The Dragon Prince (25 page)

Eastra felt like squirming. It was
unsettling to have this woman guess her less than honorable
thoughts. She
had
plotted to distract Rhun from his
obligations to his king, to make him care more for her than for the
cause he fought for. Thinking about it, she felt devious and
heartless.

“Come. I tire of these men with their loud
drunkenness. Let’s go to my chamber where we can talk.”

Eastra followed Morguese among the twisting
shadows. After the darkness of the fortress yard, the queen’s
chamber seemed to glow with warmth and light. Although Eastra had
been there before the feast, she’d been too anxious then take note
of the furnishings and appreciate the heady private world Morguese
had created.

The walls were hung with rich tapestries,
the floor covered with mats and furs and cushions. The two bronze
lamps that lit the room were fashioned in the shape of elegant
beasts—one a sort of deer, the other a bird with arched, delicate
wings. The motif of animals appeared everywhere. The carved wooden
table had claw-like feet. Proud dragons’ heads rose from each
corner of the bed.

The other impression was of color—rich gold,
scarlet, deep blues and greens, pale saffron, rose, and lavender.
Compared to the spare, open rooms of Roman houses, or even the
crowded interior of a Saxon hall, this place appeared crammed to
bursting. Chests and baskets were piled around, masses of clothing
hung from a pole, small jars, bowls, and boxes covered every
surface. And emanating from this mass of luxury was a multitude of
exotic odors—spices and crushed herbs and other less identifiable
scents. It was a feast for the senses, a dizzying swirl of color,
shape, and fragrance—confusing, beguiling, and somehow disturbing.
Here Eastra could clearly feel Morguese’s power.

The queen seated herself on a cushion on the
floor and smoothed her skirts around her. She pointed to a cushion
nearby. “Sit. I will have Nevyn bring us some wine.”

Eastra saw that the small red-haired girl
had followed them. She was like a shadow, moving so silently and
stealthily it was unnerving. Eastra examined Nevyn more closely as
the young woman fetched a ewer and some cups from a corner of the
room. Nevyn had speckled skin like the wet-nurse slave in
Londinium, and her eyes were pale and almost colorless. She poured
a cup of wine each for Morguese and Eastra, then one for herself.
Then, with the delicate grace of a cat, she took a seat on a
cushion nearby.

“Ah,” Morguese said. “Now there are three of
us. A much more fortuitous number than two.” Eastra realized they
were seated in a kind of circle, almost exactly the same distance
apart. Morguese nodded to the girl. “Nevyn is my apprentice. I
wanted to pass on my knowledge to someone and since, alas, I have
no daughters, I had to find a likely young woman to train. Nevyn is
from Ireland. She was shipwrecked on the coast of Powys, the only
survivor. No one wanted her for a slave, but I saw immediately she
had some natural aptitude.” Morguese turned her attention to
Eastra. “And now I have you as well.”

A shiver afflicted Eastra. She’d thought she
wanted to learn some of Morguese’s magic, but now that it was
actually going to happen, she was frightened. What sort of strange
business was she getting involved in? What would Rhun think if he
knew? Somehow, she did not think he would approve.

“Most men abhor women of power,” Morguese
said, as if reading Eastra’s thoughts. “Even my husband only
tolerates my abilities. He sees me as a kind of weapon he can use
against his enemies, but he must be careful the blade does not cut
him, too.” She smiled faintly.

Eastra felt a sudden panic. Morguese’s words
alarmed her, and the small, crowded chamber seemed to grow close.
She wanted to run away, to escape. But if she showed her fear,
Morguese might be offended. And she needed Morguese’s help to free
Rhun.

“Don’t worry,” Morguese said. “You need only
journey as far as you want to—for tonight, at least. Now, close
your eyes. Nay, before you do that, take off your sandals and
unloosen the girdle around your waist. It is best to be naked, but
I doubt you are ready for that.”

Eastra did as she was told. As she resumed
her seat on the cushion, Morguese added, “Remove your earrings and
necklace. Metal is a thing fashioned by men and does not please the
Lady.”

