The Breaking Dawn (The Kingdom of Mercia Book 1) (15 page)

Chapter Twenty-six

Dylan
Swears an Oath

The pyre had burned down to embers when Cynddylan
and his most trusted warriors returned to camp. Nothing remained but hot coals
and drifting smoke. Madog had left this world, both in body and in spirit, and
was now with his forefathers.

Merwenna and her father awaited the returning
warriors. She watched as the Prince of Powys strode across the clearing toward
them. His purple cloak billowed out behind him as he walked. Gwyn followed
close behind.

“Did you find them?” Wilfrid asked, when the prince
stood before them.

Cynddylan nodded. “They are all dead.”

Merwenna’s rush of relief was mingled with an
underlying horror. So much death. It seemed the whole world was awash with
blood.

“What will you do now?” her father continued his
questioning. “Return to Tamworth and demand answers?”

“And give Penda another chance to part my head from
my shoulders?” Dylan gave a cool smile. “I think not. Vengeance is best
delivered cold. Once I reach Pengwern, I will plot my reckoning – not before.
We shall remain here for the rest of today and continue west at dawn.”

“And what of my daughter?” Wil folded his arms over
his chest. Merwenna recognized his stubborn expression and felt her fragile
hopes dissolve. Her father had no intention of letting her get away with
defying him.

“What of her?” the prince raised a dark eyebrow.
“She’s your responsibility, not mine.”

“This is the second time she has run away, with no
thought to the consequences. There will not be a third.” Wil then turned to
Merwenna, ignoring her horrified expression. “You are staying here. I’m not
taking you home.”

“
Fæder!
” Merwenna choked out, barely able to
believe her ears. “You can’t do that!”

“I can – once I can forgive, but not twice. I’ve
had to leave your brother, mother and sister behind to do backbreaking work
while I chased after you. You told me you were sorry for running off to
Tamworth. I see now that you didn’t mean a word of it.”

Merwenna stared at him, her stomach clenching
sickeningly. She had never imagined her kind, loving father could be so cruel.
She had forgotten that he was a warrior at heart, and had the capacity to be
ruthless when pushed.

“I gave you all,” he continued, his hazel eyes
deepening to green with the force of his anger, “and this is how you repay me.
There is no longer a place for you under my roof. You seem so intent in
following your own path – now is your chance. Go with your lover.”

“Those are harsh words, Wilfrid,” Cynddylan spoke
up. “Yet, you must realize that I owe you nothing. I don’t have to take your
daughter with me.”

“You owe her your life,” Wil rounded on the prince.
“Take her back to Pengwern, make her a servant in your hall. You owe her that
much.”

“You would abandon her to people you do not even
know?”

“You brought her home safely to Weyham. I know that
you are not without honor.”

Cynddylan’s lip curled. “Thank you, I am humbled by
your high opinion of me.”

“But I don’t want to go!” Merwenna found her tongue
at last. Panic replaced numbing shock. “Please,
fæder
, don’t do this!”

She stepped toward him, arms outstretched, but he
raised a hand to ward her off. Wil’s gaze was still fixed upon the prince.

“Will you take her into your hall?”

Cynddylan’s mouth thinned slightly, and his gaze
flicked from Wil’s face, to Merwenna’s stricken one. “I suppose she can serve
in my hall. My sister, Heledd, requires a hand-maid. Her cousin, who used to
serve her, wed in the spring. Merwenna can replace her.”

“Do you swear an oath on this?”

The prince’s expression darkened. He glowered at
Wil, but the older man’s gaze did not waver.

“You want rid of your daughter,” Cynddylan reminded
him. “What does it matter if I swear an oath, or not?”

“She dishonored her family and threw away her
future for you.”

“I never asked it of her.”

“That matters not. She has chosen where her
loyalties lie.”

Cynddylan continued to hold Wil’s gaze for a few
moments longer. Then, he glanced back at Merwenna, who watched the exchange
with tears streaming down her face. Never had she felt so insignificant. She
saw from the look on Dylan’s face that he regretted ever setting eyes on her.

 “Very well,” Cynddylan replied, although he was
clearly displeased. “I swear that I will take Merwenna with me, and that she
will be my sister’s hand-maid. I swear it upon my honor.”

