Queen Sacrifice

by Tony Riches

  A loud cheer rang out and those who carried swords and spears raised them high in a salute to the king. Gethin smiled, there was a lot of work to do but it was a start and he felt a surge of pride. The people of the tribes would remember this day.

  *

  Flies buzzed around the head of Bishop Cledwin’s horse as he carefully picked his way along the stony track. Soon after he left the comfort of his home he had nearly turned back, fearing for his life and unsure of the wisdom of his dangerous plan. It had come to him while he was enjoying a hot bath, thinking of the implications of the war. One of the advantages of his position was that he had the protection of the Church, so it made sense to take advantage of the situation. He did not expect that the uncivilised Du would be any match for the well trained soldiers of the Gwyn, yet they had little to lose and could do great harm to the property of the Church if they wished. Instead of sending men to help him defend St Davids from attack, the king had instead taken his best men to reinforce the south.

  He had been resigned to this unsatisfactory arrangement, partly out of loyalty to the King and also because he did not feel he had any choice in the matter. His view changed when his housekeeper Anwen announced that Elfred was waiting to see him. There had been no word from his son since he left for training at Pembroke Castle, so the bishop was surprised and happy to know he was safely home once more.

  ‘Elfred, you look well.’ He looked at his son more closely, as his eyesight was not as it should be, and realised what was different about him. ‘…and that beard has gone,’ he laughed.

  ‘Thank you bishop, it’s good to be back.’ Elfred thought the bishop seemed older since their last meeting.

  ‘There is much to do, as usual,’ Cledwin gestured for Elfred to sit and had to admit he looked a true soldier now, with a new confidence that reminded the bishop of himself in his younger days.

  ‘How was the harvest? I called at the farm but the men were out in the fields, so I came straight here.’

  Cledwin shook his head. ‘It has been hard with the farm so short handed. As well as yourself, I had to send five of my best workers for the service of the King.’ He smiled at Elfred. ‘At least you have returned.’

  ‘I cannot stay for long, bishop. I have been sent on a mission to the north and was glad of the chance to see my home again.’

  Cledwin was astounded. He had travelled all the way to Picton to ask the favour of Sir Gwynfor, yet it seemed he had broken his promise at the first opportunity. Although Elfred was quick witted and now had some military training, he would be easy prey for battle hardened Du warriors.

  Elfred was surprised at bishop Cledwin’s reaction to the news. ‘I will do what I can to help before I go…’

  ‘I understand that soldiers have to fight,’ interrupted Cledwin, his mind racing as the full implications sunk in. ‘It’s just that I don’t see the need to take unnecessary risks.’

  ‘We need to bring an early end to this war,’ said Elfred. ‘Then I can return and we will be even safer than before.’

  ‘I can see your mind is made up,’ said the bishop. ‘Take care in the wilderness, it has hidden dangers.’ He felt suddenly more than a little angry at Gwynfor of Picton, who would be held to account if anything were to happen to Elfred.

  ‘You know the wilderness, bishop?’

  ‘Yes, I have travelled through Du territory on the business of the Church. The men of the tribes have long memories and bear a grudge against us. You are not to trust them. They have no honour and would strike you down without mercy.’

  ‘I am not looking for a fight with them. My work is just to warn if they come too far south.’

  The bishop took an engraved silver crucifix from around his neck and handed it to Elfred.

  ‘I’d like you to have this, Elfred. It will show the Du that you fight with God on your side.’

  ‘Thank you, bishop, I will wear it always.’

  ‘We will pray for your safe return.’

  Those fateful words came back to Cledwin as he rode deep into the wilderness. His plan had been to track down Elfred and order him home, which he was within his right to do. Despite Elfred’s head start, it should have been easy, as he had left his horse in the bishop’s stables and continued on foot. Despite his best efforts, however, there was no sign of his son. Cledwin realised he had ridden too far to return before darkness fell, so decided to press on, hoping to find somewhere to shelter for the night. As he rode, Cledwin formed a new plan. He knew of a chapel, built in the middle of the wilderness by a Du priest who was charged with saving the lost souls who lived there. There was no certainty over the outcome of the war, so it would be well to make his peace with the influential bishops of the Du.

