The Phantom Queen Awakes (10 page)

She frowned. “Some have called me that, but
without good reason. The women here call me Cathubodua. But it does
not matter. I have many names, and not all of them are favorable to
me.” The face changed to an ancient crone with watery eyes who
appeared to wash clothes in an invisible stream. She seemed to
watch Lys, although her eyes were unseeing. Lys shivered under the
gaze. The crone was frightening in ways that the warrior woman was
not. Lys felt as if she looked into the face of Death.

“You look young and strong. You will bear many
healthy children,” she said in a wheezy voice. “What say you,
maiden?” Her cross expression puzzled Lys.

“Are you angry with me, respected
mother?”

“Impatient for answers. Time moves too slowly.
You move too slowly.”

Lys did not want to vex her and hurried to
give answer. “Our family has strong women. We do not shrink from
hard work or the pain of giving birth.”

The warrior woman returned, laughing. “That is
good. What goes in must come out. Iaun’s seed is as strong as his
thirst.”

“What do you ask of me, then? How may I serve
you?” Lys bowed her head to wait for the goddess’
commands.

“Ach, Lys ab Gysell.” She spat to the side as
if to frighten an enemy. “I would have you ask me for a boon. It is
your wedding and your right.”

Shadows danced around her. First one face then
another flew in and out of focus. Finally, a motherly countenance
appeared. Lys saw the moon reflected in her eyes. She turned her
head, but could not find the light’s source. She exhaled in a
burst, unaware that she had held her breath.

“I can think of nothing other than long life
for my husband and me and peace for our people,” she
said.

The woman smiled then. “I can offer you
something else, a valuable gift for your folk and those of your
husband.”

Lys grew suspicious. She knew from the tales
of the holy men that gifts from the gods were something to be wary
of. “What sort of gift?”

“The ability to walk in
Ande-dubnos
.
You may also pass it on to your children.” Her beatific face
radiated joy; it was meant to be a face to trust.

Lys knew better. “Do you mean the power to
cross into the
Anderwelt
?”

She nodded. “Yes, child. A better boon you
could not ask for. With this gift you may form the dreams of your
people to guide them. You can rule them as you see fit.”

“That does sound like a queenly gift. What do
you ask from me in return?”

“Only this,” the goddess beckoned her forward.
Lys approached and knelt, feeling that it was expected of her.
Hands touched her shoulders, a light touch. She felt long
fingernails scrape over her skin. The feeling was not
unpleasant.

“To Lys ab Gysell, should she choose to walk
with me, I hereby grant the power over
Ande-dubnos
, to
fashion the portion of the shadow realm it encompasses to her
desires.”

The hands clasping her shoulder tightened and
Lys felt a reply was required of her. “I hear your words, my
lady.”

“This power has its responsibilities.” She
paused and eased her grip on Lys’ shoulders. “The dreams of men
need to be cultivated and nurtured against the threat of chaos.
This requires a journey into
Ande-dubnos
each year to
perform such tasks as are necessary.”

Hands lowered to grasp her upper arms and urge
her upwards. As Lys rose, she gazed into the unsmiling eyes of the
warrior.

“I will do my best.”

The goddess considered her carefully. “In
addition to your gaining entrance into the
Anderwelt
, as you
call it, the reward for this duty is twofold. I bestow on you good
fortune and a fair countenance for you and your descendants from
this day forward, as far as it is in my power to
fulfill.”

“That is kind of you, my lady.”

“Kindness has nothing to do with it. I grant
this not without purpose.” The goddess smiled on her without mirth,
but her expression, at least, was not unkind. “Prosperity and the
beauty of the fée have their price, but that is something that is
paid on demand and not beforehand.”

Lys studied the face before her. Strong.
Fierce. And merciless.

“Your fate and those of your children are from
here on intimately bound, Lys ab Gysell, with the fate of Iaun
Reith and his tribe, be it ever so small.”

“We are to be formally joined. I see no
problem with that.”

“But your children might. Therefore, you must
bind them to me now as well.”

“I am willing to do this thing, but I would
ask why.”

“Because the descendants of the Veneti and the
Condrusi will someday be all that remains of our way.”

Lys considered the gravity of what she said
and felt afraid. She knew the Condrusi did not have the might to
overcome the powerful Roman warlord they called Caesar or the
tribes to the north and east. Her folk had formerly accepted
patronage and protection from the Treveri. The two tribes shared
kinship bonds and many customs, but the Treveri had begun to suckle
from Rome’s teat, setting her people adrift.

Lys thought about the children she hoped to
bear. Her children’s word was hers to give as long as they were not
yet out of her womb, and her pulse quickened at the thought of the
great fortune she was receiving. “It is done,” she said and lowered
her head.

****

Lys bore twin sons to Iaun within a year of
their binding. The women marveled at the ease of the birth in one
as young as Lys and at the health of her babies. The Veneti
rejoiced at the new arrivals and slaughtered lambs for the feast to
celebrate Bel’s return.

They renewed the handfasting a year and a day
after the initial ceremony to much fanfare, another cause for the
Veneti to celebrate. Uxía tied the double knot over their crossed
hands, signifying the permanence of their union. Iaun’s vigorous
appetite for her sparked such a deep satisfaction in Lys that she
vowed to return the favor by being a good wife and leader for
Iaun’s people. A few days after the solstice, Lys realized she was
again pregnant. The fortune that the goddess had promised her
seemed already to have come to pass.

****

“Why do you have to go just now?” Lys spoke to
her husband as she finished suckling her third son, born just a
fortnight before.

