Read Online The Eagle and the Raven by Pauline Gedge - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Pauline Gedge
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deep inside you.” She touched his loins and he started as if he had been scalded. “There, in a place where your mind has no power.
If you do not marry me you will have no peace, not ever.”
“You are wrong,” he flared, his reckless pride stung. “Already I have had enough of you, Aricia. You have nothing more to give me and I am sorry we began this. You are no longer a pleasant diversion.”
“Liar!” She slapped him across the face with the flat and then the back of her hand, once, twice, and turned on her heel, pushing blindly through the undergrowth. He ran and caught her up, heedless of the branches and thorns that caught at his hair and whipped across his forehead, bringing blood.
“Aricia, listen to me! Tell your father that you will not go! Tell him….”
But she shouted over her shoulder, “Perhaps I should go! Perhaps I have been here too long and Subidasto is right! Where is your honor, wolfling? What wasting disease invades the mighty Catuvellauni?”
When she reached her horse she leaped upon it, tore the reins from the tree and whipped the animal madly, and it careened down the path in a startled gallop, mud flying from the hoofs. Caradoc followed slowly in a mood of exasperated despondency. The pouch had been left behind, and so had a certain vision of himself, shattered among the tall grasses where the goddess combed her wet hair and played with his golden ring.
When he arrived back the stables were in pandemonium. A crowd of freemen pressed about the open circle where the horses were walked in the early morning, and Caradoc heard enraged shouts even before he handed the reins to the stable slave and tried to push his way through. There stood Cinnamus, a grim smile on his face and his drawn sword in his hand. Togodumnus was shedding his cloak and tying back his hair.
“What is it? What has happened?” Caradoc called to Cinnamus as Togodumnus tugged his sword from its scabbard.
“Your brother has accused me of freeing all his breeding stock in the night, Lord, and driving them far afield.”
Cinnamus turned to reply, a look of pure, venomous delight in his calm green eyes. “He has rounded up some fifty of them, but apparently thirty are still wandering in the woods. How he comes to blame me I do not know.” The eyes dared Caradoc to interfere but showed no guilt. Cinnamus had merely thought again about the agreement and decided upon his own revenge. He had nothing to reproach himself for. “Come then, Lordling whelp,” he said, bringing his sword whistling down in a great arc. “Teach me the lesson you promised me, for I have need of such learning.”
Togodumnus stepped toward him, teeth bared, and Caradoc stepped back. He could do nothing. It had gone too far for words. But do not kill him, Cinnamus old friend, he prayed, or I will then be forced to kill you to prevent a blood feud. Cinnamus knew this, but his anger had burned slow and long, and all watching read Togodumnus’s death in his eyes. Caradoc turned and sent a servant running for Cunobelin, then sat down cross-legged on the wet ground. The crowd did the same and the two young men circled one another, testing their defenses. With a cry Togodumnus hurled himself upon Cinnamus, aiming a slashing blow at the legs, but Cinnamus sprang up and the blade cut only air. Before Togodumnus had time to regain his balance, Cinnamus moved in with a great swing that curved straight for Togodumnus’s neck, but the lad slipped on the slick earth and the blade did nothing more than rip his tunic from his shoulder. Cinnamus waited for Togodumnus to rise, saying nothing, not taunting, and Togodumnus raised his sword, grasping the hilt in both hands. Cinnamus stood still, watching, waiting, knowing where the next blow would fall. His shoulder tingled in anticipation, and then it came with the full force of Togodumnus’s weight behind it. Cinnamus moved like lightning, and there was a jarring, crunching sound as the blades slid together.
If you do not marry me you will have no peace, not ever.”
“You are wrong,” he flared, his reckless pride stung. “Already I have had enough of you, Aricia. You have nothing more to give me and I am sorry we began this. You are no longer a pleasant diversion.”
“Liar!” She slapped him across the face with the flat and then the back of her hand, once, twice, and turned on her heel, pushing blindly through the undergrowth. He ran and caught her up, heedless of the branches and thorns that caught at his hair and whipped across his forehead, bringing blood.
“Aricia, listen to me! Tell your father that you will not go! Tell him….”
But she shouted over her shoulder, “Perhaps I should go! Perhaps I have been here too long and Subidasto is right! Where is your honor, wolfling? What wasting disease invades the mighty Catuvellauni?”
When she reached her horse she leaped upon it, tore the reins from the tree and whipped the animal madly, and it careened down the path in a startled gallop, mud flying from the hoofs. Caradoc followed slowly in a mood of exasperated despondency. The pouch had been left behind, and so had a certain vision of himself, shattered among the tall grasses where the goddess combed her wet hair and played with his golden ring.
When he arrived back the stables were in pandemonium. A crowd of freemen pressed about the open circle where the horses were walked in the early morning, and Caradoc heard enraged shouts even before he handed the reins to the stable slave and tried to push his way through. There stood Cinnamus, a grim smile on his face and his drawn sword in his hand. Togodumnus was shedding his cloak and tying back his hair.
“What is it? What has happened?” Caradoc called to Cinnamus as Togodumnus tugged his sword from its scabbard.
“Your brother has accused me of freeing all his breeding stock in the night, Lord, and driving them far afield.”
Cinnamus turned to reply, a look of pure, venomous delight in his calm green eyes. “He has rounded up some fifty of them, but apparently thirty are still wandering in the woods. How he comes to blame me I do not know.” The eyes dared Caradoc to interfere but showed no guilt. Cinnamus had merely thought again about the agreement and decided upon his own revenge. He had nothing to reproach himself for. “Come then, Lordling whelp,” he said, bringing his sword whistling down in a great arc. “Teach me the lesson you promised me, for I have need of such learning.”
Togodumnus stepped toward him, teeth bared, and Caradoc stepped back. He could do nothing. It had gone too far for words. But do not kill him, Cinnamus old friend, he prayed, or I will then be forced to kill you to prevent a blood feud. Cinnamus knew this, but his anger had burned slow and long, and all watching read Togodumnus’s death in his eyes. Caradoc turned and sent a servant running for Cunobelin, then sat down cross-legged on the wet ground. The crowd did the same and the two young men circled one another, testing their defenses. With a cry Togodumnus hurled himself upon Cinnamus, aiming a slashing blow at the legs, but Cinnamus sprang up and the blade cut only air. Before Togodumnus had time to regain his balance, Cinnamus moved in with a great swing that curved straight for Togodumnus’s neck, but the lad slipped on the slick earth and the blade did nothing more than rip his tunic from his shoulder. Cinnamus waited for Togodumnus to rise, saying nothing, not taunting, and Togodumnus raised his sword, grasping the hilt in both hands. Cinnamus stood still, watching, waiting, knowing where the next blow would fall. His shoulder tingled in anticipation, and then it came with the full force of Togodumnus’s weight behind it. Cinnamus moved like lightning, and there was a jarring, crunching sound as the blades slid together.
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