Page 9 of The Bear's Heart
I tried a different tack. “Why’ve you taken me? What does Melwas want with me?”
Still no response.
Infuriated, I kicked my horse up closer to theirs. “Is he doing this for Cadwy? Is he being paid?”
But Kelwyn and Gorsedd just looked away from me toward our ever-nearing destination, their surly faces as unmoved by my protests as if I’d been a buzzing fly. Ignored, I gave up and settled into silence as well, acutely aware that where they were taking me was not about to turn out to be a nice place. Fear pricked at my skin whenever I thought about what lay ahead. Being a captive woman in the Dark Ages was not something I was likely to enjoy.
Farms clustered cheek by jowl at the foot of the isolated hill that was Dinas Brent, crowded onto the slopes of the encircling dry land. A narrow, rutted roadway climbed upwards to the summit. My horse, still being led by Gorsedd, picked its way through the potholes and mud to wooden gates set in a palisade wall that was a pale shadow of the immense fortifications at Din Cadan. These gates swung open in answer to a shout from Kelwyn, and we rode through them into the inner circle of the fortress just as night began to fall.
Dinas Brent was considerably smaller than Din Cadan. The houses were distinguishable from the barns and storage huts only by the smoke that rose from the dark thatch of their rooftops and the chinks of light glimmering through the cracks in their warped wooden doors. Miserable looking cattle huddled close together in a pen, the mist of their breath rising into the darkening sky, and the bleating of sheep carried from a dilapidated barn. Middens were heaped everywhere, steaming warmly, one giving a bed to half a dozen brindled hounds.
In the center, on the highest ground, loomed a smaller, shabbier version of the great hall at Din Cadan. Close behind it, the square shape of a half-ruined Romano-Celtic temple rose out of the gloom, the plaster flaking away from its crumbling walls. In places, a few terracotta tiles still adorned the skeleton of the roof.
Gorsedd and Kelwyn halted in front of the hall and dismounted. I stayed sitting on Drustans’ horse, the thought that I might outsmart them yet, even in the lion’s den, still at the forefront of my mind. But Gorsedd looped my reins around a post, and there was nothing I could do.
“Down you get then, Milady,” Kelwyn said, with some rather-too-late respect.
Giving him my hardest and angriest glare, I slid from the saddle and smoothed my tunic. The ride had been long, and it was good to have my feet back on the ground– just not this ground.
“Inside.” Kelwyn gestured toward the unguarded door into the hall, and Gorsedd threw it open in front of me.
Stiffening both my backbone and my resolve, I followed Gorsedd into the hall. The dim light of smoldering torches set in iron brackets illuminated the interior. Long trestle tables ran down the center, cluttered with dirty plates and overturned goblets. Beyond the tables, a lackluster hearth fire burned in a shallow pit, filling the air with enough acrid smoke to make my eyes sting and tear up. On the far side of the fire pit stood a single table and at that table, poring over a map, sat Melwas.
He glanced up as we entered, his narrow lips curving into a satisfied smile as his hooded black eyes took me in from head to toe. He reminded me of a snake waiting to strike, and a shiver ran down my spine.
“You got her!” He rose to his feet, letting the map roll itself back up again. “At last. Bring her here.”
Kelwyn took my elbow and propelled me down the hall, my feet scuffing in the dirty reeds underfoot. A damp musty smell, reminiscent of wet dog, rose to my nostrils, and a couple of scrawny hounds slunk further beneath the tables as we passed.
I stopped two paces from Melwas, who had come round the table to stand in front of me. He was taller than I remembered, and more powerfully built, but then, I’d not gone anywhere near him in Viroconium. His dark, lascivious eyes looked me up and down hungrily. “Yes, this is she. You’ve done well.” He took my hand in his and stared down at the dragon ring on my finger. “So, this is the dragon ring we’ve all heard so much about.” He twisted it around to examine every side. “As promised in that prophecy, the ring that bestows power on the man who holds the hand that wears it.”
