Guinevere (30 page)

The rest of the journey took longer than anticipated, because neither parent wanted to be more than a hand’s reach away from their son. Guinevere happily traded places and rode behind her father, so that she could hug him and explain everything that had happened. It was well that Guenlian’s horse knew how to find its own way home, for she gave it little guidance. It was late afternoon before they were spotted by the guard, and as they rode in the entire household was at the gate, cheering.

“God Almighty!” Pincerna exclaimed. “It’s Lord Mark!”

“Can’t be, you old fool,” someone muttered, then, “I’m damned if you aren’t right!”

There was silence, as everyone tried to comprehend this miracle, and then the cheering became hysterical. Mark lifted his head and looked at them. He tried to pick out faces, to find one that meant something to him. But they were just faces, blurred and anonymous. The glow in the morning that for a time had convinced him it could be the same again had meanwhile vanished. He felt a fool to have believed that he could go home and be cosseted by his family and spoiled by the servants, and that the last few years would melt into nightmare, something misty and unreal. But with the first sight of the fields and brooks, the memory came back to him.

“Matthew and John aren’t here,” he thought with a jolt. “I am the only one left. Their ghosts will hound me, taunt me, every second I stay.”

As soon as he rode into the courtyard, Arthur felt a return of the sense of inferiority he had known before as he changed from his role of leader to that of guest. He could tell that this was Guinevere’s natural setting. As she dismounted and casually handed the reins to the stableman, Arthur noticed Gawain standing, leaning on the doorway. He grinned at Guinevere, who ran to him laughing and let him swing her around as he hugged her.

“I knew it was your idea!” she cried. “And I’m so glad that the days are getting longer so that you are awake to greet me! You won’t believe this, but we found my brother, Mark. He’s alive after all! Isn’t that wonderful?” and she hugged him again.

Arthur watched them in amazement. How could he treat her so casually? There he stood, one arm across her shoulder, not even looking at her, but chatting with some of the other rescuers. He had said she was like a sister, but a thought struck him with a suddenness that made him sick: She must be more than that. She must already be engaged to him. They looked well together, he had to admit. Suddenly all his heroics seemed a little flat. He looked around for Merlin.

Merlin wasn’t far. He had been watching Arthur as he observed Gawain and Guinevere and had guessed what Arthur was thinking. He would certainly do nothing to disabuse Arthur of the idea. Merlin had not really looked at Guinevere for some time. He knew she had grown but was startled and worried by how mature her beauty was. He had hoped somehow that it would fade as she grew older. He shook his head. It was clear from one sight of her that she was as naive as ever. It would never do to let that one around his Arthur too much. She didn’t belong. This idiocy of his about a marriage could only mean trouble.

Mark was hurried off to his old room and his own clothes were pulled from cedar chests for him to change into. Guenlian hated to have him out of her sight for an instant but resigned herself to it, only making him promise to bathe
quickly
, change, and come to her room before eating.

It was hard to bathe quickly with three years of filth to be scrubbed from one’s body, but Mark dressed as fast as possible and, his heart constricting at the thought of having to face everyone, to explain, to retell all the horror, he left his room.

He nearly ran into Rhianna. She stepped back from him with a little gasp, then gave him her hand. The other hand was holding a small girlchild who stared at him with wide, familiar eyes.

It took Mark a moment to remember who she was. Then he gave the child a searching look, which caused her to hide her face in her mother’s skirts. Then he held Rhianna’s hand very gently. There was something about her that made people want to be gentle.

“I remember now. When Matthew came back from his leave, just before . . . He told me then. He said, ‘I have given Rhianna Grandmother’s ring. I never thought I would give it to anyone.’ He told us to take care of you, if . . . anything happened. But he was happier then than I had ever seen him.”

Rhianna smiled at him, a smile full of compassion and tenderness.

“Thank you,” she said. “I’m glad you’ve come home.”

