“Yes, but—”
“Then your rightful place is here. Sit,” Cai growled.
His surly tone was oddly reassuring. Mair sat on the grass and crossed her legs. She felt rather small beside Cai, who was larger in all dimensions than any man beside Idris. Arthur was taller than Cai—just—but Cai was wider. He was also bigger through the shoulders, chest and neck, giving him the legendary strength men spoke of in admiration.
Mair had watched Cai in battle. What he lacked in technique—which was not much and grew less every year—he made up with overwhelming strength, hacking down enemies despite their shields, their blades and their armor.
“Arthur, you were speaking about the north,” Gaheris reminded the king, and passed a sack of wine on to Cai.
Arthur nodded. “With Idris controlling Strathclyde, which includes Galleva, it will solidify the north if you take Lothian under your wing and Agravaine controls Rheged until Owain is of age.”
Gaheris looked grim. “You are anticipating success in the north, then?”
Arthur smiled. “There is no point in anticipating defeat. Defeat is a disaster from which we cannot recover.”
Mair shivered, both at the idea of Saxons pouring down from the north with Lot at their head, and also at the indifferent way Gaheris spoke of success—for victory in the north would mean the death of his father.
“You would not want Gawain in Rheged until Urien’s boy is old enough, Arthur?” King Mark growled.
“Agravaine is restless,” Arthur said. “He feels the sting of being a younger brother of greater warriors. I would give him a taste of responsibility, with Gaheris to watch over him. Besides, I need Gawain here. He fortifies the hearts of anyone fighting with him.”
It was an apt observation. Gawain always seemed cheerful when he fought and he became more lighthearted, the greater the enemy numbers became.
“It is likely my mother will petition to come south and join the court,” Gaheris pointed out. “As Morgan is here, already.”
It was only because she was sitting beside him that Mair noticed Merlin’s sudden stillness.
Arthur’s gaze was upon the fire. “No,” he said, his tone distant. “Morguase cannot join the court. I will not allow it.”
Gaheris nodded. “As you will, Arthur.” His tone was compliant. “We will ensure she remains in Lothian.”
“Speaking of Morgan,” Leodegrance said, at the far other side of the fire from Arthur, “will someone explain what in Mithras’ name happened in Amesbury? It was hushed up and hurried away, and I still can’t get the rights of it in my head. Accolon murdered Urien? Accolon?”
“Lady Mair was there,” Merlin said. “She saw it.”
Everyone in the circle looked at her. Mair jumped and swallowed. “I didn’t see it happen,” she said. “I only saw it…Accolon…when he was already dead. Morgan did not deny killing him. She told Idris Accolon had killed Urien, that he had done it for her.” Mair recalled the glimpse she had caught of a small room beyond a half-closed door, a still body and blood. Morgan’s frantic expression as she whispered to Idris.
“They were lovers, ‘tis said,” Hector said softly. He glanced at Arthur.
Arthur rested his chin on his knee, staring at the fire. “If they were, I do not find it a stretch of the imagination that my sister talked Accolon into murdering her husband for her. She and Morguase are a pair. Morgan, though, claims Accolon hurt her and she was defending herself. The bruises on her face were real enough. And she is now an essential member of the court. We all know someone whose life she has saved in the surgery, or with her herbs and ointments, when they’ve fallen sick. I will not discard her because of a suspicion.”
“I believe Lady Mair has something to add to that, Arthur,” Merlin said.
Mair’s middle leapt again. How had he known she was biting her tongue, on the verge of speaking?
Arthur looked at her. Cai thrust the wine skin toward her and Mair took it with shaking fingers. “Not that I am any judge at all,” Mair said, her voice weak. She cleared her throat. “I have had some dealings with Morgan—I have watched her work. I believe Morgan wants to redeem herself. She resents being called le Fey the way the Lesser Britain houses do.”
“She does,” Merlin agreed.
