The Dragon Prince (30 page)

Beli left. A young woman with curly dark
hair and blue eyes came and helped Eastra undress and bathe. Her
bag of possessions had been brought to the room. Thinking she would
not see anyone this night, Eastra put on only a linen shift. Then
she sat on a stool while the servant, Melangel, combed out her damp
hair. They were almost finished smoothing out the tangles when
there was a knock at the door. Eastra stood up quickly, suddenly
aware of her immodest attire.

But it was not Beli bringing her food, but a
small, delicately made woman. Between Melangel’s deference and the
woman’s red hair, Eastra guessed this must be the lady Rhiannon,
Rhun’s stepmother. She smiled warmly at Eastra and held out a
basket. “I’ve brought you some fresh bread and apricots for your
supper. Also a jar of milk. I’ve heard the Saxons enjoy drinking it
even after they’re grown. And it seems like a healthier beverage
than wine or ale.”

“Thank you,” Eastra said. “I do like milk,
and I have not had any for months.” She took the basket, thinking
Lady Rhiannon was not at all what she had expected. Despite her
vivid hair—threaded here and there with strands of pure white—this
queen had none of Morguese’s fiery sensuality. She was cool and
still, her beauty ethereal. With her milk-white skin, heather blue
eyes, and dainty, almost childlike features, she seemed like some
sort of lovely vision conjured out of the mists that drifted over
the hillsides of Gwynedd.

Rhiannon’s smile deepened as Eastra looked
at her. “Were you expecting someone different? Someone more
impressive, perhaps?”

“Of course not,” Eastra answered quickly.
“You’re every bit as beautiful as both Rhun and Bridei said you
were.”

“That is kind of you to say, but after
bearing six children, I’m certain I’ve lost some of my allure. Yet
that’s a small price to pay for the joys of motherhood.”

Eastra couldn’t help glancing at Rhiannon’s
slender form. It was amazing to think this tiny woman had safely
given birth so many times.

Rhiannon observed the direction of her gaze.
“Despite what people think, broad hips do not always mean a safe
delivery,” she said. “Other factors are more important—whether a
woman’s womb opens easily, that the babes are positioned properly,
and the afterbirth is expelled completely. The ability to give
birth safely is often inherited,” Rhiannon continued. “Tell me,
Eastra, did your mother or your aunts have difficulties in
childbed?”

“Nay, not that I know of.”

“Good.” Rhiannon nodded as if satisfied.

Eastra thought that this was a very odd
thing for them to be discussing. Unless Rhiannon could see the
future and knew one day Eastra would be Rhun’s wife and hence, kin
of sorts to Rhiannon. The idea thrilled Eastra. But she could
obviously not ask such a thing. Instead, she said, “I’ve heard you
can see the future. Is that true?”

Rhiannon smiled. “Sometimes I see things and
then they come to pass. But that doesn’t mean I know what’s going
to happen before it does. I get tiny glimpses only, and even then I
don’t always know what they mean, how the pattern fits
together.”

Eastra nodded. “I had a kind of Seeing
myself. It felt like a dream, but I was awake. I saw your stepson,
Rhun, and he seemed terribly distressed, as if he had seen
something horrifying. I worry that he is in danger.” She raised her
gaze to Rhiannon’s. “Do you think it might be a true seeing? Do
you
sense he’s in danger?”

Rhiannon didn’t answer at first. Then she
said, “There are many kinds of danger.” There was something
hesitant and wary in her expression, and Eastra experienced a
twinge of alarm. Rhiannon turned to leave. Eastra wanted to stop
her, to insist she elaborate on her words. But while she was
struggling how to phrase her request, Rhiannon murmured “good
night” and slipped out the door.

Eastra gazed after her in consternation.
Then she shook off the mood and went to fetch the basket of food.
She was very hungry.

* * *

The night was warm and brightly lit by
moonlight. Rhun stood in a clearing just outside the stout timber
walls of Camlann. He was bare to the waist and panting heavily. A
faint breeze riffled his hair and cooled the sweat on his torso.
Taking a deep breath, he raised the heavy broadsword in salute to
his imaginary opponent, then thrust it forward. In his mind, his
opponent met his blow. He twisted, pulling away, then drew back the
weapon once again. It sang through the air, the thin tempered blade
hissing as it barely missed the phantom warrior. Rhun whirled and
brought the sword down in a slashing movement.

