* * * *
"Well, Rowena?" came the impatient voice. "What do you see?"
I bent over the foggy depths of the crystal, staring blankly and receiving nothing. "I have already told you," I said patiently, "that this is not the method of divining that I am accustomed to."
The Hengist had taken me to his stronghold, to the south-east of Londinium. I was sitting in the elegant study of a heavily barricaded castle, with a priceless crystal orb before me. My belly was full of rich foods and good wine, and for the first time in years, I was wearing a new, well-cut and pressed dress, finer indeed than anything I had owned before. What reason did I have to be unhappy, or to disobey my kind benefactor?
Yet here he was, the dark and brooding Hengist, staring at me intently. He had seen to it that I was quite happy with my surroundings before asking me to divine, or indeed, testing my magical skills at all. But now I was supposed to prove myself by showing him where the Picts would strike next.
"I cannot always search for a moment," I told him. "Usually they come to me, floating along like leaves in a river."
He furrowed his brow. "That will not do. Try again, and tomorrow we will see." He stood, the top of his ferocious head brushing against the ceiling, and walked out the door, closing it behind him.
I concentrated all my energy on the ball, waving my hands over it as I had seen the gypsies do. Still nothing. I stared at the ball until it bored into my skull, and I no longer saw it's surface, but instead, a million twinkling stars. I sighed, slumping back into my chair, and lay like that for quite some time.
Then I relaxed, my body, my arms, my hands and fingertips… all the way down to my toes. Reopening my eyes, I stood, raising my arms, and cried out in Latin…
"Winds, fours parts of one whole, obey me, come to me, seek my council! Salamander, Zephyr, Dusketha, Breama… I command you four! Four winds, four seasons, four elements, four names – I command you all: ARISE!"
Through the long, narrow windows came a great gust of wind enshrouding me. It beat me about, twirling me in a tight spiral. I remained calm, I did not cry out. Then – silence.
I opened my eyes. When I say this, I do not mean physically, for my eyes had remained open throughout the whirlwind. And yet, suddenly I could see, clearer than ever before. I was standing on a plain. It was springtime and wildflowers were blooming, scenting the air. I began to walk.
I walked many days and nights and saw many things before I arrived at the scene I had been sent in search of. I came out of the bitter cold of winter, where the world had been cloaked in a blanket of white, with ice like cold diamonds glittering from the trees. There I arrived on a battlefield, used many times before. The bones of soldiers lay, sun-bleached and forlorn on the plain. The grass was low and dry, a scrubby surface. I bent down and picked up the dirt, inhaling deeply. It was a foreign scent. A lone raven flew overhead, circling the ruins. I called out to him.
"Tell me where I am, my friend!"
He circled once more, then swooped down and landed gently on my shoulder. "You are lost, dear child," he sang, "and far away from home. If you give me a token, I will tell you the way."
I nodded, and fished through my pocket for the piece of silver I had requested earlier. He plucked it out of my hand with his claw and examined it. "You are far to the north," he said, "almost to the borders of Caledonia. The natives are fleeing before a great army of pestilence that has been invading their land."
I furrowed my brow. "But the Jutes are saving Britannia from the Picts," I said. "The Picts are the pestilence."
The bird shrugged his glistening wings in a funny manner. "These people are of this land," he replied. "They are the chosen."
I frowned. "What day is this?"
"The 66th day of winter, of the year 453."
I nodded. "And from which way do the invaders come?"
"Your Jutes arrive from the south, and drive the people of Caledonia to the north," he said, admiring his silver.
"Thank you friend. You are free to go."
"As you wish," the raven replied, spreading his wings and flying away. I closed my eyes, and called up the winds, which were heavy and sick with the heat of the sun.
That night I requested my nurse to lead me to him. I repeated what the raven had told me. His eyes glittered strangely.
"May I ask you something?" I questioned, cautiously.
"Certainly," he replied.
I pressed my lips together. "Are the Picts really dangerous?"
His dark eyes grew wide, and he grinned. "Dangerous? My dear, they cut off the heads of children, and stick them on posts by the roadside, and you ask if they are dangerous! Yes my dear, they are a threat to your very way of life. We are here to save you, the Britons – do you see?"
I nodded.
He gently cuffed my cheek and smiled. "Thank you, Rowena. You are assisting in the good fight." He continued pining the small points onto the great map. When I craned over his shoulder to see, he said gently, "That will be all, Rowena,"
* * * *
The dreams started not soon after that. I was lying in bed, lulling between sleep and awake, when a curious noise caught my attention.
