The Legend of Lady Ilena (21 page)

“Let’s get her to the chariot,” Spusscio says. “She needs broth and a warm bed.”

We place her, still wrapped in the ox hide, on the floor of the chariot. I brace myself across the open back and hold her head in my lap. Cormec ties my horse’s rein to the chariot rim and steps over me to get in the driver’s position.

Spusscio rides ahead. Cormec holds the horses to a
slow walk until we reach a smooth surface, then speeds them toward the entrance to the fortress.

At Ryamen’s house Spusscio has a fire blazing and the bedplace ready. The woman working with mortar and pestle at the table is stooped with age. She turns her head to one side and squints up at us as we enter. When she focuses on Cormec with the bundle, she hurries to help us. We lay Ryamen on the bedplace and untie the ox hide.

“I called for Kigva,” Spusscio says. “If anyone can save Ryamen, she can.” Kigva lays her head on Ryamen’s chest and listens, then peers intently into her eyes. She shakes her head and glares at us. “Poor thing. Is this Ogern’s doing?”

I nod. “Yes. He must have taken her there seven days ago.”

Spusscio says, “He would have kept her alive to try to learn what she knows about Lady Ilena.”

“Hmpf! Barely alive, I’d say.” She turns back to her patient and strokes her forehead. Her voice is tender as she continues, this time to Ryamen. “I’ll try, old friend. We’ve had many bedside vigils together. This one I’ll stand alone.”

I blink back tears. There is no doubt Ryamen is in good hands.

Cormec speaks from the doorway. “Is there anything else, Spusscio?” He turns to me. “Lady?”

I shake my head.

Spusscio leaves the fire and joins Cormec. “Come
with me to Belert, if you will. We must tell him we’ve found Ryamen.”

I watch for a time as Kigva tends Ryamen. She gives her a warm herb potion and watches carefully after each spoonful to be sure that Ryamen swallows it.

“Can I help?” I ask.

Kigva says, “No, lady. There is little to do but watch. I’ll not leave her.”

Ryamen’s small house feels comfortable and safe. I am reluctant to leave, but I fear I am in the way here. “I’ll look back in, then, from time to time,” I say.

Kigva nods. “I’m sure Spusscio will also. I’ll see that you’re called if she awakens.”

I look for a quiet place where I can be alone. The ladder to the ramparts is nearby, and I think of yesterday’s struggle as I climb. Ogern’s dirk against my neck and his strong arm binding my arms to my body are memories that won’t fade for a long time.

The sky is cloudy, and there is a sharp wind off the sea. Last night Lenora spoke of snow, and those who rode with me from Dun Dreug prepare to leave at first light tomorrow. I try to keep walking past the place where Ogern fell, but something forces me to stop and look down to the rocks.

I glance quickly and look back at the sea. I realize that I didn’t see a dark form below. I look again, this time carefully. The tide has risen during the night and washed the body away. It is a relief to know it is gone,
but the picture of Ogern sprawled motionless on the rocks will haunt me forever.

I stroll along the walltop and let the sea wind carry my thoughts away.

Durant’s voice startles me. “I’ve been looking for you.”

I turn to face him. The pain still stabs when I look into his eyes. Soon he will leave to join his family, and I can try to forget him.

He seems uncertain of what he will say. He starts, “You have found what you sought.”

“Perhaps,” I say. “But I still don’t know who my mother is, or why I was sent away.”

“As chief of Dun Alyn, you have a place. And you will have suitors. Your choice, I suppose, of any man in Britain.”

I don’t want any man in Britain. I want only one. The sea wind buffets us, the surf roars below, and the bustle of the fortress seems far away. The idea that I could be a chief fades like a dream at daylight. The only realities here are the man beside me and the feelings I have for him.

He goes on. “I hoped, when you were without lineage or position, that you would come to care for me. I thought to ask you to journey to the South to meet my family.”

I study his face. There is no pretense there. I wait for him to go on.

