Yseult: A Tale of Love in the Age of King Arthur (69 page)

The older woman linked her arm through Yseult's. "Yes, I understand." She pulled Yseult away from the sight of Aurelius and the other youngsters. "Come, Arthur would like to speak with you."

Arthur was outside the ramparts of the hill-fort, watching the older boys and young men at sword practice, among them Modrun's foster son Gareth and Arthur's nephew Medraut. Ostensibly, they had peace now, but Arthur was a warrior, and he did not trust peace; men under his command would be prepared for attack at any time. Beside him, his father-in-law Gwythyr and advisor Mryddin looked on approvingly.

When Arthur saw them approaching, he spoke a few brief words to Gwythyr and turned to meet them. The wind here on the plateau above the valley of the Cammlann whipped her hair around, and Yseult caught her tresses in one hand, holding them back.

"Good day, Yseult. Shall we walk?"

Yseult nodded, not trusting this courtly manner from the Dux Bellorum. Modrun gave Yseult's free hand a reassuring squeeze.

"You sent for me," Yseult said as they fell into step next to each other, away from the practice grounds and down the side of the hill towards the river Cammlann.

"Yes. I wanted to warn you. I've had news that Marcus has left Isca. He heard that you are still alive and escaped here to Celliwig."

"Already." To her shame, Yseult realized she was afraid. She had to speak with the man she had married, had to get Kustennin back somehow, but Marcus had been willing to see her burn at the stake. If he had wanted to kill her then, why wouldn't he kill her now?

"I thought you wanted to be reunited with your son?" Arthur asked.

"Yes."

Down here, below the summit of the hill, the wind was not as strong, and Yseult released her hair again.

"He will not just give him to you, you know," Arthur said. "You will have to return to your marriage — assuming Marcus can even be persuaded to take you back."

Yseult drew in a deep breath, gazing down at the river. "I know. And he could very well kill me as soon as he has me again."

Arthur shook his head. "He endangered peace with Eriu by threatening your life, and I will not allow it. I hope to make that clear to him. Seats he held for the defense of Britain are already forfeit."

Yseult shot him a sharp look. "And that is to sway him in my favor?"

"That is to make it clear to him that he does not rule alone here in Dumnonia, and certainly not by right of birth."

Yseult locked her hands behind her back, matching her pace to his. "Yes, I see now."

"You are a clever woman, Yseult. We have means of persuading your husband. If we are successful, and he allows you to return to him, I have a favor to ask."

"Gladly." She had been planning to make a life far away from Marcus, but now she would to anything to return to him; he had her son.

Arthur stopped, facing her. "I will arrange to send messengers to you regularly, and I want you to inform them of Marcus's activities."

Yseult shook her head, repressing an inappropriate desire to laugh. "Why should you trust me? I'm not even British."

Arthur graced her with one of his rare smiles. "Myrddin trusts you, and I trust Myrddin."

* * * *

Before Marcus arrived, there came a visitor no one had reckoned with.

The unexpected presence came to Yseult one afternoon when the sky was heavy with the clouds and fog that often seemed to cling to these valleys, even in late spring. In order to combat the idleness of her position as guest here at Celliwig, Yseult had taken to visiting the priest Ocrin, helping prepare medicines and heal the sick who sought him out. She had just spotted the holy man in the distance, when she felt a presence coming from the west, someone she hardly dared expect.

Her mother.

The holy man had not yet seen her, and she turned on her heel and hurried back to Gwythyr's hill-fort.

She found Brangwyn in the children's quarters, feeding Judual gruel and laughing at the mess he was making.

"Brangwyn, I think my mother is on her way here."

Brangwyn looked up, an expression of pleased surprise on her face. Yseult felt her cousin open her mind, but Brangwyn soon shook her head. "I don't sense her yet. Your power of knowing is knowing is greater than mine, though."

Brangwyn wiped Judual's face and took him up, and together they sought out Modrun and Ginevra with the news. Before the Erainn party was sighted to the west, chambers had been made ready, and the women of Celliwig were waiting outside the ramparts.

Yseult was so glad to see her mother; while she could not go home, a piece of home was coming to her.

"You called me," her mother said after they had embraced, queen to queen.

Yseult shook her head. "Not intentionally."

Her mother gave a slight smile. "Not intentionally, across an ocean. Quite a feat." The smile disappeared. "Since I landed in Dumnonia, I have heard the story. I understand now."

Arm in arm, they entered the hill-fort of Celliwig, Ginevra leading the way as hostess and the Erainn retinue following behind.

It was some time before they had a chance to be alone; the rituals of hospitality had to be completed, introductions made and wine served and bread broken before they could retire to the room Yseult shared with Brangwyn.

"What are you going to do?" her mother asked.

"Marcus is on his way here even now," Yseult said, staring at the hands clenched in her lap. She looked up. "I will go with him if he'll have me back. He has Kustennin."

Her mother didn't answer for a long time as she gazed intently at her face. "You could return with me to Eriu, you know."

Yseult shook her head. "Not without my son."

The Queen of the Tuatha Dé gave a short nod. "Then I will accompany you."

A huge surge of hope filled her heart, hope that her husband might not yet kill her before she had a chance to see Kustennin again. "What if he will not allow it?"

