Kingdom of Summer

by Gillian Bradshaw

  “Och no. The warriors always wanted Agravain back, and spoke of him whenever they were frightened by Morgawse. King Lot had already named him as his successor. And the royal clan always hated Morgawse, though they feared her more than they hated her. They will be quick to find excuses for this lord now that my lady is dead.”

  Good. He could go home and be with his clan, honored by the warband, and perhaps even be king for a few years. But something of that mad misery in his eyes gave me a cold certainty that it would be no more than a few years. A curse? Not, I thought, in the sense of some black spell like the one that had nearly killed Eivlin. But the woman had been his mother, and he had never come to terms with her, and now he had murdered her and never could. Morgawse, dead. I remembered her terrible eyes and soft voice. Darkness, still present, threatened no less savagely with Morgawse of Orcade dead.

  The door of the hut was flung open, and I started out of my brooding to see Rhuawn. He stared back, astonished, then grinned.

  “Rhys! You are safe, then. I am glad. And you are the Queen’s servant, Eivlin…”

  I stood, carefully dusting off the bread crumbs. Eivlin also stood, eyeing Rhuawn suspiciously. “Much health, Rhuawn,” I said.

  He nodded briskly. “But what has happened to you? How have you come back? I tell you, Rhys, these past few days have been as confused as some nightmare. I heard that Gwalchmai had come back. I told Medraut, through the door—he has locked himself into the Queen’s room, and he will not speak to anyone. He said a few days ago that you had had trouble with Maelgwn’s men…”

  “Rhuawn…” I interrupted.

  He frowned. “Come. I know. I gave you a blow and some hard words when you were insolent. But do not hold that against me still.” He dropped onto the other bed, waving a loose hand for us to sit as well. Leaning forward, hands locked together between his knees, he went on, “You were insolent, but, God knows, you spoke from loyalty. You are not to blame for misunderstanding the situation, and I lost my temper, and went further than I meant to. Is it well?” He put out a hand, smiling a little. After an instant’s hesitation, I took it. Deluded still or not, Rhuawn’s apology, such as it was, was sincere.

  “It is well, if well with you, Lord. Though I think I did understand the situation.”

  His smile vanished, but he shrugged. “As you say. But come, tell me what has happened. I do not know whether I stand on firm earth or on ocean. Medraut said he fought some of Maelgwn’s men, who were a bit over-hasty when they tried to prevent you from leaving. Did you escape from them?”

  I shook my head. “There is no way that I could escape from them, seeing that they were never there. I did escape, though, but from Medraut, the Queen Morgawse, and a warrior they had with them to guard the horses. That was Eivlin’s doing.”

  Rhuawn frowned, and began tapping his knee with his sword hand. “Are you still unreasonable about Medraut?” he asked.

  “Lord, I am saying nothing more than the truth. Medraut is a sorcerer and a liar. He charmed you, and nearly charmed me, into believing him honest. He and the Queen had some plan against your lord the Emperor which involved getting my lord Gwalchmai out of the way first. That was why he chose us to practice his lies on…”

  But Rhuawn was shaking his head. “This makes no sense. I like Medraut ap Lot. I have known for years, too, that Gwalchmai has a kind of madness in him.”

  “You have also known that Morgawse was a witch.”

  “So it has been said. But it is much more reasonable to believe that she has merely excited envious rumors.”

  “Lord, you cannot believe that! Think of her a moment.”

  He paused, uneasily, then shook his head again. “This makes no sense. Why should I listen to a runaway servant?”

  “Because I am speaking the truth. And I’ll swear to it by any oath you choose.”

  He studied me, and looked at Eivlin. She nodded her support. He stood abruptly, walked over to the fire. Not a stupid man, I thought, and basically a good man. Caught in his own confusions.

  “If I believe you, Medraut is a subtle, treacherous, dangerous schemer.” He found a stick and prodded the fire savagely. “While I am a fool.”

  I wanted to agree, but it would be better to let him keep his place, that carefully won position of important warrior. “Not a fool, Lord. Just a man who is honest enough to believe others honest, and experienced enough to know about court maneuverings and think of men’s words and policies rather than their actions and characters. That is no dishonor.”

