AERON'S FLAME

An excerpt.Bedwyr and Gwynyffyr, a retelling of the Lancelot and Guinevere romance.

Arthur slipped, twisting away from a spear thrust. Instinctively Arthur grasped at the sword to steady himself. The sword moved, coming free of it’s stone scabbard. Arthur gasped as he realized that Caladwylch was free, that he held the magnificent sword. None of the others noticed the sword that Arthur now held. Then four spear heads, neatly cut from their shafts, clattered onto the stone.

The Angles fell back dismayed. The Pictii, recognizing the sword, fled. Cai and Gawain seeing Caladwylch in Arthur’s hand, shouted ” The sword!” Bedwyr turning to see what was the matter, did not see the spear hurled by one of the Angles at his exposed back. Arthur did, Caladwylch flashed, and another spear head clattered onto the bloodied stone, along with Bedwyrs hand, still holding his Spatha.

Bedwyr stared wide eyed at the pulsing stump of his sword arm. Cai tackled him, while Gawain removed his tattered cloak. Arthur, not seeing what had befallen Bedwyr, leaped from the cromlech, laying about with Caladwylch. The Angles fell back. Wherever Arthur struck, he maimed or outright killed. The shields and mail of the Sassanach were no hindrance to Caladwylch's vicious cuts.

The white raven with her sisters, swept in cawing, assaulting the remaining Angles. The Sassanach broke and ran, following their Pictii allies, terrified, leaving at least a dozen dead men behind. Arthur looked about at the carnage, exhilarated, the battle madness slowly fading.

Arthur was heart broken when he saw what he had inadvertently been done to his best friend, Bedwyr. The white raven landed, hopping about cawing, she seemed to flow upward, expanding into the form of a beautiful red haired woman. Cai and Gawain backed away, afraid of magic.

As she approached, Arthur dropped to his knees holding up the bloodied sword to her, ” Help him milady.” He implored. She knelt beside the gray and fading Bedwyr. Cai and Gawain had been unable to stop the bleeding. Touching Bedwyrs wound briefly, she swept him up, easily lifting and carrying the wounded man murmuring softly to him, She walked into the cromlech and They disappeared. She had taken Bedwyr into the sidhe. Into the summer lands.

Cai knelt and began reciting Christian prayers. Gawain merely stared at the cromlech.

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There was the feel of warm honey, soft on his lips. A sweet taste of fire, like cinnamon, that lingered, and roses, the scent of roses. Bedwyr opened his eyes. She was still close, just pulling back from the kiss. Her hair fell like flames around him as he looked up into her eyes. It was like staring into lightning swept skies. Eyes widening in surprise, she sat back with a quiet “Oh”.

She had not really meant to kiss him. Bedwyr smiled, reaching out to touch her amazing hair. It was like fire, flames cascading and enveloping her. He had to touch them. Lightly running his fingers through a strand, he realized, he was touching her with his right hand. The one Caladwylch had claimed.

He had his arm back, whole, healed. Bedwyr knew it was dream at that point. He had his arm, and nothing as beautiful as this woman could possibly exist outside of a dream. This was either a dream, or he was in Tir Na Nagogh. the Isles of summer. Either it was a fever dream, or he was dead and in paradise.

Looking at this woman, Bedwyr decided he didn’t care. Smiling arrogantly, Bedwyr called out to her, ” Hello Beautiful!” Before she could catch herself She smiled back. Bedwyr noticed as she recovered, assuming an neutral expression. She felt oddly nervous, a bit shaky inside. ” That’s good, you are awake! It’s about time!” Standing and moving to the kettle, steaming over the fire, “Have some broth, it will restore you. You lost much blood.” She dipped a bowl into the kettle and returned with it.

Bedwyr ignored the proffered bowl , staring at her. Fascinated by her hair. It changed as she moved. The light playing and flowing across it, like fine spun copper and gold. Sighing, she pushed the bowl into his hands. ” Drink it slowly.” she commanded. Then quickly began twisting that awesome hair, back into her accustomed braids. Bedwyr watched transfixed, only sipping at the heady broth after she had finished.

