The Beast of Caer Baddan (39 page)

On the morning of the second day, Leola found the king's condition improved and his manner grew cheerful.

“Come in. Come in, Leola.” King Irael said, with a broad smile on his tired face. “I am told to rest and eat soup, so you must now eat meat for the both of us.”

Leola had to smile at his jesting. “We were very worried for you, Father,” she said.

“I have had far worse and lived,” the king replied. “Sit down here beside me. I have been ordered not to move but I can still talk.”

She came into the sitting room and sat down on a chair by the bench were he lay. “What do you want to talk about?” she asked.

“Tell me about
yourself,” he said. “You are a Christian?”

“Yea.
I am. How did you know?”

“You cross yourself when you pray.”

“I do, don't I?” Leola said, and smiled again. “I think you must be the first Britisc to notice that.”

Yet once she had spoken she knew that there had been another before. She suspected that she had made the sign of the cross when she had been sitting in the dark mead hall. She now wondered if Owain had seen that.

“My parents converted when I was quite young,” she said aloud. “I do not remember it. They brought me up in the old way but also as a Christian.”

“I was raised in the old ways, the pagan ways, as well, but they were Brythonic and Roman,” the king replied. “I converted to marry, for Elen was a Christian. My sister Severa and our younger brother also converted at that time, and one of my uncles had converted before, but our parents never did. My wife's family had been Christian for a long time even before it was legal to be.”

Leola realized that he was very different from the Saex cynings, whom she knew had many wives all at once. King Irael had only one, and even when she died, he did not remarry.

“Where were you born?” the king asked.

“In Holton.”

“And your siblings?”

Leola struggled to find the words that she meant to say. “I had twin brothers younger than me, but they died soon after they were born.”

“My younger brother died in an accident a few years ago,” the king said.

They talked on about family, death, and war. Leola explained to him how her father had been sued in court when their goat went wild and injured a neighbor's son. The earlmann paid it out in full for him and had allowed him to repay him slowly with a part of his income every month. Then small pox had spread through the busy town of Hol and claimed many lives, including both of her parents’. Ardith, the earlmann’s daughter, had befriended her even when her status in the community had sunk to a lowly servant.

King Irael recalled Owain's training out in the field as a boy, and the first wild boar Owain had fought.

“He never recovered from his mother's death,” the king said. “It broke his heart. As his death has broken mine.”

Leola felt a pang of sorrow for him.

“Father,” she said, hesitating.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Are you ill because of Owain's death?”

King Irael became quiet, retreating into his thoughts and for a moment Leola thought he was ignoring her.

“I have always been physically weak,” he said at last.
“Ever since that horrible fever in Gaul. War here in Glouia and my wife's death made me weaker still. And gave me gray hair. Owain was the last thing I had to live for.”

Leola took him gently by the hand. “But you have Gratianna and this baby both,” she said. “That is much to live for.”

“True,” he replied. “And you, Daughter. I have you to live for as well.”

Leola's heart swelled up with joy.

“It is just so difficult to reject both sweets and meat!” the king cried.

He laughed, and she had to laugh as well.

Owain squirmed in discomfort.

“You are too warm, I think,” said that strange voice.

It was so absent and haunting, as if it really did not expect an answer of Owain but enjoyed conversing with nothing at all.

“Da,” Owain moaned.

Where was his father? Where were his friends? For that matter, where was Owain himself?

“Da,” was the only thing that escaped Owain's tired lips.

“You are angry with me, Da,” Owain said.

He had felt his father's grave eyes on him the entire ride back to the city. Now that they were inside the bath house, out of the presence of their clansman, Owain wished for either confirmation or contradiction of his suspicions.

“No, never,” King Irael replied.

“Then why are you solemn?” Owain asked.

“You are so young to possess so much power, my son,” King Irael replied. “You do not have the maturity that usually accompanies it.”

“You think I act like a child,” Owain said, annoyed.

“I think you should try to consider a situation more before you call others to fight,” the king replied. “There were six deaths today, and that is a great victory, but I wonder if there needed to be six.”

“What would you have had me do?” Owain asked.

