Dragon of the Island (16 page)

Balyn shook his head. “You are the king and
perhaps you can have things the way you wish, but I can tell you
that it is not like that in most marriages.”

“Well, it will be that way in mine,” Maelgwn
said emphatically. “As soon as I am done eating and begin to feel
better, I am going to make that clear to her.”

* * *

Aurora tried to proudly meet the faces of
the people she met in the courtyard, but she could feel her legs
quivering like water beneath her.

It had all started when she woke up. Even
before she was fully aware of things, she had been gripped by a
grim foreboding, and as she stirred, her anxiety grew and grew.
Slowly, terribly, the events of the night before had come back to
her, like a bad dream that lingered even upon waking. Her worst
fears were confirmed when she opened her eyes and saw Maelgwn lying
face-down on the floor. Shaking with panic, she had dressed and
left the tower room as soon as she could.

Her first few minutes in the courtyard had
been spent staring at the sprawling clutter of the fortress. Even
the old, rebuilt town of Viroconium was not as bad as this. The
neatly laid out streets of a Roman garrison were barely visible,
indeed all that Aurora could see that looked Roman at all was the
great hall which had been the garrison’s headquarters and two large
L-shaped buildings which could only have been barracks. The rest of
the complex was a jumble of square timber buildings and round huts
like the ones she had seen in the village.

As Aurora walked along the dusty, unpaved
pathways—which undoubtedly turned into masses of mud when it
rained—she tried to guess the purposes of the buildings: there
would be storerooms and granaries, stables, a smithy, an armory, a
creamery and bakehouse, and sheds for housing animals. Elwyn had
told her that Caer Eryri was a nearly self-sufficient settlement.
If they had to, the people here could get along without trading for
anything except wine, spices—and judging from the poor farmland
along the river—grain.

Self-sufficient or not, the fortress was
nothing like her father’s villa. There were no gardens, no
orchards, no paved courtyards or walkways. The windows of all the
buildings, including the tower, were unglazed and open to the
elements or covered with animal hides. There were no mosaics, no
statues, indeed, Aurora had seen almost no ornamentation on
anything except the clothes and jewels the Cymru wore and the
weapons the men carried.

Continuing to look around at the rough,
rather dirty settlement, Aurora heaved a deep sigh. She felt more
homesick than ever. The memory of her awful fight with Maelgwn
would not leave her, and a cold dull fear throbbed in her empty
stomach. She had insulted her husband, mocked him and rejected his
sexual advances. Everything bad that a woman could do to her
husband—except for being unfaithful to him—she had done. Soon
Maelgwn would wake up on the cold floor of the bedchamber and
remember, and then he would come looking for her, to punish
her.

She touched her cheek, remembering the
dizzying pain when Maelgwn had hit her before. The spot was still
tender; it had not even healed yet. Maelgwn was so strong; he could
easily kill her if he did not check his blows. Last time he had
acted impulsively, this time he would have time to think over how
she had wronged him. Would that make him temper the pain he caused
her, or spur him on to real cruelty?

Aurora shuddered. Her knees felt weak. She
could try to run, but she could not get far without her horse, and
she was not sure where Paithu was kept. If she tried to escape and
Maelgwn caught her, it would go even worse with her. There was also
her father’s gentle admonition to consider. He expected her to
fulfill her part of the marriage agreement. Refusing her husband
his marital rights might be grounds for Maelgwn to break the
marriage contract. If that happened there would likely be war.

Aurora sighed as she reached what appeared
to be a spring, bubbling up from a crick in the rocks on the far
end of the fortress. No doubt this convenient source of fresh water
was the reason this site had been chosen for the fort. A slave girl
with brilliant red hair was collecting water from the spring in a
large gray pottery vessel. She looked up at Aurora, uneasily,
almost hostilely, and then stepped aside to let Aurora help herself
first. Aurora nodded politely at the girl—admiring her vivid
hair—and then bent down to cup some water in her hands.

“Here, my lady, use
my
cup.”

Aurora turned to see the smiling face of a
soldier she recognized from the feast.

“You should not be waiting upon yourself,”
he said softly, his clear blue eyes looking into hers. “Do you not
have a maid to draw water for you?”

“I did not want to bother anyone so early,”
Aurora said shyly. “It seems many people are sleeping late
today.”

