The Beloved Dead

by Tony Hays

  “We all feel bad for Guinevere, Malgwyn,” Kay said with a touch of sadness in his voice. “But that will not change the situation. Nor will it make this child any more welcome by many of our people. I told Arthur at the beginning that he underestimated the people’s love for Guinevere.”

  And he had. We all had. But the rebellion of the previous year was still too fresh, and Arthur had seen a way to consolidate his position as Rigotamos as well as bring a new ally into the consilium. In practical terms, Arthur had been right. Most marriages among the nobility were matters of arrangement, negotiated to strengthen one lord or another’s position or wealth. But the one thing that set Arthur apart from all the others was the one thing that he could not afford right now—a heart. His heart told him he loved Guinevere at the same time that his head said he must marry another. I did not envy Arthur. Still, I suspected that Arthur would easily come to love Gwyneira.

  But none of that rescued me from the oath that bound me to Gwyneira. “Give her a chance, Kay. She has just arrived.”

  Kay cocked his head to one side. “I did not expect to find you defending her.”

  “She is just a young girl, being forced into a marriage to satisfy her father. She holds no blame in this.”

  “Still, life here will not be easy for her at first. After that, it will be totally up to her as to how she is treated.”

  “Not totally,” I murmured, but Aircol and Gwyneira had turned to face the people milling about the market square, stealing both my and Kay’s attention.

  I elbowed my way through, moving to a position behind and to the side of our visitors. Arthur’s soldiers cleared most of the area of the market square as Arthur, Aircol, and Gwyneira pivoted and faced the gathered crowd. After a long second, as the crowd cheered, Arthur stepped forward.

  “In two days, I will be married to Gwyneira, daughter of Lord Aircol of the Demetae. In honor of my wedding, I declare a general amnesty of all prisoners and two days and nights of celebration!” And that brought the crowd to its feet.

  Men and women alike shouted and chanted Arthur’s name. The whirling blues, reds, greens, and blacks of their tattered clothes nearly made me dizzy.

  Holding up his hands for silence, Arthur turned a smile on Aircol and his daughter. “Our guests have endured a long journey to be with us. We should give them rest before tonight’s feasting.”

  As the crowd continued to cheer, Arthur led them into his hall. I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see Kay at my side. “Arthur wants to meet with us at my house. He’ll be staying with me until the wedding, giving Aircol and his children the hall.”

  “Who will keep them safe?”

  “Bedevere is charged with security.”

  Kay was somber, more so than I had seen him for many months. He seemed to have aged years in the fortnight we had been gone. But I held my tongue.

  We made our way through the now dispersing crowd as merchants hawked their goods to people who could not afford them, their cries rising above even the constant din of the metalworkers at their hearths at the far end of the lane.

  Kay and I were silent for the first few minutes of our short walk, but something in his manner told me that he wanted to speak, so I started.

  “What is wrong, Kay? You seem about to choke on something.”

  “You could always read me well, Malgwyn. I did not know how to tell you this, but Arthur has decided to release Tristan and return him to Lord Mark.”

  I shrugged. “That’s probably wise. He has held him here for more than a year, and if he is to grant a general pardon to all prisoners, he can hardly continue holding Tristan.”

  The frown on Kay’s face told me he did not like my answer. The tall warrior had been in love with Eleonore, whose death had marked Arthur’s election as Rigotamos. And it was partially Tristan’s participation in that horrid murder that allowed Arthur to use him as leverage to keep Mark and the other lords in line. “Look, old friend, while Tristan bears some responsibility for Eleonore’s death, he is far from the most culpable. Others, still free, hold the most guilt. I am no more fond of him than you, but it is time to let him go. Besides, Bedevere tells me that Mark himself is about to remarry.”

  “I had not heard this. Who will he marry?”

  “Some Scotti girl named Iseult. I do not like it; I think any link with those Scotti scum is unwise. But Arthur can hardly tell another lord whom he should or should not marry.”

  Kay chuckled, but grimly. “But, Malgwyn, that’s exactly what Mark and David and the rest are doing to Arthur.”

