The Dragon Prince (22 page)

Eastra nodded. She felt so bad for him.
Because of her, he was in this predicament. If she had not wandered
off and then enticed him, they would have been with the others and
he would have remained on his guard. He might have spotted the
enemy troop before they could be captured. She repressed a sigh. If
she’d brought danger to him, she’d never forgive herself.

They reached the others. There were about
twenty foreign warriors gathered around them. Their captors were
dressed similarly to the other Britons, although some wore feathers
and animal skins as a kind of badge or personal symbol. Their
swords were drawn as they surrounded Rhun’s men. Eastra looked
around for Bridei. He was standing off to the side, appearing
utterly calm and unruffled.

The man who had spoken earlier said, “These
two.” He gestured to Rhun and Bridei. “They’ll be going with us to
Caer Louarn. And the woman. As for the rest of them, take their
horses.”

The warriors sprang into action, herding
Rhun’s men into a group, then gathering up the horses and tying the
animals’ leads to their own mounts.

“Will we be allowed to ride?” Rhun asked. He
was glowering. A muscle twitched in his jaw.

“Aye,” the enemy leader answered. ‘The woman
can travel with you.”

“Why not leave her here?” Rhun said. “I
can’t think Urien would be interested in a Saxon slave girl I
purchased in Londinium.”

The man regarded Eastra carefully. Her face
grew hot as his eyes roved over her. “Oh, he might well be
interested in her.” He grinned.

“And what of Morguese?” Rhun demanded. “I
can’t think she would tolerate her husband keeping a foreign
concubine in her household.”

The man shrugged. “That is for the two of
them to decide. If nothing else, the Saxon would fetch a good price
as a bedslave.”

“She’s not for sale!” Rhun spoke sharply. He
took a step toward the man.

The man laughed. “I wasn’t proposing to
purchase her. She’s Urien’s captive, just as you are.” His smile
widened. “I wonder how much your father, the great Dragon, would be
willing to pay to ransom his sons?”

“Not much.” Bridei stepped forward. “I’m
sure he believes he is well rid of us. He has never reconciled
himself to the fact that my brother went off to fight for Arthur’s
cause. As for me...” He shrugged. “He sent me away from his
fortress some years ago. I suspect he’d just as soon not have us
back.”

“We shall see,” was all the man said. “It’s
up to Urien to decide anyway.”

Rhun and Bridei were ordered to mount up,
although not on the horses they usually rode. Rhun helped Eastra
into the saddle of a roan mare, then climbed up behind her. They
started off. The enemy leader—whom Eastra had heard one man refer
to as “Caw”—rode in front. Then came another warrior, then she and
Rhun, and then several more warriors. Some distance back, Bridei
was accompanied by the rest of the force.

“Who’s Urien?’ Eastra whispered after they’d
gone a short distance.

“A typical British chieftain,” Rhun said. It
sounded as if he were gritting his teeth. “Answers to no man and
claims total authority over his own domain.”

“Is he Arthur’s enemy?”

“I don’t know. I’m not certain what he wants
with us. Perhaps only to gloat over the fact he captured us so
easily.” He swore.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “If I hadn’t
gotten lost, none of this would have happened.”

“It would have changed nothing. They’d
simply have waited for another opportunity to come upon us
unawares. They have been following us since yesterday.”

“How do you know?”

Rhun shook his head. “I felt them. But I
couldn’t see them, so I couldn’t act on my fears.”

“But why did they follow us? What do they
want?”

He shook his head grimly. “We’ll have to
wait until we arrive at Urien’s fortress to find that out.”

She sighed and shifted on the horse. Her
crotch felt damp and sore, and without the loincloth to protect her
privates, every step the horse took seemed to aggravate her
discomfort. If her experience with Rhun was near to perfect bliss,
this was the very opposite.

The forest grew denser, more impenetrable,
the trail narrower. They finally had to ride single file. The air
was thick and heavy, filled with moisture from all the growing
things. Eastra thought of the tales of the forest in her people’s
homeland across the sea. Stories of people lost in the woods
forever, eaten by wolves or dragged underground by malevolent
spirits. She shivered. This place seemed gloomy and uninhabitable.
What did the people who lived here do for food? There was no
cleared land to grow crops. Did they survive by hunting deer and
boar and gathering berries and nuts in season?

