by Tony Hays
I knew nothing of a brother to Arthur, and though I wanted badly to ask, I held my tongue, simply bowing my head to acknowledge the compliment.
“You have questions, or else you would not be here. Ask.”
Something in my belly told me that dancing a jig for her would be unwelcome, so I opted for the truth. “I assume you know that Doged has been murdered?”
Igraine nodded. “He was a kindly old fool, a good friend in days gone by but a fool nonetheless.”
“Some odd things happened on the night of his death, and when I try to say that they were connected with Doged’s death Arthur becomes completely unreasonable, almost irrational. When I spoke of these things to Merlin, he sent me to you.”
Despite her illness, she smiled. “Merlin. You know, his name is really Myrddin, but it was Arthur who could not say it properly when he was a child, so ‘Merlin’ he became.” A new coughing fit struck her and she dabbed at her mouth again. “Continue.”
“There appears to have been more than one Doged traipsing about the hall that night.”
At that, she burst into laughter. “Ahh, that old fool. Of course he would remember that.” More coughing, and then she shot a penetrating look my way. “This made Arthur upset?”
“Aye.”
She nodded. “He was always a sensitive child. And Merlin sent you to me?”
“He did.”
“Sit.” And she indicated a sturdy chair next to her bed. “Morgan Tud, you spineless worm! Bring mead for me and my guest.”
“Morgan is a good man, a good medicus.”
“Morgan is a creature of Lord David, and no more vile a man has drawn breath in this world.”
Even I, who truly hated David, was taken aback by the venom in her words. “I do not dispute your assessment of David, but I am not convinced that Morgan is truly his creature, at least not any longer. He was of great service to your son in the recent affair with Melwas.”
“When that pig kidnapped Guinevere?”
“Aye.”
“Well, at the least he is a poor medicus.”
“How so?”
“I am still dying, am I not?”
I could not argue with that.
“But you came to understand Doged’s death, not to discuss Morgan ap Tud or that hyena David. Too many stories were told about those affairs, and all of them wrong. With Doged dead, only Merlin and I know the truth. I am told that you are a man who knows how to safeguard a secret. Both Merlin and Arthur speak of this virtue. In truth, I would have sent for you soon myself. At least one man living should know how it really was. Now, I must tell this in my own way; it may be the last time I utter these words and I wish no misunderstandings.”
“As you wish.”
And she began.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I was but a child when I was promised to Gorlois. At the time I was entranced by his strength, and his looks. He was a handsome man. And when you are but fourteen winters, you do not have the foresight to see that muscle turns to fat and wrinkles rut even the clearest skin, with time.
Then, one day, Ambrosius and Cadwy came to our hall at Celliwic. Gorlois had refused to pay his taxes to the consilium. Vortigern was then the high king, and he had thrown over his Briton wife for a Saxon one. Though not a good man in all things, Gorlois had strong principles, and he disagreed with Vortigern’s actions.
Ambrosius and Cadwy were sent to treat with Gorlois and negotiate some settlement. With them was a young noble, more boy really than man, Uther. It was at a feasting, and I could not take my eyes from him. I think I loved him from the first.
I had seen my husband have notes slipped to other women at court, arranging rendezvous, and quite frankly, I pitied them. Gorlois, for all of his looks and fine figure, did little for me in the bed. He took my innocence, true, and I had had little experience with men before then. But after that first time, our couplings rarely lasted longer than a few minutes, and I found myself oddly uneasy afterwards.
Uther stared at me with an intensity I had never felt before. It was as if his eyes could lay me bare, and I could very nearly feel his hands on me. Calling one of my serving girls, one of the older ones who understood such things, I bid her take my message to Uther.
That night, I discovered what lovemaking was all about.
And it was lovemaking. We loved each other with a passion that seemed to consume us both, and afterwards, we lay, wet and spent among the furs, the scent of our mating wrapping us in its delicious warmth.
I grew uncomfortable with her telling of their coupling, and it must have shown on my face, because she paused.