I snatched my hand back, feeling soiled by his touch, afraid of the lust in his eyes.
What could I do or say to deflect his intention? Desperation inspired me. “My Lord Melwas,” I said, as haughtily as possible, drawing on all Cottia’s advice about how a queen should behave. If only I were wearing an elegant gown and my gold circlet crown instead of grubby braccae and tunic. “Kindly have me escorted back to my husband’s fortress. And have these men thrown into prison. They struck my loyal guard and dragged me here against my will. If you return me now, my husband, your king, will be most grateful and reward you for your kindness.” It was worth a try. Maybe Melwas could be brought to see that this was all a big mistake and that he ought to pretend it wasn’t his idea and send me straight home.
He shook his head, the hint of a smile at the corner of his thin-lipped mouth. I hadn’t really expected it would work.
“You cannot be returned,” he said smoothly. “You will remain here with me for the time being. You are to consider yourself my guest.”
I decided to keep going as the affronted Queen. “This is intolerable.” My own twenty-first-century queen would have been impressed by my hauteur, not that she’d ever had to face being kidnapped. “You must return me at once to my husband or face his wrath.” Inspiration flowed; the words just popped into my head.
Melwas’s smile widened, giving me a glimpse of his yellowed wolfish teeth, but the smile didn’t reach his cold pebble eyes. “I have no intention of returning you to that usurper.”
Icy fury rose in me. This was an insult not just to me but to Arthur, as well. I kept my voice steady. “My husband is your rightful king and overlord. And when he rescues me, you will suffer for your actions this day.”
“Your husband,” Melwas said, scorn etched into his voice, “is bastard born. The only trueborn son of King Uthyr is Cadwy, son of Queen Aelfled.”
“Untrue.” I lifted my chin. “Arthur’s mother was Queen to Uthyr, and you know it. You can say what you like, but you won’t make Arthur a bastard any more than you can make yourself an honest man.”
He showed his teeth again in a travesty of a grin. Not only were they yellow, but they were also crooked. He could have done with the attentions of an orthodontist as a child.
“I have no pretensions to being an honest man. Why would I? How many honest men rise to the heights I have?” He laughed, a hollow, false sound that rose to the smoke-veiled rafters above our heads. Then he took a step forward, bringing him close enough to bend his head and hiss his words into my ear. He smelled strongly of exotic perfume and stale sweat. “I’m king here because my brothers are dead,” he whispered. “My older brothers. Do you think they died natural deaths to pave my way to kingship? They did not. I killed the first when I was ten years old and he just thirteen. And I’m proud to own to it.”
I stared at him in horror, longing to step back but afraid to show weakness. He was so much worse than I’d imagined. I hadn’t liked the look of him when I’d first set eyes on him at the Council of Kings. He’d made me uneasy with his cold gaze and his narrow, sly face, but I’d considered him nothing more than an unpleasant man, the only one apart from Cadwy who’d not voted for Arthur to become Dux Britanniarum. Now, my skin crawled with revulsion.
My fingers tightened on my cloak, instinctively drawing it closer as though it might protect me. “What do you want with me?” I fought to keep the rising panic out of my voice. He was so close, the smell of his rank breath filled my nostrils.
He licked his thin, bloodless lips. “King Cadwy wants you for himself,” he said slowly. “It was his idea to place trustworthy warriors within that fool’s army who could wait until the perfect moment arose to snatch you.” He gestured at Kelwyn and Gorsedd who’d seated themselves on the trestle table near the fire. “But I’ve a mind to keep you for myself now I’ve seen you up close.” He picked up my heavy plait and fondled it with his long fingers. His nails were filthy. “Why should Cadwy get the joint benefits of the power you bring and a woman like you in his bed? I can have all that for myself.” Lust smoldered in his black eyes, and his tongue darted out to lick his lips.
