The Beast of Caer Baddan (79 page)

“Queen Severa,” Leola replied.

What could you possibly have to say say to me, now!

She was far to irritated to r
ise to her feet or greet the queen, or even to gife her an acknowledging glance.

“I spoke with my brother, King Irael,” Queen Severa said. “Prince Owain is going to declare a divorce. He shall not return here to Baddan.”

Really!

Perhaps that was a bit less humiliating then being denied, but divorces were supposed to but
mutual, and Owain had not bothered to ask her. Or maybe he had tried to the night before. Leola was unsure.

“I wanted you to know that we are sorry that it has happened like this,” the queen continued.

At once, Leola found her tongue to speak but still did not bother to look at her adversary.

“Are you?” she asked. “Did you not try to convince the king to hide me away? And quietly accuse me of lying about my children's parentage?”

For Leola was convinced that Queen Severa had not believed Owain to be the father of her babies.

“I confess, I doubted your integrity,” Queen Severa replied.

Somehow, Leola was certain this was a huge penance for the proud woman but was still unimpressed by it. The queen had ridiculed her and now could not even offer her an apology. Why should Leola act as if it had not happened?

“Leola,” Queen Severa said. “I wanted you to know that your sons are Andoco-”

“I have known that since before their birth,” Leola replied.

Leola could tell that Queen Severa was frustrated and embarrassed by the dialogue and was secretly glad.

“And that the Andoco take care of their own,” the queen continued.

But of course the Andoco would care for them! All of the Andoco
except their own father!

What a silly notion that was.
Ridiculous, absurd, and probably true.

“You need not be afraid-” the queen's odious voice went on.

Leola had heard enough.

She came to her feet and pushed her breakfast tray away. Then she took up the shawl that Gytha had laid out for her, draped it about her shoulders, and arranged her hair long hair over it.

With neither a word nor a nod of acknowledgement, Leola strode passed the queen and walked out the door.

She did not care about half repentant words or patronizing tones. This was still her home, and she did not have to listen to the superiority of Owain's aunt.

Chapter Sixty Four: The Circle of Kings

The late morning found Leola at the sitting room window, staring out into the courtyard. Her sorrowful eyes watched Owain speaking to the Captain of the Guard at the steps of the castle.

King Irael, King Gourthigern, and Queen Severa had left for the Capital half an hour before, and now Owain would follow them.

As Leola looked on Owain, she knew that he must be dressed in his best armor, his gold chain, and a wool brat of six colors that was wrapped around him and fastened at the shoulder. A long red cape draped from his shoulders, and his conical helmet, decorated with carved spirals, was tucked under his arm. He wore no paint on his face, but had his weapons belt around him with both his short sword and his longsword, the famous Calybs. He was altogether the perfect image of a powerful prince.

Leola watched as the servants brought out a slender chariot drawn by a large war pony. He stepped on it and disappeared out the front gate.

“Owain Aetheling has gone to the City of Gloui,” she said, half to herself and half to Gytha who had walked in behind her.

“Yea, Leola,” Gytha replied. “I heard that it shall be a long meeting. I suspect he shall not return today.”

I suspect he shall not return at all
.

“I shall take the children out to the garden again today,” Leola said. “It is warm and pleasant.”

“Yea, Leola.”

Gytha curtsied and left the room, but when she had closed the door, Leola could no longer contain herself. Her breath became short and halted, and bitter tears fell down her cheeks. Her shaking knees failed below her, letting her fall into a heap on the floor. Her whole heart swelled in agony.

Oh, God, why? Why? Why? Why?

What she did not wish to admit, even to herself, was that she loved him. She loved him dearly, and now he was gone forever.

But sadness and despair were not emotions that she would allow to consume her.

Leola was a strong woman, and had built herself up to any challenge that she might face. She had withstood the illnesses and deaths of both of her parents and worked hard to keep her father’s land. She had managed to defend herself against the warrior Raynar. She had braved escaping from a Britisc camp and walked most of a day and night to Anlofton. She had stabbed a knight and a prince to death, birthed two children, and saved the younger one from a mysterious sickness.

I have my babies to think about now
.

Whatever happened, she would stand above it.

We are strongest when we are weak
.

