The Lady of the Sea (27 page)

Mark’s lips parted in a ghastly grin. And did you still think that, Father, when I let you die? When you were wounded in the forest and I refused to go for help, no matter how much you shouted and threatened me? You were very intent then on telling me what to do. But I proved to you then that I had a will of my own. How surprised you were!

He laughed for pure joy at the thought of his father’s death. And then I became King. His chest swelled. So I’ve earned the right to do what a king has to do. He lifted his head, reveling in the access of power.

“All in good time, Lord Arraganzo. Today I have a quarry to hunt down.” He raised his arm. “Mount up, men!” he snarled.

There was a commotion in the yard as the dogs came flooding in, a tide of barking, yelping, heaving brown and white. Andred turned to the nearest groom and signaled for his horse.

“Sire?”

There was a faint cry from the castle walls. A moment later, a man-at-arms came clattering down from the battlements.

“Word from the lookout, sire,” he panted. “The Queen and Sir Tristan have been sighted. They’re riding in.”

chapter 38

C
astle Dore.

Isolde sat heavily on her horse with Tristan at her side and shivered at the sight of the white walls and graceful towers, bright with the banners of Cornwall fluttering in the sun. What had brought them here?

Grimly, she searched her soul, wondering if this could be right. In truth, all she wanted was to be back with Tristan, roaming in the wood. Yet here he was, too, white-faced and watchful as they rode up to the castle and in through the massive gates. The sun smiled down from a sky as clear as glass on a day that would normally have set the blood coursing through their veins. But all she could feel was the shadow over their lives.

It had all seemed so simple before. Of course they should go back to Ireland, not to Castle Dore. Mark was not to be trusted, they knew that by now. And what did they owe him more than they had already done?

But that was the question that continued to haunt Tristan.

“If I want to quit Mark’s service with honor,” he brooded, “I should kneel before him, beg his permission to leave, and kiss his hands in farewell.”

Isolde laughed harshly. “You know what Mark thinks about honor. Will he let you go?”

“I don’t know,” Tristan admitted. “But the laws of chivalry say that no knight can be forced to serve against his will. If Mark refuses, I can take my sword, my shield, and my horse and ride away to find another lord.” He gave a lopsided grin that pierced her soul. “Or a lady, like the one I found so long ago. One word from Mark, and I can follow the love of my life.”

“Oh Tristan . . .”

They kissed as if it was the first time their lips had met. At last, she hesitatingly resumed. “But can we risk it? Your life may be at stake.”

“I have to try. Only then can I call myself free.”

Erin is free.

She could hear Ireland calling with a passion that tore her in two.
In Ireland, we would be free.
But unless things were settled with Mark, would they ever be safe?

“If we go back to Ireland together, Mark will be publicly shamed. And if his pride has been hurt, he’ll have to seek revenge,” Isolde said slowly.

Tristan sighed. “Lady, I think we have to go back to Castle Dore. Let’s make a clean and honorable break with the past, then afterward we can live as we want.”

Isolde fought down her misgivings. “Well, then, let’s do it. We’ll ride in together, and then we shall be free.”

Free of Mark . . .

She hardly dared think it. After almost twenty years, could it ever come true?

The courtyard ahead of them was seething with life. Forty or fifty men were mounting up while a pack of hounds raced round the cobbled square. At the center of the whirlwind were Mark and Andred, both mounted on the strongest chargers Castle Dore could provide.

Tristan drew in his breath. “They’re going out on the hunt.”

“To hunt us?” Isolde turned pale.

“Who else?”

Then he’s already decided to kill us.

She pulled her horse’s head around. “Run for it, Tristan!”

“Isolde!” Mark hailed her loudly from the center of the throng, carving his way toward them with Andred at his side. “Welcome, Isolde. And Tristan, greetings to you.”

“Greetings, my lord.” Isolde tried to smile.

Mark gave a glittering smile. God Almighty, Isolde was a fine woman, even though she was looking so pale and breathless now. But how dare she ride back in like this, as if nothing had happened?

“We had heard you were lodging in the wood,” he said. He waved a gauntleted hand at the baying hounds. “We were on our way to look for you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Mark caught the Cardinal Legate and Father Dominian staring in stark disbelief, and his shriveled heart soared. How wonderful to make those pompous religious asses goggle and glare!

