Dragon of the Island (34 page)

Read Dragon of the Island Online

Authors: Mary Gillgannon

Tags: #wales, #dark ages, #king arthur, #historical romance, #roman britain, #sensual romance, #mary gillgannon, #celtic mysticism

Maelgwn roused himself from his thoughts to
look into Balyn’s worried face. “Aye, I’m fine,” he answered
weakly.

Balyn shook his head. “You don’t look well,
my lord... don’t worry, we’ll find her.”

“Then what will we do?” Maelgwn asked
harshly. “She is terrified of me—she thinks I mean to kill
her.”

“I’m sure you can explain to her, Maelgwn.
She does love you, you know, I can tell by the way she looks at
you.”

Maelgwn stared into his friend’s eyes. “I
wish I could believe you.”

“Come, we’d better get going,” Balyn said
gently. “The sooner we find her, the sooner you can make things
right with her.”

The two men rode in silence, pushing aside
the low branches impatiently. Balyn still held the smoking torch,
and the light reflected eerily on the trees and cast weird shadows
across their path. The forest was thick and almost impenetrable in
places. Dead trees seemed to be everywhere, and more than once they
had to turn around to take another pathway.

“Maybe we should get down and search on
foot,” Maelgwn suggested when yet another fallen tree blocked their
way.

Balyn disagreed. “Since we have not found
Paithu, it seems that Aurora is still riding. She may be far ahead,
and we could never hope to find her on foot.”

“Paithu!” Maelgwn said suddenly. “Didn’t
Gareth train Paithu?”

“Aye, he did, and she is a superb and very
gentle horse.”

“I seem to remember Gareth saying that he
had trained the mare to come when he whistled,” Maelgwn said
excitedly. “Maybe he could try that now—if the horse were to whinny
back, at least we would know what
direction they
went.”

Balyn nodded. “It is something to try. I’ll
call the others back.”

He gave a shout—it did not take long for the
other men to come riding toward them.

“Have you found her?” Elwyn called anxiously
as he saw their torchlight through the trees.

“Not yet,” Balyn answered. “Where’s
Gareth?”

“I’m here, sir,” the older man called.

“Maelgwn has a plan,” Balyn explained when
all the men were assembled. “He wants Gareth to whistle for
Paithu.”

“What good will that do?” Evrawc complained.
“If Aurora is running away, she will surely not let the horse ride
back to us.”

“It’s just an idea,” Balyn said coldly.
“Otherwise, we night as well wait until morning. The forest is too
dark and treacherous.

“Aye, let me try,” Gareth said. He brought
his fingers to his mouth and let out a clear, shrill whistle.

The men listened. They could hear the wind
in the trees and the sound of dripping water on the forest floor,
but nothing else. Gareth tried again. Twice more he made the high,
piercing sound as the men waited.

“It’s no use,” Evrawc said impatiently. “She
is long gone, or maybe hiding. We should either keep searching as
we were or go back to our beds.”

The men looked at Maelgwn. He was their
leader, and they expected him to take charge in his usual
confident, authoritative way; they were puzzled by his silence and
his blank, pale face.

“Wait! Do you hear it?” Gareth said
excitedly.

“What?”

The men strained their ears. There was the
soft sound of the rain... and another sound.

“It is Paithu,” Gareth said excitedly. “She
is trying to answer me!” “It could be a horse,” Balyn answered
gravely “But where is it coming from? Gareth... whistle again.”

This time the sound was clearer, although
still very distant.

“It is hard to tell... perhaps that way...
back toward the river,” said Gareth.

“She did not get far,” Rhys said with a
frown.

“Perhaps she left the horse behind after
all.”

“Gareth—keep whistling!” Maelgwn
ordered.

The men set off again, moving in single
file. The ground was growing soft and slippery, and they were all
numb with fatigue and cold. They were retracing their steps back to
the river. They could hear the dull hum of running water when
Gareth called a halt.

“There, over there!

“I see the mare!” Gareth cried excitedly.
“But where is Aurora?”

Morning was near and the darkness was
thinning to a gray veil. Paithu nickered softly to them from among
the trees. The reins hung loose, but the mare did not try to come
to them.

Elwyn was the first to reach the clearing
where the horse stood. “It is Aurora... she’s hurt!” he cried in an
anguished voice.