“But now I understand,” he says, “that things have changed. You must think of Dun Alyn. And you will need to arrange a proper marriage. I have no large holdings, no great wealth. Hadel is a small fortress with barely fifty warriors at my call.”

“Your family,” I say. “What would they think of me?”

He smiles. “My mother would welcome you. And my son would love you.”

I wait, but he says no more. At last I ask the question I have agonized over for days. “And your wife?”

He looks puzzled. “My wife is dead. She died five years ago when the child was born. Why did you think I had a wife?”

“I—” I stop. My face begins to burn from more than the wind. “I overheard Hoel mention your son, and I assumed …” I look down. He can have little doubt about my feelings now.

His voice is soft. I have to strain to hear it above the wind. “Is that why you changed? You avoided talking with me and hurried on when I tried to walk beside you.”

I nod.

“I thought it was because you had found your true place. Because you knew it would be important to find a proper husband.”

I shake my head, still without speaking. I don’t trust my voice right now.

He reaches out and lifts my chin so my eyes meet
his. He speaks slowly, with deep feeling. “When my wife died, I thought that I would never care for another woman. That kind of loss is too cruel. When I met you, I began to think of marriage again.”

I still dare not speak, but my eyes must tell him how I feel.

He continues, “I do not want a pledge from you now. You need time to learn what it means to rule Dun Alyn. Talk with Belert about the kind of marriage a chief should make.”

“I will not make a marriage I do not want,” I say.

He smiles. “Do not be hasty. There are many men in Britain. You may well meet one who drives me from your mind.”

I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”

“Still, I want you to be sure. This is a difficult time for you. I will return when the snows melt from the passes. We will talk then. If you do not wish to marry me, I will always be your brother as I pledged.”

“I will wait for you, then, in the spring.” I want to say more, but I’m not sure just what.

“Ilena!” A shout comes up to us over the sound of the wind. It is Belert. “Come. Ryamen is awake.”

R
YAMEN IS PROPPED UP ON A PILE OF BEDSKINS
. H
ER FACE
is still pale, but her eyes are open and alert. She makes a weak motion toward me. I reach out and clasp her dry hand with my own cold ones. She clutches my fingers firmly and does not release them when I try to let go.

The room is crowded. Kigva hovers over a tiny pot at the fire. Three I do not know—two men and a woman, all of Belert’s age or older, all with an air of authority—sit on benches pulled close to the bedplace. Belert sets a small stool beside me and motions me to sit down. He takes a place on the bed, at Ryamen’s feet. Durant stops at the door.

“Come on in, Durant,” Belert says. “We have three here from Dun Alyn, but a witness from Arthur’s table is more than welcome.”

Durant finds a clear spot on the floor stones near the entrance and sits, leaning against the wicker wall.

“I feared for you.” Ryamen’s voice is stronger than I expected. The others shift and lean closer. She looks only at me. “I could not get back. Resad was at the gate when I tried to return to you.”

“I was fine,” I say. “You rescued me when I could not save myself and led me to shelter.”

“You are your mother’s child,” she says.

The words do not alarm me. I know that she will not name Grenna as my mother, and I have no idea what she will tell us. Yet I am content here. I belong at Dun Alyn just as I belonged with Moren and Grenna in the Vale of Enfert. There is peace and safety in this room. I take a deep breath and settle myself on the stool.

The scent of herbs in the room brings thoughts of Grenna. It is thyme I smell, thyme and borage and something I don’t recognize. But the thyme is strongest. Thyme wasn’t known to the women in the Vale of Enfert, and Grenna couldn’t find any in the fields around us. I remember Moren’s return with Cryner. After the commotion I made over the new puppy, Moren pulled a parcel from his pack and handed it to Grenna.

“I brought you a gift also. From …” I remember how he started to name someone, then stopped and said, “From your good friend.”

It was a bundle of thyme, dry and fragrant. Grenna tied a piece of cloth around the twigs to catch the seeds. When spring came, we planted thyme in the
corner of our yard; it grows there still. I look around Ryamen’s little room at the bundles and stacks of drying plants and understand now who sent that gift to Grenna.

