Set in the Dark Ages of British history, the story moves from a sophisticated Roman-built city, to a ring of standing stones on a wild moor, to an ancient Celtic stronghold, each based on actual historical sites. In this land of contrast merged the passion of the Celts, the intelligence of the Romans, and the influence of the early Christian church. This is where faith and fantasy meet, where good and evil are not always clearly defined, and it is not always possible to know the right thing to do.
INTRODUCTION
In the year 55 B.C., Julius Caesar first crossed the English Channel with the intent of conquering the vast island he called Britain. After several major offensives and over a century of fighting, much of the island fell to Roman rule, from Hadrian’s Wall in the north, west into Wales, and south into parts of Devon and Cornwall.
In 407 A.D., the Romans abandoned the island, leaving behind roads, villas, walled cities, and a deep influence on the native Celtic people. Facing new invaders, the natives called on Rome for protection in 410 A.D., but they were told to “look to their own defenses.”
That is just what they did.
CHAPTER ONE
The Year of Our Lord 477. In Britain, the Kingdom of Dumnonia.
Addien had always been fascinated by the tunnels running underneath her house. She was forbidden to play in them and had never seen what lay beneath the metal grates on the floor of each room. Her father had explained what the tunnels were for, but Addien understood it as much as a rabbit could understand the purpose of wearing clothes. The tunnels were part of her house, but they were not part of her world. They were a reminder that the house had not always belonged to her father or her grandfather. There had been someone else there who had gone away, someone who had been replaced but not entirely forgotten.
Stuffing her small fingers through the narrow openings in the grate, Addien tugged at the stubborn metal once more, still without success. “Trevilian,” she whispered, putting her head close to the bars where she could smell the stale earth beneath. “I know you’re down there. I hear you buzzing. Come out and play with me.”
She paused before putting her ear next to the grate. The sound she heard before was gone, leaving nothing but an annoying silence. “All right, don’t come back. I didn’t want to play with you today anyway. I have much too much to do.”
Addien pushed herself to her hands and knees, then stood and shook the long skirt of her sleeping gown away from her ankles. Stepping to the one window in her room, she pushed open the wooden shutters. The morning sun, still hidden behind a high stone wall, threw its light through the opening, illuminating white-washed walls, a sturdy oak bed frame, and a pile of blue and green blankets in a heap on the green tile floor. An early spring breeze rustled the branches of a primrose bush just below the windowsill, blowing the scent of its blooms into the room. Addien took a deep breath and smiled. “Addien, are you awake yet?” a voice called from the hallway. “You’re going to miss your birthday if you sleep all day.”
A thick tapestry woven of yellow and brown strands of wool was swept back from the doorway, allowing a tall woman to enter the room. “I haven’t missed anything, have I?” Addien asked, running to her mother and throwing her arms around her.
Morveren laughed. “Of course not. The feast isn’t until this evening. But our guests will be arriving throughout the day. I want you to be up and ready to greet them. Now that you are six years old, I expect you to be a good hostess.”
Addien dressed quickly then waited for her mother to brush out her hair. Morveren gathered fistfuls of the waist-length red hair into her hands to begin the long braid down the center of her daughter’s back.
“I have some green ribbons we can tie into your hair later,” Morveren said as she worked. “I know you like red better, but green will bring out the color of your eyes.”
“Is that why you wear green?”
Addien tried to peer behind her as her mother continued to work on her hair. Morveren leaned over to meet Addien’s look. Her own neat braid of deep red fell over her shoulder, and her eyes sparkled in a brilliant shade of emerald green. Her gown sparkled as well with gold embroidery at the neckline and waist, but the rest of it was green—a soft green made for touching, like the first leaves of spring.
Turning back again, Addien suppressed a yawn.
“Were you awake very late last night?” Morveren asked, continuing to work on the braid. “I know you were very excited after we finished decorating the room.”
“Oh, I didn’t go to sleep at all! I kept wishing it would be morning. Then Trevilian came and sang to me, and he made my wish come true. It was morning, and I never even closed my eyes!”
“It was morning, and you never even closed your eyes? Not even a little?” Morveren teased. “Well, I suppose it is nice to have an invisible friend who can make your wishes come true.”
“He isn’t invisible to me,” Addien corrected her, “only to other people. He lives in the tunnel under the floor. He said one day he would take me down there with him.”
“I thought you said he was the size of a mouse? How can he fit through the grate to get into the tunnel?”
“He can make himself smaller anytime he wants to. He can even disappear.”
