Chapter 28 #2
“There is more to a queen than simply bearing children,” she said. “Even if it is much less loudly praised. It has a subtle nature, though invites just as much scrutiny.”
“And what role is that?” he asked.
She chuckled. “Why, everything else.”
“Certainly no one expects me to run a kingdom,” he muttered.
“Of course not. But there is a great deal of work in running one household. You shall be in charge of many. All of Rhyd-hal must answer to the king. And he may not always be ready to speak. When he cannot give orders, that duty will fall to you.”
The druid’s skin itched. He squirmed within it. “Surely there is someone better.”
“Why should there be? Wives run this land the world over. It’s nae politics, but common sense.” Again, her smile broke through. “Don’t worry. Today will be a small test. Wedding preparations are a dull business, but it will help dip your wee toes.”
Lady Merah was as warm as her reception hall. He had few friends and was wary of calling her one, but her words gave him hope.
Maybe… maybe he could do something about his dreams after all.
Until that day, he had existed as little more than a fixture, a thing that lingered along the edge of a world that sought desperately to ignore him.
Now, he had a receiving room, and tailors and caterers came to call.
He was no one and nothing, and they were made to bow.
Things that shouldn’t have mattered to him required his word of approval.
“Shall it be the mutton or the pork?”
“Would you prefer green or dun?”
They brought a piper from the northland for him to sample his skill, and a baker from the east who could produce cider cakes.
The business was, indeed, exceedingly dull, and he began to think his ambition foolish. He had visions of war and of slaughter. He did not care about the color of the drapes.
When they were alone again, he grumbled, “Is this really necessary?”
“Someone must do it,” Lady Merah reminded him.
He wondered why the Vaich should not be involved. He wasn’t off fighting wars or winning battles. It was laziness, not necessity.
Lady Merah seemed to understand his thoughts even in his silence. “It may seem absurd, but there is purpose in partnership. Not everything will be fair, but in the end, it is a shared load. He has his part to play, too.”
“I have not seen it,” the druid said dryly.
Lady Merah raised her brows. “As to be expected…” she muttered more to herself. “But that part will come later.”
The druid didn’t know “what part”.
He scoffed. “This is all nonsense.”
“Nonsense?”
He glanced up, seeing the veiled form of the Sun Matron in the doorway. She was the dark shadow to Lady Merah’s gilded light, and at once his muscles tightened.
“Is that what you think? How arrogant.”
Arrogant? It was laughable. The druid had never been called thus. Hearing it from a mouth like hers was pure comedy.
“If it is pride you want, look no further than your son.”
Medhin’s eyes narrowed. “Pride is good in a king. Every Vaich is seeded with a healthy dose. But I see you still have not come to understand your place.”
“This is not my place.”
Medhin pressed her chin up and stared at him down the length of her long nose.
“It is a king’s duty to mind the body of his people, and it is a Queen’s duty to mind the spirit.
You will come to recognize your responsibility far exceeds your disdain.
Whatever contempt you hold for we, you shall not hold for them. ”
He could not stop the bile from building in his throat. “I have committed my life to helping the people. I have seen their struggle and their suffering. Those who live on the fringes of your golden kingdom do not delight in the warmth of these fires.”
She smirked. “So, he admits it at last. The druid thinks himself more worthy.”
“I do not place myself above anyone.”
“No?” She nodded towards the walls. “But you do not care for their comfort? Has it occurred to you that such a ceremony has nothing to do with you?”
He tensed.
“But of course you did not consider. A wedding ceremony for a bride is but a matter of moments. For a kingdom, it may last the night, into the morn, and long beyond. They will sing songs of your union for years to come. It is not for your plate—the pork or the mutton. It is not for your eyes—the green or the dun. It is for them who come to celebrate you. And you discard them as nonsense.”
He stayed quiet, because he knew he had been bested. He thought his restraints loosened, but now he realized new threads had been sewn about him, and their knots pulled tight.
