I didn’t sleep that night. I tried a dozen times to run away. Every escape route led me back to my father’s door. No matter how many paths I mapped out and followed meticulously, the compulsion brought me back to The Merlin every time.
The last time I found myself staring at the familiar wooden panels an hour before dawn, I had bathed and dressed in a simple white shift and crown of flowers without realizing it — my wedding attire.
Dawn promised mixed clouds and sunshine. I had wished for rain and wind to match my stormy mood. Da led me to an ancient oak tree deep in the forest. We waited there for Lord Carradoc and his daughters. A dozen bundles of mistletoe hung from the upper branches of the sacred tree. New, delicate green leaves swelled the oak branch tips to nearly bursting.
The scent of damp earth and new green reminded me abruptly of my last day on Avalon. A whiff of cedar on the breeze sent my heart racing and heated my blood. I had refused joining with a faery male then. Unless something drastic occurred, I couldn’t refuse the man who came to wed me today.
Before last Samhain I would have selected this very tree for my first Beltane festival or my wedding. Today I dreaded the ritual that I knew would follow the simple ceremony. As soon as I lay with Carradoc, we would be bound together. The promises I would make before the Christian priest this afternoon would seal the bond for the rest of our lives. “Until death do us part.” I would not break a promise.
My mind screamed in the agony of dread. My breasts, beneath my almost translucent shift, swelled with anticipation of a husband’s touch with an eagerness that heated my face with shame. I had been denied a Beltane initiation for two years. My body wanted this joining even if my mind and heart did not.
The apple blossoms in my crown of flowers reminded me sharply of my training as a priestess of the Goddess. I couldn’t be a true priestess until I had joined with a man and borne a child. Today my training would be complete.
Since I could not have Curyll, the man of my choice, Carradoc would have to do. He’d promised he would never hurt me. My faith in promises dwindled rapidly.
The first birds twittered sleepily to warn us of the sun’s approach. Da lifted his face to the East and burst into the glorious song of thanksgiving to the Goddess. His deep bass voice sent goose bumps up my arms. Out of long habit, I joined him in the beautiful music of dawn. I could thank the Goddess for the day. But not for the man I would soon wed.
I hoped he wouldn’t come. The path to this mistletoe tree twisted and looped back on itself through the dense forest. Many times the way faded into a blur of deer crossings. Maybe he’d get lost along the way.
And if he did fail to meet us, what would I do? I could disguise myself as a boy and join my father’s march with the army. Or I could claim protection from Queen Ygraina and remain indoors in the filthy city. I might run away and risk the dangers of wandering as a bard by myself.
None of the options fulfilled me.
“I don’t want a new mama. I need a husband!” a female voice wailed from behind a screen of underbrush.
Lord Carradoc burst through the tangle of blackberry vines and ferns, his white tunic and leggings askew and torn from the thorns. He carried Berminia, his middle daughter, over his shoulder. She pounded his back with clenched fists. His thick arm restrained her kicking legs. I held back a chuckle.
“You and your sister will witness this marriage and accept Arylwren, daughter of The Merlin, as my wife.” Carradoc swatted Berminia’s fat bottom. She was fat all over and must have been a tremendous weight for her father to carry. Her struggles probably increased the burden. Carradoc’s breathing showed no sign of strain. Only the small tears in his fine linen tunic indicated his thrashing progress through the thicket. I wondered who had worked the blood-red embroidery at the neck, arms, and hem of the tunic. Beautiful work. Had one of his previous wives made the shirt for him? For a different wedding?
My stomach turned over in dread.
Another loud rustle of underbrush revealed a mutely defiant Nimuë being dragged into the clearing by a warrior I recognized as one of Carradoc’s warband — Kalahart, I think. The warrior also carried Carradoc’s banner — two black stags butting heads on a field of red.
Marnia, the youngest daughter, a year younger than me, had been left at home in the far North of Britain, almost to Hadrian’s Wall. Soon to be my home, far away from the capital, the war, and Da; all that I held familiar and dear. And Curyll.
“You have no right to give that girl,” Nimuë pointed at me, “power over your daughters and yourself. She deals in dark magic and demons. Morgaine told me so!”
“And so would you, if you had the intelligence to figure out how!” Carradoc returned as he set Berminia down beside her sister. “Now both of you behave, or I’ll take a lash to you when we have finished.” The blue beads in his beard and hair bounced as he turned his head, mimicking the whip he threatened his daughters with.
Berminia blanched. Nimuë returned his stare, daring him to punish her. A gleam of excitement came into her eyes.
I wondered, and dreaded what she anticipated.
Carradoc “humphed” and turned his back on the witnesses. He stepped up beside me and took my hand. Graciously, he bent over to kiss my palm. “Forgive my tardiness, Wren. I would have this day perfect for you.”
I nodded. I couldn’t make myself do more. Delays and “what ifs” evaporated. The time had come to make promises that would last a lifetime.
o0o
Rituals need to be precise, down to the last detail, in order to be effective. All four elements — Pridd, Awyr, Tanio, and Dwfr — must be represented. The number and arrangement of the witnesses in the proper order must be symbolic.
