Page 63 of The Bear's Heart
“You’re right,” Arthur said. “We don’t want to keep you.” Had that same thought occurred to him?
Morgawse put her hand on Arthur’s arm, her fingers small and pale. With a shock, the impulse came to me to knock her hand away. When I looked up, Morgana was watching me. Did she know I’d had that wicked thought?
“Send her back to our brother,” Morgawse said. “She can take our message to him.” She was the strong Morgawse again, not the scared mouse about to give birth in a kitchen during a skirmish. If that was what pregnancy did to you, I wasn’t impressed.
“Yes, send her back,” Caswallan said. Clearly, he didn’t want to face the same fate Euddolen had, for sheltering us. “And leave. Once the women are buried, I want you to leave.” He probably hadn’t banked on us bringing back the king’s sister– who could tell her brother exactly who’d given us help against him.
Arthur gave a curt nod. “You are my sister, and a woman. I cannot cause you harm. I will not harm women, as my brother does. Wars should not be fought against women and children. Not even Saxon women. You can take a message to my brother.” He glanced down at me. “Tell him my wife is with child. That I have begun a dynasty of my own in Dumnonia. Tell him that if he crosses me again, including any move against Caswallan, who is innocent in this, I will take his kingdom from him. Not because I want it– I don’t– but he won’t understand that. I’ll take it because I want him gone. And I always carry out my threats.”
Morgana smiled at him, a knowing, sly smile. Her eyes flicked over my gently curved belly, hidden beneath the soft folds of my light gown, and her lip curled in contempt. She raised her dark brows at her brother in a silent mockery that made my skin crawl.
“You may take her, Caswallan,” Arthur said, a pulse beating angrily in his neck. “Send your own men as her escort and assure my brother of your loyalty.” Contempt edged his voice.
*
We left thenext morning, riding south through the foothills of the Welsh mountains, headed toward Caer Legeion gwar Uisc, modern Caerleon on the River Usk, where we could leave Morgawse with her husband, or, if he wasn’t there, at least in his home.
From amongst the servants at Caswallan’s villa we’d acquired a young girl to help Morgawse with the baby. Gitta was one of Melvina’s housemaids, so needed very little training to take on the duties required of her, and Morgawse seemed pleased.
Our wounded were loaded into wagons to be sent directly to Din Cadan under guard, whilst we, and the majority of Arthur’s somewhat reduced army, took the Caer Legeion road.
Along with Gitta, Morgawse was to ride in the single wagon that accompanied us. For once, I also found this a more comfortable way to travel. My belly was beginning to impinge a little on my riding, and I was exhausted by the events of the past days and weeks, so it was pleasant to ride on the piles of cushions and rugs in the back of the wagon with the two women and the little baby, and to sometimes doze away the afternoons. There were fewer flies to contend with as well.
Baby Medraut was charming, and despite my inbuilt distrust of him, I found myself liking his ready smiles and infectious giggles when Morgawse tickled him. He was like babies the world over– loveable, plump, impossible to get angry with. Although watching him as he sat happily on his mother’s or Gitta’s knees, I couldn’t help but be forcibly reminded not only of what the future might have in store for him, but also that he looked so much like my husband.
Chapter Twenty-Four
We took ourjourney slowly. The wagon governed the speed at which the whole party could move, so it took quite a few long summer days before we eventually ground into Caer Legeion. The town lay about five or six miles inland from the Sabrina Sea by way of the twisting river Usk, less as the crow flies.
The long-abandoned legionary fortress still squatted in stony ruins beside the post-Roman fifth-century town that had grown up beside it, and warehouses clustered around the port. Visible just outside the fortress walls lay the crumbling remains of a large amphitheater. It had obviously once been both a thriving port and military center.
