Rise of the Pendragon (Islands in the Mist Book 3) Page 43

  Gareth smiled. He had never won an arm wrestle against his father in his life, except when he had been little and his father would let him win. “Arhianna says he’s gone to see Uthyr?”

  “No, to make arrangements to see Uthyr,” his mother corrected, wagging a finger. “A person can’t just go see the Pendragon whenever he likes. Not even your father.”

  Gareth nodded. He knew how many men sought an audience with the king. “Well, he won’t be seeing him tonight. Uthyr’s going to execute Octa and Eosa, and, from what I hear, it won’t be over quickly.”

  His mother grimaced. “Ugh. I’ll not be there for that.”

  Gareth felt anxious. I have to find a way to speak to Father before he sees Uthyr. Jørren was still among the Saxon prisoners, and he very much doubted Uthyr planned to keep any of them alive for long.

  ***

  Word of the executions planned at sundown spread through the city like a brush fire in the height of summer. So many people crowded into the city center, it took Uthyr some time to ride through the streets to the raised platform that had been built for him. He stood tall and looked out over the thousands of faces before him. His heart filled with pride. There was so much he wished to say to them. Don’t give in. Don’t turn away. Don’t let them take what belonged to your ancestors and now belongs to your children, but he would not be heard. Instead, he hoisted his sword in the air. Cheering rumbled through his body like thunder, sending chills through his limbs. He looked skyward, offering a prayer of gratitude to God in honor of his brother. Victory and justice, Emrys, at last.

  He took a deep breath and gave the signal. The crowd hushed and turned, wondering which direction the condemned would come from. Only Uthyr knew, for he alone could see the ocean of bodies parting as the captives were pushed forward.

  Of the two, most considered the capture of Octa to be Uthyr’s greatest coup, but it was Eosa whom he coveted—Eosa, the worm who had posed as the monk who attended his brother’s sickbed, earned his trust and then poisoned him. Treacherous snake. He will die the slowest.

  Uthyr studied them as they approached. They were no longer the fierce warriors he and his men had faced on the battlefield. Now, they were nothing, scarcely able to drag their chains, cowering like women to protect their faces from the rocks being thrown at them. He was certain the journey through the crowd would have killed them if his demands had not been so specific. They are to arrive in front of me alive.

  From that moment on, things happened exactly as Uthyr had imagined they would unfold, as if they had been ordained. His enemies fell to their knees in front of him, bloody and broken. They begged for their lives but he did not speak to them. He looked out over his people and raised his arms. The crowd fell silent, craning necks and shushing children.

  “Before you, good people, are the Saxon chieftains, Octa and Eosa, the last surviving sons of our terrible enemy, Hengist. They have traveled hundreds of miles on foot to grant you the privilege of watching them die.” Uthyr hoisted his sword in the air again. The crowd cheered, their lips curling into bloodthirsty smiles while they punched invisible foes in the air with clenched fists. “And die they shall, in a manner equal to the treachery and dishonor they showed your noble king, Emrys, who granted them mercy!” Uthyr sheathed his sword, grabbed his captives by the hair, yanked their heads back and looked them in the eyes. “Know this, and know it well—I am not my brother.”

  ***

  The women stayed behind, but Gareth and his father went to watch the executions. Octa and Eosa were stripped, tied to war chariots and dragged through the city streets. Their flesh soon hung off their broken bones, yet, still, the crowd’s bloodlust called out for more.

  Gareth stole glances of this father, still struggling with how fatigued he looked. He had been so shocked by the change in his appearance since he had last seen him that he had taken his mother aside and asked if he had been ill. She had tried to make light of it. “His heart bothers him, that’s all.” Gareth knew from her manner there was something she was keeping from him. She, like Arhianna, was a terrible liar. I’ll press her later for answers.

  His father patted him on the back a few times, bringing him out of his thoughts. “Arawn’s waiting. Their suffering is almost over.”

  Gareth ignored his comment, offended by the suggestion that he found the scene too gruesome to look upon. He shook it off. “Father, I need to tell you something.”

  “What is it?”

