The Stolen Bride Page 3

  In truth, by our oldest laws, a woman was free to join with more than one man, as long as he was of proper stature. But first the Romans changed it, and then the believers in the Christ changed it, and now no one knew quite what the true law said.

  Had it been just his mother’s illness, Arthur told me, I would not be needed. But this affair with Doged was exactly why Arthur had pledged me to his service, or so he said. Doged’s lands lay south of Tyntagel, encompassing two of our ports from whence much of the trade goods for our northern lands flowed. A disruption of those supply lines would severely reduce the consilium’s trade in tin and lead. One of the few factors that kept the consilium bound together was the lead and tin mining; both required much labor, more than any one lord could muster. So, a dispute that threatened something of such importance meant Arthur would need all of his men. As was customary, Arthur won out. Though it was Ygerne who made the decision. “I have delivered babies before, Malgwyn. The one thing I do not need is you pestering me. Go.”

  And I did.

  In truth, Arthur was no more anxious to travel than was I.

  It had not been many months since he had reconciled with Guinevere. They had fallen in love many years before when Guinevere had been a sister of the Christ in the women’s community at Ynys-witrin. When their romance was discovered, Guinevere had been cast out in disgrace for breaking her vows. Arthur’s patrons, Lord Cadwy and Ambrosius Aurelianus, saved him from any punishment, but Guinevere had suffered much.

  Arthur truly loved her, though, and he gradually brought her to court. But about a year before this journey, Arthur had been forced into a politically convenient marriage with the daughter of a northern lord. Needless to say, the marriage ripped Arthur and Guinevere asunder. But when the marriage ended tragically, Arthur reached out to Guinevere. It took time, but they had finally come together.

  Now, I shivered in the morning chill and watched my new charge, Daron, nibble at her food. Morgan, being his oversolicitous self, scurried about hunting more food for all three of us. I sat heavily on an old chair and glanced about. Arthur should really do something about his hall, I thought. We were lodged in one of the private chambers, but the hall at Celliwic was in sore need of repair. And that was not all.

  The ramparts badly needed refortifying; they would not stand an assault by children with wooden spears. The gate was of single width and the wood was rotting at its mounts. There had been no chapel for Arthur’s worship, but he had set soldiers to building a simple timber hut on our arrival. I would have put them to work on the ramparts, but I was more concerned with my neck than my soul.

  “Perhaps I should tear it down and build a new one,” I heard Arthur say as he entered the room.

  “Perhaps,” I agreed. “Morgan tells me we leave soon.”

  The Rigotamos lowered himself into a chair, his tunic bunching at his hips. He leaned forward, his chestnut hair falling in front of his face, his wool-wrapped hands propped on his knees. I took note, as I always did, of his short, stubby fingers, the middle one on the left hand half the size of the others, victim of a well-aimed Saxon spear. Arthur never shrank from battle.

  “Yes, we have no choice. Lady Igraine sent a messenger with word that she is failing fast. And Doged sent one as well. A second village has been raided; this one by Cilydd, but it was only a provisioning raid. Just simple thievery.”

  “We offered them all that we had,” came the soft voice of Daron from the corner.

  The Rigotamos turned and studied her carefully. “Is this our lone survivor?” he asked. I had briefed him quickly upon our arrival.

  I nodded. “I did not want to leave her there. That would have been as cruel as the raiders that killed her people.”

  “You are in good hands here, child,” Arthur said. He moved to touch her head gently, but she jerked her head back as if stung.

  “Daron,” I started to scold her, but Arthur held up a woolen-wrapped hand.

  “Anyone that has been through what she has is allowed certain liberties. No one here wishes you harm, child. I will assign a soldier to watch over you.”

  Her pale face grew dark and she shook her head fiercely. “No. I will stay with him.” And to my alarm she pointed at me.

  “Daron,” I began again, but again Arthur stopped me with a hand.

  Arthur gently and kindly shook his head at her. “Child, your safety is important to me. That is why I wish to protect you with one of my bravest soldiers.”

