Guinevere's Tale

by Nicole Evelina

  I gave a sarcastic huff. “Like what?”

  “This island is at war on at least four fronts, and you could lead any of them, save the Saxons. I dare say they’d slit your throat if you tried. But look here.” He stabbed the map on the table in front of me with a narrow finger. “I may only be a slave, but I have eyes and ears and I used to rule a sizable part of this land. I know as much as those at court. As you say, you could join this foolhardy quest to overthrow Mynyddog and Evina. The easiest way to do that is either to ally with Rohan or kill him. Depends if you want Mynyddog as your enemy or your ally.”

  “I vote for ally,” Lancelot put in.

  “Or you could take back Camelot’s throne.” He ticked off a second option on his fingers. “Constantine would bow to you and the people would back you.” I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off. “I know, I know, you don’t want it. You’ve made yourself abundantly clear on that score. I didna say you had to keep it. You could hold it long enough to end this bloody civil war. Then you can pass the crown on to Constantine or Helene or whomever you wish. My point is that in that role, you could put pressure on our enemies to get anything you will.”

  I shot him an unconvinced look.

  “If that doesn’t please you, you could back Owen and Accolon in their fight against the Saxons,” Lancelot said, warming to Galen’s line of thinking. “But in order to be of value, you’d have to have an army behind you, which necessitates being queen of some kingdom—which puts us back where we began.”

  Anna and Galen nodded.

  “Why does it always come back to power and a throne?” I threw up my hands, wishing I could punch something to relive the growing frustration within me.

  Galen smirked. “Have you nae been paying attention? It’s your destiny. You were born to rule, to lead this country, this land through times of great uncertainty. That much was plain to me the first time I laid eyes on you as a lass, which is why I knew I could never woo you as I did Isolde, nor break your heart like I did with Elaine. You had too much of a role to play for me to muck it up simply for my own amusement.” His eyes were shining with pride.

  I dropped my gaze to the floor, no longer able to look at him directly. To think, so many years before, while I was second-guessing his every move and pouting that he chose Isolde over me, Galen had already foreseen the heights to which I would rise. My throat tightened and tears pricked the back of my eyes. I could not speak now even if I wanted to.

  Galen gently took my hand. “Let me ask you this. What would you do if you were not in power? Go back to Avalon and spin your magic until you die?”

  I shook my head. I had already considered that upon leaving Mayda’s convent. As much as I loved Avalon, the life of a resident priestess felt too… contained. Deep down, my spirit told me there was still something I needed to do before I retired to a life of solace on the holy isle.

  “Good. We’ve eliminated that possibility. Despite all your protestations to the contrary, I certainly do nae see you settling down with Lancelot to live a quiet life.” He shot Lancelot an apologetic look. “If you had wanted that, your inclination would have been to flee to Brittany after Arthur died, not come here. No. You came here because you wanted to reconnect with your kin, with your blood. And that means accepting your power.”

  Galen was right, but if I did what he was proposing, what they all were proposing, I would be mirroring the actions for which I’d criticized Mordred so harshly. For was I not moving against my own kin? But then again, my name was being used without my consent, so I was linked to this evil even if I never acted. Would Evina believe me innocent? Not likely. If my reputation was already in tatters, what did I have to lose?

  I looked to Lancelot for advice. He had been so quiet, so unusually reserved, I feared he objected to what I was considering.

  He breathed out forcefully through his nose, snorting like a bull. “I can’t say I relish another war, and I never thought I would challenge my sovereign lords, but what must be done, must be done. I will stand with you against Evina, if that is what you choose.” He entwined his fingers in mine across the table. “I am yours in all things, be assured of that.”

  I nodded, buoyed by his support, and blew out a breath to calm my jangled nerves and jittery stomach. “Then I suppose it is decided. But we must remain silent until we are certain this revolution has teeth. As far as anyone else is concerned, this is nothing but a silly rumor.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Spring 522

  A year passed without a whisper of my role in the ongoing clashes between the people and lords who supported me, and the Votad and Votadess. Thanks to Sobian’s network of spies, I had an easy way to funnel money, food, and weapons to those fighting for my cause—all without a single link to my name. The only person who knew I was the source was Sobian, and I was confident she would tell no one.

