Queen of the Summer Stars (33 page)

A blindfold was dropped over my eyes, but I managed to spit on the bully in front of me before the cloth was jerked tight. Someone cuffed me in retaliation, landing a punch on my shoulder that wrenched it backward violently. Under the edge of the blindfold I could make out the boots of a man in front of me, and with a rage and strength I didn’t know I had, I brought my knee up hard and fast.

The howl of pain said my aim had been excellent.

“Vicious bitch,” snarled another, knocking me to the ground with a blow to the ribs and unbuckling his belt. “I’ll teach you to have some manners, I will.”

“Oh, no, you won’t!” The leader interceded as I lay gasping for breath amid stabbing fits of pain. “Maelgwn said unharmed. We’re to bring her to him in good form and fit condition.” A snigger of knowing laughter was abruptly cut off. “I intend to earn the price he offered, and I’ll lop off arm or ear or any other member of any man who comes too close to M’lady here. Is that clear?”

There was a shuffling of feet, and then I was being wrapped in some kind of rug, like a caterpillar in a cocoon. With a bit of tugging they got me hoisted over the back of a horse, my head hanging down on one side, my legs on the other. Between the stifling confines of the rug and the pounding in my head and ears, it was a struggle just to breathe, much less keep track of where we might be going.

Time, which had slowed so noticeably during the battle, now collapsed entirely. There was no way to know how long the journey lasted. On the one hand I was glad we traveled at no more than a rapid walk; a trot would have been torture in that position. But it meant the trip took that much longer, and time ceased to have any measurement.

At first I prayed to every God I could think of, but when I had exhausted all divine possibilities my mind moved to other things: whether Griflet had been killed, how long it would take for Uwain to round up a search party, and if anyone else had recognized Maelgwn’s badge on the ruffians.

It seemed a senseless thing for my cousin to do. Perhaps he planned to hold me for ransom or call on the old tradition that he who gains the Queen gains the kingdom. I didn’t think that likely, for the people loved Arthur, and it was doubtful that they would accept Maelgwn in his stead.

There were no stops for food or camp or comfort, just endless journeying to my unknown destiny. Whether I slept or fainted, I couldn’t tell, but I came awake thirsty and aching. My anger had long since evaporated, and caution began to take its place as I tried to weigh what options lay ahead. It was clear that I could not gain my freedom by either regal command or sheer physical strength. Whatever was going to happen, I’d have to keep my wits about me.

Our route lay well away from the bustle of town or Court, and we encountered no one else along the way. Eventually there was a pause and some sort of exchange, then the horses’ hooves drummed hollowly on something wooden.

“Got a carpet for His Highness,” the leader called out as our party came to a stop. “I’ll deliver it in person.”

Slung over the ruffian’s shoulder, I was taken to an inner chamber and dumped, none too gently, on the floor. Cold air flowed over my skin as the rug was untied, and the glow of a lantern stabbed painfully against my eyes after the long darkness. I kept my lids slitted against its glare and tried to assess my situation before admitting I was conscious.

“She’s all right, ain’t she?” a woman queried. “Your life won’t be worth much if she’s been hurt.”

“Of course she’s not hurt,” the ruffian grunted. “Ask her yourself; she’ll tell you we didn’t do her no harm. All she needs is cleaning up.”

He grabbed my shoulder and shook me roughly, and I groaned aloud with the pain as my eyes flew open.

“There—what did I tell you?” he announced.

It was the first time I’d had a chance to see his face clearly, with the long scar that ran down and across his cheek. Many men have such marks, but I remembered the description of the man who had put poison in the goblet at Caerleon. I studied him carefully, thinking I’d do well to commit his face to memory.

“I’ll be going,” he muttered, straightening up quickly. “Tell the King to send the gold to my apartment tonight.”

The matron nodded, and when he was through the door she carefully slid the bolt on a Roman lock before turning to face me.