“I would be sleeping too, if I did not have
to leave to go back to my home,” the young man answered wearily.
“The excitement of being a soldier is over for now; it is time for
me to go home and see if we have a herd left to keep us through the
winter.”

“Are you a shepherd?”

“Aye, and we have cattle too.” The young man
smiled shyly at her; he seemed surprised to be talking so casually
to his new queen.

Aurora drank gratefully from the soldier’s
cup and then looked at him appraisingly. “I need to wash. Could you
get me a rag or something I could use.”

The soldier looked doubtful. It was clear he
was not used to such requests. Then his face brightened. “I’ll be
back,” he said as he ran toward the old barracks.

In a few moments he returned, waving a scrap
of cloth triumphantly. “Will this do?”

“What is it?” Aurora asked as she looked at
the torn, but clean piece of fabric.

“A bandage,” the soldier answered
cheerfully. “We suffered few wounds in this last campaign; there
are plenty left.”

Aurora smiled back, and bent down to soak
the rag in the icy water. It was not as good as a real bath, but at
least her face felt refreshed. It was nice, too, to have a man wait
upon her and smile at her.

“Thank you,” she said to the young man as
she turned to go. “I hope you find everything is well when you
return to your home.”

As she walked back toward the tower, Aurora
found that some of her confidence was returning. The young soldier
had treated her like a queen—she
was
a queen—although for a
moment she had forgotten.

For some reason the story of Marcus’s
grandmother flashed into her mind. Grimelda had been a queen too,
and when the Romans defeated her people, she had gone to her
captors proudly. From the way Marcus told the story, she must have
been an impressive sight—her white skin gleaming with gold, silver
and amethyst jewelry, her silvery blond hair shining and her blue
eyes as cold and regal as Egyptian faience beads. No wonder Marcus
^ grandfather had fallen in love with her and made her his private
concubine against the orders of Rome!

Aurora decided that she, too, would go to
her judgment with her head held high and looking her best. She
might not be able to make Maelgwn forgive her, but at least he
would not pity her. She would act like a queen.

Aurora hurried back to the tower room. The
door was slightly ajar, and it opened with a creaking sound as
Aurora pushed it. With relief, she saw that Maelgwn was gone.
Aurora walked in and surveyed the cluttered room with dismay. She
was looking for her comb and hair ornaments when Gwenaseth knocked
softly and entered the half-open door.

“Good morning,” Gwenaseth said cheerfully.
“How do you feel? Has the wine given you a headache?”

“Aye, a little one.”

Gwenaseth shook her head. “This room looks
as if the feasting and merrymaking had been held in here.”

Aurora said nothing. She did not want
Gwenaseth to guess how badly things had gone with Maelgwn.
Gwenaseth had been so shocked by Aurora’s anger the day before. She
would never understand the frustration that had driven Aurora to
treat Maelgwn so hatefully last night.

Gwenaseth noticed Aurora’s pale face and
subdued manner.

“What is wrong?” she asked. “You don’t seem
very happy this morning, Aurora.”

“I... Maelgwn and I quarreled last
night.”

To Aurora’s surprise, Gwenaseth did not seem
disturbed.

“It is not unexpected that you quarreled. I
saw how Maelgwn was grabbing you. I would hardly be surprised if
you were offended by his crude behavior. Why, if Elwyn were to ever
touch me so... I am afraid I would slap his face in front of
everyone!”

Aurora looked at her maid uneasily. It was
nice that Gwenaseth was sympathetic, but she had no illusions as to
how far that sympathy went. Gwenaseth had no idea how she had
defied and insulted Maelgwn.

“Gwenaseth,” she said softly. “Please stop
straightening the room and come help me. I want to look my best
when Maelgwn returns.”

* * *

Maelgwn walked to the tower with his long,
restless stride. He felt much better after a breakfast of sausages,
barley bread, goat’s cheese and figs, and he could almost forget
the nagging ache in his head.

But his anger toward Aurora was still keen.
He nursed it—thinking about her cutting words, imagining how
foolish she had made him look as he chased her drunkenly around the
small tower room. Aye, she would have to be made to understand just
how little power she had as a woman. If he did not thwart her
independent ways now, she might end up like Esylt, always trying to
manipulate him and sometimes succeeding.

