Shadow of Stone (The Pendragon Chronicles) (62 page)

"Good," Ricca murmured beside her. "They are going to take up position rather than riding straight into battle."

Marrek pointed. "Medraut will try to cut them off."

"But he won't be in time," Ricca said.

Sure enough, the enemy troops, who until moments before had been occupied with little more than blocking access to and from Dyn Draithou, were scrambling to respond to the threat from outside — a force less than a third their size.

"How many men can we spare from the defense of the ramparts?" she asked.

"We have over two hundred warriors here in Dyn Draithou," Marrek said.

"It depends on how many you would want to keep for defense if worst comes to worst," Ricca added.

Meaning, if all the men sent into battle perished.

"Ricca, you are in charge of the defense of Dyn Draithou — what do you think?"

"We have fifty horse fit for battle. We could spare another fifty men as foot soldiers, but they would not be able to respond as quickly."

"Good, have your best riders mount up and be ready."

"We do have a strategic advantage at least," Marrek pointed out. "Medraut's forces are trapped in the valley between us and Cador."

"Yes," Yseult said. "But with so many more men, how long would he be 'trapped'?"

"If Arthur had only sent a larger force, it could have saved us," Ricca murmured, echoing her thoughts. He turned to Marrek. "You remain here with the queen; I will lead the forces to assist King Cador."

After Ricca left, they turned back to watch the events play out below. Little happened at first. Once Cador's mounted warriors had gained the ridge, they seemed to be waiting for Medraut to attack. Medraut, on the other hand, appeared disinclined to charge up the ridge despite his superior numbers, as that would put his forces at a distinct disadvantage.

Then, to Yseult's surprise, Medraut's army turned towards Dyn Draithou and began to ride for the hill-fort.

He was trying to draw Cador out, make him leave his relatively protected position.

No, Cador, no, we're safe here, don't!

But of course he would not listen to her, even if he could hear her. Cador and Gawain's warriors charged down the ridge again, banners waving, their war cries echoing across the plain.

It was exactly what Medraut was waiting for. The besieging army turned and converged on the small force coming down the ridge.

Ricca's cavalry raced out of the gate and down the hill to join the fray, but Medraut's army continued to pursue the men under Cador and Gawain's command. Yseult could see how the warriors from Dyn Draithou engaged some of the stragglers in Medraut's ranks, taking them out fairly quickly, but still the enemy army ignored Ricca and his men.

"They want to take the king," Marrek murmured, almost to himself.

Yseult did not answer. From this distance, she couldn't recognize the figure of Cador among the warriors fighting on the incline, but she thought she saw the great gray stallion Wyllt, his favorite warhorse. She hoped she was wrong, because Medraut's men were deliberately fighting towards the figure on the large stallion.

She clenched her hands at her sides. "No." She hadn't even known she'd spoken out loud until she heard her own voice. Not now, not when they were almost close enough to see each other, closer than they had been in two years. She could almost swear she could feel him, his rage, his fear for her. She tried to send a call to him.
I am safe. It is you they are after now. Save yourself!

It had no effect. As she watched, the enemy with their blue shields drove steadily forward, deliberately attacking the warriors fighting beside the man on the gray. It was Cador — it had to be. Targeting one particular warrior made no sense otherwise.

And then the last warrior next to Cador fell — a tall, blond man, shoulder-length hair spreading out beneath his helmet, in a tunic of crimson and white. Yseult raised a fist to her mouth and choked back a sob. Could it be Gawain? The other warriors out of the way, Medraut's men surrounded the lone figure of Cador, cutting him off from the rest of his troops.

Her own men were clashing with the enemy, trying to fight through to join forces with their allies on the ridge. But then a series of horns could be heard. Medraut's men converged in the center of the plain and began riding hard in the direction of the Roman road to the west.

And Yseult could no longer discern the gray stallion or his rider.

The besieging army melted away as if it had never been. Or as if they had achieved their purpose and had never intended to wait on the plain below Dyn Draithou for the hill-fort to fall. As if they had known from the beginning that they could not take it.

Yseult watched Medraut's retreating army, her hands clenched at her sides, not understanding a thing. She was losing Cador yet again, and there was nothing she could do.

"Lady, if they intended to kill him, they would have done so, and they would still be here," came Marrek's gentle voice beside her. "Their retreat only makes sense if they want to use him for ransom or as leverage to get something from you or Arthur."

Yseult nodded, not trusting her own voice. The mounted warriors Yseult had sent out to harry and provoke Medraut were chasing him in the direction of Lindinis, but the distance between them was growing. Besides, with their much smaller numbers they would have little chance of rescuing Cador. Soon Ricca would see sense and turn back. On the ridge opposite, what was left of Cador's troops were regrouping and heading down the slope.

She gazed back to the enemy horses thundering in the direction of the Roman road. Once they disappeared between the distant hills, Yseult's gaze wandered from the horizon up into the summer sky. Harmless white clouds flitted by against brilliant blue, while a refreshing breeze teased at the strands of her braid. It should have been a perfect day. Cador had been so close, and now he was gone, and she didn't know what Medraut would do with him — what chance she had of ever seeing him again.

"Lady? Queen Yseult? Are you all right?"

"Leave me alone for a moment, Marrek, please. I will join you all when Ricca has returned."

He glanced towards where Medraut's army had disappeared, apparently judging it far enough that she would not impulsively take a horse and charge after them. He nodded. "As you wish."