There was a great crackling, and I cried out to my mother. I thought that someone was crumbling my beloved parchments into dust. Then I breathed in the smoke.
I opened my eyes. Great flames, all brilliant hues of red and yellow, flashed around me. In the air was the thick smell of burning hair, burning flesh. I cried out again as I realized that I was on fire. But I could not move, could not reach my wand. All I could do was scream.
That is, until the cold water was dashed upon me.
"Rowena!" cried my nurse, slapping my face. "Rowena! It's a dream lamb, only a dream!"
The water shocked me to my senses. I sat up, gasping for air like a freshly caught fish. I sat in a puddle of water – my nightshirt was drenched, my hair plastered to my forehead, my bed was already reeking of wet straw and lambs wool.
I turned to the nurse. "Thank you," I said, swallowing deeply. "Now get me a basin, for I fear I will be ill."
* * * *
It was many months before I was asked to see the Hengist again. Nurse knocked softly, then entered the room. "The Hengist requests an audience with you," she said. "Let's get you dressed."
I pulled on the heavy green dress, and nurse tied the back. After she was finished combing my hair, and I had found a suitable pair of slippers, she bid me rise. I followed her down one long hall, and then another. Her candle cast a spooky glow on the dark stone walls that made me think of the fairy stories I had been told as a small child. Finally, we arrived at a great oak door. It swung open before us.
The Hengist and his brother sat at the end of the hall. At their side stood a ragged messenger. But from his face, I could tell that he brought good tidings. The Hengist saw me and smiled.
"Well, Rowena, my little sibyl, it seems you were right! The Picts are fleeing with the approach of my cavalry. Well done! It seems you bring me good fortune." Then his tone grew more serious. "Would you consider joining my noble family?"
For a moment I was taken aback, thinking he wanted out of me the same thing that Phineas had requested. My face must have shown my shock, for he continued.
"I have always wished for a son, but it was not to be. My wife died, years ago in childbirth. She… and my son… are buried far away, across the sea. Yet I would love to have you as a daughter. What do you say, Rowena, child of Londinium? Are you willing to join my house?"
I couldn't help but smile with relief. "Yes sir."
"Father," he chortled, "Father, dear daughter!"
It was not until I returned to my room for the night, and had blown out my candle that I reflected upon that title. What would Bram of Ravenwood think of this? A wish had been granted, but in an unexpected way. I sighed into the night.
* * * *
After several weeks, I grew more familiar with the castle, and it's passageways. Daily I would explore, and each day I would find something new and just as interesting as the last. In fact, I was in search of the library when I ran across something almost as entrancing.
I wandered down another drafty hall, and into a large room. The walls were hung with tapestries, and at the top of the room was a long table. I knew this must be where they held the great feasts, with dancing and music afterwards. Quite an exciting event, from what I had heard. I walked to the center of the room, and twirled, examining it in all directions. My light footsteps echoed in the great space. I smiled.
"Good evening, gentle sir," I said, curtsying low to the invisible partner in front of me. Then I lifted my palm in the air, and turned a few tight circles, as I had seen the ladies do in festivals in the square, weaving in and out in lines. "Pom-pom-pom," I mouthed, letting breathes of air escape in a weak imitation of the music. "Pom-pom-pom."
I was halfway through a twirl when I noticed him. Immediately, I straightened, holding down my swirling skirt.
He had been standing in the doorway, for how long, I was not certain. He was smiling though, and he spoke in a pleasant voice.
"Good day madam. Were you admiring the hall?"
I blushed scarlet, but answered. "Yes, in fact, that is exactly what I was doing."
He strode forth into the room, and sighed, staring up at the high ceiling. "I'm afraid it's a bit lonesome in here when a feast day is long past."
I nodded silently. He raised a hand to his chin, and stroked his neat beard thoughtfully. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure of your acquaintance. What might your name be?"
I shook my head, embarrassed that I had forgotten my manners. "Rowena. My name is Rowena."
"Ah," he tilted back his head, and looked at me more thoughtfully. "The Hengist's daughter."
I blushed once more. "Yes, that's right."
"Well, Rowena," he said, bowing deeply, "may I escort you in this dance?"
My cheeks were aflame, but I laughed as well. "Certainly, kind sir."
