Guinevere (26 page)

“There is one other thing, Merlin,” Arthur broke into his reverie. “I want you to help me with something else. I am growing older. In two years, I will be thirty. It is time we should think of my marrying.”

Merlin started in alarm. He had been hoping to put this talk off, for he had always felt a sense of dread whenever he thought of the matter, although he didn’t know why. He tried to assume a jocular attitude: “So, you have met some local girl who appeals to you? There are a few of the old families still living around here. Would you like me to speak to her father?”

Arthur blushed and his years and self-assurance slid from him. “No, Merlin. I have not met her. But I have thought long upon this subject. If I am destined in some way to rule Britain, I must have a wife who is worthy of that, even more than I am. Also, if she could bring something, a dowry, which would be a sort of symbol . . . that is . . . I have heard of something . . . she is said to be very . . . Merlin, you must guess whom I mean. Help me!”

Merlin guessed. The last thing he wanted to do was help.

“Do you mean that empty-headed child of my cousin? She is hardly the type I thought you would consider. I don’t know what you have heard of her, but you mustn’t believe it at all. It is true that she is rather pretty, but hardly worthy of her family. She is spoiled and heedless, with no more feelings than an insect. There isn’t a man in the world with luxuries enough to satisfy that one.”

“That isn’t what her brothers said of her. And why would Lady Guenlian long for her so if she had no heart? Even Lady Sidra praises her. Others tell me that she may be the most beautiful woman in all Britain. They say she smiles kindly on everyone, regardless of their station. That speaks well of her feelings. I would like, at least, a chance to meet her. Won’t you arrange that much, Merlin?”

Merlin felt a chill wind at his back. He knew that he must not do this thing. There was something terribly wrong. But he did not know why. And he could think of no excuse that would satisfy Arthur.

“I think it will be a mistake. But if nothing else will make you happy, I will ask Leodegrance if you can visit Guinevere at Cador.” Merlin hoped devoutly that she would have a cold.

“Thank you, thank you! You won’t try to prejudice her against me, will you? I know I am clumsy and loud and not well-bred, as she is, but I would give her everything I had and be very kind to her. You know that.”

“Of course I do, you young idiot! Don’t you see that I am trying to tell you that I don’t believe she would be kind to you!”

“That is my concern. Let me at least meet her.” Arthur’s jaw was as set now as when he planned his famous strategies of war. Merlin knew there would be no more argument.

“If that is your desire, lord of Britain, that is what shall be done.”

Guinevere rode through the forest joyfully. The day was beautiful, soft, and moist with growth. A thousand shades of green crept across the trees, the stones, and the earth. She was still riding pillion behind Belinus, as a proper lady should, but she wished for her own horse and the freedom of riding astride. It could be very uncomfortable to have to twist like that, sitting sideways but turned forward to hold on to the rider. But today they were traveling slowly, so that she did not need to hold on. Everyone was relaxed. The men sang or told stories or speculated on their chances of being accepted to serve in the mysterious new legion Arthur was forming.

Gawain led the group. Once this had been a good-sized road, wide enough for at least three men to ride abreast. But it had been abandoned to the forest some years ago and now young trees burst from between the stones, and moss and tangly vines covered most of the rest of it. Still, the trees were not yet full grown and the pathway was still visible. It was a good road to take if one was in no hurry, cool and inviting. It was not much trouble to pick a way around broken rocks and saplings. Gawain yawned. It was late afternoon and time to be looking for a place to camp. He glanced back to see that everyone was keeping up. Guinevere seemed to have drifted into a half sleep herself, he noticed. She leaned against Belinus’ back with her eyes closed. He could tell that Belinus was nearly rigid in his attempt to keep straight and still so as not to jostle her. Gawain chuckled. She would have to ride with someone else tomorrow. The honor of carrying her was clearly more than Belinus could bear. Every muscle in his body would be sore by morning if he kept that posture long.