  *

  Commander Idris was a proud man and had been affronted by the king’s decision to over-rule his dismissal of the insubordinate Hywel. Not long after receiving the message he issued an order that Hywel was to be sent into the field immediately. He had respected the king’s wishes in returning Hywel to duty but was perfectly within his rights as Commander of the Guard to assign him to other duties. Idris also knew that the king was away reviewing the outposts, so by the time he found out it would be too late.

  Hywel was still recovering from his beating and keen to not cross the Commander again, so when he received the order he had no choice other than to follow it. Before leaving he called secretly at the royal apartments to see Ceinwen, so that he could explain it was his duty as a soldier of the king.

  Ceinwen looked at him in disbelief. ‘You can’t go! Your duty is to protect the queen!’

  Hywel took both her hands in his and looked into her eyes. I am a soldier and we are going to be at war. I promise to be careful and come back safely to you, as soon as I can.’

  She pulled him close to her and he could feel the warmth of her body. ‘Stay with me tonight.’

  He nearly resisted but instead kissed her slowly and passionately. Ceinwen locked the doors to make sure they would not be disturbed and led him to her bed. She looked down at him and slowly undressed them both.

  Hywel gently stroked her body, admiring her soft perfect curves, lit by the flickering light of a single candle. ‘I have been dreaming of this,’ he said softly. ‘You are so beautiful…’

  Ceinwen smiled. ‘I’ve longed for you.’ She grabbed his strong arms and held him close.

  Hywel was silent, enjoying the moment.

  She caressed the dark hairs on his chest. She kissed him softly at first, then harder and longer. He was surprised at how wonderful it felt to make love with a woman who loved him in return. Their bodies were as one and nothing else mattered.

  He woke to find her still in his arms, her long black hair cascading over his chest and her dark eyes shining. ‘I love you.’ He whispered to her in the dark.

  Hywel thought of that moment over and over again as he made the long trek to the south. He smiled to himself. Life was good.

  *

  Queen Elvina lay awake in the dark, unable to sleep, her mind racing with thoughts and memories. She remembered the first time she had seen the king. Her brother Athelstan had kept the reason for the journey from her but she had always known. She was a Saxon princess of marriageable age, an asset her brother could hardly ignore. Elvina had taken care with her education, so was one of the best educated women in the land, fluent in Latin and making good progress with conversing in Welsh. She had been married as a ‘fricwebba,’ a ‘peace-weaver,’ as her brother Athelstan, the Saxon King, considered it an ideal role for her to work for peace between the Saxons and the Welsh.

  Elvina decided it was time to take control of her destiny after her handmaiden, Bethan, brought her a message sealed with wax. The queen had read it many times in the last few hours. It was written in a Latin script known to few in Wales and she recognised a line from the Roman poet VirgiIius: ‘et nos cedamus amori’. Although he did not mention either of their names she knew it could only have been from Gwynfor. He had suggested that sh
e travel to visit him in secret in the country, close to the town of St Davids. There was no clue to why he was there or for how long and it had been a daring risk to send the note, yet she understood, as she had been longing to hear from him.

  She rang a small bell to summon Bethan, who arrived to see the queen putting the flame of a candle to the parchment. ‘We are going on a journey, Bethan. I would like to see more of this country before the war makes it impossible.’ She looked at Bethan, watching her reaction to the news.

  Bethan seemed unconcerned. ‘Will we be away for long, my lady?’

  ‘A week, if this good weather holds.’

  Bethan watched as Elvina threw the burning note into the stone hearth and watched as it quickly turned to ash. ‘You don’t think we should wait until the fighting is over?’

  Elvina smiled. ‘My place is with my people. One day I will be queen of the whole country, and then my brother will have to take notice.’

  Bethan picked up a hairbrush from the table and began to softly comb the queen’s long hair. ‘It will not be an easy war. The people of the north will fight to the last.’

