The Stolen Bride

by Tony Hays

  Without greeting, I thrust the arrow out to him, and he took it, studying its length closely. “The same?”

  I nodded. “It came from my horse’s flank.”

  Only then did Bedevere notice Petrocus. Though usually taciturn and reserved, Bedevere had great respect for the clergy. “Forgive me.”

  “Lord Bedevere, this is the monachus Petrocus, for whom Arthur sent. He has had experience with these arrows as well.”

  “Yet I’m not very helpful, I fear. Why the seeming panic?”

  “Why do you think we are in a panic?”

  The monachus laughed deeply. “A lord of the consilium running down the lane. The look of deep concern on your own face. It does not take a learned man to discern this.”

  I did indeed like this fellow. “I was attacked on my return from Castellum Dinas by a group of men using these.” Merlin’s plight was best left unspoken, especially to one that we had just met. “Having found these same arrows at the massacred village, I was greatly troubled that these murderers seemed to be ranging across a great sweep of these lands without challenge.”

  “Who is there left to pose such a challenge?” Petrocus observed. “Doged’s nobles are here, all with as many of their men as they could muster. The lands are lawless enough when the nobles are at home. Take them and their men away and it is chaos.”

  “And you have heard nothing about who these people might be?” In my experience, the monachi hear much.

  “No,” he replied quickly. While the monachi hear much, they say little. That too was one of the things that bothered me about the Church. They used information as currency, just as the lords did.

  I suppose that they did these things for survival. Though the Romans had adopted this worship of the Christ, they had never fully succeeded in converting our people. Many had accepted Him; many had not. The Saxons were not believers, and they had brought their own gods with them.

  This new religion had much to commend it; good men had embraced it. But I tended to rely more on things that I could see, and talk of wine turning to blood and bread to flesh sounded of alchemy to me. Yet I found myself drawn to it, a little more each day. This was something I had just noticed, and I wondered how much of it was that human need for understanding, for order, in a world that offered little.

  Bedevere had remained silent during the exchange, but he spoke now. “I do not think this changes Kay’s task, Malgwyn. If he encounters them on his patrol, he will almost certainly engage them and maybe then we will learn more of their origins.”

  “I thought that perhaps I should join Kay.”

  Bedevere shook his shaggy head. “But Petrocus is here now, and we will soon be in the midst of negotiations.”

  I marveled at how quickly Bedevere sensed the need for circumspection. I do not mean to imply that he was dense, but diplomacy had never been his strength. He was a warrior, and no man fought harder or more bravely. Yet now I was learning that he had unplumbed depths.

  “I will send a rider,” my friend continued. “Kay should be made aware of this absolutely. There must be a reckoning for those poor people at that village. And for those of your farmstead, Petrocus,” he hurriedly added.

  All this circumspection was becoming tiring. “Petrocus,” I said, taking his arm in my one hand. “Let me take you to Arthur and Lady Ysbail.”

  Bedevere nodded and moved out of our way.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “So, this is the monachus who will proclaim me king of these lands?” Ysbadden was less than subdued by his brother-in-law’s funeral.

  Doged’s hall had been rearranged, the center cleared and chairs and benches lining the walls. At the back of the room, before Doged’s private chambers, Ysbail had taken her seat and, at that particular moment, was sending her brother a venomous stare. They were as different as two people could be. He was nearly twice her height and thrice her bulk. And she had all the grace and, yes, nobility, that evaded him.

  Arthur sat next to Ysbail, a placement that I was certain was an effort to put Ysbadden in his place. But the giant seemed incapable of detecting such a slight.

  “Brother, these are my lands now, and I shall rule them accordingly,” she proclaimed.

  “Bah. A woman cannot rule in her own right. All know that.”

  Shouts and screeches burst across the room between Ysbail and Ysbadden and their supporters.

  And then the strangest thing happened.

  While Arthur beat the floor with the hilt of his sword, pleading for silence, a guttural sound, the sound of a clearing throat, broke clear over the hall. In the din then sounding, it should have been drowned out like a mouse’s squeak. But all heard it, and even more surprisingly, all quieted. Even Ysbadden found a seat, near the Saxon contingent, I noted.