They went together to Guenlian’s sitting room, where, to Mark’s relief, only a few people were gathered. After a few hearty slaps on the back and comments of pleasure on his return, Mark was even more relieved to know that no one planned on questioning him. Their minds were taken up by a message that had just come to Cador from Sidra. Guenlian only insisted that Mark sit on the same cushions with her so that she could have him always close enough to touch, should she need reassurance that he was truly alive.

Mark didn’t pay any attention at first. He was back in the mire of his own misery. Then a name caught him by surprise and jolted him to awareness.

“Alswytha, what about her?”

“Oh, I’m sorry dear,” Guenlian smoothed her hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean to remind you of them. Sidra has just sent us a note. It seems that since Aelle broke his word and attacked us again, not to mention kidnapping your sister, it is now necessary that some sort of decision be made about what to do with this girl we have as hostage.”

“Don’t worry, son,” Leodegrance patted his shoulder. “It’s nothing to do with you. I suppose I must go to the council to keep them from being too vengeful.”

“What do you mean?” Mark’s voice was hard, but his father didn’t notice.

“Well, now that the vow is broken, her life is certainly forfeit. I imagine we will have to execute her, but I will do my best to see that it is as painless as possible and that she isn’t tortured first.”

“What!” Guinevere and Mark spoke at once, but Mark’s voice was louder.

“How can you talk so calmly of murdering her?”

Leodegrance tried to pacify him. “I don’t want you to bother about such things on your first night home. It is unfortunate that this happened now. I will go with Cador and do what I can for the girl. You must not let yourself be concerned.”

Mark gazed around the room as if everyone had suddenly gone mad. Arthur squirmed uncomfortably. Merlin and Cador just looked worried about his state. Guinevere was the only one who seemed as horrified as he was.

“I am going with you,” he stated.

There was no arguing with him, and, in the end, Guenlian and Guinevere insisted that they must go, too. Arthur and Merlin were already required to attend the council or trial, whichever it was to be. And, as the matter was serious and Mark refused to wait, they agreed to leave the next morning.

That night, Mark lay in his own bed for the first time in more than three years. He was clean and well fed. He was warm and no man’s property. He was all the things he had never thought he would be again, but he could not sleep. Each time he drifted toward slumber, he felt again cool hands stroking his burning face.

Chapter Sixteen

Sidra met them in the courtyard. “I’m glad you came so quickly,” she told them, kissing her husband without missing a word. “Some of the men were for starting without you, not knowing if Guinevere could be recovered. They said that you would be too busy with her to bother about this and it wouldn’t matter anyway whether she were safe or not, as the issue was the broken truce. Come in at once, never mind the horses. Your man can take care of them.”

She gestured at Mark, who was again wrapped in his ragged cloak. He began gathering up the reins. Guenlian started to expostulate, but Leodegrance stopped her.

“Not now. We can explain later.” His expression reminded her that it might be better if Mark were not present for the debate of the council.

“Guinevere, my dear,” Sidra embraced her fondly. “I’m so glad that you are all right! I was worried until I heard of Gawain’s plan and that Arthur was going to get you. Then I knew you would be back soon. Arthur hasn’t failed at anything yet.”

She led them all into the castle. It was late in the morning, two days after they had left the villa. Even with the spring sunshine outside it was dark within and chilly. The fire on the enormous hearth did little to dispel the gloom. It took some time for their eyes to adjust. First they only made out the forms of men, seated in a semicircle: the tribunal awaiting the prisoner. Then Cador clenched his fists and strode to the man seated at the center.

“How is it, Colum, that you begin this meeting without us? And why are you seated in the place of honor? Are you the Dux Bellorum now, the leader of the armies of Britain? Under what authority do you convene this meeting without my permission?”

Cador was impressively angry, but Colum was too old and too powerful in his own right to be cowed, although he did relinquish the chair.

“This matter could not await your arrival, since we had no idea when that would be. It is a clear case of oath breaking, and the only question before us is how the girl should be punished so that her father and the other Saxon scum will not so trifle with us again. As the largest landholder present, I naturally presided. Now, however, I am happy to turn the matter over to you.”

He moved to another chair with ponderous dignity.

