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Shadow of Stone (The Pendragon Chronicles)

Page 43

by Ruth Nestvold


  Given the way things are going here, I fear I have no news as to when we will be returning to Britain. I would have hoped the fighting would be over by winter, but it does not look as if my hopes will become reality.

  I know we have much to discuss, but be assured that my thoughts are with you and our daughter. I look forward to seeing you, whenever that might be.

  Your Cador

  Yseult to Cador, greetings.

  I have news that you will not want to hear, assuming it has not already reached Arthur. At first it came to us only in rumors, but now it has been confirmed by both my cousin in Dyn Tagell and my steward in Lansyen. As expected, Medraut and Ginevra are now acting as rulers of Cerniw from Ginevra's seat in Celliwig — but not only that, Medraut has been recruiting and training warriors, many more than he would need for defense alone. No one here now has the necessary fighting men to contest Medraut's claims, but I have begun to set up a system of spies to monitor the developments and track movements to and from Celliwig. I have also alerted the landholders between here and Celliwig, and sent Rufinus and Alun out to recruit young men who can be trained as warriors now that the harvest is over.

  Please, speak with Arthur about the preparations his nephew is making. If Medraut is planning war in truth, it is unlikely he will attack before spring. On the other hand, if Arthur waits until Medraut begins to move against his neighbors, it will probably take him at least a month to respond from Gaul, and that might well be too late for many of the small towns in southwest Dumnonia.

  I will do my best in your absence to defend your house and hearth, but I would be more at ease if you and your men were here — as would we all.

  Keep yourself safe from Frankish warriors and return to us soon.

  Your Yseult

  Cador to Yseult, greetings.

  Your news is very disturbing; unfortunately, not everyone sees it as you do. I have spoken with Arthur, and to his way of thinking, Medraut's recruiting of warriors could well be no more than a defensive strategy, an attempt to ensure that he is able to keep what he has already gained — the Queen of Cerniw. That is the title by which Ginevra is referred to exclusively here now. Arthur does not want to hear her name, does not want to acknowledge that she had anything to do with him, does not want to deal with the matter of Medraut and Ginevra — and as a result, Cerniw and Dumnonia have become a blind spot in his strategic thinking.

  At the same time, we have finally had some major successes against Chlodovech, and we may soon be in a position to demand concessions from the Frankish king regarding the British kingdoms of Armorica. Naturally, this makes Arthur even less interested in abandoning the campaign. Progress has been slow, but last week our forces won a significant victory, taking the city of Subdinum and its Frankish sub-king, Rignomer.

  Given what you tell me, I can only hope that our success soon becomes enough for the Dux Bellorum. In the meantime, keep yourself and Riona and my mother safe, I beg you. More than anything else, I want to someday hold my daughter in my arms.

  I have all confidence in you to be able to arrange for the defense of our mutual kingdoms. The measures you have taken to contain the threat Medraut poses meet with both approval and admiration on my part. I believe your son has his talent for military strategy more from you than his father. After all, you are a warrior princess of Eriu. And surely there is a reason you are known as the Lioness of Dumnonia.

  Your Cador

  Yseult to Cador, greetings.

  Thank you for your confidence in me. I am glad to hear that the situation in Gaul is improving; I cannot say the same for ours here in Britain. Medraut has begun referring to himself as "King of Cerniw" and, even worse, "King of the South." It is now well known that Ginevra is highly pregnant with a child that could impossibly be Arthur's. According to the stories being spread from Celliwig, the babe will be the heir to both the lines of Medraut and Ginevra — and is thus the true heir of Erbin, legendary king of Dumnonia. No matter that there are many more who can claim direct descent from Erbin, among them you, Kustennin, and Arthur. What worries me is that Medraut seems to have learned the trick of harnessing the power of the word. It may not sound threatening to a warrior like Arthur, but we have had bards coming through the market of Lindinis singing tales of the hero Medraut, deprived of his birthright and fighting to get it back. The power of the word is underestimated in Britain; in Eriu we have ever been aware that those who control the stories control history. While Medraut has not come out and said it, he is doing everything in his power to make it look as if he should be Arthur's heir. Arthur may not claim the high kingship of Britain, but I am convinced that is what Medraut is reaching for.

