The Dragon Prince (36 page)

Rhun rose. He appeared pale, in shock. She
could not help pitying him. She loved him too much not to care that
he had been forced into an awful dilemma. No matter what he chose,
he would be wracked with guilt the rest of his life.

Not that she intended to allow him to carry
out his duty. Her death would serve no purpose. It would not bring
peace. Indeed, it would inspire her uncle to fight even more
fiercely. Though Cerdic might not care for her, she was a symbol of
his power. He would not let her death go unavenged.

But Arthur must feel exactly the same way.
Which was why he had ordered
her
death. And Cerdic must know
that, know she would die and the war escalate and become even more
bitter and destructive. Why had he done it? she wondered. Killing a
hostage to incite his enemy to war was not something she could
envision her uncle doing. A strange sense went through her.
Something was not right here.

She looked around for Rhiannon. If anyone
could help her puzzle out this thing, it was the queen. She saw
Beli nearby, looking perplexed. “Where’s your mother?” Eastra
asked.

“She went to put the twins to bed” Beli
answered. As she started to move past him, he grasped her arm.
“What’s wrong? What’s happened? I didn’t hear.”

“There’s going to be war, a terrible
battle.” She brushed by him and made her way out into the
courtyard. Seeing Bedwyr coming back from the kitchen, she hurried
the other direction. Twice she glanced behind, wondering if he
might not decide to pursue her and kill her himself.

But no one followed her. She continued
running until she reached the wing where the children slept. She
met Rhiannon coming out. “Something’s wrong,” she told the queen.
“I don’t understand why my uncle would kill Mordred. I think it’s a
trick. Someone wants Arthur to order my death. Then war will be
inevitable.”

Rhiannon nodded. “You may be right. I have
sensed treachery surrounding you from the moment we met.”

“I have to go to my uncle,” Eastra said
abruptly. “I must speak to Cerdic and find out the truth. Once he
sees me alive, perhaps he will honor the fact that Arthur has shown
me mercy. Then there might be a chance for them to meet and work
this out. If Arthur and Cerdic could talk, just the two of them, I
think they could come to agreement. It is their supporters—my
uncle’s thanes, Arthur’s Companions—who make peace impossible. I
think many of them
want
war. For without war there is no
plunder, no glory, and that’s what they live for.”

Rhiannon looked thoughtful. “If war must
come, it will come. But I do think it is time you went back to your
own people. I will ask Maelgwn to provide an escort for you.”

“And Rhun?” Eastra asked, then wished she
hadn’t spoken.

“Do you wish to say good-bye to him?”

She shook her head. It would be unbearable
to face him now. To see the anguish in his eyes and know he was
torn between his sense of duty to Arthur and his feelings for her.
And also to know that if his sense of duty prevailed, her lover,
the man who was the father of her unborn child, might be willing to
sacrifice her life.

* * *

Rhun glanced absently around his father’s
council room, thinking how different it was from Arthur’s. The high
king’s headquarters contained a huge round table for all the
Companions to sit around and was decorated with luxurious
furnishings. This chamber was stark and empty, as if it was rarely
used. There was a layer of dust on the furniture, and the parchment
maps and other documents were all neatly rolled and put away on
shelves along one wall. Maelgwn—his lands guarded by the mountains
and strong treaties made in his younger days—had been able to live
in peace for over a score of years.

Once Rhun had despised his father for
choosing to live a quiet life, content to rule his small corner of
Britain and ignore the turmoil afflicting the rest of the country.
But now he wondered if his sire’s choice did not show wisdom after
all. Maelgwn had given his people two decades of peace, an
opportunity to raise their children in prosperity and safety.
Meanwhile, Arthur had fought the Saxons and lost countless
companions, friends and warriors. Now that Mordred was dead, Arthur
had no heir to follow after him. When the Saxon tide finally swept
over them, would anyone remember what Arthur had done?

Maelgwn was probably correct in thinking the
Saxons would never penetrate this far, never conquer Cymru lands.
Maelgwn’s dynasty might well endure, while Arthur would be
forgotten.

Rhun sighed heavily. It didn’t matter that
he saw these things now. He’d made his choice years ago, and there
was no escaping it. He was Arthur’s man.

The door opened with a creaking sound. The
lamplights wavered as Maelgwn entered. He approached Rhun and said,
“I’m sorry I kept you waiting.”