Cador watched until he had settled himself. “Thank you, my Lord Colum. Normally, I would take the seat of honor in my own home, but today I feel that it is time to give it up to someone else, to a man who has earned it and who shall soon have the final decision in more cases than this. Arthur, the time is coming when this seat will be more familiar to you than the back of your warhorse is now. I would be honored if your rule of Britain would start here.”

He stood behind the chair, waiting for Arthur to take his place.

Arthur swallowed hard. His eyes darted about the room in panic. He realized at once that the honor was barbed. He did not want to be the one to sentence Alswytha to death. Merlin moved within his range of sight and, almost imperceptibly, the older man nodded. With a sinking heart, Arthur sat in the seat of judgment.

Cador spoke again, in more normal tones. “My wife tells me that the girl has been sent for. Where is she?”

“I believe she wished to be formally dressed when she faced you,” Sidra explained. “It seemed only fair. She should be down soon. Guinevere’s maid, Risa, is with her.”

Gawain sat at the other end of the hall in one of the many niches around the walls. It suddenly occurred to him that with everyone down here it would be a perfect time for him to slip upstairs with Risa. After all, no one had asked him to take part in this and for that he was grateful. It was not the sort of thing he enjoyed. So there was no reason why he shouldn’t use the time for something better. He could almost feel Risa under him already. Then he saw them come into the hall. Risa was leading Alswytha gently, giving her an arm to lean on. When he caught the look of terror and despair on the Saxon girl’s face, his desire for Risa crumpled.

Risa stayed next to Alswytha until they reached the center of the hall. A narrow strip of sunlight lay across the floor, having made its way through one of the lookout slits high overhead. Risa placed Alswytha so that the light shone directly on her. Then she gave the girl’s hand a sympathetic squeeze and came over to the recess where Gawain watched. She sat next to him and took his hand. She gave him no other greeting.

Alswytha had dressed herself in her finest clothes. The swan cape came past her waist, and the light reflected off each of her golden ornaments. She made no attempt to soften her Saxon appearance, but faced her judges proudly.

“Merlin, speak to her,” Arthur commanded. “Tell her what has happened and why she is before us now.”

“I’m sure she already knows,” Merlin answered, but he spoke a few words to her anyway. She nodded understanding.

Arthur sighed. He longed for a sword in his hands and a horde of bloodthirsty invaders to attack.

“The question before us is, what shall be done about this clear breach of faith and violation of an oath? This woman is bond for the good conduct of her father, Aelle. I have seen with my own eyes that Aelle has crossed into our territory, he has taken in Ecgfrith, who was also to be bond for him. And, worst of all, he kidnapped the Lady Guinevere, and, in doing so, has killed a number of good men who might one day have been leaders of our land. How can we ensure that this will not happen again?”

There was a silence. Then Leodegrance spoke up, his voice sorrowful. “Her life is forfeit now. There is no other way. We can only do it as mercifully as possible.”

“Here now,” another lord interrupted. “What will that gain us? Aelle doesn’t care what happens to her or he wouldn’t have left her here. I say we send her back to him alive, but keep a few mementos for ourselves, her nose, say, or some fingers. Then he would know we mean business.”

There was a murmur of approval for this. Guinevere listened in growing horror. Why didn’t her father answer this? What was wrong with him?

Lord Stator of the south Welsh spoke now. “It seems more merciful to give her her life in exchange for a nose. And certainly, the knowledge that their children would be returned to them maimed would make those Saxons think again before turning them over to us on false promises. There would be no more broken vows if they knew their daughters would be returned to them in such a fashion.”

How could they discuss this horrible thing so calmly, Guinevere wondered. Some of the lords were leaning back in their chairs, picking their teeth with their knives, and grinning at poor Alswytha. For a moment she forgot that Alswytha was Saxon, heathen and an enemy. She hated all those men with their ugly, leering faces. She almost hated her father for saying nothing to stop them. Only Arthur sat stiffly, his back not resting against his chair. His face showed nothing of his thoughts. Guinevere noticed that Merlin and her parents were not paying attention to Alswytha or to the other men. They were watching Arthur.