  Elvina looked at Bethan. Something about her was different. She seemed to have gained in confidence and was wearing a white dress that looked well on her. Around her neck was a silver chain with a Celtic pendant that twinkled in the candlelight with the rhythmic movement her gentle brushing.

  ‘What do you know of the Du?’

  Bethan stopped combing as she remembered. ‘I imagine they make a dangerous enemy.’ She hesitated. ‘I think they just want to live in peace, if we will let them.’

  The queen turned and put her hand on Bethan’s arm. ‘They murdered Gwayne’s father. He can never forgive them.’

  ‘Has the king ever told you how his father died?’

  Elvina shook her head. ‘Not really. He doesn’t talk of it.’ She knew Bethan well as they spent a lot of time in each other’s company and she could sense that she was holding something back. ‘Tell me. Tell me what you know?’

  ‘His father was fighting the Du when he died. He wanted to wipe them out. Kill every last one.’

  ‘You sound bitter. Were your family caught up in the fighting?’

  Bethan looked at the queen. ‘My family are Du, my lady. I come from the north.’

  Elvina put her hand on Bethan’s arm and looked into her eyes. She had been easily persuaded by the king that the northerners were illiterate tribes but now she realised there was a way to learn something of their enemy. Bethan had never mentioned her background, although she had stood out from the other servants, which was why Elvina had chosen her as a handmaiden.

  The king had tried to dissuade her from the journey but eventually agreed it would be good for her to see more of the country. There was no question of him travelling with her, however, as he had too much to do. He did insist that they were escorted by soldiers from his personal king’s bodyguard. The men were pleased, as it was easy work and they were under strict orders from the king to stay within the safety of the Gwyn territory.

  Before she left, the king handed her a small ornate dagger in a white leather scabbard. The silver handle was decorated with Celtic symbols.

  She turned it slowly and the savagely sharp blade glinted in the light.

  ‘What would I do with this?’ ‘Hide it somewhere you can reach it quickly.’

  ‘I don’t know how to use a knife to fight! Surely I would be better just running away if the Du ever get this close?’

  ‘We must be ready to defend ourselves, Elvina. It could be much worse for us if we don’t.’

  *

  The queen and her handmaiden talked as they rode inland together, towards the mountains. Elvina was enjoying the ride and glad of a change of scenery from the Royal Llysoedd at Pennard. She was a skilled rider, having grown up around horses since she was a young girl, and was riding her favourite white mare, a gift from her husband. Bethan was also a very capable rider and was alongside her on one of the royal horses.

  Autumn was slowly turning into winter and they had wrapped up well against the chill breeze. ‘This beautiful mare is called Ceffyl Blaen. That means forward horse?’

  Bethan laughed. ‘It is a Welsh saying, it means someone who is always making things happen…’

  She turned to Bethan. ‘That’s a good name for my horse! The king thinks I should wait in my rooms until this war is won. I will not. I am going to make things happen and you, Bethan, are going to help me.’

  ‘What do you have in mind?’

  Elvina did have a plan but she was not sure the time was right to share it with her handmaiden. ‘You must tell me about the Du, Bethan. I need to understand your people.’

  Bethan looked at her, trying to make a judgement.

  Elvina smiled to put her at ease. ‘You haven’t told me about your parents, are they still alive and well?’

  ‘My father disappeared over the English border when I was young, but my mother is well.’

  ‘Does she live in the north?’

  ‘No, my lady, she lives not far from Pennard, I see her as often as I can.’

  ‘How did you end up in the king’s household?’

  ‘My mother found me a position there, we came south as many others have in search of work.’

  ‘I need to understand more about the people of the north. I want to know about their queen, what do you know of her?

  ‘There is a new queen since I was in the lands of the Du. All I know is her name.’ Elvina looked at Bethan but it was impossible to tell if she was telling the truth. ‘What is her name?’

  ‘Rhiannon. Her name is Queen Rhiannon.’