  While I was acting as ghost benefactor, Sobian was playing her part as Eithne, daughter of Morcant. She had done such a good job slithering her way into Rohan’s affections that she was now living with him in Dùn Breatann. He expected to marry her at Lughnasa, so we had only a few months to conclude her role and send Eithne back to the Picts.

  I invited the two to stay with me for a while in the hopes I could help move along the ruse. Morcant was supposed to arrive from Bernicia two days before them, ostensibly to discuss how we could deal with the revolutionaries spouting my name at every turn, but so far we had no word from him.

  We had been hunting earlier in the day and were now taking a much-needed break from the chase. Sobian and I waited by the riverside for Rohan and Lancelot to return from field dressing our kill and seeing to their horses, which both men insisted on doing personally, though an abundance of capable grooms flocked around them. I suspected Rohan went along with it only because it was Lancelot’s way and he didn’t wish to be seen as inferior or lazy in comparison.

  I had already laid out our cloaks, which were no longer needed as the day grew warmer, along with a small feast of bread, cheese, fruit, and a flagon of ale. Sobian trailed behind me as I plucked leaves, flowers, and roots from the edible or medicinal plants that grew along the bank.

  “Rohan’s father wasn’t killed by a god, was he? Otherwise you may be fated to stay with him beyond Lughnasa,” I teased, referring to the Witch of Orkney’s prediction.

  Her answering laugh was a tinkle that never failed to lighten my heart. She turned to face me, and for a moment, my breath caught. Though I had seen her a few times since she began this ruse, I was still astounded by how thoroughly she had changed her appearance. She looked a decade younger, hair tinted slightly red with a dye given to her by a Greek merchant’s wife, and the whorling lines of woad around her eyes and on her cheeks masked the age lines that could have betrayed her deception.

  “I think not. But I’m a betting woman, so I’ll take that wager. Besides, it’s not like much would change if we did marry. Let the deception play out in its own good time.”

  “How does it not make you nervous living two lives?” I asked quietly, after reassuring myself no one was near enough to hear.

  She shrugged. “I’ve been doing it for so long it comes as second nature.” She stopped me with a touch to my wrist. The weight of her fingers said something serious was on her mind. “Do you not find it strange that Morcant is delayed? Should he not send a rider on to let us know of illness or other problems on the journey? It doesn’t feel right.”

  “One would think, but I’m sure there is a very good reason,” I said, trying to assuage both of us. But the tingling in my brow had already begun. A few more steps and I sank to my knees, unable to resist it.

  Once again, I was flying on the wings of a bird, soaring above a sky tinged with smoke curling from the remains of a badly scarred hillfort atop a double-peaked mountain that stood out from the Cheviot Hills like a woman’s breast. We circled the area, borne on warm
air currents, moving closer and closer to the smoking walls with each pass. To the north, the white-capped North Sea endured the abuses of men’s boots and boat hulls as hulking Saxon ships overtook British curraghs in the narrow waters between the mainland and the Isle of Winds. Below us, tiny and insignificant as ants, men, women, and children scurried over the fragrant heather, panic and fear etched into their faces alongside tear tracks, clutching what few belongings they could hold, seeking sanctuary they would not be granted by the invaders who had destroyed their town. Finally, we lit on a crumbling stone fence that had protected the fort and its occupants for centuries, but today failed miserably. One look inside the central keep revealed Yeavering Bell was now in the hands of our enemies. Ida, king of the Saxons, sat in Morcant’s place.