  I cannot impress on you enough that, from what I see, it is more than time for Arthur to return to Britain. This goes beyond any assistance we might need, although that is also a major concern. I realize that Arthur is reluctant to confront his wife and his nephew, but if he could only understand that the situation is more than a personal failure and grasp the political dimensions he does not want to see, perhaps he would be able to realize what damage the war games he is playing with the Frankish king could cause here. Has he forgotten his old war cry, "Britannia Patria"? What is he doing fighting back barbarians in Gaul, given the recent developments in Britain?

  I know how much you admire your cousin, and yes, I know that both his mother and his sister call Armorica home. But given the signs, I am almost certain that Medraut will mount an attack against us in spring at the latest.

  And now I have filled up two sheets with my forebodings. Forgive me. I find it hard to close with any comforting personal anecdotes, but if nothing else, at least I can assure you that Riona is well and we have been able to double the men for the defense of Lindinis since my last letter.

  I hope you are well, and I hope you will be able to return to us soon.

  Your Yseult

  Cador to Yseult, greetings.

  I have spoken with Arthur again, but he insists we must winter here in Gaul; if we were to return to Britain, he fears Chlodovech would see it as a perfect opportunity to regain the territory the Frankish tribes have lost to us, winter or no winter. The weather is more mild than in Britain — making the season for war longer as well.

  This chafes me so much, but as Dux Bellorum, Arthur commands my loyalty. Not only that, I cannot forget the service he did Britain in defeating the Saxons so soundly at Caer Baddon that they have not been a serious threat since. And yes, I understand that the threat is now coming from within, from problems Arthur either refused to acknowledge or refused to address when they arose. But I cannot leave him now, as much as I want to. If you are directly threatened, however, I swear I will leave Arthur's service whether he allows it or not.

  In your next missive, please send me word of Riona. I long for some good news to hold on to and make the time here waiting for the next battle a little more pleasant.

  Your Cador

  Yseult to Cador, greetings.

  I am sorry that I forgot to tell you of Riona's progress in my last letter. She is walking (unsteadily) now, and babbling merrily in a language no one understands except for a few words here and there, such as "Mama" and "Enid" and "no." I suspect part of the problem is that we do not always know which dialect she is trying to speak — that of her mother, or that of her home.

  We continue to make progress in recruiting new warriors, and have recruited a new bard as well, young Taliesin, who was in Illtud's monastery school for a time. Otherwise the news is not good. Not only is Medraut developing a small army, our spies have reported that he now corresponds regularly with the traitor Cerdic of Vectis. Unfortunately, we have not yet been able to intercept any of their communications, but some of my advisors fear, given the fact that Cerdic has a Saxon wife, that Medraut is attempting to enlist the assistance of the Saxons in whatever plans he is making. Our men took one of the messengers, but he had nothing in writing on him and he died of his injuries before he could be brought to Lindinis. But even i
f Medraut is allying himself only with Cerdic, it would be enough to put us in a very difficult situation here in Lindinis, with Medraut to the southwest and Cerdic to the southeast. I will continue to try and intercept a message in order to have a better idea of what we will be facing and when.

  I hope Arthur soon wins enough ground to feel comfortable in returning home; we are doing our best to prepare ourselves for war, but we would feel much less anxious if we had more experienced fighting men among our troops.

  Stay safe, help Arthur defeat the Frankish king, and come home soon.

  Your Yseult

  Cador to Yseult, greetings.

  Cold winds and unrelenting rains have put an end to our campaign against Chlodovech for the time being. We celebrated Christmas and the Christian new year here in Subdinum; I would have much preferred to return to Lindinis in order to be with you and Riona for my daughter's first birthday. But whether Arthur would have allowed it or not, the seas have grown rough and very few ships dare the crossing at the moment.