Morveren paused near the end of the braid. She turned Addien toward her and took her chin in one hand, forcing her daughter to look at her. “You haven’t been trying to get in there, have you? You know that would be very dangerous.”
“But why?” Addien asked in a small voice. “What’s down there?” Morveren sighed. “Nothing. Nothing at all. A long time ago this house belonged to a Roman governor, before your great-grandfather, King Bryon, came to live here. The tunnels were used to send heated air from the furnace room into the bedrooms.”
Addien wrinkled her face and stared at her mother. She had heard this before, but it still made no sense to her.
“Then why don’t we use them anymore?”
“I don’t know.” Morveren laughed and reached down to hug her daughter. “The furnace was taken apart long ago and locked away, and the tunnels are not to be played in.”
Addien nodded her understanding, then she stood to let her mother finish tying off the braid.
“Mother,” she asked, looking down at the metal grate on the floor of her room, “who lived here before the Roman governor?”
“No one did. This house was built for the governor. Our people lived in this land before the Romans came, but not right here. The Romans built this whole city, the only one like it in Dumnonia.”
Addien was silent for a long moment before turning to face her mother again. She clutched her hands together in front of her and tried to still the trembling of her lower lip.
“Will we have to go away someday, as the Romans did?”
Morveren pulled her daughter onto the bed beside her and wrapped her arms around her.
“Of course not,” she whispered into Addien’s ear. “This is the King’s House now, and it always will be.”
The hallway outside Addien’s room was long and narrow and paved in grey tiles with a colorful pattern of exotic flowers. Oil lamps sat securely in brass fasteners all along the white wall, and faded tapestries hung over the entryways to servants’ rooms and storage areas. At the end of the hall, a wide opening led into the kitchen where the warmth of a large oven softened the air. Addien followed the aroma of fresh bread into the bustling room and bobbed her way around busy servants to reach the center table. A plate of bread and cheese appeared before her and a wooden cup of goat’s milk. Addien emptied the plate and cup and then raced back out of the kitchen into the cooler air of the hallway.
Across from the kitchen, the door into the Great Hall stood open. Addien skipped into the room with a broad smile and looked all around her.
Evergreen garlands tied with red ribbons hung from the four high walls. The long tables and benches which ran in two rows down the length of the room had been pushed back to make a place in the center for the evening’s entertainment. At the far side of the room stood the Royal Table with three high-backed chairs behind it, one for Addien’s mother, one for her father, and one, completely covered in red ribbons, for her. Even the great tiles of marble on the floor had been polished to a dull shine in honor of the special day.
Before the morning had half passed, Addien was called into the garden to greet her first guests. There, surrounded on three sides by the Great Hall and the two wings of the house, a gravel path wound its way through an array of fruit trees and planting beds to the massive double doors of the Great Hall. Local nobles and their families arrived first and crowded into the Hall, while other guests, who had traveled from farther away, were shown to guest rooms in the north wing. Most brought a small gift of some kind for Addien. With great enthusiasm and well-taught politeness, she accepted carved wooden animals, cloth dolls, hair ribbons, and pretty stones. In return, she handed out sweet treats and little toys for the children. As her nurse disappeared with each new gift, Addien ran around the garden or the Hall, playing with the other children or just nosing about into everyone’s affairs.
Morveren glided effortlessly around the house, greeting old friends, providing food and drink, settling issues of mixed-up belongings and extra visitors with infinite grace. Addien’s father was less visible, spending most of the day behind the closed door of the King’s Court in the north wing of the house. It was rare to have so many nobles gathered together at one time, and the desire to discuss weighty matters of the kingdom was too great to ignore. But Addien didn’t mind. She knew her father would be sitting next to her at the feast that evening, and she was willing to wait for his attention.
By the middle of the afternoon, Addien was tired of the noise, the crowd, and the games of the other children. She slipped out of the Great Hall and ran past the kitchen to the solitude of her own little room. The tapestry at her doorway blocked most of the noise from the hallway, and the narrow walkway outside her shuttered window was deserted. She was finally alone. Uncertain what to do next, she looked around for something to distract her.
In addition to the bed, the room held a table and a stool in the corner of the room and a chest—a huge wooden box with metal hinges—beside the wall to hold clothing and personal belongings. Addien’s gaze fell on the table, where her nurse had carefully arranged her gifts. A few moments later she was curled up on the bed, surrounded by the dolls and stones and other trinkets she had received. The guests, the clamor, and the excitement of the day faded away. With a contented sigh, Addien closed her eyes and fell asleep.
“Addien! There you are!”