“Let’s have a look at Arthur’s uppity Queen,” she sneered, reaching out toward the tangled mop of hair that surrounded my face. Her hands were callused and rough, more used to manual labor than needlecraft in a Queen’s chambers, and I guessed that she might even be unknown to the rest of the Court.

“Please, Mother,” I begged, catching her hand in my own and giving her the best title of respect I could think of, “where am I?”

“You don’t know?” She paused to stare at me more closely. I prayed she’d find something in my countenance that would move her to pity, but instead she let out a mirthless laugh. “Let’s just call it His Highness’s love nest,” she smirked.

“Maelgwn?” I took the comb from her hands and attempted to unsnarl my hair myself.

“Of course Maelgwn. Who else would it be?”

I nodded, anger at the confirmation of my suspicions bringing a hundred tart words to mind.

The crone was pouring water into a basin and began squeezing a fresh sponge in it. Obviously my prison had been furnished with an eye to comfort and class.

“Does he plan to hold me a political hostage or ask for ransom?” I had to fight to keep my voice even.

“That’s between you and His Highness, I’m sure.” The woman’s tone was prim as she discarded my filthy dress. Insisting that I get into a tin tub, she set about bathing my shoulders. The water was only tepid, but I suspected half my shivering came from renewed rage.

When I’d been thoroughly scrubbed down and rubbed with scented lotions, the matron brought forth a blue gown and held it up for my approval. “Silk, it is,” she averred, turning it this way and that so the fabric gleamed in the lamplight. “Not even the High King’s wife gets a chance to wear silk every day.”

I was tempted to tell her I’d wear sackcloth if it would get me out of here, but caution bridled my tongue and I put on the garment without comment. A girdle of tapestry work was added, as well as a necklace of pearls. After she’d put a jeweled diadem on my head, my warden stepped back to admire her handiwork.

She pronounced it “right fine” and turned her attention to laying out a table and chairs by the brazier. A tray of cold food was arranged for my pleasure, and when I was seated before it she tidied up the rest of the room and began plumping the pillows of the bed.

I had no appetite, though it must have been days since I’d eaten. But I toyed with a drumstick and, under the guise of watching the woman work, scrutinized my prison.

The appointments of the chamber were sumptuous, with fresh rushes strewn about the floor and a foot-rug of thick fleece placed carefully beside the bed. The room was clearly furnished for pleasure, but it offered little or no obvious means of escape. The windows were narrow and had firmly bolted shutters across them. There was only the one door, and it was both solid and well set in a stout wooden jamb. Nor was there closet or anteroom in which to hide; an olivewood chest stood against one wall, but I suspected it was too small to be of much help. A brazier, gaming table, and chairs made up the rest of the furniture. And the bed.

I glanced hastily away from that, not willing to believe all this effort was meant to culminate between its sheets. Surely Maelgwn didn’t think I could be intimidated into bedding with him or bribed with fancy clothes and heady luxury.

Maybe it was all a ploy to throw me off balance; certainly the mixture of physical brutality one minute and elegant attention the next made little sense. After a bit I quit trying to sort it out and decided that two could play at such a game—quite possibly I could draw my opponent into revealing himself by using his own tactics.

“What are we waiting for?” I inquired of the matron, yawning slightly behind my hand as though thoroughly bored.

“Why, His Highness,” came the reply.

I rose and stared down into the coals of the brazier, then strolled slowly around the room while the woman cleared the table. “You’d think he’d have left me something to do.”

With a petulant sigh I drifted to the chest, idly lifting its lid. It was impossible to see how deep it was, or if it was empty, for there was a shallow tray on top that held a chess set and heavy, inlaid board.

On impulse I took the game and laid it out on the table by the brazier. Behind me I heard the woman put down the chest lid, but I willed myself not to turn around to see what else she was doing. In no way was I going to show I was disturbed by my captive status.

When the board was set up I settled back to wait, exhaustion tugging at the edge of my mind while the Fates spun out the future. Perhaps I even nodded a bit, for I jumped when a loud banging sent my jailer running to the door.

