by Tony Hays
Bedevere slumped then into a rickety old chair, fashioned from trimmed tree branches and lashed together tightly with leather. He leaned forward and put his face in his hands, much as Illtud had done. “I am sorry, Malgwyn. You are right.”
“There is the other still, Bedevere.” He knew that I meant Morgan, who had been scarce since our return. “We cannot be certain that the Druid did these things.”
Bedevere’s long-vaunted stoicism hid a passionate man beneath it. I learned this many moons before, when Bedevere and I commanded troops of horse for Arthur. After a Saxon raid, we were searching a village for any survivors or lingering Saxons. They had been especially destructive, setting thatched roofs afire, the yellow and blue flames licking at the heavens. The wind carried the sickeningly sweet odor of burning human flesh. On the edge of the village, we had dismounted our troops and began a sweep. After about thirty minutes, I circled one of our ubiquitous roundhouses and found Bedevere, sitting on the ground, holding a child who had been butchered by the Saxons. The famous soldier with the iron heart was crying. He did not see me, and it was not the time to intrude. I slipped away.
Now I was seeing a glimpse of that Bedevere, the one who cared enough to cry for a child.
No one spoke for a long moment, until Bedevere raised his head and searched the dimly lit room. “I am sorry, Malgwyn. I cannot erase the image of those poor girls from my mind. Nor can I forget the curse that Druid laid on Arthur. He stands for all that I abhor in the world, in our world. Pagan beliefs that demand human sacrifice. And Mordred? We should have killed him when Ambrosius stepped down.”
“You do not think that I agree with you? Of course I do,” I told him. “I would have choked the life from him with my one hand! But I did not, and the time is now past for that. This time, I do not think he knew exactly who he was bringing among us.”
“No. I did not.”
Mordred.
In our confusion, we had not seen him enter. He crossed the room and took up another chair, pulling his sword from his belt as he sat. Illtud’s hand shot to his own blade, but Mordred waved him off. “I am not here to fight. I am here to listen.”
None of us knew exactly how to take this. Mordred seemed almost reasonable and none had seen this side of him before.
He pushed his braided lock from his face and smiled at me. “Malgwyn, you and I will never be friends. Indeed, I fear that before all is said and done I will have to kill you. But none of that is important now. I desire this match between Arthur and Aircol’s daughter as much as anyone. We need strong, dependable northern allies, and Aircol is both strong and honorable. I would have married the girl myself to secure his entrance into the consilium, but only the hand of the Rigotamos would do.
“Merlin has told me something of what happened at the White Mount and in Aircol’s city. And that Wynn shadowed you all along the way. I embrace our old ways, our old gods. But I would not have agreed to bring him here had I known what Merlin has related.”
“How did that occur?” If Mordred was disposed to be agreeable in this affair, then I could do nothing less.
“I stopped at Ynys-witrin before coming on here. Melwas introduced him to me and asked if I would bring him in my party. I think Melwas knew that there was bad blood between Wynn and Arthur, but I do not think he knew all of it.”
“If he knew there was bad blood, then why would he want to complicate matters here?” Illtud asked.
“Melwas is not disposed to be agreeable to Arthur right now,” Mordred answered with a chuckle, and we all exchanged knowing looks.
Guinevere.
“I do not deny that I want to be Rigotamos, but I am not, yet.” Mordred added the last word with a certain emphasis. “But now is not the time for Arthur’s authority to be usurped. Now is the time to consolidate and solidify our holdings. But once offered, I cannot withdraw my promise of hospitality, not without some evidence.” He turned that thin, hawkish face toward me. “I take it you have no more evidence against Wynn than you had against me.”
“Less, my lord. But there is always time.”
Mordred chuckled. “I will offer this. He will continue with my party, but we will keep him under constant watch. I brought a troop of horse, and they will encamp outside the castle. I will stay with them for the most part. And I will personally see that he does nothing of the sort here. If you can prove his guilt in these other deaths, I will deliver him to you. Otherwise, he will simply be an annoyance; he will do nothing more.”