  “In other words, Rhys, a fool.” His stick had caught fire, and he raised the tip out of the flames, watching the end burn. “But there are good, arguable reasons for believing both sides here.”

  “You have known Gwalchmai for years. Think about actions and personality instead of reasons.”

  He shook his head. “But I like Medraut. He is less…less unwordly than Gwalchmai, more careful of his clan and position. Or so he has seemed. You have never struck me as a liar, Rhys, and yet—you could be mistaken. Gwalchmai…yes, he is as generous, as noble and courteous a man as any I know, and yet…”

  “Gwalchmai has murdered our mother.” The voice broke in like a sword stroke, and we all spun about. Medraut stood in the door, watching us. I had not heard him come.

  There was nothing wild about him, as there had been about Agravain’s appearance. He was too calm, almost, well dressed in a purple-bordered cloak, gold-studded baldric at a precise and elegant angle. But his eyes were too bright, and very, very cold.

  “Well?” he asked, addressing no one. “A fine madness, isn’t it, Rhuawn, to bring a sword down into your mother’s neck, and sheath it again all bloody with the source of your own life.”

  “What are you saying?” asked Rhuawn, horrified at the words.

  He smiled, brightly, mockingly. “I think I was plain enough.” Dropping his hand from the doorframe he strolled into the room. “Gwalchmai and Agravain between them have murdered Morgawse of Orcade, daughter of the Pendragon Uther, their mother and mine. They killed her because they thought she was having an affair with Maelgwn.”

  “Agravain killed her,” I said. Rhuawn stared at me, shocked. Medraut’s clear gray eyes also fixed on me, and looking at him was as chilling as looking at Morgawse. “Agravain killed her because she murdered Lot by sorcery.”

  Medraut laughed. “Agravain! A whimpering puppy, a cur that should have been drowned at birth! If she had been herself she could have blotted him off the face of the earth with one snap of her fingers. Oh, he may have held the sword, but the heart that forged the deed and the mind that framed it belong to Gwalchmai, may the hounds of Yffern devour his heart and mind down all the eternities we can dream of, asleep or waking. He killed her.”

  Rhuawn was shaking his head in confusion. “Rhys,” quietly. “Rhys, is this true?”

  “Agravain killed the Queen,” I insisted. “He did it to revenge his father. Gwalchmai was there before Agravain arrived, but he only talked to her, and left again. I was there, and left with him. Medraut was there too. My lord did not kill her, though it would have been easy and desirable for him to have done so.”

  “No.” Medraut laid one palm flat against the wall, looking at me with a fixed bright stare. “No. He merely crushed her, kicked her aside, and left. He killed some men from his father’s warband, his cousins, and left. With you. Why should I dispute it with you? I came to ask you where he is.”

  “He is talking to Agravain.”

  “And together they wash their hands in her blood and gloat, saying how well done it was, how now the earth is free of a great sorceress. Rhuawn!” Medraut whirled to him, face pale, but eyes even brighter. “I told you he was mad. Do you see what has happened, now that he has gone unchecked? Murder, murder of his kin, murder of his own mother, my mother, who made all the world look pale beside her beauty. She
who commanded, and the stars bowed in heaven! She is dead. Oh by the sun, the blood, and the sword, and…but it is better. He would have done worse things. She talked to him, and he would have done worse things to her. But ahhh…” the words died into a cry of pain, and he stood motionless, blinking. He was not pretending the pain for Rhuawn’s sake. It was real enough, and more convincing than even his best acting had been. It called Rhuawn over to him, to catch his arm.

  “Come, sit down,” Rhuawn said. “The thing is appalling, I know, to lose both parents within three days’ time; and yet, cousin, one must live on. Rhys, get him something to drink.” When I did not move, Rhuawn jerked his head up and glared. “Do you still believe Gwalchmai, after this?”

  “I was there,” I said. “Gwalchmai did not kill her. And I’m certain she would have killed him—or killed Medraut, for that matter, if she thought it would help.”

  “You lie!” Medraut jumped up again. “She would never have killed me. She told me so. Not me! She, she…God, but I will kill you, and Gwalchmai, and Arthur. Especially Arthur…”

  “Hush. My lord Arthur has nothing to do with it.” Rhuawn was confused. “Rhys, fetch him something to drink. Medraut, my lord Arthur is not your enemy.”