Iaun watched her with an admiring gaze as he
stood in front of his weapons chest. “You heard the messenger your
father sent. They need our help. The men have grown bored over the
winter, and it will give them a chance to win some trophies. I
would also learn the extent of the threat from the Roman wolf
pack.”

Her twins pulled themselves up on Nolwenn’s
legs. Lys had accepted the Veneti tradition that decreed the
exchange of sons among noble families and entrusted Nolwenn, the
wife of Iaun’s brother Gwened, to care for her children. After Iaun
looked at Nolwenn pointedly, she took the baby from Lys and left,
herding the twins in the direction of her own hut.

“And why can’t I go with you?”

He closed the chest and motioned for her to
join him on their fur-lined pallet.

“I need you here in my absence, Lys. The
people need you. Gwened will help you to oversee things while I’m
gone. Trust him as I do.”

****

Lys’ third pregnancy quickly followed Iaun’s
triumphant return. Eager to capitalize on his tribe’s support and
the recent influx of artisans, he began to oversee the construction
of his own small fleet of ships. They were to be low but fast
wooden tubs with sails made of leather skins, capable of
seaworthiness in both the shallow and deep waters that would be
needed for a planned trading expedition to the West.

She looked up from instructing one of the
craftswomen in the joining of hides for the leather sails as she
caught a glimpse of the twins chasing each other through the
shipyards. Lys’ leatherworking skills had been learned at her
father’s knees, and she was glad she could put them to good use
now. Gwened smiled approvingly at her work.

“The building is going well. Especially with
their help,” Gwened said. They both watched the twins as they
handed fresh moss to the men who used it to seal the
planking.

“I’m hoping it will take a while. I’m not
looking forward to Iaun leaving again so soon.”

“I’m thinking of taking the boys with me on a
short hunt,” he said, after Lys rose to stand next to
him.

She laid a hand on his arm. “If you think so,
Gwened.”

Because of his fair coloring and steely
gray-blue eyes, it was rumored that his mother had lain with one of
the Northern slaves, although no one spoke about it in his
presence. She valued his companionship and had learned to trust his
judgment during Iaun’s absence. His wife, Nolwenn, barren herself,
had gladly taken Lys’ third son into her care, leaving her free to
handle tribal affairs.

****

The time of celebrating Imbolc was well past
and Lys felt unwell as her term approached. She sought out the holy
women for assistance to ease the birth. Uxía brought her into one
of their huts, structures of woven reed walls and steep thatched
roofs. She laid Lys on a bed of heather rushes softened by a
covering of winter hay and gave her tisanes of willow bark. Uxía
confirmed that the delivery was drawing near.

Her pain eased, Lys felt herself slipping in
and out of dreams. During one of them, Cathubodua appeared to her.
She came in her warrior aspect, accompanied by a black cloud of
ravens winging about her head and shoulders.

“Three healthy, beautiful sons you have
borne,” she said. “I demand payment for continued good fortune.”
Based on her appearance alone, Lys would have guessed that the
fierce maiden was younger than her by several years, but the eyes
that bore into her contradicted the impression of youth.

Lys nodded for her to continue.

“I would have these first daughters, both of
them. They will be mine.”

Lys shrank back and held her hands over her
belly. She felt the first contractions that signaled the impending
birth. “You wish them to enter into the care and training of the
holy women?’

“No. Mine. Given. You will sacrifice them to
me the year they come into their maidenhood.”

Lys’ breath came rapidly as her chest
tightened with dread, and she felt her knees weaken with fright.
“Why?”

“It is my way. Difficult times require strong
magic.”

Lys prayed quietly to other gods. It seemed to
take an eternity before she found her courage. “Can you not take
those from another of the tribe?”

“The sacrifice of a king’s blood is the price
I require,” she said.

Lys had not thought about her promise these
past few years. She had carried out her duties and strove to be a
good wife to Iaun.

“I have made the pilgrimages into
Ande-dubnos
each year as you required of me, and have bathed
in the sea of dreams.”

“You swore it,” the maiden said, her hand on
the sword at her belt. “And know this. The dreams of your people
grow weak. You must continue your duties.” She waited for Lys’
response.

“What will you do if I refuse?”

“I will cut them from you now,” Cathubodua
said, her hand tightening on her sword’s pommel.

“I will keep my oath.” Lys sobbed, the words
tasting like ash.

****

The days shortened toward summer’s end, the
sixth since her daughters had arrived. Since Iaun had returned from
his trip into the West, his ships laden with goods, a change had
come over him. Although solicitous, he behaved with a reticence
towards her that made Lys uneasy.

“I don’t understand what is wrong with Iaun.
Has he said anything to you?” Lys stood next to Gwened as they
received reports of grain and wood harvests from some of the folk.
Iaun had left to oversee plans for the reception of emissaries from
a tribe he had visited.

Gwened clenched his jaw and turned away from
her.

She put a hand on his shoulder. “Tell me,
Gwened.”

“Iaun is planning to send me and some of the
men back to your people, Lys. He wants you to go with me this
time,” he answered.

“More raiders?” she asked, feeling frightened
for her people.

“There is a rumor that the Romans are on the
march. The men are eager to engage them. They also need to be kept
busy or they start fighting amongst themselves.”

“Can we take the children?”

“We can take the boys, Lys. The girls should
stay here with Nolwenn,” was all he would say. She had a suspicious
feeling that he was not telling her everything.

The morning of their departure, Gwened took
Lys’ sons down to the bay to make an offering to the
ar-men-hir
before their journey, giving her just enough time
to lay with her husband before she left. Little did she know it
would be the last time she saw Iaun Reith.