“Do not pretend to misunderstand me.”
She drew a long, unsteady breath. “No. I can’t be part of that. There must be another way.”
“Must there?” He watched her coldly. “A moment ago you were ready to chance anything. But I knew you had a coward’s will.”
“Coward! How do you dare?” She was shaking, her eyes wide with fear, but she spoke defiantly. “I am queen of this land and you speak treason to my face! I have only to say a word to see you die on a stake.”
His hands reached out to her, took hold of her, and drew her roughly into an embrace. He covered her mouth with his until he felt her body weaken. “That is how I dare,” he whispered, his lips moving against her own. “Stop me if you will.”
She collapsed against him. “Aidan, my sweet Aidan, lend me your strength! Why have you stayed away from me so long? Nights are interminable without you! Do what you will with Lancelot, then. Only come back to me.”
His hand slid down her gown and pressed against her little belly. “And what is this? Three months gone, at least. It is Lancelot’s, then, and not mine.”
Elaine gasped. “It was not my fault! Oh, Aidan, I have been so careful! All winter I denied him every time he asked! But one night he took me by surprise—I had no time for preparation and he brooked no excuse. Who would think . . . from a single bedding—”
Aidan smiled. “You’re an excellent breeder of princes, my dear, that is true enough. Well, well. Some things we cannot prevent. He is your husband, after all. You owe him service.”
“Oh, do stop, Aidan! It was an accident.”
Aidan laughed softly and ran a thin finger along the line of her jaw. “You weakened, Elaine. Confess it. You weakened at midwinter. You wanted that brooding fire and that warrior’s body. You and your lust could not wait for me.”
“He forced me, by all that’s holy! I wanted nothing to do with him! I never have!”
“Except when you seduced him.” His hands gripped her hips and pulled her forward hard against his unyielding body. “Do not forget you chose him for a husband.”
“I chose him,” she spat, “to spite Guinevere! Oh, yes, and how I enjoyed watching her turn green with envy as his child grew within my belly! To cause her pain I’d have done a deal worse than bed Sir Lancelot!” She paused, breathing heavily. “Do not imagine, Aidan, that I wanted him twice.”
White teeth gleamed as his lips spread in a slow smile. “What a carnal creature woman is.”
She slipped her arms around him, pressed close, and moved eagerly against him, breathing heat into his face, wildfire raging against his still calm. “I despise him, Aidan! I curse the day he was ever born! He’s never loved me. He abandons me without a backward glance; he doesn’t care what hurts me; he cares only for the woman he cannot have! But you, my fine lover, my hot-blooded priest, you keep my bed warm, you understand what it is like, to be alone. . . .”
He allowed her lips to caress him, he let her roving hands seek beneath his robe, he let her whisper promises, let her rising passion beat helplessly against his unmoving will.
“Curb your desire,” he said finally, taking her wrists and holding them in his hands. “This unbridled lust of yours—it blinds you and endangers us. Control it. Bend it to your will. Be patient. The future can be ours if you have the stomach for it.”
“What future is there for me here but slow decay? He will take my sons from me, one by one, and give them to her!”
“Choose, then, my loving queen, between your husband and your sons. If he lives, you lose them. If he dies, they are yours.”
She looked up at him, all her defiance drained away. “What choice is there in that? My sons are my future. My husband I never wanted.”
“Do you assent, then?”
She swallowed in a dry throat, but said nothing.
He let go of her hands. “I can help you. But the price must be paid. And you must give the order for it.”
“This is not something Arthur could forgive,” she whispered, closing her eyes, pressing her face against the rough cloth of his robe. “He will blame me. He will exile me again.”
“Not if the deed is laid at someone else’s door.”
“Whose?”
“It is better you do not know.”
“Not you! No, no, ahhh, God, Aidan, his men will tear you limb from limb. You are the first person they will suspect.”
“No. Not me. I am not ready to exchange my life for his.”
“Who, then?”
Aidan stroked her belly. “Patience, Elaine. All things come to him who waits.”
