The Shadow of a King (Shadowland Book 2) (19 page)

 Chapter 16 
A Broken Cup

The celebrations continued throughout the afternoon and on until the light began to fade from the day. The weather had remained fair throughout, but there was now a strong breeze and a chill in the air that promised the cold of winter was approaching. Uther decided he was glad the quest was behind them and he was back amongst his people once again.

Within the great hall, it was warm; guests were arriving and the musicians had already begun their playing. Glancing about, he realised this might be the last chance he would get to slip away and get a little fresh air before the feasting began in earnest, and so he discreetly withdrew in search of the cool of the evening and strolled out and through the upper wooden gates. After exchanging greetings with a few guests moving in the other direction, he eventually found a quiet unobserved spot where he could look down into the lower stockade.

He watched as people moved happily between the two smaller, communal halls, milling around the many fires where a variety of meats were being cooked – grouse, ducks, geese and swans all being turned on long spits, whilst on other fires, cuts of boar, deer and mutton were being roasted, the sound of the meat's fat dripping, hissing into the fires, where it wasn't being caught in clay bowls to be eaten later, carried back to him. Uther drew in a breath, rich in the scents of cooking meats and freshly baked breads and smiled. He took it all in, enjoying the moment of being alone and watching the people of the tribes as they celebrated the beginning of Samhain.

The light was almost gone, the darkness of Samhain almost upon them. Uther glanced up, feeling a chill of superstitious dread for this most special of evenings. The breeze had swept the sky clear of any clouds and he could just make out the sparkle of the first stars.

All around the walls of the lower stockade, fire braziers were being lit, both to illuminate the merriments and also to keep the evilest spirits of the night at bay. The Eve of Samhain was the one night of the year when the spirits of the dead, those who had passed into the Shadowland within the last year, would be able to push through the veil between the worlds. The Druids told that the veil between the worlds was at its thinnest during Samhain, so the dead would enter and walk upon the earth for one final time, saying their goodbyes and dealing with any unfinished business. Every tribesman knew they should take great care because, upon the Eve of Samhain, it was not only the spirits of the dead that would be entering the realm of man, but it was also spirits of a more evil and mischievous nature that would be set loose upon this world, all for this one most special of nights.

Warriors were patrolling the lower ramparts and Uther noticed that the main gate had already been closed and its locking beam set, leaving only the smaller gate for access. His men, under Sir Ector, would be ever vigilant upon this night, for no evil spirit nor indeed, could any Saxon be allowed to catch them unawares just because they were celebrating.

'It's beautiful, isn't it?'

The question crashed through his musings and Uther flinched in surprise and took a step away before stopping himself. The voice seemed to have come from nowhere, indeed, until that moment he had thought himself to be quite alone. Peering into the shadows, he saw that someone was standing closer to the wall, but it didn't look to be an evil spirit, although he couldn't be sure… no, it was a woman… he hadn't noticed her before. He felt his throat constrict as he realised that fate had brought him into the presence of Igraine, he swallowed.

'I always love the early part of the evening,' her voice was little more than a whisper, just another slight breeze upon the twilit air. 'When the stars begin to make themselves known with the first of their light. It's as if they have been waiting for the sun to hide beyond the hills and then, once they begin to feel safe, they peek out through the darkness and reveal themselves… it is quite magical, especially so tonight, on the Eve of Samhain.'

'My Lady, you took me quite by surprise, you are here alone? It is not seemly to be alone and unescorted. Do you not fear the spirits that will be walking amongst us this night?' He stepped closer to where she stood, a shadow amongst the shadows. 'Most people have a certain respect, if not a fear for the Eve of Samhain. They will cling to the firelight until the first glimpse of dawn has chased your stars away. Tonight, my Lady, it is dangerous to stay within the shadows.'

He heard her laugh and saw her hand move up to her mouth. 'Why King, Uther, do you really believe that tonight spirits, sprites and ghosts will pass through from beyond and walk beside us?' Her tone carried her smile and was slightly mocking. It was as if she were teasing a child and not talking to her King. 'I must confess that in all my years, I have yet to see any of these spirits, good… or bad.'

'Indeed, my Lady, yet I still think it best to hold with the Druid teachings this Eve. It is never wise to tempt the spirits and, truth be told, I have always enjoyed this celebration upon the first night of Samhain. It is the chance to commune with our dead and has always been a time of good memories for me. An opportunity to think that perhaps those I have loved and honoured have not been taken from us forever, so utterly and rudely removed from existence.' He stood beside her and looked back out across the celebrations below. 'As we always do, we have set places at the feast for many of our departed friends, those who have crossed into the Shadowland within this last year, Cunobelin of the Trinovantes, who lost his life upon our quest is amongst them. We shall honour them, welcome them to our table, boast of their deeds and seek their council. And I admit to you that since I was a small child, I have been among those who also believe that, on this one night of the year, there will also be more evil spirits lurking in the shadows waiting to make their mischief and so I take care. Some will be spirits, but others will merely be men up to no good, waiting to blame the evil spirits for their wrongdoings.' Uther turned his gaze to the shadowy figure beside him and smiled. 'It is so hard to see you in this light. Perhaps, my Lady, I am speaking with an ugly, mischievous sprite and not with the most comely, Lady Igraine, should I be prepared to defend myself?' He heard the soft sound of her laughter once again and saw her glance back into the hall.

