by Jack Whyte
Ygraine found that she was frowning, even though her eyes were closed, and grinding her teeth as she dug deep to find and bolster the hatred that had always lain within her breast for Uther Pendragon. She could remember Gulrhys Lot describing to her father all the reasons why it was necessary for the two Kings and their two peoples to form a strong and enduring alliance. United, they would be able to withstand the advances and thwart the ambitions of this brash, hybrid tribe who called themselves Camulodians and who had but recently emerged from an alliance between the Pendragon clans of Cambria and the upstart dregs, deserters and leavings of the Roman armies that had fled Britain. Uther Pendragon and Merlyn of Camulod had always been among her greatest personal foes, the avowed enemies of the people of Cornwall.
Why then, she found herself wondering now, could she not summon up the anger and hatred that she knew was there inside her? She found herself shaking, as though she was in a fever, and she suddenly realized that she was shaking with fury, and that her rage was not directed at her captors. She sat completely upright, her eyes staring blankly at the wall, and shouted for Dyllis.
The flaps at the front of the tent were ripped open and two guards sprang in, bare blades already raised and ready to strike. Seeing her alone on her cot, sitting upright, they paused, frozen in mid-step.
"Lady?" growled one of the guards, while the other, Nemo, looked all around the tent. Ygraine shook her head, swallowing to free her voice.
"A dream," she said, huskily. "It frightened me. I was asleep. A dream, no more. My thanks."
The guards retreated slowly and went back outside, sheathing their swords and looking all about them, not yet convinced that all was well. Dyllis stood by the gap in the partition, her troubled gaze on Ygraine's face.
"Don't be concerned, Dyllis. Come over here and sit with me. I need to talk with you."
Ygraine turned sideways on her cot so that she could place her feet on the floor of the tent, which was no more than the grassy surface of the meadow surrounding them. She slipped her hands beneath her legs, palms downward between her thighs and the cot, and leaned forward to gaze directly into Dyllis's eyes.
"You are from Cornwall, Dyllis," she said. "Tell me, then, about Gulrhys Lot, my husband. But tell me as you would a friend, not as you would his wife or his Queen."
"My lady?" Dyllis's head was tilted slightly in confusion. Ygraine tried again.
"Dyllis, listen to me carefully, my dear . . . We have been together now for, what, three years? In all that time, I have never heard you or any of my women say anything about my lord and husband that might be taken as defamatory or treasonous or malicious. Or even honest, for that matter. Have I?" She shook her head and closed her eyes to shut out Dyllis's agonized look. "And yet I know that Morgas has been Gulrhys Lot's mistress since before I wed him, and so remains, from time to time. And I know, too, that this husband of mine has possessed every other one of my women, including you, since he wedded me. I know, in fact, that of all of us thirteen women, I am one of the least frequently blessed by his lustful potency." She heard a whimper from the other woman and opened her eyes quickly to see the pitiful expression on her face, a mixture of grief, fear and pain. "No, Dyllis. no, I am not angry. By all the gods, I swear I am happy for this, because—" She stopped short and drew a deep breath, conscious of the enormity of what she was about to say next and anticipating the pleasure she would gain from saying it.
"Because, Dyllis," she continued, "I, Ygraine Mac Athol of Eire, loathe and detest and hate my so-called lord and master, Gulrhys Lot of Cornwall. He is a foul and repulsive toad of a creature, for all his false, gentle smiles and winning ways. He is an evil, treacherous and overweening blot upon the earth. And it has taken me three years to acknowledge it. Since I have come to Cornwall, my ignoble lord has lain with me a total of five times. The first time, I was ecstatic, virginal, excited and afraid, and filled with wonder—and he brutalized me. The second time, more than a month later, I was no longer virgin, but even more afraid, and he tied me down and beat me and abused me, left me whimpering and terrified and sick . . . On the last three of those times I lay beneath him like a rotted log, my soul writhing in disgust and shame at what I had to do in being his wife.