  I felt my face flush. “Arthur is marrying Gwyneira for his people’s sake. An alliance with Aircol brings us nothing but more security for our people.”

  Kay stopped in the middle of the lane.

  “What?”

  “Malgwyn, just a fortnight past you nearly came to blows with Arthur over this marriage! And rightly so! Bedevere and I agreed with you, but we had not your courage!”

  “Or my stupidity,” I mumbled. “My arguments made no difference. Arthur is an odd sort of man. He is so concerned about being a good man, a good lord to his people, that he gives no weight to his own wants and needs. He sees this marriage as essential to stabilizing his position and securing peace. That he loves Guinevere is, really, of little importance.”

  I stopped and looked up at Kay. “I cannot fault his intentions, Kay. I want to. I wanted so desperately to find fault, but I know that his love for Guinevere is real, and I know all too well that he sees his marriage to Gwyneira as necessary and unavoidable.”

  “And she? What does she see?”

  I turned from him and continued walking. “How would I know? She probably sees only her duty to her father.”

  “You are a poor liar, Malgwyn.”

  “About some things,” I agreed. “Kay, she seems a good person, without the airs of so many of her station. Her young brother, on the other hand, is the spawn of the devil.”

  By then we had reached Kay’s two-story house along the lane that ran from Arthur’s hall to the barracks. Kay’s old servus, Cicero, met us at the door.

  “The Rigotamos is awaiting you,” he told us in his ancient, rasping voice. Kay had given him his freedom years before, but Cicero stubbornly refused it. “Where would I go?” he had asked Kay. And that had been that.

  Kay dropped his head to enter the house. I had no need. Kay’s quarters were not large, just three rooms on the ground level and one above. One corner of the hard-packed earthen floor was covered with a fur, over one of Kay’s storage pits where he kept his cheese, bread, wine, any vegetables. A sturdy wooden table sat to one side. A whiff of wood smoke lay in the air. I knew that Cicero kept his cooking fire at the back of the house.

  Arthur sat in a sturdy chair, hunched over the table. He rose at our entry and stepped quickly to us, laying his hand on my shoulder. “Malgwyn! It is good to have you back.”

  “It is good to be back, my lord.” I took his measure in a single glance. Close to, like this, the dark circles beneath his eyes were all the more pronounced. Wrinkles had deepened in his cheeks and along his neck. Arthur had aged ten years in a fortnight.

  He turned away from me quickly, feeling uncomfortable at the strength of my stare, I was sure.

  “I know, I know,” he said, waving a hand absently as he resumed his seat. “I look ill.”

  “You look as if you have had the plague and yet survive. Arthur, what has happened?”

  Merlin emerged then from the back of the house with Bedevere on his heels. “Yes, Arthur, tell us.”

  “Guinevere has not taken the news of my marriage well,” he said flatly.

  “And you thought she would?” I could not help myself.

  “I am not stupid, Malgwyn,” he snapped at me. But then, before I could respond, his shoulders sagged. “Perhaps I was stupid.” It pained me to see him so.

  “Perhaps hopeful is a better word,” I answered at long last. “But that is all past now. We must focus on what is, not wh
at could have been.”

  Bedevere, Kay, and Merlin all nodded. “He is right, my lord,” Bedevere agreed.

  “Did you receive my message about the Druid Wynn?”

  Arthur nodded. “I did. But he has not shown his face here.”

  “He wouldn’t have. He followed us to Aircol’s domain, where another girl was murdered exactly like the girl at the White Mount.” I stopped, hanging my own head.

  “And?” Arthur prodded.

  “And, nothing. Once again there were no witnesses. The town was searched afterward, but the Druid could not be found.”

  “Are you certain it was Wynn? Druids have never seemed to me to be the sort that would assault a woman, at least not unless it were a ritual killing.”

  “I am certain of nothing in this. But I know that Wynn holds ill will toward you. And I know that he was in the vicinity of both killings. That alone makes him worthy of consideration.”

