"Oh, yes," Father Elidor nodded, "they flow like this year round. I've never seen them run dry, not even during a drought." He cupped his hand into the well they had paused beside, dipping up a palmful to sip, scattering droplets that lost themselves amongst the spatters of rain falling.
"A pity we can't harness it, somehow," Myrddin murmured.
Covianna began to laugh. "Oh, Myrddin, I don't think the Saxons will fall into that particular trap twice in one war."
He grimaced, then gave her a rueful smile. "No, I don't suppose they would. Has anyone ever tried to find the source of the Glastenning springs? Might there be caverns under the Tor where people could shelter?"
Covianna glanced at her mother, who was watching Myrddin through narrowed eyes, a look he missed, as Myrddin was gazing at the abbot. Elidor hesitated, clearly taken by surprise on a subject he'd obviously never considered, then dredged up an answer. "Well, we've the cold cellars, of course, beneath the abbey, where we store wines and smoked meats and other foodstuffs, and the cellars were built into a natural cavern, such as it is. It's very small and shallow. So far as I know, there's no connection with any other caverns."
Covianna's mother glanced warningly at Covianna, then said smoothly, "There are legends in our family lore, stories that the first smithies on the Tor were built by a race of dark dwarves, magical beings worshiped in the old days. The stories say the dark ones of the Tor lived in fantastical caverns deep in the hill and sold their magical weapons to men in exchange for what the dwarves wanted most: firstborn children. But these are very old stories, mere legends. If such caverns did exist, we've never found any trace of them. And our children find their way into the most amazing nooks and corners you could imagine. If the caverns were real, someone among us would have found them. Years ago, no doubt."
The abbot was smiling. "Vivienna doesn't exaggerate the children's curiosity. They do get into everything and manage to slip in everywhere."
Vivienna turned a mortified glance on the aging abbot. "Oh, dear, they've not been trouble, have they?"
"No, no," he laughed, "nothing serious. Just playing games, hiding and seeking, treasure hunts, exploring in the dead of night with a guttering candle, daring one another, all the typical games we played as children ourselves."
Covianna chuckled. "I remember my cousins teasing me mercilessly until I gave in and tiptoed into the abbey's root cellar one midnight. There was a new moon and everything was black as pitch. My horrid cousins sneaked in behind me and barred the cellar door, leaving me stranded in the midst of the carrots and onions and turnips. I didn't sleep all night. Poor Father Gildas found me next morning, stiff with fright and wrapped up in some old sacking I found on a shelf before my candle went out. And there was absolutely no trace of another cave. Believe me, I looked."
They shared a laugh, then the fitful gusts turned to a steady downpour, effectively ending the excursion. The labyrinth's walls cast long shadows down the flanks of the hill as they hurried toward shelter.
"You may wish to impose upon Father Elidor for a bed tonight," Vivienna offered as they returned to the hillcrest, "as most of us have children who would have to be shifted, but the village would never forgive me if I didn't insist that you share our supper. We'll make a real feast of it, open up the meeting hall for dancing and music."
"I am honored," Myrddin inclined his head graciously.
"You are most welcome as well, Elidor."
The abbot smiled. "I, too, would be honored. Myrddin, I'll show you where to find your room tonight, in case I retire earlier than you choose."
They parted, with Myrddin and the abbot kissing both Vivienna's and Covianna's cheeks, and disappeared into the abbey while mother and daughter descended the hill together, heads bent against the stinging cold of the rain. And as she walked, Covianna dreamed of the revenge which would be hers during this lovely, wild night.
Chapter Fifteen
The moon was perfectly poised above the tallest of the Lochmaben Stones, balanced on its very edge, when Father Auliffe, abbot of Caer-Birrenswark Abbey, and Riona Damhnait, Druidess of Dalriada, jointly spoke the words uniting Medraut and Keelin in marriage.
"We are gathered to unite this couple..." Auliffe began, "in the sight of God..."
"With the blessings of the Daghda, Father of the Irish Celts," Riona added, "to join together our two great kingdoms."
Auliffe turned to Medraut, whose knees quaked visibly in the moonlight. "Do you, Medraut, King of Galwyddel and nephew to Morgana, Queen of Ynys Manaw, vow in the sight of God to love, cherish, keep, and protect your bride, Princess Keelin of Dalriada, who will be your sovereign queen, seeking no other?"
"I do so vow," the boy said, with only a slight quaver in his voice.
"And you, Keelin ni Dallan mac Dalriada," Riona spoke by turn, "agree and vow before the gods of your ancestors to honor, love, and help your husband all the days of your life, seeking no comfort, no bed but his?"
Her fingers tightened on Medraut's. "I do so vow," she whispered.
"Then," Father Auliffe said quietly, eyes bright with hope and wonder, "I declare before God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Spirit, that the two of you are joined as one. Let no man come between thee."
"Blessings on thy heads," Riona added, "and may many happy, healthy children play at your hearth."
Keelin blushed furiously, then Medraut turned and lifted trembling hands to her face, bending to kiss her gently. Morgana found it necessary to brush wetness from her eyes and Dallan mac Dalriada blinked a little too rapidly, as well. Young Cleary came forward with the official marriage documents and the new king and queen of Galwyddel signed, laughing nervously over the trembling of their hands. Then it was done and nothing could undo it. Before she could give in to the shakes threatening her own knees, she smiled brightly and kissed her nephew and niece by turn. Dallan mac Dalriada hugged his daughter tightly, then clasped Medraut's arm in the greeting of equals.
"Take wondrous care of my child," Riona translated, "for she is all that is precious to me."
"I will do my best," Medraut vowed, voice cracking slightly, "to give you grandchildren who may be equally precious."
Lailoken, who had stayed back in the shadows during the proceedings, stepped forward with a small wine cask. "A token of my esteem for the king of Dalriada and promise of things to come. Perhaps we might drink a toast to bride and groom?"
Dallan mac Dalriada accepted it gravely, then handed it to one of his men. Father Auliffe said heartily, "Cleary, lad, fetch out the holy communion wine I brought along, nothing but the finest from Rome will do on such an occasion. And the cups, lad."
Something about the glint of Lailoken's eyes caught Morgana's attention for just an instant, then Dallan mac Dalriada was giving orders that the wedding gift be carried back to the ship and Cleary was pouring cups and handing them round and Father Auliffe was making the first toast.
"Long and happy lives, children."
"Long and happy lives," they chorused back.
When the toasts had been made, Morgana said, "Tradition for many generations has seen couples married at this circle led to the caverns below the bluff, sacred caverns, once, and full of auspicious portents, holding as they do the happy moments of union of so many generations of Britons. I have ordered a bridal bower prepared, with a fine bed, oil lamps for lighting the grotto, and plenty of food and wine. Dallan mac Dalriada, you are graciously welcome to ride with us to Caer-Birrenswark upon the dawn, to see your child safely upon the throne of Galwyddel."