The Beast of Caer Baddan

by Rebecca Vaughn

  “It is not right,” Britu said. “When I wished to do the same to the Gewissae nine months ago when they were a threat to Atrebat, you said not to be blood thirsty. They too were a bane to Albion, and a worse one even than the Deisi Eire are now.”

  “I accept the rebuke, Clansman,” Swale replied. “And am humbled by your words. I should not have criticized you.”

  “Thank you, Clansman,” Britu replied.

  “But I still stand by these words now. We should march into Dyfed.”

  “What says the dominae to this?” Britu said, trying to direct the conversation away from himself.

  Owain felt their eyes burning into him, compelling him to speak.

  “Last winter, we stayed in Brigantae land,” Owain said. “The soldiers were restless from being so long in the North Country. The supply routes were interrupted. We were cold for four long months. But it was necessary because of the Pictii threat. Here, we would be creating a war. The soldiers would be cold and living from tents when they could be warm and comfortable in their garrisons in the City of Gloui. If the supplies should be stalled even with the short distance, we would rely on Gwent for food, and this land cannot feed this great a number of extra men. We cannot be sure of what we might gain by such an adventure. Shall we cross in and find storehouses of food? Or shall the Deisi burn anything they cannot carry so that we cannot use it? We have had the victory this day for bravery. Let us not find defeat tomorrow by foolishness.”

  “But think of the Deisi women,” King Erb said.

  Swale laughed and nudged Annon, who looked embarrassed by the implications. For now that he had fought in a battle, he could take a prisoner.

  “My wife and children are with my father in Baddan,” Owain replied “They are waiting for me to return. Swale’s parents, and wife, and children are in Ewyas, expecting his arrival. Britu’s parents and sister are in Atrebat, and shall soon demand his attention. Nothing is gained by marching into Deisi land at the very start of the Month of Ianuarius. To the contrary, much is lost.”

  “You are the dominae,” Swale replied, willing to give in.

  They spoke of other things then, until Owain excused himself and went out towards his own tent.

  The soldiers were dancing around the fires, laughing, and feasting on a winter’s slaughter of beef. Owain smiled at their fun, wishing that he was that carefree, but his heart was still heavy for his mother.

  He felt that he had forgotten her and her sacrifice as he bemoaned himself his scars. He knew now that what he had always wanted from her was forgiveness. He wished for her to be proud of him and feel that her efforts were not in vain. He felt that she could see him through his struggles and the guilt of his action now weighted his shoulders because of that.

  “Garrick!” a voice cried. “Get more water.”

  Owain’s ear perked at the name. He turned around to see a boy about eleven, with shaved head and downcast blue eyes. A water bucket was in his hand, and a slave collar was fastened around his neck.

  Owain put out a hand and caught the boy in his tracks.

  “Garrick is it?” Owain said in Saxon.

  The boy’s face swelled with fright, and his words were stammered as he tried to speak.

  “Y-yea, good sir,” he said.

  “Where are you from?” Owain asked.

  “Anlofton, good sir,” the boy replied.

  “What is your mother’s name?”

  “Redburga, good sir.”

  In an instant, Owain knew where he had heard that name, for Leola had spoken of her cousin just a few days before.

  “Where are your elder brothers?” Owain asked.

  The boy turned green from fright.

  “Tell me where your brothers are,” Owain said. His voice became soft and gentle as he spoke.

  “They’re dead!” the boy cried. “Their heads were cut off and thrown into a pit, and their bodies burned!”

  “Garrick!” said a harsh voice.

  Garrick jumped at the sound of his name.

  Owain looked up to see Sir Vesanus coming up towards them.

  “Prince Owain,” the knight said in a mixture of surprise and fear. He bowed. “I hope the boy is not bothering you, Dominae.”

  “No worry of that, Sir Vesanus,” Owain said. “Your slave?”

  “He is.”

  “I shall give you a thousand denarii for him.”