He pulled back again, breathing heavily.
Wiping a sweaty hand on his trews, he prepared to continue the
battle. His arms and shoulders ached and perspiration beaded on his
face and body, but he had no intention of stopping until he was so
weary he could scarce walk back to the fortress.

Once again, the sword hummed through the
air, alive, invincible. Rhun felt the trance come over him. No
thought, only instinct. His body moving of its own accord. His mind
blank. Blessed oblivion. A kind of release.

“Still play this foolish game, do you?” The
voice came out of the darkness behind him. In Rhun’s mind, no words
registered, only sound. He whirled and, still in his battle daze,
prepared to kill his opponent. He drew back the sword, then went
limp with sudden awareness. “Bridei, you fool! Don’t you know
better than to surprise me like that?”

“Were you going to kill me?” Bridei stepped
into the moonlight, his smile lazy.

Rhun let out his breath and shook his head.
“Lucky for you, I usually look before I strike. But, damn you, that
was close!”

Bridei motioned to the broadsword in Rhun’s
hand. “I didn’t know you still played at battle games. I thought
you’d outgrown such things. Or is it that you don’t get enough
fighting these days and it makes you restless?”

“It’s not the lack of fighting that makes me
restless, and you know it. Now, tell me, what are you doing here?
What’s happened? Did you get away from Urien? And what about
Eastra? Where is she?”

“One question at a time. First of all,
Eastra is safe and well cared for. By now, she’s at Deganwy, being
fussed over by Gwenaseth and Rhiannon.”

“But how? Did Urien finally agree to let you
leave?”

“Having received word that we were being
held by Urien, our dear father decided to rescue us.” Bridei’s
voice was harsh with sarcasm. “He showed up outside Caer Louarn
with a large troop of warriors. Urien’s no fool. He doesn’t want
war with the Dragon. So he acted as if we were free to leave all
the while.”

“And Maelgwn took Eastra back to
Deganwy?”

Bridei nodded. “And assigned Beli to wait
upon her as if she were royalty. Which she is, of course.”

“And you. Why didn’t you go to Deganwy with
them?”

“You mean, why didn’t I go to my childhood
home, to be welcomed into the bosom of my loving family?” He gave a
snort of disgust. “I mislike heartfelt, tearful reunions. Besides,
Eastra wanted me to find you.”

“So you could let me know that she is
well?”

“Nay, so I could warn you.”

Rhun frowned. “Warn me about what?”

“Well, apparently your little Saxon princess
has been dabbling in the magical arts. She claims to have had a
Seeing, a premonition of what the future holds for you.”

Rhun suddenly felt cold. He’d feared
Morguese’s influence on the innocent Eastra. It appeared he’d been
right to worry. His jaw tightened in fury. “What has Morguese been
up to?” he demanded. “What sort of unchancy business has she
involved Eastra in?”

Bridei shrugged. “Eastra claims she had a
Seeing or a dream or something where she saw you, and you appeared
to be in great turmoil and distress. She wasn’t more specific than
that. I told her you were a big boy and could take care of
yourself, but that didn’t satisfy her. I think if she could get
away, she would come running to your aid herself.”

“Jesu, that would be madness! She must be
protected and guarded at all times. For her to come here now, when
tensions are so high...” Rhun shook his head. There were constant
rumors at Camlann about Cerdic gathering his war host in the east
and having secret meetings with the Picts in the north. Arthur’s
men’s resentment and mistrust of Cerdic might well affect how they
treated Eastra. “Arthur even refused to let me go back for her. He
said as long as I was certain Urien wouldn’t harm her, it served no
purpose for me to leave Camlann when we might be marching to war
any day. I think even he believes the truce is doomed.”

“Ah, so that is why you’re out here, wearing
yourself down in mock combat with an invisible enemy. You feel
guilty about Eastra, so you take it out on yourself.”

Rhun sighed. “It’s complicated. I want to go
to Eastra more than anything. But I know it serves no purpose. As
long as she’s safe, it’s better we’re apart.”

“Why? Are you afraid if you saw her, all
your noble resolve would crumble away? Do you worry you care enough
for her that you might betray your sworn oath, your
duty,
in
order to be with her?”

