‘What we need to do is this.’
Five
As she instructed we waited until the waxing of the moon before we visited Ceri again. The night was colder than before for it was almost a whole month closer to winter than our last visit. I had begun to vomit in the mornings and my breasts strained taught and tender against my garments. Cadafael had been busy, plotting war with his brother so I had not found the right time to tell him that our loving had made fruit.
‘I can’t believe we are going through with this.’ Ffreur’s trembling hands clutched my arm as we crept from the llys. At Ceri’s direction we were both naked beneath our cloaks and Ffreur was anxious that someone would see us.
‘Hush, do not tremble so.’ I placed a hand over hers and found it as cold as stone. ‘All will be well, I trust Ceri. She knows her art.’
Ffreur shuddered. She did not share my faith and I knew it was only love for Iestyn and desperation to give him a child that drove her on. We pushed on through the shadows, glad when the twinkling of Ceri’s candle showed through the trees. She was waiting at the end of the path and, raising a finger to her lips, beckoned us deeper into the wood.
The ground was littered with fallen leaves and twigs that cracked and snapped beneath our feet. Ffreur jumped at every sound; small beasts scurrying through the undergrowth; nocturnal hunters on the prowl while above us the air shivered with the wings of flitter-mice and an owl called loudly from nearby. We stopped in our tracks to watch as it passed silently, like a spirit, above our heads.
‘Come along,’ Ceri urged and we followed her downhill, through the wood toward a rocky spring where the tree trunks gleamed pale in the moonlight. ‘Take off your cloaks,’ she ordered and I threw mine off while Ffreur, more slowly, let her own slither to the floor so that it lay like a puddle where it fell.
Her waist length hair gleamed silver-blonde and I followed in the tracks of her muddy feet to a pool, fed by a cataract that filtered through the hillside.
‘Get in,’ Ceri instructed. ‘Immerse yourselves.’
The water was cold. We opened our mouths and gasped as it covered our bellies and lapped against our breasts. When Ceri threw off her own rags and waded toward us we did not laugh. She walked upright, somehow ennobled by the strange patterns painted upon the swaying remnants of her body. She emanated an unworldly power, the mystery of the night endowing her with a kind of sacred beauty.
She glided through the water, her face raised to the moon, her eyes rolled backwards and strange words upon her lips. Then she lifted her arms and placed a hand on each of our heads. I cannot recall the words that she made over us. All I remember is my skin trembling at her touch and Ffreur’s wide terrified eyes shining from the dark.
The chanting ceased and Ceri suddenly plunged us both beneath the surface of the pool and held us there with surprising strength. Her hand was heavy. I could not breathe. My lungs began to fill with water and, for a horrified moment, I thought she meant to drown us.
I began to fight, a great gurgling filling my ears as I kicked out, gulping mouthfuls of brackish water. Ffreur and I broke the surface at the same time. Gasping, we clung together, coughing and fighting to refill our lungs with blessed air.
Ceri remained entranced, her eyeballs white, she continued her muttering, stroking a hand over my belly before cupping it over Ffreur’s. She pressed our bodies together and instinctively we embraced. I felt the old woman’s hand on the base of my spine, as though she sought to mould us, one to the other. My sister’s body was like a child’s. She was covered with goose pimples, her tiny breasts jutting forward, the pink tips erect. My own was round, my motherly breasts large and blue-veined with fat brown nipples.
And, quite suddenly, it became clear to me that, in some mystical manner Ceri was sharing my own fertility with my sister. I clutched Ffreur closer, pressing my breasts into hers, wrapping my legs about her. She gasped, her wet hair clinging to my arms, her lashes separated into stars. The wind rose and howled through the clattering branches above our head and Ffreur shook with fear at the screaming powers that surged around us. I laughed aloud, triumphant in my understanding.
Ceri’s voice grew louder, more authoritative, and at her command our psyches mingled, our souls touched. Ffreur and I became like a serpent on a carving, its tail held fast in its own throat, there was no telling where she ended and I began. Throwing back my head I gave in to a kind of ecstasy and revelled with the spirits that danced around us in the watery glade.