Maelgwn had been lagging back, full of
dread, but at Elwyn’s words, he leaped off his horse and ran to the
spot where Elwyn knelt. The two men stared in horror at the body of
the queen, lying among the wet leaves. Her skin was dead white
against the black tendrils of her hair and the dark vegetation all
around her, but her face was peaceful and uncannily beautiful.

Elwyn felt frantically for a pulse. Maelgwn
had the impulse to tell him to stop. It seemed to him that this was
not his wife—it was some forest goddess who had dreamed in peace
for centuries. It would be blasphemous to try and wake her.

Aurora moaned. Her full lips, bleached white
by the cold, opened and emitted a soft sigh of pain. The spell was
broken, and Maelgwn’s disordered thoughts turned from awe to
terror.

“She’s hurt!” he gasped.

“Aye, but at least she still lives,” Elwyn
said with relief. “For a moment there...”

Maelgwn reached out to touch Aurora’s cheek.
It was as cold and pale as marble, but at his touch she stirred
again and mumbled something.

“We must get her back to the fortress!”
Elwyn said in an anxious voice.

“Aye, but first we must get her warm,” said
Rhys. The other men had reached the spot where the queen lay and
were gathered around nervously.

“She may be hurt, but the real danger is
that she is so cold,” Rhys continued, as he leaned over to examine
the queen gently.

The rest of the men nodded. Rhys had some
skill in healing, and on the battlefield they knew he was next best
to Torawc.

“I have a blanket in my pack—if it is not
too wet,” said Balyn. “I’ll get it.”

“Elwyn, help me take the queen’s clothes
off... and the rest of you—start gathering some branches to make a
litter to carry her home.”

The men jumped to follow Rhys’s orders.
Maelgwn continued to kneel at the queen’s side and stroke her face
lightly with his fingers. It seemed that 110 orders would be coming
from him, and his men were glad someone was taking charge.

Only Elwyn hesitated. “I cannot... take her
clothes off,” he said in a low, shocked voice.

“You must!” Rhys said irritably. “Her
clothes are soaked, and we must get her warm—she could die if we
don’t.”

Rhys searched for the tie at Aurora’s waist
that held the too-big trousers up, while Elwyn tried to slide her
limp arm through the tunic. Neither considered that Maelgwn would
be any help at all. He seemed to be in a trance—staring at Aurora’s
face and whispering to her softly.

It was a struggle, but the two men were
finally able to remove Aurora’s outer clothes. She had not stirred.
Rhys reached down and tore the linen undergarment Aurora was
wearing in half and began to pull it off.

“No!” Elwyn said. “It is not right that we
should look at her naked!”

“Would you rather look at her dead?” Rhys
asked coldly. “I am telling you, these wet clothes are chilling
her; we must get her warm quickly. Here, give me your cloak.”

“My cloak?”

“Aye, you fool. I will need several cloaks
if I am to get her warm. Better that we should all catch cold than
the queen die, don’t you think?”

Elwyn nodded numbly.

Do you think you could make a fire?”

“I did bring the flint, but everything is
wet—I don’t know.”

“Well, try. Use some of your own
underclothes to start it, anything that is dry. We need a fire if
we are to get her warm.”

“Maelgwn,” Rhys said gently, turning to the
king. “I need you to stand back while I wrap Aurora up. Would you
be willing to give me your cloak?”

Maelgwn nodded. It seemed like a dream, he
thought. It could not be Aurora who lay there so limp and
deathlike. Surely she was back at Caer Eryri, safe in the tower
room. This was but a spirit, a wood fairy, looking as lovely and
ethereal as a white starflower.

The rest of the men had returned with
branches.

“How is she?” Balyn asked.

“She still breathes,” Rhys answered. “But
very shallowly. I am worried that she hit her head when she fell
from the horse. There seems to be a lump... here,” he touched the
side of her head. “See how she moans when I touch it?”

“Aye, perhaps that is why she doesn’t
wake.”

Rhys nodded. “Moving her may make things
worse, but we have no choice.... How are you coming with that fire,
Elwyn?”

“I’ve got it,” the younger man answered. “At
least it has stopped raining, but I need some wood, anything you
can find that is partially dry.”

“Maelgwn,” Rhys’s voice was patient, gentle,
as if he were speaking to a child. “I need you to carry Aurora over
by the fire. Hold her on your lap, and move your hands over her
under the cloak—that’s right. Try to get her skin warm.”

