I had not been sitting very long when there came a knock at the door. I called out “Come in,” and checked that I had a knife handy. But it was only Eivlin.
She looked about the room with some interest, then came and stood over me, hands on her hips. “Truly, I hope the other man is worse off than you,” she said.
I glared and wiped my mouth. I supposed that my lip must be swollen, and there, it was bleeding. “What do you want?” I asked her.
“Well, as though you had not promised to help me with the thatch today! ‘What do you want?’ he says, bold as a bad dealer.”
“I went to your house, and your lady turned me out. I don’t think she will want many people around today.”
Eivlin took her hands from her hips and crossed them before her. “Perhaps she did,” she said in a different tone, then, “indeed, I was working in the kitchen this morning like a common drudge. But she is finished now, and gone out hawking with Maelgwn Gwynedd. I’d be glad of your help, Rhys.”
“Let the thatch wait. I must speak to my lord about a matter.”
“A matter of import?” she began lightly, and I cut her off: “Yes, a matter of great urgency.”
She stood staring at me a moment, then suddenly sat down beside me and took my head in her hands. “Och ai, you’ve had a blow here,” she said, touching the back of my head very gently. She looked about, saw the kettle of once-boiled water, and picked it up; then took a kerchief from her pocket and soaked it. “Let me bind it up for you.”
I grunted, but let her. She did it deftly and gently. “Now, I wonder who he was fighting,” she said. “Saidi ap Sugyn?”
I had to smile at that. “Sadly, no. More sadly, it was not a fight. It was nearly a beating.”
She hissed a little between her teeth. “Not your lord? Is that why you must speak to him?”
“Not my lord, no, of course not Gwalchmai. Another warrior.”
“May they be damned, the lot of them, for their swords and heavy hands,” said Eivlin, bitterly and without a trace of mockery. I looked at her sharply.
“Do not be so easy with your damnings. Yffern is a heavy place to send a person ill-advisedly, and some do not deserve any such thing.”
“May they be damned nonetheless.” Eivlin dropped her hands to her lap and looked at me coldly. “They’ve no thought for any but themselves and what pleasures them.”
“My lord is different,” I said. “And I know others that are good enough men.”
She shrugged and sighed, “I have never known them, then.”
I caught her wrist to get her attention and asked, “What of Medraut, my lord’s brother?”
“Him!” she said, then stopped abruptly, her face closing. “Well, as you say, there is your lord’s brother Medraut.” She stood, pulling away, and I let go her hand. “So you are waiting for your lord here,” she said, her back still turned to me. I nodded, realized she couldn’t see me, and said, “Yes.”
“Well, do you expect him soon?”
There was the problem: I didn’t. “He will be back before nightfall, if not before twilight.”
“And you would not be caring that he is at Medraut’s now?”
“He is? What is he doing there?” I jumped to my feet, and my head twinged. Eivlin turned and caught my arm as I winced.
“Do not be touching that! The lord Gwalchmai is talking to the lord Ronan mac Suibhne, one of Lot’s warriors, about some political matter. Ronan is a member of the royal clan, and so is staying with Medraut. It seems that your lord knew him before ever he came to Britain, and hopes to learn something of him now, since Medraut is not there.”
“Oh,” I said, “That is all. Well, I will go and see him there, then—and maybe I will see how much thatching needs to be done, afterwards.”
“Don’t do any thatching with that head,” advised Eivlin. “You’ve a fine knock on the back of it, and thatching will make you dizzy.”
We set off across the stronghold, Eivlin walking beside me and chattering about the kitchens and the fools there. She made me laugh, which made my head ache, but I had to laugh even when it ached. When we finally reached the house, low and sprawling against the wall of the stronghold, rotten-thatched, Eivlin gave, a little curtsey and opened the door, “Do you go in first, since you have the headache,” she said.
I smiled at her, liking her a great deal, and stepped inside.
I heard only one soft movement from behind the door, and then, before I had time to turn my head, the world splintered in pain, went first red, then dark as I fell under the blow from the man behind the door.