Elaine smiled bitterly. “It’s easy for a man to be patient. Change shoes with me, Aidan! You bear this child and put up with the dizziness and the vomit, the swelling and the pain, and see if you can be patient.”
He pushed her gently away. “Sit down on the stool. I will bring you a cup of water.”
He lifted a clay pitcher and poured clear liquid into a glazed cup while Elaine composed herself. “Galahad tells me his cousin is coming to Benoic to visit. Who is this cousin?”
Elaine’s hand trembled as she took the cup. “It’s only Bors of Ganys. Galyn’s invited him. He has a son around Galahad’s age.” She shrugged. “They are nobodies. Hillmen. Uncivilized.”
Aidan raised an eyebrow. “What is he like, this Bors of Ganys? It’s possible he might be useful.”
“How?”
“Aren’t we looking for a scapegoat?”
“Bors?” Elaine began to smile. “His own cousin Bors? It’s all he can do to put two thoughts together!”
“Is he at all ambitious? Has he ever shown signs of envy or of spite?”
Elaine shrugged. “God knows the poor sod ought to be ambitious. He’s been buried in the mountains all his life. His side of the family has had nothing but rocks to rule for generations; he ought to be ready to sell his soul for a scrap of power! But you can’t tell with Lancelot’s kin. What they call family honor means more to them than land or cattle. I told you before, they’re a simple-headed lot.”
Aidan stroked his beard. “Observe him well. Tempt him a little and see how he responds. If you judge him weak, bring him to me. I can bend any willing mind. It’s a risk, but it might be worth it.”
She gazed up at him, blinking in the dappled light. “Is that how you will do it, then? You will weave a spell about him and convince him he is Lancelot’s doom? If it doesn’t work, he’s likely to kill you.”
The golden eyes drilled her. “It always works.”
“Are you able to command any will weaker than your own?”
“Yes.”
She rose and handed him the empty cup, smiling coyly. “Is that what you’ve done to me? Stolen my will?”
He laughed softly. “The test of that will come when you wish to send me away.”
“When I wish to be rid of you, believe me, you will go. Willingly or not.”
He bowed politely. “My lady queen. I am your servant.”
“As long as you know it.”
Aidan regarded her. She stood in a shaft of sunlight with motes dancing like fireflies around her yellow hair. In many ways she was the embodiment of everything he hated. Her firm lips, her fine nose, her small but definite uplifted chin, her smooth hands which had never done a moment’s labor, her upright carriage, the graceful assurance of her movements, all signs of the easy certainty of power—here, in one person, was the essence of his life’s resentment: the unthinking arrogance of the highborn. Yet how could he hate what gave him such wonderful satisfaction to control? In a way it was better than kingship, for she did not even know that she obeyed.
He smiled gently and held out his hand. Immediately she turned to him, her eyes widening, every feature softening as her trembling will felt the touch of his.
“Are we agreed, then?” he said softly.
“About . . . about Lancelot?”
He took her hand and slowly lifted it to his lips, holding her eyes. “About Lancelot’s murder
. Do you assent?”
He pressed his lips into her palm, watching her. She was breathing quickly, her flesh warm, her body calling out to him, beseeching him in the only way she knew. “For God’s sake, Aidan—”
“Choose, Elaine. Yes or no.” He slowly lowered her hand, let it go, and straightened.
Tears shone in her eyes. “Please.”
He said nothing, but gazed at her in silence. Although he did not move, he seemed to grow colder, grayer, more remote, his vibrant presence slowly fading. She reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling it to her breast.
“All right! I submit! Kill him, then, if it pleases you! I order you to do it. Kill him any way you will, only rid me of Lancelot.”
10
PROMISES
"There is one other thing.” “What?” she cried. “What else? For Christ’s sake, Aidan, what else could there be?”
“I must conduct a ceremony for Galahad. You must be there.”
She frowned. “What kind of ceremony?”
Aidan went again to the window, glancing quickly about. “You asked me to give his life a center. I have done that. I have given him God. The ceremony will seal that gift. It will be a sort of dedication.”
