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Prologue
Northern Lights
As they penetrate the upper atmosphere, the highly energetic electrons [in the solar wind, which is an outward flow of particles from the sun] slam into oxygen and nitrogen atoms and cause them to glow.... The oxygen glows whitish green; the nitrogen glows pink. Those shimmering curtains of light are the auroras, which are visible from the ground [and in the northern hemisphere are called the northern lights].
Eric J. Lerner, "Space Weather'"
The aurora borealis pulsed extraordinarily bright under the starlit sky of Gwynedd Province, northern Wales. The exceptional sky lights flared into a green arch and spread downward like a gauzy curtain bordered in pale red.
Brenda, Prince Owain's mistress, pushed her reddish brown hair out of her dark eyes and watched the sheer, shimmering light. Then she walked away from the castle, whose shadow fell outside the bailey wall, past the guest cottages and stables. When she reached the gate guard, she gazed at the play of colors reflected from the craggy white peaks of the Snowdon Mountains. She lowered her head, as was fitting for a woman, and the guard opened the gate and clanked it behind her.
Candlelight flickered inside crofters'' cottages scattered about the Nant Gwynant valley's sheep-grazing land. Stimulated by the radiance, she walked briskly to the wide heel stone that long ago had been planted outside a ring of standing stones now tumbled on their faces. Underneath powdery snow the stones were blackened with weathered lichen and half covered with earth. She brushed the heel stone, boosted herself up and warmed her hands under her arms.
What did the sky lights mean? she wondered. Were they a sign from the gods? Maybe they foretold the beginning of something good. She heard footsteps squeaking in the snow. A shadow fell across the stone, and she looked up into laughing eyes blue as summer flax; a broad-shouldered, blond Viking god.
"Owain, you heard my thoughts!" she cried, tugging on his hand. She shivered with delight when he sat close and his hand enfolded hers. "My Lord, what is the meaning of this glorious glimmering?"
For a moment he watched the lights, then said, "My beloved Brenda, I be not God, High Lord of the heavens and everything underneath, nor Lugh, ruler of the seas. Mayhap, if my youth were different, I would be a shipmaster with a dozen sails; owner of a large shipyard, watching this spectacle from a ship's prow. Next, after you, I love the feel of a rolling sea beneath me as I lie on a ship's deck boards." He put a hand against her cheek and kissed her lips.
She giggled. "Mayhap, if things were different, I would be wife to a wealthy shipbuilder," she said. "I used to have dreams of children, lots of them, here and there, running, standing and dancing. 'Twas strange; they were not small-boned, beautiful, black Welsh laddies, nay." Suddenly her voice turned husky and full of wonderment. "They were more like the ancient Vikings, blue-eyed, full of energy, spontaneous, laughing and crying."
"Sounds like the dream of an ancient druid priestess looking for a wee wood-nymph that is able to be here and there at die same time. A real traveler. Mayhap 'tis a reflection of thineself. witty, melancholy, primitive, refined, hunting for new lands. Are you studying the Old Religion?"
Brenda squinted her eyes and smiled. "Nay, I be studying the sky. 'Tis telling us something. I have a premonition of a great event. What are your thoughts?"
"I think you are full of paradoxes," he said. "Your mind is too deep for a female and would disturb most men. But you intrigue me, and I find it strange you would dream about blue-eyed children. I gave you a dark-eyed son and a green-eyed daughter. Next time dream about what your Irish father is teaching them. He might be telling them that their mother is a kelpie who loves water more than land. That is why they never see her."
"Oh, I want go to Ireland to see my babies just as soon as Lady Gladys has tried drinking nettle tea and eating muffins to keep her well," said Brenda.
"There is the proof you are a kelpie. They have great medical skill, confer the knowledge on chosen humans and heal others before thinking of themselves."
"'Twas my dear mother who bestowed love of healing on me. She passed away before I learned half what she knew. Mayhap she was a kelpie!" She raised her eyes to the sky. "Tell me, what is the meaning of this night? What do you think?"
"Moments ago I lay on my pallet," he said, "thinking of the New Religion clergy who vow to be celibate, and I longed for you, just as those fool clerics continue to long for their favorite Cymraes, Welsh lady. When I was certain Gladys was asleep, I came out to breathe fresh air. Her sickness lingers on and on and tires me. I think-nay, I hope-this panorama of sky lights announces the end of my dear wife's suffering. But I know the lights have naught to do with my selfish, shallow thoughts nor hopes. In my memory sky lights have never been so unusual, like a singular beautiful, intelligent woman." He let his lips barely touch hers. "Mayhap these lights tell us that Gwynedd will shine before the world from this night forward."
"Did a druid examine your wife before winter?" asked Brenda.
Aye, Archdruid Llieu left herbs, said she suffers from weak blood and a dry tongue, I should leave her at the Aberffraw court, where the sea air is warm during the winter, and keep her away from sweets."
"Your cousin, Christiannt, told me the god of light and the god of dark fight inside her belly. Who will win?"
Owain shrugged and lay back on the cold stone. He pulled Brenda down, held her close.
She said, "I told the gate guard that the dancing lights were like a rainbow where sunlight shines through raindrops. Moonlight shines through the high layers of fog mist to give us dancing lights at night."