“Seek first the peaceful way,” the king replied. “If war comes to you, fight it and win it, but do not call men out to fight you. There is an invisible wall between hero and tyrant, a wall that my own father did not realize he had crossed. See that you never make that fateful step.”

“Of course, Da,” Owain replied.

“Here,” King Irael said.

He took one of the rings off of his right hand and placed it in the center of Owain's palm.

“What is this, Da?” Owain asked.

“It is the ring that my grandfather had made for me when I married your dear mother,” the king replied. “It was formed to match the design on Calybs Sword of Togadum. I want you to have it.”

“But-”

“Take it.”

The king embraced Owain once more.

“Now get out of this armor and take a long bath,” he said, with a laugh. “You smell like grass.”

The king strode out the door, leaving the servants began to undress Owain.

Owain mind was so consumed by his conquest, his mother's memory, and the ring in his hand that he soon forgot his father's important words.

Chapter Thirty One: A Plot

“Excuse me, King,” the steward said.
“Eisu Lord of the Dobunni to see you. Do you want me to let him in?”

“I shall go to my room and get my sewing,” Leola said.

“Very well, then,” King Irael replied. “Send him in.”

Leola went out, and the steward called the guests in to see the king.

Lord Eisu was a tall broad shouldered man of five and thirty, with a tanned face and dark brown hair. He was dressed in the robes of a prince, with a colorful mantle draped around him and soft slippers on his feet. Prince Inam came in behind him dressed in armor as he had been before. They bowed.

“God keep you, King Irael,” Lord Eisu said.

“God keep you, Lord Eisu,” King Irael replied. “To what do I owe this visit?”

“To unfortunate news and disquieting rumors.
I heard that you were ill, in fact, that you might not live long.”

King Irael laughed. “No. Fate is against that, it would seem.”

“I thank God then.”

“Please, sit.”

Lord Eisu and Prince Inam took the chairs opposite of him.

“I should not wish to distress you, with your illness, King,” Lord Eisu said, “but my chieftains are angry with these new appointments of yours.
The Mayor of Gloui a Silarae and the Mayor of Ceri a Catuvelanni. It is an affront to the Dobunni people.”

“Do not be offended, Lord Eisu,” King Irael said. “I chose those men because of their abilities not their tribes.”

“I know that well, King,” the lord replied. “But my chieftains do not understand. They wish for an explanation of me. I could silence them but where is the harmony of that?”

“No. No. Of course not,” King Irael said. “What would you have me do?”

“Attend the Circle of Chieftains this month,” Lord Eisu said. “Show them that you respect us as any other tribe. Show them that you are concerned for them as their king. That you have forgiven and forgotten the past.”

“That is a wise counsel, Lord Eisu.” King Irael replied. “I shall attend the Circle of Chieftains of the Dobunni.”

“Good. You are sure that the travel shall not be too exuberant for you?” the lord asked.

“I will be up in a week, Lord,” the king replied. “It shall be a slow journey but not a difficult one. You may depend upon my presence.”

“Thank you, King Irael. God keep you.”

“God keep you, Lord.”

The guests rose, bowed to the king, and departed.

King Irael called his scribe to him to mark the date, lest he should forget it.

As Leola strode back down the passageway toward the front hall, she heard two men's voices whispering to each other just ahead of her.

“King Irael must die, Eisu,” one said.

“Patience, Brother. He shall,” Lord Eisu replied. “On the twenty eighth.”

“Then, we shall do it?”

“Silence. Say nothing here.”

Leola saw the men whom she assumed were the Lord of the Dobunni and his brother, Prince Inam. Prince Inam glanced past Lord Eisu into the passageway and stared right into Leola's eyes, as she stopped out of the darkness.

“Has she heard me?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.

Lord Eisu looked over at Leola, but the concern in his eye soon melted to pleasantries.

“It matters not if she hears, Brother,” Lord Eisu replied. “She does not understand any of it. Look at her. She is a Saxon barbarian. She might know Brythonic, but certainly not Latin. We are safe.”

They turned to her then, and with gracious bows, greeted her in Brythonic.

Leola smiled, guessing they had said “God keep you,” and nodded her head to them.

Then they departed in silence.