***
I am not sure when I woke up. It could not have been too long, an hour at the most: but it does not make much difference, as I promptly fainted again when there was some jolt. My head hurt horribly, and I was sick to my stomach as well, and I heartily wished that the world would go black again and leave me alone. Instead, it swam in and out of my awareness as though I were on that thrice-damned ferry, come from Camlann to Caer Gwent and Degannwy. I could hear voices which my brain first understood and then didn’t, and there was a good deal too much motion. When I opened my eyes, I could see nothing.
But after what seemed a long time, the jolting stopped, was succeeded by a few jerks, and then I felt hands on my shoulders dragging me up. The dark was replaced by light, and I found myself standing, or sagging rather, between two men and staring stupidly at the horse they had just lifted me from. Someone behind me said, “Take him inside,” and I was dragged off to a dimly-seen little hovel and dropped on a mattress. Then, thank God, everything was still and I could lie down and be quiet, closing my eyes so that my head hurt less.
After a little while longer, someone else came and looked at my head, and then began to give me a drink of water. I was thirsty and drank greedily, if slowly, until the face of the woman who was holding the cup registered somewhere. Eivlin. Yes.
And then I realized that she had lied to me and betrayed me into some trap of Medraut’s making. Of course, I told myself dully, you were a fool to believe her so quickly, a cursed fool to walk right into Medraut’s house. You should have known that Medraut would have no intention of leaving you free to warn Gwalchmai. And yet, that Eivlin should…I stopped drinking and turned my head away from her.
She realized what I meant and said, “Oh Rhys, I am sorry, I am sorry. I did not know that they would hurt you. Please, have something more to drink. It will make you feel better.”
But I wanted nothing from her, least of all her sympathy, and I gritted my teeth and did not look at her. After a while she went away.
It could not have been very much later when someone came over and dragged me up into a sitting position, and I found myself looking at Medraut ap Lot.
When he saw my eyes focus, he drew his hand away from my shoulder and smiled. “So you are again to be numbered among the enemy,” he said lightly. “Good. Mother has a use for you which I would like to see you serving.”
“Go away,” I moaned hopefully. I did not feel up to dealing with him.
He only laughed. “Not feeling well? You’ll recover.” Then his fine eyes narrowed, and he said savagely, “I am glad it worked this way, whatever Mother says. I do not like having to be gracious to insolent servants.”
“And I don’t like being smiled at by treacherous schemers,” I replied.
But he only smiled again. “That conclusion is recent, I think. You thought me a fine nobleman until this morning. Admit it.”
“I thought so, until I started comparing you to your brother, yes,” I said.
That did hit him. He slapped me hard, and my head hit the wall. I promptly fainted again. After a few minutes I came groggily to myself, and Medraut was still there. I felt very ill, and leaned against the wall, wishing he would vanish.
“My brother is a
fool,” hissed Medraut, “and a traitor to the Queen our mother. He had the chance to win power offered him, by her, and he chose Arthur instead. He sold us all, scorned us, and ran away. He was not worthy of the honor she gave him. He is a fool, a deceiving, careless…” he stopped and stood abruptly. I looked up at him unenthusiastically and restrained myself from the comment I had sitting on my tongue.
“You, now,” Medraut went on in a different tone, smiling his pleasant, open smile, “you are fortunate. Mother wishes to speak to you. I will tell her that you are recovered well enough to answer, and she will honor this place with the glory of her presence.”
I wished she would honor some other spot, but Medraut strode off, calling some order to another man who was sitting by a door. I looked about me for the first time. The place shortly to be glorified appeared to be one of those huts which shepherds use when their flocks are in the summer pasturage. Four walls of mud and wattle, a plain dirt floor with a fire pit in the center and, for a bed, the heap of bracken I was sitting on. One of Lot’s warriors sat on a three-legged stool by the door, watching me impassively.
“Do you speak British?” I asked him, without much hope. “Loquerisne Latine?” He simply stared. I groaned and lay down again.
