The Dragon Lord's Daughters (15 page)
Read The Dragon Lord's Daughters Online
Authors: Bertrice Small
But then came the day that Averil Pendragon delivered his son, and old Rhawn, her weathered face wreathed in smiles, put the boy in his arms. Rhys looked down at the infant and for the first time since his sister had died, he smiled. And his eyes met those of Averil's, and she smiled, too. With the birth of this child the past was behind them.
“He's a brawny little lad,” Rhys said, his big finger touching his son's cheek. “What will we call him?”
“Rhys the younger,” she answered quickly. “And in a year or two as God wills it we will give him a sister who we shall call Mary.”
“You are certain of that?” he teased her with another smile.
“I am certain of it,” Averil said, and she wondered if he recalled that it was this very day a year ago that he had stolen her away. “Very, very certain,” she concluded, and Averil Pendragon smiled up at him. He was not a great lord, this Rhys FitzHugh, but he was her husband, her lover and her friend. If there was more to life than this, she knew not what it was. Nor did she care.
Part Two
Maia
Chapter
7
7
T
he Dragon Lord looked about his hall at the worthy young men who had come to seek his daughter Maia's hand in marriage. There was one of the Great Llywelyn's bastards. The lad's mother, a Corbet, was the legitimate daughter of an English Marcher lord, and had been taken years ago in a raid. One of Gorawen's Tewydr cousins had sent a younger son for their inspection. To the Dragon Lord's surprise there were three young men from English Marcher families. Roger Mortimer, Robert FitzWarren, and John Ashley. Any one of them would have been more than suitable. Even the English. But Maia had no interest in any of them, and Merin Pendragon would not force his daughter into marriage. It had frustrated him that his eldest, Averil, had been boxed into a match not of her choosing no matter how well it had worked out. He would see that Maia and Junia made their own choices no matter what others might think of his decision.
he Dragon Lord looked about his hall at the worthy young men who had come to seek his daughter Maia's hand in marriage. There was one of the Great Llywelyn's bastards. The lad's mother, a Corbet, was the legitimate daughter of an English Marcher lord, and had been taken years ago in a raid. One of Gorawen's Tewydr cousins had sent a younger son for their inspection. To the Dragon Lord's surprise there were three young men from English Marcher families. Roger Mortimer, Robert FitzWarren, and John Ashley. Any one of them would have been more than suitable. Even the English. But Maia had no interest in any of them, and Merin Pendragon would not force his daughter into marriage. It had frustrated him that his eldest, Averil, had been boxed into a match not of her choosing no matter how well it had worked out. He would see that Maia and Junia made their own choices no matter what others might think of his decision.
“The lass is a fool,” his concubine Ysbail muttered. “What does she want, in the name of Blessed Mary? All without blemish, and strong of limb. Choosing might be difficult, but certainly she can do it.”
“My daughter wants to love the man she weds,” Argel said quietly.
“Bah!” Ysbail snorted. “What does love have to do with anything? And what is love? 'Tis a lot of foolishness you speak, and do not glare at me, Gorawen. I can have my opinion as you indeed have yours.”
“Do you not love our lord Merin?” Gorawen said sharply.
“Does he love me?” Ysbail countered. “No, he does not! He took me for a concubine because he hoped to get a son off of me, and nothing more. I like him well enough. And I respect him, but love? Bah!”
Finally, as the summer waned, Maia's suitors departed, disappointed. Roger Mortimer was the last to go.
“You are certain,” he said with a visible air of regret, “that you could not love me, Maia? I vow I should make you a very good husband, my pretty maid.”
“I am sorry, Roger,” Maia told him. “I do like you. I like you best of all who have come, but it is not enough for me. I must love the man I marry with all my heart and soul. That is how it must be for me. I should die otherwise.”
“Then I don't suppose it would be wise to bride-nap you,” he teased her with an engaging grin, his blue eyes dancing.
Maia laughed. “Nay. Be warned, Roger, that I am always armed, and I should have to kill you if you attempted to steal me. That should sadden me as you are my brother-in-law's best friend.”
“If your aim is as good as your sister's, I should not be afraid,” he replied.
“My aim is quite sure,” she warned him. “Averil was never any good with a dagger. She is in too much of a hurry.”