  My vision ended before I could tell whether or not Morcant lived, but it was enough. Cold to the bone with shock, I leaned on Sobian as we stumbled back to the castle to assemble an army and depart to support our ally and overlord. While Lancelot and Rohan saw to the muster, Anna prepared for a hasty departure to aid her son, should the Saxons press north into Lothian. I gathered our fastest messengers to send word to Owain and Accolon. They likely already knew of the coup, but more than that, they needed to know we would stand with them in the inevitable clash at their eastern border.

  “I told those fools years ago that paying the Saxons to hold the Isle of Winds would come back to haunt them,” Sobian raged, pacing my study while I wrote. “Morcant summoned me to help organize their naval defenses, but he would not listen to me in any other capacity. Arrogant dog.” She punched the windowsill before stalking back toward me. “Just you wait—he will come crying to me for help. I should refuse him, but we both know I can’t resist the call of a sea battle.”

  “I’m glad you will be there. If Owain and Accolon attempt to retake the isle, which I believe they will, we will need your help. Rohan and I can lead the ground troops across the causeway and onto the island, but the last thing we need is them surrounding us in those sea-serpents they call ships.”

  “I will put the call out for my girls to meet us in Din Guayrdi.”

  My eyes widened with a chilling thought. “How will you handle Rohan?”

  In all the chaos, I had forgotten he still thought her to be a Pict. She would travel with us, and him, and once we reached Din Guayrdi, she would fight by his side. He may even recognize her. That would ruin everything.

  Sobian gave me an impish smile that so reminded me of Isolde, my heart squeezed in pain. “I’ve already got that planned. Tonight when Rohan returns to our rooms from overseeing the last of the troop details, I will tell him I think it best that I, or rather, Eithne, should return home. The Picts will be anxiously watching the outcome in Bernicia, because the fight over the Isle may give them an opportunity to slip in and take control of the waterway. If they do, Lothian and Bernicia are done for. Eithne will want to be sure her troops are prepared.” Her face darkened, and she stuck out her lower lip in mock sorrow. “Of course, it will be a very tearful departure for the lovers, with many promises of fidelity and love.” She cackled an evil laugh.

  Given that Lord Morcant was nowhere to be seen in my vision, I suspected he was already on the run and would arrive here soon—if he indeed had escaped the Saxon’s wrath—but I was not prepared for what greeted us a week later when the guards called out that a large number of visitors were requesting admittance just after nightfall. I had been expecting a small party of Morcant and his guards, perhaps a few attendants, not the remnants of his whole household with horses, furniture, and other trappings in tow. Their bedraggled state indicated they had fled in the same panicked state as their people.

  “Lord Morcant. Thank the gods you are alive and hale,” I greeted the young, dark-haired man in the courtyard with a curtsy. Behind me, Lancelot, Rohan, and Sobian did the same.

  Instead of the slight incline of the head I expected, one of his men stepped forward. “By order of the king of the Damnonii, Morcant Bulc, by whose benevolence you hold these lands, you are hereby ordered to vacate this fortress by daybreak. He invokes his right to seize any assets at will.”

  Stunned, I could only stare at Morcant, whose impassive face betrayed not a hint of embarrassment or guilt at making such a request. Rather, he was simply doing as needed.

  Finally, Morcant stirred atop his stallion. “I am sorry to impose upon you this way, but as you no doubt know, I am in need of a new capital. You and yours may occupy the smaller holding at Dùn Bhlàthain. I have sent word that its keepers are to prepare it for you.”

  My mind swirled with thoughts and protests, but every time one slipped to the front of my mouth, I had to swallow it down by reminding myself he had every right to do as he wished. I was no longer queen, but his subject, directed by his will in all things.

  “Dùn Bhlàthain is not a castle. It’s a ruined fort not fit for a pack of wild dogs,” Lancelot spat under his breath. When I glanced over my shoulder at him, he stepped forward and squeezed my hand. “Do not worry,” he said into my ear. “We can always stay on my lands in Angus if we need to. I will not let you go homeless.”