  “What?” Sir Vesanus cried, in shock. “You do not mean that, Dominae! The boy cannot be worth half that amount!”

  “He’s worth that to me,” Owain replied, placing a protective hand on Garrick's shoulder.

  “As you please, Dominae.”

  “Thank you. I’ll send Leir to you with the money. God keep you.”

  And he directed the boy away.

  Owain stood on the edge of camp, his eyes gazing out at the sliver of light that would soon be the dawn. He did not move when an even step came up behind him.

  “And I believed myself to be an early riser,” came King Erb’s low bellowing voice.

  “I always wake before sunrise,” Owain said.

  He thought on how he hardly slept since he had returned to himself in the hermit’s tiny earthen hut.

  “You wished to speak to me, Dominae?” King Erb asked.

  “Why did the Deisi attack your land?” Owain asked.

  “They are Eire,” the Silurae king said.

  “The Eire battle when everyone else does,” Owain replied. “In spring, summer, and the very start of fall. This is winter. No one begins a war at the beginning of Ianuarius unless they absolutely must.”

  “Perhaps they thought me weak at this time.”

  “I have killed over a thousand soldiers, hundreds of knights and princes,” he looked into the man’s eyes, “and one king. You are my mother’s clansman, and for that I respect you, but do not think I shall allow you to disrespect my Army.”

  “Of course not, Dominae,” the king replied, in haste. “It is the Demetae king’s daughter, Lady Gweldyr.”

  This was the answer that Owain had expected, for in his heart, he knew that some unfortunate circumstance must be the root of this entire catastrophe.

  “What about her?” he asked.

  “I took her for my son Nynniaw,” King Erb replied.

  Now Owain was truly amazed. Of all the utterly foolish things a king could do, surely this was monumental.

  “You kidnapped a three-year-old girl,” he said, “for your three-year-old son.”

  “I did not realize that the Deisi would see it as an affront!” the king cried. “Apparently, she was promised in secret to one of the Deisi princes.”

  Owain looked out into the field, still white from the night’s new fallen snow. The blood and death of the battle was covered but not gone. It would never actually disappear.

  “I had the numbers from Swale very late last night,” Owain said. “I have lost one hundred and seven soldiers, three knights, and fourteen war ponies, and all because you wish to find a wife for your son who cannot marry for twelve more years.”

  “Forgive me, Dominae-”

  Owain thought how silly and unnecessary the carnage was. Prior to his death, Owain would have executed King Erb in the name of the emperor for destroying the peace. But now, he knew that he himself was in need of pardon, and so being, he would forgive the foolish king.

  “You must return Lady Gweldyr to her family today,” he said. “And you must pay the death price to each of the families of the knights.”

  “Of course!” the king cried. “Anything at all. I shall.”

  “Good.”

  Owain put his back to the Silurae king and walked to his tent.

  Chapter Forty Eight: A Princess for the People

  Gytha was doing Leola’s hair when the steward came in with news of a visitor.

  “Princess,” he said. “Lord Bodvoc is here, but the king is still out. The lord says it is urgent, so I did not want to send him away without your permission.”

&
nbsp; Leola was surprised at these words. Here was a man who had keep of a vast estate, and he was asking permission of her as to what to do about a ruler.

  I do have power and position!

  The thought brought her both awe and fear, for she was unsure what to do in this situation.

  “Did he say what he needed from the king?” Leola asked.

  “No, Princess,” the steward replied.

  Leola did not know who Lord Bodvoc was nor did she remember his name from the solstice feast, but for some unknown reason she felt that she should discover what it was he wanted.

  “I shall see him myself, Tuathal,” she replied.

  “As you wish, Princess,” the steward replied.

  Leola found Lord Bodvoc in one of the sitting rooms along the front hall. He was quite young, younger even then Leola herself, she was sure. He seemed worried and confused and his eyes showed a resounding fear.

  “Madam,” he said, in surprise.

  Leola swallowed hard and chose her words with care. “I am Princess Leola, Prince Owain’s wife,” she said, trying to speak clearly and control her accent.

