Dragon of the Island (11 page)

“I think many men will follow in the king’s
footsteps and marry at the summer festival of Lughnasa,” spoke up
Gareth, the commander of Maelgwn’s cavalry.

“Indeed,” agreed Balyn. “With all our
plunder, almost every soldier can afford to marry his favorite
maiden when we return home.”

“Maybe Elwyn will finally ask for the Lady
Gwenaseth’s hand,” said Evrawc. “It’s clear he is in love with her,
but he is too shy to propose. You should offer her to him as his
bride, Maelgwn,. He could not refuse the king’s gift, and Gwenaseth
is your ward.”

“Aye, it would be good to see Elwyn
married,” agreed Balyn. “It would settle him down, perhaps knock
some of those foolish fancies out of his head.”

Many of the soldiers nodded knowingly.
Despite his impeccable loyalty, Elwyn sometimes seemed too soft for
a king’s companion. Perhaps marriage would help him mature. Balyn
had other reasons for wanting to see the young soldier married off.
More than once when he went back to check on the wagons, he had
found Elwyn deep in conversation with the queen and smiling
delightedly. Balyn feared Elwyn’s kind heart and Aurora’s obvious
loneliness could prove to be a dangerous mixture.

Maelgwn spoke in the low, thoughtful voice
he used when he was planning something. “If many of our soldiers
marry, we will need to expand our workshops. There will be an even
greater demand for plows and harnesses, wool and pottery.”

The men all nodded, and Balyn smiled
enthusiastically.

“With the craftsmen of Viroconium, we could
build more than workshops,” he suggested. “We could even renovate
the fortress itself. I would not mind adding some of the comforts
we saw at Constantine’s villa.”

“Perhaps you would like a bath complex next
to your hut, and a sloe-eyed servant girl to wash you,” Maelgwn
suggested with a sardonic smile. “With such treatment you would
soon grow so fat and lazy I could not take you on campaign except
in a litter.”

Balyn laughed. “With such an easy life, I
would have no desire to be a warrior at all. I would be content to
stay at Caer Eryri and watch the hawks and kites float on the
downdraft all day.”

“You are speaking as though we had been at
peace for years,” Evrawc said irritably. “There will always be war.
The Irish raids are as inevitable as the tide, and the Cymru
chieftains are always looking for an excuse to rebel. And
Constantine—he was hardly a willing ally. Even now he may be
joining forces with Gwyrtheryn to the south and plotting to regain
control of his lands.”

“Constantine wouldn’t do something so
foolish,” scoffed Balyn. “Gwyrtheryn is well known as a treacherous
liar. For all his weakness as a battle commander, Constantine
seemed like a shrewd man and not one to enter into a dangerous
alliance. Why, it would be a lamb making a pact with a wolf.”

“Aye, Balyn, but Constantine has lost a
great deal, and bitter men are prone to errors in judgment when
they seek revenge,” answered Maelgwn.

“But we were more than generous with
Constantine’s people,” Gareth broke in indignantly. “Not a man was
slain, and we asked only for tribute and an alliance sealed with a
royal wedding.”

“My marriage is the key,” Maelgwn agreed
thoughtfully. “It is what has angered Constantine and also what
should stay his hand against us.”

“You do not think that Constantine would
risk an invasion of Gwynedd because of his daughter?” asked
Evrawc.

“No, I do not. I am gambling on
Constantine’s love for Aurora. But I could be wrong too; we must
always be ready for war.”

“I don’t understand a man who sets such
store by a mere girl. Is she not a princess, born and bred to be
married off in the best arrangement her father could make?” asked
Evrawc.

“Aye. And it was not so bad an arrangement
for Constantine. He got to stay alive,” laughed Balyn.

There was laughter all around. Constantine’s
wounded pride seemed rather comical to them all.

“But what of the northern borders? Have you
heard word from Cunedda regarding the Picts?” asked Rhys, a small
intense man who often served as a messenger because he was able to
read and write.

“No, no word,” Maelgwn answered. “I expect
to visit Cunedda before Lughnasa, but so far I have not heard of
war. Perhaps this will be a peaceful summer after all. Even the
coasts are quiet. The Irish raiders must be busy elsewhere.”

