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“We are. Rob too. Just Jerome left now.”
“He’s a hard case,” said Deo, gathering up the equipment, while Emrys recoiled the rope.
“I don’t know,” said Emrys. “I think there is more to him than he lets on.”
“I used to envy him,” said Deo. “The way he could talk to women, have them fall at his feet. Now?” He shook his head, grinning and thinking of Em. “I wouldn’t be him for anything under the sun.”
*
Deo and Emily spent the afternoon working on the finds in companionable accord, interrupted by bursts of discussion on several points. Emily had wanted to work on deciphering the text from the cross straightaway, but Deo had suggested they leave that until after dinner. So she went back to cleaning and sketching. She didn’t think it was possible to be so happy as she was now. She couldn’t resist glancing up every now and then to look at him, bent over the big desk in the library, compiling notes for a document that would record the process of the excavation and their finds. It will be our first joint paper. I will get my name on a paper!
She knew how fortunate she was that Deo was prepared to share the credit with her. Many wives in this field of endeavor did not get such consideration from their husbands, irrespective of their contributions. Deo had made it clear he respected her input and wanted to ensure it was recognized in full.
When she thought of the misery of her existence a mere few weeks ago, it seemed incredible that her life could change so dramatically and for the better in such a short time. To think she could have been preparing to marry Bidenden at this very time. Her stomach swooped at the notion, and she had to resist the urge to get up from her seat and kiss her husband just to reassure herself all of this was real.
It had been extremely real last night. Their shared passion was another revelation to her. She wished that dratted solicitor’s letter would arrive so that Deo would allow them to progress to full intimacy. She was very much looking forward to that. She grinned to herself. Then she would feel like a real wife, and they would be bonded properly. It all felt a bit in limbo at the moment.
She certainly hoped that she had convinced Viscount Bidenden to abandon his ridiculous notion that she would give up Deo for him. She would never do that in a million years. The idea was absurd. She would live with Deo in sin before she would contemplate marriage with anyone else.
The afternoon flew by and they joined the others for dinner, where the conversation still revolved mostly around the finds and speculation about who the mysterious occupant of the mound was.
As soon after dinner as they could politely excuse themselves, they made their way to their sitting room, and Emily got out the rubbing. Spreading it on the desk beside the other one, they matched up the two where the break was. The letters of the first word of the new bit of text were interrupted by the break, and there wasn’t much to go on. But the rest was more legible than the original part of the text.
___ IN P____IO APUD BEDDEIGYR CECIDIT
“This second to last word must be a proper noun—a location or a name, I think,” said Emily. “Why does it sound familiar?”
Deo chewed his lip. “It’s hard to make out, but I think this first missing word is qui—who. See the upper part of the curve of the Q is visible on the original piece and the curve of the bottom of the U and a fraction of the downward stroke of the I is visible on this piece.”
“Yes, I agree. So, this portion definitely relates to our comes mentioned in the first line of text!”
“This part—cecidit—is clear; that means ‘fell.’ And if this partial word is proelio for ‘battle’ or ‘fight,’ it refers to someone who fell in battle.”
“So—the Battle of Beddeigyr!” finished Emily, bouncing in her seat. “HIC IACET something-GYN COMES DE CAERLYR FILIUS WIG-something QUI IN PROELIO APUD BEDDEIGYR CECIDIT.”
“Here lies Something-gyn, Earl of Caerlyr, son of Wig-something, who in Battle at Beddeigyr fell.”
“I do wish we could work out what their full names are,” she sighed. “What and when was the Battle of Beddeigyr? And why does that name sound so familiar?”
“I’m not sure, but we can find out,” said Deo, getting up and going to a pile of books on the side table.
“Oh, why can’t I think? I’m sure I know this!” said Emily, frowning at the part of the text she had written out on the parchment in front of her. Eigyr.
“Eigyr is a personal name that means maiden!” She bounced up excitedly. “Bedd is Welsh for grave and Eigyr means maiden. So, grave of the maiden!”
“What is Eigyr in English? I feel like I should know.” Deo said. Then answered his own question. “Igraine?”
“Beddeigyr. Bedeigraine.”
Deo paused in his sorting through the pile of books and straightened slowly. “Igraine is Arthur’s mother.”
Emily’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open. “Oh, gosh yes, you’re right. King Arthur! But—we can’t have stumbled across anything to do with him, can we?”
Deo shook his head. “Unlikely. He’s considered by many scholars now to be more legend than real—”
“True, but even so, surely there is a man behind the legend. Someone real who may not have performed all those fabulous feats, but who was impressive enough to change history. Someone remembered as Arthur, King of the Britons.”
“Yes, certainly. I agree with that. I think there was such a fellow,” Deo conceded. “A Dark Age king who held back the Saxon tide for a generation or more.”