  Leola thought she saw some violent quiver of his lower lip as she mentioned Owain.

  “What may I do for you?” she asked.

  “I must see the king-” Lord Bodvoc began, his voice frantic.

  “King Irael is out at this time, Lord,” Leola replied.

  “Bodvoc, Princess,” he said, his voice hurried and frightened as if something would jump out of the shadows at strike him dead. “I am Lord of the Dobunni.”

  Lord of the Dobunni? Instead of Lord Eisu?

  “I... I wanted to tell King Irael that I did not know about the plot to kill him,” Lord Bodvoc said. “I never realized what my brothers had tried to do. I only now heard of it from the captain of the guard, and my sister-in-law confirmed it then. I'm innocent. I swear.”

  “Who is accusing you, Lord Bodvoc?” she asked.

  He seemed unsure how to answer her. “No one is, but I attacked Prince Owain when he came to confront my brother Eisu about it. I know that Prince Owain believes I was a part of it. I fear I cannot go to Corin, to the Meeting of the Circle of Glouia, with this over my head. What if the dominae should decide to take my life as well?”

  Leola didn’t know how to respond. She knew nothing of what he spoke of, but was determined to help.

  “I do not believe that King Irael wishes your death, Lord,” she said.

  “No, but Prince Owain!”

  “I shall speak to Prince Owain of this when he returns,” she replied, and once she had said these words she was determined to do just that.

  “You would speak to the dominae on my behalf?” he asked.

  Leola gave him a reassuring smile.

  “I shall,” she replied.

  “I thank you, Princess,” he said, visibly relieved.

  Leola mentioned Lord Bodvoc’s visit to King Irael when he returned that evening.

  “Tell Owain when he arrives,” the king replied.

  Leola felt badly for Lord Bodvoc, but she did not know what influence she might have on Owain. His acceptance of her at breakfast a few days before did not mean that he wished to hear her opinion on political matters.

  “I'm unsure as to what to say to him, Father,” Leola said.

  King Irael laughed and shook his graying head.

  “What does anyone ever say to Owain?” he said. “He has an emperor's soul and the power that goes along with that. Ah. But he listens to you, Leola. Besides, there is so much trouble in Corin that I am constantly called back there. I might not be here when he arrives, and such business should not have to wait. Just tell him what you told me.”

  Leola nodded in agreement, but she was nervous over what Owain's response might be.

  The king sat down in a comfortable chair by the fireplace and closed his eyes, listening to Gratianna's gentle strumming on the harp.

  “That is very lovely, Child,” he said the her.

  “Thank you, Grandfather,” she replied.

  Leola watched them with pain, knowing that he wished to be apart of his granddaughter's life but was too afraid of harming her to do so.

  The babies, lying on their backs in the cradle, tried to lift their heads up as Leola cooed over them.

  “What big boys you are,” she said. “What big boys.”

  She picked Euginius up and kissed his forehead. Then a rather ingenious plan took hold of her.

  “Here, Father,” she said. “Take him.”

  “Oh no! Not I!” the king replied.

  But Leola was up and standing over him in an instant.

  “Certainly,” Leola said. “Here.”

  She placed the infant in his lap and wrapped his trembling arms around him. Gratianna burst into a spill of giggles at her grandfather's frightened face.

  “Give us another glorious song, Dearest,” Leola said to her.

  “But I only know the one!” Gratianna protested.

  “Then let us hear it again,” Leola said.

  Gratianna beamed from ear to ear as she started her music afresh.

  Leola sat down by the king's side, and laid a comforting hand over his shaking arms.

  “He is very strong, is he not?” she said.

  “He is,” King Irael said, a nervous flutter in his voice. “Just like his father.”

  Leola giggled. “And green-eyed too.”

  When her ears caught Ambrosius' whimper, Leola rushed back to the cradle to draw him up as well.

  “There, Dearest,” she said kissing his ornery face. “Mama is here. Hush now.”