Suddenly there was a crashing sound in the forest, and, before they could realize what was happening, the road on both sides and before them was full of men. They were shouting and waving long knives and axes. The horses reared and tried to plunge through them, but the men held firm and their axes glittered in the setting sun as they slashed at the horses’ legs and necks.

“Treachery!” Gawain cried, drawing his sword. “Belinus, get Guinevere away from here!”

With a wild cry he drove the sword into the man nearest him. Then he circled around, trying to cut his way to Belinus, who was trapped in the middle. He was glad to see that everyone had kept their heads and had tried to form a tight circle around Guinevere. She was clutching Belinus’ waist tightly, and sensibly leaning to the left so that his sword arm would be free. But there were only a few of them and there must have been over fifty Saxons. Where had they all come from? How long had they been waiting? How did they even know that the caravan would come this way? Gawain hacked at another man in his path, and was frightened to feel how heavy his sword was becoming. He realized with a wave of panic how low the sun was. In desperation, he swung wildly at the glinting knives that were trying to chop his horse from under him, to drag him to the ground. He could tell that he was being cut off from the others and that they were all being separated. Belinus was making a valiant effort to get through and away, but it was no use. Someone had planned this too well, he thought bitterly. But who could have known?

He could feel the energy flowing from him as the sun sank behind the trees. As if in answer to his question, his last sight before he lost consciousness was of Ecgfrith, watching from the side of the road, a satisfied smirk on his face.

• • •

For a moment, Guinevere was hardly aware of what was happening. Her first thought was that she must keep her seat or risk being trampled. Soon it was clear to her that the other men were being surrounded and pulled from their mounts. She could hear their cries of anger and pain. She saw Cheldric frantically switching his sword to his left hand, his right arm hanging limp and bleeding at his side. Then they were around her and she was too frightened and confused to notice what was happening to the others. The attackers were pulling at her, despite Belinus’ brave attempts to ward them off. He was hampered by the fact that he couldn’t use his weapon well without hitting her, too. His horse reared and plunged and Guinevere slipped. She hung from the folds of his cloak and tried to scramble up again. But someone grabbed her leg and another got her about the waist. She screamed and dug her nails into the cloth. Belinus frantically tried to twist himself around and hold her, but another man slashed at the horse’s hindquarters so that it reared again. Belinus was caught off balance and thrown off, taking Guinevere with him. Her fingers were still so tightly attached to the cloak that when they pulled her loose, the material ripped and stayed in her bent hands. She screamed hysterically and struck out in blind terror at those holding her. She heard raucous laughter and smelled a nauseating combination of human sweat and rancid animal oil. Then something hit her and she slumped across her captor’s shoulder, unconscious. Her last thought was of her unicorn.

Once Ecgfrith saw that she was taken he called to the other warriors to come away quickly.

“But some of them are still alive!” one protested.

“Leave them!” Ecgfrith ordered. “Especially that one!” He pointed at the snoring Gawain. “I want them to know how we have beaten them and what we have taken from them. Lame the horses so that we cannot be followed. We have no need of them to defeat these dotard peacocks. Hurry! We must be back to our camp by tomorrow at dawn.”

The men disappeared into the dark woods. Most of those in the company that had ridden out from Cador were dead or severely wounded. The horses went mad in their pain and wandered wildly among trees and sharp-edged rocks. They stumbled on far from the place where the men lay in their agony. Only Gawain slept peacefully through the night.

Chapter Fourteen

Gawain had awakened at the first light of dawn to the screams of the downed horses and the moans of the wounded men. He saw that apart from a cut on his leg, he had not been harmed. He felt sick with self-hatred. They hadn’t even thought him dangerous enough to kill. At this time, he considered, a proper Roman soldier would fall on his sword and so assuage his shame. Luckily, Gawain had little Roman blood, and it occurred to him that his death would not help those of his friends who were still alive. Of the twelve men who had been the escort, four were slain, three more were probably near death, including Cheldric, and the others, excluding himself, were wounded badly enough that they could not be expected to travel far on foot.

Gawain cursed himself again as he realized that in the new morning he had strength enough to bury the men that he had been too weak to save the night before. He tended first to the wounded and then started preparing the graves. He had just finished his task when he heard a horse trotting through the forest.

