“SO you recognize me at last, little Wren.” Carradoc threw back his head and laughed. “I wondered when you’d put off the prissy virgin act and admit you were disappointed your enthusiastic marchogs came to the ‘rescue’ last Samhain.”
A knot formed in my stomach, twisting and coiling up my spine to my neck and shoulders. Could Carradoc speak the truth? Had I known Samhain revelers awaited me and deliberately lingered past the hour of safety? I had thoroughly enjoyed our first rapid but powerful sex.
To cover my confusion I grabbed my discarded shift and clutched it to my breasts.
What about the premature darkness on Samhain? I hadn’t caused that. And the demon worshipers had used it.
“Don’t go all meek and embarrassed on me, Wren. Why else would you deliberately walk into that crumbling old hill fort at sunset on Samhain but to delight in ritual rape by demons? You wanted me to fuck you.”
I didn’t think so.
“I told you and your father that first day you arrived in Venta Belgarum the ritual would take place. You came of your own free will.”
Had he mentioned South Hill? I couldn’t remember. I’d lost too many of those early days in a haze of magic and exhaustion. And headaches. Another threatened me when I fought too hard for memories.
And what of the unnatural wind that had urged me up the hill?
Certainly I’d looked forward to my first Beltane, a loving symbolic union between the Goddess and Belenos for the benefit of the entire community. It honored women and their role in life.
Carradoc’s fake demons debased women. They sought only their own twisted pleasure in another’s pain. Their “ritual” honored nothing but evil.
The little bit of affection I had been feeling toward him faded as mist in the sunshine. All traces of the pleasing scents of flowers and cedars and sun-warmed Pridd became masked by the no-longer-desirable acrid odor of a man with the need on him.
“You and your friends were seeking to raise power by enticing demons with blood and pain. I sensed the magic rising. That power was the only thing that allowed you to penetrate the labyrinth. If Da hadn’t stopped your ritual, the things you raised from the Netherworld would have rampaged out of control. Britain would have been devastated far worse than any Saxon horde could inflict!”
“Don’t preach to me, Wren. Maybe some of those young bucks thought they were raising power. Most of us were merely playing.”
“The others wore painted markings on their bodies. Perhaps Samhain was a game to them. But you — you wear tattoos unlike a priest ordained by any god I know, not even Cernunnos.” I pointed at the blue, red, and black markings etched into his skin. “What perverted god do you serve, Carradoc?”
“I wear the tattoos of a warrior, earned in single combat and full battle! As our people wore tattoos for many centuries until the Romans came and made us exchange honorable body art for mere beads.” He shook his head, making the blue beads entwined there rattle. “If I serve any god, it is Cuchulainn, the greatest of heroes and warriors.”
But not a god of rape and demons.
My newly awakened body tried to tell me Carradoc’s past didn’t matter. He could give me pleasure. He could give me children.
Common sense told me to never trust him. Memory of his vicious smile beneath a demon mask as he guided my hand to inflict the knife wound on himself sent chills through my body.
“Look, Wren, I promised not to hurt you. And I haven’t hurt you now, no matter how hastily I took you. You were hot and wet and as eager as any Beltane maid. More than ready. I swear that you are ready again just as I am.” He stood up to shed his leggings. “Why hold a grudge?”
We had made binding promises. I could divorce him, here and now. But that wouldn’t gain me the protection my father sought for me. Nor would divorce bring Curyll to my side. He and Lancelot left the city yesterday evening on a mission for King Uther.
“Seal in a circle your promise not to hurt me.” I gathered my legs under me to run if he would not do as I asked.
“What will you do if I don’t? You have no options but to obey me as any proper wife should.”
My only option left was to flee to Avalon, alone, without supplies or the protection of a bardic harp on my back. Once there I could exist as the hermit did, alone. I’d spend my days scraping a living from the earth and honoring the Goddess.
Alone.
Could the faeries protect me in open country for several days?
They hadn’t blessed this ceremony with their presence.
I knew in that moment that a solitary life away from Curyll and Da and the Ardh Rhi didn’t fit my life pattern.
Carradoc might try to hide me away in his caer up North. But he was ambitious and needed to be near the Ardh Rhi in the capital. He needed my connection to The Merlin to gain more political power.