“Not even make a little mischief at Arthur’s expense?” Bedevere queried.
My enemy narrowed his eyes and smiled in that sly way of his. “A little mischief never hurt anyone.”
He stood, replacing his sword in his belt. “Agreed?”
Kay, Bedevere, Illtud and I exchanged looks. We had little choice actually. “Agreed,” I answered for us all.
“Then relax, my lords. We have a wedding to celebrate.” With a smile and an almost imperceptible bow, he left.
“What now?” Illtud voiced what all of us were thinking.
“Now,” I said, “we wait for my old friend, Gareth, to send help.”
“The thief?”
“He’ll lend us a few men again to keep our own eye on the Druid, Mordred, and Morgan.”
“The medicus? Why he?”
Bedevere and I exchanged looks. Kay and Illtud should know. “Morgan was with us when both girls were killed. On at least one of those occasions, his whereabouts cannot be determined. And do not forget that Morgan is a creature of Lord David, newly thrust into our midst. I will not bore you with my own doubts about David, but…”
“You do not believe Mordred.” Kay made it a statement, not a question.
“My heart tells me that he is not lying this time, but my head tells me that I should never trust Mordred.”
We swore Kay and Illtud to secrecy about Morgan, but the more I considered him, the more he made a certain sense.
* * *
We stayed up late, discussing our developing problems. Aircol, whose mind was already poisoned against Wynn by our suspicions, would not look with favor on the Druid’s presence, and he would look with even less favor on the man who brought Wynn into our midst. And that, we agreed, was good.
Gareth’s men arrived, using their varied skills to slip past our guards and through the gates. We set one to watch the Druid and the other to watch Morgan.
Before I took my rest, I walked the lanes to Ygerne’s house. I wanted so badly to be with her; I wanted so badly to know what I had done to raise her ire. But the dark windows and stiff breeze sent me back to my own hut, a sad and dejected man.
The next morning brought a clear sky and a bright sun. A hint of chill flavored the air as Merlin and I prepared for the day, reminding my bones and joints that old age was not too far in my future. I had already been abed when Merlin came home the night before, and, as was our wont, we did not speak upon arising.
Pulling on my braccae, I fell backward onto my fur blankets, as Merlin snickered at my discomfiture. “I have not killed anyone yet today,” I warned him.
A knock sounded at the door as I scrambled to my feet and wrapped my belt around my waist. “Enter!”
The door swung open to reveal Lord Aircol, dressed rather plainly, an odd, confused look on his face as he saw me tugging on my braccae and securing my belt awkwardly with my one hand.
“Malgwyn, pardon me!”
“No pardon necessary, my lord. How may I serve you?”
“I wondered if you might take your morning meal with Gwyneira and me? We have some things we wish to discuss with you.”
Merlin gave me a jaundiced look. We had shared a house long enough to know almost immediately what the other was thinking. He smelled something unpleasant in this.
“Of course, my lord. But you could have sent one of the slave boys to fetch me. You surely didn’t have to come yourself.”
Aircol smiled grimly. “This is to be a confidential discussion. Join u
s in Arthur’s private chamber if you will.” Without further comment, he spun and started back up the rise to the hall.
“Walk carefully, Malgwyn. Aircol is not a happy man,” Merlin cautioned.
I nodded, slid my dagger into my belt, and followed in Aircol’s wake.
* * *
Gwyneira looked more lovely than ever. She had taken a length of hair from the back of her head, braided it and then wrapped it around the top of her head like a crown. The rest she wore swept back behind her ears.
Arthur’s chambers were modest, taking up the rear third of his timbered hall. He had recently enlarged his own space, walling off two extra rooms. The wall of each was covered with one of his banners, the red Cross on white linen. Each also held a simple bed and table with chairs, better constructed than those gracing mine and Merlin’s home.