“Another reason to celebrate!” said Balyn,
lifting up the wineskin. “It’s a bit late for a toast,” he said,
sadly shaking the nearly empty container. “But I will propose one
anyway. To the Cymru—our loved ones and families, to our great king
Maelgwn, and of course, to his new and lovely queen!”

It was late when Maelgwn made his way to his
tent. On the way, he breathed in the cool mountain deeply, hoping
it would clear his head. He had imbibed the mead sparingly, but it
was potent stuff, and he was tired. The torch by his tent
flickered, but there was no light inside. Was she asleep? He ducked
into the tent and paused a moment, trying to see. There was no
sound, no movement. He undressed, and eased himself slowly onto the
bedplace. He could smell her—the rich, hypnotic perfume he had
first noticed when in her father’s garden. He had thought then that
it was the roses. He inhaled deeply, feeling the rush of desire in
his body.

She still had not moved. He rolled toward
her and touched first her hair and then a silken shoulder. How soft
her skin was. In the daylight he had been so aware of her beauty he
had not really noticed the exquisite smoothness of her flesh. Now
that he could not see her, he could savor the scent and feel of her
even better. His fingers drifted down her back. She did not stir or
turn toward him, and he wondered again if she were asleep. His
fingers touched her naked hips. There would be no fumbling with
clothes tonight, no heavy fabric in the way of his caresses.

He played with the soft curves of her bottom
and nuzzled her neck. Aurora stirred slightly. He rolled her over
and began to mouth her breasts. Deliciously round and firm they
were—he could not help kissing them greedily and taking the taut,
swollen nipples in his mouth one at a time to suck. Was it his
imagination or did she suppress a moan? His mouth moved down,
slowly licking and kissing the way down her belly. She tensed
slightly when he reached the soft hair, but he pushed her thighs
apart abruptly, exposing the warm, wet opening there to the cool
night air.

A pity it was so dark. He would have liked
to see the expression on her face. She was not asleep now! He
breathed on her gently and felt her whole body quiver. Then he
pressed his mouth against the hot, sweet wetness of her. She cried
out, a light, airy moan of surprise. Aye, he had her now. He could
feel the ripples of pleasure coursing through her body. He was
overcome, himself. She was so wet, so soft, so dizzyingly female.
He could wait no longer. He raised himself over her and pushed in,
penetrating deeply.

Ahhhh! The gods help him! Such sweet
oblivion! Their bodies matched so perfectly... his hardness within
her softness. Aye, this it what he had wanted all along. This was
the way to deal with a woman.

Aurora stared into the darkness. Her body
felt wonderful, achingly satisfied. She had never dreamed a man
could make her feel like that. Maelgwn’s mouth had been magic,
licking waves of fire through her body. The convulsive vibrations
still seemed to come from deep inside of her. Her breath was coming
in long shudders, her heart still pounding. She was spent and
weary, but her mind would not let her rest. What had this man done
to her to make her feel so utterly, completely overcome? It was
embarrassing—and frightening. It seemed he had only to touch her or
kiss her and all thoughts fled from her mind. When she was with him
she did not act like a princess or a queen. She was more like a
slave girl submitting meekly to her master’s wishes!

Aurora turned on her side, trying to relax.
She could hear Maelgwn’s breathing clearly, heavy and contented.
The sound irritated her. He was so sure of her, so sure he could
control her. No doubt he had only pretended to be sorry about their
fight, cleverly placating her so she would welcome his
lovemaking.

Aurora got up restlessly. She pulled on her
shift and went outside. The night was cloudy, dark, silent. It
seemed even the sentries dozed. She noticed a torch still burning
on a stake by the tent, flickering faintly in the breeze. A thought
came to her—born of frustration and curiosity. She pulled the torch
from the rag that held it and entered the tent. She pulled back the
blankets and shone the light upon the form of her husband.

In sleep—with the fierce, deep-set eyes
closed in misty shadows and the hard jaw relaxed—Maelgwn’s face
looked surprisingly young. His nose was straight, with gently
flaring nostrils. His mouth was slightly wide, drooping now with
sweet sensuality. Aurora recalled that Maelgwn’s mouth could also
look brutal, as it had the first time she saw him. His jaw was
square and strong, his finely muscled neck proud and royal.