Yet, even as he climbed the tower stairs,
some of Aurora’s words stirred doubts in Maelgwn’s mind. She had
ridiculed his lovemaking. Was it really true that she had found his
caresses crude and disgusting? No woman had ever complained about
his way in bed before, but what did that mean? It wasn’t likely
that any other woman would be brave enough to challenge the king’s
sexual prowess.

Maelgwn pushed the disturbing thoughts away.
He knew Aurora had wanted him, more than once. He could still
recall the feel of her fine-boned, silky body melting at his touch,
the way she pushed her slender hips up to meet him eagerly. She had
only said those things to hurt him, he was sure of it. Maelgwn set
his mouth grimly. Aurora was nothing but a defiant, spoiled little
minx, and she badly needed to be frightened into realizing her
place as his wife.

When he opened the door Aurora was waiting
for him in a creamy white dress Maelgwn had not seen before. Her
hair was arranged in the long braids the Cymru wore, and her neck
and wrists were loaded with jewelry. When she saw his face, all the
blood seemed to drain out of her cheeks, and she brought her hand
to her mouth as if to smother a gasp.

“My lord,” she said in a stricken
whisper.

Despite himself, Maelgwn was touched. It was
clear that Aurora had not guessed how hard he had fallen, and she
was obviously concerned for him. All at once, he could see their
fight differently. He
had
been drunk and crude, and part of
Aurora’s rejection might have been out of fear of him. Damn Esylt!
She had done it again. If she had not taunted him into such a rage,
he would have never gotten drunk and behaved so badly.

Maelgwn hesitated, trying to decide what to
do.
Should
he beg Aurora’s pardon and let their fight be
forgotten? Or should he teach her a lesson as he warned Balyn he
would do? Instinct warred with his soldier’s training, but in the
end, the memory of his mother and sister’s mocking words about weak
men won out.

Maelgwn moved toward Aurora, keeping his
face stern. He stopped in front of her and reached down and pulled
her head up by the hair. Aurora gasped.

“Aye,” he said softly. “You would do well to
be afraid of me. There are many men who would punish your insolent
tongue with their fists.”

Aurora held her breath, and Maelgwn reached
out to stroke her cheek with a callused finger.

“Do not think that I check my blows out of
pity or kindness, Aurora,” he warned. “It’s true I can’t afford
rumors that I abuse you to reach your father, nor do I like the
idea of talk within Gwynedd that the king has trouble with his new
foreign wife. But if I thought beating you would make you
understand, I would do it.”

Aurora flinched, and Maelgwn continued
grimly. “I have found that mercy can be a more potent weapon than
violence, especially with women. I will only warn you this time,
and I will choose to forget the things that went on between us last
night. But do not be mistaken, from now on you must obey me and
honor me as your husband in all ways.”

Aurora nodded slowly, letting her pent-up
breath escape in a gasp. She had the feeling of coming face-to-face
with some deadly force and then having it move on, passing her
by.

But Maelgwn was not done. He reached to
touch her dress. It was gathered at the neck, and he fumbled to
loosen the tie that held it there. The dress slid down on one
shoulder and partially revealed her breasts while Maelgwn watched
with a cool possessive gaze.

“You have said you do not desire me, Aurora.
So be it. But do not forget that I am the only man who is allowed
to touch you... ever.” Maelgwn pulled the dress tight so that the
fabric dug into Aurora’s shoulder. “Do not think of betraying me,
Aurora, or you will find me not so forgiving.”

Maelgwn released her and began to undress.
“Now,” he said in a whisper. “Now we will make up for last
night.”

Aurora hastened to undo her clothes and take
off the cumbersome jewelry, while he also undressed. She wondered
with a spasm of fear if he would be rough, taking forcefully what
had been denied him the night before, but he approached her slowly,
almost tentatively, and began to kiss her with a light teasing
pressure. His fingers touched her throat very gently, caressing the
graceful hollows there, playing with her earlobes and the downy
nape of her neck. He was stroking her as one would a pet dog,
finding the sensitive, secret parts of her he had not taken time
with before. He nibbled at her ear, penetrating the whispering
darkness there with his tongue. Aurora’s chest heaved convulsively
and she bit her lips to keep from crying out. She had not expected
this delicious tenderness. Her whole body was weak with desire.