He was a good dancer, quite hard to keep up with. But, by some bit of luck, I managed, completing the final pass palm to palm, staring directly into his blue eyes. Although he was a good bit older than me, I realized I was almost his height. I had grown quite a bit in recent years. When he finally bowed, I realized the dance was over.
"Well, lovely Rowena, I must be on my way. I have a great many things to attend to."
I stood smiling in the center of the floor and watched him until he reached the door. Then I realized I had forgotten to ask…
"Oh, sir! Pardon me for asking, but – what is your name?"
He stopped again in the doorway and turned. "I am Vortigern, king of Britannia. Good day Rowena."
And with that he left.
* * * *
Several times in my life with the Hengist, I asked to be taken to the battlefront. I wanted to see if it were truly as awful as I saw it to be. Everything seemed sharper in the world between the winds – the colors, the smell of dried blood, the heat and bitter cold, the feel of the silver that I offered to my ravens in my hand. But each time I asked, the Hengist refused. "You are too young, too delicate, Rowena," he would say.
The first time this happened I had crossed my arms and pouted. "Too young to see it in life, but I have to live it very night in my dreams."
He looked at me sharply. "What dreams?"
Now that I had his attention, I could play coy. I shrugged. "Only dreams."
He grabbed me by the arms, a bit roughly, and gazed directly into my eyes. "What dreams, Rowena." It was a command, not a question. I quailed.
"Horrible dreams," I said. "Of my village burning. Of fire and green lights that strike people dead."
He nodded. "Yes. All that happens in battle."
"But this is not a battle," I cried. "It's my village, or one just like it."
He shrugged. "There are many villages, Rowena, many villages. But there is only one battle."
He spoke no more about my dreams, but continued to press me about the location of the Picts. But gradually, his questions became more peculiar. He wanted to know of goings-on in the east, asking about a band of deserters. "All Britons," he told me, "taking refuge in small towns along the way. I wish to stop them before they reach Cambria, and show them the price of betrayal." And I continued to help him, knowing not what I was doing.
Aside from the divinations, I lived the life of a lady of the court. I dressed well, ate well, had my own servants, attended parties as they did. It was in the spring, at one of these parties, that I saw Vortigern again.
He was standing, away from the crowd, surrounded by ladies of the court, all hoping to become Queen before the year was out. He looked unhappy. He caught my eye, and nodded, but did not smile. There was a sudden whispering all about me, from other ladies who had seen the nod. They giggled behind their pale hands. I looked at them in distain. I had never grown used to giggling. I decided to escape to my favorite haunt.
The royal library was large for the day, though most of the books in it were quite dull. But it was still a good place to go and think, a place little used by the court.
As I sat down with a thick tome, I heard a distinct footstep upon the slate floor. I drew my hand into my robes, clutching my wand. I was always afraid of attackers. I anxiously awaited the intruders next step.
I gave a sigh of relief when I saw the king. "Oh," I breathed, "it's only you."
My voice carried across the room, and he caught every word, raising his head in mock surprise. "Only me?"
"I meant… I thought…" For the first time in my life, I was tongue-tied. He smiled.
"Who were you expecting? The Picts perhaps?"
I shook my head at this, looking away out the window at the party.
"Why did you leave?" he asked.
"I wanted to be alone," I responded simply.
He exhaled. "Yes, I know what that is like. But sometimes one's duty requires otherwise."
I nodded. "I am happy to be free of duties."
He looked at me sharply. "But you are not," he said. "You serve the Hengist."
"I assist him," I replied, "out of my own good will."
He raised an eyebrow, then tried a different tack. "Your father – your true father, I mean – was a Lord, was he not?"
"Yes, but he married my mother, a commoner, which prohibits my ladyship. But then again," I said with a slight smile, "I suppose if I were a lady I would be required to be down at the ball."
"And who would required you?" he asked.
I thought for a moment. "You, I suppose."
"And what if I required you, simple Rowena, to attend?"
"I would not be bound by my rank to obey."
He hid a smile. "And what if I asked politely, like a true gentleman."
"Then," I said, "perhaps I would accept."
He laughed. "You have become quite a woman, little Rowena."
"Thank you, good sir," I responded.
"Good sir, is it? I thought you were not a lady."
"One does not have to be a lady to be lady-like, sir."
He was about to respond when a horn sounded. "Damn," he cursed. "They're calling me." Then he turned to me and bowed. "Fare thee well, good Rowena."
