Read The Dragon Lord's Daughters Online
Authors: Bertrice Small
The Dragon Lord's Daughters (17 page)
Finally the meal was ready to be served, and Argel invited them all to the high board, saying as she did to the Lord of the Lake, “Our meals are simple, my lord.” Then she seated Emrys Llyn at her husband's right hand before taking her own place at his left hand. The remainder of the family took their places, but for Brynn, who was late. The blessing was said before the boy rushed into the hall, apologizing.
“This is your sister's suitor, Emrys Llyn, the Lord of the Lake,” Merin Pendragon said to his son as the lad took his seat.
Brynn tore a chunk of bread from the loaf, and asked, “Is that your stallion in the stables, my lord? The big black one?”
“Aye, lad, that is my beast,” was the reply.
“Why are his hooves so shiny?” Brynn wanted to know.
“Because I polish them with olive oil,” Emrys Llyn told Brynn.
“Why?”
“Because he likes it, and because it makes him look even more beautiful,” the Lord of the Lake told the boy.
“Oh.” Brynn had never heard of a horse, especially a large warhorse, who liked having shiny hooves.
“And it is good for his hooves,” Emrys Llyn continued. “It keeps them from becoming too brittle.”
“Ahh,” Brynn answered. Now that made sense.
The Lord of the Lake chuckled. “Your son will be a practical man,” he said to his host. “I admire and appreciate that.”
“He gets it from both his mother and from me,” Merin Pendragon replied.
The servants brought in the food, and as Argel had said, the meal was simple, consisting of only three courses. There was fresh trout, pickled eel, and a salted cod in a cream sauce for the first offering. The second was made up of roasted capon, roasted lamb, a large ham, a rabbit pie, and a pottage of stewed vegetables. Lastly came a large hard yellow cheese, and a bowl of pears. There was bread upon the table as well as a large crock of sweet butter. The food had no need of spice, for it was fresh. New cider, beer, and wine were offered as well.
Emrys Llyn ate with a good appetite and complimented the Dragon Lord on the quality of his wine. Then he told Argel, “Lady, the meal may be simple, but it is well cooked, and most tasty. I cannot complain of your wifely skills in managing your servants. I can but hope your daughter is as proficient when she is running my household.” And he smiled at his hostess.
Argel smiled, pleased by the compliment, and the sincerity in his tone. “I thank you, my lord, and you may rest assured that Maia is an excellent housewife.”
The rest of the family waited for the Dragon Lord to say something, but he remained silent on the matter. There was much he needed to know about Emrys Llyn yet, and despite his daughter's obvious love for the man, their union was not yet fact in his mind. But he had to admit that he was already inclined to like the fellow. His lineage dovetailed nicely with Maia's. A descendant of Lancelot du Lac marrying a descendant of the great King Arthur appealed to Merin Pendragon. And yet there was something he could not quite put his finger upon that disturbed him about the man.
After the meal had been consumed, and Brynn and Junia sent to their beds, the others sat about the hearth.
Gorawen said quietly, “Tell me, my lord Emrys, why it is a fine young man such as yourself has not yet been married? And I know we are all curious as to your age.”
“I am five and twenty, lady, and I have been wed twice,” came the startlingly frank answer. “Both of my wives died.”
“You have children?” Gorawen persisted.
“Alas, none,” he answered her.
“What caused the deaths of your wives, my lord?” Argel asked.
“I cannot tell you, lady, for I do not know. Each went to sleep one evening, only to never awaken again. It was disturbing, and very strange.” His handsome face was a bland mask that revealed nothing.
“Were these women ill?” Gorawen inquired.
“Not to my knowledge, lady,” he responded.
“Were they perhaps cursed by an enemy?” she pressed him.
“Lady, I have no enemies that I am aware of, for I keep much to myself as did my antecedents. We are, as you know, magic folk. Ordinary people are usually afraid of us, are they not? You have some magic in you. I see it,” Emrys Llyn said to Gorawen.
“I do,” she admitted, “but you must admit it is strange that two seemingly healthy young women died suddenly in their beds.”
He nodded.
“You will understand we are concerned that something such as that happen to Maia,” Argel spoke up. “She is my only daughter, and I love her with all my heart.”