Leola w
hipped the tears from her burning checks with a flick of her fingertip and stiffened her lip. She gathered her skirts up in her trembling hands, rising to her feet. One foot found its place before the other, allowing her to move forward. Her back stiffened, pulling her head up taller and letting her lungs fill with air. Breathing returned to normal. She dropped her shoulders back and smiled a calm, pleasant smile.

Suddenly, a strange sensation ran through her.

This is what it is really like to be a cwen, a queen. Beaten, and broken, and walking away with the head held high
.

The irony struck her.

Now when Owain should reject her, was when she actually felt that she was completely queen.

At least if Owain is gone to Gloui, I shall not have the agony of looking at him and knowing he is not mine
.

With that last thought, she sailed out of room.

Caer Gloui was ripe with activity. The people of the city filled the walls and leaned out of the windows to see the parade. Those of the countryside crowded the roads leading to the open gates. Children waved brightly colored flags baring the Red Dragon, the symbol of the island. Everyone was anxiously awaiting the Circle’s decision.

When Owain approached the city, the crowd rang out with cheers.

“Owain Finddu! Owain Finddu!” they cried.

“See how they love you?” Annon
said, when Owain reached the courtyard and dismounted.

“They need me,” Owain said, thinking out loud.

“That is true.” Annon said. “We all need you.”

Owain wondered how much of their eagerness to bestow this great honor on him was based on their own necessity.

“Who is here?” he asked.

“Prince Swale and Prince Britu are here already,” Annon replied, “as well as all of the kings.”

“That is good,” Owain said with a nod.

They went inside the palace and walked across the front hall towards the Hall of the Kings.

“Prince Owain!” rang a cheery voice.

Owain knew it belonged to Lady Gwawl. He had not seen her for a year and a half, ever since the feast her father King Coel had given him after their second victory over the invading Pictii. King Coel had sent her away to Venedotia that very night.

“Go on, Annon,” Owain said. “I shall be there in a moment.”

Annon went with a backwards glance at the lady, but Owain did not speak to her until the boy was through the great doors and out of sight.

“Gwawl ferch Coel,” Owain said.
“Gwawl daughter of Coel.”

When he turned around to face her, his steady eyes caught that first look of delight in her face that soon melted into surprise and disappointment as she gazed on him.

“You are...” she began.

“Scarred, Lady,” Owain said, with a pleasant smile.
“Ie, and they are permanent. No ointment or herb shall take them away.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, and he felt that she meant it. “They said that you were burned, but I did not realize that it... it...”

“Was this horrible?” Owain supplied. “Ie. It is.”

Lady Gwawl rubbed her hands together in what Owain guessed was a nervious gesture.

“Does it hurt?” she asked, hesitating.

“No, not the scars, although they do itch sometimes,” Owain said. “My back hurts, although there are no new scars on it.”

“That is horrible.”

“No, not at all,” Owain replied. “For I see myself now as I should.”

“That is a wise thought,” she said, impressed but uninterested. “My father would love you now.”

Owain remembered how the king had not approved of his daughter’s attentions towards Owain or of Owain’s scandalous reputation.

“I dare say he would, but that is now of no consequence,” he said. “We have both of us gone our separate ways, I believe.”

“Ie, we have. God keep you, Prince Owain.”

She went out to the garden then, and he was left with neither sadness nor regret.

“Dominae?” said a voice

Owain looked over to see the mayor of the city standing by the open doors, waiting for him.

“The Circle of Kings is assembled, Dominae,” the mayor said.

“Thank you,” Owain replied.

He allowed himself to be directed inside to the hall.

Accurately named a “circle,” the kings were gathered in a large circular room, with a high dome ceiling and wide pillars covered with intricate carvings. Their chairs were grouped around the decorative floor in the center.

Owain knew that the floor was the work of ancient times. The palace had been renovated by the many emperors who ruled in Albion at the end of Roman domination, but circular floor of that great hall was from the days of old long since, when it was an open arena surrounded by dense forest.

Owain took the seat of a guest to the far left of the circle, with the kings of the island spanning the rest of the huge room. He looked on them and recounted his memories, the treaties signed, the wars fought, the feasts celebrated.

Cynan King of Venedotia, elder king of the Circle, whom Owain had helped to defeat invading Eire.