Blackberries had come into season, and I noted a bowl of them on the table in Aircol’s chamber along with bread and cheese. Gwyneira sat in one of the chairs and Aircol pointed me to the other. Whatever the source of his displeasure, be it the Druid or some other irritant, this was not the happy, almost giddy lord I had met in the land of the Demetae.
For a long moment, Aircol held his tongue. Then he whipped around and threw a bit of parchment in my lap.
Scrawled across its smooth side in a crude hand were two words—abeo meretrix, the rough Latin word for a woman who sells her body. “Die whore.”
“Gwyneira found that on the floor beside her bed this morning!”
I had no words; I just sat, dumb, looking at the hateful message. “My lord…”
“You must find out who has done this, Malgwyn. You gave my daughter your sacred promise to be her confidant, her protector.”
I did not remember it exactly that way, but this was not the time to argue. My brow furrowed into a frown. The issue here was not the insult to Gwyneira and her father. No, the issue in this was that someone had gained access to her chamber at night, while she was there, right under the very noses of Bedevere’s guards.
“My lord, that such a message would be left does not surprise me, not really. My cousin Guinevere is popular with the common folk, and I know that there are many who oppose this union. I feared that Gwyneira would be subjected to this sort of name calling, but I thought it would come out in public, embarrassing but hardly dangerous. This, however, is different. With your permission, I will tell Bedevere of this.”
“Bedevere! I will see Arthur now! Or I swear that I will pack our wagons and return to Dyfed!”
I leapt to my feet. “Lord Aircol, we cannot allow our enemies to drive a sword between us! Forgive me, lord, but if you speak to Arthur in anger, you could irreparably damage this union, and it is one you both desire. Please remember why you came here. Give us a chance to take new measures. Give yourself a chance to calm. I take full blame for this. Let me tell Arthur of my failure. I beg of you.
“We will limit Gwyneira and her bodyguards to your own men, Kay, Bedevere, Illtud, and myself. One of us will be with her at all times. I have promised to be her guardian here, and we will sell our lives cheap to vouchsafe hers!”
The earnestness of my appeal seemed to touch Aircol, as the lines in his face became less rigid, less severe. “You are right, Malgwyn. I do desire this union.” He turned away for a second and spoke to me without looking. “You have a daughter yourself, I understand.”
“Yes, my lord. A child named Mariam.”
He spun around. “Then you know how it feels to be a father. Gwyneira would tell you that I am overprotective, aye, overreacting to this, this, thing,” and he pointed at the parchment.
“That I would,” Gwyneira said, speaking for the first time. “Father, if I am to sit beside Arthur, it is my duty, my responsibility, to win the people over. Why should they not consider me a meretrix, a common woman? I am unknown to them.”
Aircol threw me a quick look. Both of us realized that she was ignoring the most important aspect—the access the doer of this deed had. And we both knew that nothing we said would convince her of the significance of that fact.
“I will take this to Arthur immediately,” I promised.
“Then I will give you that chance. But I will speak to him myself when the opportunity permits.”
“Please understand, I do not seek to hide this thing. I simply seek to correct it without endangering all that you have worked for.”
“Very well.” Aircol paused, the ruddy cast retreating from his face. “I am sorry that I reacted so badly, Malgwyn.”
Poor Aircol, the thing that would eventually spell his doom, I feared, was that he was a good man.
“You owe me nor any man an apology for that, my lord. She is your daughter, and I would think less of you had you had any less anger than you did.”
The redness had faded from his cheeks completely then, and he sat next to Gwyneira. “She and little Vortipor are all I have, Malgwyn. Some fathers do not value their daughters as they do their sons, but I am not one of these. She is every bit as clever as her brother. Aye, and she has a talent for diplomacy that I am afraid will forever elude Vortipor.”
At that, Gwyneira blushed. “Forgive my father, Malgwyn. He has the blindness common in a parent. These little things,” she said, pointing at the parchment scrap, “have no meaning. They do not frighten me.”