“Lady, if I could, I should promise you that nothing will happen to her in my care, and I do swear it, but I cannot guarantee it,” Emrys Llyn said. “But the deaths of my first two wives served no purpose that I know of, I tell you honestly. Neither came with a great dowry, nor had powerful family connections. There was no reason for them to be killed. And there were no marks of violence upon their bodies that would have indicated murder.”
“Magic leaves no marks,” Gorawen murmured.
He grew pale at her words, and in that moment Gorawen knew that while he might not be responsible for the deaths of his two previous wives, he did know more than he was admitting. And for whatever reason, he was not willing to speak on it yet. Or perhaps never. She considered telling Merin and Argel of her concerns, but decided she needed to get to know this man better before she spoke. Maia's heart was firmly in his keeping, and Gorawen did not believe anything they said would convince her to refuse this suitor who was as obviously in love with her as she with him.
“Lady, I know not who would practice such magic against me,” Emrys Llyn said quietly. “If indeed magic is involved then I have a hidden enemy.”
“Which brings us back to the matter of my daughter's safety as your wife, my lord,” Merin Pendragon said. “How long ago did these deaths occur?”
“Rosyn was my first wife. I married her five years ago, and she died four months afterwards. I kept a mourning period of one year for her. Then I sought a second wife. Gwynth became my wife two years ago. Her demise came a month afterwards.”
“Were these girls related in any way?” Merin Pendragon asked. There was always the possibility that they were the targets, and not the Lord of the Lake.
“They were neither related by blood nor similar in any way. Rosyn was the child of a northern lord. Her eyes were blue, and her hair light brown. Gwynth had black eyes, and dark hair. Her father was a prosperous merchant in the south,” Emrys Llyn responded to his questioner.
“This is indeed strange,” Argel noted.
“Why do you go on like this?” Maia demanded, and her voice had an almost hysterical edge to it. “I would wed him no matter what you say, or what has happened before. We are meant to be together, and I will allow no one to prevent this union!”
Emrys Llyn reached out and took Maia's hand in his, stroking it as if to soothe her. “Do not be distressed, beloved. Do you not see that your family is but concerned for your welfare? I am too, though I will not leave Dragon's Lair without you. We are indeed meant to be together, and I will do whatever I must to make this happen.”
“Yet if we do not learn why your two previous wives died so suddenly after wedding with you, how can I give my consent to this match?” the Dragon Lord said to them.
Maia looked directly at her father, and he saw the fierce determination in her green eyes. “If you do not allow me to wed with the Lord of the Lake, Father, I will lock myself in my chamber. I will take neither food nor drink, and I will remain there until I die or until you allow us to marry. If you should attempt to break down the door, I will leap from the tower window.” Then she jumped up from her seat by the fire and ran from the hall.
Astounded, they heard her quick footsteps climbing the stairs to the chamber she shared with Junia.
“She does not mean it,” Merin Pendragon said. “Like all young girls she is being controlled by her emotions. In the morning she will awaken refreshed, and this foolishness will be forgotten. She will see the wisdom in our caution. Maia has never been a hysterical girl.” But he himself wondered if he believed his brave words.
His three women looked at one another, knowing better, but deciding silently as one to approach the problem on the morrow when their heads were clear.
Argel stood up. “I will show you to your chamber, my lord,” she said to Emrys Llyn. “Come.”
The Lord of the Lake arose. “I do not know what to say,” he said.
“In the morning we will solve the problem,” Gorawen told him with an encouraging smile.
Emrys Llyn nodded. “Aye, in the morning,” he agreed.
“Ysbail, find your own chamber,” Argel commanded. “Gorawen, take our lord to to your bed, and soothe his anxiety. I need to be alone this night to consider all of this so that the right decision is made for my daughter.” She then moved from the hall, their guest walking in her wake.
Ysbail stood up, looking somewhat aggrieved. “Why does she always ask you to soothe our lord's anxieties?” she demanded. “I am skilled in the arts of passion, too.”
Merin Pendragon laughed. “Indeed you are, my lass,” he said, “but you will harp at me afterwards, and then I shall want to strangle you. Gorawen knows how to please me with both her passion and her speech.” He got to his feet, and gave Ysbail a hearty kiss on the lips. “Another time, my lass, when I am in the mood to do battle with you.” Then with a chuckle he pulled Gorawen to her feet and left the hall with the woman he loved above all others in his company.
