The flames leapt so high in the hearth that I soon began to feel a little too hot and loosened my tunic at the neck. A group of small children ran into the hall, dodging between the trestle tables shouting, a dog in hot pursuit and I looked up, suddenly realising that I had been missing the constant noise of my younger siblings.
‘Quiet,’ yelled Cadafael, turning a dark countenance upon them but although the children quieted a little, the dog barked all the more. My lips twitched. My husband narrowed his eyes and I laughed aloud, the sound escaping before I could prevent it.
One of the children, taking refuge from his fellows, ran to me and playfully grabbed my skirts, hiding behind my legs. He was laughing, his face red, his hound at his heel beating a tattoo upon my knee with his tail. The boy and his dog ran in a circle round and around me while Cadafael looked on with a thunderous expression.
‘Get that child away from the queen,’ he yelled and the young servant girl ran forward.
‘No, no,’ I held out my hand. ‘It is quite alright, I love children.’ I sat down and, scooping the boy onto my knee, put a hand to the dog’s head to quiet it.
‘What are you called?’ I asked the boy. He was about three, a fat, sturdy child who reminded me of my youngest brother, Gwion. He leaned his head against my breast, his heart beating rapidly beneath my hand.
‘Twm,’ he said and wiped his nose on his sleeve. His companions watched from the other side of the table.
‘Well, Twm,’ I said, ‘I think it best you all quieten down a little now, it won’t do to anger the King on his first evening home.’
A glance at Cadafael told me his temper was cooling. He lifted his chin and made his way across the hall toward us and at his approach the child wriggled under my hands.
‘Children suit you, Madam; I look forward to seeing you with offspring of your own.’ I flushed and allowed the boy to slide from my knee. Once free, he ran back to the other end of the hall to where his playmates waited.
I wanted children of course, all women did, but the conception of them was something I certainly did not welcome. Cadafael may be tall and handsome but he was an ungentle and selfish lover, although I would never have realised the fact had I not once been loved by a better man.
I suddenly became aware that Cadafael was watching me with an intent expression on his face and when I coldly raised my chin, he turned abruptly and quit the hall, jerking his head to his staff. The servant girl bobbed me a curtsey and followed in his wake.
While I sat and wondered what I should do next Ffreur sighed suddenly beside me. She stretched and yawned, overcome by the heat of the fire. Iestyn snapped his fingers at a hearth wench.
‘You, girl, take my wife to my sleeping place and make her comfortable.’ As Ffreur rose he pulled her back down briefly onto his lap and I heard him whisper, ‘Make yourself comfortable, I will join you shortly.’
Two
My own bower was furnished with all I could require. As queen, I was given private quarters, separate from the King. Flames crackled in a large hearth and many torches burned around the walls and a brazier was pulled close to the bed. I would not want for heat or light. I sat on the bed, dug my fingers into the furs and tested the ropes. It was well strung and the mattress seemed to be deep and soft. While Gwawr bumbled about the chamber putting my things away in chests, my combs and casket of jewels on the dresser, I sat on the edge of the bed and pondered my sorry future. I was bone weary and, feeling over warm after the freshness of the journey, I loosened my tunic and wondered if I would need all the furs that were piled around me.
Beside a richly carved chair lay a small harp. I ran my fingers across the strings, immediately regretting it as the sound evoked the tenderness of Osian, sharpening my loss and bringing stinging tears to my eyes. The sorrow that bit deep into my throat was a pain I had come to know well and I turned away from it, closing my eyes upon the past, trying to blank it out and look to the future, as bleak as it was.
‘Gwawr, help me with my tunic, I think I will lie down awhile. I am so tired.’ She shuffled toward me and began to loosen my lacings.
‘It will be suppertime soon, I should think,’ she complained. Gwawr always grumbled if she could but I never paid it any notice for I knew it was merely a habit and not a sign of discontent.