There was a mocking amusement in Bridei’s
tone that infuriated Rhun. His hand tightened reflexively on his
sword hilt. But then he took a deep breath. There was no point
being angry at his brother for stating the truth. That was
exactly
what he feared. It was as if a battle was going on
inside him—a battle between his feelings for Eastra and the very
essence of his responsibilities as a soldier. “I never thought I
could feel this way about a woman.”

“Well, it was bound to happen,” Bridei said
cynically. “The same idealistic nature that drove you to join
Arthur’s cause at sixteen has now turned you into a lovesick
wretch. In contrast, I know how to keep my wits about me, to look
out for myself. I’m not going to commit myself to any man’s cause,
nor fall in love with any woman.”

“I think your attitude makes for a lonely,
empty existence,” Rhun said.

“Oh, really? Then why is it I’m going into
the fortress to find a warm, willing woman to cuddle up with for
the night, while you are out here trying to exhaust yourself enough
so you can go back to your lonely bed and eventually get a few
fitful hours of sleep?”

A few fitful hours of sleep. Glumly, Rhun
realized that he would be lucky to enjoy even that much rest. Every
time he lay down and closed his eyes, he was tormented by memories
of making love to Eastra, of running his fingers through the silk
of her hair and tasting the warm, fragrant softness of her skin.
Hours later, he would still be tossing and turning, the bedclothes
wrapped around him, chilly with his own sweat, his insides aching
with a sense of loss that gnawed at him until he felt like he was
being eaten alive.

And now, hearing about Eastra, his yearning
for her was even more intense. She’d dreamed of him. Feared for
him. How could he not go to her and reassure her?

He set his jaw, realizing he could not deny
his feelings any longer. Somehow he must convince Arthur to let him
go to Deganwy. But how? He dared not reveal how he felt about
Eastra. It might make Arthur question his loyalty. But there must
be some excuse, some explanation he could give.

Bridei had already started off toward the
fortress. Rhun called him back. “I need your help,” he said to his
brother.

* * *

The windows in Arthur’s council room had
been unshuttered and a cool breeze blew through the chamber, making
the lamplight waver. Arthur sat in his big carved chair. Next to
him hunched his scribe, Flavius, squinting over a parchment. Arthur
looked up and smiled as Rhun entered. The sick feeling in Rhun’s
stomach grew more intense. Never before had he lied to his
commander. “Sire,” he began. “I would like to ask a favor. My
brother, Bridei, has just returned from Gwynedd.”

Arthur nodded. “Aye, he made his report to
me a while ago. I was pleased to learn our hostage was safe at your
father’s fortress. Although Maelgwn and I have not always seen
eye-to-eye on things these past years, I trust him in this matter.
I believe he will guard Princess Eastra most diligently.” Arthur’s
hawk-like gaze pierced Rhun. “Now, what is your favor?”

“My stepmother, Maelgwn’s wife, has been ill
since this spring. I would like to go and see her. I thought I
would have a chance to visit her when we took Princess Eastra
there, but Urien altered my plans.”

“Maelgwn’s wife is ill? I didn’t know
this.”

Rhun’s stomach lurched. What if Arthur had
spies at Deganwy? “It may not be a serious illness,” he said
quickly. “But she is such a delicate woman, it worries me to learn
of her ailing. Besides, as you said yourself, if the truce is
broken, there will be a battle for Britain to end all battles. I
would like to see the woman who has been like a mother to me one
more time.”

He could see Arthur weighing the matter in
his mind. He’d asked few favors of his commander in over ten years
of service. And Arthur, who had never known his birth father or
mother and had lost his foster parents early on, honored the bond
between parent and child more than most men. “Deganwy is what—two
days’ ride from here?” Arthur asked.

“Aye, and while I’m in the north, I could
send out the word to the chieftains there, to give them one last
chance to join our cause.”

Arthur snorted. “If they haven’t joined me
yet, they will not do so for this next battle. I think they’re all
hoping I’ll be killed and Britain will go back to what it was, a
disordered rabble of petty chieftains, squabbling endlessly with
their neighbors. They are too stupid to see the Saxon threat will
change their lives forever, and my desire to lead them has nothing
to do with seizing power and everything to do with trying to make
certain there is a Britain left for
anyone
to govern.”