“I think that is enough for today,” said Lady Merah with a consolatory tone. But the druid stared back at Medhin unflinchingly.
His wrists still burned where the chains had held him. He would not be lectured to by people whose arguments stood on violence.
“So this is your way of caring for them? Performance and petty displays?”
“That is the way about things in this world,” said Medhin. “And soon you will learn what it means to hold power here. What it truly means to be Queen.”
They adjourned for lunch, Ruicá herding him through the covered walk to his room. They passed alongside the yard—not the normal path back, but the druid quickly understood why she had elected to take it.
There was a repetitive click clacking from out on the pitch. Some men gathered about the training ground, miming combat with wooden cudgels. And at the center was the Vaich, open skin glistening beneath the sky; the mark of the sun emblazoned on his chest.
The druid glowered. So this is what he had been busy with?
Ruicá’s attention fixed upon the king, her stride slowing as she went. The druid took her distraction as opportunity and went careening towards the men.
“Druid!” She scrambled. “You’re not allowed there!”
He ignored her, cutting a path across the yard. It stunk of sweat and fervor, and all manner of mess was scattered about. Men leaned against workhorses, drinking from their flasks. The druid disregarded their odd looks, stepping up to the wooden fence.
The Vaich seemed none the wiser, blocking a swinging blow from his opponent. There was a struggle—the other man trying desperately to force his way forwards, but the king thrust him back with a swift kick that sent him sprawling.
Someone whistled. “What a sight! Our Queen-to-be blesses us with his presence.”
The Vaich’s gilded gaze fell on him. For an instant, they watched each other, an unspoken knowing passing between.
“Come on then,” said the Vaich, hoisting his opponent to his feet. “Keep warm till I return.” The men laughed, but the Vaich’s impatience was plain on his face. He held his cudgel against his shoulder, sauntering over to the fence.
“What are you doing here?” The words low enough that only the druid could hear.
“I need to speak with you.”
“So you are.”
“Not here. In private.”
The Vaich scoffed. “I’m busy. Shouldn’t you be busy, too?”
“The band will play from supper to midnight. I’ve ordered two wagons of cheese. Can we speak now?”
The Vaich looked no less irritable, but did not have time to reply as Ruicá rushed up.
“My laird, I’m so sorry! The chore gets away from me. Please, forgive my carelessness.”
The Vaich looked at her with an eagerness that made the druid’s teeth grind.
“Lady Cearnathán, how could I hold it against you? What a mighty task you’ve been given. Since the druid cannot be trusted not to get up to trouble, what else could I do but to assign him such a fine woman as example?”
Her smile was sickeningly sweet and she caressed back her honeyed strands. “Your Majesty honors me with the work.”
The druid grew more frustrated with every word they spoke.
“Ah! But we’ve caused you a terrible disruption.” Ruicá reached for the druid who shook her loose, forcing her lust-sick eyes from the Vaich.
“And on purpose. I have something to tell you and it cannot wait.”
“What could be so important?” asked the Vaich. “In any case, we’ll have plenty of time to talk after the wedding. Until then, I’ve guests to entertain.”
“This is far more—”
Ruicá hushed him, flashing the king one last smile, her fingers digging into the druid's arm. “Come, darling!”
The Vaich nodded them off, but not before the druid shot him one final glare.
Ruicá managed to herd him and as they got further away, her voice became a growl. “Are you trying to make a fool of me?”
“You do that perfectly well on your own. My ambitions are far larger.”
She gasped. “He isn’t interested in anything you have to say! Don’t you understand? You’re only here by mistake. You aren’t entitled to his attention.”
“And you aren’t entitled to his affection.”
“Why you—!” Her hand raised, but in a split moment, she stilled herself, realizing her mistake. Her arms dropped to her side. “Don’t test me, druid. You have only just come into this falsity of power. I was born into this court. You do not want me as an enemy.”
“Your threats have no strength with me.”
She chuckled, revealing her most honest smile yet. “We shall see.”