Ysbail shrugged. He was honest, was Merin Pendragon. And he was good to her. She had no cause for complaint. Pouring herself another goblet of wine she sought her own bed.
Chapter
8
8
W
hen Argel came down into the hall in the morning after a restless night she found Junia sleeping on the floor by the fire. She was wrapped in a coverlet, and her little face was streaked with the evidence of dried tears. By her was a willow basket piled with her clothing. Argel shook her head despairingly. Maia was not going to be easy in this matter, and had made up her mind. Her daughter could rarely be reasoned with when she came to a decision in which she strongly believed. Argel reached down and gently shook Junia by her thin little shoulder.
hen Argel came down into the hall in the morning after a restless night she found Junia sleeping on the floor by the fire. She was wrapped in a coverlet, and her little face was streaked with the evidence of dried tears. By her was a willow basket piled with her clothing. Argel shook her head despairingly. Maia was not going to be easy in this matter, and had made up her mind. Her daughter could rarely be reasoned with when she came to a decision in which she strongly believed. Argel reached down and gently shook Junia by her thin little shoulder.
“Wake up, child,” she said softly. “ 'Tis morning, and the hall will soon bustle.”
Junia's eyes opened slowly, and seeing Argel she began to weep as she sat up, clutching the coverlet to her. “Maia put me from our chamber and said she is going to kill herself. Oh, Lady Mother, what is happening? I am so afraid!”
Argel felt her anger rise. How could her daughter frighten her little sister in so cruel a manner? Maia deserved a beating for this unkindness! “It is all right, Junia,” she comforted the girl, drawing her up and into an embrace. “Your sister is driven by her desire to have what she will have at all costs. She is in love and so has locked herself in the tower, and says she will take neither food nor drink until we allow her to marry the Lord of the Lake,” Argel explained. “She says if we do not she will throw herself from the tower, but she will not, I promise you. She is being silly and foolish because she is very much in love with Emrys Llyn. But your father and I worry that the Lord of the Lake has had two wives who died under mysterious circumstances. We must satisfy ourselves that Maia will be safe as his wife, and in his care. He has much magic about him, yet he cannot explain the demise of his previous wives.”
“Maybe he does not know why they died,” Junia said innocently.
“So he says,” Argel responded.
“I like the Lord of the Lake,” Junia told the older woman.
“Do you?” Argel found the young girl's response interesting.
“I do not think he would lie to you and father,” Junia continued. “He loves Maia greatly.”
“I know,” Argel replied.
“But he has such sad eyes,” Junia noted.
“Why, child, what an observant little puss you are,” Argel said with a small smile. Sometimes innocents like Junia saw more clearly than did adults. She hugged the girl. “Take your possessions and run along to your mother's chamber. Tell her I have said you are to sleep with her until this matter with Maia is straightened out.”
“Yes, Lady Mother,” Junia said, and picking up the willow basket she left the hall.
“I heard,” Gorawen told Argel as she came from the shadows of the hall. “I had not realized before this what a thoughtful child Junia is. She is nothing at all like her mother.”
“Nay, she is not. Thank God it will be several years before we must go through this matching game again,” Argel said with a gusty sigh. “First all the drama about Averil last year, and now my Maia.” She sat down in her place at the high board, and waved Gorawen to her place there.
Gorawen nodded in agreement. “Merin is soothed, and sleeping now. He is very concerned by all of this, and of a mind to refuse the Lord of the Lake.”
“What do you think?” Argel asked her friend.
“Common sense would dictate he is right,” Gorawen answered, “but I nonetheless think he is wrong. Maia loves Emrys Llyn, and he her. I can sense no evil, no malice at all in him. His bloodline is impeccable. A match between Arthur's descendant, and Lancelot's is perfect. What children they may have!”
“But what of her safety?” Argel said.