Roger Mortimer took the girl's hand in his, and kissed it lingeringly. “Then I must bid you a reluctant farewell, my lady Maia. I hope you will soon find your heart's desire, and live surrounded by love forever.”
“What a lovely thing to say to me!” Maia exclaimed, genuinely touched, and she watched as he rode off, thinking it a pity that she couldn't love Roger Mortimer. But she couldn't, and she knew it. She could only love the faceless man who had haunted her dreams these past months since she had turned fifteen. Who was he? And why would he not come to her?
She had first dreamed of him on her birthday. Initially she had been afraid, but his low and musical voice had assured her he meant her no harm. He took her by her hand, and together they had soared over the landscape until they had come to a beautiful castle on an island in the midst of a lake. This was where they would live when she was his, he had said. The castle was like no other she had ever seen. Its towers were round, and soared into the star-filled night sky. The gardens where they strolled were filled with roses, and all manner of flowers in rich, sweet bloom. That was the first night.
He came to her every night after that, taking her hand in his, and together they would rise into the skies, traveling to his castle where soon Maia was lying in her mystery lover's arms, her head spinning with his kisses and his caresses. Her innocent heart had been engaged from the first moment he had come into her life.
“Why will you not go to my father and ask for my hand?” she inquired of him one night.
“I will come, my love, when you are certain that your heart cannot be captured by another,” he told her quietly. “If you love me, Maia, you can love no other man. I would have you be certain.”
“I am not even certain this is real!” she had cried to him.
She could not see the smile, for he remained faceless even when he kissed her, but she could hear the smile in his voice when he answered her.
“When you awaken in the morning, my love, you will find the proof of this night, and all the others that have gone before it, on your pillow,” he promised her.
And when Maia awoke the following morning she found a tiny, delicate silver and gold replica of his castle set within a blue sapphire on a twisted silver and gold chain lying by her head. With a surprised cry she picked it up, examining it, amazed by the exquisite workmanship. Like his castle, the pendant was something the like of which she had never before seen. She slipped it about her neck, hiding it beneath her chemise. If she attempted to explain the pendant and chain her parents would become upset, for even Maia understood there was magic involved in what had been happening to her.
And now suddenly she was very curious to know just who this man who came to her every night was. She had sent her suitors away, and set about to wait. He would come. Of that she was very certain. He was as real as the pendant and chain. No figment of her imagination, or a fantasy. He would come. And then one day Maia felt compelled to wear her pendant and chain in full view of her family.
Ysbail's sharp eye was the first to see it. “Ask your daughter, Argel, where she has obtained that beautiful chain and ornament she is wearing today.”
Argel reached out to finger the chain. Her look was puzzled. “Indeed, my daughter, where have you found this jewel?”
“It is a gift,” Maia answered her mother.
“From whom?” Argel asked.
“From the man I will marry,” Maia said. “He will come soon, Mother, and I will wed none but him.”
“Who is he, my daughter? And how have you met him, and we have not?” Argel said quietly.
“I do not know,” Maia said honestly. “He comes to me each night in my dreams, and we go to his castle in the middle of a beautiful lake. When I questioned the reality of these dreams he said he would leave me proof they were real. When I awoke the following morning the chain and pendant were by my head.”
Argel looked stunned by her daughter's revelation, and Gorawen reached out to take her friend's hand in hers. “This is magic,” she said. “And it is great magic.”
“I love him,” Maia spoke softly.
“She is bewitched!” Ysbail screeched, turning pale and crossing herself. “I can but hope this sorcerer has not harmed my Junia who sleeps by her sister's side!”
The other two women turned to look at Junia, and Argel spoke.
“Has any of this obvious magic disturbed you, child?” she queried the young girl. “Have you had any part in your sister's dreams?
“I do not awaken from the time my head touches my pillow until the morning, nor do I dream,” Junia replied. “This is the first I have heard of Maia's dream lover. I think it very exciting. I should like to have a dream lover, too.”
Ysbail jumped up and slapped her daughter's pretty face. “Foolish one! Do not tempt the devil as this proud girl has done!”
Junia cried out, and her hand went to her cheek as tears slipped down her face.