As he turned away, Yseult absently rubbed the corners of her eyes and looked back up into the brilliant blue sky. Could there be any comfort or wisdom in the shape of the clouds? There, one like Kustennin's curls when he was a toddler. The thought reminded her of the youthful King Cador who had always enjoyed taking her little boy up in his arms. For Cador, spending time with the young ones had never been a chore. Although she had long ago taught him the trick of hiding his thoughts, it had been easy enough to read him when he was around children, easy to see the joy that lit up his eyes, how happy he was to be distracted from the duties and responsibilities that had cut short his own youth so early.

Although the day was warm, she hugged her arms around herself and continued to stare up into the sky. There, a cloud like the roll of a gentle hill, much like the hill where Drystan was buried. Could it mean acceptance, perhaps?

In the next cloud she saw the shape of a belly, big with life — but that only reminded her that in her husband's experience, such burgeoning life had led to death, not once but twice, leaving Cador mourning not only two wives, but two unborn children. She could still remember her son's heart-wrenching sobs as he cried himself out on her shoulder after his foster mother Terrwyn's death — and how she'd wondered if he would have as many tears if his own mother died.

The clouds that followed reminded her of the waves off the coast of Dumnonia, just as they had been when she had used her power of calling to go in search of Cador after Arthur suggested they wed — and she had intended to tell him she was agreeable to the proposition.

Agreeable? When she thought about it now, it was surprising how quickly she had consented to the strange notion of marrying Cador, especially given the fact that she'd been so convinced she never wanted to marry again. Not to mention that she had a lover in Gawain, a warrior who was regarded as one of the most desirable men in all of Britain — a ladies' man who had left broken hearts behind him everywhere he'd ever fought.

Something Cador had never done.

Yseult dropped her head into her hands. How had she been so blind for so long? Cador was the one she wanted — not Gawain, not even her laughing, dead Drystan, as much as she still loved him and probably always would. But at some point over the many, many years of their friendship and then marriage, Cador had become a fixed part of her life, the stable center to which she always returned: reliable ally, dear friend, now partner in a marriage that had been both rocky and smooth as they attempted to adjust to each other.

She knew now that it would be even harder learning to live without Cador than it had been learning to live without Drystan.

When had the affection she felt for Cador turned to love? It could have been before his marriage to Terrwyn, or before her affair with Gawain, but she had not recognized it for what it was. This time, love had crept up on her so slowly, had come as such a gradual change, she had never understood what her feeling of connection to him meant. A hint of it had long been there, probably since Cador had been one of the few people allowed to visit her while Marcus Cunomorus held her prisoner in the villa outside of Isca. In those days, he'd been her lifeline, the one who kept her sane, the one person aside from her small son Kustennin and her cousin Brangwyn who brought her joy.

That seed had been growing for almost twenty years.

Now that she understood, it made sense that she'd had so few misgivings at Arthur's suggestion she and Cador marry.
She loved him.
Or was she merely recasting her past to fit her present? She honestly did not know.

What she did know was that she had to get him back. Marrek was right — if Medraut meant to kill Cador, he could have done it on the battlefield just now; then there would have been no need to retreat, no need to abandon the siege.

And as long as Cador was alive, there was a chance that she could save him. She squared her shoulders and concentrated on the valley where Medraut had disappeared with his men, concentrated on the mind of her husband.
Stay strong, Cador. We will come for you as soon as we can
.

She hoped he wasn't already too far away. But then she was flooded by a sense of relief — was that him?

Ricca and the surviving warriors under his command had given up the chase now and were returning to Dyn Draithou. She left the ramparts and headed in the direction of the main gate to greet them. On the way, she stopped at the kitchens and asked the servants to get a pot of water boiling. She would need it for treating wounds later, once the injured were brought in.

When she arrived at the gate, men were already dismounting — and in their midst was Gawain.

Yseult rushed forward with a glad cry. "Gawain! I thought I saw you fall on the ridge!"

He pulled off his helmet and pushed his sweaty hair back, shaking his head. "As you can see, I am fine," he said, his voice subdued. "It was probably Gaheris you saw on the ridge. He fell trying to keep Medraut from taking Cador. I'm sorry, Yseult."

She laid a hand on his arm. "Oh, no, Gawain, it is I who am sorry. First Gareth, now Gaheris."

"Medraut has much to answer for." Gawain's voice had taken on a brittle edge.

"I am glad at least that you are well."

Gawain nodded shortly, otherwise not responding. Yseult understood.

She took a deep breath. "Gawain, why did Arthur not come with Cador?"

He shook his head. "Cador did not say. He sent a message to Caer Leon, and we met on the road from Durnovaria. I fear Arthur will not be happy until Chlodovech is beaten back to the gates of Parisius."

Yseult could hardly believe how angry she was — at Arthur. "I can only hope he is either soon successful — or soon comes to his senses."

Gawain sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Yes."

Chapter 28

Long white my fingers,

It is long since I have been a herdsman.

I travelled in the earth,

Before I was a proficient in learning.

I travelled, I made a circuit,

I slept in a hundred islands

A hundred Caers I have dwelt in.

Ye intelligent Druids,

Declare to Arthur,

What is there more early

Than I that they sing of.

"The Battle of the Trees" from
The Song of Taliesin

They buried all the bodies of their own men — except for that of Gaheris — in the cemetery north of the hill-fort. Gawain wished to have his brother laid to rest in a place he could visit regularly, and for that, the body would have to be sent north to the seat of his wife Ragnell. Yseult saw to the preparation; it was not the first time that she had treated the dead with cedar oil, just as she treated the living with infusions of self-heal and birch bark.

Medraut's dead they burned on a pyre.