“I will weave a spell about her that should protect her and keep her safe from any black magic. And being now warned Emrys Llyn will keep her safe from any physical threats,” Gorawen replied. “You know your daughter, Argel. She is as stubborn as her father. More so. She will do exactly as she says. She will throw herself from that tower if Merin does not permit this marriage. Our good lord stands between two large rocks, and the only way out for him, if he does not wish his daughter's death on his conscience, is to acquiesce as gracefully as he can. It will be our task to see that he does.” She smiled. “It will not harm Maia to go a few days without food, and I know for a fact that there is a pitcher of water in her chamber. It is there for washing, but I believe she will use it to assuage her thirst.”
“Thank God and his Blessed Mother for your sensible nature,” Argel said. “I remember how calm and accepting you were of Averil's marriage.”
“Averil had no choice. Her fate was planned at her birth whatever she might think.” Gorawen smiled again. “And while Rhys FitzHugh is no great lord, he is the lord and master of Everleigh now. And Averil has done her duty and produced a son for him. No, all is as it should be for my daughter, and will be for yours, Argel.”
Ysbail now bustled into the hall, her color high. “What is this? Your proud daughter has forced my child from their chamber! I will not have it!”
“Calm yourself,” Argel advised Ysbail. “It will be for but a short while. Maia will sulk, but you know it will all end well.”
“If matters not to me if she marries that sorcerer, or throws herself out the window,” Ysbail said meanly as she seated herself. “Junia will have the tower chamber to herself at long last. It is past time my child came into her own.” She reached for the hot cottage loaf, and tore off a chunk.
“What a hard heart you have,” Gorawen said, sipping at her cup. “Have you no care for Maia?”
“Maia is the heiress,” Ysbail said. “She has a fine suitor, and her dowry will consist of land as well as livestock. Her suitor is a man of good lineage. Why should I feel sorry for her? My poor Junia, the youngest of our lord's daughters, will have little to recommend her, I fear. Neither of your daughters has helped her cause at all! Averil is wed to a bastard who would have lived his life as a bailiff if it had not been for his sister's convenient death,” she sneered, “and as for Maia, she is determined to wed a man of dubious reputation despite his bloodline. This does not bode well for matching my daughter, does it?” Buttering her bread with her thumb, she shoved it into her mouth.
“You may rest assured that our lord Merin will do every bit as well by Junia as he has done with Averil and Maia,” Argel said stiffly.
“Humph!” Ysbail replied. “That hardly reassures me given their circumstances.” She reached for a hard-boiled egg from a wooden bowl on the table and began to peel it.
“Averil's dowry was a fine one,” Gorawen said. “Both cattle and sheep, and fifteen silver pennies.”
“Silver pennies? There was silver in her portion?” Ysbail had not known this.
“Merin puts aside a silver penny on each girl's natal day,” Gorawen murmured. “You didn't know? Junia now has eleven silver pennies in her dower portion. If she weds at fifteen as did Averil, there will be fifteen silver pennies along with her share of livestock.” She smiled sweetly at Ysbail.
“But Maia will have more silver, I am certain,” Ysbail said, not satisfied.
“Maia will have fifteen silver pennies, too,” Argel responded. “Merin made no distinction there between his daughters. Maia, of course, will have land, which neither Averil or Junia could expect.”
“Well,” said Ysbail, somewhat mollified, “as long as Junia gets as much livestock as her elder sister, I suppose I have no cause for complaint. But I will not have her stinted because she is the youngest!”
“Since we have several years before Junia can be matched there would seem to be no argument,” Argel remarked.
“I suppose not,” Ysbail agreed grudgingly. Then dipping the peeled egg in the salt dish she popped it whole into her mouth, and ate it.
“Good morning, my women.” The Dragon Lord entered the hall and joined them at the high board. He was followed by their guest. “Where is Maia?”
“She has put Junia from their chamber!” Ysbail said quickly before Argel might answer her husband. “And she has bolted the door behind her.”
“What is this?” The master of the house looked irritated. “Is she not over this pettish behavior?” He reached for his goblet, which Argel quickly filled from the wine pitcher on the table. “You must go to your daughter, wife, and tell the lass that I wish to see her immediately.”
“Do not send Argel on an impossible errand, my lord,” Gorawen said quietly. “Maia will not obey her mother in this matter. She will obey none of us until she has her way. When you allow her to marry Emrys Llyn she will unbar her door, but not, I think until then.”
“Then I must take an ax to the door myself,” the Dragon Lord answered.
