Shadow of Stone (The Pendragon Chronicles) (63 page)

Taliesin wrote a poem for the fallen warriors which he recited at the funeral:

There will be to me a true friend, a comrade in battle,

A companion who will take my part and the sword aimed at my heart.

There will be to me an army and flow of blood in a good cause,

The ruddy path of wolf and star against the blue shields.

There will be to me blood and pain, and the glorious moment of victory

Before slow death numbs the limbs and brings the final truth of battle.

There will be to me honor and praise, the tales sung of our deeds,

Songs to let us live on when our bones are cold in the ground.

When Taliesin was done, there were very few dry eyes among the mourners.

A funeral feast had been prepared. After taking leave of the dead, they needed to return to the business of life. But Yseult was not yet ready for the transition. She turned to her mother-in-law. "Please begin the feast without me. I would like to be alone for a moment."

She lingered next to the graves while the others headed back up the hill to Dyn Draithou. Yseult's man-at-arms Rufinus had been among the fallen. She found it hard to imagine he would no longer be at her side, would no longer be saving her from some recklessly courageous act. Too many deaths — and the dying was not yet over.

Dark clouds were collecting on the horizon, a summer storm gathering. It was time to return to the protection of the hill-fort.

As she began to hike the path back up, she could feel her power of knowing pressing at the back of her mind, like the storm threatening just miles away.
No
— she did not want the knowledge of who was going to die next. She needed hope to carry on, to lead the people of Dumnonia and do whatever she could to see that Cador was rescued. She closed her mind tight against the premonition until slowly it slid away.

By the time Yseult arrived in the great hall of Dyn Draithou, mourning had largely given way to merriment. Bones chewed clean piled high on platters in the middle of the tables, and the air smelled of ale and was loud with tales of brave heroes fallen.

Enid had seated Gawain to Yseult's right with a symbolic place empty to her left, whether for Gaheris or Cador or simply as a gesture to acknowledge the men who had fallen, Yseult did not know. Outside, the summer storm broke, pounding on the roof and walls.

Despite the fact that Cador had been taken and Gaheris and Rufinus killed, Yseult and Gawain did their best to present a brave face at the funeral feast. After what seemed like much more than a mere few hours, the residents of Dyn Draithou began to seek out their beds or — if they had none — settle down on the floor of the hall in their cloaks.

Rain no longer beat down on the roof; it was a good time to retire. Yseult rose, and Gawain followed suit. "Let me walk with you."

She nodded, and together they left the hall.

The storm had swept away the clouds, and the moon was high and round and bright while the air remained moist and cool. The buildings of Dyn Draithou were clearly visible in the moonlight, all the colors leeched out except blue and gray and black. To the southwest, on the road to Cerniw, Cador was in the power of Medraut. She wondered if he had enough freedom to see a beautiful night like this, or if he was being kept somewhere without windows or doors.

"It is the beginning of the end," Gawain said suddenly as they left the shadows of the buildings.

She glanced at him sharply. "Do not say such things, Gawain, I beg you. The situation may seem hopeless now, but it is war. When living through a war, it always seems like the worst."

Gawain shrugged. "Perhaps. But I have lived through war many times before, and never have I been so hopeless. I find myself suddenly the last of my brothers, although I am older than either Gareth or Gaheris."

They climbed to the top of the ramparts. In the moonlight, the plain and hills below them were like a misty landscape from the Otherworld, a dream conjured by the likes of Taliesin.

She leaned her elbows on the ramparts. "I'm sorry, Gawain. It is hard for me to imagine how you are feeling. My only sibling is a boy I barely know, far away in another land."

He stared out at the moonlit landscape. "Of my brothers, Gareth was the one who was more well-liked," he said quietly, not looking at her, just needing to talk. "Gareth had a sunny temperament; he was easy to get along with. Despite that, Gaheris was the one I was closest to."

Yseult was surprised — not only had she shared the opinion of Gareth and Gaheris most people held, she had often seen Gawain's protectiveness towards his youngest brother.

Gawain gazed over at the ridge where his brother had died, his handsome lips pressed thin. "Not only were we less than two years apart in age, Gaheris was fiercely loyal, despite all his sarcasm and rough edges. He had depths he didn't show most people. Don't get me wrong, I loved Gareth too, but Gaheris — he was my right arm. We have been together most of the last twenty years. I could trust him implicitly, rely on him in all things. I —"

And then his voice broke, and he turned to Yseult. She didn't think of herself as someone who was very good at giving comfort, but she went to him, holding him close while he shuddered with painful sobs. She could feel tears rolling down her own cheeks, tears for Gareth, tears for Gaheris, tears for Gawain, who had lost two brothers in just the last few months. Tears for Cador, in Medraut's power in Celliwig, and tears for herself, that she had lost him again before she had even found him.

She didn't know how long they stood there like that, holding each other in the moonlight, comforting each other with closeness. But at some point tears and sobs stilled and they stood still, gradually realizing the physical nearness, rediscovering a knowledge they'd once shared.

Gawain lifted his head, and Yseult gazed up at him. He was the only lover she'd ever had who was so much taller that she had to crane her neck in this position.

This position. The way two people stood together who were about to kiss.

For a moment she was frozen in his arms. The need for physical comfort was strong — but they had both found something else now, someone who was right for them.

She gently eased out of his embrace and stepped back, rubbing her aching eyes with the back of her hand.

"Thank you, Yseult," came his deep voice. Without opening her mind to his, still she knew that he was not only thanking her for holding him while he wept.

She smiled and nodded. "And I thank you. I think that was necessary for both of us. Perhaps you should follow your brother's body north? See to his burial and visit your wife and child again?"