  I can only hope that you are wrong about Medraut's plans, but I fear that is not the case. If there are any actual troop movements, either by Medraut or Cerdic, send to me immediately, I beg you.

  At least correspondence between Gaul and Britain is more reliable than it was between Britain and Eriu; I rejoice that I now hear regularly how you fare. Given the fierce weather at the moment, however, it may take some time for this letter to reach you — I doubt there will any boats crossing until the present storms let up.

  I long to see you and talk to you again, and pray daily for this war to soon be over.

  Your Cador

  Yseult to Cador, greetings.

  Spring is only a hint of warmth on the wind, but war is coming to Britain early this year. Medraut is besieging Lansyen and Voliba, and Cerdic and his son Cynric have left their island and are marching north against Venta. I hope this news is serious enough that Arthur will consider changing his plans and return to defend Britain, or, at the very least, send a contingent of warriors for the defense of Dumnonia. We gave up the vast majority of our army for the war against Chlodovech, and now we are easy prey for these ambitious leaders who are using Arthur's absence to take advantage of our weakness.

  I have written Arthur as well, but I beg you to speak with him personally and make our case. We cannot hold out against two armies at once without reinforcements.

  We have learned that before Medraut began his campaign, Ginevra gave birth to a baby boy, Melou — a little over a year after Riona's birth. With the help of some very creative genealogy, Medraut now claims that Melou is the heir of the High Kingship of Britain.

  If Arthur does not return soon, all is lost.

  Your Yseult

  Book VI

  Love Returned

  Chapter 27

  When summer came, Arthur made ready to set out for Rome, and was already beginning to make his way through the mountains when the news was brought to him that his nephew Mordred, in whose care he had left Britain, had placed the crown upon his own head. What is more, this treacherous tyrant was living adulterously and out of wedlock with Queen Guinevere, who had broken the vows of her earlier marriage.

  Geoffrey of Monmouth, The History of the Kings of Britain

  Cador drew in a deep breath and pushed back the flap of Arthur's tent.

  His cousin looked up from the wax tablet on which he had been composing a letter, and one of his rare smiles lit up his features. "Well met, Cador." Then he seemed to take notice of Cador's expression. "Or not?"

  Cador shook his head. "Not. I have come to inform you that I am returning to Britain."

  Arthur put aside the writing tablet and rose. "But we are nearly at our goal! Finally we are winning battles against Chlodovech rather than just chasing him from one site to the next."

  "I have had word that Medraut is attacking Lansyen."

  The smile died on Arthur's lips. "From Yseult?"

  Cador nodded shortly. "Luckily, she is in Lindinis."

  "Go to Caer Leon first," Arthur said, clasping his hands behind his back in his typical strategist pose. "Gareth and Gaheris must have built up a respectable army by now, and they will ride with you against Medraut."

  Cador shook his head. "I will send them word. I need to get to Yseult, make sure she's safe."

  "Good, but be careful. We will follow as soon as I can wring a treaty out of Chlodovech. It should not be much longer. Keep me informed so I know which port we must make for."

  Trying to hide his disappointment, Cador nodded shortly and exited the tent. Even with Medraut attacking his neighbors, Arthur still did not deem it necessary to put a halt to his nephew's rebellion immediately.

  What had become of the savior of Britain?

  * * * *

  There were no Easter festivities being planned in Lindinis this year. The news that Cerdic and Cynric were attacking their neighbor Natanleod in Calleva reached Yseult only a handful of days after they learned that Venta had fallen.

  Yseult dismissed the messenger and turned to Enid. "I must speak with Ricca."

  "I will go with you."

