“My boy, do not be unhappy for my sake,” his father said. “I do not chastise you for anything. You were in Gewisland. There is not exactly an abundance of Britannae king’s daughters there. I could not blame you for it, even if I wished to. Besides, in choosing at random, you unwittingly picked the best woman to be your princess. She dotes on Gratianna as if she was her own daughter, and the child has taken to calling her ‘Mama.’ Leola is a dear girl with a good heart. I have been blessed to have her here. Very blessed indeed.”
“Da,” Owain cried, “you are the most forgiving man alive!”
The king held him and stroked his dirty hair.
“And if you are worried of troubling me for nothing, be of cheer,” he continued. “Leola gave birth to your sons some twenty days ago.”
“What?” said Owain, in surprise. “She- my- my sons?”
He was not sure if that was possible, much less likely, and could not grasp the thought.
“Twin boys,” the king replied. “Very beautiful babies. They are called Euginius and Ambrosius. King Emrys and Queen Madge are their godparents.”
Owain gasped, both laughing and weeping together.
“There, my boy, my little Owain,” the king said. “You shall feel better after a hot bath. Leir!”
The servant was hardly back inside the room when the king gave him the order.
“See that the bath house is heated for Master Owain.”
“Ie, Master,” the servant replied and went out once more.
“There, my son,” the king said to Owain. “Wash this weary off of you. Then go in and see your babies. They are with Leola in your mother’s old room.”
“Sic, Da,” Owain replied.
Yet he did not rise to his feet, but instead, lowered his proud head onto his father's comforting chest.
“There, Owain,” the king whispered. “There, my son, my boy. You are home once more. Nothing else matters.”
Owain could no longer contain himself and clung to his father, weeping.
After a long wash in the bath house's heated pool, Owain made his way down the side passageway to his mother's rooms. His heart skipped a beat as he placed his hand on the door handle. He had not entered these chambers for many years. Owain distinctly remembered his grandmother coaxing him out of them on multiple occasions, but that was before combat training took him into the West Country and gave him a purpose in life.
Now it seemed strange to return to her rooms, as if by going in, he would resume the capacity of a heart broken nine year-old child whose fragile world had just been torn asunder. But enter he must, thus he squared his broad shoulders and pushed the door open.
The outer room looked much the same as it had before, perhaps with a few of the furnishing changed and some of the cushions replaced. The shutters were closed to the cold winter's night, and a fire blazed in the hearth, filling the room with warmth. Owain glanced over at the two doors on the far wall and spied a sleeping servant girl on a mat by the left of the two. He guessed that Leola and the babies were probably in that room and quietly went in. The room to the right had been his mother's bedroom, but in this left chamber Owain himself had slept from ages one to four. It had been a comfortable shelter for an innocent child.
“Now a sanctuary for Leola,” he mused.
She lay there in a large bed, with the covers pulled up to her chin. Her light hair was so blond that it seemed hold merely a whisper of yellow hue. Her face was more smooth then he remembered and her lips more crimson.
When Owain first saw Leola huddled along the back wall of Saxon's great hall, she had been a lovely young woman, and that had hardly stayed in his mind. But now as he gazed on her, his was seized by her radiance, and it would not release him.
Why had she called him “Master” when she knew that she was his wife?
One of the babies stirred, and Owain went around Leola's bed to the cradle. It was easy to be silent in soft slippers, and his movements woke neither Leola nor the two nurses who laid on cots on the other side of the infants.
Owain gazed down at his sons and marveled.
Their faces were small and white like new fallen snow, and their clenched fists were held to their closed eyes. The fuzzy hair on their heads was a bright orange-like red, the exact same as Owain's own mane. The babies looked much like Gratianna had when she was born, only perhaps larger boned.
As Owain's eyes traveled over them, taking in every detail, his heart filled with wonder until it seemed to spill over. They were so perfect that he could think of no words to describe them.
One of the babies whined, and Owain reached into the cradle and drew him out.
“Shh there, my precious one,” he whispered, as he coddled the infant. “Do not wake them from their sleep.”
A little purple cord tied around the baby's right wrist indicated to Owain that this was the elder of the two. Euginius, his father said his name was.
“Euginius, my son,” Owain mused. “But a man must be twice blessed to pray for a boy and get two.”
He touched the other baby's soft cheeks carefully so as not to wake him.
“Ambrosius, my son,” Owain whispered. “You both shall be great.”
When Leola awoke, it was still night and the bedroom was warm with a new kindled flame. Her quick ear caught the sound of Euginius cooing in delight, and she turned over to get up. Her eyes fell on Owain, standing by the cradle and holding Euginius in his muscular arms.
Her first instinct was to attack him, and her hand slipped under her pillow to grasp the handle of the knife she still kept there. It came to her that those were his children too. She had never actually thought on it before, but it was true. And now that he was alive, she would be forced to share them with him.
So, she sat there staring at Owain with wide eyes, as he rocked Euginius back and forth and kissed the baby’s tiny fists.