"And leave you to face Medraut alone?" he said, shaking his head. "I think not. If anything happened to you, I would never forgive myself."

"You are not my keeper."

He chuckled. "No, but I am your friend. I hope."

Once again, Yseult felt painful tears pressing at the backs of her eyes. After she had married Cador, Gawain had not been her friend, and she could hardly blame him. She had never made him any promises, but she had left him for another man, even if at the time it had been a marriage of convenience, an alliance she and Cador had been pressured into by Arthur.

"Thank you, Gawain. You are happy in your marriage, are you not?"

He nodded. "It might sound strange, but I think you would like my wife."

She cocked her head to one side. "But would she like me?"

Gawain chuckled, and she allowed the merry sound to convince her that she was right in her forced optimism. They had to remind themselves of the things to live for: Cador, Ragnell, their children.

"You forget, Yseult, she would discover soon enough that you are no threat to her."

It was Yseult's turn to chuckle. "Ah, the advantages of having a wife with the power of knowing! Assuming it is an advantage."

"Sometimes." In the moonlight, she could see a smile curling up the corners of his lips.

* * * *

Before Gawain and their combined troops were ready to go to Cador's aid, they received a message from Celliwig.

"What is it?" Gawain asked. "What does he want?"

Yseult stared down at the letter, hardly trusting her eyes. "It's from Ginevra. Medraut was not lying — her baby boy Melou is seriously ill. She wants me to come and tend to him."

"What? How can she ask for your help when Medraut holds your husband?" Gawain grabbed the letter out of her hands and scanned the lines.

"Logic has never been Ginevra's strong point," Yseult murmured. "Besides, she assures me that Cador is being treated well and that she has persuaded Medraut to let him go once I have healed their son."

Gawain flung the letter down on the table. "She is clearly mad."

"That may be, but I think I have made a horrible mistake." And then she explained to him how at the beginning of the siege of Dyn Draithou, Medraut had sent a message saying he would end the siege if Yseult accompanied him to Celliwig. "But I didn't go. And now Gaheris is dead and Cador captured."

"It is not your fault," Enid said from the shadows of the hall. She came forward. "You forgot to mention that Medraut burned our villa to the ground and I kicked dirt in his messenger's face."

"Yes, we saw the destruction on the way here." Gawain's voice was subdued, and Yseult could feel his conflicting emotions. She closed her mind — she felt guilty enough at is was.

"No one in their right mind would have believed Medraut's message," Enid said angrily. "I think he didn't want us to believe it. But now something has happened to make him take his wife's concerns more seriously."

Gawain shook his head. "He holds Cador as a hostage. If he had both of you in his power, he could practically dictate the future of Dumnonia."

"There is still my son Kustennin."

Enid picked the letter up from the table and scanned the lines. "Why is Ginevra so desperate to have you, a queen of Dumnonia, tend to her son?"

Yseult shrugged. "She had a hard time of it when Loholt was born, and she thinks I saved her life. Now she wants me to save her child's life."

"You will not go, of course. Medraut will kill you both."

"Then we will arrange an exchange. They release Cador, and I will treat the baby." The idea made her feel much better — it was the only way she could deal with her guilt.

"Then he will kill
you
," Gawain objected.

"Not as long as Melou is not yet healed."

"Could you really do that?" Enid asked. "Refrain from healing a child in your care?"

Yseult looked at her mother-in-law and drew a deep breath. "I admit it would be difficult."

"You would be putting yourself in great danger," Enid murmured.

"It doesn't matter. Cador has to see his daughter. Besides, perhaps this way I can gain time until Arthur's troops return from Gaul."

"Hopefully soon," Gawain said.

* * * *

It broke Yseult's heart when Riona held out her arms, tears streaming down her face, while her mother mounted a sturdy gelding for the journey to Cerniw.

"Mama!" Riona cried from where Enid held her on her hip. "Mama!" Riona was only eighteen months old, but she seemed to have understood well enough that this was more than a simple hunting expedition.

Yseult leaned forward in her saddle to give her little girl another kiss, resisting the temptation to scramble down from her mount. Cador was being held captive, and Yseult was the only one who could save him, at least until Arthur returned with his armies. But she could not wait for that. Riona deserved her father, just as her father deserved a child of his own. During her relationship with Drystan, she had put Kustennin's welfare before Drystan's. She would not make that mistake again. This time, she wanted to do what was best for her child's father as well as her child.

Medraut had conquered several sites in southwest Dumnonia on his recent campaigns, so they decided it would be safer to make the journey by boat. They rode for the port south of Durnovaria, and from there took ships around the peninsula to Dyn Tagell.

Brangwyn and Kurvenal were waiting on the beach when their landing boats came ashore. The cousins embraced, holding each other longer than necessary.

"You were right, you know," Yseult said.

Brangwyn gave her a quizzical smile. "About what?"

"You said I could be right or I could be happy. I have decided to be happy and beg Cador's forgiveness — assuming I still have the chance."

Her cousin's expression grew serious again. "I wish you the best of luck."

* * * *

Celliwig was no more than half a day's ride from Dyn Tagell; with fresh mounts and no pack animals, less. Medraut had agreed to the exchange, but none of them were inclined to trust him. They traveled with a large warband and halted at a strategic position within sight of the hill-fort, their colors prominently displayed. To Yseult's surprise, the small party that came in answer to her messenger was led by Ginevra herself.

Yseult rode out with Gawain, Kurvenal and a few of her men to a spot just out of the range of arrows. Ginevra's long, golden-blond hair, unbraided and unbound, whipped in the winds of Cerniw as her party neared the group of warriors. Unafraid, she stopped in front of Yseult, her expression sad. "I would have wished you might come to my aid without an army at your back."