“My lord!” Argel cried. “Maia will throw herself from the tower if you do. She has said it.”
“Nonsense!” he replied. “Maia is a sensible girl. She will do no such thing.”
“Our daughter is in love, my lord, and she is much like you. She rarely threatens, but when she does you may be certain that she will follow through with her threat. If you do not think she will, then you know her not,” Argel declared.
“Damn the wench!” the Dragon Lord said.
“Break your fast, my lord,” Gorawen coaxed him, and she drizzled honey into his oat stirabout, and then added a generous dollop of thick golden cream. As he took up his spoon she buttered a piece of the cottage loaf lavishly, and topped it with a slice of tasty yellow cheese, setting it by his hand. Then she peeled one of the hard-boiled eggs, and lay it next to the bread, offering him the salt dish when he reached for the egg.
The Dragon Lord ate in silence now as did Emrys Llyn who had been served as nicely by his hostess. Ysbail, silent for a change, saw that the two men's wine cups were never empty. When they had finally satisfied themselves the Dragon Lord spoke.
“I suppose the first thing is to go with you, Emrys Llyn, to see whether this castle Maia speaks of is real, or but a fantasy.”
“It is very real, my lord, I swear it. And I agree that we should leave this morning. It is a two-day journey, and if Maia really does refuse to eat until you give your consent it will be four to five days before we may return,” the Lord of the Lake said.
“Foolish girl! She needs a good beating,” Merin Pendragon grumbled.
“Fetch the horses,” he called out to no one in particular, but his command would be obeyed, he knew. He put an arm about his wife, and kissed her gently. Then he gave each of his two concubines a kiss in farewell. “I am off to the north and the west, somewhere between the mountains before the sea,” he told them. “At least that is the direction that Emrys Llyn has revealed to me.”
“We will return in five days' time, my lady,” the Lord of the Lake told Argel, and he kissed her hand. He turned to Gorawen. “Watch over Maia, my sister,” he told her, and then turning, he followed his host from the hall.
“Why did he call you his sister?” Ysbail immediately wanted to know.
“Because we both practice magic, and are to a certain degree of magic,” Gorawen answered the woman. “Magical folk have a special bond.”
“What will we do about Maia?” Argel wondered.
“Wait until the noon hour when we will eat our main meal. By then she will be very hungry, for Maia is not used to missing her food. I think if she knows her father has gone with her lover to inspect her future home she can be coaxed into coming out and joining us until they return,” Gorawen said.
“And she can take up her defensive position when her father returns in order to save her dignity.” Argel chuckled.
“You both indulge the lass too much,” Ysbail said. “But at least Junia can return to her rightful place if you can convince Maia to stop being so silly.”
And as Gorawen had predicted Maia was cajoled from her tower chamber by her mother. She came to table at the noon hour, and ate two helpings of lamb stew and almost demolished a cottage loaf by herself. Then she offered to help her sister bring her possessions back to their chamber.
“I thought you no longer loved me because you now love Emrys Llyn,” Junia said tearily, hugging her elder sister.
“What a silly goose you are, Junia! You do not stop loving everyone else because you love a man,” Maia said.
“How am I to know such things?” Junia demanded in a tone so like her mother's that they all laughed, even Ysbail.
“How long did you say it would take father to reach Emrys's castle?” Maia asked.
“The Lord of the Lake said it was a two-day ride,” Argel told her daughter.
“I wish I were with them,” Maia said softly.
“It is a long ride,” Gorawen noted, wondering how Merin was getting on, for the Dragon Lord did not travel far from his lands as a rule.
And Merin Pendragon was wondering as he rode why his daughters could not have wed men who lived closer to his home. Averil was a day and a half's journey, and now possibly Maia would be two days' riding. Still, the land was beautiful, and the weather was not too bad. With the autumn, there was a chill in the air, and he was very relieved when they camped the night in a small dry cave, and could have a fire, for the night was cold. At least they ate well, for his cook had wrapped a roasted chicken in a cloth, along with some oat cakes, cheese, apples, and the remainder of the morning's hard-boiled eggs. Each man carried a flask filled with wine. They ate half the chicken, saving the other half for the next day, and roasted apples in the fire before sleeping.
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