  Chapter Nine

  Hywel was lost. An ominously swirling mist was looming over the hills and he realised that the path he had been following had become so overgrown it could not possibly lead to the outpost at the southern border. He took shelter under a gnarled old oak tree from the biting wind and checked his supplies. He had some rough bread and cheese, enough drinking water for another day and some oat cakes. These were a parting gift from Ceinwen. She had wrapped them in a clean cotton cloth and handed them to him as he left. She was trying to look happy for him but her eves betrayed her.

  He had been saving the oat cakes but now carefully uncovered them and ate one slowly. They had unexpected exotic flavour of cinnamon, a rare and precious spice he had only tasted once before in mulled wine. Cinnamon was traded from far off lands by Venetian merchants and was far too expensive to use except on very special occasions. It reminded him of Christmas and he savoured the memory of their night together. For the first time he realised that Ceinwen must be wealthy. It had never occurred to him before but he realised that when he married her he would become a member of the royal family, rather than just their bodyguard.

  The chill was beginning to seep into his bones, despite his thick black woollen cloak, which doubled as a blanket to keep him warm at nights. Hywel decided he had no option but to take a track which rose steeply into wooded mountains, so he could use the height to find his bearings. The sun was barely able to penetrate the leaden clouds but he could see that it was setting to his right, which meant he was still heading south. He kept walking until the failing light made it difficult to see the way ahead. There was nowhere to shelter but he found some comfort in soft grass in the lee of a rocky outcrop. Hywel had a troubled night, as he needed to stay alert and there were many strange noises in the darkness to keep him from sleeping, despite his exhausting walk.

  The next day was brighter and after a breakfast on another of Ceinwen’s oat cakes, he climbed to the highest point he could find to see the lay of the land. The only sign of habitation was a distant wisp of grey smoke rising lazily into the morning sky, so he decided it would be better to head for it than to try to retrace his steps. He moved warily now, looking for cover wherever he could find it. Hywel had no idea how far he was from the northern boundary of the Gwyn and had been warned of ambush from marauding bandits.

  Th
e smoke was further off than it had seemed at the top of the mountain, so he took bearings using natural landmarks to make sure he was still heading the right way if it stopped. After several miles of hard walking he came across a sunlit clearing in the trees, where he found the fire he’d been looking for. It had clearly been made by someone who knew what they were doing. A good sized rabbit was roasting nicely on a cleverly improvised wooden spit and the aroma reminded Hywel of his hunger. He cautiously looked around but there was no sign of anyone, so he decided to wait as they couldn’t be very far away. He was right. A soldier of the Gwyn appeared as if from nowhere, carrying a water bottle, which he promptly dropped to the ground and drew his sword in a flowing motion that told Hywel he was dealing with a trained sword fighter.

  ‘Surrender, Du!’ the soldier shouted.

  Hywel was an experienced man of the queen’s guard and without hesitating drew his own sword and closed the distance between them with a powerful lunge. He knew that a fight with swords often ended with first cut and swung his blade in a deadly arc at the head of his enemy. The man surprised Hywel by quickly side stepping to avoid the blow rather than attempting to parry the attack. In a flash the Gwyn soldier retaliated with a well aimed slash of his sword that clanged dangerously against Hywel’s parry as it struck. Hywel pushed the soldier’s sword back with his own and thrust as hard as he could at the man’s chest, only to be swiftly parried once again. He noted how the man kept his arms and sword outstretched, rather than bent close to his body, so pretended to be forced back then lunged again, this time cutting deep into the artery of the man’s unprotected neck.

  The Gwyn soldier was mortally wounded and dropped his sword to the ground, then fell to his knees. Hywel felt a rush of remorse. The soldier had been well trained but was young and inexperienced. Hywel had acted instinctively but was alarmed at the sight of the red blood spurting from the man’s neck. He quickly searched through the leather bag that was still over his shoulder and found Ceinwen’s white cotton square. Throwing out the remaining oat cakes, Hywel made a desperate attempt to stem the bleeding. It was no use and he watched as the life quickly faded from his enemy.