“Dedication to what?”
“Think of it as a ritual marking transition to another life. Like a wedding, or funeral rites, or the making of a knight. Something to pass through and achieve. When it is over, he will belong to God and not to Lancelot.”
Elaine considered this. “Surely it’s unnecessary if you are going to deal with Lancelot anyway.”
“It is necessary, whatever happens to Lancelot.”
“All right. All right. When is this ceremony?”
“The closer to the time of Lancelot’s return, the better.”
“Will it do Galahad any harm?”
“On the contrary, my dear. It will do him good. It is the final culmination of all his learning. It is the first step on the path to his destiny. He will remember it all his life. When it is over he will no longer be Lancelot’s son.”
“I don’t see how you can change his parentage. Are you filling his head with gibberish, Aidan? I won’t have that. Whose son will he be, then?”
“God’s.”
Elaine grimaced. “That’s what I meant by gibberish. Don’t fill him with notions of holiness, and turn him into a priest—what use will he be to me then?”
Aidan smiled lightly. “I suppose I should take offense at that.”
Elaine walked up to him. “If you are a priest, you are one I understand. You deal in sin. I’ve known for a long time you want my husband dead. But up to now, as you so delicately put it, I have not been willing to pay that price.” She smiled and ran a slow hand down his robe. “What is this ceremony worth to you, Aidan? How important is it?”
The golden eyes flashed. “Don’t trifle with me. You will regret it.”
“I am paying a price for my son, a heavy one. You can pay a price for him as well.”
Aidan looked down at her, his face expressionless. “What do you want?”
Elaine pressed against him, pulled his head down to hers, and kissed his mouth. “You are the price, priest. I want you. Come to my chamber, yes, into my very chamber, where Lancelot begot this child. Come to me tonight. And every night that I send for you. Do it, and you can have your precious ceremony.”
“Your husband’s brother will kill me if I am found.”
She smiled up at him. “Risk makes it more exciting, don’t you find? Well? What is your answer? Choose now.”
His thin lips spread into a slow smile. “I will pay your price with pleasure.” He spun her around, lifted her in his arms, and strode to his pallet.
“Not here!” She laughed, wrapping an arm about his neck. “Not now! Submit to me! I command you!”
He set her down, his eyes aflame. “You said you liked risk.”
She wriggled out of his arms and straightened her gown. “I like risking your future, Aidan, not my own. I won’t risk Galahad finding us. It’s not the kind of thing he would forgive.”
“No,” Aidan said coolly. “He knows all the commandments.”
“My son will be a great knight and a strong king. Fill him with your rage, if you will; just don’t fill him with aspirations to holiness. You will take the life out of him.”
Aidan spoke slowly. “Your son is made of finer stuff than you imagine. He’s bright, sharp metal that will, with time, be forged into a cutting blade. But we must both take care. It’s a weapon that can turn in the hand.”
“Not if you manage it right,” she replied impatiently. “Come, Aidan, you know perfectly well what I require of you. The Lady said he will live forever in glory. If that is so, I will live in glory with him. Make it happen. And a hundred years from now no one will remember Lancelot’s name.” She bent to retrieve her shawl. “And you’d better hurry. Galyn’s beginning to sniff something in the air. He has me watched and guarded, you know, now that I carry Lancelot’s precious seed.” She paused. “That reminds me. You’ve often told me how skilled you are with herbs. . . .” Her hands touched the soft curve of her belly. “I need your help.”
“If it’s death you want, go to a Druid. I don’t kill children.”
“Neither do I!” Elaine retorted. “Who spoke of death? Cure me of my illness, priest, not my child. Children are a woman’s tools to power in this warrior’s world. I may not bear this one willingly, God knows, but I’ll bear him.” She drew a deep breath. “I only wanted something for my sickness.”
Aidan bowed politely. “It has already been done.”
Elaine stopped, startled. “What do you mean?”
“How do you feel?”
A look of amazement crossed her face. “I do feel better.”