We rode into the town just as the bell in the tower of the small church began to chime, calling the people to worship. Down in the harbor, the masts of a dozen ships rose like a bare and spindly forest, so it looked as though we might be lucky and find Theodoric still in port. He met us in the street in front of his house, his big face flushed with joy to see his wife and son once more. With a cry of excitement, Morgawse handed the baby to me and jumped recklessly down from the back of the wagon to throw herself into his arms, clinging on like a limpet. He wrapped his strong arms around her, holding her close, his face buried in her dark hair. It was a touching moment. If I hadn’t known of his predilection for sleeping around, I might have been moved by it.
By the time Arthur had helped me down from the wagon as well, they’d parted, her cheeks flushed and her hair slightly tousled after their vigorous embrace. She turned to me, eyes alight, and I willingly handed over the baby who was just waking up. The little dark-haired boy blinked up as Theodoric bent over him, his own blond hair shining in the sunlight. Not recognizing this gigantic stranger, the baby’s face crumpled into a cry and his angry wail rose above the sounds of the town that surrounded us.
Theodoric scowled and Morgawse laughed. “He’ll soon get used to you. It’s been more than six months.”
Had the baby reacted because Theodoric wasn’t his father? Could a baby know such a thing? Or was it the normal fears of a baby for a huge man he didn’t recognize suddenly looming over him? How would I ever find out without betraying my lack of trust in my husband?
We stayed two weeks at Caer Uisc with Theodoric in his spacious town house. Our men pitched their camp within the tumbledown walls of the old legionary fortress and set about relaxing after the stress of battle.
Merlin had a twinkle in his eye when I asked him how the men were amusing themselves. “If you were to take a walk into the town along the Street of the Coppersmiths you’d no longer find any coppersmiths, but several very good brothels. All of them regularly bulging with our warriors.”
Knowing the men as I did now, I wasn’t really surprised.
During those two weeks I did my best to emulate Arthur and push to the back of my mind all memories of the man I’d killed and what had happened to Euddolen’s family. It wasn’t easy.
But after two weeks our welcome was becoming a little strained as there were so many of us. The townspeople’s patience had worn thin over the number of times drunken warriors disturbed their peace. So we marched east again, along the shores of the Sabrina Sea to the ferry which was to take Arthur, Merlin and me directly across into Dumnonia with half a dozen warriors as an escort. The rest of the army, under Cei, would take the longer land route up round Caer Gloui, modern Gloucester, to where a bridge crossed the river.
The ferry looked a ramshackle affair. A wooden sailing boat rested up against an ancient pier, with a gangplank I didn’t much fancy risking. And that was before realizing our horses were also expected to negotiate this narrow plank. It hadn’t occurred to me that our horses would need to travel with us, but of course, we’d require them on the other side.
Arthur and Merlin were already swinging down out of their saddles, their warriors following suit, so, with reluctance, I did the same. Alezan pricked her long ears as the first of the warriors led his horse up to the plank and began to cross it. Much to my amazement the horse followed her rider onto the small ship and down into the belly of the vessel. There was only just enough room in there for our nine horses, which seemed like a lot of weight for this little boat. A quick, and nervous, mental calculation brought me to the conclusion that horses and armed riders combined, we must have weighed almost five tons.
The owner of the ferry, a weatherworn little man whose brown clothes didn’t quite manage to disguise their grubbiness, started waving his arms about irately. “If’n ’ee dursn’t git they ’orses on board soon ye’ll miss th’tide. ’Tis on th’turn.” He wiped his dripping nose on the back of a grimy hand. “Ye’ll ’ave ter wait twelve hours amore if’n yer dursnt git on me boat now.”
Our remaining warriors swiftly led their horses on board. After Arthur had boarded his horse, Merlin stood back to allow me on next. I hesitated, uncertain. All the other horses had walked along that plank with no problem, but I was afraid, since Alezan, being so skittish, might be far less calm about it.
“She can do it.” Merlin laid a hand on my arm, trying to be reassuring. But that didn’t change the fact that beneath the plank a few feet of dark water glimmered, into which I had a clear picture of Alezan falling, taking me with her.