You are no stranger to mating; stop acting shocked. It is as natural as sunrise.
I still believe that Gorlois was unmoved by our affair, but then he had other matters on his mind. Vortigern was adamant that he pay proper obeisance to the consilium. Ambrosius and Cadwy were sympathetic to Gorlois, but they were good and dutiful lords and did as they were ordered, pressing the consilium’s suit more with each passing day.
Uther and I were, quite simply, besotted with one another and paid little attention to the growing crisis. Uther’s dearest friends in those days were another young lord, Doged, and an unusual man from Carmarthen, Myrddin. I say unusual because he was not noble and, though he had been a soldier, he was prized more for his vast knowledge of things than any other attribute. They knew of our liaison and helped arrange our rendezvous.
But at the feasting that night, tempers flared. Words were spoken, hateful, spiteful words, and a blow was struck, sending the hall into a deep silence.
Frustrated and prideful, Ambrosius had told Gorlois one too many times what he “must” do. Gorlois rose and gave Ambrosius the back of his hand. And then he shouted the words that chilled my heart.
“You are no longer welcome in my hall. Take your men and go. These lands are no longer allied to that bastard Vortigern and the consilium.”
And with that, Gorlois ordered Ambrosius, Uther, Merlin, and the rest to leave his lands. As they had come as guests, he could not have them killed, but I truly believe that he wanted to.
Uther and I had no chance for any sort of farewell.
Vortigern did not take Gorlois’s actions well. He summoned his troops, supported by the Saxon mercenaries, and lay siege to Celliwic. I thought never to see Uther again. And then I learned that I was with child. It had to be Uther’s, as Gorlois rarely touched me more than once or twice a year. And quite honestly, I had employed none of the devices with Uther that my serving girls told me noblewomen used to stave off conceiving. What’s more, I wanted his child. I had never wanted to be mother to Gorlois’s spawn.
Had my husband listened to his advisors, he would have fallen back on Tyntagel, which is very nearly impregnable. But he refused to accede to their requests. In all fairness to him, Gorlois believed that to fall back even an inch would do nothing but encourage his enemies. And he was right.
Assaulting Gorlois at Celliwic, while certainly something that could be done successfully, would mean a full-pitched battle, with many dead and wounded. No one wished for that. I was told later that there was much grumbling among the common soldiers about doing battle with other Britons in such a manner. Indeed, I have heard that some trace Vortigern’s ultimate downfall to the affair at Celliwic.
It was a horrible time. I remained at Tyntagel, frightened to my very soul that something would happen to Uther. Each morning I woke with dread, worried that a new report would tell of his death. In my despair, I came to a sudden realization that I loved Uther, really loved him.
You must understand that love was not a requirement, is not a requirement, in marriages between nobles. I respected Gorlois; he was essentially a good man, though not the one I would have chosen for myself. But he was supremely stubborn. And I knew that every man at Celliwic would die before Gorlois surrendered.
Fearing the worst, I sent one of my servi to find Uther in the opposing camp. She was to tell him to come to me at Tyntag
el.
“You asked him to steal into your husband’s fortress at a time of war?”
Do not interrupt me. I was but a child and did not think of the consequences. But as I sat in my chamber and fretted, the door opened, and I could have sworn that it was Gorlois striding into my chamber. When his cloak fell away, I saw that it was my own Uther, dressed as Gorlois.
Afterwards, after we made love, he told me of how Merlin had tutored him in looking like another, and of how Doged had helped him avoid patrols between Celliwic and Tyntagel, at great peril to himself.
And at that, I understood why Merlin had sent me here. If Doged had arranged for my many Dogeds, then I believed that I was beginning to see how everything fit together.
“You must have been distraught when the consilium launched its assault against Celliwic, for fear of Uther’s death.”
Igraine looked at me with narrowed eyes. “Are you as trustworthy as my son says?”
“I hope so.”
