Christina Phillips - [Forbidden 02] (18 page)

Bren sat in the corner of the hot room as steam hissed up from the floor and obscured the other inhabitants. During exercising he’d overheard some interesting, if ultimately unbelievable, speculation regarding the Tribunus’s wife. And while abandoning his dignity in the cold room he’d been privy to disgruntled Roman landowners complaining about the ingratitude of the Britons they’d displaced.

They showed no interest in the upheavals in the West. They were, for the most part, veterans, who desired nothing more than to live out the rest of their days in comfort, secure in the arrogant assumption the local populace would never dare rise up against them.

Eyes half-closed, he gave the impression of uninterest and boredom, while his brain processed and filed every snippet of conversation. There was no telling when an apparent insignificant word could prove vital upon reflection.

Everything could be used against the enemy.

Seated on the bench, Morwyn steeped her special herbs and roots in the hot water Branwen had procured. It wasn’t ideal but would suffice for her purposes. She glanced up at Carys, who was watching her with a serene expression on her face. An expression she’d seen countless times on the faces of those carrying the child of the man they loved.

She’d not expected to see it on Carys. Before the invasion, neither of them had craved motherhood. Carys because she hadn’t been interested in taking a lover, and Morwyn because the thought of choosing a man for such honor didn’t appeal.

Carys sighed faintly and shifted position on the stone bench, as if uncomfortable. “How is my mother? Is she still on Mon?”

“Yes. And she’s very well, although misses you greatly.” She was also one of the senior Druids who waited for irrefutable proof of Caratacus’s position before leaving the Isle. A chill shivered through her soul. Should she tell Carys? Or would she betray such confidence to her husband?

“I dearly wish she was here with me.” Carys caressed her belly as if unaware of her action. “There’s always darkness in my mind whenever I think of Mon. I’m so happy you’re here now, Morwyn.”

A trickle of unease shivered over Morwyn’s arms. Yes, she was here. But she didn’t intend to stay. And she had never intended to return to Cymru without Carys.

But that was before she’d discovered Carys’s pregnancy. Before she’d been reminded, so forcefully, of the depth of the love Carys possessed for her Roman husband.

“Why?” Her voice was sharper than she intended. “Is life so peaceful here? Does the call for freedom no longer touch Camulodunum?” She deliberately used the Roman name for the ancient Briton settlement, but experienced no sense of victory when Carys’s eyes filled with pain.

“Peaceful?” Despite the vulnerability in her eyes, Carys’s voice was scathing. “When the Romans drove the Britons off their land, and then used them as slaves to build their heathen temples?” She waved her hand in the direction of the temple adjacent to the forum. “Don’t be naive. We may never see peace in our lifetime.”

Morwyn stared at her, shock punching through her gut. This sounded like the Carys she knew, the Carys who had loathed the invaders and wanted nothing more than to drive them from her beloved land.

She leaned close, brushed her lips against the other woman’s ear. “Whose side are you on?”

Carys’s breath gusted against Morwyn’s cheek. “I never betrayed our people. I never will.” She pulled back and caught Morwyn’s eyes in an unflinching gaze. “I’ll never betray my husband, either.”

Frustration clawed through her chest. “How can you not betray one or the other? When you decry Rome, you betray your husband. When you put his culture above ours, you betray your heritage.”

Carys gave an odd smile, as if she understood Morwyn’s accusation but at the same time pitied her for having uttered it. “Maximus knows my feelings and opinions. There’re no secrets between us, Morwyn. He respects my heritage and, although I hate how his people conquered our lands, I’ve grown to respect certain aspects of his.”

Blasphemy
. The word thundered through her mind. There was nothing to respect in the Roman way.

“So you tell your husband everything?” Just as well Morwyn hadn’t revealed her plans for joining Caratacus, or that Carys’s own mother planned on joining the rebels.

Carys’s smile wavered and she finally broke eye contact. “Yes.” But she was staring at her fingers as they twisted the fabric of her foreign gown.

“You never were a good liar.”

Carys shook her head and looked up. “I know what you’re thinking and you’re wrong. The only secret I keep from Maximus is the knowledge that could send him to his death should he ever learn of it.”

That, she hadn’t expected. “What do you mean?”

Carys sighed and spread her fingers across her thighs. “Do you remember the vision I told you of? Before Aeron lost his mind and murdered Druantia?”

“Yes.” She remembered, because she’d been horrified at the thought of Carys taking the sacred root and entering the gods’ domain without human anchor in the mortal realm.

“I saw . . . many things.” Carys hesitated, as if reconsidering her decision to confide. “This isn’t over yet, Morwyn. Britain will burn, and I’ll do everything in my power to ensure Maximus is in Rome before that happens.”

“And if you told him, he would insist on fighting.” It wasn’t a question. She knew, in some measure, how Carys’s mind worked. “When is this great burning? Soon?” Had Carys foreseen Caratacus’s victory? But if so, why hadn’t she ensured her husband was already at sea?

Carys clenched her fists. “I don’t know. But I trust Cerridwen will give me enough warning to save my kin.”

Did Carys still worship Cerridwen?

“You’d run, rather than fight?” Condemnation dripped from every word and Carys shot her a piercing look before she straightened her relaxed posture.

“Maximus would never run, and that’s why I will never tell him. If we die in a bloody battle here, who will carry the flame of knowledge into the future, Morwyn?” Carys leaned forward, her eyes glittering with iron purpose. “Cerridwen can’t be allowed to fade into the mists of time. She must survive.”

Shivers scuttled over her arms at the intensity of Carys’s declaration. “I thought you’d turned your back on the gods.” The words tumbled from her lips, unbidden, immediately regretted, because of course Carys hadn’t turned her back on Cerridwen. She would never turn her back on the goddess who had chosen her at the moment of her birth.