As she removed her earrings, the sense of
unease built inside Eastra. Without jewelry she felt naked. Cerdic
had taught her she must always wear some sort of ornament as a mark
of her status. Even while posing as a slave, she had continued to
wear the necklace Rhun had purchased for her in Londinium under her
gown and small bronze earbobs in her ears. “I will take off the
earrings, but I would rather not remove the necklace. It was a gift
and is made of glass more than metal.”

Morguese shook her head. “Glass is also made
by men, a mimicry of the jewels that grow naturally in the depths
of the Mother.”

Reluctantly, Eastra removed the necklace. It
was as if all the ties that bound her to the past had been severed.
All she wore now was the gown Morguese had given her.

“Aye, you must leave the past behind to go
into the future.” Morguese smiled faintly. “Now, close your eyes.
Place your hands on your knees and listen to your heartbeat.”

Eastra obeyed.

Morguese continued speaking, her voice low
and vibrant. “Feel the blood pulsing through you, flowing along
your veins. It is warm and full of life. Salty and sweet like the
rivers and oceans of the Mother’s body. Feel how the blood warms
your flesh and makes it alive. Feel your bones beneath the flesh.
They are the last part of a babe to be formed, to grow hard and
rigid. They will be the last part of you to decay into the earth,
to turn to dust and return to the Mother.

“Breathe. Feel the air enter your lungs and
give you life. When a babe takes the first breath at birth, it
cries in pain as its spirit enters its body. And someday your
spirit will leave your body with one last sighing breath.”

Eastra felt strange. Morguese’s voice seemed
to reach inside her, making her aware of her body in a way she had
never been before. It was startling and yet intriguing.

“If you were a man,” Morguese continued,
“that would be the end of the mystery. But you are woman, so there
is more. Deep within your body is your womb. It grows and recedes
in rhythm to the moon’s light. In the blood of your womb is
power—that is why men abhor it. You have the ability to create
life, a great gift. In that way, you are as powerful as the
Goddess. But to make a babe, you must open yourself to a man, take
his seed and nurture it inside you. Be careful how you choose, what
man you lie with, for if you make a babe with him, the tie between
you can never truly be severed.”

Eastra thought of Rhun inside her, under the
great oak, loving her. She was glad she had opened herself to him.
She hoped Morguese’s words were true, that the bond she felt
between them was forever. Except they had not conceived a babe—at
least not that she knew. A shiver went through her at the thought a
babe might be growing inside her.

“Now, feel your breasts. Feel their
heaviness. Feel them fill with milk to feed your babe. Pale,
glistening milk, as magical as any of the Mother’s gifts.”

Her breasts did feel heavy, swollen, the
nipples distended and pricking against the smooth fabric of her
gown. But that was impossible. Even if she were with child, it was
too soon for there to be any signs. Not one full day had passed
since Rhun and she had lain together. But there also seemed to be a
weight in her belly, a kind of movement...

Disturbed by the sensations she felt, Eastra
opened her eyes.

“Frightened?” Morguese asked.

She nodded.

“That means you were very close to ‘seeing.’
The trick is to get beyond the fear, to allow yourself to go where
the Goddess leads.”

“No,” Eastra said. Her vague unease had
become a kind of dread.

Morguese shrugged. “So you are not ready. It
does not matter. The Goddess is patient. Many people ignore Her all
their lives, and She still does not turn from them.” She rose
gracefully.

Eastra worried that despite her words,
Morguese was angry. What if Morguese refused to help her?

The queen went to the table and poured water
on some herbs burning in a bowl. Their soothing scent was replaced
by a damp, earthy smell. Eastra got to her feet. “Wait.
Please.”

Morguese cocked her head and looked at her,
her green eyes opaque and unfathomable.

“I came here because I thought... I thought
you might help me.”

“Help you?”

Eastra nodded. “Somehow I must see that
Prince Rhun is freed. It’s my fault he lost his temper and drew his
knife.”

“What else?”

“Then... we must leave this place. What your
husband is doing is wrong. He has no right to hold us prisoner!”
Eastra grew bolder as her indignation caught fire. If Urien kept
them here and his meddling caused the truce to be broken, there
would be more bloodshed and suffering. “You said yourself he was
trying to control things he should not, that you have seen what the
future holds.”

