The Beast of Caer Baddan (18 page)

Leola started awake.

She did not know how long she had been sleeping, but the whole tent seemed still and deserted.

She opened her right hand and found that the ring had made grooves in the center of her palm.

This really happened!

At first, she lay back down on the pillows, pulling the blanket over her head and bursting into a stream of
embarrassed giggles, as the memory flooded back over her.

No one would believe that a Britisc aetheling had married her, a commoner, but in that moment she did not care. As far as Leola was concerned, she had laid with mighty Thunaer, the Saex god of thunder and the sky.

As she closed her eyes and listened to the silence, her being trembling with every remembrance. She could still feel his lip sucking on her sensitive skin and running the tips of his strong fingers up and down her body.

It slowly came to her that everyone, all of those servants of his, were gone off somewhere else. It seemed like the whole camp around her must be empty.

She sat up again, as if she had been affected by some potent herb and was only now returning to her senses.

He took the slave collar off of me! I can escape!

Leola pulled the blanket off and dragged herself up off of the cot.

She was surprised to find that she was tired, sore, and suddenly very cold. The pain in her ankle was dampened, but she knew that it would be too painful to walk on it as it was. Hugging one blanket around her, Leola pulled open the baskets and found a multitude of small weaponry; arrows, short swords, and knives.

Knives!

She took one small one out and found that it too had the same strange scratches along the handle and blade.

His trees, he had said, the rowan, the oak, the alder, the hazel, the willow, and the ash.

Leola shook her head, trying to throw these thoughts from her mind.

I shall not get anywhere if I sit here thinking about him!

The boxes revealed what she had actually been looking for, lose linen. She tore a strip off and wrapped it around her foot and up her tender ankle.

The dress had been pushed in between the cot and the tent’s wool wall, and although Leola knew it was there, she still had to pull the blankets off to find it. The garment was still too long and too tight, but it was a dress and therefore had to do.

Leola combed her hair out with the comb she took from the table and began to braid it into one long tail.

I am married now!

Married women did not wear a single braid, but put their hair in two tails. Leola undid her hair, combed it out again, and then deliberately parted it into two sides.

Should I?

Leola had to ask herself, for she wondered at an aetheling marrying a commoner. Perhaps he had seven or eight wives already, and so adding one more did not matter to him. It was not as though Leola was his first wife, his cwen. She was certain that she was not his cwen, for he had not given her any money.

But what of his ring? Surely this is of great value! Perhaps he meant in in place of money!

“No,” she said, resolutely. “I shall not be silly and think that I have any power or position just because some Britisc aetheling decides to make me his wife. I am one of many, and I shall not pretend that he thinks me anymore.”

Yet the marriage was there, and she was not going to deny it.

Leola found the cord Owain had used to bind their left hands together. This she cut in two pieces and tied them around the ends of her long braids.

She dug through the pile of blankets until she found a small light one, which she folded in half at the corners and draped it over her shoulders.

With the knife and ring in one hand tucked under the make-shift shawl and an empty basket in the other, she crept out of the room into the outer area of the tent.

There was no one there, nor was there any talking close by, and she felt daring enough to continue.

“Beauty.”

That was what he had called her.

Leola squared her shoulders in determination and mentally screamed at her wild thoughts.

This Owain of Baddan was a Britisc, an aetheling of her hated enemies. He and his Britisc warriors had destroyed her home and set her entire village on fire. He had probably killed her aunt's husband, Fensalir, and her employer the Earlmann of Holton. He had slain her people, the Gewissae.

Of course, these were the same people who had shunned her when she began working in the mead hall. But however ill treatment she had suffered under them, they were still her people, her village, and she was loyal to them.

Leola had willing lain down once for this Britisc aetheling, but she would never do so again, no matter how he coaxed her and called her pretty things.

She would escape from all of these Britisc. She would be free.

Leola pulled the tent flap back and stepped out into the gloomy day. She let out a silent gasp.

There, standing beside her, was the guard, the soldier who had held the tent flap open for them as they entered. He did not seem to notice her. She ducked her head and walked away, slowly but with precision.

Everywhere around her, guards and servants walked or ran in one direction. Some looked at her with curiosity, but none stopped or spoke to her. Her steady gait took her in the opposite way, away from them and where they were going. She repressed the urge to flee.

If I run now, they shall see, and I shall be caught
.

The edge of the camp appeared as simply as tents and then open land, with no wall or ditch to di
stinguish it. Leola walked past the last of these temporary dwellings and walked off into the field. She suspected that she was in the northeastern side of Holton’s land and saw where the forest lay just beyond.

