Page 16 of Warrior Queen
Chapter Six
My daughter Archfeddwas born in the spring. As far as births went, it was an altogether more enjoyable event than the birth of Amhar nearly three years before. At least this time I didn’t have Bretta, the girl from Caer Baddan, spitting curses at me. She’d been married off to a farmer from toward Caer Pensa, the old Roman town on the road west, and I hadn’t seen her in a long while.
Llacheu’s mother, too, had at last been found a man of her own– the tanner who lived and worked in the village at the foot of the hill. Now, at least, she wouldn’t be endlessly hanging around the Great Hall ogling my husband. Llacheu, who now slept in the hall with some of the other older boys, and visited his mother from time to time, told me she was expecting a little brother or sister for him in the summer, and was happy with her tanner.
“My family just keeps on growing bigger,” he said, as he led Amhar around the paddock on Seren, the little gray pony that had once been his. I leaned on the fence watching them, with Maia just behind me holding the sleeping Archfedd. She was a contented baby who spent much of her time asleep with her thumb in her mouth. I did wonder sometimes if she’d suffer from not having enough stimulation, but Donella the midwife told me to count my blessings and not to worry. A baby that slept as well as this was hard to find and should be valued.
Amhar hung on tight to the horns of Seren’s saddle. Nothing like the sort of saddle I’d used in my world, this resembled a Roman cavalry saddle with four horns, one in each corner to wedge the rider in a stable position for fighting. I’d helped provide even more stability when I’d introduced the fifth century to stirrups. However, Amhar’s legs were too short to reach them as yet, so the horns were needed to keep him safe.
He loved riding Seren, and Llacheu, who’d now turned ten and grown so much over the winter that the top of his head reached my nose, took pleasure in helping him. Today, he’d insisted Amhar should wear his little leather belt complete with its scabbard and wooden sword, although I’d put my foot down at him taking his small round shield. “He needs both hands to hold on.”
Amhar loved that sword as much as he loved his other, in my opinion more conventional, toys. Devin, the fortress carpenter, had made him lots of playthings to my specifications, from sketches I did on the thin slivers of wood that stood in for paper. None ofthatavailable within the confines of the fortress, and what parchment there was, Arthur wanted for maps. He’d been delighted to exploit my knowledge of British Isles geography.
But every time Amhar picked up his wooden sword to play-fight with his older cousin Medraut, that familiar ball of fear and trepidation settled in my stomach. Camlann. Would these two little boys end up on opposite sides there, the one fighting for his father, the other aiming to kill him?
Merlin and I hadn’t spoken much about my revelation since we’d returned that day last autumn from Ynys Witrin. We’d gone back to see Gildas a couple more times before I’d reached the stage where riding was too uncomfortable, but since the birth of Archfedd we’d not been at all. Gildas had ridden over just after Archfedd’s birth, with a piece of parchment he’d decorated for her. On it he’d simply written her name, but he’d illuminated the letter A with scrolls and a carefully drawn painting of a doe by a river. I’d put it away carefully to give to her when she was older.
Strident shouts from the maze of pathways that ran through the horse pens disturbed us. Medraut came running down the slope with Morgawse in hot pursuit. His short legs pounded the ground, and his long dark hair blew out behind him. A larger version of Amhar. The Pendragon children were all very similar in looks, although now Llacheu was older, something of his mother Tangwyn had emerged in him.
Medraut crashed into my legs and for a moment clung onto them. “I want a ride too,” he almost bellowed, the only thing moderating his vocal cords being his lack of breath after the run. “Amhar said I could ride his pony.”
Morgawse arrived, also panting. “Good heavens, I couldn’t keep up with him once he spotted you all down here.”
“I want a ride,” Medraut persisted. “Now.”
I laughed, but a tiny nub of unease at his demands formed at the back of my mind. I pushed it aside to be attended to later. “You shall have a ride after Amhar’s finished. Llacheu’s just leading him round the paddock one more time.”
Medraut’s lower lip jutted, and he folded his arms across his body, head down, brows lowered. “Not fair. I want a ride–now.” He stamped a small, booted foot. Several times.
Morgawse put a gentle hand on his curls. “You shall have one shortly. Let Llacheu lead Amhar round once more.”
Llacheu and Amhar were on the far side of the paddock. He’d tied up his black cob, Saeth, by the gate to stop her following Seren and being a nuisance. Now, her soft nose nuzzled at me, probably hoping for a treat.
Morgawse turned to coo over Archfedd in Maia’s arms.
Medraut stared hard at me. “I want to ridethathorse.” He pointed at Saeth.
I laughed. “She’s far too big for you. Llacheu only got her last year when he was nine. You’ll need to grow a bit before you’re big enough to ride a horse her size.”
Medraut glared. “I am big.” He tried to stand up taller, stretching his neck and head and standing on tiptoes. “I’m big enough to ride Saeth. Why should Llacheu get to ride her when I can’t? He’s only a base-born brat.”
Little monster.
I sighed, unsure what to do, and glanced at his mother to see if she was going to reprimand him for his words. My nephew was fast turning into a rebellious, rude child, even though he wasn’t yet four years old. And as he was still an only child, Morgawse gave in to his demands too easily and tended to spoil him. But she was my sister-in-law, and I liked her. She’d elected to stay on here in Theodoric’s house even when he’d returned to Caer Legeion and his fleet. Especially when she’d discovered I was pregnant.
However, she didn’t appear to have heard what Medraut had said, or she’d decided to ignore it altogether. She held out her arms to Maia for the baby. “Here, let me hold her.” Reluctant, Maia passed over the blanket clad bundle, watching her like a hawk from beneath drawn brows. She was of the opinion that no one could look after my children better than she could. Not even me.
Medraut tugged the wide sleeve of my tunic. “Isaid– I want a ride–now.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him off for his rudeness, but the last time I’d tried that, Morgawse had been deeply hurt. I glanced her way again, but she was deep in a cooing conversation with my baby, not paying her son any attention. Which might account for his perpetual bad behavior.
Llacheu walked back up the field toward us, Amhar beaming with delight. He stopped beside the gate, well clear of Saeth.
“Again!” Amhar shouted, banging his chubby fists on the saddle horns. “Again, Lachy. Again.”
Medraut strode up to Llacheu. “No, it’s my turn now.Iwant a ride.”
From his position on Seren’s back, Amhar regarded his cousin with some disfavor. “No. Seren’s mine. I’m ridin’ her.”