My head throbbed, I still felt nauseous and generally confused. And Morgawse of Orcade was going to come and ask me questions. I could think of nothing to do except to pray for the grace to answer her fitly, and not yield; and so that much I did. As I prayed, I found myself wondering whether I could have avoided this. Well, there was Rhuawn. He was not a bad man. I knew that, in ordinary circumstances, he was as generous and even-tempered a warrior as any living. If I had spoken to him more gently, or at least spoken privately, he might very well have listened to me. Unless…I wondered again at Medraut’s harping. Sorcery? Well, if so, it had not worked on me, and so should not have worked on Rhuawn.
But even if Rhuawn had supported Medraut, I began to think that I should have kept silent. Pretended to agree, and then gone and warned my lord when I knew the whole plot. More efficient and far less risky. If I’d used a little discretion, a little common sense! And common sense had always been a supposed strong point of mine. I groaned again, and resolved to be more careful in the future. If I had a future. Which was by no means certain.
Choices are strange things. Not three months before I had chosen to fight, actively, for the Light. I had asked a visiting stranger to take me to Camlann. And now here I lay waiting to be questioned, or God alone knew what, by a notorious witch, and wondering whether I would see another morning. The thought shook me. Never again to see the faces of my family, never again the warm hearth fire with my own place waiting there, or the fields white with the harvest or the oxen drawing the plough or the skylarks flying. To die in a strange land, with no one knowing of it.
But then, I had made the choice, and made it honestly, so it was no use thinking what might have happened. And everyone has to die some time, and it is good enough to die for the Light, keeping one’s faith with a good man. Things might have been otherwise, I might have held my tongue with Medraut—but I hadn’t, and, being who I am, I wasn’t sure I could have. So I thrust all distractions from my mind and started praying again.
When I heard hoof beats outside, I pushed myself up to a sitting position and crossed myself, then waited. It had grown dark in the room, and I realized that it must be night outside, though whether it was the night of the same day that I was hit on the head I was not sure.
Medraut entered the room first, holding a lantern with a horn shield for the flame. He barely glanced at me, and raised the lantern high, standing aside from the door.
Morgawse entered the room like a flood. She wore a long, dark traveling cloak over her crimson gown, and to my still addled eyes it looked as though she trailed in the whole night after her. She stood very still inside the door, looking down at me. She was smiling a little, but her eyes froze my heart’s blood. I braced myself and stared back.
“Light the fire,” she ordered, without moving her gaze.
I saw Eivlin creep from behind her back and slip to the fire, fumble about with the tinder. It made me sick to look at her, and I looked hard. She was very pale, and carefully avoided turning her eyes towards me.
The tinder caught, and a little more light flared up, making Eivlin’s hair glow like ripe wheat fields in the wind. The shadows leapt, then steadied in the lamplight as the fire began to bite into the wood. Morgawse unclasped the silver brooch of her traveling cloak and let it fall from her shoulders. Medraut caught it and handed it to the guard, with a short order in Irish. The guard bowed slightly and left. The Queen looked neither at him, nor at Medraut, but only gestured slightly with her right hand. Medraut glanced about, and hung the lantern from the thatched roof, then picked up the three-legged stool the guard had used and moved it closer to the fire. He stepped over to me, caught my left arm and dragged me to my feet. My head swam, and I felt a wave of sickness, but I stumbled over to where Medraut pulled me, and flopped down on the stool, facing the Queen.
She crossed her arms. They were bare, free of her rich, dark crimson gown, and looked very white and strong. I would almost rather have looked at her eyes than her arms, but I tried to stare straight in front of myself and pay her no attention. Eivlin, I noticed from the corner of my eye, had crept back against the wall and huddled there, pale and dark-eyed and miserable.
“S-s-o-o,” said Morgawse at last, her voice very soft and cold. “You do not believe that my son Gwalchmai is mad.”
I had not expected to hear that tale again. I shut my mouth more firmly and glared into space.