  Medraut looked at him and began to laugh. I left to fetch some mead, and Eivlin left with me.

  Saidi ap Sugyn was even less pleased to see us this time, but gave us another flask of mead. I took the flask and two more cups and started back to the hut, but I told Eivlin to find Gwalchmai and tell him what had happened. Agravain ought to be calm enough now to go to sleep, if he were not dead drunk, and I did not trust Medraut. He might do anything at all.

  Except for the hissing of the fire, the hut was completely silent when I got back. Medraut, apparently, had no wish to be consoled. Rhuawn again crouched before the fire, prodding at it with his stick, while Medraut sat on the bed, looking relaxed and controlled again, eyes fixed on the door, fingers curled loosely about the hilt of his sword. When I came in, Rhuawn threw his stick into the fire, took the flask of mead from me, and poured a cup for himself and for Medraut. Medraut barely glanced at the offered drink, so Rhuawn set the cup down beside him and went to the fire.

  Gwalchmai came only a few minutes later, Eivlin trailing in behind him. He stopped in the door, waiting.

  Medraut stood slowly, hand still on his sword, eyes unwavering. Gwalchmai met the stare evenly, though his hand also drifted to the gold of his sword hilt. “Medraut.” He spoke the name very gently. “You wished to see me.”

  “Rhuawn.” Medraut still did not look away. “I wish to speak to my brother privately.”

  “Of course.” Rhuawn stepped towards the door, then stopped. “Cousin, if you wish to come to Camlann with us, my lord Arthur offers rich hospitality to all. There would be a place for you. And friends, myself among them. It might be good for you to see another land, and to forget the past…I will be waiting down the hill. Shout if you need help.”

  Medraut nodded, not looking at him, and Rhuawn slipped past Gwalchmai out the door. Eivlin looked at me, pale-faced, and, when I nodded, followed him out, closing the door behind her. I stayed. Perhaps there was little I could do, but to wait down the hill seemed too far away.

  Gwalchmai glanced at me and frowned a little. “It is not necessary, Rhys.”

  I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall by the fire.

  “Let your mastiff stay and guard you, then,” said Medraut. “It is unimportant whether he or anyone else hears what we say.” He took a deep breath, and the gold glittered on his baldric and collar, “I wanted to see what you would say to the truth, the simple truth. You killed Mother.”

  “I?”

  “You. Oh, I know, Agravain carried the sword. But if you had not broken her with that other sword, your sword, she would be alive. Is it sweet to you, to have destroyed the most splendid thing the world ever held?”

  “Medraut. It is not sweet, but very bitter—and yet I did not kill her.”

  “Death and defeat are the same, especially for her. And the guilt is yours, evade it as you will, yours. And I know it. That is what I wished to tell you.” He was infinitely cool, elegantly calm.

  Gwalchmai approached him slowly, stopping when they were only a foot or so apart. He too was completely calm, but with the kind of calmness the sick man has when the pain is so great, so wearing, that he ceases to struggle with it. His voice was entirely steady. “Before God, I swear that when I left, my heart held no malice towards her. Earlier I might have killed her, but you yourself saw what became of that. Medraut, she is dead. And you saw, before we fought her at the last, how little you meant to her. Leave her be. It was a long, dark dream, brother, but it is ended now. If you will waken, the night is over.”

  “The night is real, and your day is a delusion. What I told Rhuawn is true: you are mad, brother, chasing after an illusion and destroying the reality. One day I will take your Camlann, your lord Arthur, your beloved Family, and break them all to fragments, and the night will have its own.”

  “Then you will break the most splendid and lovely thing in this dark West. Forget the Darkness, Medraut. You cared about other things once. I know, once you loved other things than power and her. Medraut, I have cared. I have thought of you, since I left, again and again, wondered what she did to you, prayed that you would break free. Can’t you wake even now?”

  “I have woken. She is dead. As for love, brother, I loved you once, and it makes me hate you the more now.” Medraut’s mouth began to curl into his mocking smile again, and his eyes glittered. His hair shone in the lamplight. Facing him, Gwalchmai looked like a shadow. “But perhaps I should go and see your sweet dream of light, brother. I think I will. I will accept Rhuawn’s offer. I will go to Camlann, to visit my father.”