"Two times, Dyllis. That was all he needed to convert his wife from a trembling novice into a disdainful, dutiful vessel into which he might relieve himself at his leisure. I have thanked all the gods in silence ever since then—the gods of Cambria and Eire and of everywhere else that gods might lurk—that there are many women willing to appease a King's lusts at any time. And I thanked the same gods doubly that he chose to send me off to live in exile with our friend Herliss in his white fortress of Tir Gwyn. There, away from his lusts and his bestiality, I have found a kind of happiness."
Ygraine sat silent then for several moments before withdrawing both her hands and holding them out impulsively towards Dyllis. The smaller woman took both of them in hers and leaned closer to her mistress, although she was still manifestly unwilling to speak, perhaps unsure of what to say.
"And yet," the Queen continued, "I have been at pains . . . have gone to extreme lengths . . . to maintain an outward show of loyalty and duty to this—thing that was my husband. Why? Can you tell me that Dyllis? Can you tell me why I should strive so hard to do that when the creature has debauched every one of my women, overcoming any loyalty they might have had to me by striking terror into them, if not for themselves, then for their families and loved ones? Or can you tell me why I have remained silent for as long as I have, knowing in my heart that my friends and their families were being abused and betrayed and terrorized by his outrageous and inhuman behaviour? Dyllis, I have spent years now wed to a creature beside whom a serpent would seem admirable and upright. Can you tell me how and why I have permitted that to be?" She squeezed the other woman's hands. "Fear not, my dear, I do not expect an answer . . . I am but talking aloud to myself at last, with open eyes and without fear.
"But listen carefully now. I would like you to number for me, if you will, every single instance you have seen or heard of the famous savagery and brutal depravity of this King Uther Pendragon. Point out to me, if you will, how and when and where he has abused us, any of us or any of our Cornish people, since we fell into his hands." She made a gesture with open hands, inviting comment, then fell silent, waiting.
Dyllis sat blinking at her for a long time before she, too, nodded and spread her hands.
"My lady, I cannot."
"No, you cannot. Nor can I, Dyllis, nor can I. And there is something else I cannot do, something of far greater import: I cannot remember ever having heard a single report of Uther Pendragon's foulness that did not come, in one way or another, from Gulrhys Lot."
She rose to her feet and crossed to the front of the tent where she pulled open the flaps and called for the guard. A moment later. Nemo pulled back the flaps and looked at her inquiringly. Ygraine nodded and spoke quietly and with courtesy.
"Your King said he would return here later to talk with me. Would you inform him that I would like to speak with him, if he has time?"
Nemo blinked once, glanced incuriously towards the other woman, then turned and left without a word.
A very short time later, Uther's voice sounded from the front of the tent, asking if he might come in. When Ygraine invited him to enter, he did so, stooping automatically to clear the lintel even though he wore no helmet and there was ample room above his head. Once inside, he stopped and looked from Ygraine to Dyllis, then back to Ygraine.
"You wish to speak to me?"
"Yes. I want to ask you some questions. Will you sit?"
The two footlockers still sat as he had arranged them earlier, one atop the other, and he moved to sit on them again. Ygraine remained standing, watching him as he moved. When he was settled, she moved closer to him, holding her hands clasped behind her back.
"Tell me how my brother Donuil came to be in Camulod."
Uther gazed calmly at her, then nodd
ed. "Merlyn captured him three years ago when your people attacked us from the north as Lot attacked from the south. Merlyn captured, then released, almost two thousand of your folk and kept Donuil as hostage against your father's promise to remain uninvolved. It was to be for five years, but Merlyn and Donuil became friends, and Merlyn freed him from his oath as a hostage a year later. Donuil chose to stay in Camulod after his release to work with Merlyn."
"He chose to stay?"
Uther shrugged. "Aye, he did. Wanted to become Merlyn's adjutant. I thought they were both mad and told Merlyn so, but he paid no attention."
"What is an add—?"
"An adjutant. It is a Roman rank, administrative . . . an army officer."
"An army officer. A Roman army officer. My brother. Why do I find that difficult to credit?"