Much later, when the wind had dropped and the darkness grown less intense we climbed, dripping, from the water and wrapped ourselves gladly in our cloaks. Ffreur’s lips were tinged blue and water ran from the ends of her hair in rivulets but she would not meet my eye. Embarrassed at the passion that had passed between us, we pulled on our boots and followed Ceri back through the lightening wood. We hurried up the path to the llys and at the door of the women’s bower we said goodnight and passed into our separate chambers, our separate lives.
Gwarw had waited up for me, she grumbled as she grabbed a drying cloth and began to rub my hair. ‘What have you been up to now, child? Look at your hair dripping all over your mantle, are you mad to wet yourself all over at his time of year?’
I laughed gently at her mithering. I was tired but happy with the knowledge that some of the fertility that lay curled in my womb had been shared with Ffreur. I grinned as if I were moon-mazed, gladly bearing her ministrations and her nagging before climbing among the furs and sleeping until noon.
Six
Cadafael held out his arms and I went into them happily. ‘A daughter, this time, I hope.’ He planted a kiss on my head and squeezed me and, although the joy I felt was not the ecstatic bliss I had shared with Osian, it was warm and easy.
‘I would like a daughter,’ I confessed, imagining a tiny version of myself, or better still, of Ffreur. ‘The child should be here by mid- summer, in time for Cynddylan’s wedding, a double celebration.’
He yawned and stretched. ‘Come, wife, let us to our bed. I am tired and the chamber is growing chill.’
Over the last months he had spent more nights in my chamber than not and I hoped he had ceased to visit Angharad. I had certainly stopped providing her with bribes to keep him from me. I found to my surprise that I enjoyed his company. Now that I was no longer pushing him away, looking for reasons not to share his bed, we were growing closer and it was not just at nightfall that I looked for his presence.
I lay on his chest watching the flickering light on the chamber wall, enjoying the way he stroked my upper arm with a lazy hand.
‘My brother tells me Ffreur has quickened at last.’ His words evoked that strange night in the glade when Ceri had made Freur’s child partly my own. Joy in the knowledge unfurled in my belly.
‘It is wonderful, isn’t it? I have never seen a woman so happy in her vomit.’ Our laughter murmured in the dark.
He shifted his position. ‘Good night, Heledd.’ His lips were warm, his beard tickling and when he made to move away, I increased the pressure of my mouth slightly and clung to his jerkin, prolonging the kiss. I was rewarded instantly when he threw off his lethargy, rolled me on my back to love me one more time.
It was dark when I awoke and my limbs were cramped. I longed to stretch them but I did not move for his arms were still tight about me. Feeling safe and more cherished than ever in my life before, I lay unmoving, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.
In the morning after we had made love again, he threw back the covers and, evading my clutching hands, backed playfully from the bed.
‘Leave me, woman, there are things a King must do. You could kill me with too much loving.’
I pouted, drawing the sheet to my chin and watching him with a shameless gleam of lust in my eye. He saw me leering and pretending embarrassment, shielded his loins from my gaze. ‘I said later, Madam.’ He was as coy as Ffreur, his play acting making me scream with laughter. I threw a cushion at him before rolling
onto my belly and stretching my limbs down to the bottom of the bed.
‘Go your way, Husband,’ I teased, pretending indifference. ‘At least I have a fair share of the mattress now. I may lie abed ‘til supper time.’
‘That wouldn’t surprise me in the least,’ he quipped as he opened the door. ‘At least I shall know where to find you.’
My smile lingered long after he had gone, I snuggled into the sheets reliving the dark secrets of the night, relishing the scent of him on the pillows, looking forward to nightfall.
Seven
The small bulge of Ffreur’s stomach thrilled me as much as if it had been my own child she carried. Every day we sat in the ladies bower fashioning small garments and planning the future. Our babies would be born just weeks apart and we knew their bond would be strong, like our own.