“Then listen. There is more. You see, the consilium never assaulted Celliwic. Officially, Uther exploited a weakness in the defenses and entered the fortress with a small band of men. They discovered Gorlois in his hall and killed him in a fierce fight. With Gorlois dead, I sent an embassy to Ambrosius, asking for a truce and pledging fealty to the consilium.”
“Though Gorlois was killed, you must have been pleased that the affair was settled without a larger battle. Poor Gorlois, victim of his own stubbornness.” I shook my head. Such had led many good men to their deaths.
“You misunderstand me. Gorlois did not truly die at Celliwic. He died here, in this very room.”
And I was confused once again.
And she continued her tale.
We lay together naked, on this very bed, pledging our love, planning the future. And then the door flew open and Gorlois entered.
I never dreamed that he would find us. He had not visited me in more than a fortnight.
Gorlois was not a stupid man; he knew that I was bedding Uther. But the situation had changed. He was now at war with the consilium, Uther’s master. And this was now treason.
Uther fair leaped from the bed, his eyes frantically searching for a weapon. Gorlois drew his dagger and backed Uther against the wall.
And then a strange thing happened. Gorlois dropped his dagger; his eyes grew glassy; he fell. And I realized that I was then standing, naked, with a bloody dagger in my hand. I had murdered my husband to save my lover. But the reason mattered not at all. Should we be found there with Gorlois’s body, his nobles would condemn us and summarily execute us.
The consilium would never oppose it, for with Gorlois dead, by whatever means, they knew that the remaining nobles would sue for peace. Uther would be sacrificed for the sake of peace and I, well, I was a woman and did not really matter.
We barred the door and immediately sent one of my girls to find Merlin and Doged, who were hiding in an old Roman shrine not far away.
When they arrived, it was Merlin who took charge. Once, Uther, showing how young he really was, began apologizing for Gorlois’s death. “Stop this,” Merlin ordered. “None of us liked Gorlois. And if we do as I intend, you will receive credit for killing him, in battle, and you should never apologize for killing a man in combat.”
I protested, “I killed him, Merlin.”
And then he did something I never expected and have never forgotten. He slapped me. Not hard. Just enough to focus my attention. “Never say that to anyone else.” And I never have until this minute.
The whole matter was over within hours. With Uther dressed as Gorlois and me at his side, we had no trouble taking the body into the fortress at Celliwic. Merlin and Doged wore tunics of Gorlois’s service and no one dared question them.
We cleared the hall, arranged Gorlois’s body in the doorway to his private chamber, ensured that his sword was in his hand, and then we inflicted more blows on the poor fellow, from the front this time so that we might say that he died in battle. At Merlin’s insistence, Uther and Doged endured minor cuts and wounds to further the charade.
On the way to Celliwic, we had dispatched one of my girls to Ambrosius’s camp with instructions for a small raiding party to arrive at the main gate at a time specific. And at the appointed time, Merlin and Doged, dressed as Gorlois’s men, hurried to the main gate, told the men that Gorlois needed them in the feasting hall, and then opened the gate for the raiding party.
The rest was chaos for half of an hour, or a little more. When the shouting ended, it seemed that Uther, Doged, and their men had surprised the garrison, killing Gorlois and seizing the fortress. Vortigern was so pleased that he granted Uther all of these lands.
Later, when Gorlois’s nobles began to whisper about the child I was carrying and how they had not seen their master near me, Merlin put about that he had cast a spell on Uther, making him the very image of Gorlois, and by such subterfuge Uther gained access to my chamber and my bed. It removed the stain of my adultery, and yet raised Uther’s reputation among the men. Indeed, I understand that Merlin was continually pestered by men wishing the same spell cast upon them.
“That is an amazing story. So Arthur became so upset because he feared that your adultery would be revealed.” That was my conclusion, not a question.
