Page 39 of Warrior Queen
Putting my own hands in his, I felt the familiar calluses on his palms, the roughness of his fingers. The hands not of a High King in a palace, but of a warrior who fought alongside his men, who led the battle charges from the front, who ensured his men were fed and cared for before ever thinking of himself.
He pulled me to my feet, and I came willingly.
As he stood a good five inches taller than me, I had to tip my head back to keep on gazing into his eyes.
The twitch at the corner of his mouth became a small smile. “When will you ever learn to be a proper wife?” But he, too, had lost his anger. His voice, low and gentle, held just a hint of loving mockery. His hands slid up my arms to my shoulders. “I’m sorry I was angry with you. It’s because I love you so much. I thought that Irishman was going to kill you, and I was too far away to save you.”
Cei snorted. “It’s only thanks to Anwyll, and his prowess with a bow, that she’s here still.”
I took a breath, wanting to kiss the hurt from Arthur’s bloodied lip. “I’m sorry, too. I only came because I love you. Not because I want to control you.” I paused. “I want to be able to see you for myself– every day. Be with you.” I lifted one of my hands and set it on his mail shirt, over his heart. “I…I sometimes feel my time with you is just borrowed.”
“For God’s sake,” Cei said, in disgust. “Give her a kiss and have done with it.”
A few shouts of encouragement echoed around the fireside.
Arthur’s battered mouth curved into a smile that reached his eyes at last. “Come here then, and kiss your husband. Your men want you to.” He pulled me closer and, bending his head, kissed me softly, perhaps a little wary of the hurt on his own mouth.
The men cheered.
“It was her idea to get to the town before the Irish raiders,” Merlin’s voice said, out of the darkness. “Without her determination, most of the townspeople would have died.”
Arthur and I parted, his hand going to the cut on his lip that had begun to bleed again.
Merlin stood beside the fire, grinning. “And she has another good idea she wants to tell you about.”
We all sat down again, me next to Arthur, after some judicious juggling of seats– like a children’s party game of musical chairs– and Merlin on his other side. Someone passed us plates of roasted mutton and bread. We ate, suddenly ravenous. Then Merlin and I outlined the idea I’d formed about a British Pony Express.
Arthur, and all the warriors around our fire, listened with rapt attention, his arm draped around my shoulders, holding me close, his body warm against mine, stoking my internal glow. After we’d finished, a murmur of conversation arose, as everyone talked at once.
Arthur held up his hand. “She’s truly the Luck of Arthur,” he began. “And the brains.” The men all chuckled, as they continued to pass around the cider. Probably most of them were more than a bit drunk by now, as the supply of cider seemed never-ending.
He turned to me. “The idea’s a good one. The Romans had something like this, but it fell out of use long ago. Our only problem will be the number of kingdoms and their difficult kings we have to persuade to join us in this. At least the Romans ruled a single province here– unlike us.” He grinned. “But I have the advantage of being High King, and, supposedly, what I say, goes. We can but try. I’ll bring it up at the next Council. For now, though, we’ll have to bide our time and wait for better communications.” He chuckled. “And cross our fingers.”
The fire had reduced to glowing embers by the time we all retired to our beds. Arthur took my hand and led me to where he’d laid out his own bedroll, and spread mine beside it. Having taken off our mail shirts, we lay down fully dressed, me on my side, him curled around me from behind, his face close enough to my ear to warm it with his breath. All around us the rest of the men– bar those on guard duty in case the Irish came sneaking back in the dark– lay down to sleep.
Despite the hard ground and how dirty I felt, a veil of contentment settled over me, warming my heart and chasing away the fears I had for everyone I loved in this dangerous world. Arthur’s arm draped over my body, his hand cupping my left breast through the rough fabric of my tunic, his body warm against my back. If only my life could continue like this forever, with Arthur as close to me as this, and as safe.
People in my old world, and probably in this one too, often talked about wanting to know the future– horoscopes, palm reading, divination. But the reality of knowing the future was a huge weight to bear. As I snuggled against my husband’s warm body, I wished with all my might that I didn’t know his.
*
The morning broughtanother fine day. We had no time to help the inhabitants of Breguoin rebuild their town. Ahead of us, we had a long hard ride to get to Ebrauc.
“I ought to send you back to Din Cadan,” Arthur said, as we ate a quick breakfast of bread and cheese together. “But if I do, I’ll have to send a sizeable escort with you. There’re brigands in this forest, as well as wolves.”
“Wolves?” I’d heard them once, a long time ago, at night, but far away.
He nodded. “Didn’t you hear them last night?”
I shook my head, eyes wide with sudden fear. “They were here?”
“Yes. If you care to take a look at the pile of enemy dead we stacked outside the town walls yesterday, you’ll see there’s a bit less of them. A pack came down from the forest in the night, attracted by the scent of blood. You were sleeping so soundly, I suppose you didn’t hear them howling.”
Thank goodness. With my knowledge of how low the town walls were, I’d never have got back to sleep again if I’d woken to hear that.
“The horses? Were they all right?” I meant Alezan, of course. My special horse.
He swallowed his last lump of cheese. “The men were guarding them, but they were restless. The wolves weren’t after live prey, though– not when they had a pile of fleshy bones to pick over.”