A messenger on his way from Lord Cador to Sidra halted and gaped in disbelief at the carnage before him.

“Stop gawking and race for your life to Leodegrance. Have him send help; horses and litters. Tell them the Saxons have captured his daughter. Go!” Gawain shouted. The man never bothered to speak. He simply turned his horse and went back as fast as the road would let him.

Gawain placed the men who still lived on a pallet of blankets and clothing under the trees. He did his best to bind the cuts and gashes, but two more men bled to death before noon. Cheldric was delirious with fever and the pain of his mangled arm, but he would not submit to death. He was furious at being trapped so ignominiously and shrieked over and over again what he would do to the Saxon swine, until Gawain felt almost grateful when he finally fell unconscious and subsided to an incoherent mumble. Gawain had managed to slow the bleeding, but it seemed impossible to him that the arm could be saved. Knowing Cheldric, he thought it might be better if the man did not survive.

Belinus had only hit his head when he fell from his horse and had been knocked out for the night. He had a terrible headache and was having a difficult time focusing, but otherwise he was whole and feeling more guilt than pain.

“I couldn’t protect her, Gawain. I let them trick me. What will they do to her?” he repeated, despite Gawain’s insincere reassurances that they probably only intended to hold Guinevere for ransom.

The other two men, Lothra and Morcant, had deep cuts on their legs from the knives. Although they would be unable to walk for some time, they had received no permanent harm.

Gawain tended them as best he could all day, and Belinus was well enough to take over for the night. Early the next day Leodegrance galloped in, accompanied by half the men from his estate. It was clear that he had not bothered to carefully pick a trail among the rubble. He didn’t bother with formalities either, but took in the situation at once and set his men to preparing litters and administering medicines. His eyes swept across Gawain, who was so obviously unhurt, and turned from him in contempt. He knelt beside Morcant and asked him gently what had happened.

Morcant glanced questioningly at Gawain, who gestured for him to answer.

“It was that Ecgfrith, sir, that hostage that escaped. We thought him dead or we never would have come this way. He knew where we would be! He knew our weaknesses. That sister of his! She made out that she was Lady Guinevere’s friend, so shy and frightened! She must have told him everything. He didn’t understand two words we said. Pigs!” The word spat itself upon the ground.

“Is the Saxon girl still at Cador?” Leodegrance wanted to know.

“Yes, she’s safe enough there.”

“Then we will deal with her soon, when there is time. The first thing we must do is to get my daughter back. We are taking you all to my villa. None of you is in any condition to fight. You acquitted yourselves well in her defense, but your work is finished. I’ve sent for Arthur.”

Without a word to Gawain, he arranged for everyone to be taken with them. Gawain was given a horse and followed the procession, loitering behind, ashamed to stay with them but too proud to run away. He cursed his unknown father passionately.

They traveled all day, keeping a fast pace despite the care needed for the wounded. But Gawain’s heart sank when he realized that it would be nearly night again when they arrived. He lashed himself to the horse with his reins, determined not to make a fool of himself by sliding from the beast and being lost in the woods.

Guenlian met them at the gate, her face drawn and empty. Merlin and Arthur, she told them, were already there and Cador had been reached and would arrive soon. Arthur had brought a large force if needed, to attack the Saxons. The legion was camped in the field behind the villa. She sent the wounded men to rooms made ready for them, but paused when Gawain slid clumsily to the ground before her.

“Bring that one with you,” Leodegrance ordered sharply. “There’s nothing wrong with him and he has many questions to answer.”

With a mighty effort, Gawain managed to stumble after Guenlian into the atrium. It was half an hour past sundown. All the strength he could muster was not enough to keep his eyelids from falling and, as soon as they had entered the building, he slumped limply to the floor.

“Leodegrance! I thought you said he was not hurt!” Guenlian cried in alarm. “What is wrong with him, then? I can’t rouse him.”

Merlin hurried over from his place and gazed with pity at the collapsed form.