by Simon Lister
Ceinwen had often wondered how she would answer the question but now that it was asked she suddenly felt unready to reply. She delayed by asking, ‘Has no one in your family ever mentioned it?’
‘No,’ Morveren replied looking mortified that she had actually brought up the subject so directly.
‘Has Arthur ever spoken to you about it?’
‘No,’ Morveren replied in an even smaller voice.
‘Then how can I know or say?’
‘Of course, I’m sorry... it’s just, well I thought as you were close to Arthur...’ Morveren’s voice trailed off in misery.
Ceinwen frowned. She felt sorry for the girl but she was also irritated that Morveren was unable to recognise that it was because she had been so close to Arthur that the subject was difficult for her too. She looked at Morveren and her obvious vulnerability disarmed her.
‘I don’t know Morveren, I honestly don’t, but if you’re asking me what I think then I think you are Arthur’s daughter.’
Morveren stared at her unable to put words to her emotions.
‘Sometimes there’s a certain resemblance,’ Ceinwen said then added even more lamely, ‘the timings were right.’
‘He’s never acknowledged it or shown any sign,’ Morveren said, hoping Ceinwen could provide some more convincing evidence.
‘Perhaps not but when you were growing up he certainly paid more attention to your village than was necessary.’
‘How do you mean?’
Ceinwen thought for a minute before replying, ‘Did you never question why your family had its own horse?’
‘But that belonged to the village – we just looked after it,’ Morveren said, trying to remember where the horse had come from and wondering for the first time who it had actually belonged to.
‘Or why you had a proper bow when the other children had striplings and twine?’
Morveren shrugged.
‘Or when the Anglians came to repair your brothers’ fishing boat after it came in barely afloat after a storm? Did you think the Anglian war band went around mending every Wessex boat?’
Morveren looked nonplussed. Ceinwen carried on asking similar questions for several minutes and gradually the extent of Arthur’s influence in her village and over her early life began to dawn on Morveren.
‘When Sal and the others abandoned their attempts to get me to marry the farmer?’ she asked and Ceinwen nodded.
‘But Arthur was rarely in our village, how could he have known I was so against the proposal? I think I only saw him once during that time and I certainly didn’t speak to him about it!’
‘You know the answer to that as well as I do,’ Ceinwen said and Morveren looked away uncomfortably, recalling the times when Arthur had seemed to read her thoughts and feelings.
‘How do you know all this about my village? Weren’t you in Branque by then?’ Morveren asked.
‘Ruadan told me. He was always convinced you were Arthur’s daughter.’
Morveren fell silent, she had already said far more than she had intended to but she steeled herself to ask one last question knowing that if she did not ask it now then she probably never would.
‘Do you think Arthur only accepted me into the war band because I’m his daughter?’
Ceinwen had wondered if Morveren would so openly expose one of her insecurities and she was glad she had asked it as it gave her the opportunity to say what she had wanted to say for some time, ‘You’re an excellent rider – the quickest and most skilled in the war band and you’re good with a bow so, no, you’re not in the war band just because you’re his daughter. You’re with us because you’re good enough to be with us. But I do think he always intended you to be eventually at Whitehorse Hill – hence the horse and bow when you were a young child. I think he wanted to have you nearby.’
Ceinwen pushed her horse on ahead leaving her friend to ponder this new information. She had always imagined that revealing to someone else how she felt about Arthur would have come as a relief but if she felt anything it was a low undercurrent of panic. She was afraid that Morveren would mistake what she had said; her idea of love was very different from that of the young Morveren’s, and worse, she might actually tell someone else. She regretted saying it now and wondered how she could either explain it or dilute it enough to take away any significance. Ceinwen doubted that Morveren would have understood the implication of her acknowledgement that Arthur had left her for Morveren’s mother. Arthur had wanted a child, so in a sense, Morveren had been the reason why Arthur had left her all those years ago. She knew that Morveren was not to blame for any of what happened but she was still finding it difficult to forgive her.
She ducked under a low hanging bough welcoming the dappled shade and cooler air as the path wound across a wooded hillside. The well-worn pathway led around the side of the hill and, if her memory served her correctly, to the head of the gorge. Merdynn had once told her that all roads lead to home and she supposed he was right in a typical Merdynn way; this path led to both Ethain’s old home and, in the opposite direction, to his new one in the gorge.
Her thoughts switched to wondering how the battle against the Adren had gone; any day now either the victorious legion would return to Caer Cadarn or the fleeing survivors would ride into view heralding the end of Britain’s defence against the invaders.
She felt oddly removed from those events and her thoughts strayed to why Ethain would have betrayed Cei and what his connection to Merdynn could be. She also puzzled over why Seren and her child should be so important to Merdynn when they did not seem to carry the same importance with Arthur. Ceinwen had no doubt that Arthur loved the Cithol girl with an intensity he had never felt for her, or that he would ever feel for Gwyna, and yet even that was not enough to prevent him from turning his back on her too. She wondered if there was anyone or anything he was not prepared to sacrifice in the defence of Britain and the thought left her cold.
