The Dragon Prince (5 page)

A sense of desperation gripped her as she
paced on the uneven stone pathway. For her whole life she had been
powerless—first as a child, then as a slave, and now as a woman in
her uncle’s household. She was sick to death of having her life
ordered by others. Having found the man she had dreamed of for so
many years, she was not going to lose him once again. In a day or
two, this meeting between Saxon and Briton would be finished and
all the warriors would return to the lands they claimed for their
own. But she was not going to let Rhun ap Maelgwn simply walk away.
When he left, she would go with him.

She’d thought on the matter every moment
since their conversation in the forest, and she’d decided what she
would do. During the last part of the discussions, hostages had
been mentioned. If she were one of those hostages, she would be
able to go with Rhun. Although she doubted he would guard her
himself, she would at least have a chance to speak to him some
more, to convince him that despite the conflict between their
peoples, they were meant to be together.

Now all she had to do was persuade Cerdic to
go along with her plan. How should she do it? She must not appear
overeager, or he would become suspicious of her motives. It would
have to be a casual offer, made while he was in the midst of
discussion with his thanes. In the morning, before the Britons
returned to the council meeting, he would gather his men and plot
strategy. She would be there, moving about unobtrusively, serving
them food and drink. When the subject of hostages came up, she
would quietly suggest herself.

It was a bold, daring scheme. The idea of it
made her heart pound with trepidation. But she was determined. This
might be the only chance she would ever have to be with the man she
loved.

The gods favored her. Or at least Freya, the
goddess of love did, she thought the next morning as she arranged
pieces of bread spread with butter and honey on an ornate gold tray
and prepared to take it in to her uncle’s council. As she left the
kitchen shed and approached the longhouse, she could hear the men
discussing who the hostages would be. It was clear from their
hesitant, uncomfortable tones that they all knew if Cerdic broke
the truce, which was likely, the hostages’ lives would be forfeit.
None of them were eager to risk their lives or the lives of their
close kin.

Her hands trembled as she carried in the
tray. How could she speak to Cerdic when he was meeting with his
thanes? But she had to. She had to be bold.

She moved around the room, serving each man,
smiling cordially at them if they bothered to look at her. As
always, some of the men cast admiring glances her way. They lusted
for her, she knew. But they didn’t want to wed her, only take her
for a leman.

Her heart pounded faster as she approached
Cerdic. He would take no notice of her. To him she was less
important than his hunting hounds. She paused next to his huge,
carved wooden chair. “Uncle,” she said in a trembling voice. “I
would serve as hostage to the Britons, if you would wish it.”

His head jerked around and his pale eyes
regarded her with terrifying intensity. She wondered how any man
dared face him in battle, so ruthless and paralyzing was his gaze.
“You? Why would you do that?”

She licked her lips and gave the speech she
had rehearsed. “I want this truce to last. I am tired of war, of
seeing everyone I care for die or be enslaved. I will do anything
to bring peace.” Cerdic knew how much she abhorred battle and
killing. Her words were heartfelt, even if they did not exactly
tell the truth.

He said nothing for a time, and neither did
any other warrior in the room. The seconds passed, counted out in
her heartbeats. Cerdic glanced around at his men, then back at her.
“Leave us,” he said.

She placed the tray on the table and walked
out with as much poise and grace as possible. In the antechamber,
she paused. If she were a dutiful, obedient niece, she would go to
the kitchen and fetch more ale, instead of standing near the door
and listening to them decide her fate. But years of being powerless
had taught her to glean what knowledge she could.

She could catch only bits and pieces of the
discussion, but it was clear they viewed her suggestion favorably.
“Close family member...” and “don’t have to give up a warrior.” and
“Arthur... soft... might not kill a woman.” That was Cerdic
speaking, making it clear that as hostage, her life would be in the
hands of the Britons’ leader.

Eastra took a deep breath. What if her
scheming cost her life? If she was the hostage and Cerdic broke the
truce, she would die. But surely Rhun would not allow that. He
stood high in Arthur’s favor and he’d saved her life once already.
Besides, would not dying almost be preferable to the life she lived
now, as a princess in name and a
nithing
in fact? She had no
future, nothing to look forward to except growing old. Never to
marry, have a home of her own, bear a child—what sort of life was
that?