‘What will you call him?’ I asked.
She put down her spindle, her cheeks pink with pleasure. ‘Iestyn likes the name Ianto, and I am happy to let him choose.’ Picking up her work again she continued to ply her thread. Beside her, I leaned closer to my work.
‘What if it should be a girl?’
She stopped again. ‘I don’t think it will be, although I won’t mind, but I think Iestyn would prefer a boy, all men want a son, don’t they? If it were a girl, I think I would have to call her Heledd.’
I raised my eyes, feigning humour when really I was very touched.
‘Another one? May the gods preserve us!’
She laughed, her veil falling across her face as she ducked her head to her work again. I relished the gentle smile that played on her face all the time these days. She hugged the future to herself, in love with the child she carried. We continued in silence while the flames crackled in the hearth and the everyday sounds of the llys floated in through the door. Then she spoke again, surprising me with her question.
‘Heledd, do you ever think of Mother?’
‘Of course I do, don’t you?’
‘Yes, often. She was such a lovely, gentle woman. I wish she were here, I could do with her guidance.’
I put my own sewing aside, leaned back in my chair and clasped my hands across the expanse of my belly. ‘Don’t worry, everything will be fine, Ffreur. You will be safe in Ceri’s care, just as I was. And remember your God will be watching over you.’
She did not reply at once and just then, Hild and the children tumbled into the room after a jaunt to the river. Cynfeddw tugged at my skirt, Medwyl at his side, to show me a treasure they had discovered on the hillside and above their high-pitched clamour I thought I heard Ffreur whisper, ‘Will he?’
While I grew cumbersome, my belly rivalling the hills of Gwynedd, Ffreur remained petite, the only change being the gentle rise of her belly and the swelling of her breasts. She had no trouble rising from her chair as I did and her step remained light and dainty.
Cadafael teased me, grabbing my wrist and hauling me from my seat as though he were a fisherman fighting to land a great sea cow. But at night, in the privacy of our curtained bed, he revelled in my fruitfulness, stroking the rise of my womb and my engorged breasts, squeezing tiny drops of milk from my nipples.
‘Ah, wife,’ he murmured between kisses. ‘You are magnificent.’ And when he took me he was gentle, holding himself back, cherishing the babe I nurtured. He had fulfilled his duty. I was already pregnant and he had no need to visit me. He could, at any time, have gone to Angharad or some other whore but he came to me, because he wanted to and I was glad.
Our bed became like a great buoyant ship, floating upon a sea of laughter. I had never been so content and wished it would never end. My times with Osian had always been tainted by the fear of discovery but this newfound love was legitimate, and relaxed … and real.
Even in the depths of my present misery those times can still make me smile for they are the most precious I have shared with anyone. For the first time in my life I was properly happy … for the only time.
But no days are entirely without cloud and soon the threat of war loomed large again. I stood a little apart from the company as the men prepared to ride out once more. Cadafael had expected no more trouble after putting down Cadwaladr and sending him to exile but some of his former supporters were rabble rousing. This time Cadafael was determined to silence them once and for all.
Although I had never worried before when he rode off on a campaign, this time I felt great pain at his leaving and a gnawing, unacknowledged fear that, perhaps, he would not return. Although I did not let one syllable of panic pass my lips, it was impossible to stop my fearful tears from falling. My voice was trapped in my throat, my chin nobbled with grief as I watched him prepare to leave me. Irrational as it was I wanted to claw him back, beg him to stay, or dress myself in my page’s clothes and ride off with him. But, when the time came for him to mount up, I was a coward and said nothing … as a queen should.
Cadafael was bellowing last minute orders at his men. Dressed in battle gear, his fearsome helmet beneath his arm, he bore little resemblance to the gentle man that shared the intimacy of my bed chamber. He caught sight of me cowering by the bower wall and our eyes met. The wind blew his hair across his face and he brushed it impatiently back, sending me a sorry smile before continuing to order his men. Then, his duty done, he turned and strode across the enclosure toward me, his smile regretful as he pushed me into the darkness of the bower, away from men’s sight.