Wil nodded, satisfied at last. “And I shall hold
you to it.”

***

“How could you,
fæder
? You humiliated me!”

Merwenna faced her father in the small tent
Cynddylan’s men had erected for them. It was like looking into the face of a
stranger. For the first time, she realized just how bitter betrayal tasted.

 “It’s no more than you deserve,” he countered.
“You have to learn there are consequences to your actions, Merwenna.”

“But, I haven’t lain with him,” Merwenna’s throat
was raw from shouting. “All I did was ride to warn him.”

“A rash and ill-considered act,” he replied, before
sitting down on the furs beside the fire and beginning to unlace his boots.
“You’ve made a fool of me again.”

Merwenna glared at him, ignoring the tears that
coursed down her cheeks. She could still not believe how harsh he was being.
She kept thinking he would reconsider, but hours had passed since Cynddylan had
sworn his oath, and her father showed no signs of relenting. If anything, he
appeared more resolute.

Exhausted, Merwenna flopped down on to her furs.
She shot her father a mutinous look and decided to try another approach.

“
Mōder
will be furious,” she said. If
her feelings did not matter, perhaps her mother’s did. “She will never forgive
you for leaving me here.”

His gaze narrowed at that. “Perhaps, but she will
be reassured when I tell her the Prince of Powys has sworn to look after you.”

Merwenna buried her head in her hands, defeated.
Never had she felt so alone. Her father had been her anchor, the one man whose
love had been unquestioning. She had never known he was capable of dealing out
such harsh punishment.

“You have an independent spirit, Merwenna,” Wil
spoke finally, shattering the weighty silence between them. “So much like your
mother at the same age. But, like her, you have a lot to learn about life – and
people.”

Merwenna winced under his brutal appraisal of her
character. Never, had her father spoken so directly to her. It was true, he had
always indulged her – but those days were clearly at an end.

“You don’t belong in Weyham,” he continued, his
tone softening. “With Beorn gone, there is no future for you there.
Wyrd
is pushing you from the nest – now it’s time to fly.”

“But I don’t belong in Pengwern either,” Merwenna
looked up and her gaze met her father’s once more. “What kind of future awaits
me there?”

“Hand-maid to a princess is an honor,” Wil pulled
off his boots and tossed them into the corner of the tent. “The prince could
have made you a lowly servant – shoveling night soil and scrubbing floors. Be
grateful he did not.”

Chapter Twenty-seven

A
New Beginning

Merwenna watched her father ready his horses for
departure, with a heavy ache in the center of her chest.

Despite that she was still furious with him, she
did not want Wilfrid to leave.

Suddenly, she could not breathe. She wanted to be
back home, in a world that was familiar to her. Instead, she was being forced
to embark on a new life in a new land.

“
Fæder
,” she began hoarsely. She had to ask
him one last time. “Please reconsider.”

Wil turned from where he had just finished
fastening Huginn’s bridle, and regarded her. Unlike his sternness of the day
before, his hazel-green eyes revealed a hint of sadness this morning.

“You know I won’t do that.”

“But I don’t belong in Pengwern, in a king’s hall.”

“Your mother is an ealdorman’s daughter,” Wil
reminded her. “Never forget that noble blood runs through your veins. You will
not be out of place in Pengwern. It may even be the making of you.”

“But will I never see you again?”

Wil held his daughter’s gaze and Merwenna saw the
sadness there intensify. For the first time, she realized he was struggling to
hide his own distress. This was not as easy for him as she had thought.

“Your mother and I will pay you a visit in early
spring,” he murmured. “As soon as the snow melts we will come, I promise you.”

Merwenna blinked back tears and nodded. “Thank
you.”

Wil smiled gently in response. “Stay well, my
daughter. Ride swiftly to Pengwern and I shall see you in the spring – you have
my word.”

Her father’s word was always one she knew she could
depend upon, and so Merwenna nodded, brushing away a tear that had escaped and
was trickling down her cheek. There was no point in weeping now. Her father’s
mind was made up. She would not be returning to Weyham.

She stepped back, and watched Wil swing up onto
Huginn’s broad back. He held the reins in his right hand and led an irascible
Muninn with his left.