  “I’ll be direct. Jørren is among the Saxon captives.”

  His father turned and looked at him, his brows knit. “Jørren’s here?”

  “Yes. And he didn’t do what Arhianna thought he did. I’m sure she’ll forgive him once she hears what he has to say, but I dare not tell her he’s alive if we can do nothing to save him.”

  Bran looked up at the sky. “Dear gods.” He put his face in his hand and groaned. “Great Mother, will it never end?” He looked back at Gareth. “Are you certain she’ll take him back?”

  “Well, perhaps not, Father, but she certainly wouldn’t want this for him!” Gareth motioned with disgust at the horror they had just witnessed. “We can’t let this happen to him.”

  His father nodded. “You’re right, you’re right. Of course not. I’ll do what I can.”

  ***

  “He’s who?” Uthyr demanded, his brows forming a dark crease between his eyes.

  Bran took a deep breath. “The earl of the clan that captured my children in the raid on Gwythno.”

  Uthyr smiled. “What are the chances?”

  “Indeed.” Bran felt the same sentiment. “I would be grateful if you would allow me to take him into my custody.” He did not tell Uthyr why he wanted Jørren and prayed Uthyr would not ask. He would not lie to his king. To his relief, Uthyr nodded almost immediately.

  “Of course, you shall have him. I’m pleased there’s something I can do to repay your loyalty. What’s his name, again?”

  “Jørren. Gareth knows what he looks like.”

  “Then send Gareth to the dungeons. He can help my guards identify the bastard. We’ll find your earl and have him brought to you on the last night of the games. I’m certain you won’t be leaving until after the tournaments, correct?” Uthyr winked. “I expect your son will be making a name for himself.”

  Bran smiled. “Of course not. We’ll be staying. Thank you, Pendragon. I’ll not take up any more of your time. Seems a thousand men are waiting to speak to you.”

  Uthyr looked exhausted. “There are. Perhaps more. Farewell, friend.”

  “Farewell, Pendragon.” Bran turned and left the hall with a heavy heart. Though he had not lied to his king, he had deceived him. Gods, Arhianna. I hope you still love this man.

  ***

  It had been over a year since Igerna’s wedding to Gorlois. Igerna had recently given birth to a daughter, and Arhianna longed to see them both. She went in search of her brother and found him in the stable. “Gareth, do you know where Gorlois’ tent is?”

  “Yes. It’s on the other side of the camp.”

  “Will you escort me there? I wish to see Igerna.”

  “Of course. When do you wish to go?”

  “Now.”

  Gareth smiled. “Of course you do. I’ll get some horses ready.”

  Arhianna grabbed his face and kissed it. “Thank you.” She went and packed up the gifts she had brought for her friend, changed her dress and fixed her hair.

  Gareth soon returned with two horses. He had brought a mare for her and handed her the reins. “Ready?”

  Arhianna smiled. “Yes, ready.” She swung herself up into the saddle. Gareth took her satchel for her and mounted his horse. “Let’s go.”

  She rode behind Gareth, taking in all the colorful sights and activity. She had longed to explore the camp since they had arrived, but knew it would have been imprudent without an escort. Now, she had the best escort she could have hoped for. She had missed him, like always, whenever they were not together. She ha
d felt that way since they were children; no matter where she was, who she was with, or for how long, she always felt his absence. He was a part of her, and she of him.

  “Gareth, do you remember when we rode out to King’s Tor and got stuck in that awful thunderstorm?” They had been ten years old at the time, forbidden to ride out beyond the valley.

  Gareth laughed and shook his head. “Oh, gods. I thought Father was going to kill us.”

  “Why was Taliesin not with us?” She could not remember.

  “He was in Gwythno.”

  She felt a pang of sorrow in her stomach. “I hope nothing’s happened to him.” Without warning, an image of Taliesin’s face came upon her so forcefully it caused her to gasp. Then, as quickly as it had come, it disappeared. She clutched at her racing heart.

  Gareth rode closer and took her arm. “You’re not going to fall off that horse, are you? What’s wrong?”

