He held the cloak out to her for her to hold while he fastened the belt and sword belt with practiced motions. “I don’t trust your princess. I don’t know her. You, I trust.” He took back the cloak. “You say it is important.” He stepped back. “Lead the way.”
Chapter Eleven
Vivian was waiting in the next valley, as agreed, sitting motionless upon her mare, her black hair shining in the warm sunlight. She wore no veil and no cloak and her hair spilled down her back bereft of pins and ornaments.
There was nothing of the privileged princess about Vivian this morning.
Cadfael’s stallion, Mars, merely cantered next to Lynette’s pony’s gallop, although they both covered the ground quickly.
Vivian nodded when she saw Cadfael. “You have questions. I promise they will all be answered before you return to Maridunum.”
“I am here because the lady Lynette asked me. I no longer care about your secret, Princess,” Cadfael said stiffly. “I have greater concerns than you, today.”
Vivian’s gaze turned inward. “Those concerns will be touched by this, too.”
Cadfael’s lips parted. His back straightened as he examined Vivian.
Lynette had grown used to Vivian’s other-worldly manner when in the grip of her Sight. She had forgotten how strange and unsettling it could be to others. She touched Vivian’s wrist. “If you want Cadfael’s cooperation, you should stop scaring him.”
“I’m not afraid,” Cadfael said stiffly, offended.
Vivian stirred. “Then I must try harder,” she replied, picking up her reins.
Cadfael started, his eyes widening. Then he laughed and turned Mars to follow her. Lynette fell in beside him.
They said nothing on the way to the cave, not merely because traveling anywhere was risky. Vivian’s white figure ahead of them made it seem wrong to speak. Vivian didn’t turn her head to gaze around or check on them. She rode with her head up and her back straight.
Even when the slope increased and the horses slowed to pick their way carefully up to the cliff where the cave was located, Vivian still did not look down. Her gaze was on the flat cliff above them. From here, the cave could not be seen.
Cadfael, Lynette noticed, had his knife sitting loose in its sheath. He scanned the countryside, alert, his eyes narrowed with caution.
When they reached the shelf in front of the cave, Emrys stood at the mouth of the cave, waiting for them. He looked far different from the wet and ill man they had helped into the cave. He stood as tall as Cadfael and as wide in the shoulders. His black hair was shorn short and he had contrived to shave, so his face was free of stubble. It made his black eyes and brows stand out.
He wore a tunic that Lynette recognized as one of Gwilym’s, a fine garment with braided embroidery and beads on the neck and sleeves. The undershirt sleeves were blue, matching the embroidery.
His cloak was furled and hung down his back, out of the way.
Vivian went to him. He touched her shoulder. It was a simple touch, yet Lynette sensed there was much unspoken behind it.
Cadfael set a rock on Mars’ reins and turned to face them. Lynette moved up beside him.
Vivian stepped away from Emrys and held out her hand toward him. “Cadfael, Lynette. You stand before Ambrosius, son of Constantine, brother to Uther and the true High King of Britain.”
Lynette caught her breath, shocked. She heard Cadfael’s soft gasp.
Emrys—Ambrosius—gasped, too. He turned to Vivian. “You knew? How long have you known?”
“I have always known,” Vivian said, her voice calm. “You have been in my future since I was young. Now, the future is here. Things are moving, Ambrosius. You are the last piece.” She nodded toward Cadfael. “You perceive his value. Talk to him.”
“Vortigern’s battle commander?” Ambrosius said. “Yes, I know who you are,” he told Cadfael, in response to his start. “We are not ignorant in Brittany,” he added dryly.
“I am no longer Vortigern’s,” Cadfael said stiffly. “And now, I begin to understand why.” His scowl fell into place. “I may be adrift without a master to serve, but that does not mean I will fall in with the first one to come along.”
Ambrosius nodded. “I would be suspicious of you if you did trade your allegiances so easily. You must surely have heard of our plans for Britain, Cadfael.”