The remark surprised Rhun. In his
experience, his father never apologized.

“I suppose you’ll be leaving soon. You’ll
have to go with Bedwyr, off to fight the enemy.”

Rhun nodded. Maelgwn moved nearer. He put
his hand on Rhun’s arm. In the flickering lamplight, an expression
of weariness dragged down Maelgwn’s features, revealing the over
five decades he’d lived. “I may never see you again, and I don’t
want this parting to be one of bitterness. Even if we’ve quarreled
and argued every time we’ve met as men, I don’t want you to forget
that I love you. You are my firstborn and you’ve grown up to be a
fine, courageous man. I’m proud of you, my son.”

There were tears in Maelgwn’s eyes. Rhun
felt them start in his own. So much to say. So little time.

Rhun turned and Maelgwn embraced him, a
fierce, spine-cracking hug that reminded Rhun his father was not
quite yet in his dotage. Then Maelgwn released him. “It’s a brave,
heroic thing to do your duty, even when it is onerous and painful.
I honor you for your courage, even as I wish it did not have to be
like this. But no matter what you’ve sworn to Arthur, there are
oaths that take precedence over those given to men.”

Maelgwn’s face was composed and kingly once
more, but his voice was impassioned. “Your stepmother and I raised
you to honor and respect women, to acknowledge the sacred gift they
possess of being able to create life. Despite your belief in the
Christian god, we hope you won’t turn away from the Goddess, the
great mother herself. If Arthur calls upon you to offer up Princess
Eastra’s life in exchange for Mordred’s, no matter your oath, you
must refuse that duty. You are Arthur’s man, but you are the Great
Mother’s own flesh.”

Rhun felt a wan smile forming on his lips.
No wonder Maelgwn was acting so tense and strange. He was worried
about Eastra. “Do you really think I could do such a thing?” he
asked his father. “Even if I could get past the horror of killing a
woman and an innocent, there is also the fact that I love Eastra
more than my own life.”

“You’ve decided then? You will refuse
Arthur’s order?”

Rhun nodded. “I have to. As you have said,
to be a dutiful, devoted soldier is a noble thing, but it’s only
part of what I am.” He looked away. Now it was his turn to be
overcome with emotion. “What I have shared with Eastra is beyond
any oath I could have sworn to either man or goddess. I feel she is
a part of me. Without her, I scarce want to live.”

“Then why are you leaving her to go and
fight a war you cannot win? Why not stay here and wed her and give
her children? Why not allow both of you a chance for
happiness?”

Rhun shook his head. “Because as much as I
love her, I
am
still Arthur’s man. I couldn’t live with
myself if I didn’t go to him now. Even what I share with Eastra
would not be enough for me to overcome my guilt over breaking my
oath.”

Maelgwn exhaled sharply. “I tell myself I
haven’t raised a fool, that you are simply young and rash and
haven’t learned the real lessons of life. Rhiannon would advise me
to hold my temper, to let what must be, be. But it is near
impossible for me to stand by and watch this”—he sputtered—“this
pigheaded idiocy of yours!”

Rhun’s mouth twisted into a bitter smile.
This was the father he remembered. Tender and loving one moment,
hot-tempered and domineering the next. There was a kind of comfort
in Maelgwn’s fury. It ignited his own stubborn will and made it
possible for him to do what he had to do. “But in the end, you will
listen to Rhiannon, father,” he answered coolly. “You always
do.”

Maelgwn glared at him, then started for the
door.

Rhun took a deep breath as his father left.
He knew Bedwyr expected him to set out this very night, but there
were some things he had to do first. He must say good-bye to
Rhiannon and the children. Then he would go to the chapel and pray
for strength—the strength to say good-bye to Eastra. He would find
her and, if she let him, he would love her one last time. Then, in
the morning, he would leave.

* * *

The door to her bedchamber opened. Eastra
looked up from packing. She’d expected to see Rhiannon, and her
heart did a little jump when she realized Maelgwn was standing
there. As always, he intimidated her and made her uneasy. Maybe it
was because he reminded her of Cerdic. The same sense of power, of
implacable will, seemed to flow from him as it did from her uncle.
She straightened. If she intended to face down her uncle and force
him to listen to her, she might as well practice being brave with
Maelgwn.