Aidan gestured toward the clay pitcher. “I had heard the rumor, you see. I brewed the medicine this morning.” He withdrew from his robe a small, clay vial stoppered with cork. “Take some with you now, for tomorrow. I will send it with Galahad in future.”
Elaine stared at him. Spots of color flamed her cheeks and her nostrils flared. “Don’t ever do that again! Do not dare. Don’t ever give me anything without telling me first. Or Galahad. Promise it. Swear it.”
Aidan’s lips twisted in a smile. “Trust me, Elaine.”
“I do not! Promise!”
He bowed obediently. “Very well. I promise.”
Elaine grabbed the vial and strode out of the hut. Aidan stood at the window and watched her go.
“My proud, highborn beauty,” he said softly. “How your fury becomes you! Have I underestimated you? I think not. If only your son were made of your clay. Then would I have a vessel I could shape to my will as easily as drawing breath! But he is already iron, young as he is.” He turned and walked to a shelf where several small clay jars stood in a neat row. With a long, bony finger he touched them, one by one. “How shall I deal with Galahad? How shall I shape that blade to my hand? Which of these will weaken him, make him pliant, prepare him to accept the deed he must do?” Then, recalling the day when Galahad had thrown himself into the cold lake waters in an attempt to swim ashore because Aidan had refused to let him bring his puppy to the island, Aidan mused, “Which of these will touch the spring of revolt inside him? Which will turn that streak of mindless passion into blood lust?”
He turned and looked around the empty hut in open contempt. “After all I have endured, I will not be thwarted. Bors may serve as a smoke screen, but it will be Galahad who frees my soul from Hell.” He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. “I will have my revenge upon Lancelot, and it will lie sweet upon my soul. A wife for a wife, and a son for a son.” He sank to his knees, clasping his hands before his face. “Let the son destroy the father, as the father destroyed my son. Let justice be done, and the blood of my enemy sprinkled upon the ground beneath my feet. All the days of my vengeance shall be accomplished, and I shall go back to my village with a quiet heart. I shall be a miller again.”
Wh
en the queen came down the path Galahad was lying on the barge, trailing a finger through the green-black water while dragonflies hovered around his head.
“Renna! Asleep again! Why do I retain you, I wonder, when you cannot keep your eyes open more than half the day? Get up and take Galahad back before he’s missed.” Galahad looked up. His face was swollen and a dark ring was forming around his eye. “What’s this?” Elaine cried. “What’s been going on? Galahad, who attacked you?”
She looked at once toward Brith, who stood sullenly by the rowboat. His tunic was torn and a puddle of crusted blood darkened one nostril. “You, Brith! Did you dare to strike my son?”
“No,” Galahad cut in. “I fell down. But look!” He pointed to the distant shore where three horsemen waited. One sat a liver chestnut with a brilliant blaze. “Uncle Galyn.”
Her lips thinned. “So he’s found us at last. It took him long enough.”
Brith rowed them back across the lake and Elaine made a pretty curtsy to Galyn on the beach. “My lord Galahantyn.”
“So. This is where you have been bringing the boy.”
She smiled sweetly. “How clever of you to have discovered it, my lord. After all these weeks.”
Galyn ignored the provocation. “I suppose that’s where the charlatan is hiding out?” He jerked his head toward the island.
“Black Lake is a sacred precinct,” Elaine said calmly, “as you know well. It has never been in the king’s domain, even when Ban of Benoic ruled Lanascol and your sweet brother came here to spend his time in ways better not mentioned in front of children.”
“That is not what I asked you.”
“If Father Aidan chooses to reside there because he is banned from the town, it is his right to do so. There is not a thing you can do about it.”
Galyn’s features hardened. “No. He can stay there if he wills. But I can prevent the boy from visiting. Lancelot gave orders he was not to traffic with him. You knew that.”
“I am his mother.” The queen’s voice sharpened. “Surely I have a right to educate my son as I see fit, at least until his war training begins.” Elaine dropped her eyes suddenly and softened her tone. “Lancelot never took the time to know the man. And you, Galyn, admit that you don’t know him, either. What is there against him, after all?”
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