,” he said.

  “You bathe regularly I am happy to see,” Argel answered him.

  “How can you tell?” He was curious.

  “You did not stink of yourself, your hair was dusty, but not really dirty,” Argel said. “And your clothing is clean. I am glad, for Maia has a delicate nose, and bathes regularly. We have a bathing chamber, but this will be quicker this morning.”

  “Then we have much in common, lady,” he agreed.

  “You no longer need my help,” she said with a smile. “Dress yourself. I have put your wedding garments on the rack here. I will go help my daughter. She will be a beautiful bride, Emrys Llyn.”

  He smiled back at her. “I will care for her as if she were a queen,” he promised.

  “I know that,” Argel responded. “If I did not believe it you should not have her.” And leaving him openmouthed with surprise, Argel ran quickly up the stairs.

  Chapter 10

  Argel found her daughter awake, and sitting up in bed chattering with her two sisters. The conversation ceased as she entered the chamber, and a small smile touched her lips. She suspected they had been speaking of men, and while she did not think Junia old enough yet for such knowledge she supposed the child must learn sooner than later. At least a married older sister would have correct information.

  “Good morrow, lasses,” she greeted them.

  “Good morrow, Lady Mother,” they chorused back.

  “You must come to the bath
ing chamber, Maia,” her mother said. “I have already seen to Emrys’s ablutions, and he will be back in the hall now putting the finishing touches on his garb for today. Hurry, now!”

  Maia climbed from the bed. “Yes, Mother,” she replied dutifully.

  “Averil, make certain that Junia’s gown is neat,” Argel instructed her husband’s eldest child.

  “Yes, Lady Mother,” Averil answered.

  “And see she washes behind her neck and her ears,” Argel said as she hurried from the little tower chamber.

  “I wash behind my neck,” Junia said, sounding just slightly aggrieved.

  “When you remember to do so,” Averil teased her, climbing from the bed. “Come on, little one, and let us get ready. What have you chosen to wear?”

  “I have a new gown!” Junia said excitedly. “It is scarlet, and my mother embroidered the neckline and a girdle for me in gold threads.” She jumped from their bed. “I shall look very grown up in it, Averil.”

  “First we wash,” Averil said sternly, and pointed to the pitcher and basin warming in the ashes of the chamber’s little hearth.

  “You sound more like a grown-up than you ever did,” Junia complained.

  “I am a grown-up, little one. Remember, I have a child, and he will soon need to be fed.” She looked into the cradle by their bed where her son, Rhys the younger, lay awake, and playing with his toes. “Let me nurse him first while you wash,” she suggested. She picked up the baby, and opening her chemise put him to her breast.

  “What does it feel like to nurse a child?” Junia asked, curious.

  “Wonderful,” Averil said. “And just right. You know when you place your child at your breast that this is how it is meant to be.”

  “Is it different than when a man sucks on your breasts?” Junia inquired.

  Averil blushed, astounded. “Who told you that men do such things?”

  “Maia said it happens when a man loves you. Is it different than having your child at your breast?” she asked again.

  “Yes,” Averil replied, “and that is all I intend saying on the matter. You are too young for such information. I cannot imagine what has possessed Maia to share it with you.”

  “Maia said I should know, and that as both of you were gone, there would be no one to tell me,” Junia responded innocently.

  “Maia is wrong,” Averil said. “You can always send for me, and I will come, sister. When you meet the right man, and you are certain you are in love, I will tell you whatever you need or want to know. My mother, and our lady mother Argel will also enlighten you, little one. Now put Maia’s foolishness from your head, and wash your face and neck. I am almost finished nursing my son, and will want to bathe, too.”

  Her words were barely spoken when Dilys, her serving woman, arrived to take the baby from Averil so she might dress. The two sisters washed themselves in the basin, emptying the dirty water out the tower window. Then they dressed themselves. Junia in her scarlet gown with its gold embroidery at the neck and down the narrow girdle. She had a matching ribbon with which she tied back her dark hair. Averil’s gown was a sky blue silk brocade with laced-in contrast fabric sleeves. The side of the gown was laced, and she wore no girdle about her still supple waist, the skirt falling gracefully. Her golden hair was parted in the center, and plaited, the braids set around her head. She wore a sheer veil with a silver filigreed chaplet holding it firmly.

  Maia dashed back into the chamber, a large drying cloth wrapped about her. “I barely had time to get back upstairs, for the men are all awake now,” she said. “Good! You are both dressed. You must help me now. Mother is behind me with my wedding garments.”

  Argel entered the chamber with the gown and its accessories. She lay her burden carefully upon the bed. “You will not need me to help,” she said, knowing full well the sisters wanted these few moments together. “I will go down to see the hall is in readiness.” With a smile at the trio, she left them.

  They stared at the rich violet gown on the bed.

  Finally Averil said, “If you are dry, Sister, you had best put on the chemise.”

  “Aye,” Maia said, and dropping the damp cloth she had been clutching about her she donned the delicate silk chemise.

  Averil and Junia lifted the violet silk brocade undergown, and helped their sister into it, lacing the gown up the back. Maia made certain that the sleeves of her chemise did not bunch, or wrinkle the long tight sleeves of her garment. When she was satisfied that all was well she let her sisters slip the sleeveless overgown with its gold thread embroidery over the undergown. Averil affixed the embroidered gold girdle about Maia.