I craned my neck back, taking in the stark outline of his face. He reached out, touched my belly that strained against the fabric of my tunic, before raising his hand to my face.
‘Take care, Heledd, of yourself and our little ones.’
To speak would have been to release all my fear, let him see my conviction that he would not be coming home. I nodded, swallowed the painful lump in my throat, and blinked away hot tears although more quickly followed, spilling down my cheeks. With blurred vision I watched as he swung into the saddle and, with a last glance in my direction, ordered the troop to ride out. I ran out into the dust thrown up by the horses’ heels, I raised a hand but although I watched until the glint of his shield was just a tiny star in the distance, he did not turn around.
Then came the waiting. Weeks of worry, wondering if he still breathed; quivering at each messenger that scrambled up to the llys on a sweating pony. It was a wearisome spring with very few bright days interspersing the weeks of rain. I took to walking on the mountainside, thickly wrapped in furs, blaming my wet cheeks on the capricious wind. As I walked I sang to my unborn child, my only child conceived within the bounds of marital love. I stroked the outline of my belly and craved the man who had made it swell to come back safe.
At the end of April the weather turned on us when we least expected it, blasting us with a final rage of winter. As I stood looking out across the valley, willing the troop to appear on the road, the first grains of snow began to settle on my cloak. I dug my purple fists into my armpits and ducked my chin into my neck.
‘Please come,’ I whispered, as if I had the power to summon him from the clouds. ‘Please.’ I spoke the last plea aloud and jumped violently at a sound on the mountain shale behind me. When I spun round it was to find Hild had come to find me but was too timid to break into my reverie.
‘Gwarw sent me.’ She said apologetically, holding out an extra cloak. ‘She said you are to come now and I’m to take no argument.’
I smiled weakly and surrendered to the summons. ‘I will come,’ I said, letting her fasten the cloak beneath my chin and raise the hood about my face. She took my hand and helped me down the hill toward home for the rocky path that I had climbed with little difficulty was now lethal with slush.
Inside, Gwarw thrust a steaming bowl of cawl into my hands and rubbed the dampness from my hair. ‘You need to take more care,’ she grumbled. ‘If you have none for yourself then have some for your child. Look at you, your lips are blue. You should do as your sister does and stay by the fireside, you don’t see her roaming the hillside do you?
’
Ffreur looked up from her needle and flashed a conspiratorial smile. Gwarw had been nagging at us in this manner since we were children. I knew how to soothe her.
‘You are right, Gwarw, and I have been foolish and headstrong. I swear I have no desire to leave the fireside for a long time. The wind has the bite of winter in it again and I so long for the summertime, when our babies will be here.’
We listened to the crackle of the flames and the wind creaking the roof timbers until a great shout came from outside and I jumped from my chair, spilling my broth down my tunic.
Ffreur abandoned her work, the skein of wool unwinding in the rushes, and we all rushed to the door in time to see Cadafael’s squire slide from the back of his horse. Filthy and exhausted, he forgot the respect due to me and waved his arm back the way he had come.
‘Your lord is coming, Lady. They are some four leagues or so behind me. Make ready for them, we have some wounded …’
I could see from his evasive eye that the tidings were ill and my heart lurched sickeningly against my ribs. I leapt forward, grabbed his arm. ‘Who,’ I cried. ‘Who is wounded?’
His face worked for a while, his glance darting from me to my women who stood around me in a half circle. My heart beat loud and dull, making me nauseous. I could feel the bile rising in my throat. It was Cadafael, half-dead probably, either from injury or fatigue. From the churning of my stomach I knew I would be sick.
But he licked his lips, cleared his throat. ‘Iestyn.’
The word rang out across the precinct and as I sent up a swift prayer to whoever was listening, I heard Ffreur scream a death knell, shattering our shared dream of peace.
The Song of Heledd Page 12