  Arthur nodded. “We must put this aside now and concentrate on other matters. Tristan will represent his father at the wedding and then I will allow him to leave. I think we have proven our point. Messengers arrived yesterday indicating that Lords David, Mordred, Gawain, and Gaheris will arrive by tomorrow.”

  “And Melwas?” Bedevere asked.

  “Melwas is not invited, nor do I suppose he would attend if he were.”

  “And why is that?” I could not remain quiet. Melwas was always anxious to better his standing in the consilium and one such as he acting outside his normal character was more than worthy of note.

  “Guinevere,” Kay said with a frown.

  “Guinevere? I understood that she has returned to the women’s community at Ynys-witrin.”

  Arthur raised his head, his brown eyes marked by a question. “The women’s community? She is not there. She has taken up with Melwas at the great tor.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  “I do not believe it! Guinevere would never allow a snake like Melwas to touch her!”

  Normally, raising my voice to Arthur would infuriate him, but he scarcely acknowledged me. “She went to him two nights after you departed. Apparently Melwas had been trying to press his suit with her even before, but she had rejected him until I told her of the marriage to Aircol’s daughter. Less than a day later, she had taken residence in Melwas’s fortress.”

  And so the explanation for Arthur’s melancholy became apparent. His woman, once rejected, had quickly found another benefactor. It was not an uncommon story. The Lady Nyfain, young Owain’s mother, had suffered a similar fate. But I knew my cousin, and I was certain that there was more to the story. I could not imagine that she willingly sought solace in the arms of Melwas, whom I and most others considered little more than a toad. It would, though, explain his apparent reluctance to send aid when we were on the road. He probably weighed the risks of not responding and determined that making a complete break with Arthur was not in his best interest. Perhaps Melwas was smarter than I thought.

  I pushed the knowledge from my mind. I could not address that problem yet; other things took precedence.

  “Rigotamos, you should alert all patrols about this Druid. Regardless of whether he killed these girls, he means you nothing but harm. We used Master Gareth’s men on our journey to Caer Goch, to watch our flanks and keep an eye on the Druid. With as many troops as we had on our return, I saw no need. But I would like to bring two or three here to, umm, watch over us.” At this juncture, I saw no need to cast suspicion on Morgan.

  “Or has Gareth bribed you to get his men here to pick the pockets of my guests?” Arthur was not serious, and it brought welcome laughter to the room. “Very well,” he agreed. “Bedevere, see to it.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. For the first time since this entire affair had begun, I heard that special confidence in Arthur’s voice, that essential confidence that had first drawn me to his service.

  “The visiting lords will be encamping between Castellum Arturius and the River Cam,” Kay said into the pause. “We have laid in enough food to care for them for up to a week.”

  “The celebration will not last quite that long. Two days before the wedding and one day after. More than that would not be appropriate. Bedevere,” Arthur said, turning. “Triple our patrols in the countryside, especially the roads to the east. This is the first major gathering of our lords since the consilium met more than a year ago. I do not want any surprises.”

  “I will see to it. What about vigile patrols within the town?”

  Arthur’s eyes narrowed as if pondering something unseen. “Double those as well. I would have our town peaceful.”

  “Will that be necessary with Malgwyn’s spies about town?” Kay asked.

  “I would rather have too many eyes,” Arthur decided, “than too few.”

  “Has that been a problem of late?” Merlin asked. I barely heard the question, still stunned that Guinevere would ever seek refuge with Melwas.

  “No more than usual,” Kay answered. He turned back toward Arthur. “I will see to that also. Personal bodyguards for Aircol and his children?”

  “He has his own, but assign Paderic to them as well.”

  Paderic was Arthur’s cousin, a good man but one slow in mind. Given a specific task, he could be counted on to sacrifice his own life if needed to fulfill his duty. As a drinking companion, he had no equal. He was funny and full of life.

  The next few minutes were spent outlining the activities. Kay, despite his volatile personality, had obviously worked everything out. Finally, we had no more business to discuss. I rose to leave, but Arthur’s hand caught my one good arm. “I would speak with you alone, Malgwyn.”

