Chapter 35 | The Queen Who Ruled by Herself

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Macca returned to Tremont Keep from Chalkhills refreshed, her love for her husband as strong as ever. Their reunion was passionate, to the point of being all-consuming; they stayed in their rooms and did nothing but eat, sleep and make love for two days.

"What did you do at Chalkhills, darling?" Ilhovin asked as he played with the tendrils of hair framing her face.

"Rode," she said dreamily, her cheeks and breast still flushed from lovemaking. "I rode and rode and rode. I rode till my legs ached. Feel!" She placed his hand on her thigh and flexed. "I have some of my old strength back!"

He kept his hand on her thigh. "I could tell!" he laughed, nuzzling her neck. "One day you will snap my spine if you're not careful, but I'll not complain even then!"

Macca pulled him to her and kissed him leisurely. "I did miss you, Hov, I missed you desperately. I wish--I wish I had more freedom here at the Keep, that I could go out riding with you."

"When I am next able to leave, we will go back to Chalkhills, and we'll ride together. I promise you."

But leaving became even more difficult. King Gethin began to show signs of a wasting disease. He became gaunt and pale, and he began to rely more on Ilhovin for help in ruling. Ilhovin himself turned to his wife for advice. This did not make him popular with some of the lords, though her advice was wise and fair even when those involved were lords who opposed her influence at court. And yet, her evenhanded counsel won her more friends than she knew.

Kings Year 630 passed with no child as the king grew sicker by the spoke. Anonymous pamphlets began appearing, first in the capital and then in the larger cities, accusing Macca alternately of poisoning the king and causing the gods to turn their favor from him, and so the few times when Gethin did appear in public, he made sure to be seen leaning on his daughter-in-law's arm and feeding her from his own dish.

But increasingly, eyes turned toward Belleth. Several lords paid court openly to Henrik. "Father," said Ilhovin one night as they sat by the fire in the king's chambers, "you have to let me go to war against Belleth. He goes too far--he is actively challenging your rule!"

"I am too sick to go to war, son, too sick to use my own power. You will obey me in this, and Teacher has instructions to obey me as well--yes, I know, Teacher counsels the same as you, but I haven't the heart for it. Macca," the king said to his daughter-in-law, "please, I beg you, go once again to the Temple of Amma. See if you can get the Embodiment of the Mother to intercede for you. Ask Her for a son. I want to see my grandson before I die. I am sending Ilhovin to the Temple of Pagg on the same mission, one last time, with a brace of white bull calves for sacrifice."

Macca and Ilhovin did as they were told, but to no avail, and 631 turned into spring and then summer.

"I am beginning to think the pampheteers are right and that our marriage is not sanctioned by the gods," Macca whispered to Ilhovin one night in bed, her head pillowed on his chest.

"Then I shall defy them and love you anyway," said Ilhovin.

"If I cannot ride and be a proper daughter of Tremont, may I at least walk unencumbered? I dream every night of Chalkhills, and the hills round Cordeneen. I miss the wind in my hair, Hov. If I could just get outside alone or just with people I trust, that would be enough to keep me from going completely mad."

"Yes, I shall make sure of it. I shall go with you, in fact! It will do us both good to get out of the Keep and into the Kings Woods while summer is on us!"

And so they set out the next day into the woods as Summer's Beginning ripened towards Summer's End. Without telling his wife, Ilhovin had ordered a pavilion and picnic to be left for them in a dappled clearing, and when she saw it, Macca clapped her hands and laughed. "What have you done!"

"Only made it so we might enjoy ourselves completely without having to go inside for some time. I have made sure that no one is in these woods. We are quite alone. And look! Food, a thick rug, and soft cushions. Whatever shall we do!"

Macca laughed in delight and let down her hair from its net, shaking her head. Ilhovin caught her around the waist and spun her about until it fanned out all around her. "I love you," she said.

"I love you, too."

"You're sure we're quite alone?"

"Very--mmf!" Macca smothered him with kisses, and he drew her down onto the rug. When he finally managed to pull away, she was panting and glowing, lips swollen. "Are you having trouble drawing breath, my love?"

"Yes! Perhaps you had better help me with my laces," she murmured.

"Most assuredly!" Her bodice was quickly unlaced, followed by the untying of the bow of her chemise and the drawstrings of her skirts; she was left naked on the rug, her long body framed by her hair. Ilhovin reached into the food hamper and pulled out a linen napkin, which he spread across her belly with a flourish.