Red-faced and breathing hard, a stout woman stood over Addien’s bed glaring down at her. Through the mist of dissolving dreams, Addien looked back at her.
“Yes, nurse,” she said with a yawn. “I am here.”
“Well, it’s here you aren’t supposed to be. Here we have a house full of guests for your special day, and you slip away without telling anyone to come hide in your room.”
Unprepared for this lecture, Addien’s eyes hardened and she drew her lips tightly together. “I’m not hiding. I was tired.”
The nurse returned Addien’s stare for a long moment but finally looked away. With a slight “hrumph” and a shake of her shoulders, the woman addressed her charge in a calmer voice.
“It’s only that I’ve been looking for you all over the grounds. Everyone is in such a state. Lord Finnen’s wife lost a brooch, and your dear mother has been near to fits dealing with the woman. She has every servant in the house looking for the thing. I don’t know what’s going to happen if….”
The nurse’s voice faded away. Her eyes widened, and her jaw dropped. Puzzled by the sudden change, Addien followed the woman’s gaze to see what had captured her attention. There, on the bed, half-hidden by her skirt, lay a gold brooch Addien had never seen before. Even with her mind still half asleep, Addien realized what it was. She looked back at the woman beside her, noting the deepening shades of red and purple illuminating her face.
“Addien! How could you? Today of all days! When your father finds out about this….”
“But I didn’t take it! I never touched it, I promise!”
Addien’s mind clouded over with fear at the thought of her father being called away from his guests to deal with her apparent crime. Brenin was a kind man and a loving father, but he was also the king, and his anger was something to be avoided. He had already scolded Addien about stealing things, and he had restricted her to her room on more than one occasion. She didn’t want to think about what her punishment would be this time if he didn’t believe her.
“If you didn’t take the brooch,” her nurse asked, “how did it get into your room?”
Eyes downcast, Addien answered quietly, “Perhaps Trevilian took it.” The nurse threw her arms in the air, looked to the sky, and shook her head violently. Addien watched her under half-closed lids. The reaction had been expected. Her nurse often behaved just so when Addien mentioned her closest friend.
“Trevilian!” the woman blustered when she could find her voice. “Trevilian again? When are you going to stop this childish pretending?” “I’m not pretending! Trevilian is real, and he’s my friend. I’m sorry he took the dumb ol’ brooch. He was only playing. He just wanted to have a little fun.”
Looking down at her blankets, she could still feel the nurse’s eyes fixed on her. A sullen silence filled the room. Slowly, Addien picked up the brooch and, without looking up, held it out. The nurse accepted it and clasped it tightly.
“Are you going to tell my father?” Addien whispered.
There was another moment of silence before the nurse responded. “No. Not now, anyway. There’s no reason to bother him. I’ll tell your mother the brooch has been found and I found you asleep in your room. You’re to stay here for the rest of the afternoon until it’s time for the meal. There’ll be no more trouble from you today. And no more talk of pixies!” With that, the woman swept out of the room, knocking the tapestry at the doorway out of her path and stomping down the hallway. Addien was left alone in the quietness of her room. A single tear crept down one cheek to the corner of her mouth. She sniffed and wiped the dampness away. Her wonderful day had been ruined.
As is often the way with children, Addien’s spirits had quite revived by the time of the great feast that evening. She played happily in her room with her new toys until the nurse came to dress her for supper. Her birthday dress was as colorful as a garden, embroidered all across the bodice with gold threads in swirling, interlocking designs. Her hair was combed out again and braided with the green ribbons her mother had promised. She even had new shoes to wear, soft leather boots with fur lining to keep the chill of the tile floor away from her toes.
The feast itself was everything she could have wished for. Jugglers and acrobats pranced across the floor. Musicians played on drums and flutes. Then the Chief Bard stood to sing her favorite tale about the king’s triumph in the battle of Killarney Springs. As the bard sang, Addien turned to look at her father. He was a large man with straw-colored hair and a long beard. His red tunic and breeches were crossed with thin gold lines in a traditional plaid pattern. He was whispering something to Queen Morveren while the Captain of the Guard stood expectantly behind his chair. Then the king rose and quietly exited the room with the Captain. The bard’s song continued, but Addien was no longer listening. She crept out of the hall after her father, hoping to persuade him not to leave her wonderful party.
Addien followed her father through the door leading to the north wing of the house. The first room along the hall was the King’s Court, a large, sparsely furnished room, used for confidential meetings and the bringing of legal disputes before the king. She arrived in the hallway in time to see him stepping into the room, the Captain of the Guard and one other man behind him. The third man she recognized as Lord Balchder, her father’s closest friend and companion in arms.