  Yseult picked up Riona and settled the toddler on her hip. Together the women left the villa in the direction of the fields that had been transformed into practice grounds. As the most experienced warriors in Lindinis, Yseult's personal guard had taken over the training of new troops, advancing to military leaders of the patchwork army. Most of their days now were spent in arms and riding lessons with farmers and craftsmen, as well as the occasional practice skirmish.

  As Yseult and Enid came through the apple orchard next to the fields, they could hear the clunk of wooden swords and shields, and the ring of real weapons as well. Although the spring day was cool, men grunted with exertion and wiped sweat from their brows.

  Their steward Alun saw them first and hurried over. He had found himself neglecting his agricultural duties in order to help with preparations for war. The best planting would come to nothing if an enemy army trampled it down.

  "Is there news of Arthur or Cador?" Alun asked as he joined them.

  Enid shook her head. "Cerdic's forces are moving north into Natanleod's territory."

  Alun sighed. "We can only hope Calleva will not fall as quickly as Venta. If it does, it is only a matter of time before Cerdic marches west."

  Yseult caught sight of Ricca and signaled to him. "Precisely. And our villa here would be extremely difficult to defend."

  Alun and Enid looked at each other, and Yseult could feel their sorrow; they suspected what she was going to suggest.

  "What news?" Ricca asked, sheathing his sword.

  Riona was squirming to be put down, but Yseult held her tight. "Cerdic will soon be attacking Calleva. And the messenger we sent to Lansyen almost two weeks ago still has not returned."

  "You think it has fallen to Medraut's forces?"

  "I think we must prepare for the worst." Yseult thought of all the people there who were dear to her, thought of Drystan's standing stone she would no longer be able to visit. "Come, let us move away from all these swords and horses."

  Yseult led the way back to the villa and into the herb garden. They sat down on benches at the edge of the arbor. Yseult put Riona down, and she began chasing birds and butterflies at an unsteady run. "With Medraut claiming the kingship of Dumnonia and no word from Lansyen, I suspect he will soon have his sights on Lindinis."

  "Don't you think he would try to take Isca first?" Alun asked.

  She shrugged. "He might. But he might also decide that it would make more sense to trap us between two armies, perhaps intending to capture me and Riona. Besides, Isca would be much more difficult to take."

  "Ah, this beautiful villa," Enid sighed.

  Yseult watched Riona bend down to pick dandelions. "Yes. But it is not a fortress."

  "You think we should move to the hill-fort of Dyn Draithou," Ricca said.

  She nodded. "We will be safer there."

  "Some of the buildin
gs have fallen into disrepair," Alun said.

  "But the defensive structures are intact," Ricca added.

  Enid leaned forward. "Since it is in the system of signal fires established by Arthur, Cador continued to keep a small force there even after we moved to the villa. They are also responsible for the maintenance of the most important buildings. We would not be moving into a ruin."

  Yseult shot her mother-in-law a grateful smile. So like reliable Cador to be prepared for every eventuality.

  She turned to Alun. "I want you to take carpenters and masons and whatever craftsmen you think you might need and go to Dyn Draithou, see how much work would have to be done before we could move the household there."

  "I will go with him," Enid volunteered. "I can inspect the kitchens and calculate how many people the houses will hold."

  "Our new soldiers can help build more," Ricca said.

  Riona clapped her hands and laughed out loud at the sight of a bird ruffling its feathers in the bird bath, and Yseult couldn't help but smile. "Good. We should be prepared to move as soon as possible. Our enemies might decide to attack at any time."

  The others nodded solemnly. None of them wanted to leave the comfortable villa life behind, but to keep the lives of their people safe, they would.

  * * * *

  A mean wind whipped across the wide, flat top of Dyn Draithou, making spring feel very far away. Whenever Yseult came out of the protection of the defensive walls or the sturdy wooden buildings, she had to fight against the wind, which always seemed to push her in a different direction than she wanted to go. It ripped strands of hair out of her braid, slapping them into her mouth, and there was little she could do but spit them out again, hardly behavior fit for a queen.

 

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