There was an exchange of passwords, and then the door swung open and the King of Gwynedd came into the room, the devil-dog Dormarth pacing at his side. It brought me fully awake and doubly alert.

I looked up slowly, languidly turning one of the chess pieces between my fingers. With a gracious nod of my head I acknowledged his presence, almost, but not quite, smiling.

***

“Good heavens, Cousin,” I greeted him archly, “whatever kept you so long?”

Maelgwn

Maelgwn stopped just inside the doorway, wary as a man who is moving into enemy territory, uncertain where the ambushes lie.

He had changed in the months since my father’s funeral; the self-assured fellow with whom I had traded barbs was hard-edged and taut now, his face drawn and eyes glittering. The black tunic he wore was trimmed with beaver, the embroidery on his belt was worked with golden thread, and he bore himself with an air of casual elegance. But the constant motion of his eyes from one spot to another betrayed his nervous tension. In contrast, the huge dog at his side was still, solid, and immobile. I wasn’t sure which I feared more.

“I hope you brought the wine flagon,” I said, gesturing for him to be seated. “The cellars of Gwynedd’s King are famous throughout the realm, and I’ve been looking forward to testing their reputation.”

Conceit and self-satisfaction can leave a person vulnerable, so I counted on flattery and the fact that he was probably unaware of how little I care for wine. “Perhaps,” I added, dragging my memory for a name from Cei’s inventory, “you have one of those pleasant whites from der Pfalz?”

“Not with me.” My cousin remained by the threshold—at least the man had enough respect for me to be cautious. “If I’d known it would please you, I’d have had it set by. I’ll personally pick out a bottle for tomorrow night.” The shadow of a smile played around his mouth, though the eyes stayed cold and calculating.

“The wine’s of no great importance.” I shrugged and looked down at the board, cursing the fact that I wouldn’t be able to get him drunk.

Maelgwn dismissed the matron and made some final arrangement with the guard before closing the door and replacing the lock. I tried not to flinch at the sound.

“That’s a marvelous dog, by the way…and not a breed I’ve seen before.” I eyed the animal with what I hoped looked like admiration. Its short, sleek coat was shiny black, its build muscular and lean—and I judged that if it stood on its hind legs, it would be as tall as any man. It regarded me in return, its eyes red and glowing, and I was the one who blinked and looked away.

My cousin smiled and motioning Dormarth to lie down in front of the door, crossed the room to the table where I sat. He did not, however, say anything.

“I’ve heard you have a fabulous menagerie,” I went on, praying I didn’t sound like a babbling fool. “They say it’s quite remarkable—that you have peacocks and monkeys, and even a leopard.”

With a laugh Maelgwn seated himself, obviously pleased that his reputation for collecting exotic things was so widespread.

“Not quite a leopard,” he said deprecatingly. “It was a cheetah ordered from an Egyptian circus owner in Cairo when it was a kit. But the ship foundered just before making harbor at Degannwy, and the animal was lost.”

I was surprised he’d not heard of Palug’s sons and the spotted cat they’d rescued on the shore of Anglesey but decided not to ask about it; if his subjects chose to withhold news from him, I saw no reason to tell him myself.

“Which color do you wish to play?” He leaned casually over the chessboard and picked up a pawn, at the same time trying to see down the front of my dress. I looked away hastily lest revulsion show too plainly on my face.

“Why don’t I take white?” was the best I could manage.

So I played the opening gambit and for the next little while we each concentrated on the game—it mirrored life too closely to be ignored. When I managed to evade an elaborate trap we both sat back, and I heaved a sigh.

“Maybe there’s other activities that would entertain you more?” he asked, grasping my hand before I had a chance to tuck it in my lap.

I looked up to find him staring directly at me. He began stroking my palm and when I closed my fist into a ball, he insinuated his forefinger into the tunnel of my curled fingers, moving it in and out methodically.