Page 45 of Warrior Queen
A wide room, with a black and white mosaic underfoot, opened up before us. Now evening had fallen, torches blazed from iron brackets, giving each of us the multiple long shadows of a crowd. The frescoed walls told the story of Theseus and the minotaur in the labyrinth at Knossos. This splendid room had to be the king’s audience chamber.
At the far end, a platform a couple of feet high held a single elaborately carved wooden throne. On the throne sat an old man.
Not an old man like King Manogan of Linnuis– gnarled and bitter and obsessed by religion and his church. No, this old man resembled nothing if not a silvery lion. He sat upright on his throne, posed as if he’d been expecting us, in rich red robes, the tunic that hung to below his knees decorated with gold thread and jewels.
His mane of thick white hair hung down to mingle with his ample snowy beard, and bushy white brows jutted over sea-blue eyes that fixed us with a gimlet glare. If he hadn’t been so stern and imposing, he’d have made a good Father Christmas. But no air of benevolence clung to him, and he’d probably have terrified any child who’d come to him asking for a present.
The words of the nursery rhyme that preserved his memory leapt into my head.Old King Cole was a merry old soul. No, he wasn’t. That much was very clear.
Arthur strode up the chamber toward the throne, and Cei, Merlin, and I followed in his wake, dragged along like flotsam on the tide. Our accompanying warriors remained standing by the door. Arthur halted just in front of the throne, but didn’t bow. Hewasthe High King, after all.
Coel regarded him from under those splendid brows as silence stretched between us. Then he set his hands, gnarled like old roots, on the arms of his throne and slowly rose to his feet, the stiffness of his movements betraying his extreme age. His head inclined so slightly I almost missed it. Probably an old king like him felt such a young man as Arthur, unproven as yet in his eyes, didn’t merit more than that, even if he was the High King.
Arthur mirrored the nod.
I glanced across at Merlin, but he had his eyes fixed on Coel.
Coel stepped down from his platform and up to Arthur. The two men faced one another– the young man and the old. Most likely Coel had once been as tall as Arthur, but now had shrunk with age. Arthur topped him by several inches.
Coel cleared his throat. “You came.”
Arthur inclined his head. “You called.”
Now he was standing, the king’s great age was even more apparent. He had a slight stoop to his wide, bony shoulders that could have been caused by osteoporosis, and up close a multitude of fine wrinkles fissured his skin. Heavy bags hung under his eyes, and age spots sprinkled his face and hands.
His gaze moved past Arthur to rest on me. I’d taken off my mail shirt and helmet before we left our camp, but still wore my boy’s clothing and had my sword hanging at my belt.
“And I see you’ve brought the Ring Maiden.”
Arthur held out his hand to me. “My wife and queen– Guinevere.”
I stepped closer, taking the proffered hand and making a bigger bow than either man had done. I was only a queen and knew my place. Or at least, I wanted them to think I did. “My Lord Coel.”
When I raised my head, I found his blue eyes, still bright despite his age, fixed on me, a mixture of curiosity and what might well have been admiration in them. “My Lady Guinevere.”
A smile hovered on his thin lips for a moment, hinting at the man he’d once been, and I smiled back. Was that a twinkle in his eyes? Did I need to revise my initial opinion? Then his gaze returned to Arthur. “I have had rooms prepared for you and your generals. My servants will take them there.” He paused. “You and I have much to discuss. I’ll have food brought to my chambers and we’ll talk there.” His eyes slid back to me. “I think your most unusual wife should join us.”
My eyes widened in surprise. Not many men wanted women at their councils. The glint in his eyes suggested it probably wasn’t my brains he was interested in, though.
Arthur shot me a quick, appraising glance, then nodded. “My men are tired after the long ride here. Can you arrange for refreshment to be brought to their rooms?”
Coel snapped his fingers. From a door to the left of the throne three servants hurried out. They must have been waiting for his summons. A few quick words to them, and Arthur and I were separated from Cei, Merlin, and our guards.
Worry clouded Merlin’s face as he was escorted out, glancing back over his shoulder at me and Arthur. It went against the grain for him to abandon his lord in another king’s stronghold. Coel could look and sound like an ally, but the danger that he wasn’t remained ever present in this world of petty rivalries and long-lasting disputes.
I swallowed down my misgivings and followed Arthur and Coel through the door the servants had emerged from, into what must have been Coel’s suite of private rooms.
The first we came to held a large square table, its surface silvered and smooth with age, with substantial, high-backed chairs scattered around it. Two more servants stood in a corner. A click of the king’s fingers sent them scurrying away. My stomach rumbled. Hopefully they’d gone to fetch food.
They had. Half a dozen of them returned laden with platters of delicious smelling meats, and side dishes smothered in rich sauces, which they set down on the table where we’d taken our places. Wine arrived in tall earthenware pitchers, and loaves of bread, with olives and dried figs in beautiful bowls. Coel waved his servants away, leaving us to eat alone, with no one to overhear our conversation.
“Please, eat,” Coel said to me. “You look hungry.” He’d positioned us one on either side of him, so he’d probably heard my stomach rumbling. Blushing, I took some of the offered venison the servants had already sliced up into thick gobbets, dripping with sauce.
When we were all eating, Arthur turned the conversation to military matters. “You sent for me because you needed help. Perhaps you’d better outline the situation here and tell me how things have progressed since your messengers came to Din Cadan.”
My ears pricked, even though I guessed I’d be left out of this. My opinion meant nothing to this king– only my looks and biological function mattered. I’d long ago grown used to Dark Age sexist attitudes. No point in complaining about something that was rife. Besides which, the food was excellent, and I was still starving. I helped myself to more, quite glad I didn’t have to talk. But my ears were flapping.
Coel set down his knife. There were no forks. It was strictly knives and fingers in the fifth century, helped by lumps of bread and maybe a small spoon. “The Saxons have been raiding up and down our coast all summer long. Far more than normal. Never in the same place twice, but here and there, where they’ve drawn their keels up on a beach and attacked the local fishermen. Sometimes they’ve dared to march inland. A lot of churches have been fired and priests killed. Pagan bastards. I’ve had to spread my men thin to try to intercept them. My bishop, Exuperius, is at me all the time to strike back at them for their desecration of his churches.”