Carys frowned and confusion flickered over her face, as if that was the last thing she’d expected Morwyn to say.

“The Morrigan is the only goddess who ever turned from me.” And then her face lit up and she clasped Morwyn’s hand. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Because of the Morrigan.”

Blood heated Morwyn’s face and she attempted to free her hand without success. She’d been so sure Carys had abandoned their gods. Been secretly craving the chance to discuss how confused she was by her lack of faith. But it had been nothing more than wishful thinking on her part.

“No. It’s nothing to do with the Morrigan.”

Carys let out a clearly contented sigh. “The Morrigan saw the light, didn’t she? She realized Cerridwen’s way is the only way to continue onward.”

When all the Morrigan demanded was her children hide on the Isle of Mon? Huddle in sacred groves and give sacrifice that they were still alive? While their people remained enslaved to the invaders?

“No, Carys.” Her voice was harsh. “I no longer believe in our gods. Do you understand? I despise them for allowing Aeron to control them so—so
utterly
.”

Silence shivered in the air between them. Even the incessant noise from the market faded. For a moment she wondered if her lifelong friend would turn from her for her sacrilege, but then Carys took her hand as if she imagined comfort was required.

“He didn’t control them.” Her voice was gentle, as if she somehow understood, but how could she understand? She had left Cymru that night. She hadn’t fled to the Isle of Mon and continued to hide from the enemy behind sacrifice and prayer. Carys had gone with her lover and faced the world to live among their enemies.

“Morwyn.” Carys gave her hand a shake to drag her back to the present. “Aeron manipulated the gods, just as he manipulated all of us.”

“True gods would never allow themselves to be so manipulated.” She snatched her hand from Carys and clenched her fists against her thighs. “
True
gods would never have spewed their wrath on their people the way they did that night.” She glared at Carys, but in her mind all she saw was that dark night in the forest, the unholy wind that had ripped trees from their roots, and the eerie fires that had sprung up as the earth herself had howled in fury.

“They were angry at being deceived.” But now Carys didn’t sound so sure, as if deep in her heart she acknowledged Morwyn was right.

Morwyn gave a bitter laugh. “They were angry at the innocent. And all the Morrigan cared about was ensuring her faithful Druids escaped to the sacred Isle. So we continue to worship her, far from the putrid stench of the Roman invasion.”

“Maybe the Morrigan needed time to—to assess what had happened.” Carys sounded as if she was trying to convince herself as much as Morwyn. “And she came to realize the only way to survive is to continue to teach our people everything we know.”

“Hidden on an Isle where only Druids are welcomed?”

“No.” Carys frowned, as if trying to work something out. “Why would you have left Mon, unless the Morrigan wanted you to?”

Because she had intended to join the rebels. She couldn’t tell Carys that.

“I no longer worship her.” She sucked in a deep breath, couldn’t maintain eye contact. “I’ve turned from her, Carys. She’s not my goddess. I pushed her away and closed my soul to her.” She risked shooting the other woman a glance, but Carys appeared thunderstruck. “It’s been many moons since she came to me. She no longer exists in my heart.”

“But you’re here.” Carys sounded as if that explained everything. “Why would you be here, unless the Morrigan had guided you?”

Morwyn let out an exasperated breath and glared at Carys. “Because I wanted to avenge Gawain’s murder, that’s why! It has nothing to do with the
Morrigan
.”

Carys’s eyes widened and she grabbed Morwyn’s arm, fingers digging into her flesh. “Gawain’s dead? Sweet Cerridwen, no. He can’t be dead. How? What happened?”

Morwyn didn’t want to talk about his murder. Didn’t want to relive that paralyzing sense of helplessness as his lifeblood pumped from his body.

But the overwhelming need to share the horror was too great.

“He was betrayed. Stabbed in the back by one of our own.” A shudder raked through her bones. “As we fought the enemy.”

Carys wrapped her arms around her, hugged her tight. “I’m so sorry. Morwyn. I loved Gawain as a brother. This is—I can’t—who was it? Who killed him?”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t see his face. Couldn’t get to him, Carys. I can never
get
to him.”

Slowly Carys pulled back. “You can never get to him?”

The nightmare pounded through her mind, as vivid as if she watched events unfold before her eyes. “He never hears my warning. And the dead keep on piling up around my feet.”

Carys slid her hands down Morwyn’s arms and held her chilled fingers in a firm grip.

“Where did this happen?”

Frustration ripped through her. “I don’t
know
.”

“But you were there?”

“Yes. I’m always there, but too far away to save him.”

All she could hear was her heart pounding in her ears. All she could see was Gawain falling to the bloodied ground. And all she could smell was the acrid stink of battle.

“Morwyn.” Carys’s voice was gentle, but unrelenting. “Gawain could still be alive.”

Too late she realized where Carys was leading with her questions. “No. He’s dead. I can feel it, here in my heart.”

“You weren’t there. You didn’t watch him die. The Morrigan hasn’t abandoned you, Morwyn.”

For the third time Morwyn snatched her hands from Carys, and this time leaped to her feet in order to glare down at her friend. “This isn’t a vision. I don’t have visions anymore.”
They were nightmares
. And the certainty Gawain had died came from the bond they had once shared.
Nothing else
. “Do you hear me? Gawain is dead.” And it was all her fault. He may never have left Mon if she hadn’t severed their relationship.

And yet even as the thought tortured her, she knew it was untrue. Gawain had wanted to leave Mon from the moment they had arrived.

Carys stood, and, despite her foreign gown and pregnancy, she had never looked more like a proud Druid princess. “I believe you’re wrong. You have to embrace the Morrigan again, Morwyn. You have to find out what she’s trying to tell you.”