Toreth was not invited to the wedding, though she scrubbed pots from the feast. For the next year she saw Queen Estrildis only from afar, that lovely pale face shining like a lily in the sun, but sad, so sad.
Then one morning a servant brought urgent summons to the kitchens. Toreth wondered at the tumult in the hall as she followed to the queen's chambers.
Estrildis paced, her eyes wide with fear, her silver-trimmed white linen gown rippling with every step. "Lead us to the cave!" she ordered, grabbing Toreth's arm and drawing little Severn along by one hand.
"What? Why?" the old woman stammered.
"Gwendolen has rallied an army from her kin in Cornwall. They've crossed the ridge. They'll attack any moment. Guide us into hiding!"
They fled down the servants' passageways and out the back way. Down Panpuntin hill. The clamor of battle rose from far fields. Toreth led along a hedge toward the woods.
Too late. Hooves pounded the turf. A horde of warriors burst through the thickets. Several peeled away to head off the women and child.
Their leader rode up, peeled back her helmet and glared down at her prey. "That's my gown you're wearing," Queen Gwendolen snarled. "My throne you've been warming. My husband you stole. But now neither of us will have him." She brandished a bloody sword. "Take them! Bind them! Cast them into the river!"
Torgeth tried to shield mother and child, but the warriors knocked her aside. Chains clinked. Estrildis shrieked and struggled. Little Severn wailed in terror.
Torgeth stumbled along behind as the avenging host dragged their spoils of war down to the river's bank. She watched in horror as her mistress and poor little Severn hurtled into the churning current. They bobbed and sank, bobbed and sank, then there was nothing to see but the gleam of white underwater, tumbling away downstream toward the sea.
If you walk along the banks of the River Severn, keep an eye on the waters named after a child of long ago. The haunted waters where many have seen, over the years, two ghostly white figures swimming with graceful, effortless ease.
--- Legend from Wales ---
Gwendolen was the daughter of Corineus, King of Cornwall.
Locryn, or Locrinus, was king of Loegria, the land later to be called England.
Estrildis, or Astrilid, is said to have been the daughter of the king of Hungary. She was consort to Humber, king of the Huns, and aboard his ship when he came raiding the coasts of the British Isles. Locryn defeated him in battle, and Humber is supposed to have drowned in the river named after him, though that's on the eastern shore. Was the beautiful Estrildis willingly accompanying Humber, or was he simply the first to make off with her as spoils of war?
Estrildis bore a daughter while in captivity, fathered by her captor Locryn. Several names have been given for the little girl: Hafren (the Welsh "f" sounds like "v"), Averne, Sabren, Sabrina, and Severn-- since known as goddess of the river that bears her name.