I stood, took the bit of parchment, and let a frown paint its way across my face. Something in the writing was familiar, but I could not remember from where. “You should be frightened, my lady. Whoever did this has the ultimate weapon.”
Then, both Gwyneira and Aircol looked at me with astonishment. “How so?”
“They are unknown, and it is always the unknown that harbors the most danger.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“I will have guards stationed around the hall every second of every minute of every hour!”
I had never seen Arthur so enraged. He was stomping around the main room in Kay’s house like an angry ox.
“No, my lord, you will not.” I will admit that I took some pleasure in overruling the Rigotamos. It was not something I could do often, but it did please me. And at my insolence, he advanced on me with red, angry eyes, but Bedevere calmed him with a light touch on his shoulder. “Listen to me, Rigotamos. If you surround your hall with soldiers, you will simply be doing what this scum wants. He wants you frightened. He wants you showing your fear!”
Arthur’s chest heaved beneath his tunic. “What would you have me do then, Malgwyn? You think you have all the answers! What would you have me do?”
I too breathed deeply. “I have few answers, my lord. But you have trusted Kay and Bedevere all of your life. Trust them now. Trust me now. From this moment until the wedding, let us move Gwyneira to mine and Merlin’s house. When she is needed at your hall for ceremonial functions, we can spirit her in through the kitchen.” The idea had come to me as I made the inevitable trip to see Arthur.
“Your house is safer than my hall? Explain that to me, Malgwyn!” Arthur was furious; the veins in his neck threatened to explode through the skin. At that moment, I feared that I had gone too far at last.
But Kay and Bedevere immediately saw my plan, and Kay rescued me from my own stupidity. “Arthur, we will place one of the serving girls in Gwyneira’s place at the hall. No one will know that we have moved her. And it will be easier to guard her at Malgwyn’s house. It is not a public place. But your closest advisors, aye even you yourself, are always visiting there. Aircol was seen there just this morning. We can keep a much closer watch on her, and perhaps catch this rogue if he tries something else at your hall, without putting Gwyneira at further risk.”
At that, Arthur stroked his beard, twisting the ends of his mustache as he did when in deep thought. “Agreed.” He turned on me then. “Malgwyn, I give you great freedom in dealing with me. And I have devolved great responsibility on you, trusting in the decisions you make, and I have great respect for your ability to untangle the skeins of these affairs. But you a
re not the Rigotamos. I am. And I will be the one the people judge for your actions. Never forget that.”
And with that, he swept from the room.
Chastised, I hung my head.
Bedevere slapped me on the shoulder. “Take heart, Malgwyn. He could have ordered you beheaded.”
“Perhaps he should have,” I said. “I have been singularly unable to find who killed those girls at the White Mount and in Aircol’s town. And I sought to lighten my mood by irritating Arthur. I was wrong to do that. Arthur deserves better from me.”
“Nonsense,” Kay answered. “You simply forgot your place for a moment. Arthur allows all of us too much freedom, but it is a freedom that must be unspoken and as invisible as possible. And, most important, it is a trust and a freedom that must never be betrayed.” He paused. “Malgwyn, I know you curse the man who killed these girls in such a brutal and vicious way. We all curse them. But, in the greater world, their deaths are simply a pity and of little consequence. Do not torture yourself so over it, and do not accord them more importance than they deserve. Larger issues are at stake.”
I was so angry with myself that I stood rooted to the spot. And I was angry with Kay for dismissing those dead girls so easily. They had been beloved by people, and that alone made them important. It took the grip of Bedevere’s hand on my good arm to shake me from my reverie. “Come, Malgwyn. Arthur considers you as a brother. His anger will fade. We have work to do.”
* * *
Merlin hired two women from the town to clean our house. We were neither of us very good at that sort of thing, and we periodically commissioned someone to clean.
I went to Ygerne’s house to see if her anger had abated, but she was not there, and none of the children could tell me where she had gone. Owain had taken Mariam and some of the other children to the market square in front of Arthur’s hall to see the goods for sale and to watch the arrival of the lords of the consilium.