I stood to curtsy. "Fare thee well, my King."
I did not see him again until fall of that year, at the harvest banquet. Many extra rows of tables had been set up around the dance floor, and I was sitting by the Hengist, on the right side of the hall. I had been enjoying the grace of the dancers when my adoptive father spoke.
"Rowena, dear, if my eyes serve me well, I see you have attracted the attention of someone who's station is greater than I could hope."
I raised my eyebrows, certain that he was jesting.
The Hengist only nodded, looking straight ahead. I glanced up. There, on his throne, sat Vortigern, staring down at us. He nodded deeply, his blue eyes betraying no emotion. "How can you tell?" I whispered, playing along.
"He has been watching you all evening. And he has refused to dance, which is quite unlike him."
A memory of a young girl and her partner dancing in this room several years before came to mind. I smiled inwardly.
The Hengist continued. "If we put our heads together on his… and if all goes well… in due time, he will ask for your hand in marriage."
"And what will I say to this proposal?" I laughed, a bit indignant.
"Yes." I looked at my adoptive father. There was no humor in his eyes. My laughter was silenced.
"You are my daughter, Rowena," he continued, "but I must ask you to do this, for the sake of peace in Britannia. Vortigern is a pleasant enough fellow, and he will treat you well, but he will soon forget his debt to us if some bond is not made hastily. You must understand, the future of this country lies to the east. I need your help Rowena – for peace, dear girl, you must help me."
I closed my eyes, my brow furrowing, yet I nodded.
"Very good," he whispered, in a conspiratorial manner. "I'm sure he will exchange his crown for the beauty of my daughter. I will begin my arrangements tonight." And with that, he lifted a finger, and beckoned a servant.
"Tell the good king that Hengist wishes a dance partner for his lovely daughter." The page nodded, and scurried off to relay the message. Vortigern's eyes brightened visibly as he received the news. He looked at me and smiled. I averted my eyes, but smiled demurely. I knew how to play games, even if I took no fun from them.
As Vortigern approached the table, and held out his hand, the Hengist raised his bushy brows and whispered…
"Remember, Rowena… for peace in Britannia."
I nodded and let my king sweep me away.
* * * *
"Hand me the chain, would you Enid?"
The nurse scuttled away from the looking glass where I stood, comb in one hand, inspecting myself. There was to be another party tonight, for an unspecified holiday. I was certain that the Hengist had a hand in it somehow. I was wearing a fine dress of deep blue, lined with animals woven of green, red and gold ribbons. My dark hair was up and dressed with several chains already, and my nurse and I had been contemplating the addition of yet another. As a curl pushed loose, I slicked it back into place with water from the basin. Nurse wound the chain around my head.
"Whoops!" She fumbled to retrieve the end she had dropped over my forehead. I brushed her hand aside.
"Leave it, I like the look of it. In fact… hand me that pendant, over there. Yes, that's it. Now let me have it."
Gingerly, I worked the golden clasp around the chain, so that the brooch hung between my brows like a diadem.
"Loverly, marm," she crowed gleefully. "Every knight will want to dance with you this evening."
"And every king," I murmured under my breath, "if everything goes well."
Indeed, it was at that ball that he asked me if I had his permission to speak to his father. I agreed, and they stayed up late into the night, discussing my fate behind closed doors. Eventually I grew weary of my waiting, and retired to bed. In the morning, the Hengist visited me in my chamber.
"It's just another battle, my dear," he said wearily. "I have delayed his request for marriage. It will whet his appetite, and make him desire you even more." He saw me frown at this. "I know dear… but soon all of this will be over, and you will be Queen, and I will hold Britannia in my hand."
I said nothing as he turned to leave, but thought to myself that no matter how hard he tried, Britannia would merely slip between his fingers like dust, no matter how hard he tightened his grip.
* * * *
Vortigern's proposal was not at all how I had imagined. He had been holding council with the Hengist for several weeks now, long deliberate talks that I felt for certain could not be about me. But not soon after, he caught me in the corridor. He was breathless, as if he had been running a long distance to catch up with me. I greeted him with a smile. "Good day my king."
"Good day, fair Rowena," he responded. "Could I ask your assistance in a matter that has been troubling me?"
"That depends on the matter," I responded.
"I have lost a few simple baubles, though they are very dear to me. I was wondering if you could help me find them?"
I knew he was playing games, but I decided to play along. "And where did you see this treasure last?" I inquired.