"How, sir, is this fair?" she laughed.

He propped her up with pillows. "Is that better?"

"No! You are fully dressed and here I am in not a stitch!"

"Yes!" he said, turning back to the hamper. "And this is unfair?" He pulled out a loaf of bread and placed it atop the napkin.

"Most assuredly! You will cover me in crumbs!" she said as he began to pull the loaf apart. "In fact, I am positive there are some in my navel already."

"Are there? Let me see." Ilhovin picked up the napkin loaf and all, and if there hadn't been crumbs in her navel then, there were now. "Pity to waste crumbs as delicious as these on birds. I suppose I shall just have to eat them." He threw himself down on the rug and, resting himself on his elbows, began to lick and nibble the crumbs off her flat belly.

"Hov! Oh, you're tickling, Hov!" she giggled, trying to wriggle away. But he shifted to lie between her legs, pinning her arms in place as he chased the crumbs and tickled her with his beard. Macca was weak with laughter by the time his tickling ended and his kisses began. He kissed the insides of her thighs, the swell of her hips, and each rib to her small breasts. Each nipple was kissed and sucked in its turn until Macca sighed with pleasure.

Ilhovin finally sat up and pulled off his doublet and then his shirt. In the years they had been married, he had finally begun to fill out, his body gaining more muscle and breadth, but he was still slender and wiry. He stood long enough to pull off his breeches, boots and hose and sat back down naked between her legs, a knife in one hand and a peach in the other.

"You're going to eat your nuncheon now, lord husband?" she said, sitting up on one elbow.

"I thought I might."

"And leave me half-crazed?"

"Half-crazed, are you?" he said nonchalantly, cutting the peach in half.

"You look at least half-crazed yourself," said Macca, raising an eyebrow at his strengthening erection. "Will you at least share that peach?" He carefully cut half of the peach into sections and popped them one by one into her mouth as she licked the juice from his fingers. "Are you going to eat the other half now or save it for later?" she asked.

"Oh, I'm eating it now," said Ilhovin. He took the peach half and put it at the apex of her legs. She gasped as he slid it between the lips of her sex, and louder still when he began to eat it.

The fruit was cold, and his mouth was warm; he took slurping bites, taking both peach and flesh in his teeth and sucking until the peach came away. Macca knew at some point the peach must have been completely eaten, but he kept at her until she began moving uncontrollably, her hands in his short hair, screaming his name.

Quickly Ilhovin covered her body with his own and slipped inside her. The sun was soft and warm on his back, her skin was white silk beneath him, and she surrounded him in beloved, familiar heat. When she kissed him, he tasted of peaches and her own juices. He had been right; over time she had learned to love the taste of herself on his lips. So many times they had made love since their wedding night, but there was something about this time, here in the woods, that was better than all of them.

"Macca, you are my darling, my love, I will always love you, always!" he groaned, biting at her ear. She gave no answer but kissed him deeply, taking his tongue into her mouth and sucking on it. She brought her strong legs around him, and he felt himself losing control. He broke loose, slung her legs over his shoulders and pounded into her, watching her eyes roll back in her head as she came a second time. He followed her with a sob and a shout, his thrusts continuing in short spasms even after he had finished; he felt a final answering convulsion from his wife and slipped down onto the cushions beside her, shaking.

"I love you, I love you," he chanted softly as they cradled each other. He saw tears slip from the corners of her eyes and realized they were in his own as well. So sleepy. Was she asleep already? She was. He drifted off himself, smiling into her hair as they lay tangled together in the sun.

At the edge of the clearing, a watching figure finally stepped out of the shadows. "Oh little prince, little princess," said the Traveler Queen sadly, approaching the little pavilion. "You will sleep now while I do what I must, and when you awake, you will have the answer to your many prayers, though not in the way you wished."

Maeb took a little palmful of powdered herbs from a pouch at her waist, moistened it with her own spit, and used it to draw a sigil on the sleeping Macca's belly. Neither she nor Ilhovin even stirred as Maeb worked. The sigil flared silver for a moment and then sank into Macca's skin.

Satisfied, the Traveler Queen stepped back into the shadows and left them to awake in each other's arms. Macca stirred first a short bit later. "Wake up, Hov!" she laughed, shaking her husband gently. "Wake up! Let's eat something, suddenly I'm starving!"