  Arhianna took a deep breath to calm herself. Since she had awoken from her long sleep, as her mother liked to call it, strong and sometimes disturbing images like the one she had just experienced had come to her. At first, they came only in her dreams—when she dared to sleep, of course. She wrestled frequently with surges of panic brought on by fear of slipping back into the darkness she had escaped. She often went several nights in a row without sleep until she became so tired she could no longer fight it. Am I to have these dreams while I’m awake, now, as well?

  She clutched her reins and collected herself, shutting out the chaos of the camp around them. “I’m fine, now.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She smiled, shaking it off. “Yes.” They rode on, more slowly this time. “Do you really believe he just woke up and left in the middle of the night?”

  Gareth sighed and shook his head. “That’s what I want to believe—that when we go home he’ll be waiting for us in the grove or something like that. But no, I don’t.”

  “Me neither.”

  They rode in silence awhile, concern weighing down their tongues.

  “Arhianna, have you remembered anything at all about what happened to the two of you?”

  “Great Mother knows I’ve tried. I just can’t bloody remember anything. Nothing that helps, anyway.” She had labored to piece together memories of all the events leading up to the point where she and Taliesin stood in front of the stones—but after that, she could remember nothing. Every time she reached that point, storm clouds gathered in her mind, intent on hiding whatever was there from her.

  “Well, when you first woke, Mother said you couldn’t remember anything at all. Now, at least you remember going to Eire. Give it some time.”

  “But what if we have no time? What if Taliesin’s in danger?” The one thing she had no desire to do was give anything “time.” Bloody hell, I was asleep for nearly a year.

  “I think Taliesin’s stronger than you’re giving him credit for,” Gareth counseled. “Although I agree there’s got to be more to the story, I don’t think it’s anything he can’t handle.” He pointed to a cluster of banners flying long and high in the air. “We’re here.”

  They rode up to the largest tent. There were several young women sitting together and embroidering what looked to be more banners under a large shade tree. Igerna sat among them. She was pulling a long gold thread through the piece of fabric laid across her lap. As if she sensed Arhianna’s presence, she looked up from her work and scanned the camp. Her eyes widened with surprise. She tossed her work aside and came to greet them. “Arhianna!”

  By the time Arhianna had dismounted, Igerna was waiting to embrace her. “I’m so happy you’ve come!” She lowered her voice and whispered, “I’ve been bored to death for three days.” It was obvious Gorlois had showered Igerna with gifts since their marriage, for more than one stunning gem glittered at her neck as well as from her fingers. She must have noticed Arhianna admiring them, because she said, “Gorlois gave me these the day Morgause was born.”

  Arhianna shook her head. “Great Mother, what do you suppose he’ll give you when you bear him a son?”

  Igerna smiled and then turned her eyes to Gareth. “And who is your handsome companion?”

  Arhianna laughed. “You don’t recognize him? It’s my brother, Gareth.” Arhianna noticed Gareth’s face was flushing beneath his beard, but that did not stop him from flashing her a confident smile. “A pleasure to see you again, Lady Igerna.”

  Igerna took a step back and put her hands on her hips as she looked him over. “Oh my. Are you married yet, Lord Gareth? The last I heard from your sister was that the women of Mynyth Aur were at each other’s throats over which of their daughters would earn the privilege.”

  Gareth laughed. “I’ve not heard that. I hope it isn’t true. I’ve been in the north, serving Uthyr.”

  “As a warrior, I assume?”

  “No,” Arhianna corrected, jumping in. “As a blacksmith. And not just any blacksmith. He was the Pendragon’s chief blacksmith, in charge of all the forgework for the garrison. Father’s so proud of him he never stops talking about it.”

  Igerna’s blue eyes widened. “Is that so?”

  “It is.” Gareth looked uncomfortable, so Arhianna took pity on him. “Thank you, brother. I know you need to get back and speak to Father.” She got up on her toes and kissed his cheek.

  “When shall I return for you?”