  “Lady Ysbail,” Petrocus began, moving into the open area. “I understand that I have been summoned to offer counsel on the laws of these lands.”

  “Lord Arthur suggested you as a learned man in these matters,” Ysbail acknowledged. It did not happen quite that way, but we gained nothing from embarrassing her.

  “I thank the Rigotamos,” Petrocus replied, nodding to Arthur. “These questions are not so easily resolved as your brother indicated.”

  I smiled. Petrocus was a skilled diplomat. By responding to Ysbadden through Ysbail, he established quickly who he saw as the most important. I was not certain that Ysbadden recognized the slight, but Ysbail did and she favored Petrocus with a smile.

  “We have many ranks in our society, and the question of a female ruler has been at issue for many years.” Petrocus strolled casually about the circle, as if this were nothing more than a lesson in a ludus and he a magister. “Among both the Scotti and our own people, women hold property, aye, even inherit property if there is no son. They have the same obligation to provide soldiers in time of war.”

  “But a woman ruler?” Druce bounded to his feet, interrupting Petrocus.

  The monachus was not perturbed. “Yes, my boy. It is not unknown for women to lead troops into battle. The Roman Tacitus wrote of a great queen, Cartimandua, of one of our eastern tribes. And do I have to mention Boudicca, of the Iceni? Sit, boy, and listen.”

  Most in the hall snickered, but I did not. Druce’s face grew scarlet. Taunting the young can have violent consequences. Druce would have his vengeance for being belittled. But for now, he sat down, though I saw that his hand stayed on his sword hilt.

  Turning suddenly to the Scotti king, who had stayed for this convocation after Doged’s funeral, Petrocus smiled. “And I do not have to remind our Scotti guest of Macha Mong Ruadh, who ruled all the lands of the Scotti for nearly ten years.”

  Invoking Macha’s name sent a low rumble circling the room. We had all heard her story, around the fires, late at night. Her father, the king, had died, and his council of advisors had elected Macha to replace him. But the old king had ruled in some complex way with two of his cousins, and the cousins did not want to share power with a woman. Macha was not a woman to be denied, and she raised an army, killed one cousin, and married the other.

  Petrocus, ever the entertainer, let the power of Macha’s name soak in. “And do I need to remind anyone that ancient tradition gives great authority to arglwyddes, female lords in the old tongue? No, both in our law and in our traditions there is ample evidence of women ruling.”

  “How come you to know so much?” Ysbadden challenged. The giant was confused. He had probably thought that taking these lands from his sister would be simple and less bloody than usual. But here he faced not only multiple claimants and the Rigotamos but also a surprisingly uncooperative sister. I almost felt sorry for Ysbadden, almost.

  Petrocus smiled that endearing smile of his. “I studied in Rome, my lord. And I have been deeply interested in our laws and traditions for many years.”

  Ysbadden spat on the hard-packed floor. “So you studied in Rome? That does not impress me. What has Rome done for us but abandon us? Fancy words. But Ysbail is widowed; she wil
l need a protector. As her closest relative that is my right.”

  This odd monachus turned his gentlest smile on Ysbadden. “That has no basis in either law or tradition.” Which was not exactly true, but I would not dispute him.

  “Rigotamos,” Druce began, trying a more moderate approach, it seemed. “This woman is not even of our people. She hails from a tribe south of here. For her to dance into our midst and claim the crown on the strength of a marriage but two moons old is no different than her brother’s practices.”

  I stood to get a better view of the room. I wanted to know how each faction would react to this, for, without question, this was the most important point.

  Ysbail was unaffected. Ysbadden went for his sword but thought better of it. Arthur cupped his chin in his hand, looking thoughtful, but I knew he was concealing a smile. For Druce to appeal to him after killing one of Arthur’s men and challenging him was, simply, laughable. And I noticed that Cilydd did just that, but quietly.

