The Beast of Caer Baddan (29 page)

She stopped, and Leola thought she saw a hint of anger in her aunt's pleasant eyes.

“Fensalir,” Leola said, absently, putting the whole story together.

“Yea, my husband,” Redburga replied, with a nod of her head. “And rather proud of it he was.”

“I am so sorry, Aunt,” Leola said, for she did not know how to reply to such a narration.

Redburga shrugged her shoulders. “I got my revenge on them both. My next child, Garrick, was the earlmann's son.”

Leola was shocked for she had never dreamed her aunt would do that, be married to one man and have a child by another woman's man. But then Leola wondered what would happen if she were to meet one of Owain's other wives. Perhaps she would be jealous of them, or they of her.

She shook her head in bewilderment.

“My point was only that Fridiswid does not want anyone to know that her daughter is my husband's child.”

“You threatened the dryhtcwen!” Leola cried.

She was not sure if she should be horrified or burst into laughter.

Prince Iestyn was waiting for Britu as he and Swale returned from business in Ceint.

“Have you been standing there all day?” Britu said, in surprise.

“No, Prince,” Prince Iestyn replied, looking on Swale, as if unsure what he should say before an audience.

“Speak up, then,” Britu said. “Did you find the knights?”

Britu knew that his grief over Owain's death was making him short tempered, but he was too impatient from the journey to hold
himself in check.

“No, Prince,” Prince Iestyn said. “But in Anlofton I did find a girl, a Gewissae woman, who is pregnant.”

“So?”

“She says she is the wife of Owain Prince of Glouia.”

Both Britu and Swale gaped at him.

“I did not know what to do, Prince,” Prince Iestyn went hurriedly on. “So I simply left and came back here to see you on your return.”

“You did right, Prince Iestyn,” Britu said, in a daze.

“What are your orders?” Prince Iestyn asked.

“Be ready to ride in the morning.”

Britu turned and went in through the front doors and Swale had to hurry to keep up. 

“Nothing shall come of it, Clansman!” Britu cried, repeating Swale's words from the spring before. “Now we have a pregnant Saxon! Owain's father shall be furious with us!”

But he was far more concerned about what his own parents would say than his uncle.

“This was an unforeseen event, Britu,” Swale replied. “But it was my decision and so I shall take any blame.”

Britu doubted that his mother and father would consider that. They blamed him for everything under the sun. This was just one more thing for them to be angry with him about.

“I have Owain's journal with me,” Swale continued. “I shall write a letter to King Irael at once and give him the journal when he arrives, as I am sure he shall come.”

“And my father and mother?”
Britu asked, bitterly. “What do I say to them?”

“Nothing at all,” Swale replied, his own distress filling his voice. “As I said, it was my choice. I shall tell them myself.”

“Then I shall ride to Anlofton in the morning and be sure of her identity,” Britu said, hoping that his parents' wrath would be cooled in his absence. “What was her name?”

“Leola daughter of Hobern.”

Britu was surprised that Swale should remember and not have to look at the journal entry to be certain.

“Very well. Leola then,” he said. “What a strange name. There cannot be too many of those around.”

Swale went to find Britu's parents, and Britu sank into a convenient chair.

He had known something would happen all along, had been sure of it, and now his mother and father would be enraged. Perhaps Swale would receive the start of it, but Britu knew that his parents would eventually direct their wrath on him, whatever Swale said.

The sunrise brought Britu, Prince Iestyn, and over twenty knights into the tiny village of Anlof. They stopped by one grass covered hut and inquired after Leola.

“I'm looking for a pregnant woman who claims to be the wife of a Britannae prince,” Britu said in Brythonic, and Prince Iestyn repeated it in Saxon.

The woman at the
gate, too frightened to utter a sound, simply pointed to the hut across the way.

Britu waited on his war pony, as Prince Iestyn dismounted and pounded on the door frame. A young woman stepped out from the far side of the hut. Her blond hair was braided in two long tails that came down to her waist, and her blue eyes were fixed on Prince Iestyn. Britu realized at a glance that she would soon give birth.

“Oh!” Prince Iestyn cried noticing her. “There she is, Prince!”

Britu watched the woman with a keen steady eye. He saw her surprise and suspicion, but no fear crossed her face.