He pointed to the two clerics. “They thought you had fled the country,” he caroled. “While all the time—”

Isolde bit her lip. “Sire, let me explain—”

“Later, later.” Mark brushed her aside. She’d speak when he was ready and not before. “Tonight I shall feast you as the Queen deserves. The Pope’s emissary has been longing to make your acquaintance, haven’t you, sir?’

Arraganzo bowed toward Isolde with a tortured smile. “As you say, sire.”

I’ll feast her and find out what she’s up to, ran through Mark’s fevered brain. Tristan, too. What are they doing here? Does Isolde expect to come back to me as my wife? If she does, I should force her to follow it through. A wild thought struck him. Why, I could still get her with child before the year is out. That would show all the world who ruled here as King!

“A feast, a feast!” he brayed. He threw up an arm, and called the chamberlain to his side. “Make the Great Hall ready for the finest feast tonight. The King will honor his returning Queen!”

The courtyard erupted in a mighty roar of whistles and cheers as the knights showed their approval of the revelry to come. Mark’s mean heart swelled. He looked at the downcast Isolde, and malice filled his soul. By heaven, I’ve got the whip hand over her now. And she’s still my wife. She’s made me look a fool, and she’ll pay for that. If I ply her with drink, I can take her tonight. Dominian is right, I’ve waited far too long.

In the hubbub, he found Arraganzo by his side. He was pleased to see the Cardinal looking yellow and jaundiced with rage.

“And what of your wards, sire, the Princesses of Dun Haven?” the Legate forced out. “The girls who so tenderly hoped to marry you?”

“Oh, they can stay here at Castle Dore, never fear. Leave them to me, and you’ll find they’ll be in good hands,” Mark said truculently.

His soul soared. Now that Isolde had returned, he could do anything. If she was ready to obey him now as his wife, he’d have her as his Queen and the mother of his heir, and keep the two girls as well. They could enliven the times when there was no hunting and life at court grew dull. His grin broadened. It was the best of both worlds, and just what he deserved.

“See, nephew, see?” he hissed into Andred’s ear. “You thought Isolde and Tristan were traitors. But here they are, both of them, just as I ordered. The Queen has come back to fulfill her marriage vows to me.”

“As you say, sir.” Andred bowed his head.

Mark’s mood swung upward like a weather vane. Already he could see himself presiding at the feast, a goblet in his hand, the thick red wine running into his veins like blood and the pleasure of forcing himself on Isolde to come. It was time for her to be a wife to him, whether she wanted it or not. Tonight he would make the baby his barons desired.

He snorted with mirth. He’d get his revenge on Isolde, and at the same time Nabon and the others would be silenced, too. Better and better, the best! For one long, lovely moment Mark had the world at his feet, a new world of power, fulfillment, and control.

But the voice at his elbow put an end to all his dreams. “No feast for us, sire, I beg.”

He turned to look at Isolde. Never had she looked so pale and cold. “I must talk to you now, indoors,” she said through icy lips.

“What, now?”

“Alas, yes.”

Why alas? Brooding, Mark dismounted and led the way indoors. Surely Isolde wouldn’t try to thwart him as soon as she was back? He strode into the nearest chamber and turned to face her, with Dominian and Andred at his side.

Across the room a solitary fly was beating against the window, trapped inside the panes of greenish glass. Mark tugged at his collar. God, it was stuffy in here. He stood shaking his head and pulling at his ear, hardly able to believe what he was hearing. What was Isolde saying? And could she possibly mean what she said?

‘Sir, I’ve come to give you your freedom and to claim my own. Then I mean to return to Ireland and resume my throne.”

“What nonsense is this?” Mark gave a blustering guffaw. “You’re not free, Isolde, you’re my wife, and the time has come for you to be a wife indeed.”

Gaping, she saw the lascivious light in his eye. “Wife . . . to you?” she stammered.

“Who else?” Mark shot back. He took a step toward her. “My wife in truth, Isolde, as well as in name.”

“Sir, we have been ceremonial partners, you and I,” she forced out. “Our marriage has been a sham for all these years, and we must put an end to this pretense.”