  Rohan stepped forward, smirking. He obviously saw the irony in this situation, as I had not long ago run him out of his home, the very same fortress Lord Morcant was now demanding I vacate. I steeled myself for a sarcastic quip, but he showed concern instead. “My lord, will you not give her time to prepare? Or take my holdings in Both an Uillt instead. Surely they are more to your liking.”

  Lord Morcant turned a stare on Rohan that may as well have pinioned him to the wall. “If I wanted your holdings, Lord Rohan, I would have seized them.” His gaze flicked to the castle around us, then south to the fort in the distance. “No. Now that the Saxons hold Bernicia, all of Alt Clut is vulnerable to attack. I wish to direct my forces from the fort of Stirling, not far away in the Vale of Leven.” He turned his dark gaze on me, jaw taut with irritation. “Besides, perhaps when they see you humbled, my people won’t be so eager to proclaim you their new queen.”

  Ah, so that was what this was really about. It was no mere coincidence that Morcant needed a home and chose to take mine. This was a punishment for the insurrection. He was stripping me of what little power and resources I had. Still, his reprimand stung, just as he’d intended.

  “Am I to understand that you intend to join Lord Owain in his fight to reclaim his island from the Saxons?” he asked me.

  “Indeed. Although since you have taken my lands, it is really your army to command. Shall we lead them under your banner?”

  Morcant grunted noncommittally, looking from me to Rohan and back again. “It is a fool’s errand, don’t you see that? As long as the Saxons hold Din Guarie, even if Owain is victorious, he will have to keep fighting to hold the isle. All the Saxons have to do is send out yet another contingent of men. Eventually they will overwhelm Owain’s forces.” He flicked his fingers dismissively at me. “Go if you will, but you will go alone. I will not have you move in my name with my army. You no longer speak for the people of this land. Is that clear?”

  “It was generous of you to offer your lands to Lord Morcant,” I said to Rohan as our party—down from nearly a hundred to only Lancelot, Rohan, Galen and me—rode southeast the following day.

  In the hills around us, gorse bloomed a vibrant yellow and scented our path with its distinctive nutty aroma. Lapwings and crossbills whirled and dipped overhead, chattering in their tongue as we conversed in ours.

  Rohan grimaced. “What he has done to you is deplorable. Those lands are yours by right of blood. After this battle is decided, you must appeal to Evina. He cannot take from you what she has granted.”

  I gave a small, sarcastic laugh. “I think it is best to stay below Evina’s attention at the moment. The last thing I need is to remind her that some people think I should have her title.”

  “When this is done, we will go north,” Lancelot s
aid decisively. “All of us. We do not need any of them.”

  “What if I wish to come along as well?” Rohan said in mock pout.

  “You have a kingdom to lead,” I responded.

  He took my hand. “But I will miss you so very much.”

  Lancelot rolled his eyes. “You will get used to it.”

  I eyed him with a half-smile. He was even more attractive when he was jealous.

  In Din Eidyn, we met up with Sobian, the addition of her cadre of girls making us finally look more like an army than a small group of pilgrims. She wore her hair loose, and I noted she had darkened the red with coal ash and maybe some ink; it was slightly darker than her natural dark brown.

  “I don’t like this lack of wind,” she said with a frown. “It will make using our boats under sail nigh impossible in the narrow waters between land and isle. This stillness will make it difficult to maneuver.”

  “Ah, but a priestess should be able to raise them, should she not?” Rohan gave me a wide smile.

  I glared at his presumption. “I can, but we have to think through if that is the strategy we want to employ. If these winds becalm your ships,” I said to Sobian, “they will force the Saxon fleet to stay near land as well. Your girls can fight on land just as well as at sea, but we don’t know how well-trained the Saxon navy is for a land battle. It could turn out that they would be easier to defeat at sea. I am of a mind to leave the weather as it is and only challenge nature when we must.”

  Rohan reined in his horse so he rode alongside mine. “You think of everything, don’t you? Are you sure you want to run off to Angus with him if this battle goes against us?” He hooked a thumb in Lancelot’s direction. “I think you could make a much bigger impact at my side.”