  “Rigotamos…,” I began, but before I could say aught else, he grabbed me by my tunic and eased me across the chamber.

  “Malgwyn, you must be free to fulfill your duties for me. As important as she is, she would be a hindrance to your unfettered movement.”

  “Think, for a second, Arthur. Soldiers talk. Soldiers gossip. I can control the four soldiers who were with me. But if we set her apart as special, with her own guard, word will more quickly spread, drawing unwanted attention. And when I do find the scum responsible for her misery, I will need her alive and handy to prove their guilt.”

  “Do not forget that your primary mission is to help me mediate for Doged.”

  “And do not pretend that those dead villagers mean nothing. Whether you wish it or not, I will have justice for them.”

  We stood there, glaring at each other for a handful of seconds. Then Arthur did something unexpected. He chuckled. “We are a sight of wonderment, Malgwyn,” he said, drawing one end of his mustache into his mouth, chewing on the end as he did when in thought. “What do you suggest?”

  My mind raced quickly. “Let us do this: She is already dressed as a peasant. Let her play the role of a servus for me. No one thinks twice about servi. And give me Sulien. He can help me in my quest and keep an eye on her as well.”

  “Very well.” Turning back toward Daron and Morgan, he said, “You may stay with Malgwyn. He will explain all to you soon.” He hesitated. “Malgwyn, I would talk with you privately.”

  “Morgan, would you and Daron go and fill my pouch with food for the day’s travel?”

  Though Morgan cocked his eye in suspicion, he led Daron from the room. To my surprise, she went willingly, Arthur’s decision apparently allaying her fears.

  Arthur nodded. “Doged sent other word as well. A Saxon ship has sought permission to send a party ashore for trade negotiations.”

  “Under whose banner?”

  “Aelle, king of the southern Saxons.”

  “We do have troubles then.” Aelle had risen to bretwalda, high king in their accursed tongue, of the Saxons in the south after the deaths of Hengist and Horsa. He was said to be a mighty warrior and crafty. Indeed, he had already adopted a strategy of approaching individual lords with his proposals, but not Arthur. Aelle hoped to work cracks in our unity. While Arthur could punish those who parlayed with the Saxons, he chose not to. “Chastise them,” he told me once, “and they will resent you.” It had proved a sound tactic, so far. “Will Doged look with pleasure at their entreaty?” I asked.

  The Rigotamos shook his head abruptly. “Doged, no. Cilydd and some of the others, perhaps. Especially a young lord named Druce, some kin to Cilydd. They need weapons and supplies to wage their war against Doged. Expediency may send them to the Saxons without regard for the future.”

  “It has come to open warfare then.”

  Arthur shook his head. “We cannot know that until we find out who massacred that village. Doged marrying this girl was unexpected. My agents tell me that Cilydd and the others could not control their curiosity, so they returned to Doged’s seat to attend his wedding.”

  “When was that held?”

  “Two new moons past.”

  “Is there any sign that the bride is with child?”

  “Not yet. But it is still early.” He stopped and chuckled. “I am told that his new woman likes being a queen, a little too much.”

  “Then I pity old Doged.”

  “But I am also told that she is exceedingly beautiful.”

 
It was my turn to laugh. “Well, I trust her beauty is sufficient to offset the trouble she will cause.”

  “My lords.”

  We looked up to see an old friend in the door—Ider. Once a monk at Ynys-witrin, Ider had fallen afoul of episcopus Dubricius some months before, after Arthur’s marriage to the Demetae princess Gwyneira ended in tragedy. Ider had proved himself a brave and loyal friend, and when Dubricius had him cast from the Christ’s service Arthur took him into his service. For my part, I believed it a good trade.

  Now, I hardly recognized the once thin, almost ascetic monk. Freed of the monachi’s harsh diet, he had gained weight. And where once his carefully shaven tonsure marked his head, now a tangle of dirty yellow hair held sway. But his eagerness to please was still there, and for that I was glad. I would not want him to change so much that he ceased to be Ider.

  “The horses and wagons are ready, Rigotamos,” he reported breathlessly.