An elder behind me, the woman, asks, “Tell us first, Ryamen, who put you into the pit and why.”

“Resad and Ogern,” Ryamen answers. “Only I know the truth of Ilena’s birth. As long as I live, Ogern cannot claim Dun Alyn for his granddaughter. They will try again.”

“No,” Belert says. “Ogern and Resad are dead. Will you tell us what you know?”

The room is silent while she considers this. When she speaks, her voice is low. “Ogern was a good Druid in the old days. Resad fed his hunger for power.” Her dark eyes move from one face in the room to another and settle on the elders. “Will you give oath to keep Ilena safe? Do you intend to honor Cara’s wishes?”

I keep my eyes on her face and do not turn to look at those behind me. I hear their murmurs.

“The lady has nothing to fear from me.”

“I pledge to carry out Cara’s wishes in this matter, if we can determine them.”

“Let us hear the truth, old woman.”

Belert says, “I have told these elders, and will tell all in the Great Hall tonight, that Ilena is heir to Dun Alyn. As Moren’s daughter she is the proper successor to Cara.”

Ryamen looks at him in silence for a time, then brings her eyes back to me. “Ilena is not Moren’s daughter.”

It takes a few minutes to understand what she has said. I keep my eyes on hers and draw strength from her steady stare while I try to take in this new blow. In all the agony of accepting the news that Grenna is not my mother, I never even considered that Moren might not be my father.

The house in Enfert, so like this one, comes into my mind again. The love I knew there was the love of parents for a child. No matter what I learn now, when I hear the word “father,” I will always picture Moren; and when I hear the word “mother,” I will always see Grenna’s kind face smiling at me.

There is a shifting behind me. Someone lets out a noisy breath. I can see Belert’s face fall. It will be difficult to name me chief if the people of Dun Alyn are not satisfied that I am the true heir.

“Ilena …” She stops and closes her eyes.

Kigva pushes past me with a bowl of warm water. I try to release Ryamen’s hand to move out of the way, but her grasp is firm. I lean to one side so the healer can work. She speaks softly to her patient. “You must go slowly, old one. Another would be dead by now. You are too weak to talk.”

We wait while she bathes Ryamen’s face with the cloth and adjusts the skins behind her back. When
Kigva moves out of the way, I free one hand and smooth Ryamen’s brow with gentle strokes. Her eyes flutter open.

I say softly, “Can you speak now, Ryamen? If not, it can wait until you are stronger.” My feelings are at war inside me. Part of me wants to know what she will say, but another part throws a fierce wall against the thought that Moren and Grenna are not my parents. Perhaps if she says no more, I can blot this nightmare out.

She turns her head slightly and focuses on my face. “I must speak now.” Her voice is low, and I hear the ones behind me shift and rustle as they bend closer. “I promised Cara. Moren promised also, and he is gone. I must…” Her voice trails off.

Belert stands and sighs. “We should go. It is cruel to keep her from resting.”

“Cruel? Cruel to keep me from speaking, Belert.” Her voice is stronger. “Sit and wait.” She seems to gather herself before our eyes, and she continues. “It was the end of the long winter. Belert was away. The birthing began.”

There is total silence now in the crowded house.

She rests a moment, then goes on. “It was a hard birth. Grenna and I were with her.” She closes her eyes again.

I hear one of the elders behind me whisper, “She is telling of Miquain’s birth. She is confused.”

I can see the frown on Belert’s face as he turns to the speaker. It is quiet again.

Ryamen opens her eyes and continues in a steadier voice, “It was not her time, though she was very large. At last a baby was born, a beautiful girl.”

There is an impatient rustle behind me and another glare from Belert.

Ryamen breathes deeply for a few moments before she speaks. “Grenna took the baby, and I started to press Cara’s abdomen to force the afterbirth.”

Belert’s thoughts seem far away now. How painful this must be for him, with Cara and Miquain both gone.