Page 8 of The Bear's Heart
Kelwyn brought his horse up on my left and Gorsedd on Drustans’ right, pressing in far too close because there was very little room for four.
I was startled. “What’re you doing?” I asked, turning toward Kelwyn as he put his hand out and grabbed Alezan’s reins near her bit. At the same time, Gorsedd raise his spear butt and swung it at Drustans. The butt connected with the side of the boy’s head with a loud thwack. For a moment, shock held me rigid. Then realization that this was not something my escort should be doing kicked in. I snatched up my reins as Drustans toppled backward off his horse onto the muddy track.
Drustans’ horse was between me and Gorsedd, but Kelwyn had firm hold of Alezan near her bit. I did the only thing I could think of– I threw myself off Alezan onto Drustans’ empty horse, swinging my leg over the saddle and managing to kick Gorsedd hard in the side as I did so. Kelwyn gave an angry shout and let Alezan go. She shied away, turning into the track, and headed back along the way we’d come in a trot, reins hanging loose.
I grabbed for the reins of Drustans’ horse, driving my heels hard into his side. He sprang forward between Kelwyn and Gorsedd. However, Gorsedd still had the spear in his hands. The shaft hit me across the stomach, knocking me backward off the horse. I landed on my back in the mud just feet from Drustans’ inert body, and all the air shot out of my lungs. For a moment I saw stars. Then horses’ legs came into view perilously close to my head. I coughed and spluttered, gasping for breath that didn’t want to come.
“Ye shouldn’t have done that,” said Kelwyn’s voice, disembodied and far away. “We’re s’posed to fetch ’er without ’urting ’er.”
“She was going to get away,” Gorsedd’s voice retorted.
A pair of booted legs landed close by me and strong arms dragged me to my feet.
I was spitting. “What d’you think you’re doing?” I gasped as soon as there was breath in my lungs. “Get your hands off me. I’m your Queen.”
Kelwyn, who had tight hold of my upper arm, didn’t let go. For the first time today, I paid him proper attention. Several inches taller than me and probably no older than I was, he had dirty brown hair, a crooked nose and hazel eyes. He didn’t possess the sort of face I’d have expected a kidnapper to have, but then, neither did Merlin, and he’d kidnapped me from my own world.
“No use struggling, Milady,” Kelwyn said with a hint of apology. “Our orders is to take you to our lord. We won’t ’urt ye, but it’ll be best if ye come quietly, else we’ll ’ave to bind your ’ands at the least.”
I looked from Kelwyn to Gorsedd in fury– and in trepidation. “My husband is your lord,” I said with as much dignity as I could muster. “You owe allegiance to none but him.”
“Not so,” Gorsedd butted in. With his villainous countenance he looked well suited to his new role as kidnapper. “Our first allegiance is to the lord of Dinas Brent, where we come from.”
“Dinas Brent?” I’d assumed they had something to do with Cadwy, Arthur’s brother, who’d already unsuccessfully tried to prise me away from Arthur.
“Shut up, Gorsedd,” Kelwyn snapped, tightening his hold on me as I twisted to get away. Alezan disappeared around the bend in the track, in the same direction as the meat wagon. Surely the wagon and its drivers couldn’t be that far ahead of her and would see her and come to my rescue?
“You’re Melwas’s men?” Now I knew where they were from, their lord’s face came back to me. I’d seen him in Viroconium at the Council of Kings that had elected Arthur as Dux Britanniarum. I remembered his narrow, sly face, his aquiline nose and calculating eyes, and his straight black hair flecked with grey. What could he want me for? What did any man want a woman for in the fifth century? Not conversation, that was for sure.
Gorsedd brought the horses.
“Get up on this one and don’t try anything, Milady,” Kelwyn said, releasing my arm and offering his hand to give me a leg up. My stirrups had departed with Alezan. “And ’urry up. We’ve a long way to ride.”
I couldn’t think what to do. I couldn’t run away because they’d catch me, and then they’d tie me up and I’d have to go anyway. Pretending to faint would most likely see me unceremoniously dumped across the saddle. Maybe I could keep them talking. I looked across at Drustans lying sprawled on the cold ground, an angry red mark on the side of his pale forehead. “At least let me check if he’s all right,” I said, wanting not just to take a look at the boy, but also to play for time.
Kelwyn shook his head. “Leave ’im. There’s no time. Up you go.”
With great reluctance I put my foot in his hand and he hoisted me up into the saddle. Settling down, I grabbed for the reins, but Gorsedd flicked them over the horse’s head and hung onto them.
For the second time in the fifth century, I was a prisoner.
Chapter Four
It was thirtymiles to Dinas Brent– the Isle of Frogs– through wintry forest that eventually thinned out to become marshy wetlands. A narrow, hardly visible causeway wound between stunted trees and open pools of brackish water where shreds of mist hung damply about the thorn bushes like snagged silk.
Drustans’ horse kept up well with those of Kelwyn and Gorsedd, but I kept glancing over my shoulder, hoping for signs of pursuit. Surely Alezan had caught up with the meat wagon. Surely they’d come across Drustans, left for dead in the mud. Surely I’d been missed by now, and Arthur would be hot on my heels.
No help came.
Thoughts jostled through my head. What did Melwas, King of the Summer Country, want with me? Why had he risked offending Arthur, his overlord, by stealing his queen? The questions rattled round in my head as Dinas Brent drew ever closer, the huge hill rising out of the flat wetlands like a brooding threat.
“You won’t get away with this,” I said to my captors, with a false show of bravado. “My husband will come after you. You’re dead men.”
They ignored me.
“He’s Dux Britanniarum, not just your king. Every kingdom in Britain will be after you.”
Kelwyn glanced at me, his homely face unmoved by my threats.