Then, abruptly, the forest thinned, and she
could see animals had been grazing under the trees, keeping the
brush down. The trees grew sparser still, and they were in a region
of mixed forest and grassland. She saw black and brown cattle
grazing and some pigs rooting at the edges of the pasture. They
reached cleared land, planted with strips of rye and barley, but no
wheat. Further on were outbuildings and small, round wooden
dwellings. At last, they came in sight of the fortress. It was
built on a hilltop and protected by a ditch and a high palisade
that was partly timber and partly stone.

“Urien’s fortress?” she asked.

Rhun nodded. Eastra felt another wave of
foreboding. The place looked well-defended and secure; it would not
be easy for them to escape.

They followed a trackway up the hill, and
the leader of the captors, Caw, shouted up something to the man in
the tower guarding the gate. The big timber gate creaked open, and
they rode in.

In the muddy yard, which seemed crammed to
bursting with people, dogs, and livestock, Caw’s men began to
dismount and hand their horses off to servants. As Rhun climbed
down and reached up to help her off their horse, Eastra saw Caw
approach. He motioned curtly. “Come with me.”

He led them toward a huge round timber
structure. Thinking of her disheveled appearance, Eastra quickly
ran her hands over her hair and tried to smooth her gunna.

Rhun glanced back at her. “Remember,” he
whispered, “you’re supposed to be a slave.” Eastra jerked her hands
away from her hair. She must do her best to uphold Rhun’s story,
not merely for her own safety, but to please him. She still felt
guilty they had been captured because of her selfish actions.

The structure they entered had one huge room
with a hearth in the center. Furs and bright weavings hung from the
walls, and the several supporting columns had been ornately carved
and then painted with the images of strange faces and wild beasts.
Around the hearth, several stools and low tables were arranged, and
at the far end sat a man in a tall wooden chair. Numerous fox
pelts, the heads still attached, hung from the chair. The man had
long dark hair and a full beard growing gray, and his face was
craggy and weathered.

Observing this impressive chieftain and the
barbaric splendor of his dwelling, Eastra’s spirits sank. Urien
reminded her of Cerdic. The same shrewd, ruthless aura of power
surrounded both men.

“Rhun ap Maelgwn!” The man’s voice rumbled
through the room. “I have not seen you since you were but a
stripling. You’ve grown up fine and tall like your father. And
Bridei.” The man’s dark eyes fixed on Rhun’s brother with fierce
cunning. “I was surprised to hear you had joined the great Arthur’s
cause.” His lip curled in contempt. “I thought you had more sense
than that.”

Eastra had almost forgotten about Bridei, so
focused she was on Rhun and what had happened between them. She
watched Rhun’s brother smile one of his dazzlingly ingratiating
smiles as he answered, “I had nothing better to do, King Urien. And
as you remember, I like being in the middle of things.”

“Ah,” Urien said, “so I do. Well, Morguese
will be pleased to see you. She was off in the forest when word
came of your arrival. She’ll be here soon.”

“By then we intend to be on our way!” Rhun’s
voice rang out, as harsh and commanding as Urien’s. “You have no
right to hold us prisoner. We’ve interfered in no way with your
authority or your lands!”

Urien drew back his massive fur and
leather-clad frame and his eyes narrowed. “You crossed my lands
without my permission. I consider
that
interfering with my
authority.”

She heard Rhun exhale in exasperation. “And
how were we to get that permission without crossing those lands to
speak to you? You know very well I and many others have often taken
this route on our journey to Gwynedd.”

“But you had no intention of stopping, did
you? Although my wife is kin of yours, you did not think to visit
her, nor to afford me—the chieftain of these lands—the courtesy of
offering you the hospitality of a meal. Instead, you ride across my
domain like a pack of sneaking cattle thieves.”

Eastra felt Rhun’s tension increase, as if
he wanted to spring on Urien and throttle him. She held her breath,
terrified that if Rhun made such a move, Urien’s guards would
injure or kill him.

