Child of the Northern Spring (Guinevere Trilogy) Read online

  “It’s for the King and his Lady to ask permission to enter first, and you’ll not go barging across ahead of them just for high spirits.”

  So I pulled up on the reins and held my place in line with sober propriety, following my parents through the ford and up the hill. The banners whipped bright against the darkening sky, while the harpers and pipers and local musicians marched along with us, keeping cadence with their music and adding to the festive air. People stood on either side of the track, waving or smiling, and I grinned broadly at Llyn when I rode past. As those along the roadside spotted friends or relatives in the procession, they too fell into step, and soon the entire populace was escorting us to our winter home.

  The official entry of a king is often like this, but in the past I had watched it from the cart and had no idea how thrilling it could be when one was an active participant. I have made many grander entrances since then, riding more elegant mounts, but none with more pride and pleasure. It was perhaps my first real taste of what it means to be royal born.

  Once we were inside the courtyard gates all sense of formality vanished, and noisy welcoming laughter mixed with hoots of surprise and groans of relief as the ladies climbed down from their wagons. Nonny handed over the young Prince to my mother, and Llyn came running through the crowd when I slid off my pony. We started for the barn together, where I was going to rub down my redoubtable steed, but Rhufon took the reins from me and shooed us off.

  “No point in having a couple of giggling youngsters underfoot,” he grumbled, and Llyn shrank back and hung her head.

  “Oh, don’t take him seriously,” I said as we made for the kitchen.” He sounds much gruffer than he is.”

  It was a typical first night, when bone-weary travelers collide with cheerful celebrants glad to see them home again. Everywhere there was laughter and confusion, and we threaded our way around the noisy knots of people and darted through the doorway of the Great Hall itself.

  The fire had been banked to coals on the center hearth, and huge pots of steaming stew hung by their triple chains over its warmth. Trestle tables were being set up and the carved chairs brought out for the Council which would begin once the meal was through. Llyn and I found a quiet spot among the shadows under the loft and settled down to exchange our news.

  “I broke my arm,” she said, pulling back her tunic sleeve and extending a slightly crooked limb for inspection, “trying to set a snare in the woods.”

  Not even adults venture into the forest alone, and I stared at my friend admiringly and ran a curious finger along the satinlike scar. “You went into the woods?”

  “Not by myself. My brother was with me, and it was only by the edge of the cow pasture. But the bone was showing and it hurt a lot, and Mum talked about taking me to the Lady for help.”

  “Did you see the Lady of the Lake?” I was both shocked and delighted at the idea, for I had never known anyone who had actually met the High Priestess, though of course everybody knew about her.

  “No,” Llyn answered, shaking her head as she dropped her sleeve over the scar. “Mum set it and wrapped it with elm leaves and it got better by itself, with only a little twistedness, so I didn’t go to the Sanctuary.” She giggled and ducked her head to one side. “Daddy made a terrible scene when Mum suggested it. He grabbed a cheesecloth and put it round his shoulders like a shawl, then hobbled up and down the room making fun of the Lady all the while. Mum was shocked, and really frightened, and made the sign against evil just in case.”

  At this Llyn herself made the deft little hand motion and I did the same, for ridiculing the Priestess came awfully close to blaspheming the Gods.

  “Anyhow, who wants to see a worn-out old druidess, too weak and frail even to go out among her people?” my friend concluded.

  I wondered if she’d been listening to the Christians, who denounced any god but their own, but before I had a chance to ask she began telling me about the two-headed kid the goat had dropped that spring, and the rites that had been held after it died.

  I told her in turn about Liberty, and the yearlings Rhufon had set out to break over the summer, and the merchant ship that had gotten stuck in the sands of Morecambe Bay.

  It had come gliding into the estuary like some creature from the Otherworld, looming up out of the water and grounding itself firmly on a sandspit. All day long the monster lay there, unlike any boat I’d ever seen. Our bobbing coracles would have long since cleared the spit and been on their way, but this thing towered above both man and sea, leaning over them like a floating fortress of wood and hide. It had tall, straight trees growing from its center, with flapping aprons tied to cross-branches, and was filled with sailors swearing in a language no one could understand. Finally the captain brought his cargo ashore to lighten his load and make what trades he could. Mama chose some jewelry and a length of shining fabric the color of green apples in return for a side of salted meat and a pannier of cabbages.

  “The stuff is all shimmery,” I said, trying to think how to describe the silk. “Sort of smooth and soft and…and like a butterfly’s wing. Kaethi says it comes from a land beyond the sunrise. Mama bought a green piece and promises she’ll line my hood with the scraps if there are any left over after her dress is done. And she got a necklace made of ivory as well, with amber beads.”

  “Amber?” My friend’s eyes went round with surprise. “Are the beads really magic? Can you call the Gods with them?”

  Llyn’s eagerness to meddle with the Gods was making me uncomfortable, and I shrugged her question aside with relief as a serving woman all but tripped over us.

  “Get on with you, young’uns! Can’t you see the King and Queen are arriving?” the servant cried, thrusting the wooden platters laden with oatcakes into our hands and shoving us toward the nearest table. “No time for children to sit around and chatter when there’s a table to be served.”

