Queen of the Summer Stars Read Online Free

brood, M’lady—just give you bad dreams and drain you of strength you could give the Queen Mother. Besides,” he added, seating himself across from me, “you mustn’t think that Her Highness’s life was all duty and responsibility. She was full of laughing, lilting ways when she and Uther first ruled the realm. Not, of course, out in public; she was always quiet and regal before her subjects—but when they were in the arms of the family, you might say, she wasn’t reserved at all.”
    A fond smile played over Ulfin’s features and he reached up to take a small leather pouch from around his neck.
    “Uther’d never met a woman he couldn’t bend to his will, but Igraine was different—she wasn’t the sort to be intimidated. I’ve seen her call his bluff and have him end up laughing about it more than once. And for all that they were an unlikely pair, it was well for both Britain and its leader when she became High Queen. That’s something I’ll always be proud I had a hand in. It was after their wedding that he gave me this…”
    The Chamberlain carefully took a golden ring from the little pouch and put it into my hand. “I was thinking that, seeing as how she’ll be buried on Christian ground, not next to her husband, Her Highness might want to have something of his to take to the grave.”
    I looked down at a gold band with a bright design of color around its rim. It was much heavier than the little enamel ring of Mama’s that I wore, but the workmanship was very similar.
    “Now you just get yourself into bed, M’lady,” Ulfin admonished. “I’ll call for you in the morning…and I don’t want to see your eyes all red from crying, either.”
    I thanked the Chamberlain for his concern, and, after he left, sat staring at the ring and thinking of Ulfin’s words. Finally, with a sigh, I blew out the oil lamp and crawled under the fur blankets.
    ***
     
    I might not have any better understanding of how Uther and Igraine had come together, but I went to sleep that night imagining her as the bright young Duchess whose beauty and spirit had changed the whole of British history.

Chapter II
     
    Igraine’s Tale
     
    She wanted so much to see you—God willing, she’ll waken long enough to know you’re here,” the Abbess whispered, hurrying me along a cloistered walk toward Igraine’s cell.
    A handful of nuns knelt in silent prayer outside the door. The Queen Mother’s young companion, Ettard, was with them, and she looked up at me imploringly, as though I had the power to bargain with fate.
    The little room smelled of candle wax and sanctity. An older sister, no doubt versed in healing, rose from the stool beside Igraine’s cot. Giving me a respectful nod, she came to my side and indicated that the end was expected any time.
    I thanked her and moved slowly to the foot of the bed as the nurse tiptoed out.
    Arthur’s mother lay in a deep sleep, her eyes closed, her breathing shallow. Linen sheets covered the narrow pallet, and her hair, once fabled for its gold, now spread over the pillows in a silver cloud. The wasted body barely showed beneath the rough blanket, and she looked more like a child than a powerful monarch. Yet even drawn and pale, Igraine’s features bore the mark of great beauty, and in spite of the dark circles under her eyes, she had a calm and peaceful air. Considering the tumult that had surrounded her life, this serenity in the face of death was all the more touching.
    When Igraine had chosen to come live in the convent, she’d left behind all the trappings of her former glory; the cubicle was empty except for the bed and an unpainted wooden chest. A homespun garment hung from a peg by the door, more fitting for a farmer’s wife than a great queen.
    The tree beyond the unglazed window was filled with willow warblers. They were Igraine’s favorite birds and their soft calls and silvery trills filled the air, as though already singing her to the Isle of the Blessed. I looked down