  Arthur rose and slapped my shoulder. “Come, Malgwyn. We are keeping both Mother and Doged waiting.”

  Standing and awkwardly straightening my tunic with my one hand, I had to wonder if they were the only ones that were awaiting us.

  * * *

  Our plan was to stop first at Lord Doged’s seat to the south, Castellum Dinas, pay our respects, and then Arthur would move on to Tyntagel in the north. ’Twas only a few hours’ ride from Castellum Dinas, and when we had reached the proper moment in our mediation efforts Arthur would be sent for.

  But Arthur surprised me just as we were to begin. “I wish you, Bedevere, and Ider to go to Lord Doged. I will go with Morgan straight to Tyntagel.”

  “Are you certain? You may need Ider.”

  “Is Ider a medicus?” he snapped, but he quickly softened his tone when he saw how my head reeled in surprise. “I am sorry, Malgwyn. My mother is a difficult person at the best of times. I doubt that lying on her deathbed will have cured that.” He stopped and dropped his head. “You may need Ider more than I. It is in the consilium’s best interest that Doged continue in possession of his lands.”

  Arthur’s statement made me stop and think. What I knew of Doged was that he was a generally congenial old fellow. His seat was but three Roman schoenii from Trevelgue, where he maintained another residence. Much of our goods came in through the port there, but we had other ports.

  The Rigotamos saw the look in my eye. He reached into his pouch and removed something from his pouch. I needed no explanation for this rock. Though but a small bit, it was unmistakable. Gold.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “So, it isn’t just a possibility.” The little nugget in my hand told the tale too well. First, there had only been a chance of gold. This proved it beyond doubt.

  “Doged’s man found only this one bit, but it makes the situation all the more serious.”

  “Who else knows of this?”

  “You, Bedevere, Doged, of course. The rider he sent with these samples.”

  “When did you receive them?”

  “Late, late last night. I have sent for Merlin as you suggested. He knows of such things and may have more answers for us.”

  I wandered over and watched two troop of horse prepare to leave. “So Lord Doged’s seat truly sits atop a gold mine.” The only other gold mines anyone knew about in all of Britannia were the Roman mines in the far north.

  The Romans had discovered that gold, but, to my knowledge, none had been found in the lands of the Cornovii, though we had found plenty of tin and lead. But gold. Suddenly Doged went from being a mildly interesting lord of little consequence to a man of great import.

  “Perhaps. There has been but this one bit of gold yet. But there has been agaphite, and its value is unquestioned.”

  Turning back to him, I frowned. “You should not have released Illtud.” Our old friend Illtud, a cousin of Arthur’s and one of the finest officers to serve him, had entered the Christ’s service. At last word, Illtud was studying in a monastery in the Breton lands, across the great channel. “We could use him right now.”

  Arthur grunted. “I know it all too well. But I have also called for Kay.”

  “Who will command at Castellum Arturius?”

  “Gawain.”

  “Not Paderic?” Paderic was Arthur’s cousin and a good man, but slow of mind.

  Arthur chuckled at that, and that was what I hoped to see. This journey had already become like a heavy burden to him. “No, I think Gawain will serve well.”

  I nodded. He was a good choice. Though a brother of Mordred, Gawain had none of Mordred’s conniving nature and more than a touch of his cousin Arthur’s nobility.

  Mordred. We would need all of the gods’ help if he caught wind of gold in Doged’s land. Arthur had given up assigning Mordred special commands. At last word, he had left his own lands in the hands of a young noble and was far to the north in Lord David’s lands, probably plotting Arthur’s downfall, but at least far enough away not to cause immediate mischief.

  Mordred had played a role in the death of Eleonore, nearly three years before. He coveted the Rigotamos’s crown with all his heart, if he had one. But unlike some of the lords, Mordred was clever, clever enough not to be found out.

  “What are your orders?”

  Arthur paused for a second. “Kay will come to me at Tyntagel. Merlin will join you at Castellum Dinas. Take the measure of Doged and this Cilydd. Aye, and take the measure of the girl, Ysbail.”