The path veered around the head of the ravine and then carried on across the rolling hills towards the Westway so Ceinwen dismounted and waited for Morveren to catch up with her. Ceinwen heard her before she saw her; she was whistling one of the war band’s songs, the words of which would undoubtedly have made her brothers blush, and the clear notes carried through the woodland. Nearby a bird answered with its own song and Ceinwen listened as one countered the other and thought how far away the war seemed.
Morveren came into sight through the trees and her whistling stopped as she grinned at Ceinwen. The bird’s song faltered in the absence of a companion and Ceinwen heard it take off from a branch somewhere overhead.
‘You’ve made a friend there,’ Ceinwen said as Morveren slid easily from her horse.
‘I make friends wherever I go, I’m just that kind of girl,’ she answered with a bright smile.
‘Well one of your friends is down there somewhere so let’s find him.’ Ceinwen regretted saying it as Morveren’s smile wavered and the trepidation returned to her eyes, but something about the younger woman’s high spirits had irked her and the words were out before she could stop them.
Feeling mean she looped her horse’s reins loosely around a tangle of thin branches and set off along the path peering into the dense undergrowth between them and the ravine.
Morveren just let her horse wander off and she sat back on the trunk of a fallen tree waiting for Ceinwen to find what she was looking for. She found it half an hour later and some way back down the path. Morveren joined her and she stared at the seemingly impassable lattice of branches and trailing roots that Ceinwen stood before.
‘Are you sure?’ Morveren asked.
‘Do I tell you how to ride a horse?’
‘I just mean it barely looks like a boar run.’
‘Nonetheless,’ Ceinwen answered and dropped to her knees. Morveren followed suit and soon they were inching and crawling their way through the thick brambles and bushes. It reminded her of the Winter Wood and just as she was beginning to feel uncomfor
tably claustrophobic the undergrowth thinned and she joined Ceinwen on an outcrop of moss-covered rock.
The ground dropped sharply away before them and Morveren leaned forward to try to see down the length of the wooded ravine. Somewhere below them they could hear the tumbling of water.
‘This isn’t going to be easy,’ Morveren said, peering down and trying to gauge what their route should be.
‘Do you want to go first?’
‘Afraid I’m going to fall on you?’ Morveren replied with a smile.
Ceinwen was thinking exactly that but taking a deep breath said, ‘Just follow me and try to watch where I put my hands and feet. We’ll make for the ledge down there.’
Morveren nodded her agreement but had no inkling how she would be able to watch her as she backed down the steep slope. It turned out to be a lot less difficult than she had imagined; footholds or secure roots seemed to present themselves just when she needed them and although it took her longer she joined Ceinwen on the ledge unscathed. She was brushing the dirt from her hands when Ceinwen put a hand on her arm. She looked up to see Ceinwen staring at the entrance to a cave and indicating for her to go first.
Morveren edged around her on the narrow ledge and ducked into the darkness. Once inside she stood up and leant against the smooth wall of the entrance waiting for her eyes to adjust to the blackness. The faint smell of wood smoke lingered like a memory in the darkness and as her eyes became accustomed to the dimness she could make out a small circle of stones and the remains of a fire in the centre of the uneven floor.
She crossed to the fire and knelt beside it. Behind her she heard Ceinwen come in and squat down inside the entrance as she too waited for her winter vision. She put her hand over the dead fire and not feeling any heat she sank her fingers into the ash and raked them through the remains.
‘Old?’ Ceinwen asked quietly from behind her.
‘Only three or four hours. Not long.’
They looked around the cave and saw that it was fairly small, smaller than a room in a village hut. There was a pile of old straw against one wall and a few items that must have been taken from the village; a bucket lying on its side, a cooking pot half filled with water and a small trough that held a few apples and a cluster of berries.
Ceinwen led the way back out and they sat on the ledge overlooking the ravine.
‘Well there’s definitely someone living here. It must be Ethain,’ Morveren said. She looked across at her friend to see her staring below them. She followed her gaze to the swirling river at the bottom of the gorge and stared in silence for a minute or two at the figure kneeling by the water’s edge. He was scrubbing furiously at his hands with a stone.
*
Seren was sitting at the end of a tumble of rocks that formed a natural quay jutting out into the sea. All around her the restless waves surged back and forth slapping against the rocks and sending broken arches of rainbow-spanned spray high up into the air. She could taste the salt water on her lips and feel its coolness on her bare feet as it welled over the smooth boulder she was sitting on.
She heard her name being shouted and she stood up and turned to look back at the cliffs that rose behind her. A figure was standing at the top waving his arms and she guessed it must be Terrill. The brighter light in the East hurt her eyes and raising her arm in acknowledgement she turned back to the sea. She hoped Terrill would not make his way out to her but knew that he would. She did not resent the probable intrusion but she treasured these moments away from the town and the close confines of the harbour master’s house, which was now home to the few Cithol who had escaped from the Veiled City.