Standing and walking away, she moved with a smoothness that brought a light of it’s own into Bedwyrs eyes. She could feel his hungry gaze upon her. It did peculiar things inside of her.

Rising to follow her, Bedwyr collapsed to the ground, too weak and unsteady to move more than a few steps. She turned back to him, lifting him back onto the piled furs, Her touch was intoxicating. She was intoxicating. Bedwyr leaned into her as she laid him back down, kissing her. She surprised herself by kissing him back.

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Aeron had been the inspiration for uiscebha.

Nearly a century before, in a pique of boredom she had amused herself by tormenting a young monk of the Ceili Dei. Aeron knew little of what it was these strange priests believed, but she did know of their odd vows of chastity. She had been impressed with the simple dignity of the rituals she had watched, The metaphor seemed a bit mixed to her eyes, and the symbolism confusing, Now calling upon Ceridwen, Then Celu, and the Y Llev Velus, the ceremonies seemed purely symbolic.

Though a few of the monks did have a certain mystic glow, as they ate the pieces of bread, and sipped the shared cup of wine. That glow had brought the monk to her attention. On a random whim, she decided to test the chastity of this handsome dark haired young man. She was bored, feeling playful. She had not had much to occupy her since the Romans had settled in, and The Pax Romana held Britain.

Following him about in her guise as the white raven, for a full moon turn taught her much of the man. Learning his name, his habits, his reputation. She sought a weakness to exploit. He was kind, soft spoken, he labored hard and long daily, caring for those in need. His honesty was spoken well of, in fact, no one spoke ill of him. The only flaw she could learn, was his fondness for strong drink. Quaffing hard cider and ale at every opportunity, he never appeared to be intoxicated. Always in control. She was seriously intrigued.

She spent most of a year, obsessed with seducing him. Never once did he succumb to her attentions. She was shocked, more than a little offended. When she could stand it no more, She boldly kissed him. His response, after enthusiastically kissing her back shocked her even more. The monk, after breaking from the kiss, had fled, running straight away to his bishop, confessing everything that been between them over the year. Professing his love for her, the monk demanded that the bishop accompany him back to her, and bishop in tow, he returned to where she waited , promptly proposing to her. He asked her to become his wife.

The monk, had thought her a camp follower, and he wanted to take her as wife! He sought to show her all of the honors he was capable of. She was quite surprised. she had thought she would seduce him and be done with it. She had never expected that the monk would seek to make her his wife. She had no idea what to say or do. No one had ever proposed to her before and she had become quite fond of the young man. When the bishop offered to perform the marriage. She panicked, changing into her white raven and flew away.

The monk and the bishop, fainted dead away. The young monk began drinking the moment he awoke. He never stopped. Knowing his heart had flown away on the white ravens wings. Seeking stronger drink, trying to forget the beautiful red haired Goddess that had stolen his heart, and soul. In time, brewing ever stronger drink, the monk stumbled drunkenly onto the art of distillation. He invented the water of life, uiscebha. Though, he never could get drunk enough to forget her, or her kiss. The monk, had been the only mortal, to ever touch her heart in that way. Until now.

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Aeron found herself gazing into Bedwyr’s dark blue eyes. She found that she could not remember the name, or the face of that monk. The only thing she could think of, was kissing Bedwyr again. She did so, decisively.

Bedwyr broke the kiss, gasping for air, breathing in the scent of her, roses, cinnamon, summer and spring. Her taste hot upon her lips, gazing into her eyes, Bedwyr found himself falling into a storm. Aeron was enthralled, it was as if she were both here and there. Inside herself looking out at Bedwyr, and there, outside, watching herself. She tried to stop herself nevertheless her hand reached out to stroke his cheek, drifting down, caressing his neck, tracing down onto his chest. she was leaning closer, their lips met. Nothing else mattered.