  I just nodded. Bedevere, Kay, and Merlin left us alone, but not before Kay gave me a knowing look. When we were by ourselves, Arthur motioned to a chair and I took up my seat once more.

  Though the sky was cloudy and the scent of rain rode on the breeze, Arthur’s face and neck were slick and shiny from sweat. He was not looking forward to this conversation and nor was I.

  “Malgwyn, I do not know what to do about Guinevere,” he confessed, hanging his head so low that his chestnut locks brushed the tabletop.

  I shrugged. “Why should you do anything?”

  His head jerked up. “I cannot let her stay with Melwas!”

  “You have no say in the matter, Rigotamos. You rejected her and she chose another.” I was not predisposed to make anything easy for him. “You have known Guinevere long enough to understand that she controls her own actions.”

  “Do not pretend that I cared nothing for her, Malgwyn.” His tone hardened, nearly as hard as the look on his face.

  “And do not pretend that your decision to marry Gwyneira has no consequences.”

  “Will you go to her on my behalf?”

  “No,” I said flatly. I knew that he would ask such of me, though I wished with all my heart that he would not. I was one of the few people that Guinevere might actually listen to. “Arthur, I have followed you into battle and would gladly do so again. Though I disagreed with the decision you made, you had solid reasons behind you. I will not argue that point. Besides, the decision is done. The negotiations completed. You have done what you had to in order to strengthen both your position and the consilium. The Saxons do not want us acting as one. ’Twould be far easier to eliminate us tribe by tribe, lord by lord. I recognize that the decision you made was not easy. And I know that it is not unusual for a king to have mistresses. But I will not go to Guinevere and convince her to take the lesser role. She is my cousin and I love her. She would have made an excellent queen.”

  “You would have her in Melwas’s arms?”

  “No, but neither would I have her in yours, as your second choice.”

  “That is not fair, Malgwyn.”

  “What is fair, Rigotamos? Life is not fair. And affairs of the heart even less so.” I stopped. “I went to market one morning a husband and father, and returned to find my woman dead and my life destroyed. Is that fair? Arthur, I hav
e sworn my allegiance to you, and that has been a good thing for me and, I hope, for you. But I must draw a line somewhere, and becoming involved in your relationship with my cousin is that place.”

  His shoulders grew rigid at the affront but then sank in acceptance, and he stood slowly. “You are right. I have handled this situation badly.” He moved to a window and looked out on the lane through the cloudy swirls of Roman glass, salvaged I guessed, from an abandoned villa. “Give me an army and a battlefield and I can act with courage and cunning. I know how to deploy my soldiers, how to sense weakness in the enemy. But when it comes to dealing with women, I am an infant.”

  “All men are infants at that, Rigotamos. None more so than I.” Arthur was indeed a man of action. His quiet confidence in the face of the enemy drew men to his banner like bees to honey. And he prosecuted those battles with a passion and an iron will unmatched by any general I had ever seen. As the Rigotamos, the overking of lands that stretched from our southern coast nearly as far as the great wall in the north, built by the Roman Hadrian an eon before, he was popular for his faith in the Christ and his evenhanded dispensation of justice.

  “I will resolve this myself, Malgwyn, when more time is available. But should you chance to speak with her, let her know that she remains close to my heart.”

  In all the years that I knew Arthur, from battlefield to timbered hall, I will never forget his silhouette in that window nor the pain in his voice. That was the most vulnerable I had ever or would ever see him. “I will.”

  He straightened suddenly and turned. “Now, Malgwyn, we have much to do in preparation for this wedding. How do you find Aircol and his daughter?”

  “They are good people. The girl is young and beautiful, but she carries herself as a much older woman. She understands the responsibilities incumbent upon one in her position. Aircol appears to love the Christ every bit as much as you, and it was apparent from the start that he desired this alliance as much as you.”

  Arthur nodded. “That is good. Now tell me of the negotiations and I will give you leave to return to Ygerne. She is eager to see you, I am certain.”