The Story of Gawain and Ragnell (5 page)

She clenched her hands in her lap. "You must see that I cannot go back. If you wed me, nothing will legitimize the green warrior's unlawful possession of my home."

"Unless he kills me."

Ragnell shot up from her stool. "He will not!"

He had to smile at her spirit. "And what army is to stop him?"

"No army," she said. "I will."

Gawain was sorely tempted to laugh out loud, but the sight of her stubborn expression made it clear he would have to resist the impulse. "I am certainly pleased that you are willing to come to my aid personally, Ragnell. But I have never seen one with the powers of the Old Race defeat a hardened band of warriors single-handedly. I would be curious to hear how you propose to do so."

She sighed. "Of course I cannot fight them myself. But I can help you by using the power of illusion."

"Yes, I have seen before what that can accomplish," he murmured, remembering the battle of Dyn Tagell, and how Yseult had made over a dozen warriors invisible. Illusion could be a powerful weapon, but it could not conjure a sword to run an enemy through. "Nonetheless, we can hardly attack the hill-fort, as few as we are."

"You will have no need to attack. The usurper will come looking for me."

Gawain gazed at the gray stone wall, bare except for a single cross, and fought the impulse to shake some sense into her. "You have forced our hand."

"No. If you refuse to help me, I can always return — and be married by the end of the week. Which would secure the green warrior's claim on my home."

"Pabius could refuse to perform the ceremony."

"Why would he do that? He has agreed to hold it, and if he went back on his promise, it would throw suspicion on all of you."

"True. But since you seem to have thought through everything, tell me why Bertilak would even come after you? He already holds Caer Camulodon."

"Because he seeks legitimization."

It was true enough — and the reason he had left her alive in the first place. He nodded shortly. "What do you suggest?"

"First — will you do it?"

He crossed his arms in front of his chest, realized he had faced her with the same gesture moments before, and dropped them. "You want me to decide here and now, or else you will return to the man who killed your family, took your home, and raped you?"

She lifted her chin, facing him defiantly with her ravaged face. "Yes."

As they gazed at each other in the bare little room, he could see the defiance and the pride slip away. Her perfect chin dropped, her eyes slid away from his, and finally she threw the veil back over her face. He did not want to hurt her, but he did not know how to answer her either.

"You must understand, Gawain, I need a strong warrior such as you by my side, to rule with me in Caer Camulodon and keep it safe. You know well enough what I look like. How am I to get a husband with a face like mine, this dead eye that makes nearly every good Christian who sees me cross himself?"

"Oh, I think you underestimate the draw of a strategic seat like Caer Camulodon," he said, resisting the urge to cross his arms in front of his chest again.

"No, I do not." She laid a soft hand on his shoulder. "But I had the impression you cared for me at least a little. Those who would marry me for the sake of my inheritance would care for me little more than the warrior of green who destroyed my life."

He looked down at her and pushed the veil back away from her face again. He should be angry that she was trying to pressure him into marriage, but when he gazed into the good eye surrounded by her ruined beauty, he couldn't be. She had lost so much already, and he was well aware of what she had not said; even if Bertilak was driven out, if she did not come up with an acceptable husband soon, her kinship group would send some distant cousin to take over her home and become the new ruler in Caer Camulodon. A strategic seat like this could not long be left without an experienced warrior to defend it.

The only way for Ragnell to keep her home would be to produce a husband with a reputation no one could object to — like Gawain.

She had lost father, mother, brothers and beauty already, would not any other, woman or man, resort to blackmail in such a situation?

He realized with amazment that what he saw in her expression was enough for him, and he laid one hand over hers to draw it from his shoulder. "You know that my first loyalty will always be to Arthur? If he calls me to battle, I will go."

Her good eye widened and her face seemed to shimmer. She had obviously understood what his question meant — that he was considering her proposal.

She drew in a deep breath. "I understand."

"You're surprised."

She looked away. "I hardly dared think you would even consider my request seriously."

He took her chin in one hand and forced her to look at him again. "Then it was very brave of you. Even if it is not a matter of the heart, offering another person the rest of your life is still a risk."

She held his gaze. "And even more so if it
is
a matter of the heart. You want to make her regret her decision, do you not?"

Apparently, it was a day for brutal truths. It was Gawain's turn to look away. "Yes," he said viciously. "I do." He thought about Yseult, thought about how happy she'd looked during her wedding ceremony, with the king of the Durotriges at her side. When the one she should have been marrying was Gawain.

"And what will happen if she does? Would you still remain my husband, still rule by my side here in Caer Camulodon and continue to defend my hold?"

Yes, what would he do?
Would it be possible to make Yseult jealous enough that she would come back to his bed? Ragnell had only spoken of fulfilling his duties as lord, nothing of sexual loyalty. The implication was that she would tolerate an affair as long as he did not repudiate the marriage.

He faced her again. "I have never been one to run away from my responsibilities, madam."

She smiled. "No, not to judge by your reputation."

"I do not want to be unfair to you."

"You would not be unfair to me. I know where I stand. Even if your heart is engaged elsewhere, you are a much better match than I could ever have hoped to make."

"I have no seat, only a modest villa near Caer Leon."

"I am heiress to a strategic seat, will be queen with you by my side, and a villa in the south would be a fine thing to escape the cold of Elmet on occasion."

"I have no prospects. What should have been my inheritance and that of my brothers went to a distant cousin of the Gododdin clan."