‘Then I will miss supper, if I have to.’ I flopped miserably onto the bed, sinking into the softness and closed my eyes, wanting to sleep but kept awake by my disobedient mind that insisted on reliving every jolt of the ride.
I thought I should never sleep for the noises of the llys were strange to me but I must have dozed off quite quickly because the next thing I knew, I jumped awake to find Cadafael in the room, tossing a log into the flames.
I raised my head just in time to witness an explosion of sparks that leapt up and smoke billowed into the chamber. I coughed and flopped back down again while he took a large bite of an apple and turned to where I lay.
‘Ah, did I wake you? Supper will not be long.’ I pulled myself onto the pillows and blinked at him.
‘Where is Gwawr?’
‘Who?’
‘My woman, Gwawr, where is she? I will need her to help me dress.’
He threw the core into the fire and licked the tips of his fingers.
‘I sent her away, we have some business first.’
He stood at the foot of the bed and my heart began to race as he moved to sit on the mattress beside me. With two fingers he lifted a strand of my hair from my breast and loosened the neck of my shift. Not now, I thought, wildly, please, not now, not in daylight. But I fought down rising panic, trying to still the rise and fall of my bosom, fearful he may mistake it for passion. When he reached out and began to explore my body, I kept my eyes fixed firmly on his face. I watched his pupils darken, his cheeks become suffused with blood as his ardour increased but his kneading and rubbing did nothing but turn my stomach.
When he pulled my kirtle over my head and tossed it onto the floor, leaving me naked, I turned away from him to crawl beneath the cover but he put out a hand and stopped me. He pushed me back onto the mattress and climbed onto the bed, his breath heavy and his movements clumsy. I closed my eyes trying to pretend that I wasn’t really naked in the presence of a strange man in full daylight.
This time the act lasted longer. He seemed more relaxed, more inclined to enjoy and prolong the moment. I lay passive, letting him have his will until at last his grip on me tightened, his voice grew hoarse and his movement quickened. Then I screwed up my face and clenched my muscles hard to make a quicker end to it all.
He slumped down upon me, totally swamping me. He was on top of me, his hair in my face, his torso crushing mine, my nostrils full of his odour, his dwindling ardour still heavy in my quaint. I was trapped, totally and horribly pinioned beneath him while he overwhelmed me, expelling everything that was Heledd and turning me into his possession. His chattel.
When, without a word he got up and wiped himself on my discarded kirtle, I pulled the furs up to my chin and watched as he refastened his leggings and picked up his sword belt. He stood hesitantly before me but still he did not speak. I fastened my miserable eye upon a huge jewelled buckle that glistened just above his groin and waited for him to say something but his words never came. He just turned abruptly and walked away and, when the door closed and his footsteps faded, I rolled over and buried my face into the mattress.
I lay there unmoving until I heard Gwawr’s quiet footsteps. I rolled on to my back and stared at the rafters and let hot tears ooze from beneath my eyelids into my ears. She made no comment but, taking a bowl of warm water, came to the bed and began to bathe my private places. Her cloth was warm and soft, soothing the soreness and dulling some of the pain. After a few moments she began to hum and then to sing, and when I recognised the songs that she had sung to comfort me when I was small, my tears began again in earnest.
Three
645 AD
I had everything a woman could ask for; fine
clothes, warm bed, good food and a powerful husband yet I was miserable in my marriage. I silently scolded myself, told myself not to waste time mourning for Osian for it was hopeless, I would not see him again. He was gone from me and would never be back but I was desperate for someone to love, something solid to cling to and make life worthwhile, and so I prayed, to both the old gods and the new, to send me a child.
That prayer was swiftly answered and it was just three months later that my courses stopped. When first I spoke of my suspicion to Gwawr, she mopped a tear with the edge of her apron.
‘He will leave you be now, child, just for a while until your churching. A man never bothers a wife once she has quickened.’ Her words filled me with optimism. I counted on my fingers. I had six months to go and another month before my churching. Seven months without the burden of Cadafael’s lust. It was like a gift from the gods.
