The Broken World (10 page)

Sweat prickled on his forehead with the effort, but finally the inquisitor was confident enough to let out the breath he had been holding and relax his shoulders.

‘I was right to choose you all those years ago, Melyn
son of Arall. Few would have the strength of will to come so close to me.'

‘There's so much, lord. I can't begin to see it all.'

‘It will get easier with time. Use the dragon's magic if it helps. She can show you how to reach Tynhelyg swiftly, and how to hide your men so that even the Wolf himself will not know they are there. Go now, Melyn, and be my hammer.'

There were times, Beulah thought, when having a husband was a distinct inconvenience. Now, for instance, when she was anxious to leave Abervenn and get on the road to Tochers, he was nowhere to be found. None of the servants had seen him in the main halls of the castle, and the two warrior priests on guard duty outside her chambers had no idea where he was either. Bored waiting for him to reappear, she had dismissed the guards, deciding to go and look for him herself.

Abervenn was an unnecessarily large castle, spread over the whole top of the hill, perched above the harbour city like some great carrion bird picking at a rotten carcass. It seemed to have been a madness running through the ducal family that made its sons want to build and build, and then build some more. The result was a mess of styles awkwardly meshed together, linked by a confusing warren of corridors. One moment she might be treading thick new carpet and walking past a gallery of fine portraits, then a turn and Beulah found herself in a servant wing.

She had looked already in the main hall, where the new Duke of Abervenn had met his vassals and taken their
pledges of loyalty. A servant there had assured her that His Grace was not in the stables tending his horse, as he so often was since no one else could get anywhere near the beast. Neither was he in the exercise yard practising his swordsmanship. Frustrated but happier walking around than sitting with her increasingly large belly making her uncomfortable, Beulah headed for the West Tower, where Duke Angor's personal apartments had been and where his wife and daughter still lived.

Beulah had wanted to turn Dilyth and Anwyn out of the castle, stripped of their titles, and had been furious to find that they still had their old lodgings when she took up residence after the long voyage from Castell Glas. But Clun had persuaded her to let them stay, showing an understanding of diplomacy she would scarce have credited him with. Angor had been popular, but Dilyth was revered by the people, and her daughter too. Throwing them out of the castle would have been an open invitation for rebellion; instead of which Clun had charmed them, commiserated with them over the deaths of Angor and Merrl, and allowed them to retain much of their old life. He made a point of consulting them on matters concerning the running of the dukedom too, so it was possible he was even now paying them a visit.

But the audience chamber was empty, and the servants Beulah managed to find could not say where their new master was. So she climbed stairs and wandered corridors in solitude, staring at dark portraits, inspecting vast tapestries and occasionally gazing out of narrow windows. She had almost forgotten she was looking for her husband and was admiring a particularly fine pair of swords
hanging over an unlit fireplace in an empty hall when a sudden noise startled her.

Beulah couldn't quite make out what it was. At first she thought someone was torturing a cat, but as that seemed unlikely she went to investigate and found herself in another of the plain servants' corridors. Then the noise came again, closer this time, and she knew what it was. A newborn infant screaming its first to the world.

Much to her surprise Beulah found herself drawn to the noise. Some hitherto unknown desire to give succour to a child in distress urged her forward where before she would have ordered a servant to eliminate the noise instantly. Her own unborn baby decided to give her a hearty kick at that same moment, and for a while she could do nothing but lean against the wall, her hand clutching her stomach as she waited for the nausea to pass. It was as she was standing there that a servant girl came out through a door a dozen paces down the corridor.

‘What's going on in there? Whose child is that screaming?' Beulah moved towards the door, her head clearing with each stride. The girl saw her and nearly fainted. Then dropped to her knee in a deep curtsy.

‘Your Majesty! Beg forgiveness. You startled me. I never expected. Is there something I can do for you?'

‘There's no need to shout, girl. I'm not deaf.'

‘Sorry, ma'am.'

‘Never mind. I heard an infant crying.'

‘Yes, ma'am. One of the chambermaids just this moment delivered a fine baby boy.'

‘Show me.' Beulah still couldn't quite understand why she was interested. She had made it her business to avoid
children ever since she had grown old enough to consider herself no longer one. Yet now she wanted to see, wanted to learn. Wanted to hold. The girl looked very alarmed.