If I can get there without them noticing, I am free
.

She walked on more slowly now, and bent over here and there as if looking for some herb, lest anyone should see her and question what she was doing.

Her steps led her to the end of the field where the forest trees rose up high from the ground and shaded the deep woods. She put her hand on one sure giant hazel and took a deep breath. Her feet crept in, until she felt herself slip into the deep woods. 

Chapter Fifteen: Where Two Ways Part

The south, once merely dotted with quiet trees, was now lined with the advancing enemy. The Dumnonni appeared a strong people with their warriors dressed in long colorful mantles and metal cuffs. Although their pointed conical helmets were the same as most of the peoples of the island, they bore the proud emblems of each of their clans and families painted on their circular shields.

Owain's mind filled with the fierce and bitter rivalry his own clan had with the Isca clan, to which the King of the Dumnonni and their champion belonged. Both the Andoco and the Isca peoples held a list of grievances that the other had inflicted on them and neither wished to resolved the issues. Owain suspected that the Dumnonni's apparent agreement with the Gewissae people must be one more example of that hundred-year feud.

“Sound the battle horns,” Owain said.

The centurions repeated the order, and the soon groaning sound of the carnyx filled the air. At first it was high like a trumpet, loud and muffled combined, and then buzzing low, as if daring the enemy to come forth.

The soldiers yelled in response.

“Attack!” Owain cried.

The whole army ran out, with the sound blasting behind them. The Dumnonni responded with
their own horns and cries, and rushed forward to meet them.

They clashed in the center of the field.

Owain drove right into the middle of the Dumnonni lines, but his eyes searched the enemy's rear for their leader. Owain saw the Dumnonni warrioress with her horned helmet and her bronze battle mask. He found Prince Cadfan, a warrior whom he knew well from sight and reputation. Although Owain believed that prince to be skilled, clever, and devious, he was not the one Owain wanted.

Then his traveling gaze caught what his heart sought.

Far to the back, away from the battle, stood a man dressed in the costly scale armor and having the colorful squared mantel and gold plated helmet of a powerful ruler.

“King Tudwal,” Owain said to himself, recognizing the man.

He cut his way through the enemy soldiers, sending them falling all around him, until he was just before the King of the Dumnonni.

“Here we are again, King Tudwal,” Owain said.

A Dumnonni knight lunged at him, but Owain caught the man by the hooks of his breast plate and tossed him into the raging battle.

“We must end these meetings, Prince Euginius,” the Dumnonni king replied, using Owain's Latin name.

“Oh, I assure you, King,” Owain said. “This shall be our last.”

The Dumnonni king drew his own sword, and their weapons met with a harsh brazen sound.

“I have always enjoyed your company, Prince,” the Dumnonni king said.

His words were calm and easy in spite of the swordplay.

The Dumnonni knights were on Owain, but his quick weapon and hard shield beat them down.

“Then there is the difference between us,” Owain replied, “for I cannot abide your company at all.”

“It is your clan I do not like,” said the king.

Owain did not think that there was a way to separate himself from his clan. Isca was still Isca and Andoco still
Andoco, and these two people would battle to eternity unless Owain put a stop to it.

“Many years ago, you kidnapped my aunt, Gratianna,” Owain replied. “And now you plan an attack on Venta the residence of my other aunt Severa. You say you do not like my clan? I say I do not like you.”

“Then let us finish this.”

The leaves crackled under Leola’s feet as she sped through the woods. The wind rushing into her throat was dry and seemed to burn her. She felt a strange sensation creeping up her neck, and the odd crackle sound of her hair told her that something about the air was wrong.

Even the forest creatures scurried to the safety of their burrow, seeming to possess some secret knowledge. But Leola was set on fleeing and not with the sensations around her.

She jumped in fright every time some tiny animal moved, as if they were Britannae soldiers capturing her.

No one can find me!

Yet she knew that her thoughts were thus only to convince herself that it was so.

The dim light of the gray noon appeared through the holes between the branches. That was her real freedom. Once she was there, she would be too far away for anyone to locate her.

Her heart pounded in her fingertips, and she clenched the knight and ring in her right hand. Her lips moved with her steps, counting them down from a hundred.

The forest went bright in one sudden white flash. A low cracking sound slapped her ears. She stopped, as if the light and noise froze her in flight.

Lightning!

She had escaped a prison only to find a new and different danger.

With lightning often came rain, and in this cool spring day, and her meager clothing, Leola was desperate not to get wet.