I had heard enough about the coming war to know that the Saxons targeted Dun Edin in the far North. Uther and my father planned to occupy the caer overlooking the vulnerable Firth of Forth before the Saxons could. The center of political activity would be closer to Carradoc’s caer than to Venta Belgarum.
My father had secreted something special in the North. He needed me to guard a specific sacred place. My perception of the future swirled to include an artifact of power. A very special artifact.
I would not be hidden and isolated for long.
“Seal your promise in a circle, or I swear I will make your life so miserable you will long for an honorable death in battle. I am a priestess of the Goddess, The Merlin’s daughter. I have access to powers beyond the everyday authority belonging to a wife.” We stared at each other a long moment, weighing and assessing.
“A circle, huh?” He snatched a stick from the nearby underbrush. Slowly he walked a large circle around me, dragging the stick behind him. When the curving lines joined, he threw the dead branch back into the brush and stepped inside.
“Within this ring, I promise, Arylwren, that I will never hurt you, as long as you remain faithful to me.” In one swift movement, his leggings dropped to the ground and he snatched the shift from my hands.
He pulled me close for one long kiss. Then he flipped me over, facedown on the ground, and forcibly lifted my hips to receive him.
“And I’ll make certain you are obedient and faithful with your belly full of my sons.”
The circle sealed his vow. His thrust spilled his seed inside me and sealed my fate.
o0o
“We are in luck,” Carradoc chortled, rubbing his hands together. He raked me with his gaze, eyes lingering on the swell of my breasts above the bright blue gown Blasine had given me for the Christian wedding ceremony.
The same color as my father’s eyes when he smiled in the sunshine. I didn’t want this reminder of Da. His manipulations had gone too far. Did he know that Carradoc had led the Samhain revelers? Did it matter to him as long as I obeyed his orders? My newly revised view of the patterns of past, present, and future flew apart every time I tried to puzzle out my next move.
I had very few choices left.
“How are we in luck?” I idly arranged the heavy folds of the blue brocade and pale green woolen stola draped over it. Better to fuss with my formal attire than touch him in any way. Surely after three times this morning he couldn’t be ready for sex again.
The gleam in Carradoc’s eyes told me differently.
“Archbishop Dyfrig has returned from Wales. He will preside over the ceremony.” Carradoc puffed out his chest, as a gander is wont to do to impress a mate or intimidate a rival.
He behaved more like a randy goat than a proud gander. I ached terribly from his repeated attentions.
A long bath with Blasine and the other brides this afternoon had helped. The hours of preparation for the large Christian ceremony — hours away from Carradoc — had helped.
I had let the serving women comb and braid my unruly hair into an intricate style of graceful loops. I had accepted the gift of perfume from Ygraina. But I had rejected the offer of cosmetics. The beautiful woman who looked back at me from the polished metal mirror almost resembled me, cosmetics would have robbed me of any contact with my sense of self.
The look of appreciation in Carradoc’s eyes when he met me at the door to the bower confirmed what the mirror had told me. The usually stone-faced guards also looked twice at me and smiled.
I recognized the power of beauty and cowered within at the way women manipulated men with it. Was this any different from what my father did? Or Nimuë and Morgaine?
This was how I had wished to appear for Curyll the night of the Samhain banquet. If I had won his affection that night, I would always doubt its validity. I didn’t want Curyll if his heart truly belonged to another. Where did his heart lie?
Curyll and Morgaine would not wed today. Uther had sent him elsewhere with urgent dispatches. I wasn’t certain if I rejoiced that Curyll remained free or not. I had cast my lot with Carradoc, for good or ill.
The six other grooms would leave with the united army on the morrow. Carradoc would escort me to his home before joining a second massing of troops in Dun Edin.
For all my soreness and wariness in my husband’s presence, there was a new contentment inside me. More than a heightened sensual awareness, more than knowledge that my training as a priestess was now complete. A little effort brought people’s thoughts to my mind. I knew their emotions from the colored layers of energy radiating out from their heads. Fire leaped to my command with a snap of my fingers — much easier than before.
Somehow, sex had awakened more magic within me than I thought possible.
But I wouldn’t use it, even from my usually shadowed hiding places. Not if it meant I manipulated and used people to my own ends. Better to forsake all of my magic than do what Da did.