Dark-haired and clean-shaven, Lord Balchder stood in striking contrast to King Brenin, who was several years his senior. Even the clothes he wore set him apart from the people around him. Instead of the heavy woolen tunics and breaches more suited to the climate, Balchder wore a knee-length Roman-style tunic and a short cape. He shunned the bright colors and patterns worn by the other nobles, preferring black or grey instead. The only things providing any color were the gold chain holding the cape around his neck and the cool blue of his eyes.
Addien paused, hoping he wouldn’t see her. She hadn’t seen him arrive earlier in the day and thought it was possible he wouldn’t come at all. Or perhaps she was wishing he wouldn’t come. Addien had long felt a dislike for Lord Balchder, although she couldn’t say how it started. She resented that his name was sung by the bards almost as much as her father’s, and he never seemed to come except to take her father away. She once heard one of the Elders call him arrogant, and although she had never heard the word before she was sure she knew what he meant.
“Princess Addien,” Balchder chimed pleasantly, noticing her against the wall, “permit me to offer my best wishes on your special day.” She frowned as he continued. “I apologize for stealing your father away. We have important matters to discuss. I’m sure you understand.”
She didn’t understand, and her tight lips and wrinkled forehead were meant to show it. Balchder knelt beside her to speak in a low voice. “I did bring you a present though,” he said, reaching into a hidden pocket within his black cape.
Retrieving a small object, he held out his hand, fist closed. Slowly, he opened it to reveal a graceful silver ring. Addien stared at it without moving until he took her hand and placed the ring within it. Then he rose quickly and swept into the room, closing the heavily carved door before she had a chance to react. Addien was left in the hall alone and required to return to the feast without her father.
Later that night, Brenin came to find his daughter in her room. Even in the dim light of a single lamp on the table, Addien could see the creases on his brow and the frown beneath his beard. She wondered if he had been standing in the hallway, listening to her through the tapestry.
“You’ve been talking with Trevilian again, haven’t you?” Brenin asked as he sat on the bed. “Telling him what a horrible monster Lord Balchder is?” Addien scowled at her blankets and said nothing.
“Addien,” he said gently, “one of the most important things the daughter of a king must learn is how to keep her own counsel. Listening ears are everywhere, and an untimely word can bring destruction on a whole house.”
He paused and accented his last words with a raised eyebrow. When Addien made no response, he fumbled with a cloth he was holding, placing it on the blanket before her.
“I didn’t have a chance earlier to give you your birthday present.” Addien’s hurt feelings paled in light of the new gift. She reached for it, pulling back the corners of the cloth to reveal a beautiful necklace inside. Oval-shaped gold beads ran the full length of the necklace, interspersed by teardrop pieces inlaid with mother-of-pearl and deep red garnets. At the center of the beadwork hung a round charm of polished gold, embellished with a Christian cross. She gasped at the sight of it and grabbed it with anxious hands.
“Wait,” her father told her, reaching out to touch the center charm. “There’s more. I had this made especially for you. There is a secret compartment here, inside the charm. It opens on a tiny hinge and then snaps shut again.”
Addien watched with wide eyes as he demonstrated the workings of the tiny locket.
“It is for your most secret of thoughts,” he said, laying the locket back in her hands, “and your most secret of friends. You are a young lady now, Addien, and much will be expected from you. It is time to put away childish playthings and no longer speak everything you think or feel.”
Although her father did not say his name again, she knew he was talking about Trevilian. Her habit of speaking to her unseen friend at any time of day, often making blunt and unguarded comments, had begun to annoy even her father. Addien frowned at the gold and garnet necklace and said nothing. After a few moments, her father rose to leave. Still, she looked down, unwilling to meet his commanding gaze. She heard him step into the hall and begin to walk away, softly whistling a merry tune.
“Good night, father!” she shouted.
His clear voice rang back, without a hint of rebuke, “Good night, Addien!”
Then she took up the necklace and examined every bit of it, opening and closing the locket until it was very late and the lamp in her room was nearly out. Laying aside the locket at last, she vowed she would never take it off except to sleep at night.
And the silver ring Lord Balchder had given her she threw out the window to be lost in the branches of the primrose bush.
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About the Author
Janet Ruth is the author of one historical/fantasy/romance novel and three non-fiction books. Janet is a former attorney, a former college instructor, a wife, and a mother of two grown children. Janet loves to travel and learn the history of local places, and has been to Devon, England twice to do research for this book.