Chapter 39
Cordelia and Aganippus stood either side of Lear as the bodies of Goneril, Regan, Maglaurus and Henwinus were carried into the House of the Dead – the elaborate tomb on the edge of the hill fort.
At Cordelia’s request, Oudar had returned with them to take the role of Mother of the Temple.
She had presided over the funerary rites and, as she led the procession, Cordelia wiped a tear from her cheek.
All around her, the battered and exhausted people who made up the remains of the once prosperous tribe of the Golden Dobvnni watched as the solemn rites were completed.
Oudar poured the final libation to Corycia, Kleodora, Melaina, the Bee Maidens Three, at the entrance to the House of the Dead before Cordelia stepped forward, raising her hands in a request for silence.
‘Today, we have laid to rest the daughters of Lear – my sisters, Goneril and Regan,’ she said.
‘A madness overwhelmed them but this does not excuse their tyrannical behaviour neither does it justify the cruelty of their husbands. To mark an end to this tragic era in our history, the House of the Dead will be sealed and a new burial ground created on the other side of the fort. Do not fear, even with the tomb sealed, our ancestors will not be abandoned. During the festival of Alban Arthuran, when the Cold Moon is full, Oudar and I will perform the sacred ritual of the dead to ensure our ancestors have a passage to the Everywhen. We will bless the three stones that have been toppled during the battles of the past year and create a conduit for the ancestors. They will remain connected to the land, to us, to those as yet unborn and to those who will one day join them in Albios, even if the burial ground is elsewhere.’
She pointed to the three standing stones that lay pushed against each other in a small dell and there was a ripple of approval.
‘Remember the days when King Lear ruled and my sisters and I danced with fire,’ she said and there was a respectful murmur from the gathered villagers. ‘From tomorrow, we will begin again.’
* * *
After her father had saved her during the terrible storm, they had returned to Kamber’s oppidum and, the following day, Lear had explained what had happened.
‘A message came to me from Maglaurus,’ he had said, ‘stating he wished to negotiate terms. He refused to speak with any but me and told me where to wait. Once Locrinus was asleep, I followed the path from the back of the oppidum. When I arrived, he was waiting, but his suggestions were foolish, he claimed he was there on Goneril and Regan’s command. It felt wrong.
‘Then Ivor arrived, screaming his fury, claiming my girls were dead, murdered by the scoundrel Maglaurus. Ivor ran at him with his sword drawn and they fought, taking their battle beyond the circle. I knew this was a fool’s errand and turned to leave, but Henwinus stepped out from behind one of the stones.
He was quieter, calmer, trying to persuade me to side with him against Maglaurus, to make him my heir.
He said if I refused, then he would hunt you down, Cordelia.
He claimed he and Maglaurus would become renowned for killing the three daughters of Lear. ’
He had paused, tears streaming down his face.
‘I told them they would have to kill me first and Henwinus laughed, then we heard your voice and you ran to my aid. When you fell, I thought you were dead, but then I realised what had happened. You hadn’t seen Maglaurus, he had returned from his fight with Ivor and was hiding in the shadows.
I couldn’t let him kill you, too, so I decided to do battle with him, no matter the outcome for me. ’
There were tears in the one eye on show and he had turned to Cordelia, his face lined with age; defeated and full of regret.
‘My madness has cost me dear,’ he had said. ‘From this day forward, I name you as my heir. I give to you and your brave husband, Aganippus, the charge of the hill fort of the Golden Dobvnni.’
Lear had broken down and Aganippus had commanded he be taken to his roundhouse and treated with kindness while he recovered.
Locrinus had asked after his son and Lagon had led a search party into the woods, but there was no trace of Ivor.
‘We must assume he fled the fight,’ Aganippus had said when Lagon returned.
‘Should we search further, bring him to justice?’ Lagon had asked.
‘No,’ Cordelia had interjected. ‘There has been enough bloodshed; the time has come for peace, for a return to the life we lived before the madness of my father created havoc.’
Peace envoys were sent to the Golden Dobvnni with a decree from their new monarchs declaring an end to hostilities. Food was transported from Kamber’s stores and a request was made for the bodies of Goneril and Regan to be treated with dignity.
When the envoys had returned, Sadiald, the wife of Dardan, Lear’s former general, was with them.
‘Dardan was murdered by the mercenaries not long after you left,’ she had informed Cordelia and Aganippus.
‘What happened to my sisters?’
‘They changed,’ Sadiald had said. ‘Power does not always sit well on a person’s heart. Goneril’s dark side predominated, and when Regan watched her sister’s cruelty, she too became imbued with evil. I believe they were bewitched by grief, power and shadow love.’
‘What do you mean?’ Cordelia had asked. It was not a term she had ever heard.
‘Ivor returned,’ Sadiald had confirmed. ‘He and Goneril have long been lovers, but he also took Regan to his bed, then flaunted them to each other. The shadows that lurk at the edge of every love affair are deep with danger, love is a madness and when denied, the good can easily be subsumed by the despair and violence of thwarted emotions. When Maglaurus had them both murdered in their beds, Ivor lost his mind.’
Cordelia’s devastation at the terrible fate of her sisters was all-consuming and she had excused herself from the roundhouse, hurrying to her and Aganippus’s quarters for privacy.
She had been aware of her sisters’ darker natures, but she had hoped their goodness would prevail.
Her tears had flowed, hot, desperate and full of loss, as she mourned the girls she had known and the happy, hopeful young women they had been the last night they had danced together.
‘Will you visit them in the Everywhen?’ Gloigin had asked her later that evening when, on Aganippus’s command, she had taken Cordelia food and a goblet of mead infused with healing herbs.
‘One day,’ Cordelia had replied.
* * *
Now, as the winter sun threw its silver light over the funerary procession, Cordelia put aside the thoughts of the past and turned away from the House of the Dead and the three toppled stones.
Lagon led Lear and Locrinus back to the central roundhouse, where a feast of tribute would be held for Goneril and Regan.
Maglaurus and Henwinus would be quietly acknowledged, as was necessary for the favour of the gods, but there would be no celebrations of their lost lives.
Tributes would be sent to the tribes of Albany and Dvmnonii to commemorate the loss of their heirs.
The feast would be subdued and when it was over, the tribe would move forward.
‘They must all be remembered,’ Aganippus said as he and Cordelia made their way hand-in-hand from the House of the Dead towards the central roundhouse.
‘Spaden the Gaul or one of his scribes will tell our tale,’ she said.
‘How will it end?’
‘With daughters,’ she said. ‘Angarad’s curse will remain for many generations.’
‘How do you know?’ he asked.
‘I have seen how it ends,’ she replied, ‘and it is good.’
‘Will you tell me?’ he asked.
‘No, but perhaps I shall tell our next daughter and she might whisper it to you when you’re in your dotage.’
Aganippus looked at her in surprise. ‘Another child?’ he said and she smiled. ‘It might be a son.’
‘No,’ said Cordelia. ‘It will be a girl and we shall call her Caitlin.’
‘It’s a strange name,’ said Aganippus, ‘but you are queen and your wish is my command.’
Cordelia smiled up at her husband, then she took his hand and led him into the hall where the funerary feast awaited, where she could say goodbye to her sisters and wait for the day in the Everywhen when she was needed to save them all.