“Well, perhaps you are right.” The Queen’s dress rustled as she moved. “Now, perhaps, you are right. But tomorrow you may be wrong.”
I didn’t like the sound of it. Did she plan to drive Gwalchmai mad? Could she? He had said that she had tried to kill him by sorcery. Plainly enough, that attempt had failed. Perhaps she would simply fail again.
But perhaps she would not.
“Look at me, slave,” said Morgawse. I looked. Her eyes were even colder and blacker than I remembered, and I felt as though I were trying to swim at mid-winter. But I met them. I would not be afraid; especially, I would not let my betrayer Eivlin see how much afraid I was.
“You are going to help in the treatment Medraut will give my son for his madness,” Morgawse stated.
I set my teeth. “Lady, I will not.”
“Whether or not you will, by your help it is going to be done, and done tomorrow. Living or dead, you are going to help.”
I could feel my heart pounding very hard, and I felt sick again, but this time not from the blow on my head. I swallowed several times. I once heard a story about a man who fell into the hands of witches, but managed to slip away from them. Some time later he dreamed that they came, cut his throat and tore out his heart, draining away his blood and sealing the wound with a sponge. He dreamed that then they commanded him to do dreadful things, robbing the graves and churchyards, and that these things he did. He woke next morning in his own bed, shaking, and was glad it was only a dream, glad to travel on his way—and then, when he stopped at a spring to drink, a sponge fell from his throat and he fell over dead, “with no more blood in him than a bled duck.” My sister Morfudd had told the story with relish, and I had laughed, but I could not imagine at what. Looking at Morgawse’s eyes, I was certain that she could do, if not that, then something of the kind. Living or dead, she said, living or dead I would help her in whatever she and Medraut plotted against Gwalchmai. Something in me, the very fabric of my flesh and blood, began to shriek at me to assent to whatever she asked. If I would betray my lord, living or dead, surely it was better to do it living? Then at least I might be of some help afterwards. Then she would not tear my heart out with that strong white hand, so that afterwards I fell over dead like that other…
“Lady,” I said, “whatever you can compel my body to do, I will not help you in any scheme of yours. And don’t think that you can terrify me into obeying you, for I know that, for all your sorcery, you cannot damn my soul any more than you can save your own.” And I put my head back and looked her in the eyes.
To my surprise, my words struck her. Her face flushed a very little, and her smile slipped only slightly, but some quaver seemed to pass behind her eyes, a horrible ravaging loneliness and a sick desire. She took a quick stride closer to me, and caught my hair, dragged my head back and stooped until her face was bare inches from mine.
“Bravely spoken!” her voice was almost a hiss. “Keep your soul, then; but I will have your mind and your body for my purposes. And those I can have, slave, I can.” She thrust me violently away and snapped upright again. The thrust pushed me off the stool, and I scorched my leg in the fire before I managed to get onto my hands and knees and crawl away. Morgawse, Medraut, and Eivlin watched me thrash about. The first two were scornful, almost amused, but a glance at Eivlin showed me that she sat against the wall with her knees drawn up, biting her lips and looking utterly wretched. I wondered what she was thinking.
I sat back on my heels, deciding that I was safer on the ground, and managed to look back at Morgawse. She still made my skin crawl with a black horror, but I no longer felt so afraid of her. I knew that her power was limited. More than that, I knew suddenly that I could die, and still keep the faith: and this knowledge was victory.
But her face was impassive again, deathly white except for those terrible eyes. She began speaking in her normal soft voice: “You will go back to Degannwy tomorrow morning, and you will ask your lord to come and speak with you, away from the stronghold. You will bring him here, and say that there is something he must see here; and you will advise him to tie his horse securely outside. When you have him in this hovel, ask him for his sword. Tell him that you wish to swear on it. When he has given it to you, freely, you will throw it out the door as hard and as far as you are able, and you will then block the doorway if he tries to go out after it. Then Medraut and Rhuawn will come and bind him, and your part is done.”
Kingdom of Summer Page 18