‘Lady Anwyn sent me for hot water, ma'am. And I'm sure you wouldn't really want to go in there. It was a hard labour, ma'am. Twenty-four hours since … Well …' She looked down at the floor, then at Beulah's own swelling stomach. ‘You might not want to go in there.'

‘Does Anwyn make a habit of attending when her servants give birth?'

‘Why yes, ma'am. Or Lady Dilyth, but she's gone down to the harbour stores with His Grace the duke.'

Which explains why I couldn't find him, Beulah thought, and why the servants are all so fond of their former masters. Just then the baby let out another shriek.

‘Away and fetch your hot water, girl. Don't keep a mother waiting.' Beulah dismissed the servant, who bobbed a curtsy and scurried off down the corridor. Then she took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

Dafydd had just handed his newborn son to Anwyn when the door to the tiny bedroom was pushed open and a strange woman came in. Before he was seen, he stepped back, drawing the darkness around him as Usel had taught him. He had never before used the magic alone, and though the woman didn't seem to register his presence, he still felt exposed.

It had been a difficult day and night since Iolwen's labour had begun. Smuggling her up to the castle had been easy enough, but then Lady Dilyth and Anwyn had taken over, shooing Teryll and him away. Their obvious
Llanwennog looks and the fact that neither of them knew Abervenn meant that they could do little more than hide in the suite of rooms that had been provided for them. Servants brought meals and hot water for baths, but all requests for news of his wife's progress had been met with protestations of ignorance. Dafydd had fretted and paced, stared out the window at the harbour and city below, tried to sleep and even sent Teryll off to seek information, though with his poor grasp of Saesneg the stable lad was less than successful. Finally, he had been about to force a servant at swordpoint to take him to Anwyn when the lady herself had appeared, looking tired but happy, and congratulated him on the birth of his son.

Now, scant minutes later, having only held the tiny infant for a few moments, and wanting nothing more than to comfort his wife, he was forced to hide by the unannounced entry of …?

Dafydd looked closely at the woman who had entered. She was older than him, but not much. She held herself like someone used to being obeyed; perhaps he had noticed this about her instantly and that had made him hide rather than risk being seen by someone not sympathetic to his cause. She wore a simple dress, cut for ease of movement rather than high fashion but exquisitely made from the highest-quality material. Her hair was somewhere between blonde and red, matching the spread of freckles that peppered the tops of her wide cheeks and bridged her small nose, but it was her eyes that surprised him. She had Iolwen's eyes. Then he noticed the bulge in her stomach and realization dawned.

‘Your Majesty. This is most unexpected.' Anwyn
dropped to her knees, Dafydd's unnamed child still in her arms.

‘I was looking for my husband.'

‘His Grace the duke went down to the harbour with my mother, ma'am. She wanted to show him the excise warehouses in action, and a large merchant vessel arrived from Talarddeg this morning.'

‘I heard a baby crying.' Beulah seemed almost distracted, Dafydd thought. As if she didn't really know why she was here. A sudden idea entered his mind. She was alone, unguarded. He could strike her down in an instant. The war would be over before it even began.

‘One of my maidservants has just produced this fine baby boy.' Anwyn stood, blocking the path between him and the queen even as he began to summon his blade. It was as if she knew what he was thinking and had moved to stop him. And in that instant he realized he couldn't do it. However much he hated her, he couldn't strike down a pregnant woman; nor could he commit murder in front of his newborn child. In front of his wife.

Dafydd glanced at Iolwen, propped up in her bed, the covers drawn around her so that only her head was visible. She had suffered these past hours, and her face was pale, her hair matted with sweat. He had thought her asleep, but she was staring at the queen, her sister, with a look of alarm and disbelief. For the first time since entering the room, Beulah seemed to notice her too.

‘Do I know you? Perhaps you have worked at Candlehall?'

Iolwen's reply was both weak and hoarse, her voice broken by exhaustion and hours of screaming. ‘No, Your
Majesty. I've been in service to Lady Dilyth since I turned eight. My mam and da both worked here in the castle before me.'