Just to be free of his clumsy lovemaking I told my husband I had quickened as soon as I could but for the first time ever, Gwarw was wrong. To my great disappointment he kept on coming to my chamber, night after night, until well into the six month. It was my misfortune that his technique did not improve with the practice, and it seemed he had no concept that I could be given pleasure too. He viewed my body solely for his gratification and it was not until my belly became too grotesque to tempt him any longer that mercifully, he stayed away.
‘Oh, Heledd, you are lucky.’ Ffreur hugged me and then sat back on her haunches, tears in her eyes. She lowered her head. ‘Iestyn and I long for a child and yet, for all our effort, there has been nothing.’
‘Give it time, child,’ Gwawr butted in, putting a tray of cups before us on the table. ‘You have always been too impatient. Heledd is just fortunate. You will quicken in time. In the meantime you can help your sister to prepare for her birthing and learn what is in store for you.’
Most days, as my pregnancy progressed, I grew more irritable and hated myself for my bad humour. My back ached, my ankles swelled fatter than Gwawr’s and I was forced to make constant trips to the privy. Confined to my chambers, I was bored with my needlework and longed to ride abroad, or stride across the mountain top or climb down to the valley floor. Too often I snapped at Ffreur, feeling a pang of guilt when her face fell at my unkind words.
At nightfall, when Gwawr helped me to bed I looked upon the huge dome of my belly and despaired of ever being normal again. She rubbed salves into my stretched skin, the warm penetrating aroma, providing fleeting comfort. The village wise-woman, Ceri, swore that the concoction would permeate into my womb and ensure my son was both brave and wise.
I was doing my duty, providing the King with an heir and all I could do was rail against the inconvenience while with every passing month, when her courses came with sickening regularity, Ffreur grew more and more despondent.
She sat on my bed watching the outline of my son’s foot track across my belly and put out a gentle hand to feel his strong kick. ‘He will be a great King like his father,’ she said. ‘He is vigorous already.’
‘Do you think Cadafael is so great a King?’ I asked. ‘I think he is over-harsh with the people. In times of want a good King should turn a blind eye to small crimes like poaching and theft. How else can a man be expected to keep his family fed in times like these?’
I was becoming opinionated on many things, often moralising on matters I knew nothing about. Ffreur looked a little shocked.
‘But to ignore crime is to encourage chaos, suppose everyone stole to keep meat on the table?’
I flung my legs over the side of the bed and strode impatiently up and down the chamber. It seemed to me that a man who had usurped another’s kingdom had no place to complain of thieves.
‘We have more than enough here in the llys. Look at that table, there is more food here than I will need in a week, yet the common folk are starving and falling sick.’
Ffreur let her hands fall into her lap, her usually bright eyes dark and tragic.
‘I wonder why God lets these sad things happen? If he sent enough rain the crops would not fail and the animals would fatten instead of dying, then the people would thrive. There are some that say that mankind has committed a great sin and that we are all paying for it. I pray daily for God to release the poor from famine.’
‘I think this new God of yours is no better than the old. There is still war and hunger and suffering for all the priests tell us that He is a benign, forgiving God.’ With a glance about the chamber to make sure that my confessor was not near, I drew her closer. ‘When I am alone, Ffreur, I pray to the old mother spirits … and there are many who still do.’
Ffreur was pale, she raised her eyes to mine, brought her head close and whispered, ‘And do they answer, Heledd?’
I laughed and the sound was bitter even to my own ears. ‘I think so. I am after-all with child while you remain barren.’
Her face slackened, her eyes filled. Why did I do it? The pain I caused her offered me no easement. I forced myself to acknowledge the truth. I was envious for she had the man she loved while I was forced to bear the child of a man I loathed. I reached out, full of remorse.
‘I am sorry, Ffreur, I didn’t mean it. That was thoughtless.’
She kept her face lowered.
‘I know, Heledd. I understand that life is hard for you. I would be happy if I could bear a child but you, well, I think you will never be truly content will you, even once your child is here?’