He shook his head. "No more so for you than it was for me, lady. But then, there are no Romans in Britain today. Your brother is in the army of Camulod, and as I said, he and Merlyn are friends."
"And what about Deirdre? Tell me of her."
"I have already told you almost all I know. Much of what happened occurred while I was in Cambria, not in Camulod."
"Tell me again, if you would."
Briefly, Uther retold all that he knew of the story, ending with the discovery of Deirdre's body in her hidden valley. As he was speaking, Ygraine finally sat down in one of the two chairs, listening closely, and when he had finished, she sat silent for a few moments more.
"And Merlyn of Camulod, what has he done to solve the mystery of her murder and avenge her death?"
Uther drew a deep breath. "It was right at that time that Lot launched his invasion of our territories—Cambria by sea and Camulod by land. Merlyn had been away for some time on Camulod's affairs and knew nothing about that until he was on his way home. He rode into an ambush in the Mendip hills, near Camulod, and was almost killed.
"I was close by there at the time with my cavalry, chasing a group of Lot's German mercenaries, cavalry troops that he had found somewhere in Gaul. I knew that this was the biggest danger facing us in the invasion, because having cavalry of any kind offered Lot an opportunity to equal our potential, and I had listened all my life to tales my grandfather told of the magnificent German light cavalry used by the Caesars in ancient times. I did not think he was aware of what he had there . . . not yet. . . but I knew that if those people were to win a single victory of any substance, Lot would turn the world upside down to find more of them and we, in Cambria and Camulod, would be in danger of being swamped and stamped out.
"So we were there. We had been chasing these mounted mercenaries halfway across Britain for weeks, trying to herd them into a place where we could trap them and wipe them out, and we were getting ready to bring them to battle finally when Merlyn and his party blundered across their path. Thank the gods we were as close as we were, for Merlyn's people were hugely outnumbered and caught in a death trap, and if we hadn't been there none of them would have survived. We smashed the German cavalry and managed to save the lives of most of Merlyn's men." Uther paused, realizing then that he and the captive Queen both had grief and loss to share between them. "Merlyn himself took a heavy blow on the head and hasn't recovered from it yet. Probably never will. He has no memory of who he was. Doesn't know me or anyone else. Doesn't remember who his wife was or even that he had a wife. He is alive, but he is not. . . He's not my Cousin Merlyn any more."
Ygraine stood up and moved slowly to the door of the tent, where she opened the flaps and stood looking out into the late-afternoon sunlight for a while, as Uther had done earlier in the day. Finally she straightened slightly and turned again to face him.
"Tell me exactly what took place when your envoys went to meet with Gulrhys Lot."
"Aye. One of my best scouts, a man called Owain, went right into Lot's encampment and lived there for days until he had found out everything there was to know about what happened in Lot's hall that night." He told the story swiftly and succinctly, omitting nothing and including the information about Lagan Longhead's mission to find and arrest his father Herliss.
When the sorry tale was done, Ygraine shook her head as though in disbelief.
"I know Lagan," she murmured, but when she spoke again it was with furious conviction. "This is iniquitous. Damnable. Lot has—Lot had—no followers more faithful or loyal than Herliss and his son. Lagan Longhead. And now he holds the man's wife and son, threatened with death, to ensure Lagan's continuing friendship. He is insane."
She was quiet again for a long time, then asked, "Tell me now honestly, if it pleases you, what was in your mind when you decided to keep me here and send my women away?"
He sat staring at her after that, his lips pursed and his eyes wrinkled at the corners as he mulled over her question. She stared back at him, her face expressionless, and made no attempt to speak again, content to wait. Across from her, Dyllis fidgeted slightly, then sat straight-backed, tucking in her chin and staring off into the distance.
"I'm tempted to answer your question with a question, to ask you what you thought was in my mind. But neither of us would be happy with that. So I will tell you the truth, even though it might make me look foolish in your eyes. It was in my mind that you might be . . . more valuable to me as a hostage to your father in Eire than you could ever be in any dealings I might have with Lot."
"Valuable . . . in what way?"