She squared her shoulders and hurried to the
kitchen. When Cerdic sent for her to tell her his decision, she
would have the ale ready.

* * *

“No! He can’t offer her as their hostage!
It’s barbaric! What sort of man involves a woman in war?” Rhun
paused to take an anguished breath. When he looked around the room,
he saw Arthur and the rest of his fellow Britons were staring at
him in shock. Across the table, Cerdic folded his arms across his
chest and gave Rhun a look as cold as the north wind off the
mountain peaks of Gwynedd.

Bridei broke the stunned silence.
“Obviously, Cerdic
is
a barbarian. That’s the whole point of
exchanging hostages.” Then he turned to Cerdic and spoke in
Saxon.

“What did you say?” Rhun demanded when
Bridei finished.

“I told him you were displeased to have a
woman involved in men’s business.”

Rhun opened his mouth to angrily dispute
Bridei’s comment but then remembered himself. Bridei was being
diplomatic, explaining things so the Saxon savage would understand
and not take offense. Besides, Rhun decided, seeking to calm
himself, he should not have spoken out so emphatically. It was
Arthur’s place to politely decline this ridiculous offer.

Rhun looked to his commander. Arthur was
frowning, which relieved him. He obviously did not like the idea of
a female hostage any better than Rhun did.

Arthur said, “I think this is a matter we
must discuss in private.”

Bridei translated for Cerdic, who nodded,
then rose from the table, gesturing to his fellow warriors to do
the same. He spoke in his guttural language and left the room, his
thanes trailing after him.

“How can we trust they won’t put a spy by
the door to listen?” Cador asked angrily.

“If they understand Briton, they already
know what we think,” Bridei pointed out.

“No, they know what
Rhun
thinks.”
Cador turned to him, his face tight with resentment. “What was the
point of that outburst? It’s not your place to discuss the terms of
the truce with Cerdic.”

“I’m sorry. I forgot myself,” Rhun said
tightly. He disliked Cador. In his obsession with the cause of
ridding Britain of the “heathen Saxons,” Arthur’s secondary
commander had done many cruel and awful things. What was the point
of saving Christian Britain, Rhun had more than once mused aloud,
if a man lost his own soul doing it?

“Rhun has a point,” Arthur said quietly.
“But I actually think it works to our advantage. Cerdic’s proposal
give us only one hostage as surety against his honoring the truce.
That means we only have to offer up one ourselves.”

“But we can’t accept a woman as hostage!”
Rhun exclaimed. “What if Cerdic breaks the truce? Do you want to be
the one to order her death?”

“But she is his niece,” Bedwyr pointed out.
“I can’t think he would willingly sacrifice his own kin.”

His own kin, but worthless to him
anyway,
Rhun thought bitterly. Eastra had made it very clear
that because she had been a slave, she was considered
unmarriageable, and therefore useless in helping Cerdic form
political alliances. But he could not say that. Then he would have
to explain the circumstances of how he’d gained this
information.

Arthur stroked his jaw. “I take this as a
sign Cerdic is serious about seeking a lasting peace. I must match
his bold gesture with one of my own. I have no blood kin, save
Mordred. What do you think of my offering him as our hostage?”

No one spoke, but an uncomfortable tension
filled the room. Mordred was unpopular with Arthur’s captains. Some
of them even doubted the young man was really Arthur’s bastard son.
All they had was Arthur’s stone-faced pronouncement it was true.
Rhun could sense the other men weighing and analyzing Arthur’s
proposal. If the truce were broken and Mordred killed, that would
be one way to be rid of him.

But Rhun felt he should argue against
Arthur’s choice. Mordred was a cunning and slippery man. Putting
him into the hands of the enemy seemed like a dangerous idea. But
at least if the truce were broken, clever Mordred might be able to
make some arrangement with Cerdic to save his own skin. And if
Mordred did not die, Eastra was safe.

Rhun’s stomach churned with anxiety at the
thought of Eastra’s being a hostage. It was almost worse than her
being a slave. But he didn’t think he could prevail against Arthur
in this matter.