Her eyes were penetrating, I looked away, her words stinging, forcing me to see that I was far from the gentle woman I had always intended to be. Dissatisfaction was making me cruel. But I was spared the need of replying when the door opened and Gwarw waddled in, a slave bearing a tray of mead behind her.
‘Put it there,’ she pointed to the table and the girl crossed the room, before bobbing a curtsey and turning to leave.
‘Wait,’ I commanded and the girl stopped, slowly raising her eyes to mine. I had seen her before but she did not usually serve me. There was something different about her to the other slaves, her bearing was proud, although she had no right to be. This was the first time I had seen her up close and I was struck by the clarity of her eyes and her smooth, flawless skin.
‘What is your name?’
She licked her lips, cleared her throat. ‘Angharad, Lady.’
Usually my servants looked at the floor but this one held my gaze as if she were my equal.
‘You do not usually serve me? Where is Hild?’
‘She is sick, Lady. I am doing Hild’s duties until she recovers.’
I nodded and flicked my fingers toward the door to indicate she should leave. When she had gone, I turned to Gwarw. ‘You didn’t tell me Hild was sick. I hope she is not contagious.’
Gwarw slopped some wine into a cup and handed it to me.
‘She scalded her hand and can barely grip anything but she will be recovered soon enough.’
‘That girl, Angharad, she is strange. There is something about her I am not sure I like.’
Gwarw grunted noncommittally and struggled to her feet, insisting that it was time I lay down before supper.
‘I envy you the luxury of rest in the afternoon,’ she moaned as she removed my slippers and tucked a pillow behind my head. ‘Now, get some sleep or there will be no feasting for you this evening.’
‘You can rest if you please,’ I told her in an effort to be kind but she snorted rudely through her nose as if I were still the five-year-old Heledd and not the Queen of Gwynedd at all.
‘I have duties to attend, child, now turn over and close your eyes.’ She drew the curtains about the bed, shutting out the day and I shifted my bulk to a comfortable position, crooked my legs and tucked a knuckle into my mouth, as was my habit.
When I awoke the fires had burned down and although I could hear that supper had begun in the hall, the chamber was silent apart from Gwarw’s gusty snores. I lumbered from the mattress and poured myself a drink and Gwarw, hearing me moving around, snort
ed a few times before stirring and clambering from her chair.
‘I must have dropped off,’ she said, stretching her old limbs and picking up the comb. She wrenched at my tangled hair.
‘Ow,’ I protested, snatching the comb away and beginning to tease the knots out myself. Gwarw grumbled and began to tidy away my things, folding them anyhow and shutting the lid of the clothes press just a little too sharply. As I left the room to join the feasting, I flashed her a warning look before striding along the corridor, eager to join the throng. Maternity made me ravenous and my mouth sprang alive at the smell of roasting pork. I quickened my step, eager for my dinner, if not the dancing.
The musicians were warming up and I was glad to see that I had not missed supper after all. Unnoticed, I slipped through the door and took my seat beside Cadafael and to my surprise, as Angharad leaned across to fill his cup, I saw him reach out and caress her arse. I froze, my gaze fixed on his roving hand. She did not flinch from his touch and when he withdrew she flicked back her hair and tossed him a bold smile. I was shocked. She was even younger than Ffreur.
Cadafael, noticing me at last, raised his mead cup and I gestured that Angharad should fill my own. Then, still in a sort of stunned daze, I saluted my husband before drinking deeply and looking about the hall with my head high.
Despite a twinge of injured pride I did not really care where my husband’s fancies took him, as long as it wasn’t toward me but throughout the evening I could not help but notice how Cadafael’s eyes followed Angharad about the room. His lust for her was obvious and I wondered if he’d had her yet or if he waited his chance. As I tapped my feet to the music and filled my belly with roasted pork, a strategy began to bubble in the cauldron of my mind.
The Song of Heledd Page 4