Balyn returned from gathering wood and
pulled Elwyn aside. “What does Rhys say? Will she live?”

Elwyn shook his head miserably “He does not
know... he is afraid her head is injured.”

Balyn sighed. “I wonder what happened. Did
the horse trip, or did she fall off in exhaustion?”

“It is my fault,” Elwyn said in a trembling
voice. “I helped her run away. I let this happen to her.”

“You cannot blame yourself. You were trying
to help her.”

“Who can I blame then... Maelgwn?” Elwyn
asked bitterly. “How could he let things go this far? How could he
drive her to such desperation?”

“Hush! I’ll not have you talk like that. If
she does not live... Well, I won’t even mention it. It is clear
that Maelgwn cares now. It is up to us to make sure he has a chance
to make it up to her.”

“How is the litter coming?” Rhys asked.

“It is almost finished. Do you think she is
ready to be moved?”

“Soon. She’s getting warm, and I see a
little color in her face.” The two men stared at the king, holding
his wife tenderly in his arms by the fire.

“And the king?” Balyn asked in a hushed
voice.

Rhys shook his head. “Jupiter, I’ve never
seen him go to pieces like this. If she doesn’t live...” his voice
trailed off.

“We can’t think about that,” Balyn said
briskly. “She is young and strong. A fall from a horse and a night
in the cold shouldn’t be too much for her. After all she did climb
down that tower by herself.” The big man shuddered. “I don’t know
if I could have done that!”

“Aye, she is young. And the cold may have
kept her head injury from being worse. She was near dead when we
found her though. We are very lucky Maelgwn thought of having
Gareth whistle for Paithu.” “We are lucky, aye. So far we are lucky
indeed.”

Chapter 27

Gwenaseth watched the king with concern.
Maelgwn had not rested in the long hours since Aurora had been
brought to the tower room. He sat by the bed, holding his wife’s
hand and staring at her pale, still face. His handsome profile was
ravaged by fatigue and worry, and she decided it was time to take
Torawc’s advice and give him some drugged wine so he would sleep.
She went to the table, poured a cup of wine and surreptitiously
dumped a small pinch of white powder into the dark liquid. She
hastily swirled it around with her finger, watching Maelgwn
carefully. His eyes never left Aurora’s face.

“My lord, you should drink something,” she
said softly, walking toward the king with the cup.

Maelgwn shook his head, but said nothing.
All his concentration was focused on Aurora.

Gwenaseth placed the cup in his free hand.
“Drink, Maelgwn. Torawc said you must have some nourishment... he
insisted.”

Maelgwn sighed and grasped the cup idly.
Then he drank it down rapidly, without looking at it.

Gwenaseth trembled as she took the cup back
from him. Maelgwn looked worse than Aurora. Her face wore a look of
eerie peace, while Maelgwn looked like a man who had been tortured
for hours.

Gwenaseth went back to her stool by the fire
to wait for the drug to take effect. She was glad she had been able
to go back to sleep after the search party went out. She was tired,
but much more rested than everyone else. It had been shocking to
wake up and find Aurora so badly hurt, and she could not help
feeling guilty. If only they had known that Maelgwn did not plan to
hurt her, if only they had waited until morning.

Silently, Gwenaseth chastised herself for
her regretful thoughts. It was just as she had told Elwyn and
Maelgwn when she first saw their devastated faces—you could not
change the past, so there was no sense brooding over it. The
important thing was the future, and making sure that Aurora got
well. Her words had gotten through to Elwyn, and he went to bed to
sleep off his exhaustion. But Maelgwn—Gwenaseth could see that he
was beside himself with worry, punishing himself with remorse. He
greatly needed the oblivion of sleep to soothe his tormented
mind.

Gwenaseth glanced again at the king. His
eyelids were finally drooping. Perhaps she should call someone. If
he collapsed in the chair, there was no way she could get him into
the bed by herself.

Gwenaseth got up again and went to the door.
Maelgwn took no notice of her leaving—he did not even look up. She
hurried down the stairs and met Balyn outside the tower door.

“How does she?” he asked worriedly.

Gwenaseth shook her head. “She still has not
roused, but she seems to sleep peacefully. It is Maelgwn I am
worried about. I have given him some drugged wine so that he will
rest. Will you help me make a bed for him on the floor?”

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