“Mordred is in Londinium.” Arthur’s mouth
twitched in disgust. “Probably wenching and dicing. I will send
you, Bedwyr and Tristan, to fetch him. As soon as he’s here, the
exchange will be made.”

“And then what?” Cei asked. “Where will the
woman be held?”

“At Camlann with Guinevere?” Cador
suggested.

Arthur shook his head. “I don’t want to
leave a large force there. So far, the Saxons haven’t seen fit to
attack our settlements, but that could change if we make them too
enticing as targets.”

“Where, then?” Cei asked again.

“It should be somewhere far enough away that
Cerdic’s forces would have to travel a long distance through enemy
territory to free her,” Bedwyr said.

Arthur nodded.

“I have an idea,” Bridei said. “What if we
took her back to my father’s fortress in Gwynedd? Then the Saxons
would have to journey all the way across Britain to claim her. Once
in Gwynedd, they would be very conspicuous among the mostly
dark-haired Cymry.”

“And would your father accept responsibility
for a hostage?” Arthur’s eyes glowed with bitterness. Rhun knew his
commander had never gotten over Maelgwn’s refusal to join their
cause. Since he had no fear of them taking over his territories and
no quarrel with whatever gods they chose to worship, Maelgwn always
said he saw no point in waging war against the Saxons. Rhun also
resented his father’s attitude but was powerless to influence
him.

Bridei shrugged. “I don’t think he would
care one way or another. My father takes very little interest in
politics these days.”

Rhun shot his brother a hostile look. He
wanted to argue against Bridei’s plan, but he could think of no
good reason to oppose it.

“An excellent suggestion.” Arthur nodded
approvingly. “I will charge Rhun with the responsibility for taking
her to his father’s fortress at Deganwy.”

“Me?” Rhun exclaimed. “But don’t you need me
with you, to fight if the truce doesn’t hold?”

“I’ll expect you to return as soon as you
have seen to the woman’s safety,” Arthur said.

Rhun bit down hard, torn between conflicting
emotions. He didn’t want Eastra to be the hostage. But if the thing
was decided, perhaps it was better if he were the one to protect
her. Unless the truce was broken and Mordred killed. A wave of
dread washed through him. What would he do if his commander ordered
him to kill her?

He must not think about that, Rhun told
himself. Cerdic must be at least partially sincere in his desire
for peace, else he would not have agreed to the truce. Barbarian or
not, he surely wasn’t so coldhearted as to allow his niece to be
killed unless his enemy did something truly treacherous.

Rhun was jerked from his thoughts when he
heard Bridei say, “I will go with my brother. I can translate for
them, since it’s doubtful the woman speaks the British tongue.”

Rhun glared at his brother, wondering at his
intentions in making this offer. To make trouble, no doubt. That
seemed to be Bridei’s purpose in life.

Arthur nodded. “Once this truce is arranged,
I won’t need you as interpreter. And some other bard can be found
to entertain the troops.”

Bridei grinned broadly.

Arthur sent a man to call the Saxons back
into the meeting room. When the final details of the hostage
exchange were arranged, the Britons left the settlement and went
back to their camp. Although Rhun itched to speak to his brother
and give him a piece of his mind, he had to remain with Arthur a
while longer. They discussed what supplies and additional troops
might be needed to transport a woman such a distance. Rhun
convinced Arthur that a small party of experienced warriors would
be sufficient to guard them. After all, he argued, they would be
traveling through their own territories and not subject to attack.
His real reason for declining a larger escort was because he didn’t
want any of Arthur’s other officers around in case his previous
acquaintance with Eastra came to light.

Finally, Arthur dismissed him and Rhun went
to find Bridei. He discovered him seated around a cookfire with
several of the other men. “Ah, my brother,” Bridei said as Rhun
approached. “Join us in celebrating the truce.” He held out a
wineskin.

“I would speak to you alone.”

Bridei shrugged and stood up. He took a few
more gulps from the wineskin then passed it to the man beside him.
Rhun strode off into the darkness with Bridei trailing after
him.