Pressing her hands to the small of her back in an effort to alleviate the constant ache there she stared once more to the western horizon filled with wonder that such an expanse could contain such ceaseless motion. She had heard tales of the oceans when she was in the Veiled City but nothing had prepared her for its mesmerising nature or the sheer wonderment that captured her every time she stood on the shore.
She stared out to the distant horizon where towering clouds billowed skywards like vast columns of smoke and wondered if the gentle breeze blowing in from the sea would carry the imposing towers landwards. High above her a skeletal full moon hung like a pale ghost of winter in the faded blue sky and she longed once more to see the myriad stars strung out across the heavens above the Winter Wood. The sea enthralled her but she yearned to leave the Haven with its accompanying crowds, noise and overwhelming smells, all of which constantly assaulted her senses and disoriented her. She desperately wanted to return to a home that no longer existed.
Terrill watched her lone figure from the beach. She had been spending more and more of her time in the same spot at the edge of the sea and he was growing increasingly concerned for her. He still wanted to think of her as the spoilt and mischievous young daughter of Lord Venning, playfully mocking and light-hearted, but that girl had long since gone and the woman standing among the waves now had a sadness about her that was evident in her every expression. She still chatted and smiled with the other Cithol and she made great efforts to befriend all the Britons they came into contact with but underlying every smile and every pleasant exchange there was the constant sadness that she masked from the others but was unable to conceal from him.
He knew why she came to this place; she needed to escape and to be alone. The Britons, while not openly hostile, were clearly deeply suspicious of the Cithol and Terrill could hardly blame them after the alliance that Lord Venning that forged with Lazure. Seren’s problem was that the other Cithol quietly blamed her for her father’s part in what led to the destruction of their city; that and the harsh truth that Arthur had abandoned her. Terrill understood that only here, at the edge of the sea, could Seren escape the isolation she felt everywhere else; that being alone was the only way to escape her sense of loneliness.
He also understood that her time for being alone was rapidly running out; she was due to give birth in just a few short weeks and that was why he was concerned for her. By an unfortunate turn of fate none of the Cithol at the Haven had either had children or been present at a birth and it was one of the Britons who was reluctantly acting as the midwife. The situation pleased no one and only added to Seren’s natural worries about her delivery.
Terrill uncomfortably eyed the narrow finger of rocks that led out to the sea and to Seren’s precarious position at the very end. He had told her dozens of times that it simply was not safe but she evidently did not share the sense of disquiet he felt every time he stood before the wild sea. Overcoming his nervousness he stepped onto the rocks and began to carefully make his way out to where Seren stood.
Seren sensed rather than heard his cautious approach and sighed to herself. She knew he only had her safety in mind and she also knew that he was perhaps the only friend she had left in this harshly lit world and so she refused to let his intrusion irritate her. She turned her back to the rolling seas and started towards the shore.
Terrill had not gone far when he saw her walking back across the uneven rocks and he abandoned his clumsy clambering and began inching his way back to the beach.
‘You make it look easy,’ he said as Seren stepped lightly onto the beach.
‘Nothing feels easy at the moment,’ she replied as she gently lowered herself to sit on the shingle. Terrill leant forward and took some of her weight as she ungracefully plumped herself down. She laughed at her undignified efforts.
‘It’s impossible to find any position that can stay comfortable!’
‘Unless it’s sitting or standing for ages with waves pounding all around you,’ Terrill said, sitting down beside her.
‘Please, Terrill, don’t start again,’ she replied, putting a hand on his arm.
‘It fascinates you, doesn’t it?’ he asked, gesturing inadequately at the immensity before them.
‘Back in the Veiled City when the poets spoke of the ocean I always imagined it to be just a larger version of our lake. I ha
d no idea how alive it could be. Imagine how beautiful it would look under a winter moon with the stars stretching from horizon to horizon!’
Terrill grimaced at the thought as Seren continued, ‘It would be like the Winter Wood in a gale – a whole turbulent landscape swaying under the cold stars!’
‘I think the sun’s got to you. You should have stayed inside more like the rest of us.’
They were distracted by some shouting further down the beach. Two children were playing in the shallows, splashing and screaming at each other while a dog bounded around them barking frantically but largely being ignored. They watched as the children drew nearer, too caught up in their game to have noticed the two Cithol. Unsurprisingly it was the dog that first realised they were there and its playful barking changed instantly. The two children stopped their game and stood and stared at the two strangers.
Seren waved at them and they turned and fled. The dog, reluctant to leave unfinished business behind and delivering a final volley of barks, eventually followed after them.
‘They’ll never accept us. This is their world, not ours, and we’re not welcome,’ Terrill said sadly.
‘Give them time,’ she replied, thinking that he was right.
‘I don’t think any amount of time will be enough.’ Terrill stood up and offered her his hand. As he hauled her up she suddenly let go of her grip on his hand and landed back down with a thump. She gasped, as much in surprise as pain, and doubled over. Terrill stared at her. She regained her breath and smiled up at him.