“I have come from talking to Rhun,” he said.
“I can assure you he has no intention of harming you. There’s no
reason for you to leave Deganwy.”

Eastra cleared her throat and tried to make
her voice sound strong and calm. “Did Rhiannon not tell you? I mean
to go to see my uncle. To talk to him and try to convince him to
honor the truce, or to at least give Arthur a chance to negotiate
another one. I’m going to attempt to stop this awful battle from
taking place.”

Maelgwn shook his head. “Although I don’t
know your uncle, I know a little about the Saxons. I don’t think
Cerdic is the kind of man who will listen to a woman, no matter if
she speaks good sense. I think you are wasting your time.” He
walked across the room and, looking thoughtful, picked up the
sapphire necklace from the chest where she had laid it. As he
examined it, Eastra wondered if he was angry that Rhiannon had
given it to her. Perhaps since it was a legacy of his family, he
would not recognize his wife’s right to offer it to her. She opened
her mouth to say that she was not taking the necklace with her,
that she knew she had no right to it. But Maelgwn suddenly looked
at her, and the intensity of his blue eyes—as vivid as the stones
in the necklace—froze the words in her throat.

“I know you want to stop this war,” he said.
“I think you are a brave and courageous woman to attempt such a
thing. But I must plead with you not to leave here, but to stay and
work your powers of persuasion on my son instead of your uncle.
Convince
Rhun
not to go and fight this war. I feel as if he
is going to his death. A wasteful, stupid death, since Arthur
cannot win. And even more wasteful because of what he leaves
behind.” His gaze grew almost tender. “He loves you, and your love
can save him. I beg you to do this... for both of us.”

She released the breath she had been holding
in a shuddering sigh. If only she could do what Maelgwn asked. But
she knew she could not, for no matter how she tried to bind Rhun to
her, no matter what heart-stopping intimacy they shared, he would
still choose to leave her. And knowing that, she was unwilling to
do as Maelgwn requested, to try to make Rhun stay and then have her
heart broken when she failed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Your faith in
me is misplaced. Rhun loves me, but he loves his duty more. I will
not fight a battle I can’t win. I don’t even plan to see Rhun
before I leave.”

She had to resist the urge to touch her
stomach as she thought of the babe, the gift Rhun had given her
that no one could take away. But she did not want Maelgwn to know
she carried his grandchild. She feared if he knew of it, he would
be more insistent than ever that she not leave Deganwy. Thank the
Goddess, Rhiannon understood her situation and was willing to help
her. She invoked the queen’s name as she said, “Rhiannon has
promised you will provide an escort for me. I hope you haven’t
changed your mind. You could keep me as a prisoner here, but I beg
you not to.”

Something in Maelgwn’s face changed, and he
looked suddenly thoughtful. “Of course I will provide an escort,”
he said. “You have never been our prisoner here, only an honored
guest.” He bowed. “Fare you well, Princess Eastra. I wish you the
best in your journey and in your purpose. May the Goddess protect
you and keep you.”

She nodded back, embarrassed by his
deference. He was a king, while she was only a princess, the
princess of a people who did not usually count women as very
important. But somehow, she had to try to overcome that, to change
the future, despite her sex.

* * *

Rhun wearily left the chapel. It seemed that
he had been praying for hours. But none of it—the comforting
ritual, the familiar surroundings of the chapel of his boyhood, the
heartfelt quest for answers—none of it had afforded him any peace.
He was exhausted, so weary in mind and spirit that he wondered if
he could perform even if Eastra allowed him to make love to her.
And yet he wanted to leave her with something, some breathtaking
memory of what they shared. He hoped the magic of their coupling
would sustain her even if he never saw her again. He told himself
that as soon as he beheld her beauty, his body would stir to life.
The anguish and grief would fall away and they would share one last
night of ecstasy and contentment.

He approached the guest bedchamber where he
knew she slept. As he was almost to the door, he sensed a shadow
moving behind him. He turned and was startled to see Balyn and
Elwyn, two of his father’s oldest companions. There was a faint
hiss as they drew their swords. His eyes widened as he realized
what was happening. “Here, now, Rhun,” Balyn said in the rumbling
voice that matched his bulk, “We don’t want to hurt you. But rather
a few sword cuts than a Saxon war axe in the throat. We’re here to
escort you back to your old bedchamber.”