“Who are you?” Prince Britu asked, and Prince Iestyn translated.

“Leola daughter of Hobern,” she replied.

He was sure then that she was the woman who Owain had taken out of the Saxon great hall some six months before.

Britu cleared his throat. “You claim to be the wife of a Briannae prince?” he asked.

“I am,” Leola said. “I am the wife of Owain son of Irael Prince of Glouia.”

“Where did you marry?”

“Are you an Andoco as well?” Leola asked. “Your armor is alike to his.”

“I am," Prince Britu replied, irritated that this commoner should interrupt his questioning. He was a prince. She was nothing at all.

“I remember you,” she said, “you are Owain’s clansman who argued with him in his tent. You were angry with him.”

Britu was both surprised and annoyed at these words. He did not want to be reminded of the maddened words he spoke to Owain the morning of his death. Britu wished he could take it all away, so that it had never happened, but he could not.

“Answer my question, stupid girl,” he said. “Where did you marry?”

“I met the prince in Holton,” Leola replied. “He married me there in his tent in the center of the camp by binding our hands together and saying strange words over them.”

“Are you the prisoner he took out of the mead hall?” Prince Britu said.

“I am.”

“And that is his child you carry?”

“Yea.”

Britu gazed into her eyes, searching for something, anything to prove that she was lying to him. But her face revealed her honesty, and he was forced to accept it.

“I am taking you to his aunt and uncle,” he said.

“I cannot go,” Leola replied. “This child is grown too big.”

“Impertinent girl, you think you have an answer for everything. I have brought a carriage. It is waiting for you at the entrance to the village and it shall take you to Prince Owain's uncle and clansman, the King of Atrebat in Venta the Capital of Atrebat. You are coming now. For you do not want to see my wrath.”

Britu had never thought of razing the defenseless village. But his patience was worn so thin, he could kill anything.

Leola seemed at a loss for words, and Britu felt the unique satisfaction of silencing someone. He saw that she understood his thoughts and only nodded her head in submission. She would come without a fight.

Of all the dreams her imagination conjured up, Leola had not thought of this situation.

Britu Aetheling, who had argued with Owain and told him he could not have Leola, was the one to come and get her. Leola doubted greatly that Owain had sent him there, but perhaps Owain was off somewhere far away, and still did not know where she was. If Britu would take her to Owain's uncle and aunt, they must at some point tell Owain where she was. She would see him again, and she did not know what she should feel about it.

Leola had run away from the camp, the guards and servants, and the destruction. Yet above all else, she had escaped from him.

Should she now be glad she was returning to him? Would he be pleased to have her back? Furious that she had left?

He had not been angry when she tried to stab him, but he had been completely in control of the situation then. Her flight had altered that relationship, and her dreadful experience with Raynar had taught her that some men do not like to be crossed.

I must focus on the matter at hand
.

Leola knew, by the white faces and stifled
gasps, that Britu had frightened the village women beyond anything that she could ever repair. She was also sure that her aunt and cousins were terrified as well, and she did not wish to bring them any more distress. She would have to go with Britu immediately.

Leola thought quickly through everything that she must bring with her. She was dressed, and her hair was braided. The only things she needed were Owain's ring and knife, both of which she had on her, tucked into her apron string.

There was but one thing she must do before she left.

Leola walked inside and addressed her aunt.

“This is farewell, Redburga,” she said.

“Farewell, Leola,” Redburga replied, her eyes teary.

Leola wrapped her arms around her aunt and then her weeping cousins.

“Do you have to go?” they cried.

“Yea,” Leola replied. “I must. Perhaps I shall return some day.”

But she doubted greatly that she ever could.

They clung to her until their mother pulled them off, and Leola felt her heart ripping with them. She did not understand the torment within herself. This was not home to her, yet she still did not want to leave them. They were what she knew and everything she had. Her family. Her people. Her culture.

Leola did not know this faraway place of Venta, or the aunt and uncle of Owain's, or anything else about the thoughts or habits of the Britisc people. She did not want to find out.

But if Leola tarried, she felt sure that Britu would actually hurt someone.

Without another word, she forced herself away from them and slowly walked out the door to her fate.