‘Worked? Where are they now?'

‘Both dead, Your Majesty. Mam died when I was just little, and da didn't last long after she was gone.'

‘How terrible.' Queen Beulah didn't sound as if she meant it. ‘But you should know that the correct way to address a queen is to use “Your Majesty” only on first acquaintance. After that you may address me as “ma'am”.'

‘Yes, Your … Yes, ma'am.'

‘What is your name, girl?'

‘Iol— Iolo. Ma'am.'

‘Isn't Iolo a boy's name?'

‘It is indeed, ma'am. My da said he always wanted a boy.'

‘As did mine, strangely enough.'

‘Well, he's got one now, hasn't he.' Anwyn hefted the sleeping baby in her arms. ‘Would you like to hold him, ma'am?'

Dafydd almost dropped his spell of concealment, such was his surprise. What was Anwyn doing, handing over his son to the enemy? Beulah herself looked momentarily perplexed too, as if she had not anticipated such intimacy. But before she could do much more than stare, Anwyn had handed the sleeping child over, showing the queen how to hold him.

‘Oh, but he weighs nothing,' Beulah said. ‘And he's so small. How can anything so helpless survive?'

‘He will be well looked after here, ma'am,' Anwyn replied. ‘The Dukes of Abervenn have always provided for the children of the castle, and many have gone on to
serve them throughout their lives. He might grow to be a stable lad or a soldier. Or maybe learn his letters and become a clerk.'

‘Or he may be chosen for the novitiate. He has an aura of power about him. But he is very dark. Who is his father?'

‘A soldier, ma'am. Darrin's his name. He's gone to Tochers with the rest of the duke's men.' Iolwen was beginning to regain some of her composure, the initial shock of seeing her sister wearing off, Dafydd assumed. But as her strength returned, bringing colour to her cheeks, and the sweat dried from her face and hair, so she looked more and more like the princess he knew and loved, less and less like a serving girl married to a common peasant soldier. And even he could tell that her accent was different to the way the other servants spoke, closer to Anwyn's refined Saesneg. Fortunately none of the servants present had said a word, but it was only a matter of time before the queen began to suspect something.

‘And does he have Llanwennog blood, this Darrin?'

‘Many of the people of Abervenn have traces of foreign blood in them, ma'am,' Anwyn said. ‘My own mother was born and raised in Talarddeg. Our trade with other lands is what has made this place so rich, and furnished your army with men and weapons.'

‘I am aware of the role Abervenn has played in shaping the Twin Kingdoms, Anwyn.' Beulah's tone was sharp, but at that moment the baby gurgled and opened his eyes. The queen was distracted, her face softening as she looked down, and she held out a finger for the baby's tiny hands to grasp. Dafydd watched as the woman who had killed
one sister and ordered the assassination of another cooed over the infant.

‘He'll be of an age with my own child,' she said after a while. ‘Perhaps he will be able to serve the heir to the Obsidian Throne. Who knows what fate has in store for any of us. Oh!'

Dafydd almost leaped forward. As it was, he was sure that for a moment his concealment collapsed. The baby let out a squeal not so much of alarm as of mischief, and Beulah pushed him away from her back into Anwyn's ready hands. Dafydd tried to work out what had happened, and then the spreading stain on the material of the queen's dress made everything clear.

‘Your Majesty! Here, let me see to that.' Anwyn handed the infant to a maidservant, taking up a cloth and dabbing at the material of the queen's dress. Beulah stood helpless, a look somewhere between bemusement and rage on her face.

‘Quick. We must get this into clean cold water as soon as possible or it will stain.' Anwyn hurried the unusually compliant queen out of the room just as the other maidservant returned with a bucket of hot water and towels. ‘Ah, good. Gemma, please attend to mother and child. You know what to do.' And with that she was gone.

Dafydd stood motionless, still concealed, for a full minute, the room silent, all ears straining to hear what went on outside. Anwyn's effusive apologies and Beulah's occasional monosyllabic answers faded away and then disappeared entirely. Finally he could restrain himself no more. He banished the spell and stepped forward into the light with a great guffaw. Iolwen's face was creased in a
tired smile too, and she took her errant son back from the maidservant gratefully.