  And so the day mellowed into night with all the usual richness; the Hall filled with the sound of freemen and women laughing and joking as they ate, and when the bowls were cleared and diners had wiped their knives and licked their fingers clean, the mead was brought out and the tables dismantled. The circle formed and the business of the Council began in earnest.

  This man had news from the Strathclyde group, and that one had kept an eye on our Northumbrian neighbors. As usual, King Urien’s men roamed back and forth across our Pennine border, claiming this farm or making off with that cow. A shepherd from Alston had lost his entire flock to a strange malady, and there was some debate as to whether it was punishment for leaving the Old Ways unattended. Emerys the Miller reported on the nature of the crop this year, how much grain he had ground and how big the yield had been. And the horsemen talked about their animals, while some sought to make arrangements to have the King’s stallion service their mares.

  Mama sat in her own carved chair next to my father’s, listening carefully and sometimes entering into the discussion. But all the while I knew she was keeping an eye out for Nonny, and when the old woman came and nodded that the young Prince was ready for bed, Mama stood up and thanked the people for greeting us so warmly.

  “It is always a pleasure to be with you,” she said gracefully, excusing herself from the circle and making her way toward the stairs to the loft. She moved softly through the shadows, being careful not to disturb those people who were wrapped in their cloaks for the night and already half asleep. I smiled, remembering how, when I was tiny, she had always come to kiss me good night and sing me a lullaby.

  A pair of fresh logs, well aged so they would not smoke, were put across the embers for the night, and Llyn and I moved up to the hearthside and snuggled in among the pile of puppies there. We whispered and nudged each other sleepily while the grown-ups discussed the rumor that Uther, High King of Britain, planned to mount a spring offensive against the Saxons in the south. There was speculation as to whether our neighbor Urien would join the High King on such an expedition or stay here in the north and harry us with
border raids.

  I drifted into and out of sleep, little caring what the bigger, more powerful monarchs might do. It was enough to be back in Appleby, and I smiled contentedly when Edwen took up the harp and the familiar songs of history engulfed us all.

  Chapter IV

  Samhain

  We had been at Appleby for nigh onto a fortnight when a druid came striding up the hill and through the double gates of the stockade. I was down in the kennel, helping to dress the wounds of a dog that had been pronged during a stag hunt two days before, and so missed the excitement of his entrance. But by the time we had finished and were washing up at the trough, even the stable hands were talking about the visitor, and there was much speculation as to who he was and what he wanted.

  The hall was crowded that night, for news of a druid’s presence travels on the wind, and after dinner the Council circle formed. Those whose position did not warrant a chair spread out rugs or pillows and made themselves comfortable between those who were seated. I found Kaethi on the far side of the hearth and had just snuggled down next to her to watch the happenings when one of Mama’s ladies touched me on the shoulder.

  “You’re to go to the Queen’s side,” she whispered.

  I stared at her blankly and she tweaked my tunic, adding firmly, “Right now.”

  I had never approached my mother in the Queen’s chair before and did so now with a combination of caution and excitement. Discipline was handled within the family and not in open court, so I didn’t think I was in trouble, but there was no explanation as to why I was being singled out. To judge from the aloofness of Mama’s expression, however, this was no time to ask questions.

  She gestured to the footstool next to her, and I sat down as my father called the meeting open and a hush fell on the group.

  “We are privileged to have a special guest tonight,” he said, looking around the circle and nodding welcome to the stranger. “Cathbad the Druid has requested permission to bring the Council a message from the High Priestess.”

  The newcomer rose and moved into the center of the circle. He was lean and fair, and could easily have been taken for one of Nidan’s warriors had he not been wearing the white gown of a wise man. Most druids were old and crabbed, and I watched with fascination as this young one acknowledged my parents with a formal bow. When they nodded in return, he turned to face the council and looked carefully at each of the freemen gathered there before he smiled.

  “It is a pleasure to be among you.” He spoke in a rich voice well tuned to capture attention. “And I bring you greetings specifically from the Lady of the Lake. She is in good health and sends you her blessing, glad that so many are returning to the Old Ways. The bounty of this recent harvest is proof that the Gods are pleased with their people, and have bestowed a plentiful crop on us all.”

  He paused, and looked down at the coals of the fire while the listeners shifted happily in their places, nodding in comfortable agreement with him. Llyn was making faces at me, and I looked quickly back to the druid in order to keep from giggling. The pressure of Mama’s hand on my shoulder was all the reminder I needed to watch my manners.

  “In fact,” our visitor went on, the golden voice warming to his audience, “the Lady sees it as proof of the Morrigan’s approval of the school which has recently been reinstated at the Sanctuary.”

  At the mention of the triple goddess of war and death and bloodlust, he made the sign to ward off blasphemy and many in the Council did likewise.

  “In the Old Days it was the custom to send the finest young men to Her school, where they learned the arts of war. That was long ago, before the Empire, when heroes and great warriors were visited by the Morrigan Herself. There was no better training anywhere, and even the princes from the Continent were sent to the Lady to be taught at the Sanctuary.”