“By revealing Accolon’s actions, she risked exposing her part in it…if she did play a part in it,” Mair added. “She would only do so because she wanted to distance herself from Accolon. If I am right, and she does want to rid herself of her past, then she will become quite monk-like and saintly. If I am wrong, she will move onto someone far more powerful and useful, now Accolon is conveniently out of the way.”
Everyone stared at her.
Mair drank quickly, her heart thudding.
Merlin laughed. “And there is your dilemma in a nutshell, Arthur.”
“Better to kill her now,” Cai growled. “Save ourselves the trouble she’ll stir up later.”
Arthur shook his head. “She is my sister, Cai.” His voice was low.
“Besides,” Merlin added, “if you want everyone to uphold your new laws, then you must abide by them, too, Arthur. Murder, in cold blood, cannot be condoned, no matter who wields the blade.”
“It would be execution, not murder,” Cai corrected.
“Without proof of her crimes, it would be murder, pure and simple,” Arthur said. “As Mair said, Morgan may well be trying to redeem herself and Accolon really did attack her. We would kill a woman for defending herself?”
Cai looked troubled. He rubbed the back of his head. “I only know I feel about Morgan as I do when a black cat crosses my path.”
Soft chuckles sounded around the circle. More than one man made a sign against evil.
Arthur stirred. “We will put the question of Morgan aside for now and move on to more pleasant matters. Mark?”
King Mark nodded. “Yes, I agree with Bedivere.”
“Lucan?” Arthur added.
“I, too,” Lucan said.
“Then it is settled,” Arthur said. “As over king of Corneus, the duty is yours, Mark.”
Mark got to his feet with another groan. He twisted and dug his fingers into his lower back, then straightened.
“Get up,” Merlin murmured to Mair, taking the wine skin from her hands.
She looked at him, startled.
“Up, up,” he said, his hand under her elbow.
Mair got to her feet. She and King Mark were the only two standing in the circle.
Mark rested his hand on his sword. “Mair of Corneus, it has been decided by the Council of Companions of the High King of Britain, and three generations of the Corneus great family, that you are the most apt and suitable successor to Bedrawd, Duke of Corneus.”
Mair gasped. It was a soft sound, lost beneath the thrumming of the earth, as the men in the circle slapped the ground in agreement.
Mark’s gaze was steady. “If you accept this appointment, you will be swearing allegiance to me and through me, to the High King of Britain. You will serve in whatever way we call upon you, including the demand for men at arms, and your services as a warrior. You are also to protect the Corneus lands and the people who look to the Duke of Corneus for wisdom, leadership and guidance. Do you accept the responsibilities?”
Mair glanced at Bedivere. He gave her a small smile and a nod. Lucan grinned.
Mair shifted her gaze back to King Mark. A high singing note blanketed all thought except one: that Arthur needed Bedivere and Lucan. In this way, Mair would be serving Arthur, still.
“I accept,” she told Mark.
Mark nodded. “Then, before all these reprobate witnesses—”
Everyone laughed or cried out in protest. Mark held up his hand. “In front of these witnesses, including the High King of Britain, I confirm you are Duke—” He halted and frowned. “No,” he said. “You are the Lady of Corneus, and a member of the High King’s Council, and his to command.”
Cai thrust a different wine flask into her
hands, as everyone in the circle pummeled the ground once more.
Bedivere got to his feet, crossed the circle and kissed her cheek. “There is no one more suited to this than you, Lady Corneus,” he told her. “Not even me.”
Mair felt in her bones Bedivere was right. This was her place. This was what she was meant to be.
With that thought came heartache.
This was the place which Rawn feared she would find, the place which excluded him.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Mair, Lady Corneus. Let me walk you back to your campfire,” King Mark said, as he moved through the dispersing circle of companions. The men wended their way back to their own fires and bed rolls.
Mair waited politely for Mark to step alongside her. “You might have warned me,” she chided him, as they walked together.
