The Beast of Caer Baddan (34 page)

The carriages were prepared for the next day, and King Irael planned to leave at the midmorning sun.

Britu knew that it was nothing to his mother to go, for she was a strong woman, but he felt that she should not.

“He is my brother,” she said to him.

“And when our clan should hear of this Gewissae woman and reject her child as an

Andoco?”
Britu said. “Should we too be connected with the humiliation?”

“That is the way Aurelius will have it,” the queen replied. “That is the way it must be.”

Leola did not mind the journey but prayed that it would be the last travel. She rubbed her growing belly and lay back on the cushions.

“Are you comfortable, Mistress?” Gytha asked.

It still sounded a strange title to Leola, for she had always called others “mistress” and “master” but had never been addressed that way herself.

There is much I shall have to get used to
.

“Yea.
As much as I can be,” she said aloud. “My back hurts from walking up and down all those silly stairs and my feet are swollen.”

The carriage jerked, throwing Gytha against the wooden wall.

They laughed.

“Are you all right?” Leola asked.

“Yea, Mistress,” Gytha replied, still laughing. “And you?”

“I hope all this moving about does not bring me to labor."

“Why not?” Gytha said. “That baby has gotten so big, I should think it was time."

Leola look down at her growing belly and her eyes soften at the thought. “He is big, isn't he?
But no. I have three more months at least."

“I suppose he may turn out to be a giant."

They laughed again, but Leola secretly knew how true those words might be. Owain had towered over her like an oak tree. It was possible that his child may grow to be the same way.

The rough road became too much for Leola.

“I think I shall be ill,” she moaned.

Gytha rapped on the front to tell the driver to stop, and Leola heard the entire

caravan come to a halt.

“What are you doing?” Leola gasped.

“I'm supposed to look after you, Mistress,” Gytha said. “Come on. You need air. It would not do for you to faint.”

Gytha stepped out and then she and one of the guards took Leola by her arms and brought her out to the grass.

“Now just breath and relax,” Gytha said. “Do you want to walk around?”

Leola was so relieved to be out of the carriage that she did not find words to speak and simply nodded her head in affirmation.

They walked around in small spirals. Leola felt her larger body weighing heavily on the smaller girl, but Gytha did not seem to notice.

“Are you any better?” Gytha asked.

“The fresh air helps,” Leola replied. “At least I have stopped vomiting.”

“You have been vomiting, Mistress?”

“I had been every day for a few months and sometimes more. It is so strange that walking around should make me feel better. My feet are so swollen.”

Leola remembered how her ankle had been twisted and swollen, and how she had to limp everywhere.

Can I do this for three more months?

“It shall be all the more rewarding when you hold the child in your arms, Mistress,” Gytha said.

“Yea,” Leola replied. “Call me Leola, Gytha.”

The girl stared at her in horror.

“I could never!” she cried.

“No one can understand us,” Leola said, with a smile. “I should feel more myself.”

“I could not, Mistress,” Gytha replied.

Leola decided not to press the issue but she hoped that the girl would change her mind.

She glanced up at the road to see Queen Severa peering out of her own carriage.

Why are you glaring at me? What is it that you think I have done?

“I wish I was back in Anlofton with my aunt,” she said aloud.

Gytha gave her an encouraging squeeze on the arm.

“Better help me back in the carriage,” Leola said. “I think this must be a very long

journey
.”

Leola's assessment proved correct, for although the road was smooth and afforded few turns along its course, it was late in the evening before the caravan arrived at their destination.

Baddan, was no more grandiose then Venta had been before it. The stone walls, iron gates, and long linen banners attested to its grandeur. But Leola's curiosity of the place was heightened by Owain's reference to it. She marveled at it, and hardly thought to compare it to the city she had left behind.

The castle was open and stately, as if it expected dignitaries from the far corners of the

island to visit there. Each room connected to another by a grand arched doorway and large heavy doors, and the gray stone walls were covered by colorful drapes.

“I think this is the most glorious place I have ever seen,” Leola said.

“Good,” King Irael replied, when Gytha had translated the words into Brythonic for him. “From now on it shall be your home. Now, this is Tuathal, the steward,” and he indicated a well-dressed servant standing nearby. “He shall show you to your rooms. If you need anything, he shall get it for you. Severa, a moment.”

King Irael directed his sister to one of the sitting rooms off the side of the front hall, and Leola's eyes followed them as they went.

What are you going to talk about? Owain? Me? My baby?

“Princess?” the steward said, indicating that she should follow him.

It seemed an easy title on his lips, but Gytha did not seem to know how to translate it into Saxon and so simply repeated the word “princess.”

It was what King Irael had called her the day before, not unlike what they had called Owain.

I am a princess now
.

She was not sure what it meant but the thought still filled her with awe.

As she turned to follow him into a passageway, a tiny gasp caught her ear.

“What?” Leola said.

Turning around, she saw a small child hidden behind a curtain and peering out at her, only to hide back again.

“Who is that?” Leola asked.

“That is Lady Gratianna, Princess,” the steward replied. “She is Prince Owain's daughter. The mother is married now in the north.”

That confirms that suspicion
.

For although Leola's assumption about Owain having many wives had proven false, she still felt justified in her thought of him. Owain had had a child, even though that child’s mother had not been married to him.

“I'm very sorry for her, then,” Leola said, in a quiet voice.

“She is a good little girl. I hope you like her, Princess.”

“I am sure I shall.”

They went down the passageway to the very end, where the steward opened up the large wooden doors.

“Here are your chambers, Princess,” he said. “These rooms were chosen for their warmth and of course for being on the ground floor. If you wish to change them, I shall show you the others.”

Leola looked around. The room was large and spacious with tall slender windows

overlooking the garden. Wide animal skin rugs were spread across the floor. The dark wood of the carved furniture was polished until it shined.

“Oh, no,” Leola said. “This is quite beautiful. I love it.”

“Excellent,” the steward replied.

He went to the far end of the room and opened up the doors so she could see the rest of the chambers.

“Well, out with it,” King Irael said.

Queen Severa did not pretend to misunderstand him, for she set her cup aside and gave her brother a serious stare.

“You are in mourning, Aurelius,” she said. “You cannot really believe that a decision of this magnitude can be evaluated with clarity when you are still lamenting your son. I'm not

saying
do not mourn, brother, for I know that you loved him. We all loved him. But are you

certain
that your judgment is not affected by your grief?”

King Irael gave a sorry laugh.

“I am sure that my judgment is affected, Severa,” he replied. “But when shall I stop mourning for my son? When this child is born? When he is seven, twelve, twenty? I do not believe I even can stop mourning. Owain was everything to me. Everything I had left of my Elen. I shall always weep for my son.”

His sister nodded her understanding, and though he knew by her resolute face that she disagreed.

“Then I shall try to help,” she said, with a sigh. “I shall stay the week and see her comfortable, and I shall return again when she has her labor. You may keep the servant girl, Gytha here if you like.”

King Irael took her slender hands and kissed each on.

“Thank you, Sister,” he said, with a grateful smile. “Now no more gloomy talk. Where is that cake I ordered?”

The servants were called to get it and soon carried in
a newly baked sweet bread.

“Oh, Aurelius!”
Queen Severa said in reproach. “You always eat too many sweet things. You know it is not good for your heart.”

“Do not scold me now,” King Irael replied, his voice laughing. “Scold me tomorrow.

Today, let us enjoy ourselves.”

He saw her reluctance, but with his prompting, she soon gave in and ate with him. But for a moment, the sweet taste seeping into his tongue carried the thoughts of his son just a little further away from his weary heart.