Page 82 of The Dragon Ring
Not that it bothered me; my horse had carried me a good three hundred miles, and I’d grown fond of him. I took my time rubbing the sweat from his body, covering him with his makeshift rug and making sure he had a good portion of grain and hay, and a leather bucket of water. I was in no hurry to face the Great Hall as its new queen. The knot of nerves that resided in my stomach was only growing tighter.
Arthur eventually came to find me.
“What’re you doing? He’s fine now. Leave him to eat in peace.”
I looked up from where I’d been squatting, brushing the mud from my horse’s shaggy fetlocks. “He needs to be clean, or he might get mud fever.”
He reached a hand down and took me by the wrist, pulling me upright, laughing. “Enough’s enough. You can come out here and brush him again in the morning when the mud’s dry, but right now we have to go and celebrate with my people.”
He gave me a tug, but I resisted, stubbornly.
“What’s wrong?” His voice softened. Did he guess the turmoil in my heart?
I shrugged. “Nothing. I’m– I’m just a bit nervous.” My feet became suddenly very interesting.
Putting a hand under my chin, he raised my face to his. “What about? This is my home. And now it’s yours. I am its king, and you, its queen. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
How could I expect him to understand? My lower lip trembled, much to my annoyance. “Suppose they don’t like me?”
It was already gloomy in the stables. He was only a silhouette against the open doors. “How could they not? I…” He paused for a long second. “I like you.”
My breath caught.
He went on, a little hastily. “But it isn’t for my people to decide if they like you or not. You are their queen, and they have no say in the matter. Of course they will.”
“You think so?”
He drew me into his embrace, holding me close against his rough mail shirt. One hand caressed my face. I wanted to melt into him. “They will,” he said. “Have no fear. You’re beautiful, and you’re the long-awaited Lady of the Ring.”
I looked up at him. “But you don’t believe in prophecies.”
I felt him smile even though his face was hidden by the gloom.
“I may not,” he said, “but they certainly do. The story of how I’ve become both king of Dumnonia and Dux Britanniarum will be round the whole fortress by now. You’re their lucky charm.”
He bent his head and kissed my lips. My mouth opened under his, and I clung to him, wanting that embrace to go on forever. But after a moment, he gently released me. “Come, let’s get you out of these travel clothes. You’re not fit to be seen as a queen when you’re dressed as a boy. Inside.”
I let him lead me into the Great Hall. Torches burned in brackets on the pillars, and in the hearth, a fire glowed beneath the carcass of a roasting deer. The feeling of never having been away was strong.
We went through the door into Arthur’s bedchamber. Our saddle bags lay on the end of the bed. Someone had spread out a beautiful dress of deep red.
I hesitated. “I can’t put that on. I’m dirty.” The bath house at the villa was two long days of riding behind me. I wanted to wash my hair, as my scalp had begun to itch.
“Let’s bathe,” he said firmly, gathering up our clean clothes. “Come on.”
Steam filled the bath house. But instead of going to the women’s side, Arthur led me to his side, and we went in together, hand in hand. A male slave waited there with an array of small, exquisitely made bottles. After the man had helped him take off his mail shirt, Arthur dismissed him with a wave of his hand.
The big wooden bath in the center of the room brimmed with temptingly hot water scented with lavender. With no need for an invitation I slithered out of my travel-stained clothes and stepped into the water. A moment later, Arthur got in with me and sat down at the opposite end, sinking in up to his neck. I reached round and undid my plait, letting my hair float across the surface. Then, holding my breath, I ducked under for a moment and came up gasping.
Arthur laughed at my wet face, and did the same, emerging with his dark hair plastered to his head. His face sobered for a moment. “Come here.”
I went to him, the water sloshing over the edge of the enormous bathtub. I slipped into his arms, and he bent his head and kissed me hard. I kissed him back, my body responding as fast as his. A long moment passed where neither of us came up for air. I was jubilant. He was home in Din Cadan, the offer of Tangwyn there between us, but he’d chosen me. I wriggled round until I straddled him, head, shoulders and naked breasts above the water. His mouth found a nipple as I slid down onto him, and he groaned with pleasure.
We splashed a great deal of water out of that bath between us. It was a good thing it was so big because it gave us ample room to maneuver, which we took full advantage of. And then we washed each other. He massaged the contents of one of the glass bottles into my hair– soapwort, he told me– and I did the same to his, then we rinsed it off, ducking beneath the water together and coming up laughing.
Finally, with the water cooling, we emerged slick and wet and feeling cleaner than either of us had been for days. And then we slowly dressed one another.
Hand in hand, we walked back to the Great Hall through the gathering darkness and a fine rain. Inside, servants were preparing the tables, with bread already laid out on wooden boards and the smell of roasting meat heavy in the air. My stomach rumbled with hunger. Who’d have thought taking a bath could work up such an appetite?