As Leola studied him in the fire light, she thought that he seemed greatly altered from when she had met him the spring before. Even though he was now clean, shaved faced, and meticulously dressed, he looked ashen pale and thin compared to what she remembered. His lips and right cheek appeared to have been burned with fire, and there was an odd puncture hole on his face. But beyond these, his eyes bore a gravity which she had not noticed in them before.
You are sad but it is from something far more recent then your mother's death.
“Shh, Beauty,” he said in Saxon. “Go back to sleep.”
Beauty? At least that has not changed.
Did he then still consider her dear to him? Had he even thought her dear before when he took her from the mead hall?
She lay back down in the bed but watched him for a long time until he spoke again.
“They are perfect,” he said.
Leola saw the tenderness in his eyes as he looked on them.
“Thank you, Master,” she replied.
Master!
Her own words frightened her.
“My father says they were early,” Owain said.
“Six weeks,” and her words were so hurried they seemed to all fall off her tongue at once. “They are very small.”
“So was I when I was born,” he said. “So my mother told me.”
Leola was silent, thinking about what King Irael had said of Owain’s mother. She wondered how much of it was true, that Owain's heart was broken because of his mother's death. She was certain that even if it was, something else had hurt his heart within the last few months.
Perhaps it is my marriage, our marriage, that has caused this change in him?
Leola shuttered.
“Do not worry for them,” he said. “They shall grow. Now, go back to sleep.”
He laid Euginius back down beside his brother in the cradle, laid a gentle kiss on each one, and went out.
How much everything can change in an instant!
Owain made his way up the stairs and through the passageway to Gratianna's rooms. He found the child fast asleep in her bed and pulled a chai
r up beside it to be near her.
“Ah, my little one,” he whispered. “How I have missed you,” and kissed her temple.
She had always been precious to him, since the day he first held her in his arms and kissed her curly red hair.
His eyes caught the decorative wooden box set on the other side of the bed. The last thing he did before he married Leola was emptied that box of the nonsensical trinkets that had filled it, and placed there things he knew she would love. The knife he had found in the land of the Maetae Pictii, new strings for her harp, and a wishing stone.
Owain did not remember when sleep took him, but he woke to his daughter’s elated squeals.
“Tada! Tada! Tada” she cried. “You came back!”
The child sprang from her bed and threw herself in his arms.
Owain laughed, fighting back happy tears.
It felt so good to just sit there and hold his daughter in his arms. The cares of the world seemed to fade as she snuggled in his chest.
“Oh, Tada,” she whispered. “How I missed you.”
“I missed you too, my precious one,” he said.
“Tada!” she said, looking up at him. “You have ouchies all over your face!”
She pulled herself up on him, so that her own face was up against his, and laid kiss after kiss on his scars.
“Do they hurt, Tada?” she asked.
“Not when you are kissing them, my little one,” he replied.
She hugged him tighter still and buried her face in his neck.
“I'm so happy!” she squealed.
“So am I.”
Chapter Forty Two: Uncertainty
The day brought Lady Gratianna’s full joy over the return of her father.
“Tada! Tada!” she screamed. “I love you! I missed you!”
“And I missed you too, my love,” Owain said.
Owain scooped her up and swung her around the sitting room, to her obvious delight.
King Irael winced and gasped at the commotion, clenching the arms of his chair.
“Careful, Owain,” he said. “Do not... drop her-”
“Very well, Da,” Owain replied.
He sat down on the cushioned bench across from his father and placed Gratianna by his side.
“Ugh!” he grunted.
His body twisted and his hand gripped at his back, as a sharp pain bolted up his spine.
“Tada!” the little girl cried. “Are you hurt, Tada?”
“Sore. That is all,” Owain replied, with a tired smile. “Now, how old are you?” and he gave her a tap on the nose.
“Four!” and she burst into giggles.
“Four?” he said in false surprise. “Are you really? What a big girl you are! Have you been practicing your harp for me?”
“Noooooo.” Gratianna looked downcast.
“Ah, well,” Owain replied, with a casual wave of his hand. “I shall give you a lesson tomorrow. And then you must practice it every single day.”
“I shall! I shall!” the child squealed.
“Tell me what you have been up to then, as you have not touched your instrument.”
Gratianna folded her little hands under her chin.
“I knew you would come back!” she said, in an excited whisper.
“Did you, my little one?” and he laid a kiss on the top of her head. “And how did you know that?”
“Because I prayed that you would not be dead anymore and turned my wishing stone over every night.”
Leola looked up in surprise at the child’s words.
“Really,” Owain said, actually impressed. “The wishing stone I gave to you?”
Gratianna nodded her head an affirmative.
“You turned it over for me?” he asked.
“I did it for grandfather, and he wasn’t sick anymore,” Gratianna said with a proud lift of her chin. “And I did it for Ambrosius, and he wasn’t sick any more. And then I did it for you and now you are not dead anymore!”
She gave him a grin that seemed to fill her whole face, and her large round eyes grew greater still as she gazed up at him.
“Well,” Owain said, impressed. “And who taught you to do that?”