I needed to talk to Da about this. I didn’t want to see him again. He hadn’t met me at the entrance to the women’s bower as I expected. Only Carradoc would escort me to the Christian wedding.
I guessed that having disposed of me, Da poured all of his concentration into battle preparations. He had no need to attend this wedding.
“What difference which cleric says the words at our marriage? By every tradition we hold dear, you are my husband by law and by deed.” I wanted the ordeal of the ceremony over. I wanted a routine established. I wanted Carradoc gone to war.
“Dyfrig is well loved by the Ardh Rhi and Ygraina and well on his way to being named a saint in his home province. The archbishop’s blessing of our marriage is a sign of political favor. After this, Uther has to back me in my bid for the kingship of Gorre — very near the archbishop’s home.”
He preceded me by two long strides as we made our way to the courtyard outside the round chapel.
“I did not realize Baudemagus of Gorre had died,” I said. Da and I had visited the aging but still vital king last year right after I left Avalon. I had liked the old man. He’d always treated me as an adult, not a scruffy child, and laughed with me at the long and rambling stories he told of his youth. I learned more history from him than from the long ballads authorized by the bards. Gruff and independent, Baudemagus didn’t play politics. He sent his warband where they were needed, when they were needed. Otherwise he kept them home, protecting his borders from incursions by Saxons, Irish, or other kings.
“The old fart hasn’t died yet. But he took his warband home last autumn. He’s out of favor with Uther. His crown is ripe for the plucking, and I intend to grab it before it falls to the ground.”
Almost as an afterthought, Carradoc grabbed my hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. For the crowd Carradoc needed to appear attentive and caring. He didn’t need to alter his attitude for me, his bride of a few hours.
I was already his possession.
“With the archbishop’s blessing and your magical powers of persuasion, Uther won’t be able to resist my bid for the crown of Gorre.”
“I will not use my magic to influence anyone,” I whispered, yanking my hand away from his arm. He recaptured it in both of his. The delicate bones of my wrist protested the fierceness of his grip.
“Don’t balk me now, Wren. Uriens is handfasting Leodegran’s daughter today. And Galathin weds Princess Blasine. Both want Gorre as badly as I do and will use their marriage alliance to get it. I need you and the Christians, even if I don’t need their sniveling god.”
“No god should be reviled.” I stopped short, dragging him to a reluctant halt. “We may not agree with the god, we may have disagreements with the followers. But no god deserves contempt. I will respect this ceremony and the vows I recite as part of it. Will you?”
He glared at me and tried to pull me forward again without answering.
I dug in my heels. “Will you respect this marriage ceremony and the vows required of us?”
“If I have to. I need the power the Christians control at court.” He dismissed my objections. “Don’t make me forcibly carry you to this wedding, Wren. You’ll look a fool. You will make me look a fool.” A threat lay behind his words.
I chose a different pattern.
I shook off his possessive grasp of my elbow and strode purposefully toward the dais beside the doorway of the chapel. Carradoc had to lengthen his stride to keep up or look the reluctant groom. We arrived at the dais at the same time, both a little breathless.
Sniggers ran through the crowd at our seeming eagerness. I proudly faced the cleric who mounted the three steps of the raised platform. Carradoc lowered his eyes and hid his resentful expression.
Now recovered from his life-threatening illness, Father John, in his simple brown robe, strode behind the richly clothed archbishop. Gold brocade ornamented Dyfrig’s vestments and the high, mitered hat that made him appear taller and more slender than I knew he must be. Layers of pure white and loving blue energy pulsed out from his entire body. Power, vivid and potent. Power akin to my father’s. And mine.
I looked closer, expecting to see a face like Father Thomas’, the gentle priest who had tried to exorcise the demon from Curyll’s tongue.
My father’s face and twinkling bright eyes looked back at me, except this man’s hair and beard were jet black. Da’s hair had turned prematurely white by the time I was born.
Everything I believed turned upside down. Da had betrayed everything he held dear, including me, by living a double life as Christian archbishop and Druid of the Goddess. I couldn’t trust him anymore.
I didn’t trust my husband.
Curyll had deserted me for another.
I was as alone as if I had retreated to Avalon.