Cadfael laughed. It was a dry sound. “Children’s stories I’ve heard, yes. Rumors that Ambrosius would come and save us all from the hell on earth we suffer. How Ambrosius will throw the Saxons back to where they came from, then depose Vortigern and stand over his body. How you will win lasting peace…” Cadfael grimaced. “Wistful wishes, all of it.”
“And yet, those are exactly my plans,” Ambrosius replied.
Cadfael’s eyes narrowed. “Peace is impossible,” he said flatly. “Not while a single Saxon stands upon this island. They abide by no treaties, they break their word whenever it suits them.”
“You have failed to remember childhood stories,” Ambrosius told him. “I will throw out every last Saxon, even if I spend the rest of my life doing it. I will win peace for Britain, Cadfael. I promise you that.”
“How?” Cadfael said. “It is impossible.” Yet there was a sliver of hope in his voice. He wanted Ambrosius to convince him.
Lynette moved over to where Vivian stood and let the two men face each other alone. They were the same, Cadfael and Ambrosius. They were both seasoned warriors, even though Ambrosius was younger. They wore authority like a cloak, giving them confidence to speak firmly and hew to their beliefs.
“For twenty years, we have been preparing for the time when I can return to Britain and take it back for myself,” Ambrosius said. “Much can be done in twenty years, Cadfael. Soon, the day will come to sweep across the channel, but that day is not yet here. I have slipped into Britain a number of times over the years, to keep my finger upon the pulse. I talk to leaders loyal to me—and you may be surprised by how many there are.”
Cadfael shook his head. “Gwilym…” he muttered.
“Gwilym,” Ambrosius said in agreement.
“Then Mabon’s quest was doomed before he arrived. Gwilym will never fight for Vortigern,” Cadfael said.
“Mabon’s quest may have failed, although Gwilym’s did not,” Ambrosius said. “Vivian has kept me apprised of the doings in the palace. You may well find Mabon a changed king when you return to Calleva. He does not know I am here, only that there is an alternative future for Britain. Gwilym has made him question his choices.”
“He has been moody for days,” Cadfael admitted. His blue eyes were narrowed. He was thinking hard.
“Would you sit and talk with me?” Ambrosius asked. “Inside I have wine and a warm fire. I would like a chance to paint for you a picture of the future as I see it. If you agree that it is a good future, you can help me make it happen. You could be of immense help, Cadfael.”
“As Vortigern’s battle commander,” Cadfael guessed.
“That role would be mere lip service,” Ambrosius replied. “I don’t know what has happened that has broken your faith in Vortigern, but if you return to his service as my agent, you will be able to serve Britain in a way that Vortigern would never have provided.”
“You want me to lie, to hide my true self.”
“For the greater good—and you would not have to lie,” Ambrosius said. “You have always worked to save Britain, have you not? You will continue to do that.”
Cadfael laughed. “You have guessed wrong, Ambrosius. I do not serve Britain. I have not, since Caer Dain fell to the Saxon hoards. My only wish, all I have worked for since then, is to destroy every last Saxon that stands on this island.”
“Then we have that in common,” Ambrosius replied. “Vortigern is not my enemy. However, he does stand in the way.”
They locked gazes.
Cadfael nodded. “I will drink your wine,” he said. “Before I do, though, you have another’s loyalty to secure.”
Ambrosius frowned. “Whose?”
Cadfael nodded toward Lynette. “The lady, there.”
Lynette was too surprised to speak.
“I do?” Ambrosius asked. He sounded amused.
Cadfael’s scowl appeared. “Do not dismiss the notion because she is a woman, Ambrosius. Lynette is the reason I stand here. I would not be here but for her arrangements and her beliefs. She is a powerful, hidden asset you would do well to appreciate.”
Ambrosius turned his gaze upon Lynette. She wanted to shrink back behind Vivian, who stood calm and still next to her. The man’s gaze was direct. Speculative. His gaze shifted to Vivian, then back to Lynette. “It is true that women have an indirect and subtle influence that men often forget. I have been reminded of it these last few days.”
“Women will have a role in your future and the future of those that come after you,” Vivian said. Her voice was distant, as were her eyes. “In the great affairs to come, their efforts will help shape a kingdom…such a kingdom that poets will tell of it forever.”