"You are descended from one of the most powerful families here in the north and you are nephew and intimate of Arthur, the Dux Bellorum, the most powerful man in Britain. Our children will be related to the greatest families of the north and will have the connections to make brilliant alliances."

Our children
. To his knowledge, Gawain had three bastards already, but while he provided for them, they were not part of his life; they would not be any kind of legacy. He was nearing forty. He had thought to found a family with Yseult, assuming she could still carry a child to term at her age, but that was not to be.

Ragnell was still young, perhaps in her mid-twenties, although her disfigured face made it hard to be sure. But her skin was firm, her muscles strong, and her hips wide. Perhaps he truly could still have a family.

He had confessed every disadvantage he could think of for a marriage to him, and she had swept aside every one. It was up to him now.

He raised her smooth-skinned hand to his lips, turned it over, and kissed the palm. She let out a quiet, long drawn-out moan, and the sound decided him somehow — a perfect sound to make the blood collect at his crotch, a sound any man would want to hear in his bed at night, over and over again.

"Agreed," he said. "If you are so intent on having me, who am I to say you nay? Let us marry and banish the threat of Bertilak together."

Her head shot up and she stared at him. "Do you mean it?"

She was so obviously surprised, despite all the pressure she had put on him, he had to laugh, but she drew away as if he had slapped her.

He took her shoulders in both broad hands and pulled her close again. "Of course I mean it, Ragnell. I would not tease you like that, I swear." He leaned down and kissed her undamaged lips. With another moan, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back passionately, if with little finesse. He found himself smiling behind the kisses.

The surprises the north held.

5

"Garamercy, Lady," then sayd Gawen;
"With you I hold me fulle welle content
And that I trust to fynde."
He sayd, "My love shalle she have.
Therafter nede she nevere more crave,
For she hathe bene to me so kynde."

"The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle" (Anonymous)

Gawain barely understood the Latin words of the mass Pabius spoke to bless their marriage. He had a smattering of Latin, as did nearly everyone in Britain, but he had not paid much attention during lessons as a child, and what he had retained or learned in the meantime had more to do with getting a good bargain from a foreign trader at market or learning what experience a foreign mercenary had in battle.

Of course, he had heard the mass at other wedding ceremonies before, but then they had interested him just as much as his Latin lessons as a child. This one was his own. The incomprehensible words Pabius spoke were directed at Gawain — words that had never been spoken to him before, despite the many women he had known and the children he had sired.

Normally, the ceremony would have taken place before the church door, but they did not want to attract the attention that might bring, not yet, despite the fact that this marriage was meant to be a deliberate provocation. But the trap had not yet been laid.

It was not the time of year for flowers, so someone from the village had hurriedly decorated the small stone church with holly and ribbons. The altar was draped in bright red, probably a swathe of wool intended for a new cloak, while candles and torches helped banish the grayness of the short winter day.

The farmers, carpenters and blacksmiths Gawain had been trying to teach only that morning were arrayed behind them, along with his brothers Gaheris and Gareth and the rest of the men who had accompanied them from the monastery. Without looking, Gawain knew that Gareth would be grinning broadly and Gaheris frowning. But when it came down to it, the only thing Gaheris could object to was that Ragnell had no beauty, or at least no beauty on one half of her face. The match itself was quite good; Ragnell's father had been a minor king of Elmet. Gawain would now be related to most of the kings in northern Britain, could probably take the title of king himself if he so chose. Which he did not. It would feel odd to take the title of king when Arthur never had.

So now Gawain would be married to a queen — just not the queen he had once intended to marry.

No, this was his wedding; he should not start thinking about Yseult. But of course as soon as he commanded himself not to think of her, that was all he could do: her betrayal, her rejection of him. In his rational moments, he knew it was no betrayal. She had never pretended to love him, had wanted to keep their relationship at no more than the occasional night together. It was not as if she had fallen in love with Cador either; the marriage had been Arthur's idea.

He recalled a conversation with Arthur after Yseult had told him she intended to marry another — and why.

"You knew of our affair," Gawain had stormed. "Why could you not have suggested she marry me?"

Arthur had smiled at that — smiled! "Forgive me, nephew, but I have never had the impression before that an affair on your part was an indication that you wished to marry the woman in question."

Gawain was too upset to admit the humor of the situation. "Well, this time I did."

"I'm sorry, Gawain," Arthur said, the smile vanishing. "I truly did not know. But my goal was a political alliance that would strengthen Dumnonia. How could a marriage between you and Yseult have achieved such an aim?"

He knew well enough — it couldn't. He had no political clout in the south other than the ear of the Dux Bellorum, and no property other than his small villa. Strangely enough, here in the north, a place he had rarely been in the last decade and more, he had more status. Yes, he and his brothers had been passed by for the kingship, but they were still part of the kinship group from which future kings would be chosen. With this marriage, Gawain had made it possible for his descendants to become king where he had not — not only here in Elmet, but in Rheged and among the Gododdin as well.

Ragnell squeezed his elbow, bringing him back to the present. Pabius spoke a final blessing, followed by "Amen," which the smattering of guests echoed. Then Pabius switched to the British tongue. "Gawain and Ragnell, you exchanged vows in writing this afternoon in the marriage contract you drew up together and signed. You now have the formal blessing of the church as well. Would you care to repeat your vows in front of those gathered here today?"

Ragnell nodded and threw back her veil defiantly. Gawain smiled at the stubborn tilt of her chin as she faced him and took his hands; if she only knew how little the scars covering the left half of her face bothered him now, how used to them he had become in the few weeks he had known her.