“Mama did!”
“A very wise mama,” King Irael said.
Owain glanced over at Leola to see her reaction, but her head was down again and her own eyes dropped to the sewing in her lap. He did not know what to think of it but that she did not wish to look on him. He only noted it and turned his attention back to his little daughter.
Leola felt a mixture of joy and sorrow. She was glad for the child, whom she had never seen so consumed with happiness. She was glad for King Irael, for she could see how he dearly loved his son. Yet she was also grieved for herself.
Here was a people to whom Leola did not belong, to whom she could never belong, by whom she was sure she was unwanted. For although she was apart from the women of Anlofton, they were still Gewissae as she was. Yet, in this Britannae castle in a Britannae city, surrounded by Briannae rulers, she was the intruder.
I should not even be here.
Although, seeing him with the babies the night before had given her some confidence.
He shall love his sons even if he does not think of me as his wife.
Leola remembered what Gratianna had said about her father's attitude towards her and had to smile at the confirmation of it.
Of course he would care for his sons. He adores his daughter even though he did not bother to marry her mother. But then, what was it that put such agony in his eyes?
Leola did not understand any of it.
Gratianna slid down to the floor and ran over to where Leola sat.
“Look, Mama!” the child squealed. “Tada’s home!”
“He is,” Leola replied, not knowing what else to say.
“He is! He is! He is!” and she danced around in circles until she was dizzy. “Euginius! Ambrosius!”
Then she ran to the cradle were the babies lay. Her voice became so soft as she spoke to them that Leola barely heard her words.
“Our Tada is home,” she whispered. “Smile. You have to smile. Our Tada is home.”
Her hand reached into the cradle and stroked their pale cheeks.
“Careful-” said King Irael.
“There, Father,” Leola said, in haste. “No fear. Look how gentle she is with them.”
“Sic,” the king said, still unnerved.
I shall find a way to cure you.
Leola glanced over to Owain to find him staring at her. She quickly looked the other way back to Gratianna’s cooing.
“Your mother was a twin,” the king said to Leola, as if to distract himself from Gratianna's activities. “Are there any other twins in her family?”
“There is,” Leola replied, and when she started to talk, she could not stop her hurried voice. “My aunt Redburga, my mother’s twin, also had twins herself. She had twin boys, Octha and Osgod, another son, Garrick, and then twin girls, Erna and Ead. I never asked my mother but I often thought that Garrick must have had a twin as well who died in infancy.”
Leola’s thoughts went to the piles for rotting heads where she was sure the boys’ skulls still lay.
“The boys are dead now,” she said absently.
Owain continued to stare at Leola with a long unwavering gaze, as if he was trying to find something revealing within her eyes.
She suddenly thought how alike he was to his cousin Britu.
“You, Euginius,” came the Gratianna's voice. “You look like Tada. And you, Ambrosius, you look like Mama.”
“What is that, Child?” King Irael said, in confusion.
“She is speaking about their eyes, Da,” Owain replied.
Leola was startled by his voice.
“Euginius has green eyes,” Owain said. “Ambrosius has blue eyes.”
“Oh!” the king said in surprise. “Ambrosius has blue eyes. You are right. He does.”
But Leola only half heard these words.<
br />
So what am I, a slave or a wife? I shall not know how to act towards him until I know what he is thinking.
The evening brought Owain no closer to a conclusion about the woman he had married. He watched her, and she avoided his gaze, knowing full well, he was sure, that he sought her attention. This was a game he was both unaccustomed to and certain he would lose.
If only she would look up at him and see that he was the same as he had been before. He was still the man who had made love to her over eight months before, made her blush, and giggle, and sigh. He wanted her to sigh like she had when he touched the soft skin, part her lips as if begging for more when he sucked on them, and whisper his name in that musical voice as she had again and again when he caressed her. It frustrated him that she should now cower under his gaze.
He felt that he was not himself, and had been placed in some other creature's heinous body.
As the sun set, Owain watched silently from one of the windows in his bedroom. His eyes followed Leola from a furious bonfire in the courtyard, which the servants had assembled for no apparent reason.
Her long hair was only constrained by two slender braids from her temples and whipped behind her in the breeze. The baby in her arms snuggled comfortably into her soft neck.
Owain wished to go down to her and touch that neck and run his fingers through that hair. Yet somehow, prudence demanded that he keep his distance.
He noticed the figure of a man shrouded in the darkness by a long black cape. The man crept along the wall, out of the view of the servants and guards in the courtyard, and slipped into one of the windows that had not yet been closed for the night.
Owain did not wait for another thought. He left the window from where he watched, went down the stairs, strode through the front hall, and came to the opened door of the first sitting room.
Leola was standing by the hearth, nursing Ambrosius in her arms. It was clear to Owain that she did not notice the cloaked man who was approaching her.
“There, my dear,” she whispered to the infant. “You shall be strong like your father.”
Owain's quick eyes caught the gleam of a long knife in the hand of the stranger.
The Beast of Caer Baddan Page 29