  Before Arhianna could answer, Igerna put a hand out to stop her. “Oh, please don’t go—stay here with me and my handmaidens during the games—Gorlois is very busy, so we’ll have our own tent. I’ll go to him if he asks for me but I don’t expect he will. He likes to drink late into the night at these sorts of festivities.” She came closer and mumbled, “Please, I beg you, stay.”

  Arhianna smiled, glancing over at the women who were prattling on about something that sounded very dry indeed. “Well, for a few nights, at least—but the opening banquet is tonight. I’ll need to go back to my camp to fetch my things.”

  “Oh, don’t bother your poor brother with taking you back and forth. Just wear something of mine—I’ve twice as many dresses as I need. We’ll get your things tomorrow.”

  Arhianna knew it was pointless to argue. “That’s generous of you. Gareth, will you let Mother and Father know I’ll be attending the banquet with Igerna?”

  “Of course.” Gareth gave them a nod, kissed Igerna’s hand in farewell and mounted his horse. “If our paths don’t cross again tonight, ladies, enjoy the festivities. I’ll leave you to get reacquainted.”

  “Thank you.” Arhianna and Igerna waved as Gareth mounted his horse and rode away.

  Igerna shook her head. “My, my, Arhianna—look what your brother’s done to my handmaidens. I think they’ve turned to stone!”

  Arhianna glanced over. All the girls had abandoned their embroidery to stare at him as he rode away. She giggled. She enjoyed the affect her brother had on women, only because he made no effort to impress them. “He’ll be competing in a few of the tournaments. I’m looking forward to seeing if those muscles of his are as useful as they look.”

  “Indeed.” She peeked over at her ladies again, who were now whispering and giggling. “Well, seems we’ll all have something to look forward to, then.” She winked. “Now, come and have some mead with me.”

  Arhianna followed her into a nearby tent. Thick carpets lined the floor, and iron stands in each corner held what looked to be a hundred candles. Igerna motioned to a pair of chairs and a small table set up at the foot of a bed piled high with furs and cushions. “Let’s sit over there.”

  “Gorlois certainly takes good care of you,” Arhianna remarked. “This is nicer than my bedchamber at home.”

  Igerna smiled. “He does. I told him I didn’t need all of this brought, but he insisted. I admit. I’m glad he did, now—it’s been my only escape.”

  One of Igerna’s handmaidens brought in a flask and two goblets and poured them both a drink. “Thank you. Will you also slice us some apples and bring some cakes?�
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  Once the girl had left, Igerna raised her goblet. “Let’s drink to friendship. I’m so glad we’re together again. It’s been too long.”

  “To friendship, then.” Arhianna smiled and they drank. “I’d also like to drink to your daughter. I was hoping to meet her but I don’t see a cradle anywhere. Please tell me you brought her.”

  Igerna shook her head. “Alas, no. I left her with my nursemaid at Gorlois request. He said the games were no place for babes and that he wanted me all to himself.”

  “I see.” Arhianna felt disappointed. “Careful, or you’ll have another babe on the way before the first is weaned.”

  “Oh, no.” Igerna leaned in close and whispered, “I’ve taken measures to ensure that won’t happen until I want it to. If you’re ever are in need of such knowledge, I have a midwife who can advise you of everything you need to know.”

  Arhianna laughed. “Thank you, but I’m certainly in no need of it now.”

  “Well, clearly that’s your own choice. If a woman as beautiful and charming as you wishes to be married, she can be married.” Igerna put a hand on her knee. “But as you aren’t, you must come and see the baby after the games. What do you think?”

  Arhianna had only seen Din Tagell once, for Igerna’s wedding, and she felt it would do her good. Her dreams had been haunting her more than usual, lately. Perhaps a change of scenery would help. “Yes, of course. It would be a shame to come this far south and return home without a visit.”

  “Good. You can travel back with me and we’ll send for whatever you need.”

  They spent the rest of the afternoon sipping mead and chatting, until one of the maids came in and announced it was growing late.

  “Ah. We can continue our conversation tonight, then.” Igerna stood up and began giving orders to her handmaidens. She insisted on giving Arhianna one of her finer gowns to wear, with jewels to match.