Her eyes moved down his body to his smooth
chest, darkened with only a scattering of hair. There was only one
scar on it that she could see—it ran beneath his arm like a wild
river—but his arms were crisscrossed with numerous smaller scars,
healed to a silvery white on his tanned skin.

Her eyes went lower, drawn irresistibly to
his male organs. Despite their intimacy, she had not really gotten
a good look at that part of him. His limp penis, curled up now like
a soft, pink sleeping animal, bore little resemblance to the large
organ which had impaled her earlier. It was fascinating, Aurora
thought, how sleep robbed Maelgwn of his aura of power and danger.
She smiled slightly. The dreaded Dragon of the Island was just a
man, and really a rather young one at that. Maelgwn looked almost
like a boy as he dreamed in the shadows, and she suppressed the
urge to stroke his cheek—darkened now by a day’s whiskers—as she
would caress a sleeping child.

Maelgwn stirred slightly, as if disturbed by
the glare of the torchlight or the cool air on his nakedness.
Aurora hastily took the torch outside and tied it back on the
stake. She crept back into the tent, her heart pounding as she
settled down beside Maelgwn. He rolled over and wrapped a heavy arm
around her. Aurora sighed and snuggled closer. She had almost
fallen asleep when he whispered her name—soft and low—into the
darkness.

The next morning, even before she opened her
eyes, Aurora sensed the weather had changed. A clammy dampness
coated her skin and her thick hair, always unruly, was coiled into
fat curls. There was almost a chill in the air too, even though it
was summer.

She dressed quickly and went out to find a
world thickly shrouded in silvery fog. Voices around her were heard
with startling clarity in the mist, and Aurora was disoriented,
unsure in which direction the rest of the camp lay. She was
grateful to hear Elwyn’s reassuring voice behind her.

“My lady?”

“The fog. It’s so thick. Can we travel in
this?”

“Aye, it will clear as the sun burns it off,
and we are so close to home now the horses could find their way
there without us to guide them.”

Home. The word stuck in Aurora’s throat like
a bite she could not swallow. At least in this mist Elwyn could not
see her cry. If only Maelgwn were near her now. His presence would
have comforted her. But he was already gone.

With much confusion and swearing, the camp
was packed away and the army train set out. Aurora took her place
on her gray horse and followed Elwyn closely as they moved like
ghosts in the thick mist.

“Is weather like this common in your land?”
she asked Elwyn.

“Aye, it is a very wet country, Gwynedd.
That is what makes the land so lush and beautiful. But fog is less
likely in summer, perhaps this comes from being so high in the
mountains.”

High—they were that. It seemed to Aurora
that they climbed with every step, and she felt lightheaded and
short of breath. She marveled at the horses and men who crossed
these highlands so easily. The Cymru were a different kind of
people, hardy and tenacious. No wonder the Romans had made few
settlements in this wild land.

The stony track narrowed so that only one
wagon or two horses could pass, and they finally climbed above the
mist. Aurora wasn’t sure that being able to see clearly was an
advantage. On their left the track fell away so sharply it made her
heart pound. Far below she could see a dramatic valley of thick
forest and the flash of streams and lakes, but looking down made
her dizzy with fear.

“No wonder it is called ‘fortress of
eagles’,” she said softly. “You have to be able to fly to get
there.”

Elwyn laughed. “It’s not much farther, and
the track gets better, truly it does.”

They climbed and finally reached the summit.
Aurora slowed her mare, transfixed. As the sun ate into the mist,
it turned the air around them into a frothy dazzle. Where it had
cleared completely, they could see a huge rainbow arcing
majestically over the mountains. Below, the fog lingered, forming a
steaming pathway across the valley. It seemed to lead to a large
fort in the distance, glowing bronze in the sun.

“It’s so beautiful,” gasped Aurora. “I feel
as if we could step off the mountain and float away into
fairyland.”

Elwyn smiled back at her, intoxicated by the
breathtaking scenery and Aurora’s radiant smile. He had never seen
any woman look as beautiful as the queen did now. Her long hair
floated behind her like the waves of a dark sea, dancing with rich
reddish lights. Her pale face was lit with wonder, and her blue
eyes shone with a luminous, lavender light.

They could not stop long, with the rest of
the baggage train pressing on behind them, and so they quickly
descended into the valley. The world grew gloomy and forbidding
again, and Aurora’s elation vanished.