  Gwalchmai’s eyes widened only a fraction, but a jewel flashed on his collar as he drew in his breath too quickly. Medraut noticed and laughed.

  “Yes, my father. I know now, you see. Mother told me. After Agravain used that sword of his.” He struck the hilt of his own sword abruptly, hard enough to hurt his hand, but no pain showed in his face, only an intensity near to desperation. “Agravain was frightened, you see, and did it badly; and then he was more frightened, and ran out. I had just woken from the half-death your sorceries sent me to, but I came to her. He had cut her deeply, from the base of the neck through the collar bone, down towards her heart. But she was still alive. And she spoke to me. She said she had always loved me, only me, and never anyone else—she said that, do you hear.” Gwalchmai was shaking his head sadly in denial. “She said that. But then she said, ‘So now, fulfill our plans, if you love me. Go to your father.’ And I said, ‘The man they called my father is dead; who do you mean?’ And she smiled.” For the first time, Medraut’s eyes left his brother’s face, and stared out the door into the night. “She smiled that smile of hers that made your heart stop, the smile that no one will ever see again. But when she spoke, her voice bubbled over the blood. She said, ‘Your true father, who begot you in Britain, that summer when Uther was Pendragon. Go to my brother Arthur at Camlann. Go to your father.’ At first I didn’t see what she meant. Then I did see, and she knew that I saw it, and she died, still smiling. Then…then I put wood about the hut and fired it, and watched it burn until it was only ashes. She is dead, my mother. Shall I go to my father?” He smiled again, but the smile twisted into a grimace of pain. His shoulders were shaking, hands clenched, but the unwavering cold eyes were fixed on Gwalchmai again. I felt sick.

  “Medraut!” Gwalchmai raised one hand in a helpless compassion.

  “Death to you all!” Medraut whispered, then, his voice rising to a shriek of agony and fury, “Death and ruin to you all, you traitors, you murdering, raping, usurping…” The cry trailed into a scream of frenzy, and he turned, rushed out of the room into the night. The door slammed shut behind him.


  Gwalchmai looked at the door, hand still lifted. “Medraut,” he whispered, then slowly lowered his hand, fingers curling, straightening. “Medraut.” I couldn’t move. The fire hissed loudly in the silence, and the shadows flickered about the hearth.

  After a minute, Gwalchmai sat down on the bed. He looked at me. After another moment, “It is true,” very quietly.

  “Arthur is his father?”

  “Yes.”

  “Incest? And Arthur her great enemy, as well as her brother?”

  “Yes.” Gwalchmai nodded tiredly, rubbed one hand down his thigh. He looked at the fire. “My lord did not know at the time that he was Uther’s son. It was a month or so later that he led some raid for the Pendragon, and did it so well that he attracted Uther’s attention. When Uther sought him out, it was discovered that my lord was his own son. My mother knew it beforehand. That was why she seduced him.” He looked back to me and said calmly, simply, “You will say nothing of this to anyone. It would do harm to my lord.”

  “They will guess, if he goes to Camlann. He looks like Arthur.”

  “If they only guess, it will do no harm. Rumors can be ignored.”

  “But will Medraut go to Camlann? Can he? You know, and can tell Arthur, that he means to destroy us all.”

  “The High King must give hospitality to any noble who comes. He certainly can’t refuse it to the son, or the brother, of the king of the Orcades. Arthur wanted to send me home when I first came, but he couldn’t. Medraut will go to Camlann. And he will find many friends there, though he will still in himself be friendless.” Gwalchmai rested his elbows on his knees, rubbed his hands across his forehead. “Maelgwn will let us go now, but he will continue to scheme on his own. Agravain will go home to Dun Fionn in the Orcades. We agreed that this would be best. The warband will probably name him king in the next few days, and the rest of the clan will doubtless confirm it when he gets back. We will visit Arthur first, of course, and he will swear loyalty. But he will die, Rhys. This thing will kill him. And…” He pressed his hands against his eyes. “And…” His shoulders began to shake, as though something within him were breaking, and he gave one quiet, racking sob.