Igraine shook her head wearily. “No, I never told Arthur the truth. As he was growing up, he heard the story that Merlin put about. But Arthur was a sensitive child, and he was upset by the tale of his mother’s infidelity, and his own illegitimacy. I knew he could never accept the actual truth.” Her words trailed off into a wistful tone.
“Of your own willing adultery?”
Her eyes snapped back to me. “No, fool, that I murdered my husband, Gorlois. That his friend Merlin helped me cover it up.”
Voices rose in anger in the outer chamber or feasting hall, but I ignored them.
“I will keep your secret, Igraine. If Arthur hears it, it will not be from me. But you bear no true blame. You killed Gorlois, yes, but to save the man you loved. If such killings are indeed sinful, then I am condemned to Hell a hundred times over.”
The constant scowl on her face softened. “My son chooses well in his advisors.”
“Your son will behead this advisor unless he gives me a very good reason for disturbing you.” Arthur burst through the door, and I almost did not recognize him. He was not dressed as the Rigotamos but in common garb.
“You will be silent, Arthur,” Igraine rebuked her son. “I am still your mother, and Malgwyn has done nothing to disturb me. Rather, he has lifted a tremendous burden from me.”
Her sharp tone brought Arthur up short, but not so much so that softened his tone. “And what burden would that be?”
“That is none of your business. I did not want you to bring this one-armed man into your councils, but he has proved his worth. And he will continue to, I am certain.” She paused and seemed to see, for the first time, Arthur’s manner of dress. “Now, tell me why you have braved this intolerable weather dressed as a common latrunculus?”
At that, Arthur turned rather sheepish. “I was told that Malgwyn was headed here. If we have any chance of saving Mordred and preserving Doged’s lands for the consilium, I need Malgwyn focused on the problem at hand, not off chasing ghosts.”
“We were finished, Arthur. Cease your whining. You were always a whiny child. Besides, I suspect that Malgwyn now knows who killed poor Doged.”
And I did. Though the knowledge gave me no pleasure.
Arthur looked to me. “Do you?”
I nodded.
“Then let’s return to Trevelgue.”
“In this gale?”
“You braved it to come this far. We have yet more work to do.”
“Listen to him, Arthur. It is a horrible night.” His mother’s voice had changed to a pleading tone I had not heard before. The famous Igraine, known for her ill humors, was a caring mother after all.
“What escort did you bring?”
�
��Sulien and two others. Oh, and he insisted on bringing the girl Daron.”
“Why did he insist on that?”
Arthur waved my question off. “He feared for her safety.”
“And brought her out in this hell? Execute him,” advised Igraine.
The Rigotamos moved to his mother’s side and gently touched her face. “Morgan will care for you. I must sort out this mess.” He went to remove his hand, but hers grasped his with a speed I did not know that she possessed.
“Yes, you must. Do not worry about me. I will survive that dratted Morgan’s efforts to kill me.”
“I will return as soon as I can.”
And with that, we were out of the feasting hall and back in the storm.
* * *
The sky was beginning to lighten to the north and the wind, while still strong and treacherous, was steadier. Rain continued to pelt down but not as ferociously as before.
In the inner ward, Sulien, Daron, and the other two stood by their horses. As we walked over to join them, I asked Arthur what was uppermost on my mind: “Has there been any word from Castellum Dinas?”
He shook his head, the tangled, wet locks of his hair slapping his face. “No, and Tristan had not yet arrived from Castellum Marcus by the time I departed.”
“He will come; of that much I am certain.”
“You have never liked Tristan, Malgwyn. Why do you place such certainty in him now?”
“He was but a child then, Rigotamos. He grew during his confinement, into a good man, I think.”
But Arthur, lit by the flickering of torchlight, still looked unconvinced.
Sulien rushed forward then and took my good arm, steering me a few steps away from the others.
“Something has gone much awry, Malgwyn. Since you left for Tyntagel, Ysbail has entertained a strange series of visitors.”
I shrugged. “I am sure Arthur knows of this—”
“No, he was away from her hall, meeting with his soldiers, until he discovered where you had gone.”