Read The Dragon Bard (Dragon of the Island) for Free Online

reasonable?
    She could always say he’d insulted her or made improper suggestions. Indeed, there had been something almost insolent in his manner. The way he looked at her, as if he were imagining how she would appear naked.
    But it was hardly enough of an affront to order the man off her lands. There were certain laws of hospitality that must be respected. She’d already behaved quite rudely. To go beyond that was to risk offending the gods. The legends and tales were full of stories of deities testing leaders to see if they behaved in an honorable fashion. What if this man really was a god in disguise?
    The thought made Dessia shiver. Bridei ap Maelgwn was comely enough to be a deity. And his strange offer to serve her also reminded her of the old tales . . .
    Stop it , she told herself. He’s as human and mortal as you are. This was ridiculous—worrying that offending him might bring some sort of curse on her household. “Nonsense. Utter nonsense.” She repeated the phrase to herself, trying to quell the tremors of unease in her stomach.
    * * *
     
    Bridei sat down near the pile of worked stone and wiped his brow. He could feel the eyes of the other workmen on him, but he didn’t care. If they commented on his taking a respite, he would say he’d taken on this task of his own free will and therefore could rest when he wished.
    They were probably making wagers on how long he would last. As well they might. This was the first time he’d ever done this sort of physical labor—the tedious and exhausting task of crushing rocks to form the mortar for the rath walls, then mixing it with lime, sand and water and stirring it into a paste. At least it was less wearing than carrying and shaping the stones, the task that occupied most of the other men.
    Bridei examined his fellow workers. There was the mason, a stout, balding fellow who did none of the lifting or carrying or mixing, but instead directed others, making certain the mortar was the proper consistency, the stones laid evenly and sealed in securely. Every little while, the mason would climb up on the scaffolding and get out a string with weights and assess whether the work was straight and even. Or, he would walk over to where the workmen were shaping rocks and examine several pieces, sometimes dropping them on the ground to gauge their weight and solidity.
    The other workers included a man of middle years with a scraggly brown beard and one eye missing, a massive fellow whose blue eyes had a vacant gaze that suggested his wits were not quite right, and three youths whose ragged, plain-woven garments and uncouth manner suggested they were farmers’ sons. Misfits and farmers—those were his companions.
    At the thought, Bridei’s anger resurfaced. He was no crude laborer Queen Dessia could use as she saw fit! He was descended from a line of kings. He’d been an honored bard and translator for the great warlord Arthur ap Uther. Only a woman would treat him like this, he thought contemptuously. A man would easily see his skills as a poet and musician were much more valuable than the strength of his muscles. A man would place Bridei beside himself in his hall to sing his praises and extol his valor and magnificence as a leader. But Queen Dessia was a woman and so she dismissed him.
    Bridei nursed his resentment for awhile, then forced himself to let go of it. He’d learned years before not to let any emotion affect him for long. Men who allowed their feelings to rule their lives usually ended up doing stupid things. He was cleverer than that. He would find a way to get what he wished of Queen Dessia. Someday the proud Queen Dessia would yield, and yield utterly. At the thought, a smile quirked his lips.
    But to reach his goal, he must learn more about her. He must press these workmen for information.
    The opportunity arose when it began to rain. As the downpour intensified, the workmen sought refuge beneath a shelter made up of several hides stretched over timbers