Page 42 of The Bear's Heart
Merlin sighed. “The men will have to content themselves with you being here in Linnuis. Arthur told me he’s not prepared to risk you again. You’re to remain here with me.”
“And me,” Essylt put in. “It’ll be a change for me to have a royal lady about. I’ve only had brothers since my little sister sickened and died.”
Her matter-of-fact referral to the death of a child shocked me. “What happened? What did she die of?” The perils that would threaten my child once it was born leapt to the forefront of my mind.
Essylt gave a careless shrug. “A fever. What do children usually die of? She was never strong. That was a few years ago now. She was six.” She paused, suddenly thoughtful. “I still miss her. It was nice having a sister.”
From instinct, my hand slid to my belly, cradling my baby. This was an age where common childhood illnesses could be fatal– measles, mumps, diphtheria, smallpox, chickenpox, whooping cough…diseases we vaccinated children for in my time. Even just the common cold or bronchitis might be harder for a child to fight off. An involuntary shiver ran through me.
I looked back at Merlin, anxious for a distraction. “Where are you going?”
He ran his hand down his horse’s neck affectionately. “He needs exercise. I thought I’d ride out into the hills and take a look around. Not far, just enough to let him stretch his legs.”
“Can I come?”
A frown creased his brow. “I don’t know about that. I don’t think that’d be keeping my promise to the King to keep you safe. D’you want him to be angry with me?”
“I was safe watching the battle by the River Glein in your company. I’ll be safe with you now. We can take some of the men he’s left behind as extra guards.” I eyed the men. “The least badly wounded ones. Please. I’ll only be bored here. Please take me with you.”
Essylt looked offended. “I wish I could come,” she said, with an air of regret. “My father won’t let me ride on my own, though.”
I ignored her input and put my hand on Merlin’s sleeve.
I could feel his hesitation. “Alezan needs exercise as much as your horse does, and we don’t need to go far from the city.”
He wavered. “Well…perhaps you could come if we don’t go far.”
On Merlin’s insistence, we confined ourselves to riding around the perimeter of the city walls, jogging along the muddy tracks between farmsteads, which hardly satisfied my longing for freedom, but definitely took care of Merlin’s obligation to keep me safe. We could very easily have taken Essylt with us, novice that she was, on a quiet horse.
Little did I know, but this was to be the pattern of my days for some time to come. With Arthur and the joint forces of the Dux and Linnuis out on campaign, I was left in limbo at Manogan’s court. Each day stretched longer than the last, while we waited for news of the army. Having been present at the battle of the river Glein, it hadn’t crossed my mind that the real burden of having a warrior king for a husband would be the waiting. This was perhaps made worse by the fact that, so short a time before, I’d witnessed a battle with my own eyes, and the confused, tumultuous melee that had made it. I couldn’t help but imagine the battles Arthur might be involved in now, battles in which he would constantly be putting himself at risk.
What if he died, and I never saw him again? Horrible as that fear was, I had to contemplate what I’d do if that happened. If I’d been in Din Cadan, I’d have persuaded someone to take me to Ynys Witrin and the Tor, and I’d have taken myself and my unborn baby back to the safety of the twenty-first century. But here, miles from home, what would happen if suddenly I was no longer queen? Could I rely on Merlin to get me back there?
Essylt did her best to distract me, as did Merlin, but I could tell, as the days passed with no word, that he was growing as nervous and worried as I was. Manogan spent most of his time in his cathedral, so I hardly saw him, and I made excuses to eat in my own chambers at night so I didn’t have to tolerate the noise and heat of the crowded Hall. Essylt, who seemed to have adopted me as a surrogate sister, ate all her meals with me and kept me entertained as best she could with tales of her brothers, and of the court here in Caer Lind Colun. Sometimes Merlin dined with us, but for the most part we were left to ourselves.
On one of those occasions she confided that she was betrothed in marriage. That took me aback somewhat as she seemed far too young to be married off to anyone, but then I remembered that girls were considered ripe at a far younger age in much of the past. At twenty-four, I myself was almost over the hill for marriage and childbirth in the fifth century.
“Who are you betrothed to then?” I asked in curiosity.
We were sitting in the courtyard garden beside the little pond where lilies were just poking their noses up out of the water. Essylt gave a dismissive shake of her head. “Some old king in the south. I forget his name. They betrothed me to him when I was eleven and I have no idea when I’m to marry.”
Some old king? Who could she be talking about? “Aren’t you worried about marrying someone so much older than you?”
She shrugged. “He’s so old he’ll probably die before we marry. And my father doesn’t really want me to go. He says I remind him of my mother and he likes to have me close.”
The fact that he spent his mornings cloistered in the cathedral and his afternoons in his office, then in the evenings Essylt was with me, gave the lie to this. I didn’t feel as confident as Essylt that this marriage was never going to happen. She, however, had the distinct air of someone who thought that if she didn’t acknowledge or name her prospective husband, then it wouldn’t happen. I felt more than a little sorry for her, likely to be dispatched south at any moment to a man she didn’t know.
Who could her affianced husband be? At fifteen, every man over twenty-five looks old, so it could be any of the kings I’d seen at the Council in Viroconium. Perhaps strapping young Natanleod of Caer Gwinntguic. He’d make a good choice for a youthful and romantic princess.
However, in my concern for Arthur, for some time I failed to notice something that was going on right under my nose.
The first intimation of it came a few days later, when Essylt arrived to sit with me in the courtyard garden on a stone bench beneath an arbor of rampant greenery. Flushed and breathless, she almost skipped up the path between the overgrown flowerbeds. No gardeners here to preserve what the Romans had once laid out, and the new season’s weeds were already pushing their way up between the flagstones.
I’d been sitting by myself thinking about Arthur and the baby in my belly, sure that the fluttering I’d felt on and off for the last few days were its movements. Thrilled with the novelty, and half daring to be excited about it, I wished I could take Arthur’s hand and lay it on me so that he, too, could feel it. Essylt disturbed my meditations, dropping down beside me, a wide smile on her face.
Dragging myself back from my thoughts, I eyed her in surprise. “You look cheerful.” She’d been in a mope the day before because her father had flatly refused to let her wear men’s clothes and ride astride. Now her cheeks were flushed pink with excitement and her eyes glowed over-brightly.
“I am,” she said on a breath. “How could I not be?”