“As the matter was not decided until you so neatly analyzed Arthur’s dilemma over his sister for him, it would have been premature to say anything at all.” Mark’s tone was stiff. Then he chuckled. “And I enjoyed seeing the astonishment on your face. I think you are the only one in Arthur’s host who didn’t see what has been obvious to all of us for weeks now.”
“That isn’t a promising start for a leader,” she said.
Mark laughed. “You are still the perfect warrior at the core, aren’t you? Leadership is all about making mistakes and learning from them. The faster you make those mistakes, the more quickly you will learn, so when it counts, you will make the right decisions.”
“If I have so much to learn, then you should have chosen someone else,” she said stiffly.
“We didn’t really choose at all, you know,” Mark said, his rough voice low.
“You didn’t?”
“The people of Corneus made our decision for us. The men followed you into battle, Mair. There is no greater proof of a leader than that.”
“Oh.” She would have to think about that some more.
“You must find yourself a good second,” Mark added. “From one leader to another, a second you can trust shifts the work from impossible to barely manageable.”
Mair shook her head. “There is no one in the Corneus contingent even close to suitable. Not even Eurig, if he was still alive.”
“Who said you must choose from the Corneus contingent?” Mark asked.
Mair’s insides jumped. She looked at him, her eyes narrowing.
Mark did not meet her gaze. “I was sitting only two places away from Arthur at the coronation feast. I swear I heard Merlin say that if you need help with the execution of your decisions, you are to call upon whom you must.”
Mair swallowed. “I see what you are trying to do, King Mark, and I appreciate it. Only, to force his hand in that way…he would resent it. Do you see?”
“I only see a man who loves so much he will live without her, so she can do what she must.”
Mair halted. “But…he is Brocéliande. He is Arthur’s man.”
Mark turned back to face her. He seemed calm enough. “Gawain and Lancelot ride with Pellinore and Idris. The men from a dozen other houses swell their ranks. Corneus warriors ride with them because they are the best people for that task.”
“I thought…was that not just for the battle in the north?”
Mark sighed and looked into the night, his focus on some far distant thing. “You have been a member of the Council for three heart beats, so you have not heard Merlin and Arthur and even Lancelot, talk about the future of Britain. They have a way of seeing things that is prophetic. They convinced me that if Britain is to survive, if we are to hold the Saxons back, we must stop thinking in terms of tribes and clans and kingdoms.”
“We do all fight together, for Arthur,” she pointed out.
“We fight as tribes,” Mark ground out. “We are united for that single moment of battle, then we return to our bickering and squabbles and factions. We must learn to think beyond our own borders, Mair. You are one of the next generation of leaders. You must find a way to make Britain stand united.”
Then he clicked his tongue. “Ah, listen to me! Too much wine, too much victory, and I turn into a philosopher. There is your fire, Mair. I will bid you good night.”
He whirled and strode away, leaving Mair facing the Corneus camp, and her empty bed roll. Iwan and Nye and the others were already asleep, the fire dying.
Mair shivered and wrapped her arms around herself.
She could not possibly sleep. Not now. It wasn’t the wine she had drunk, or the raw relief of victory.
It was hope.
THERE WAS NO SURGERY BUILDING. There wasn’t even a tent. No line of old, empty barrels with the weeds growing between them marked the back of it.
Instead, long rows of wounded laid on sheets and sometimes on the grass itself. Physicians and those good at healing, and women who were better at stitching wounds moved among them, with torches held over them while they worked.
Mair looked at the bare stretch of grass between the last row of wounded and the nearest campfires, which were far enough away to be out of ear-shot of groans and moans of wounded men.
The stretch of grass was empty. She had been foolish to think Rawn would be here. She had given him no reason to come here.
Mair turned to leave and took two steps, then halted. She couldn’t make herself take another step. To do so would end her hope.
Because there was nothing else she could do, Mair sat on the grass. She was nearly in the center of the space between the surgery and the nearest campfires, and in no one’s way.