  “Ohh, Maia,” Junia said worshipfully, “you are the most beautiful girl in the world in that gown!”

  “You must brush my hair,” Maia said to Averil, but she gave Junia a quick smile of gratitude. She was beginning to be very nervous. Was she doing the right thing in marrying Emrys Llyn? Did she really want a husband who knew magic? What had really happened to his first two wives? How could two such coincidences occur?

  Averil brushed her sister’s long red-gold hair with several quick swipes of the brush. Then she set a delicate chaplet of golden flowers with tiny jeweled centers atop Maia’s head. “From Da. His mother wore it when she wed our grandfather. You will get to wear it one day, Junia. It remains with the house of Pendragon.”

  “Oh!” Junia said, and her face was wreathed in smiles. Then her little face grew sad. “But you never got to wear it, Averil.”

  “Yes I did, little one. I carried it with me to Aberffraw. But I’ve a good man, and ’tis more important than fine jewels as Maia now knows, and you will, too, one day.”

  There was a knock upon the door, and Dilys stuck her head into the chamber. “The lord says the eldest and the youngest are to come into the hall. He will come for the bride in a minute or two.”

  Averil and Junia each took the time to hug their sister, kissing her on both cheeks. Then they departed the tower chamber, and went down into the hall as they had been bidden. Seeing them, Merin Pendragon went to fetch the bride. He found Maia weeping in her chamber.

  “What is the matter, daughter?” he demanded. “Will you go to your husband with a sad face? The priest will think we are forcing the union.”

  “I don’t know if I am doing the right thing,” Maia sobbed, and she flung herself into her father’s arms.

  Grasping the girl by her upper arms he set her back from him. “You will stain my very best cotte with your tears, lass,” he told her. “Have you stopped loving the man?”

  “Naaay.” Maia wept noisily. “I can see myself wed to no other.”

  “Why is it that women never make any sense?” the Dragon Lord muttered to himself. “Daughter, the Lord of the Lake, your family and our guests wait below. Either you are marrying the man or you are not, but make your decision now!” he roared at her.

  Startled out of her hysteria Maia looked up at her father questioningly. Then she drew a deep breath, and said as she wiped her face, “Of course I am marrying Emrys, my lord father. Who else would I have?”

  Merin Pendragon swore beneath his breath a word Maia had never before heard. In fact, she wasn’t even certain she recognized such a word. A vein throbbed visibly in Merin’s left temple, and then he said, “Well, then, lass, come along.” And he escorted her from the little tower room down into the hall of his keep.

  The hall had been decorated in branches of green pine, and late flowers from the keep’s sheltered garden. It was a rainy morning, but candles burned everywhere lighting the space with a warm glow. Father Kevyn from Everleigh awaited the bridal, and with reluctance the Dragon Lord handed his daughter off to the Lord of the Lake. Together the couple stood before the priest, and pledged themselves to each other in marriage. Argel stood between her husband and their son, weeping softly. Behind them Gorawen and Ysbail, their daughters by their sides, stood quietly watching with the remainder of the guests. When Father Kevyn finally pronounced that Maia and Emrys
Llyn were husband and wife a great cheer arose from those assembled in the hall.

  The servants who had been watching from the shadows now began to bring the food into the hall that the wedding feast might begin. There were eggs poached in a herbed cream sauce; fresh trout served on a bed of watercress; there was bacon fried crisp; trenchers of oat stirabout mixed with dried apple, honey and heavy cream; there were newly baked loaves of bread; crocks of sweet butter, plum jam, and a fine hard cheese. A great dish of apples baked in sugar and cinnamon and swimming in golden cream was the last dish offered. There was wine, October ale, a carafe of honied mead, and a jug of sweet cider to drink.

  Many toasts were raised to the bridal couple. The three sisters entertained the gathering with their musical talents, and Brynn Pendragon sang for them in his high sweet voice. In late afternoon another meal was served consisting of roasted boar, venison, lamb, ducks cooked crisp with plum sauce, lettuces steamed in white wine, a pottage of rabbit, onion, and carrots, bread, butter and cheese. There was more wine, ale, mead, and cider to drink. More toasts were offered. It was already dark outside when the servants brought in a dish of pears stewed in wine, and crisp sugar wafers. The guests were overfull of good food and drink. Lord Mortimer had fallen asleep by the warm fire. Merin Pendragon was playing chess with Rhys FitzHugh, and the other men were dicing. No one noticed when Argel and the other women quietly escorted the bride from the hall.

  They led her upstairs to the guest chamber in the opposite tower from where she had slept her entire life. They took her beautiful wedding gown from her, and folded it neatly in her trunk, which was at the foot of the bed. They divested Maia of her delicate silk chemise. Naked, she washed her face and hands, and scrubbed her teeth with a cloth.

  “Come and get into bed, daughter,” Argel said. “If you have no questions to ask of us we will leave you to await your husband.”

  “My sister has explained all, Mother,” Maia said politely.

  Argel nodded, and then each of the women and Junia kissed Maia upon her cheek, and wishing her well, departed the bedchamber.