  Ceawlin and the Saxons were still here, but they were lined up against the wall, far from the center of attention. Cilydd had chosen to stand next to them, though his brother was as close to Ysbail as he could get. The better to be heard, I suspected. The hapless Trevelyan and a handful of his men were next to Bedevere. At least a dozen other nobles, greater and lesser, were arrayed against the wall. I doubted that anyone of stature in a ten-schoenus radius was not here. Even a child or two could be seen, darting in and out of the audience.

  Suddenly, the confident smile on Petrocus’s face slipped, just a little. “Let me say that I am not here as an iudex. I am here only to offer advice.”

  I did not envy Petrocus his position. Only the presence of Arthur and a fraction of his troops stood between Ysbail and a rebellion. With Doged alive, the threat had been only that, a threat. But now it was more than a possibility, and all the major claimants were here in this hall. What Petrocus said next might spell the different between war and peace.

  “The law lives in a world of absolutes,” Petrocus began. “But we live in a world where right and wrong are hardly ever that easily defined. Is Ysbail’s claim to these lands lessened by the short duration of her marriage to Doged? The law says no. Reality argues differently. Ruling lands is the same as ruling people. Law and tradition gives Ysbail the right to inherit these lands. But the law cannot force the people to obey her. In that respect, the length of her marriage to Doged is important.”

  “Ridiculous!” shouted the Scotti lord, as an audible gasp burst across the room. Even Arthur seemed confused as to why the Scotti would intervene.

  Petrocus turned toward him. “King Anwas, you dispute my conclusions?”

  Though we were constantly at war with the Scotti, they were but little wars. I still saw the Scotti as more nuisance than threat. The Saxons posed the greatest threat. So, I knew little of Anwas, and like everyone else, I wondered at why this mattered to him.

  “If the match was properly made and all promises kept, then she is his lawful heir,” the Scotti proclaimed. He was a tall man, though not as tall as Kay, with a round chest and a bushy beard.

  “I believe that I have already said that.” Petrocus allowed a bit of frustration to show through. “But we must also consider the realities.”

  “Bah.” Anwas scoffed. “What does a sacerdote know of reality? Either the law is the law or it is not.”

  And then a thought struck me. “Is Lord Mark injured or in poor health, Lord Anwas? Or will he be?”

  It was a chancy thing, to mock a king, but I was in safe company here, for the most part. Even the Saxons thought my jest funny. Arthur did not even try to hide his delight.

  “You are brave for something that was once a man.” Anwas spoke our tongue with a heavy accent.

  “You are brave for a king in enemy country.” I would pay later for that. It was impolitic and not completely true. But it served the purpose and shut Anwas’s mouth, and I told myself to remember to warn Mark to add another food taster. I would not want Anwas as a father-in-law; he was altogether too familiar with our laws and traditions on inheritance.

  Then something across the room drew my attention. Ceawlin, the Saxon pig, was whispering in Ysbadden’s ear. After a moment, the giant nodded and struggled to his feet.

  “This resolves nothing,” Ysbadden shouted. “You, Arthur! You claim to champion justice and fairness. It seems that several men have a claim on Doged’s lands. Submit this to an iudex. Let us have a trial to determine if my sister may rule.”

  Arthur was trapped. I was certain that Ceawlin had suggested this course of action. Once again, Arthur’s insistence on virtue had turned into a root in his path, catching his caligae and throwing him to the ground.

  Ysbail was alarmed. Her pale skin had turned a deep crimson. For the first time in my short acquaintance with her, that self-confidence that marked her had collapsed. Even the murder of her husband had not shaken her like this.

  Perhaps it was Ysbail’s reaction, perhaps it was the annoyance of children dashing about the hall, but at that moment I realized that Ysbail had failed to mention something important, something that could, indeed, make all the difference.

  “Petrocus!”

  The flurry of voices, swirling around the room, faded out.

  And all eyes turned to me.

  The monachus looked at me expectantly.

  “If Ysbail were with child, would that change the situation?”

  I thought it but a simple question, but the reaction was anything but simple. Druce, Cilydd, even Trevelyan leaped to their feet. Aye, Ysbadden jumped up so quickly that I feared he would punch a hole in the roof, and truth to tell, more than a little dried thatch and dust hung in the air.