Merwenna watched her father ride out of the
clearing, past the last of the tents, and toward the tree line. He did not look
back, and she could see from the set of his shoulders that he was upset. It
took all her willpower not to run after him.

Instead, she remained there, rooted to the spot,
watching until her father disappeared into the trees and was lost from sight.

***

The fire had a mesmerizing effect on Merwenna.

She sat staring, watching the flames dance, and
listening to the lilting rise and fall of Cymraeg around her. She understood
only the odd word, and realized that would pose a problem in Pengwern. Language
would provide another barrier between Merwenna and her new life.

I will have to learn their tongue,
Merwenna resolved, although her mood was such this evening that she could not
dredge up any enthusiasm for it.

She felt worn out, a husk. After her father’s
departure, she had drifted around the camp like a ghost, eventually retiring to
Dylan’s tent where she had slept away the afternoon. The prince had decided to
let his men rest for the day, after an exhausting, sleepless night. Merwenna
had been grateful not to have to move on just yet.

Even so, she had awoken even more exhausted than
before.

“You are tired, Merwenna,” Dylan’s voice
interrupted her introspection. “Why don’t you retire?”

Merwenna’s eyes snapped open and she glanced at the
man seated beside her. Dylan had been quiet this evening. They had not spoken
of the oath he had sworn her father, or what lay ahead. Like her, his gaze had
turned inward.

“I’m exhausted,” she admitted. “Yes, I think I
shall go to bed.”

Merwenna rose to her feet and brushed off her
skirt, before bidding the men seated nearby goodnight in Cymraeg. “
Nos da
.”

Most of them ignored her, while Gwyn gave a
non-committal grunt. Only Owain dignified her with a faint smile. She was not
surprised by the lukewarm reception; few of them wanted her here.

Discouraged, Merwenna turned and made her way toward
Dylan’s tent. Inside, she was surprised to find that Dylan had already made up
their beds – two piles of furs on opposite sides of the fire pit.

That was a relief at least. She had feared that the
prince would take his oath to mean she was his property to do with as he
wished. The separate sleeping arrangements made it appear that Dylan would
leave her be.

Merwenna sat down on the furs and unlaced her boots.
She then undressed down to her long linen under-tunic and brushed out her hair,
using her fingers to remove the tangles and knots. Yawning, she crawled into
the furs and sank into their softness and warmth. Moments later, she fell into
a deep sleep.

Dylan bade his men goodnight and made his way to
his tent. It was late, and the prince longed to stretch out on his furs. They
had an early start the next day, and if they made good time they would reach
Lichfield – Powys’ new eastern border – before nightfall.

Pushing aside the tent flap, Dylan ducked inside.

Merwenna was asleep, and the sight of her made his
breath catch. She lay on her side, her mane of almond-colored hair cascading
over the furs. It was warm inside the tent, and she had kicked the furs aside,
revealing that she slept in the ankle length, sleeveless tunic she wore under
her
wealca
. The tunic had ridden up, revealing her shapely legs.

Dylan paused there, his gaze drinking in the sight
of her. He could see the outline of her nipples through the thin shift, and the
luscious swell of her breast. His mouth went dry and his loins started to ache.
It took all his self-control not to join her on those furs, and rip that tunic
from her body.

Instead, he crossed to his own furs, and started to
undress.

Little witch.

Perhaps sharing a tent was not a wise idea.
Tomorrow night, he would arrange for his men to erect one next to his for
Merwenna for the remainder of the journey. She was too great a distraction to
have sleeping next to him, night after night.

I cannot believe I swore that oath to
her father.

Dylan lay down on his furs and stared up at the
weather-stained hide roof of the tent.

Heledd will not like it.

His sister had a fiery temperament. He did not
imagine she would take kindly to having a Mercian hand-maid. Many in his hall
would not take kindly to having Merwenna amongst them; they would think he had
made her his consort, or that she carried his child. It was likely they would
turn on Merwenna and make her an outcast.

He hoped she had the spine to deal with it all, for
he would not be able to look out for her.

Dylan rolled on to his side, and his gaze traveled
over Merwenna’s prone form, to her face. She looked so young, so vulnerable. He
understood her father’s frustration with her; his need to teach her a lesson.
He just hoped the price would not be too high.

Life in a king’s hall was not for the
faint-hearted.