Page 25 of Warrior Queen

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Llacheu brought Alezan from the stable block. She skittered across the cobbles, tail swishing and ears back, at her most mareish, but he was a good handler, and he held her firm.

I took her reins. “Thank you.”

He grunted, then added a deep sigh. “I wanted to get her ready for you. The next best thing to coming, I suppose.”

“You’re eleven,” I retorted. “Not even you can say that’s old enough to be a warrior.”

He scowled, the image of his father. “Rhiwallon gets to go, though.” A jerk of his head indicated where his one-time friend stood laughing with three older boys, all of them mounted and ready for the off, their helmet straps hanging loose.

“He’s considered a man now,” I said, hating the words as they came out of my mouth. But this was the Dark Ages, and fourteen was no longer a child. Arthur had led an army at that age.

“It’s still not fair,” Llacheu muttered, keeping a hand on Alezan’s bit to steady her as I struggled to mount.

I tightened the reins to stop her swinging around, and swung up into the saddle. “Can you fetch my shield? I left it by the door into the hall.”

One-handed, I fastened my helmet straps while Llacheu trudged to retrieve my shield, his every step illustrative of his dejection. The shield was a light one. Those carried by the men would have been too heavy for me, and at my request Arthur had commissioned an especially light version, with my golden dragon ring painted on a dark background. Llacheu brought it, and I hooked it on one of my saddle’s four horns, next to my saddle bags.

Coventina and Morgawse emerged to stand on the platform in front of the hall, sheltered from the rain by the overhanging thatch, with the children gathered around them. Maia stood a little back holding Archfedd, who was sucking on a wooden giraffe. When I’d shown my drawing of this animal to Devin, he’d scoffed at me and said it was a creature of my imagination. Arthur, too, had expressed doubt, even when I’d tried to explain to him about Africa. Amhar, on the other hand, believed every word I told him, and had an interesting collection of animals he’d most likely never see in the flesh.

He and Reaghan stood holding hands beside Coventina, my son’s little face alight with excitement at being allowed to watch the army’s departure. I’d already said my goodbyes inside, but the sight of them tugged at my heart, bringing tears that had to be dashed away with the back of my hand. Warrior queens don’t cry. With my love for Arthur tugging me one way, and my love for my children the other, I walked a precarious path between the two.

At last, we were ready.

“You’re in charge,” Merlin said, coming up beside me. “You should lead the way.” He swept his hand toward the gates.

With a final wave to my family, and a lump in my throat, I threaded Alezan through the throng of men, Merlin following close behind. Nowhere near as many men followed us as Arthur had taken when he left, but nevertheless, I’d mustered a formidable number. Now and then a warrior reached out a hand to touch me as I passed, taking on the luck they believed I brought them.

In the west, a few patches of blue showed between the clouds, and the rain lessened a little. At the head of my warriors, I rode through the double gates and onto the narrow, curving pathway that led down the hill and onto the plain.

Chapter Nine

“We can rideup to Caer Gloui where there’re still a couple of bridges across the river, or we can take the ferry across the estuary,” Merlin said, as our horses clattered down the road toward Caer Baddan, our nearest large town. If you could call it a town, considering its state of extreme dilapidation. I’d been shocked the first time I’d seen it, but now I knew most of the old Roman towns were in a similar state, thanks to a systematic depopulation that had been going on for over eighty years.

“The ferry?” My voice rose in doubt. I’d had experience of that ferry across the wide River Severn before, and it hadn’t been something I’d wanted to repeat. Ever.

He nodded. “The ferry would be much quicker, even if it has to go back and forth several times to fetch all our men over.” He had the hood of his cloak thrown back, and a slight breeze ruffled his hair as well as mine. A relief from the sultry summer heat that had descended as soon as the rain stopped. “If we take the road west from Caer Baddan, we’ll reach the ferry tomorrow. Instead of crossing straight over, the ferryman can let his boat drift downstream to Caer Legeion.”

“What?” My eyes shot wide open at the very thought of what he was suggesting. I’d had a morbid fear of water from the time I’d fallen in a neighbor’s swimming pool as a small child. “Drift miles down the river? Down theRiver Severn? It’s practically the sea.”

He nodded again. “The Sabrina River. Worth the risk to save several days riding and get to Arthur all the quicker.”

I shuddered. I might be the brave warrior queen inside my head, but that didnotextend to risking my life again in a rickety and very unseaworthy-looking ferry across one of the most dangerous stretches of water in the British Isles. “No, thank you very much. I think we’ll go by the bridges at Caer Gloui.”

Merlin’s dark brows knit– probably in frustration at my contrariness. “It’s nigh on a hundred miles to Caer Gloui, and once we’re over the bridges we’ll have to double back to Caer Went. That’s another thirty miles. A good three days of extra riding. And that might not even be where we have to head…”

I glared at him. “Quite frankly, I don’t care. Nothing is going to get me back in that leaky, wobbly old ferry.” I shivered as the memory surfaced of how we’d had to lead our horses over the makeshift gangplank. “King Coel will just have to wait that little bit longer. We go by Caer Gloui– and the bridges.”

Merlin shrugged. “If you’re sure…”

I glanced at the column of men behind us. “Yes, I’m sure.”

*

“You might havewarned me,” I said to Merlin, my voice brimming with accusation. We were standing with our backs to Caer Gloui’s tumbledown city walls, staring at the prospect before us. The city, or what remained of it that hadn’t been carted away to build field walls, houses and barns, sat on the eastern bank of the River Severn– Merlin’s Sabrina River. Its main west gates, behind us now, still stood, mostly in situ, although the upper levels had already been partly looted.

Before us stretched the low-lying lands that surrounded Caer Gloui, the city the Romans had called Glevum and that would become Gloucester in my time. Now I could see the reasoning behind that nursery rhyme my mother had sung to me as a child–Dr. Foster went to Gloucester in a shower of rain. He stepped in a puddle right up to his middle, and never went there again. It had been raining on and off for several weeks, and if Dr. Foster had happened along, he’d most definitely have been up to his middle in a lot of places.

Across this expanse of very wet wetlands rose a couple of uninviting wooden bridges. Well, to be fair, stone supports and wooden superstructures. But in between them the raised causeway, theaggerthe Roman road ran on, in places lay submerged under what could well be several feet of murky flood water. But it was the state of the nearest bridge I was berating Merlin for. From where we stood, the fact it had seen far better days was glaringly obvious.