"Well," he said, raising a brow, "I happen to have here a map that leads to the treasure, but I need help deciphering it."
"Mmm-hmm…"
"Here," he said, thrusting it into my hands. "See what you can make of it."
It was a simple map really, of the castle, and the forest that surrounded it. The trail led outside. I started walking, and he followed, his smile growing with each step.
We reached the point in the lawn where the trail ended, at the edge of the woods. I examined the tree in front of me. It was widely known to be the oldest tree on the property. I looked up at it's leaves. Blooming amongst them was a single crimson flower. I turned to Vortigern.
"Pray, hand me that flower good sir."
He did so.
Of course, there was a verse wrapped around the stem. I unraveled it. He peered over my shoulder as I read aloud…
"Come find me in the forest green,
The rarest flower to be seen,
And follow me, if will recall,
To the waters by the…
"Fall," I finished where the parchment did not. It was a simple verse, quite transparent, yet charming. I led the way to the fall, less than half way down the stream that ran into the castle moat. There, Vortigern took me by the hand. "I have a confession to make," he said.
"That this has all been an elaborate ruse?" I responded, brow cocked.
He smiled at me. "Very good, milady. Now, I have something to show you, though I'm afraid your dress may get a bit wet."
Holding my hand tightly, he made his way across the front of the falls, the water spraying us with it's cool mist. Then, with a sudden yank from his firm hand, my feet left the ground, and I was behind the waterfall, and in his arms.
"Pardon me," said, rather embarrassed as he set me down. "Now excuse me while I go retrieve your prize." He hurried to the back of the cave, and came back holding a locked chest. "Oh, Damn!" he said suddenly, "I've forgotten the key."
"No need," I said, bringing out my wand. "Alohomora." The box swung open. Vortigern's eye's darted between my wand and me. He knew what I was, but still, I could tell he was nervous. I ignored this, and instead peered into the chest. "Lumos," I whispered.
"Rowena," he said, catching my chin before I looked down, "would you accept the honor of becoming Britannia's next queen, the honor of being my wife?" I lowered my eyes.
The glitter astounded me at once. The box he held out was full of precious jewels – golden rings for fingers and ears, and chains for necks. Diadems to adorn one's brow, and purse covers adorned with intricate animals – birds and wild beasts. I traced the form of an eagle with a gentle finger. "I accept," I whispered, just as I had been instructed to do.
He reached into the chest, and drew out a heavy ring, encrusted with precious jewels. He placed it gently on my head. "Lady Rowena, Queen of Britannia," he said in a soft voice. I couldn't help but smile.
* * * *
We were married on a Sunday, at the end of May, in a procession with flowers and carriages. There was a great feast afterwards, and a celebration with dancing and games. Children ran about the maypole, and even the dogs joined in the festivities. Minstrels came form miles around, and musical groups played in every square across the city. It was a day of national celebration. I wondered if my mother would hear the news, as I sat at the high table, holding my bridegrooms hand.
He smiled down at me lovingly. For him this had been more than a deal, it had been something he had wanted for quite some time. He had whispered this to me in the forest a few days earlier, as he had scooted across the middle of the bench, toward me, entwining his fingers with mine.
And I respected him, even if I did not love him the way he loved me. That would come in time, I supposed. I was only sixteen, after all.
Now he tugged at my hand impatiently, pointing to the mime in front of us. He laughed as people began to boo, and throw their dinners at the poor fellow. I hid my smile with a delicate hand. Over the course of four years I had managed to become a lady. I looked down and smoothed my dress. The blossoms from the wreath in my hair were beginning to wilt and fall over my dress, covering the purple velvet and the white linen with golden petals. He distracted me by pulling up my hand, and kissing it's back. Onlookers cheered. I smiled graciously at him, then used my free hand to wave at the crowd.
"Lady Rowena, Queen of Britannia," a herald called out, ignoring the fact that my new husband was merely a puppet figure and the other fact that Britannia was no longer – and would never again be – the place the name referred to.
There were to be eleven more days of these festivities, and already my smile was growing fixed. But today was the most important day – and tonight even more important. As Vortigern led me to his chamber that evening, I put away any dreams I had once had. I was Queen, what more could one hope for? For the sake of the Hengist, for the peace of my country, I would submit myself. As he gently unhooked the brooch at my shoulder, I closed my eyes, and saw only there a crown.
* * * *