Her mother gave her a slight smile, tipped to one side. "He will not have a choice. Apparently he needs a lesson in what is at stake here, about alliances and balances of power. And I have a right to see my grandson."

Yseult threw her arms around her mother and hugged her as she hadn't since — no, for as long as she could remember, she had not embraced her mother this way, nor been embraced back so tightly.

* * * *

The two Yseults, Brangwyn, Modrun and Ginevra watched the progress of Marcus's forces up the Cammlann Valley from a protected spot on the ramparts of Celliwig. Beneath the blue and gold banner of the snarling warhound that fluttered and flapped in the stiff spring wind, Marcus had assembled a warband over a hundred strong.

He called a halt out of the range of the archers, and a small group of riders was sent forward up the hill to within shouting distance of the walls. Yseult recognized Andred among them and felt a twist of nausea.

"Marcus Cunomorus demands the return of his wife!" Andred called out. Despite the distance, his voice carried easily, the only competition the chattering of a few spring birds and the jingling of distance harnesses.

"I cannot return a woman to the hands of one who means her harm!" Arthur called back, his voice carrying equally well.

"You have no right to keep her!"

Yseult balled her hands into fists; Andred spoke as if he was claiming her for his own. Brangwyn took her elbow and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"She has sought sanctuary here. We will not return her without a guarantee of safety."

Andred turned his mount and conferred with the two men who had accompanied him. Yseult thought she recognized Guron, the priest from Voliba who had sentenced her to death.

Andred whirled his horse around again to face the ramparts. "What guarantee do you demand?"

"Marcus Cunomorus is to enter Celliwig alone, and we will discuss the terms!"

Andred's derisive laughter echoed in the valley. "And what of the king's own safety?"

"A hostage."

"We must consult with the king!" The three riders pulled their mounts around and galloped back to where Marcus waited a safe distance down the hill. Yseult could see her husband shake his head when first told of Arthur's demands, but then finally he too rode forward with Andred and Guron and a third man she didn't know.

Marcus halted at the front of his small escort. "Send us Yseult's cousin, Brangwyn!"

Yseult clutched Brangwyn's arm. "You don't have to go."

Brangwyn shook her head. "They will do nothing to me if Marcus is in Arthur's power."

She pulled away and moved forward, giving Arthur a nod.

"It will be done!" Arthur shouted down.

A mount was fetched for Brangwyn and several soldiers came forward to protect her during the exchange. The gate opened and the two small parties approached each other, the guards on both sides with their hands demonstratively on the hilts of their swords. Yseult watched with a pang as her cousin was traded for the man she had been forced to marry, so many years ago.

"Come, Yseult," Arthur said, taking her elbow. Her mother, Modrun, and Ginevra followed.

Marcus was waiting in the great hall with his former ally Gwythyr and Arthur's most trusted friends and advisers, Bedwyr, Cai, and Myrddin. The Christian wise man Ocrin was present as well. Marcus stared at her as she approached, his expression impassive, but she felt the wall of hatred in his mind.

For this meeting, she would keep her mind open to him, as painful as it was.

Gwythyr indicated that they were all to take seats at a long council table at the far side of the room.

"What are your terms for the return of my wife?" Marcus demanded when they were seated, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

"What would keep you from murdering her in her sleep?" Arthur shot back. "What were you thinking, Cunomorus? She is Erainn royalty. If you had succeeding in killing her, we would have all the kingdoms of the Laigin harrying our coasts again, and your precious Isca would burn."

"I am the guarantee of that," Yseult the Wise said calmly, and Marcus seemed to notice her for the first time. He stared at the woman who looked so much like her daughter, and Yseult could see as realization dawned in his eyes.

"Yes, Cunomorus," her mother continued. "I am here to ensure the safety of Yseult of Eriu. The Laigin are not to be disregarded, even if they do not hold the seat of the Ard Ri."

Arthur leaned back in the seat of honor Gwythyr had awarded him, despite the fact that his father-in-law was master of Celliwig. "You contracted a marriage you claimed was in the interest of Britain, but when your jealousy got the better of you, the interest of Britain was far from your mind." One side of the Dux Bellorum's mouth quirked so very slightly, anyone who did not know him — or did not have the power of knowing —would have missed it.

"But she is a traitor!"

"Tried by what court?" Myrddin asked.

"Tried by Christian men," Marcus spat out. "Not the likes of you."

Gwythyr's priest Ocrin turned to her, his eyes kind. "Is this true, Lady?"

Yseult wished she did not have to be reminded of the events of those days, but her future with her son was at stake. "It is true that a Christian holy man spoke the sentence. But there was no trial."

"She was caught fornicating with my son," Marcus spat out.

"What treason is there in that?" Bedwyr asked with the hint of a leer in his smile. "Your line has not been betrayed."

Arthur gave his friend a stern look, and Yseult had an inappropriate desire to laugh.

"It is still adultery," Marcus said.

"
Pericope de adultera
," Ocrin muttered, half to himself. "Christian teachings do not demand the death of the adulterers."

Marcus slammed his fist into the palm of his hand. "According to my priests, the holy book calls for stoning."

"But Christ does not," Ocrin insisted.

Myrddin moved around the table to stand between Marcus and Ocrin. "We will achieve nothing with a discussion of religion." He faced her husband. "Even among the Christian wise men who favor death for the crime of adultery, the act must be made public. Were your wife and her lover tied and witnesses called?"