Page 16 of The Daughters of Avalon
Far too late… the storm inside her was already raging, dancing on a fateful wind, turning, whirling, gaining strength, like a maelstrom. Thankfully, none of this was notable to her sisters, because, at the instant it raged only inside Rhiannon.
“If anyone should ever see you do such things, not even the king’s mercy will stop them from condemning you! The only reason Ersinius puts up with us is because deep down he does not believe we are born to our grandmother’s sins.”
Merely because their grandmother had been withered by age and the sisters were too lovely to be evil—but hadn’t Morwen proven that to be a lie? In her youth, she had been far more beautiful than any of her daughters, but there was little doubt that she was the evilest witch to walk this earth than they had known in quite some time. “Only because he enjoys his gold,” Rhiannon said.
“If I had my guess, he would sooner see us burn,” argued Seren as she continued picking through the tinder, gathering the best pieces.
It was the wrong thing to say. Rhiannon’s fury grew hotter, and the fire below the cauldron burned brighter, hotter. Alas, they had not been allowed to leave since Elspeth was discovered missing, and nobody brought them anymore wood. If Rhiannon guessed correctly, this was not an oversight, for neither had they had anything to eat since early this morn. Once the envoy had arrived and Elspeth was summoned, chaos ensued and the four of them had been ushered into their prison hovel with permanent guards at their door.
With arms laden, Seren rushed back across the room to toss the kindling into the flames, at first piece by piece, and then she dumped them all at once as a knock sounded at the door. “Forsooth!” she exclaimed, peering over her shoulder and meeting Rhiannon’s gaze.
Rhiannon was not surprised.
“Who can it be?”
“Ersinius.”
Arwyn’s eyes widened. “Here?”
Rose asked, “Now?”
As long as they had ever known him, the chaplain had never once missed Vespers. His devotion to the church—at least as it could be measured by others—was unshakeable. Of course, after the envoy’s departure, a visit from him was inevitable, but her sisters had not expected to see him again this evening. Rhiannon lifted her hand, bidding Arwyn and Rose to remain seated as she moved to the door. In the meantime, Seren rushed to grab another armful of kindling to prop up the fire as best she could before Ersinius could see it was mostly bare.
Giving her sister time to put down her handful, Rhiannon unlocked the door, and no sooner had she removed the bar, when the door flew wide, revealing the florid face of their illustrious chaplain. “Father,” Rhiannon said quietly.
Undaunted—at least by Rhiannon, although he should have been petrified—Ersinius shoved open the door and marched into their meager home. “I have come to inform that your mother’s arrival is imminent.”
“But, of course,” Rhiannon said silkily. Her sisters might be cowed by the man’s temper, but she refused to be bullied.
Because she had such a pure heart, Elspeth always believed Ersinius crossed himself for fear of their bloodline; Rhiannon knew better. He crossed himself because he coveted them—all five sisters together. And he loathed himself for the weakness of his flesh. How he longed to punish them for the temptation they offered. And yet, it was his greatest displeasure to have to share his holy house with those less worthy. He despised the fact that he had served Henry’s pious wife, only to become no more than a warden to five profane little girls. Regardless of whether they were in fact born to their grandmother’s ‘evil ways,’ he would have preferred to hand them over to be dealt with by the Pope—and more significantly, he’d have preferred to win admiration for his tireless crusade for the church. The chaplain glared at Rhiannon, warning her without words, and she readevery thought that crossed his oily brain. He was thinking how much he loathed them—merely because they had menses. And, furthermore, he was thinking how much he wished he’d caught them undressed… so that, later, he could pleasure himself to the image of them naked in a cluster, all writhing with their sweet, tender flesh over his fat, greasy body. For her sisters’ sakes, Rhiannon tried to be submissive, but failed miserably, smiling thinly.
“You will not find yourself quite so smug once you face her,” he warned Rhiannon. “And you have sorely disappointed your cousin.”
“He is notmycousin.”
Once again, all three sisters looked at Rhiannon, silently begging for her to calm her raging heart. But she was nothing like Elspeth. Filled with righteous fury, Rhiannon held her smile, and after an instant, the chaplain averted his gaze, uncomfortable with the affliction she’d been born with—her crossed eyes. “He is your father’s nephew, and therefore heisyour cousin, despite that you seem so disinclined to offer him the respect due him.”
Rhiannon shrugged, and, for her sisters’ sakes, she declined to say that, in fact, Stephen was no kin to her at all, even if he was to her sisters. Her father wasnotHenry Beauclerc and she had known this for most of her life. But she held her tongue, because she knew it would never serve her to reveal the truth to anyone who held her fate in their hands—not even her sisters. Let them all think her father was the same man who’d fathered Elspeth, Seren, Arwyn and Rose.
The chaplain’s face was purple with rage. “From this moment on,” he continued, “until such time as your mother arrives, you will not be allowed to garden. In fact, you will not be allowed outside your cottage at all.Ever.You will take your meals in this room. Ungrateful brats!”
Seren blinked. “So… you mean to keep us prisoners?” she asked.
Besides their companionship, the only one thing that had kept them sane throughout these long years was their ability to garden—and to be outdoors.
“We havealwaysbeen prisoners,” Rhiannon argued, and the chaplain continued to address her sisters, ignoring Rhiannon as best he could.
“Your mother will determine what best to do with the lot of you, though I suspect your days at Llanthony are numbered—thank God!”
Yes, do thank God,said Rhiannon without speaking, and he turned his gaze partway to peer at her out of the corner of one eye. And then, with a shudder, he glanced away, casting his gaze at the hearth, and there he narrowed his gaze. He spun to examine the wood pile by the door, and, finally, as he must have longed to do from the instant he stepped into their hovel, he crossed himself, only this time, Rhiannon felt inordinately pleased for the startle he must have felt to find their fire burning strong, with so little wood. What skinny bits Seren had placed beneath the cauldron had already burned away to ash, and still the flames burned strong—as strong as Rhiannon’s rage.
Only, now, before they left his priory, she wanted Ersinius to know: Aye, she and her sisters bore the blood of the Great Goddess. And they were also descended of the fair-faced druids who’d settled the Sunken Isle, long before Wales was Wales or England was a thought in the minds of men.
At long last, Seren shook herself free of her stupor, rushing forward to settle a hand on the chaplain’s arm, placating him. “We are humbled by your presence, Holy Father, and we are sorry for any trouble we may have caused.”
“As you should be,” Ersinius berated her. He cast a glance at Rose and Arwyn, neither of which had yet to speak a word. “Alas, there’s little I can do for you now.”
“Of course,” said Seren. “We humbly await our just deserts.”