He said, "That is why I be attracted to you and not the gate guard. He is not a thinker who can see rainbows in the day and sky lights in the night are related. You are far too wise for a woman. He told me the sky lights mean one more bloody battle with my brother, Cadwaladr. He reminded me that I sent half a dozen of my eldest sons, with their armies, to drive Cadwaladr into England before he takes over Gwynedd. The guard does not know my scurvy brother took two of my sons hostage to England, threatened to gouge their eyes out and put my head on a stick. My wife fears my days are numbered because soon I will go to London to bring my sons home. Pyfog's son, Howell, will go with me for protection. He will be the next prince of Gwynedd."
Brenda sat up. "Oh, Lord God, be careful. If you die I believe I will die."
"Now you are being silly like an ordinary female," he said. "Life is stronger than death. I lost three sons in the battle for Cynfale Castle. I swallowed the sadness and now sing of the richness of my Welsh life."
"I could not. Thus, I suspect I am truly an ordinary woman. If 1 lost a loved one such as you or one of our children, life would become thin as floss. My heart would never mend. Will Pyfog worry?"
"She is in Dubh Linn. I hardly think of her."
"How long was she with you?"
"Long enough to make a son."
She watched the dancing sky lights and refused acknowledgment of his arm drawing her closer.
"Forget Pyfog," he whispered, "Think of good times. When your father gave you permission to come to my winter court, you were so innocent. I loved you long before you knew you had brains under that crown of chestnut hair."
She looked at him through her dark lashes and said, "My darling Welsh mother was dead, and I had no one to ask about such things as brains or beauty. I believed I was simple because I could hardly wait for your answers to my questions and I thought longer and thus was slower than your other serving maids, until the day I boiled clothes and lay them on the meadow grass to bleach. My clothes were brighter than theirs and you told me I had earned my own cottage. I could not believe a maid like me could be so honored for such a small discovery. My mind was in a tangle, but I remembered to make a proper curtsy and say thank you." Her eyes shone as she thought about how that day had changed her life, and she felt an unbidden spark of pleasure.
"You smiled at me and a few days later brought fresh coals to oversee the laying of the new fire pit in my cottage," she went on. "I fed you biscuits and a beaker of mead. My stomach bubbled. You told me to take off my gown, get tinder the robe, and you would sing me to sleep. My heart jumped. You were the prince, the High Lord of Gwynedd, the most handsome man I had ever seen. I was a servant lass, daughter of Howyl ap Donal, lord of tiny Carno, expected to carry out your wishes. Christiannt told me she was in love with you and longed to lie under your furs. I was unsure. You pushed me toward my pallet, sang in the deep voice used for saga songs and made my heart jump into my mouth, so I kept it closed. You pushed the robe down so my shoulders were bare and moved your hand to my throbbing chest. I thought I was going to faint when you kissed my lips. Never had I tasted anything so delicious. You said I was beautiful. I was so excited I opened my mouth and your tongue touched mine. No one ever told me I could feel tingly and happy at the same time."
She saw his smile and felt his hand under her gown pressing against her back. She watched the overhead sea-green scrim unfurl and fold into restless gossamer edged in red. "I remember you took a deep breath and said you were going to couple with me. I wanted to watch you undress, but I was so shy I closed my eyes and moved to the far side of the pallet. You covered me with your body, kissed my eyes, my mouth and my breasts. You parted my legs and did it." A small grimace flickered over her face. "'Twas a tiny torture," she whispered. "I bled. 'Twas not my time. I thought 'twas a shame on me.
"When I got up in the morning I slipped into my gown and everything looked the same, but I was different. My back ached. I wanted to crawl into bed, close my eyes and go back to yesterday. I told myself I would never let anyone do that again. Never! You opened your eyes and said I gave you the greatest pleasure of your entire life. What had I done! Naught! You did it. My eyes overflowed with tears. My memory became a sieve, and I forgot pain and shame and longed to have your arms enfold me. I wanted to feel your hand in the middle of my back. I touched your check. You smiled and said, 'Come inside where 'tis warm.' So I pulled off my gown and lay between your arms. You dried my tears, kissed my face and said, 'I be sorry I hurt you. Next time you will feel only joy, I promise! I said, 'I be ready for next time."'
He cupped his hand around her breast and said, "You were brave and beautiful, like the dancing sky lights."
She put one hand inside his cloak for warmth, felt a tingle run down her back and lodge itself like a spark between her legs. "The bravery was years ago in Ireland, first when I went to my mother's funeral and second when I kissed my father good-bye. 'Twas the time I broke away from childhood."
He took her wool bratt and folded it on the stone for a pallet, pushed her thick hair away from her face, cradled her shoulders, kissed her eyes with lips like butterflies and pulled off her gown but left her boots. He covered her with his cloak, undressed, and lay beside her. The spark between her legs spread. "Soon you will be warm," he said. She put her arms around his neck and pressed her wet cheek against his.
"Do you cry because of the beauty of the heavenly lights?" he asked. "Nay, 'tis for the girl I can never again be," she said.
"Tell me how many others have you truly loved?"
He kissed her salty eyelids. "None as I love thee. This day and always I love thee above all others."
She felt the fever growing, let it come unheeded, and was never happier. I believe the skyborne glimmering foretells joy for thee and me!" she said.
He moved as slowly as he could and when he could not hold himself back, he thrust deeper. Her arms and legs formed circles, keeping his body close. Their cries mingled with the crackling aurora.
Thus, under spectacular Welsh northern lights, in the year 1150 A.D., a special child was conceived over a druid heel stone. His name would be Madoc.
--Excerpted from Circle of Stones by Anna Lee Waldo