  “Arthur, this…” I put thoughts of Ysbail out of my mind and returned to staring at the rocks.

  He smiled grimly. “This is more headache than I need, but it could also be an opportunity. I have long wanted to build a merchant ship capable of trade, and we desperately need warships to stave off the raids by the Scotti.”

  “So, I am to lend assistance to Doged, for he is more pliable than the younger ones?”

  “No, you are to lend assistance to Doged because he has been a good and faithful servant to the consilium. Doged is a good man, wise. There is far more to him than you would think. No lord has served the consilium as well or as courageously as Doged. I would rather support a proven friend than a young rebel who might become thirsty for my crown. And with gold, he might be able to purchase my downfall.”

  Pulling his cloak about his neck and securing it with a great fibula, Arthur headed for his horse. “Call for me if you need me. Otherwise, I will join you when my mother’s health is better, or…” He did not finish or I did not hear his last words.

  * * *

  I worried for Arthur. My own mother had lain gravely ill for weeks before she passed into the shadows, as had my brother, Cuneglas, horribly wounded in the affair surrounding Arthur’s election as Rigotamos. Their suffering had haunted me for many a night.

  Poor Cuneglas, caught up in affairs for which he cared nothing. He had aroused just moments before he died, causing my enemies to say that he was healing and that I killed him to have Ygerne, and later that Ygerne and I had both killed him. A man’s enemies will say anything to harm him.

  As we rode along, the sun began to warm the land. You could see fewer pieces of the old Romans here. An occasional villa still marked the earth, some narrower roads. They had never fully populated this part of Britannia, not like the eastern lands. But they had improved many of the harbors, critical to trading in lead and tin and importing their amphorae of wine and olive oil, the interminable olive oil. But the absence of such kept these lands from looking like skin marred with scabs and blotches of ruin. It was a welcome change.

  I felt a presence and twisted in my saddle to see Bedevere riding up to join me. His long tunic was bunched about his waist, held tight there by a wide leather belt decorated with iron studs. Where Kay was tall and given to fits of temper, Bedevere was stocky and taciturn. In a land that seemed often to have lost all honor, if Bedevere gave his word he never broke it. All three of us had warred under Arthur’s banner, and since I had returned to the Rigotamos’s service we had grown close once more, in a way only war co
mrades can.

  “What think you of Morgan?” Bedevere asked, drawing even with me.

  I shrugged. “He is typical of the northerners I have known, oversolicitous.”

  “That is why they make good physicians,” Bedevere grunted. “Always seeking favor, not honor.”

  “Oh, Bedevere, every lord on the consilium save a handful spends more time currying favor than seeking honor.”

  “And other things,” he said.

  “How so?”

  “Once, when Arthur, Kay, and I were hardly men, more boys really, we were returning to Cadwy’s seat from taking messages to Ambrosius. We stopped near the crest of a high hill to eat, one that gave a good view of the land below. A maiden was feeding chickens near a poor hut in the distance.

  “We noticed her, as boys will, spoke of how much sport she would be. Arthur leaped to his feet; he was always impetuous then. He announced that he would have her, by fair or foul.

  “Kay lunged for Arthur and caught him about his shoulders, pulling him to the earth. ‘NO!’ he shouted. ‘We have honor. We protect such as she, not molest them.’

  “Arthur was not convinced. ‘What good is it to have power if you do not use it to please yourself?’ he said.

  “Then a voice spoke, a new one. ‘Can I help you, young masters?’ It was an older man, walking with a staff. He wore a threadbare cloak of thin wool, fastened about his neck with a bit of wood. His tunic had holes in it, and he was barefoot. But that wasn’t what struck me the most. He was thin, more skeleton than man. I feared the breeze might carry him away.

  “I remember that Kay and Arthur scrambled to their feet, embarrassed at being caught fighting. The old man smiled at them. ‘We have little to eat, my lords, but you are welcome to share it,’ he said.

  “‘Is that your home?’ I asked him, pointing at the farm below.