  “Ah,” King Irael, the apprehension plain in his voice. “Don't you think the nurses should take them to bed now?”

  “No, Father,” Leola replied, with a happy lilt in her voice. “See how comfortable Euginius is? He likes you.”

  “This is nice,” King Irael said, looking down at the baby in his arms, who stared up at him with curious eyes.

  Leola smiled as she watched them.

  She was determined to cure the king and felt that this was a very good start.

  Everything is as it should be.

  The next few days brought the Army back to the barracks at the City of Gloui. Owain had much inventory to settle and was once again distraught over the dwindling money supply. Even with King Erb's payment to the dead knights' families and his generosity towards the Army, Owain felt insecure about the next year’s adventures. He paid the troops and made sure that the storehouses were completely stocked, than prayed that the following spring would be more fruitful.

  Owain found Swale's bookkeeping to have been atrocious and had much fixing to do in that regard. Moreover, before his clansman left for Ewyas, Owain ventured a word with him on a different matter.

  “I need to know what happened in Anlof,” Owain said.

  “Oh?” Swale said in some surprise. “Where?”

  “The village north of the Town of Hol, where you took the knights through a day before we attacked the Gewissae,” Owain replied.

  “Oh!” said Swale, remembering.

  “I am the dominae and what this Army does, including the knights do, is my responsibility. I need to know what happened.”

  Swale looked on Owain for a moment as if trying to decipher these words.

  “I took the boys that looked twelve and over as prisoners,” he said, at last. “I should have had their hands bound. How I did not think of it, I do not know. We got about three miles south of the village. All of the sudden, one boy says in very bad Latin that he is the youngest son of the earlmann. Then he starts yelling something over and over at the other boys.”

  “Abrieteest tha Britisc,” Owain said, remembering the words of Sigbert Earlmann of Holton just before he took the man's life.

  “Kill the Britannae.”

  “I did not need to be fluent in Saxon to know what that meant,” Swale replied. “All of the boys jumped on us, kicking and biting, and trying to stab us with these little kniv
es. We managed to restrain about half of them, but the rest ended up dead.”

  This was exactly what Owain had feared when Leola spoke of her cousins being gone. At least Garrick was alive, and for that Owain was grateful. He promised himself that he would find the rest of the boys, one by one, and return them to the sorry Town of Anlof.

  “Have I done wrong?” Swale asked.

  Owain sighed, wondering in his heart if anything was ever correct in war.

  “No, Clansman,” Owain replied. “You did right. You did as you were trained to. You followed the rules. No one can criticize your actions. It is I who have done wrong. I gave the order and you followed it, but I should have never given that order. I should have never sent you to Anlof in the first place. It is my responsibility and I shall remedy it. Come, I shall walk you out.”

  They spoke of other things as they went into the courtyard of the barracks, where Swale's servants and guards were waiting for him. Yet, once the older prince was off on his journey north to his own home, Owain's mind was consumed by thoughts of that sorry village.

  Chapter Forty Nine: A Prince of the Highest Regard

  The whole city of Baddan was alive with excitement. The townspeople crowded the streets and shouted as the riders entered the gates.

  “Owain! Owain! Owain!” they cried.

  They chanted this the entire time that Owain passed by and made his way to the castle.

  Once through the castle gates, Owain found a company of servants waiting and cheering as loudly as the city had been.

  “Owain! Owain! Owain!”

  Owain, Britu, and Annon dismounted and left their ponies for the servants to tend to. Owain called Garrick to his side and told him to follow as they went inside.

  “God keep you, Prince,” the steward said, bowing to Owain. “A stunning victory?”

  “We slaughtered them,” Annon said, eagerly.

  “Prince Annon and Prince Britu are here with me, Tuathal,” Owain said. “Prince Swale has gone back to Ewyas but might be with us for the feast.”

  “Excellent,” the steward replied. “I shall have the rooms ready for them. Your father has been in Caer Corin for the week but shall return tomorrow.”