Page 45 of The Bear's Heart
“Don’t broadcast it,” I hissed, glancing over my shoulder to check no one had overheard us.
He leaned toward me. “If anyone else finds out about this…”
I nodded with vigor. “I know. It doesn’t bear thinking about.”
“Her father will probably send her to a house of God.”
I frowned. “No one can tell him.” I put my hand on his arm. “Youcan’t tell him is what I mean.” There was a distinct air of the tattle-tale about Merlin just at that moment.
His mouth came together in a hard line of defiance. “She’s broken the law of the land. The law of her father’s kingdom. She’s committed adultery. He deserves to know.”
Who’d have thought Merlin was such a prude? But then, though he’d visited the twenty-first century, he’d never lived there and would have had no idea of what he’d see as the lax morals. Part of me was taken aback by his reaction, but a larger part couldn’t help but approve that morals were expected to be upheld in this era. Although the fact that it was mostly the morals of women being upheld seemed decidedly unfair.
I gave him my hardest stare. “You can’t tell anyone. She’s just a child who wants a husband nearer her own age. It’s not her fault.”
His brows lowered in a heavy frown. “She’s a royal princess and should know her duty.”
I gave his arm a shake. “She’s a child first and foremost. If you tell her father, then she’ll be punished and God knows what they’ll do to Drustans. You can’t. I won’t let you. And I’m going to need your help to keep them apart.”
With a great show of reluctance, he finally agreed. I was relieved; I needed him to keep Drustans occupied so he had no chance to sniff around Essylt.
Every day when I went for my ride with Merlin, Drustans, looking long-faced and miserable, was one of our party, steadfastly bringing up the rear and refusing all efforts to engage him in conversation. And when we were in the palace, I contrived to keep Essylt close to me, insisting I was lonely, and she should sleep in my bed at night for the three days before her journey south.
I’d managed to make her see sense to a degree. “It’s best if you don’t see him at all,” I told her, with all the wisdom my extra ten years had given me. “It’s safer for him. Do you want him to end up castrated and possibly dead?” It was difficult, but I knew I had to be cruel to be kind. If I’d turned a blind eye, someone would have been bound to find out about them. Going to bed together in an unlocked room in the middle of the day was not rational behavior. Essylt had the good grace not to sulk with me the way Drustans was.
On the day she was to leave, she and I met for the last time in the stable courtyard. Merlin had arranged to send Drustans out with some of the other warriors to scout northwards up Ermine Street, looking for any sign of the returning army, so she didn’t get the opportunity to say goodbye to him. I felt mean, but having kept them apart for three days, I didn’t want her to throw herself into his arms for a tearful farewell in front of a yard full of people, and especially not her own father.
Her escort party numbered a good twenty, including herself and her brother, Anwas, who was looking inordinately proud to be escorting his sister south to her wedding. Two of the number were servants– a burly man on a substantial cob and Essylt’s old nurse, a thin woman with a permanent drip on the end of her nose. The burly man had a saddle pad attached to his saddle, and Essylt was to ride there when she wasn’t traveling in the accompanying covered wagon.
King Manogan, looking more than ever like an emaciated dirty white bird, had foregone his usual morning sojourn on his bony knees in the cathedral, and was seated on his throne, which his servants had carried out into the courtyard. As Arthur’s queen, I stood beside him, watching the preparations and praying Essylt wouldn’t give herself away at the last minute.
She emerged from the hall with a gaggle of women surrounding her, head held high, small chin determined, but her eyes were red from crying. In front of her father, she went down on her knees, head bent for his blessing. For a long moment he didn’t move, and, puzzled, she raised her face to look him in the eye. He stretched out a shaking hand and laid it on the top of her head. Her eyes closed and a tear squeezed between the lids to run down her pale cheek.
“May the Lord God bless your marriage, my daughter.” Manogan’s voice was quavery and uncertain. Was he looking round the watching faces and wondering which boy it was she’d taken such a fancy to? As he withdrew his hand, she rose to her feet, then abruptly turned her back on him and walked toward the mounting block.
She climbed onto it and looked for the last time around the courtyard, desperation in her eyes. I couldn’t help but think how lucky I’d been that Arthur had turned out to be the man he was. I could so easily have been forced into marriage with a man I could never have loved. But this was the fifth century, and women’s desires were not often considered. They hadn’t been with me, and they wouldn’t be with Essylt. I knew the legends. Her love for Drustans had always been doomed.
Her servant brought his cob up to the mounting block and Essylt got on behind him, her long dress draped elegantly over the horse’s quarters. Not the most secure way of riding, but the only one she knew. I wished for her sake she’d been allowed to don boys’ clothes and ride astride. At least it would have made the long journey to the tip of Cornubia a little less onerous.
The wagon rumbled across the uneven paving of the stable courtyard, drawn by a team of four horses, the figure of Essylt’s old nurse perched beside the driver. At least the girl wouldn’t be the only woman on the journey. Essylt craned her head round, scanning the yard. If she was searching for Drustans, then she was out of luck as he was far away with the scouts, heading in the opposite direction.
As the riders filed out behind the wagon, Essylt’s eyes, filled with unshed tears, found mine. Anger boiled up in me, anger at my impotence. I’d wanted to help her but my hands had been tied, and her fate, which was already written, moved inexorably onward. March was her destiny, not his handsome son. A lonely grave near Caer Dore awaited that young man, a grave that never proclaimed him as a king, perhaps foretelling an early death for him; a grave I’d once stood beside with my father at the edge of the busy road into Fowey, only a few miles from his father’s stronghold.
My heart filled with sad regrets.
*
Midsummer had arrivedbefore the army returned. Essylt had been gone three weeks and was probably already safely married to March of Caer Dore. Scouts preceded the main body of the army, so we were all gathered on the walls above the north gate waiting to welcome them home when they came riding south down Ermine Street. Arthur’s banner depicting a rampant bear flew above their heads, fluttering as the breeze caught the light material and made it dance. Wishing for binoculars, I strained my eyes, trying to pick out the white horse that was Arthur’s, and failing. Where was he? Why wasn’t he riding at the front, as usual?
My heart beat in the base of my throat, the small hairs on my skin stood up and a cold sweat dampened my brow. I lowered my hands to cradle my now gently rounded belly, comforting the restless child within, praying for his father’s safe return.
The column drew nearer, and my eager gaze alighted on the white shield emblazoned with the black bear that Arthur carried. I put my hand up to shade my eyes and strained, but he was too far away to be sure it was him. Beside me, Merlin’s knuckles whitened as he gripped the edge of the stone crenellations. Was he as nervous as I was, despite his possession of the Sight?
At last, I recognized Arthur’s dark head and familiar features, his hair confined by a bandage, and a thick dark beard covering his chin. If I could have flown to him from the parapet, I would have. Inaction ate at me as the column crept slowly toward us along the road, passing between farms where the people came hurrying out to watch.
As the riders approached the gates, I turned from the parapet and ran down the steps to the road below, where the population of the city waited to greet their returning heroes. I shoved between the hot bodies, using my elbows to fight my way to the front. The first horse came through the gates, Gwalchmei carrying the bear standard, and a great cheer went up. My gaze went past him. Another rider emerged from the shadows of the gateway– Arthur, on a chestnut horse I didn’t recognize. Where was his beloved grey mare Llamrei?
“Arthur!” I ran toward him. Behind me, Merlin reached the front of the crowd and called my name, but I ignored him.