Morguese’s face was still unreadable. “So
you believe I should go against my husband’s orders and set you
free?”

Eastra nodded. “You said your power was
greater than his. If you do not fear him, then do what is
right!”

Morguese laughed. “What an innocent you are.
Right and wrong are terms men have made up to justify their
actions. What must be,
will
be. That is the Goddess’s
way.”

“You won’t help us?” Eastra felt the anger
drain out of her. She felt tired and defeated.

“I didn’t say that, only that it isn’t time
yet. There is a purpose to your being here. Until I know what it
is, I will not aid you in leaving.”

Eastra released a sigh. At least there was
some hope Morguese would help them escape eventually. Perhaps it
was just as well to wait. She did not really have the energy to
rescue Rhun and ride off this very night. A few days more should
not matter. “Thank you,” she told Morguese. “If you will at least
consider helping us, I would be most grateful.”

Morguese smiled. “I hope you feel that way
when the time comes. Things have a way of turning out much
differently than we expect.”

Eastra was too tired to argue. All at once
she felt dead on her feet.

“Nevyn,” Morguese spoke briskly. “Show
Eastra where she will sleep. It’s not luxurious, but then, a slave
can hardly complain.”

Morguese obviously knew she was not a slave,
Eastra mused as she followed Nevyn to a small adjoining chamber. So
why she kept up the pretense?

Nevyn indicated a straw-filled pallet on the
floor, and Eastra sank down on the pallet gratefully. All she
wanted to do was close her eyes and forget everything.

* * *

Rhun paced across the tiny chamber, then
back again, the straw on the floor making a swishing sound against
his boots.

For all its smallness, his prison was
reasonably furnished. There was a chamber pot in one corner, a
faded blanket in the other. His host had even seen fit to provide
him with a jar of water and a leather pouch full of bread and
cheese. He would not starve nor be too uncomfortable.

But he might go mad from sheer aggravation,
he thought as he paced. How could he have let Urien goad him into
such outrageous behavior? He’d never before acted like such a rash,
hot-tempered fool!

It boggled his mind to think of it. All
these years he’d prided himself on being able to keep his head, to
deal with his opponents skillfully and cunningly. And now, when it
was more important than ever, he’d made a complete dolt of
himself.

What would it have mattered if Urien had
forced Eastra to dance? It would not have killed her, even if it
did cause her embarrassment and upset. He had to put things into
perspective. He was responsible for keeping their hostage
physically safe, not protecting her from every distress
imaginable.

But the fact was, he wanted to protect
Eastra from everything. Lock her away in a safe, comfortable
chamber and make certain she never suffered or wanted for a thing
the rest of her life. He wanted to make it all up to her, the
degradation of being a slave, the loss of her family, every hurt
that had ever been inflicted on her.

But he could not. Nor should he try.

He sighed heavily. Somehow, he had to
overcome his obsession with Eastra and concentrate on escaping.
Once he was out of Caer Louarn, he must find Arthur and tell him
what had happened, warn him that Urien, and perhaps other
chieftains, were working against him.

But Eastra—how could he leave her? He had
to. She would be safe enough. If Urien had intended to harm her, he
would have done so already. Besides, if Bridei remained behind, he
could protect her. Despite his doubts about his brother, Rhun did
not believe Bridei would allow anything too terrible happen to
their hostage.

Rhun sighed again and paced back across the
chamber.

* * *

Over the next few days, Eastra followed
Morguese and Nevyn everywhere, assisting the younger woman when
necessary, but mostly watching as Morguese ordered the day-to-day
activities of the fortress—overseeing food preparation and storage,
the weaving, dying, and sewing of cloth, the cleaning and
refurbishing of the hall. Morguese also took Eastra and Nevyn into
the forest several times, ostensibly for the purpose of gathering
herbs. Morguese pointed out numerous plants and explained some of
their uses, and they filled their gathering baskets heaping full.
But Eastra sensed Morguese had another purpose in leaving the
fortress. She seemed to be searching for something. Her manner was
quiet and contemplative, absorbed in her own thoughts.