Lynette shivered.
Ambrosius did not seem alarmed by Vivian’s prophecy. “I am just a man,” he said, his gaze still on her. “I know nothing of futures and kingdoms. I merely want to rid Britain of its enemies so we can live in peace. Will you help me with that, lady Lynette?”
Even Cadfael watched her.
Lynette squeezed her fingers together. “I might,” she said truthfully, “only it seems to me that once Vortigern has been dealt with, you will be High King, facing the same problems as Vortigern. Why would you be any different from him? Some say he is cruel and ruthless because they are the only tools that work.”
Ambrosius frowned.
“The peril of asking a wise person for truth,” Vivian said quietly, “is that you may not like the answer.”
Lynette gripped her hands even more tightly. “I am not wise. I only ask because I have seen Vortigern’s manipulations destroy the lives of good men.” She didn’t look at Cadfael. Ambrosius and Vivian both knew who she was thinking of. “I do not wish to help a man who will be just another Vortigern.”
Ambrosius’ frown cleared. “It is a question I would consider fair, coming from a man. It deserves a full answer. Come and drink with us, lady Lynette. Decide for yourself.” He stepped aside and waved toward the cave.
They went inside.
* * * * *
At first, the ride back down into the river valley was as silent as the journey to the cave. They rode three abreast, their horses rubbing withers, comfortable with each other, while the riders stared at the ground, thinking.
Lynette recalled the conversation with Ambrosius, over and over, her heart beating faster than normal. It was hard to resist the appeal of Ambrosius’ vision for Britain. Peace and time for families to build homes, grow food and raise children. Time for those children to live to old age and die in their beds, having led fruitful lives.
Only, did he mean it?
Lynette stirred. “Is Ambrosius a good man, Vivian?”
The princess stirred from her own thoughts. “They call him the last Roman, for he shares the values of the greatest emperors of old—”
“I do not care what your Sight thinks,” Lynette interrupted. “I want to know what you think. He says one thing now. Will he still think that, when he sits in the High King’s chair and we are no longer of use to him?”
Cadfael laughed softly.
Lynette turned her head to glare at him. “It is a fair question,” she said. “You would hate it if you helped him win against Vortigern, only to see him let the families of other Britons be hurt like yours was hurt.”
Cadfael’s chest rose and fell. Then he shook his head. “I laugh, only because you asked the exact question I have been asking myself since we left the cave. I swore allegiance to Vortigern and have come to regret that I did not ask myself that question before I did.”
“The past is done,” Vivian said. “It is right that you question your decisions now. While most of Britain blindly follows Vortigern, you are making choices. And yes, Lynette, he is a good man. I know that in my bones, because my Sight gives me that assurance. If you choose to help, then you will be doing it with faith that Ambrosius is all you wish him to be.”
“Just trust him,” Cadfael breathed.
Vivian smiled. “You have come to trust Lynette in only a few days. Why?”
Cadfael scowled. “Her actions have demonstrated she can be trusted.” His jaw worked. “And because my heart tells me I can,” he added, his voice low.
Lynette’s chest ached.
“And what does your heart tell you about Ambrosius?” Vivian demanded.
Cadfael’s frown smoothed away. “That he is a good man,” he admitted.
Vivian nodded. “Don’t trust Ambrosius, Cadfael. Instead, trust your own instincts. In time, Ambrosius will prove through his actions that your instincts were good.”
Lynette breathed out the tension in her chest. Hope soared in its place. Like Cadfael, she felt that Ambrosius was a good man. Only time would prove her right.
Cadfael lifted himself up, to look over Mars’ head, into the valley spread below them, the river winding through it like a silver thread. “There is something happening in the palace. See? There are far too many men in the courtyard, moving about.”
From here, Lynette saw the people in the courtyard as dark dots, moving about the tiny rectangle outlined by red tiles. Cadfael was right—there was far too much movement in the courtyard for a warm afternoon. There were no new ships at dock and not likely to be until the morrow, for the tide was out. A new ship did not generate this degree of activity, anyway.