“Sit down, Ysbail,” Argel ordered the woman in a quiet, but firm voice. “You should not have struck Junia. She did nothing to merit such punishment. She is yet a child. Maia, take your sister, and go into the garden. I must speak with your father. We will call you when we desire your presence once again.” She smiled at the two girls as they arose, and curtseying went out of the hall. Argel signaled to a house serf. “Fetch your master. Tell him I would see him as quickly as possible.”
The servant ran from the hall. “I wonder who this magician is,” Ysbail said.
“I wonder when he will come for her,” Gorawen replied, “for he surely will.”
“Should we resist him?” Argel directed her question to Gorawen.
“I doubt that we can,” Gorawen answered. “This is strong magic indeed that this man practices. Still, Maia has no fear despite the fact he remains faceless to her.”
“He is probably horribly deformed,” Ysbail said grimly.
“Or wonderfully beautiful,” Gorwen responded.
“Then why hide his visage?” Ysbail demanded.
“Perhaps he wishes to be loved for his character, and not his face,” Argel said wisely. “I wonder how long before we have the answers we seek.”
“Soon, I suspect,” Gorawen replied. “The year wanes. He will want her as his wife before the winter sets in, I think.”
Merin Pendragon entered his hall. His wife and his women arose and curtsied to him as he settled himself before the fireplace. He had been breaking a young horse. His graying hair and his shirt were damp with his exertions. “Rafe said it was important, wife,” he said. “I am not unhappy, however, to be called in. The beast is very stubborn.” He motioned his three women to sit down, and they obeyed.
Argel quietly explained the tale that Maia had told them. “I expect that is why she turned down so many eligible suitors, husband,” she explained.
“You are certain that she and Junia are not playing some clever jest upon you?” he asked them.
“Where would she get the pendant and chain?” Argel said.
“You are sure that it is real?” he responded.
Argel nodded.
The Dragon Lord looked to Gorawen. “You concur?” he said to her.
Gorawen nodded. “The chain is of particularly fine workmanship. As for the pendant, I know of no way but magic that that dainty replica of a castle could be enclosed within a jewel. If this man did not give it to her, how else could Maia have come by such a precious possession?”
Pendragon nodded slowly. “Is this good, or evil?” he wondered aloud.
“We cannot know until we know the man, my lord,” Gorawen said.
“And she says she will marry none but this man?” He looked to his wife now.
“She will have none but him,” Argel replied.
“We shall see,” he said. “I wonder if he will want her without her dower of land? Perhaps it is that he seeks.”
“He has a castle,” Gorawen reminded the Dragon Lord.
“Or so he has led the foolish girl to believe,” Ysbail spoke up sharply. “If he can do the things he does, mayhap this castle is but an illusion.”
Both Argel and Gorawen snorted derisively.
“Nay, my loves,” the Dragon Lord said, “she has a point. I will need to be certain there is a castle in good repair for Maia in which she may make her home.”
Maia and Junia reentered their father's hall.
“It is growing dark,” the older girl said.
“And the wind is beginning to rise,” the younger added.
“Come by the fire,” their father invited. He drew Junia into his lap, smiling as her head came to lay against his broad shoulder. “Now, my fair Maia,” he said, looking at her, “is what your mother tells me the truth? This is not some jest you would play upon us?”
“ 'Tis no jest, Father,” Maia answered her sire.
“You have never seen his face?” Merin Pendragon was very curious. “How can you love a man whose face you do not know?” he asked his second daughter.
She shrugged. “I understand not, Da, but I can tell you that I love him for his voice, and his kind ways. Those who serve him seem to love him, too. His dogs run to him at the sound of his voice. He is gentle and tender with me. I believe that he loves me, Father, and have I not said I would wed no man who did not love me?”
“Ahh,” Merin Pendragon said, “there is the rub, my daughter. Is he indeed a man, or some wicked spirit come to lure you away for nefarious purposes?”
“I care not,” Maia replied. “I love him, and that is all that matters.”
“Then I would meet him,” the Dragon Lord said quietly.
“He says he will come soon,” Maia responded in sure tones.
“Good!” her father answered her, but he was troubled. What kind of man snuck into a man's house and seduced his daughter in her dreams? He was uneasy, but Argel and Gorawen seemed at ease with this situation they all faced.
That night as Maia walked with her lover in his castle garden she said softly, “Show me your face, my lord. It matters not to me if you are disfigured or scarred.”
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