She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them and considered her foolishness. How many times had Rawn tried to bridge the divide between them? How many times had he returned, with little more than hope to sustain him, and she had turned him away again?
Yet he had never disputed her belief that they could not be together! Not once!
“He never asked,” Mair breathed into her knees.
The long dark shape in front of the nearest fire shifted. The man turned over. He sat up, throwing the leather sheet off.
Rawn. Mair would know his silhouette anywhere.
He got to his feet and moved toward her, still just a shape in the dark. Only a new moon lit the space, and the firelight he had left behind.
Mair drew in a breath as Rawn settled on the grass beside her. He was warm, and solid.
“You came,” he said softly. “And he laughed when I said you would.”
“Why are you there, at that campfire?” Mair breathed. “That section is…” She drew in her breath, sharp and clear. “Kernow’s,” she whispered. “Mark knew.”
“Yes, it is the Kernow camp,” Rawn admitted. “They’ve put up with me sleeping on the edge of it, right there.” He paused. “I couldn’t stay away,” he admitted. “Even though you weren’t there, it still seemed as though you were.”
Mair closed her eyes. She breathed, until she thought she could safely speak. “You never asked me.” Her voice wobbled, anyway. She didn’t care. Not now.
“Asked you?”
Mair dropped her arms, and shifted, so she sat on her heels, looking at him. “You never asked me to stay, to be with you. You never asked.”
“Of course I did not,” Rawn breathed. “I watched Alun ask, year after year, and you resisted him at every turn. The only way I could stay in your life was if I didn’t ask, if I did not try to pull you away from Corneus and your work for Arthur.”
If Britain is to survive, we must stop thinking in terms of tribes and clans and kingdoms.
“Then I will ask you,” Mair said quickly, before her courage failed her. “I have been made Duke of Corneus. The Lady of Corneus, I mean, and—”
“You have?” Rawn turned to her. “Mair, that is…” He laughed. “It is fitting,” he said.
“I am still to become accustomed to the idea,” she admitted. “King Mark told me I should find a second in command, a senior officer I can trust, who will work beside me, and…” She trailed off, her courag
e failing her now she was on the brink of asking.
Rawn grew still. “Mark told you that?”
“Yes and I know why—especially now I know you’ve been sleeping at the edges of the Kernow camp. It is insufferable of him to interfere in this way, but he has a good point about seconds and…” Again, she couldn’t bring herself to ask the question. “Oh, this is impossible!” she breathed. “Is this why you never asked, Rawn? I can’t bring myself to say the words, because I am so afraid the answer will not be what I want.”
“What is it you want?” Rawn asked. His voice was remote, which scared her even more.
“You. I want you.” Mair let out her breath. She had spoken the words. Now they were out there. “I have no right to ask you to give up what you want, not when you have worked so hard to let me have what I want. Only, that’s the problem. We both want things which have nothing in common. But what if we changed that? What if we just want each other, no matter what way it worked out? Then I can serve Arthur by being the Lady and you could serve him by helping me. When he puts out a general call, we would both fight for him, as we’ve always wanted. For you, it would be the same as serving as Alun’s second, only you would come and go from Corneus instead of Brocéliande…” She swallowed. “Please say something,” she begged.
Instead, he kissed her.
Mair gasped against his lips as he pulled her closer and closer still. Somehow, they were on their knees, their bodies tight against each other. Rawn’s lips pressed against her cheeks, her chin, her eyes, even her nose, then he captured her mouth with his once more.
When Rawn released her, she swayed, and he caught her back up against him. “Ask your question.” His voice rumbled against her chest.
“Come with me to Corneus. Be the love of my life first, and my commander second. Live with me for all our days to come.” She drew a breath. “Please.”
Rawn touched her lips with his. “Yes,” he breathed.
Chapter Twenty-Four
One month later.
When Rawn halted his stallion to stare out across the flat land, Mair wheeled back and fell in beside him. The rest of the troops showed no sign of impatience, when they had every right to.
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