Then Bridei spoke, his voice cool and
mellifluous after Rhun’s aggressive tones. “I urged him to stop.
But my brother is an impatient man, eager to be home and bring his
stepmother the gifts we bought her in Londinium. He knew if we
stopped at your dun, courtesy would demand we share a meal with
you. Then Morguese would beg us to stay and entertain her with news
of the world outside Rheged. Our visit might well drag on several
days. Meanwhile, Rhun is anxious to pay his respects to his family
and return to Arthur’s camp. There is peace between Arthur and the
Saxons for now, but...” Bridei shrugged expressively. “You know how
the Saxon kind are. In a day or a week, they might decide they
don’t yet have enough land and break the truce.”

Urien cocked his head, as if considering
Bridei’s explanation. Then he looked directly at Eastra. “You speak
disparagingly of the Saxons, yet you travel with one of their kind
in your company.”

“A new maidservant for my lady mother,
Rhiannon,” Bridei answered. “We purchased her in Londinium. Her
needlework is said to be superb. I thought my mother would be
delighted to learn Saxon sewing techniques. Eastra is of noble
family. All of her kin were killed years ago in a raid. She’s been
a slave ever since.”

Urien grunted, appearing unconvinced. “Hard
to imagine she is not a bedslave, with a face like that.” He
smirked at her.

Eastra felt Rhun go rigid next to her, but
Bridei answered, “Believe it or not, her skill in needlework makes
her worth more than any pleasure she could give a man in bed. There
are many beautiful Saxon women, but few of them are skilled
seamstresses. And, as I said, she is a gift for my mother, not my
father.”

“Not that your father would even look at
her,” Urien said. “He is bewitched by his red-haired spouse, just
as I am by my own lovely Morguese.” He smiled as he looked toward
the door. Before she turned to see the woman who must be Morguese,
Eastra noted Urien’s smile was faintly mocking.

Eastra had never seen a woman like Morguese
of Rheged. Once she had undoubtedly been spectacularly beautiful,
with dark red hair that hung to her knees, pale, creamy skin and
eyes there were neither green nor gray but a touch of both, like
the glistening foam on a storm-tossed sea. But time had made
inroads into her beauty. There were strands of white in her thick
hair and faint lines marring her haughty features. Even so, time
had not altered the aura of power that surrounded her. Eastra could
not put her finger on what made this woman such a jolt to the
senses. Although she was not much taller than Eastra, somehow she
seemed to fill the room, dwarfing even Urien’s feral menace.

“Bridei, my darling cousin.” Morguese came
forward and kissed Bridei full on the lips. Then Morguese
approached Rhun. “Rhun, what a delight to see you again after all
these years.” Eastra watched in shock as Morguese planted a very
uncousinlike kiss on
his
lips. Rhun all but squirmed until
Morguese moved away, trailing some exotic, heady scent in her wake.
She faced her husband. “What brings my darling kin to Caer
Louarn?”

“They came to visit you on their way to
Gwynedd,” Urien answered with an innocent smile.

For a moment, Eastra thought that Urien was
lying to cover up the fact that he had really kidnapped Morguese’s
“darling kin.” Then she saw the faint, knowing look on Morguese’s
face and realized Urien’s wife was well aware of what he was about.
“How delightful,” Morguese said, her face cat-like with
contentment. “We must insist they enjoy our hospitality a good long
while.”

“Damn Urien! He’s playing some sort of game
with us!” Rhun paced across the bedchamber where he and Bridei had
been taken, after being told to dress for the welcoming feast. “You
know he isn’t simply detaining us here so his wife can enjoy the
pleasure of our company! I vow he has some more sinister scheme in
mind!”

Bridei shrugged nonchalantly and pulled on
an embroidered tunic. “So he’s lying through his teeth. So what?
There’s nothing we can do about it. We’ll just have to wait and see
if we can either escape or convince Urien to free us.”

“And you!” Rhun resisted the familiar urge
to grab his brother and shake him. “You appear utterly unperturbed
by all of this. Why is that, I wonder? Did you know all along this
was going to happen?”

“How would I know? I’ve been with you every
moment since we left Londinium.”

“That’s just the point.” Rhun decided to
give voice to his vague suspicions. “In Londinium, you went off to
do your spying, and ever since then, disturbing things have been
happening.”

“You were attacked in Londinium and now
we’re being detained by one of Arthur’s enemies—and you think to
blame me?” Bridei shook his head. “You’re grasping, brother. You
knew this mission had its dangers. It’s pretty harsh to blame me
for every misfortune that befalls us. After all, we’re on the same
side.”