'Do not be distressed, King Uther, I am no sprite, yet I do fear that I have arrived at your celebrations a little less comely than when you saw me earlier today. With your permission, I shall keep to myself in the shadows. I have no wish to spoil the occasion. I shall not be taking part this year, but shall remain at a distance and then await your permission to leave with my people.' She turned as the sound of cheering erupted from below. Lit by the flickering light of the fires, dancers were leaping and turning to the sound of pipes while those watching laughed and clapped their hands in time to the deep rhythm of the drums and tabors. As Igraine leant out over the stockade wall, her face left the shadow and was momentarily revealed in the light. To Uther, she still appeared as beautiful as when he had first set his eyes upon her earlier that same day when she had moved through the crowd and he had felt his heart struck. But then she turned and he saw that the other side of her face wore a livid bruise and her left eye was swollen, almost closed.

'My Lady! What has happened? You have been injured, who would do this?' He felt a surge of anger flood through him, and he clenched his fists. 'If you were attacked, I shall make them pay, whoever it might be. You are my guest within this fortress and as such should enjoy your King's protection.' He reached out and took her by the shoulders, turning her towards him and bringing her face once more into the light, but she struggled and tried to back away.

'Please, King Uther, no.' She pulled further back to the safety of the shadows. 'It was a family disagreement, an accident, a misunderstanding for which my Lord has since offered his apologies. The fault for what befell me was mine and is mine alone to bear. Please… just leave me and rejoin the feast, you will soon be missed and…'

'You are wife to the Duc of Cornwall, to Gerlois?' Uther dropped his arms and stepped back. 'He beat you… I had heard that this happened, but had not realised that it was you of whom they spoke.'

'My husband is Duc Gerlois, and yes, he was most upset that I chose to leave his side and walk alone earlier today. I wanted to be amongst the people arriving and to see and enjoy the dancers, so after some time in his company, I slipped away without an escort. He was also angry that I allowed our children to leave his side, but since he departed on the quest the children have made friends here, as children will, and they wanted to join them in their games. Now that he has returned I sense he has changed for the worse.

'This isn't the first time he has beaten you is it?'

'No, certainly not the first, he has struck me often, as any husband will to keep his wife to his order.'

'That is not an excuse to hit a lady of rank, not with such force. Nor to hit someone whom he loves.'

She laughed, the sound soft and musical. 'He does not love me, King Uther. I don't think Gerlois loves anyone or anything, certainly not me. Perhaps trade, he loves to trade. Anyway, now that he has returned from your quest he seems so agitated all the while. He would have his family standing beside him at all times. King Uther, I know something untoward took place upon the quest, something that has caused him to become angry and distressed and most eager to leave, but we have not had the opportunity to speak of whatever happened yet.' She sighed and looked down at the fires and the dancers. 'You must know that he is not such a bad person, King Uther, it is just that my husband can be a complicated man and has a terrible temper. He would prefer, and indeed deserves, a more dutiful and compliant wife than I am able to be. Our union was arranged by my father, who took much-needed coin for giving me over. I confess it has been a very suitable match for my family, and another trade deal for Gerlois, who gained much land and holdings from my father. Yet the arrangement has possibly been too restricting for me. I was spoiled. Once our match was made, I was allowed to occupy the fortress at Tintagel, the least favoured of Gerlois homes as there is so little trade to be done. Before this, I was living in my father's hall in the village of Tamara. My father was the chieftain of the Cornovii tribe and I am his only child, so I was an important girl,' - there was a smile in her voice and then she sighed - 'but he was old. He had debts to Gerlois and others and so he sold me along with his right to rule over the Cornovii. When I was young, I could go where I pleased, no escorts. I knew everyone and all knew me. Tamara is a beautiful village on the banks of a river. I remember riding on the raft that travellers would be taken across on, the ferryman was my friend. It was a nice place to be a child and when I grew a little older, I trained with the warriors.' She sighed turned to face him. 'Let's just say I enjoyed a freedom in Tamara that is now more difficult to find,' - she leant a little closer and added in a near whisper - 'it is often a little difficult to live up to my husband's rules and standards.' She gazed at Uther silently for a moment, and he felt she was judging how much more she could confess. They were still in shadow, yet his eyes had adjusted, and he could now see some detail of her face as well as the darkness of her bruises. She came to her decision because she quietly confided: 'I am afraid after all these years he has little or no affection for me, I am as was an incumbent product from his trade. I often toy with the notion of disappearing into the crowd and never again fearing that he will beat me, or perhaps… no, I have said too much, none of this is your concern and I have overstepped my place, please accept my apologies.' Her hand brushed his arm as she withdrew, but he stepped forward and held her, feeling emboldened as she allowed him so close. He could smell her hair and feel her breathing, the warmth of her body against his.

'Perhaps our meeting was fated, Igraine.' He gazed down at her as she leant silently against him. 'I would take you from him, make you mine. I wish to protect you, to hold you always. I…'

'Igraine!' The shout came from just a short distance away, and the couple quickly stepped apart, with Uther turning to watch the dancers and Igraine withdrawing once more into the shadows. Uther glanced back and saw Duc Gerlois walking uncertainly towards him. The Duc was showing signs that he had been drinking heavily, he held a clay cup, carelessly spilling its contents as he walked, his head turning left and right, searching for his wife. Face flushed; he wore the familiar scowl set rigidly in place, but then his eyebrows rose as he recognised his King and he stopped short. The clay cup fell and broke as it hit the ground spilling a pool of the remaining liquid at the Duc's feet.

Uther began walking towards him, a smile set upon his face. 'Duc Gerlois, I was watching the people dance and taking a little air, but now I find there is a chill to the evening, and so I shall rejoin the celebration within the hall, please, join me.' Uther held out his arm to encourage the Duc to walk in his direction, and Gerlois did, but not before casting a frowning eye over the area where Uther had been standing.