Cadfael urged Mars forward. “It can only be important news that spurs them,” he called over his shoulder as Mars broke into a gallop.
Vivian and Lynette followed on their slower ponies, falling behind even though they moved as quickly as possible.
“Could they know about Ambrosius?” Lynette asked quietly.
“They would storm the cave, if they did,” Vivian replied. “This is something else.”
“You don’t know what it is?”
“The ordinary affairs of men are not always visible to me.” Vivian’s voice held a note of annoyance.
“Why do you frown like that?” Lynette asked, as they slowed to pick their way down the steep path to the valley floor.
When Vivian didn’t answer at once, Lynette risked a glance at her, away from the path ahead. “Vivian?”
Vivian sighed. “I have not been able to see anything for two days now.”
“That is…unusual?”
Vivian grimaced. “I am more blind than a man whose eyes have been plucked from his head.”
It was not a reassuring answer.
Chapter Twelve
As they drew closer to the palace, the frenzied activity and shouting grew clearer. There was nothing to tell them what the panic was about, so Vivian and Lynette cantered into the yard, their ponies blowing heavily from the run.
They watched from the back of their ponies, trying to make sense of the scene. The old harvest wagon was being loaded with barrels. From the size and daubs of paint on the barrels, there was both water and food.
Lynette spotted Mervyn and his men bent over saddlebags on the edge of the verandah, sorting through them. Mervyn looked wildly happy.
Her heart fluttered uneasily. “Vortigern has called for war?” she whispered to Vivian. “A general call that no one can refuse?”
Vivian shook her head. “It is too soon for that.”
Her ringing tone of certainty made Lynette shiver.
Vivian pointed. “Look, Mabon’s men are preparing, too.”
“There is Mars, tied up to the post in the corner,” Lynette added. The verandah post was the closest to Cadfael’s room. The stallion had his head down, in a bucket that would contain either oats or water, Lynette guessed.
Vivian held her hand out as one of the youngest of Gwilym’s men hurried past, c
arrying a heavy saddlebag. “Aled, what is the alarm? What happens here?”
He dropped the bag and gave a short bow. “A messenger arrived an hour ago, my lady. The Saxons have laid siege to Calleva. King Mabon rides as soon as can be and we’re to go with him!” His unlined face flushed with pleasure. “We’re to go to battle!”
Lynette gasped and turned on the saddle pad to look at Mars again. His saddle had not been removed, nor his harness.
Her heart thundering, Lynette saw Cadfael emerge from the room he had been using. He was carrying heavy saddle bags. He slung them over Mars’ back.
Her chest tightened and her belly cramped.
Vivian swung down to the ground and took both ponies in hand. “I will see to them,” she said. “Go and speak to Cadfael.”
Lynette nodded. Her body was stiff with tension. She contrived to slide to the ground. She made her way through the preparing soldiers and stepped up on to the verandah. It was the longer route, although with the swirl of men and horses in the courtyard, it would be quicker to move around the edges.
There were still people rushing into and out of rooms, carrying supplies and weapons, forcing her to halt and let them pass, while her heart beat climbed higher.
Cadfael re-emerged from the room as she approached that end of the verandah. He shook out his cloak as he moved toward Mars, then slung it over his shoulders. He halted and looked down at his hands as he pinned it.
Lynette halted at the post where Mars was tied. Her throat locked. She couldn’t speak.
Cadfael looked up. His eyes narrowed. “Lynette…”
“I heard,” she said. Her voice emerged hoarse. “You ride to battle.”
His fists tightened. “Three days, it took to reach here. We’ll return in two and kill horses under us to get there, for Calleva won’t stand a day more than that.” His throat worked, as if he was preparing to say more. He remained silent.
She nodded. “Do you have enough food for the road? Is there anything else you need I can fetch?”
“Fall in!” Folant cried, in his battlefield-trained bellow.
The hysteria kicked up a notch, as men leapt to secure bags and packs, don helmets and gloves and pull themselves up onto their horses.
Once and Future Hearts Box One Page 11