Page 37 of Warrior Queen
I loosened my grip on Merlin’s waist, setting my hands lightly on his hips instead, no longer needing the support clasping him had given. “Bringing you a message, that’s what.” If he was going to be angry with me, then I could be angry back. “Only you’re so hard to find I had to follow you all the way up from Caer Went. And then you weren’t even bloody well here, and the Irish army was.”
He glanced at his men, but most were out of hearing, some on foot moving between the dead and dying, finishing the Irish off with swift slashes of their knives. I’d seen the aftermath of battle too many times now. Every time it affected me, and I knew better than to look. Instead, I concentrated hard on Arthur, as around me groans were suddenly cut short.
Don’t look.
His face softened, but only slightly. “What is it with you that you always think you can do everything better than we men can?” His brows met in a heavy scowl. “Merlin could have brought the message just as easily as you. More easily. But no, you had to come and nearly get yourself killed when you should be home with our children. If we hadn’t seen you, and Anwyll hadn’t fired that shot, which was risky as that warrior was so close to you, you’d be lying with an axe in your skull like that priest over there.” He waved his hand to illustrate his point.
Don’t look.
Telling him how I’d got left behind while we were sensibly evacuating the town,at my suggestion, didn’t seem like a useful exercise right now. Merlin had probably told him what we’d done already. Anger took over, loosening my tongue more than was wise. “And if you had some kind of messaging system in place, I’d have known where to find you– or even been able to just send you the message without ever leaving Din Cadan.”
His eyes flashed. He was angrier with me than I’d ever seen him before. “Would you? Are you sure? Or was this just another excuse to come chasing me down? To keep an eye on me because you don’t trust me to look after myself?” His voice came out in an angry hiss, but he kept it low, no doubt conscious of not being somewhere private.
His men were keeping away on purpose now, eyeing us both warily from a distance. The fury must have been coming off us both in waves.
“If youcouldlook after yourself then I wouldn’t have to!” I retorted, getting angrier by the moment, to match him, but also keeping my voice low. This wasn’t the reunion I’d envisaged. I let go of Merlin altogether and slid to the ground, folding my arms across my chest, then, when I’d done it, recognizing it a classic defensive posture. “And someone stole my fucking horse.”
Llamrei sidestepped under Arthur’s too tight hold on her reins, tossing her head and showing the red inside her nostrils. “Fine. We’ll get her back. Then you can ride straight back to where you came from. I don’t want women with me on my campaigns.”
I turned away, biting back the tears that threatened to flow again. How had I messed up our reunion like this? Why was he so angry with me? And why was I so angry with him? That I was being an idiot was obvious, even to me, but so was he. I bit my lip and stayed silent.
Bloody Dark Age men.
Chapter Thirteen
The aftermath ofa big battle is always dreadful, not the joyous celebration you might imagine. Corpses, already beginning to stink in the hot sun, litter the battle site, and flies gather. The victors have to deal with not just their own casualties but also with disposing of the enemy dead.
Here, in Breguoin, we had to lure back the terrified townspeople to help with the clearing up, and they were nearly as afraid of us as they had been of the raiders. Not a surprise, really. Arthur’s warriors must have been as alien to them as the Irish. Soldiers from a different kingdom who’d fought a fierce battle in their town and left houses burned to smoking ruins and countless stinking dead to dispose of, including their priest.
In the end, young Peredur persuaded them to return. As almost a local boy, and with the blush of youth still on him, he had a pleasing presence that calmed the people. As night fell, they came creeping in through the north gateway in dribs and drabs to try to pick up the broken pieces of their lives.
I didn’t find the man who’d stolen Alezan. A small boy, no more than eight years old, dark haired and dark eyed, led her back. When asked, he told me he’d found her tied to a tree by her reins. Not wanting to leave her there alone, he’d taken her to his parents, probably hoping he might get to keep her. With little on me to offer as reward, I found a simple, oval, gold brooch, embossed with the dragon emblem of Dumnonia, that I wore sometimes with my gown.
I pressed it into his grimy little hands in front of his wide-eyed parents. “What’s your name?”
The boy stared up at me in awe. “Llawfrodedd, Milady Queen.”
“Well, Llawfrodedd, this is for you to keep for when you’re a man,” I said, giving the parents a hard stare. “My horse is worth far more than this to me, and I feared I’d lost her. Keep it safe. It’s proper gold and could even buy you a fine horse of your own one day, and a sword. Perhaps, then, you’ll become a warrior, like Peredur.”
The boy’s parents, the mother clutching a toddler by the hand and a snot-faced baby to her breast, stared at me in awe. Most likely they’d never seen gold before.
Peredur, who’d brought the boy to me, grinned, white teeth flashing in his filthy face. “It’s a fine life. You could do no better.” He gave the boy a jolting slap on the shoulder. “Come to Dumnonia when you’re older and fight for the High King, as I intend to do.”
The boy nodded, mouth open as wide as his eyes, small fingers clutching the brooch.
Now I had Alezan back, I felt a little less aimless and useless. I took her to the horse lines that had been set up in one of the fields inside the walls and spent a long time grooming and fussing over her, whispering my troubles into her receptive ears.
“Bloody men. So unappreciative. You’d think I’d committed a crime the way he treated me, instead of doing him a favor.” I rubbed her forehead. “Bad tempered git. A bit like you.” She nuzzled my front, probably hoping I had a treat for her. “Sometimes I wonder why I bother with trying to help.”
A few horses down from Alezan, Rhiwallon was working on his horse, as deep in conversation with her as I was with mine. The sight brought a much-needed smile to my face. I’d long since come to the conclusion that each warrior loved his horse as much as or more than he did his wife, and it seemed Rhiwallon was no different. The girl he’d rescued earlier had been hanging around him hopefully, but his horse came first in his affections.
Cei came stumping out of the gathering gloom of evening, leading his tired steed, his eyes roving over the horse lines.
“Father!” Rhiwallon raised a hand.
Cei’s face lit up. “Rhiwallon!” For a brief moment, father and son stood gazing at one another, before Cei opened his arms and Rhiwallon ran into them, a boy again, just for now. Cei held his son as the long seconds ticked by, arms tight around him, a glow of pride enveloping them both.
Embarrassed to witness this tender moment, I turned back to Alezan. Out of the corner of my eye I saw them separate, then push the horses apart and make a space where Cei could squeeze his horse in beside Rhiwallon’s. I brushed harder, conscious of a lump of solid emotion forming in my chest.