In the evenings, the druid was returned to his room and, mercifully, Ruicá left him to his devices.
He was never surprised when she did not bring supper, and he changed himself into his nightgown.
It did not unsettle him; rather, he enjoyed the quiet and the lonesome.
He had not had many moments of his own since coming to Rhyd-hal, and wondered if he should have them again.
Since being saddled with his new attendant, he had hardly a moment of peace and certainly no freedom.
He hated to think the Sun Matron right about anything, but he could not deny her words.
To be Queen…
It was easier, he thought, to be captive.
A sound at the door stirred him, and he glanced over to see Halla scurrying in with a tray. His stomach growled in acknowledgment as the warm scent of spice hit him.
“You’re back,” he said.
“Aye, wee’un,” she said with a gentle smile. She placed the tray on the table and came beside the bed where he sat, folded up. She touched his face and checked his complexion, taking in the glassy look in his eyes. “Ye’ve not been sleepin’ well.”
“I’m alright,” he told her, but his stomach betrayed him, again.
She chuckled at the sound and went to fetch the tray. “Dinnae fash. I’ve brought ye some hot broth ’n ginger. A bit o’ bread for ye, too.”
He could not eat fast enough, and before he realized what he was doing, he had already gulped down half the broth. He froze, his fingers tightening on the spoon.
Why?
All his life he had lived on moderation.
He had been taught to go without. He was accustomed to fasting.
Or rather, he had been. He eyed the bowl with something like sorrow, and that frightened him, too.
Soon, it would be Túrna. Almost two whole months since he’d last walked the wood.
And in that time, his life had become a thing he hardly recognized.
“Somethin’ the matter with it?” asked Halla with a frown.
He shook his head, but lowered the spoon.
She finished folding his clothes from the day, and came and sat beside him. “Now, dinnae look so sad, íridh. Ye’ll be married, soon!”
His brows knit. Was everyone so concerned with this engagement that they could not see that… No, he couldn’t blame her. He couldn’t blame any of them. These people who knew nothing of his truth.
This was their world and he’d been drug into it. For all the upheaval he had caused and had yet to do, for them, they were still living the way they’d been born to do. There were no visions, no trials, no monstrous fears.
Medhin’s words whispered in his ears.
It wasn’t for the people to know of every ill or uncertainty. They were searching for hope upon their masters’ faces, and those who sat atop these golden thrones… were obligated to let them find it.
Yet, he could not keep silent. He could not don the mask. If something was out there beyond understanding, then preparation, not parties, would help them best.
But he didn’t say that. He didn’t say any of it.
Halla stroked his hair. “Wee mess, I’ll take care of ye.” She retrieved a brush from the vanity and returned to his side. She took up his flaxen strands, beginning the tedious work of combing them out. “Oh, that I might see ye as a bride. A good’n day it’ll be.”
“Of course you can see,” he said softly. “You’ll be there with me.”
“Aye, no. There’s no room at the table for us folk. But we’ll hear about it, ye can be sure. It’ll be all the talk, it will.”
He picked at his bread, chewing the crust. “There won’t be much to hear of. It will be done and then over.”
“Come now, ye cannae say ye arenae a bit excited. The Vaich is not so poorly on the eyes. Even an old maid like me can see that.”
The druid scowled, chewing harder. “He has a terrible disposition.”
She laughed. “Aye, the menfolk oft do. Though ye are a surprise. I’ve not met a one like ye.”
He considered her words. “I hadn’t thought of myself that way.”
“No?” she wondered.
“I am a druid.” He frowned. “At least… I was.”
“Aye. Aye, ye are, íridh.” She leaned his head to her chest and he let himself be warm and comfortable.
Everything was changing. Him too. And in such strange times, his allies were few.
“I’m glad for you, Halla,” he whispered. “I’m glad I have you.”
“Oh, come, child. Ye have me. And all the old earth walk with ye. Remember that, dearest. Remember that.”