  “Child! Child!” The word nearly became a chant, and through the wooden walls of Doged’s hall I could hear it spreading throughout the gathering.

  “She is not with child!” Ysbadden roared, finally quieting the room.

  “But,” Petrocus finally quelled the shouting mob, “if she were, it would change everything. The child would then become the heir and Ysbail its regent. That is law.”

  All eyes, truly, turned to the shaken Ysbail. Her crimson blush deepened. A moistness shone from the corner of an eye. Sucking in a deep breath, she began.

  “I am not with child.”

  And the clamor began again.

  Arthur looked at me curiously. He did not doubt my word, but he, we, all of us, had to wonder: Was Ysbail lying when she told me of her child? Or was she lying now? And if she was, why would she, as a child would secure her place?

  While I pondered that, I noticed something truly ominous. Lord David had entered the hall and was whispering in Druce’s ear. Arthur did not see; he was too busy whispering in Ysbail’s ear, assuring her, I was certain, that he would support her cause. I also was certain that his mind was racing, trying to formulate a response to Ysbadden’s demand.

  But Bedevere had seen David as well, and he tripped over Cilydd’s son, Culwhch, trying to reach Arthur’s side. Just as he made it, a new voice broke over the din.

  “I am Lord David, summoned here by my good friend Druce. I tell you all now that I support his claim on the throne.”

  “Bah!” exclaimed Ysbadden. “Sister, see how your friend Arthur works? He whispers his support in your ear while his dog, David, does his true bidding. You are far better off allowing me to rule.”

  Arthur seemed silenced by David’s unexpected appearance. We had heard, of course, that he was on his way, but he must have ridden without stop.

  “I speak for myself, not Arthur, not the consilium,” David replied. “I support Ysbadden’s call for an iudex to decide this matter.”

  No one responded immediately, and the low hum of whispering increased.

  “Will Lord Druce commit to abiding by any decision reached by the iudex?” The words rang out, and it was a moment before I realized that it was I who had spoken. Arthur would not be pleased, and I avoided looking his way.

 
David turned toward me, seeing me, I knew, for the first time. He smiled in that way he had, that way that portended trouble for everyone. “Why, Master Malgwyn. So good to see you. Of course, Druce agrees to abide by any decision made.” He answered too quickly, and Druce looked uncomfortable. I suspected that the young lord was not as accomplished a liar as David. He would be, if he lived long enough.

  “You will?” Ysbadden asked, as puzzled as the rest.

  “Truly. Lord Druce is no less a lover of fairness and equality than the Rigotamos, nor am I.”

  I choked back laughter. David loved mostly himself. After that, he loved gold. After that, power. But there was far more to this than just that. There was a reason that David wanted a hearing by an iudex.

  “Then all that is left is the selection of an iudex,” Arthur said, finally entering the fray.

  Another lord of Doged’s, a man in his middle years, stood up. “We have the perfect man already here. Petrocus knows the law and knows the traditions. He knows our ways. He is a man of the Christ. Let him be the iudex.”

  At that moment, Petrocus wished to be anywhere but here. He did not need to say it. The frown on his face sent the message much better than he could by speaking. For that I could not blame him. Petrocus viewed these matters as a scholar. His life was lived in theories. But this was about the real world.

  “My lords, I am but a poor monachus, not a true iudex. Wouldn’t you be better served by a man with more experience?”

  “Do not belittle your own experience, Petrocus,” I chastised him. “I would rather have a sacerdote or presbyter of your reputation oversee this matter than some iudex that measures his decisions by the heft of the claimants’ purses.”

  Arthur frowned at me again, but he could not argue. We still had, in the larger towns, men who were called iudices, and they judged the occasional simple dispute. But the old Roman system of justice had long ago disappeared.

  “I am satisfied with Petrocus as the iudex.” Ysbail had recovered her composure. She turned her icy eyes to first Ysbadden and then Druce. “He has already acknowledged that the brief term of my marriage to Doged has a role to play in all of this. Certainly he is a fair-minded man.”