Uther shrugged his wide shoulders, shaking his head slightly at the same time. "It was a foolish, passing thought, and short-lived, although I fancy something might have come of it in time. But it had occurred to me that your father, on being convinced of how Lot had left you thus to your fate in enemy hands, might be sufficiently angered to withdraw his friendship and support from Lot as the price of your safe return to his hall. We have a precedent, in Donuil's case, and it seemed to me that your father might be willing to deal once again with Camulod, knowing we deal more honestly than does his current ally."
"Does he know that? Does my father know that Donuil chose to remain in Camulod after being freed?"
Uther blinked at her, plainly at a loss for a response, and then he nodded, although uncertainly. "I think so. Yes, he must."
"Must he? He thinks his son is bound for five years, you said. Are those five years complete?"
"No." Uther did a quick calculation. "It has been three years, but Donuil has been free for two of those."
"Yes, but my father might not know that, and that would make your logic faulty when it comes to your dealings with him on my behalf."
Uther nodded, his gaze reflective. "Aye, you might be right. But I could always send Donuil to him as my envoy and Merlyn's friend. That much is feasible."
"Aye, and my father would be much impressed." Ygraine paused. " You said I might think you foolish over this. I do not."
He smiled. "No, the foolish part was when I allowed myself to think that he might be persuaded to reverse his alliance and throw his weight into this war on our side. And yet, even with your presence here, I suspect he might be reluctant to commit again to Lot."
"So you would sell me back to my own father?"
"Aye, I would, but not for coin. It would be advantageous to my cause were he to withhold aid to Cornwall." He raised an eyebrow. "Would that displease you, to return home to Eire?"
"No."
"Good. Your bodyguard would be freed to go with you, of course, for I presume they are all your father's men and not Lot's?"
"They are. But what of poor Herliss? He is an old man now and would not come to Eire. I think he would have little love for starting a new life in a new land at his age. And he could not stay here in Cornwall, for as you say, Lot has already marked him for death. What might you have in mind for him? He has done wrong to no man, neither you nor Lot, and ill deserves to die for simply guarding me."
Uther shook his head. "I have nothing in mind for Herliss."
"Then you should have, Sir King. I have. Would you be willing to listen to a w
oman's thoughts on that matter?"
"Happily, if the woman should have some thoughts worth listening to."
"One more question, then. Why are you here in Cornwall with your army?"
He sat back as though she had swung a slap at him, but his expression was good-humoured. "Is that a real question, one that you expect me to answer honestly?"
"Of course it is."
"Of course it is. Well, then, let me answer it briefly and truthfully. I could say I am come here to rid the world of a foul pestilence, but I need not be so grand, since the truth is far stronger. I am here to prevent Gulrhys Lot from leading, or sending anyone else to lead, any more invasions into my territories and killing any more of my people. I am here to ensure that he will never again send armies to invade my cousin's territory of Camulod and slaughter any more of its people. I am here to make sure that he will never again cause the death of any member of my family or, incidentally, of yours, since your brother Donuil now rides with us. That is why I am here in Cambria with my army, and the moment Gulrhys Lot lies dead by my hand or through my efforts, I will withdraw, taking my army with me, and never venture here again."
"You are speaking of the man to whom I am wed."
"I know that, lady. Would you have preferred it had I lied?"
"No. You could not have given me an answer that would please me better than the one you gave." She saw his brows go taut with surprise as his eyes widened, and she spoke into his startlement. "If I were a man, a King, feeling about a wife as I, a simple wife, think now about my husband, I should send her away, divorce her and set her aside. I am no King, but I am a Queen, and thus I choose to divorce Gulrhys Lot. In my eyes, he is dead, part of my life no more. So be it." She ignored the Pendragon King's open-mouthed stare and continued speaking. "I have a stratagem concerning Herliss that I think might succeed, even for you, and me and my father's men. And for Dyllis here and the rest of my women, of course. It is still largely unformed, but it is there, in my mind. Let me think on it tonight, and I will lay it out for you tomorrow morning."