“Both Rhun and Causantin benefitted from my father’s death. They most likely arranged it together with the backing of the Church. The power of the holy men is growing. They have filled Rhun’s head with promises of great riches and tales of God protecting his kingdom — so long as he contributes to the Church, of course.”
“How can he justify keeping Lord Caelin from his lands?”
Gemma sighed and watched her son eat. “Caelin is too much of a threat to Rhun. Eochaid has no children, which makes Caelin his heir. Lord Marcant has already kidnapped Caelin once, intending to place him on the throne instead of either Rhun or Eochaid. There is always a danger that Rhun will take decisive action to prevent the threat of Caelin’s claim to the throne.”
“He is just a child!”
“Children grow.”
“Is that why you stay here?”
“Lord Cenydd told me I would be safer here. I trust him. Besides, the Norsemen don’t care whether it is a Briton or a Pict or a Dal Riatan on the throne. So long as they have their alliance, these things do not matter. But our people care. We saw last year that our people care a great deal, Rhiannon. Many want a return to my father’s kingdom, with less power going to the Church. Then there is less chance of our kingdom merging with those in the north. Marcant promised them a return to that past and many were eager for it.”
“Marcant cares only for himself. He thinks he deserves…” Rhiannon clenched her fists, then lowered her head. Gemma knew she had been captured by Marcant after he had arranged the murder of Aoife’s father last year. As she watched the woman now,she sensed that whatever had happened to her had been far worse than just being captured.
“What did Marcant do to you, Rhiannon?”
Rhiannon kept her eyes on the floor and shook her head. “I won’t speak of it.”
“If I can ever ensure it, I promise you he shall pay for his crimes.”
“A lifetime in hell would not be enough.” Rhiannon said it so quietly that Gemma nearly didn’t hear her. Then she lifted her head. “Please do not bring him here, Gemma.”
“I would never do anything to endanger you or Aoife,” she said, but it saddened her that Rhiannon believed she would do such a thing.
Rhiannon took a step towards her, her arms outstretched. “I want my son to have a safe place to live and grow and if that place is amongst the Norse rather than his own people, then that is how it must be.”
“I understand,” she said and smiled sadly. “I might even agree, however, I can only promise not to betray the settlement. There is nothing more I can do.”
Rhiannon let her arms fall back to her sides, her gaze once more on the floor. “I didn’t tell you everything.”
“What more is there?” Gemma wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it.
Rhiannon looked up, her lips pursed. “There have been soldiers in Ardd Gowan and Ir Ysgyn, looking for you. For both of you. They are offering a reward. Gold.”
All the air left Gemma’s lungs. She took a step backwards and perched on the end of the bed before her knees gave out. Her whole body shook as she fought to keep breathing. Soldiers might be her brother’s men or Marcant’s. She had been Marcant’s captive the summer before, but he had chosen not to show himself to her. Now everything had changed. He’d once tried to force Aoife to marry him so that he could take her lands. He had controlledCaelin’s lands by then, anyway. Would he now seek to marry her to ensure he ruled those lands? But why not do that before? Gemma had never understood why Marcant had not tried before.
“Please don’t bring danger here, Gemma,” Rhiannon pleaded. “We are not all as able to control our fates as you are.” Then she hurried out.
Gemma flinched as the door banged shut behind her. She couldn’t stop herself shaking as everything she believed about her time in Kirkjaster shifted around her. Until this moment she had not understood that even Rhiannon saw her as a danger. Did Aoife? Regardless of anyone’s feelings, if there were soldiers looking for her and her son, then their presence did indeed place the settlement in danger. Rhiannon was wrong — Gemma had as little control over her fate as anyone else. She had thought that they’d be able to remain hidden until a way forward presented itself, but clearly it was not possible to remain here any longer. She would never forgive herself if she was responsible for harm coming to those who had helped her.
King Artgal, her father, would have detested her choices, refused to hide. She grimaced. That attitude had got him killed after the siege of Alt Clut. If he had surrendered earlier, maybe more of his people would have survived. She shuddered. No, she had seen the Norsemen fight. Surrendering would not have helped the Britons. The only reason any had survived was that they were more valuable as slaves than as corpses. She hadn’t been at Alt Clut during the siege, but her husband had. Everyone inside had been doomed as soon as it became clear the Britons at Alt Clut couldn’t break the siege, and those outside, under her brother’s command, were not willing to mount a force large enough to rescue them.
None of this altered the bald fact that both Rhun and Eochaid would have a more secure future if Caelin were dead. Marcant had already tried to build an army with the intent of putting a pure-blooded Briton on the throne. The fact she and Caelin hadalready escaped from him by then had not deterred him. After a brief battle between factions within her own people, where Björn had been almost fatally wounded, Marcant’s attempt to put Caelin on the throne and destroy the alliance with the Norse had ended, however, there was nothing to stop him trying again.
Gemma had overheard the Brothers of Thunder discussing it one evening, although they stopped as soon as they realised she was within earshot. As far as the rumours went, many of the villagers who had left home to join Marcant’s army had so far not returned and were either dead or could be building an army somewhere else. Marcant remained at large and while the winter had cut short the flow of villagers to join him, it was possible that come the spring he would start to attract those dissatisfied with Rhun’s reign once more.
“Mama?” Caelin’s voice brought her attention back to the present.
“Yes?”
“You should eat before it gets cold.”
Gemma smiled and nodded at her son. She ate her meal slowly, wondering if it would be their last here.
Her position was precarious. Her kinswoman, Aoife, may be married to the Norse jarl, but who was to say at some point they would not decide to use her and her son as leverage or as hostages. Every night she prayed they would not. However, alliances could change quickly and she was nothing but a pawn. If she wanted to keep any control over her life and that of her son, she needed to move soon, before what happened to her next became a decision made by others.
“Will you play with me, Mama?” Caelin asked, looking at her with aHnafetaflboard in his hand. She sighed and nodded. There was nothing else to be done today, and she would need to bide her time and take whatever opportunity presented itself.