I repeated the words Da indicated I must. I walked in a circle when directed to seal my promise. I held Carradoc’s hand and exchanged rings and flower garlands, more circles. And lastly I raised my face for a kiss of peace from my new husband. The scent of apple blossoms mingled with male humors heightened my awareness of him. I wanted to let my mind wander with the faeries, far away from the proceedings.
Carradoc wouldn’t let me remain oblivious. A quick peck on the cheek didn’t satisfy him. He lingered, he probed, he caressed, and he enticed until finally, he drew a response from my reluctant lips and body. With his eyes closed he memorized my face and neck with his mouth, then returned to lick my teeth, begging for entrance. I tried to remain stiff and unyielding as his arms enfolded me with warmth. He pressed his mouth harder against mine. I raised my clenched hands to push him away, then found my arms wrapped tightly around his neck.
The compulsion fell away from me like a wave of water retreating with the tide. I was free to run now. Carradoc kept my mind and body firmly imprisoned within his kisses.
One of his large hands cupped my bottom and drew me tight against the evidence of his growing desire. With his superior height he lifted me from the ground and continued his assault upon my mouth. He pressed my entire length against him, as close as two people could be with clothing separating skin from skin.
Dana forgive me, I couldn’t help myself. I braced myself against his hips for balance and returned his kiss. My need for him erupted from the very core of my being, almost violently. The sharp tang of his arousal dominated the scents of flowers and earth.
I heard a shuffle of feet somewhere in the distance. A distance that seemingly increased as heat engulfed me from the crown of flowers on my head to the tips of my bare feet. Someone cleared his throat. The kiss continued. On and on.
“Can we leave now?” Nimuë asked in a bored tone.
“Of course, my dear,” Da chuckled. “I shall escort you back to the palace.”
Out of the corner of my eye I glimpsed Nimuë slipping her hand into the crook of Da’s arm. The look she turned on me shot venom. Her attention remained directly on me and totally ignored her father.
Carradoc’s fumbling with the neckties of my shift jerked my attention away from Nimuë’s resentment. He set me back down on my feet. Grass caressed my soles, reminding me that this union would make me one with the Goddess as well as with this man. My husband.
My previous resentment of Carradoc faded. I couldn’t deny his affection — or lust — for me. My heart softened as my body prepared for our union.
A lingering need to control the situation flickered across my mind.
“Not here!” I protested as he slipped the thin shift off my shoulders.
“Where better than here with mistletoe for our bower and the Goddess as the sheet to receive your maiden’s blood?” His large hand freed my swollen breasts from their covering. “So full and ripe!” He bent to kiss and suckle each tip until they puckered in delight.
His warrior beads brushed my belly, sending quivers of delight all the way to the back of my throat.
“What if they come back?” I couldn’t look over my shoulder to check for privacy. My attention remained on him, studying every flicker of emotion that crossed his face.
The shift fell to the ground. His eyes widened at my exposed belly and legs.
“They won’t come back.” He licked his lips. I couldn’t tell if he fought for control of his actions or exhibited a trace of nervousness. “Even if our families should return, what matter? They will bear witness to the consummation of our union and that the son you give me will be mine!” He knelt before me, trailing nipping little kisses as he moved his mouth to the juncture of my thighs.
I grasped his head for balance as a pleasurable wave of vertigo threatened my senses. Hot moisture rushed to meet his mobile mouth.
“I do like my women with a heavy thatch and full tits.” His tongue flicked out and across the most sensitive part of my body.
The world reeled around me and my fingernails dug into his back. My knees no longer supported me. Moss and dried leaves cushioned me as he stretched out my body, hands clasped above my head in one of his giant fists.
“I will teach you all of the delights of Beltane, my Wren. In time I will teach you more than what a dozen uncontrolled youths could manage, though I’d love to watch them try. You are ripe and ready, Dana be praised. The Ladies of Avalon trained you well. I’ll have you now.” He fumbled with his leggings beneath his tunic.
Before I could gasp at the size of him, he spread my legs and thrust in.
I screamed at the flash of pain.
A gush of moisture softened his hardness. Pressure built upward, through my belly, into my breasts and stifled my brain.
He retreated a fraction, then thrust into me again and again. Sweat covered his brow. I arched to greet him. He released my hands. I wrapped my arms around his neck. He balanced on his elbows.
“I want to watch you as you come!” he gasped as he continued to thrust.
Tingles began at the base of my spine, spreading in wider and wider circles. I moaned in hot pleasure, abandoning myself to the joy that swept over me.
“Yes!” he shouted and claimed my mouth. At last he spasmed and collapsed heavily on top of me.
I feared his ragged breathing would stop his heart.
Slackness replaced the fullness inside me. I squirmed my hips, uncertain what he expected of me now.
“Not yet, Wren. I know you want more, and I’ll give it to you in a moment.” He heaved off me, rolling to one side. “Sorry I rushed it so. I’ve waited a long time to have you. I couldn’t wait any longer.”
He’d lost control and hadn’t waited long enough to remove his clothing. Awareness of my power over him dawned. A secret smile spread over my face.
“The next time will be better for both of us. I’ll just get a little more comfortable and then we can take our time.” He ripped off his tunic, exposing the twisting tattoos on his chest marred by a thin knife scar running from his left nipple to right ribs.