  He was well into it now, weaving a spell of glory and times remembered from the far past, and we drank in his voice like honey brew. Favorite heroes and much-sung battles formed in the firelit shadows, and one could catch the glint of golden torques and decorated shields in the magic of his words.

  “Those,” he said, bringing the voice down almost to a whisper, “were the days before the red-crested Legions came, with their marching armies and orders to wipe the Old Ways from the land.”

  The people in the Hall were silent, as if brooding on some old wound, and a little tongue of flame shot, hissing, from the log on the fire.

  “But those druids who escaped the massacre at Anglesey would not let the legends die, or give over to the Roman thought. Through generations of the Lady’s protection they’ve kept the wisdom intact, have passed the memory on and held fast to the dream of one day reawakening the power the Old Gods offer.” His voice had lifted, full and majestic, and was ringing with triumph. “Now, at last, the wheel has turned round again. The time has come to acknowledge our inheritance and rise to glory once more!”

  “Hear, hear!” cried one of the warriors from the other side of the fire pit, and the druid turned, picked up his goblet and raised it in silent tribute to the congregation. After pouring out the first few drops for the Gods, he drank heartily, and a wave of approval rippled around the circle, then faded away when he lowered his cup.

  “What better way to ensure success for the coming generations than to reestablish the School and send our young royalty to study at the Sanctuary of the Lady? This time the teaching will be more general, not shirking the lessons of the Morrigan for battle but also including the wisdom of the druids, the history and science and literature of many years’ gathering. Even the arts of healing will be taught, so that every leader of the future will be versed in the secret ways of the Goddess’ knowledge. The Lady began to gather students for this great endeavor when King Ban of Brittany sent his son Lancelot to her, and the number of students has grown with each year since. Now,” he said, turning slowly to face my parents, “she requests the honor of your children’s presence at her school.”

  Mama’s fingers tightened on my shoulder in the silence that followed the druid’s invitation. All of us in the Hall were holding our breaths, and I heard a coal crumble and fall into ash on the hearth. Mama relaxed when the druid moved to put his cup down by his chair, and after he straightened and turned back to her, she was smiling. Whatever fear had caused her to grip my shoulder so hard had passed, and her voice was calm and firm.

  “My good sir, you are well talented for your calling. It is easy to see that you will be, or possibly already are, a fine spokesman between the people and the Gods. And we are fortunate to have such a one visit our court. We have long felt it an honor to have the Lady living within our kingdom, and to benefit from her blessing and knowledge. Indeed, by protecting our land from invaders, we have also protected her, and willingly so.”

  She paused and reached for her own goblet as the implication of her words sank in. We were all following her now as closely as we had followed Cathbad, for the powers of the Lady were legendary and one refused her request at peril. Slowly Mama raised her cup and saluted the druid.

  “Please tell her that we thank her for the offer to educate the Princeling, but he is still only a babe, not even past the toddling stage. And I would keep the Princess with me for there are many things relating to the running of a court which she has yet to learn.”

  “The Lady had hoped…” Cathbad began, as though the matter were still open for debate.

  Mama cut in, her tone gracious but still firm. “I am sure the education of the young in history and science and healing is much to be desired, but we will have to do the best we can here within our family. With times still as unsettled as they are, I trust the Lady will understand.”

  For the first time Cathbad looked to the King for his reaction, and my father nodded gravely in accord with my mother.

  “It is as has been spoken,” he said, putting an end to the matter. “Perhaps in some future time we can consider it again. Now, we have yet to hear your other news, and the Council is eager to kno
w what has been happening in the farther kingdoms. Did you come up from the south, perchance, and do you have any knowledge of how matters stand with the High King?”

  So the moment passed, and with it my chance to go live with the Lady. I leaned back against Mama’s knees, full of wonder and curiosity about what life at the Sanctuary would be like. Rhufon had mentioned it once, saying that it had been the home of all great men when they were children, but this was the first I’d heard that girls could attend. I wondered how many others had been invited, and whether my parents might reconsider. The very idea of studying at the Sanctuary filled me with excitement; at the least I might have learned the art of shape-changing under the Priestess’ guidance, and at the most I could have become a warrior.

  I wondered why my parents thought it was necessary to turn down the invitation, and decided to ask Kaethi about it in the morning. In the meantime, the druid was continuing with his news.

  It had been a quiet summer in the south, with the Saxons staying within their holdings along the eastern edge of our island.

  “King Uther patrols the area closely, but there are rumors that there are others on the Continent who are massing for a major invasion. He wants assurances from all the client kings that their warriors will be ready if the need arises.”

  My father’s men nodded eagerly, and there was a general air of assent, for though we had no contact with the Saxons here in Rheged, they were said to be cruel victors and worse slavers. I didn’t think they could surpass the Irish, however, for Nonny said the Irish still collected heads, a habit we in Britain had long since given up.

  Either way, it was a subject I didn’t care to pursue, and I was glad when the talk moved round to Samhain. My father invited the druid to join us for the year-end festival, and he accepted, provided that he had finished his errands for the High Priestess.