“You’re right about that,” Mark agreed with a coarse laugh. He seized her by the wrist. “We’re going to make this a marriage in the eyes of the world. A full married union, Isolde, what do you think of that?”

Triumphantly, he looked at Dominian for approval, and saw that Tristan was standing aghast, as pale as death. As well he might, Mark rejoiced. A child would put an end to any hopes Tristan had of Cornwall’s throne. And that would show them all who ruled here as King.

Goddess, Mother, help me . . .

“Sir, I cannot contemplate what you suggest.” Resolutely, Isolde struggled to set Mark straight. “If you’re thinking that way, then you’re deceiving yourself. I’ve taken spiritual counsel in Ireland, and my Druid has pronounced that our marriage is ended, if it ever began. From this moment on, I can no longer be your wife.”

“You’ve consulted your Druid, lady?”

It was Dominian, violently thrusting his squat body to the fore. “What has a pagan priest to do with this?”

“Our Druids have the same spiritual authority that your Christian priests claim. And mine confirms my judgment that this marriage is no more.”

“And this gives you the right to end a marriage by your own will?” the priest mocked savagely. “How can that be? You married the King by the rites of our Holy Church, and our God allows women no say at all in that.”

Isolde’s temper flared. “Under the Goddess, priest—”

“Your Goddess is no more!” Dominian shrilled. “We have taken your temples and overthrown your shrines. Your so-called Hallows are now lost to the world, and in times to come, no one will remember that a woman God once ruled. All men will know the story of our Holy Grail, and not a soul will know that we took it from the loving cup of the Mother when she supplied all who came to her feasts.”

“Oh, priest—” Isolde could not contain herself. “D’you think people are fools?” She gave a bitter laugh. “Yes, your followers are ruthless, determined, and strong. Violent men always win in the short term. But in times to come, all women, and men, too, will understand that you usurped all the powers of our Goddess, our Mother the earth, to feed all her children and provide for all who come.”

“Blasphemy!” put in Dominian with a face of fire.

Isolde thrust her face into his. “Do you know, priest, or do you care that our very word ‘lady’ means ‘She who feeds us with bread’? That your men priests have only wine to pass off as blood, while every mother gives her blood to make the human race?”

Dominian’s face was glistening with bile. “In the name of God, hear me—”

“No more.” She waved a hand. “Faith should be kindness. Religion should be love. You will never convert me to a religion of sin and death, least of all one that gives your sect the right to destroy all other beliefs. It may take a thousand years, but a day will come when all men and women will know that you and your kind overthrew the Great Mother and installed a God of hate.”

She turned toward Mark and felt herself swelling with power. “I am Isolde, Queen of the Western Isle, and I divorce you now, King Mark of Cornwall and the isles. All bonds are dissolved between us from this time forth. You are no longer my husband, and I am not your wife. Let us think and speak kindly of one another in times to come. You will find me in Ireland, and you will always be welcome there.”

There was an echoing silence. Tristan stepped forward and fell to one knee, offering the hilt of his sword to Mark.

“I, too, must take my leave of you, King Mark. My duty to the Queen demands that I follow her as her knight. I beg Your Majesty to grant me my discharge from your service with honor on both sides.”

Mark groped for words. “Go then,” he said thickly. “A true lord releases his knight at a request like this. And the same must be true of a husband.” He turned to Isolde. “Take up your new life in Ireland. You are free to go where you like. I wish you both well.”

Free?

Free to go?

Isolde could not believe it. Her head was reeling.
Am I dreaming this?

Suddenly, she felt Tristan’s hand gripping her elbow, urging her toward the door.

“Out, lady. We must get out,” came a fierce, almost soundless whisper in her ear.

She fumbled a bow toward Mark.

“Thank you, my lord,” she said hollowly. “We shall send from Ireland to hear news of you, and we shall always be glad to have your news in return.”

Trembling in every limb, she let Tristan lead her away. Her legs would hardly carry her to the door, but beyond it lay the world she had longed for all her life.

We shall be safe and free now, Tristan and I.

Goddess, Mother, thanks!

“May God bring you both everything you deserve,” Mark called after them. But they did not stop to ponder what he meant.