Page 85 of The Dragon Ring
And lays down his head in his final sleep, Gwawl. Mighty Gwawl.
I looked sideways at Arthur, who was listening intently still, on his face a look of rapt concentration. I’d been wrong. For a few short hours it had felt like I belonged, but I didn’t. How could I? How could a woman from the twenty-first century ever belong in the fifth? How could my feelings for Arthur be real? It was all an illusion. Nathan was where I belonged. Nathan, waiting for me, grieving, his entire world turned upside down by my disappearance. For the first time since we’d left Viroconium, Nathan’s face became clear in my head, sharp and real. Dodging it was impossible now– I had to get back to Glastonbury and find the way back to my world. So why was my heart aching?
Down in the lowlands they hear his voice die
And slowly they walk up the valley to see
Why the storm’s passed, the wreckage, the cause–
The hump of the body on top of the crag, Gwawl. Mighty Gwawl.
Great rocks they bring to the top of the crag
Small rocks to cover the dead giant’s face
Dark rocks to build a great cairn over him
The last of the giants from the frozen north, Gwawl. Mighty Gwawl.
The last giant’s grave still stands wide and long,
Lying alone on the steep rocky crag
The wind that still whistles down through the pass
Is the song that now lulls the sleep, of Gwawl. Mighty Gwawl.
A cheer went up as Gwalchmei’s song came to a close. He did a solemn bow, first to Arthur and me, and then to the room. I joined in the applause, but my sore heart was no longer in it.
I left the Hall before Arthur, and with Maia’s help, undressed and climbed into bed. I’d hoped to be genuinely asleep when Arthur arrived, but sleep wouldn’t come, only tears, and when I heard the door open and his quiet footsteps approach, I closed my eyes tightly and tried to slow my breathing.
I felt him sit on the end of the bed and heard him grunt as he pulled off his boots. They thudded onto the floor, followed by his belt and then his tunic and shirt. In bare feet, he padded to the table where Maia had left a bowl of water, tepid when I’d had it but surely cold now, and I heard him throw water on his face. I knew what came next– cleaning his teeth with a frayed twig and powdered charcoal mixed with dried mint leaves, spitting the black residue and then rinsing and spitting again.
He came back to the bed, and removed his braccae, unlacing the ties that held them up and stepping out of them. Then came the sound of him blowing out the oil lamp. Naked, he slid into bed. Strong arms encircled me, and his body curled around mine. It was impossible not to like the sensation as his hands explored my breasts and his mouth nuzzled my neck. Only a heart of stone could have withstood that, and I was just a weak woman with an aching heart I didn’t understand. I rolled over and succumbed to temptation.
Chapter Twenty-Three
It was severalweeks before I had the opportunity to carry out my plan of escape, weeks in which I struggled with the growing bond between Arthur and myself. Back in his own kingdom, he continued to surprise me. Most mornings he held a meeting in the Great Hall to discuss the affairs of his kingdom with his captains, to which any of his subjects could come. Once a week, he held a court where people presented grievances for his judgement, and he tried anyone who’d committed a crime. Justice was administered. I was impressed.
The extra warriors who’d accompanied us from Viroconium, and those who kept arriving in twos and threes from the other kingdoms, slept mostly in the Great Hall. Once the tables had been cleared away in the evenings, they laid out their bed rolls on top of the reeds. The ever-blazing hearth fire made it a warm and cozy, if pretty smelly, place to sleep as Christmas approached. I was getting used to the smells.
I now understood more about the workings of the fortress. The whole place buzzed with an industry that I hadn’t taken in at first. Potters churned out day-to-day utensils, although Cei had the finer ware for the Great Hall imported from the Mediterranean. Metalworking shops clustered together near the stables– some forging weapons, others tools for farming. Woodworkers pedaled lathes to turn bowls and table legs, or produced spear shafts, shields and ploughs. Women busied themselves with weaving, and making or repairing clothes, or cooking. At this time of year, men, women and children alike winnowed wheat every day, in preparation for taking it to the mill at the foot of the hill. Leatherworkers constantly labored over new saddlery and the mending of broken tack. Armorers hammered ring mail shirts, helmets and gloves. And each day the livestock had to be cared for.
The fortress ran like a well-oiled wheel, and in those weeks, I became a part of it. Cottia took me under her wing, although criticism lurked never far from the surface because I had her precious Arthur’s attention so much of the time.
As far as I could tell, Arthur went nowhere near Tangwyn in those weeks. He slept with me every night, and during the day, when he wasn’t busy running his kingdom, he took time to be with me. I liked to think it was out of choice. On fine days, we rode out together, winding our way down the paved road to the farmsteads and then branching out into the forest or across the open plain. Sometimes Cei or Theodoric or Bedwyr came with us, or a larger party made up of Arthur’s warriors. Merlin accompanied us every time. It was as if he didn’t trust me when we were outside the walls of the fortress.
Then one day, the opportunity at last arose for Arthur and me to ride out alone.
Mid-morning came, and the business of ruling the kingdom had been quickly accomplished. The only plaintiff had been a gaunt middle-aged woman named Mabina.
“Me ’usband upped and left me fer a slip of a girl, an’ now ’e’s gone an’ set up an ’ousehold with ’er, leavin’ me on me tod wi’ three girls to get married off, and no man ter ’elp me,” she began, and then continued to ramble on at length about every perceived fault he possessed.
The husband, Einion, a stocky, grizzle-bearded farmer, on the other hand had been terse. “She be a right scold. Couldn’t live with ’er a day longer. An ’er girls takes after their mother.”
Arthur’s judgement had been swift.
“A wife should never be a scold,” he said, after careful consideration of the facts and the surly countenances of the two opponents. “But a husband is responsible for her upkeep for the whole of her life.” He fixed the husband with a hard stare. “You will work four days on the property you share with your new woman, and two for your lawful wife, who needs you less as she has her three unmarried daughters to work the fields with her.”
