Page 68 of Warrior Queen
Standing a little apart, Morgawse rested a restraining hand on Medraut’s dark head, as he stood squarely in front of her, arms folded and scowling, probably having refused to hold anyone’s hand. A distinct look of his uncle Cadwy clung to him.
My heart, that I’d been ignoring as much as I could on our journey home, ached anew at the sight of Coventina, dread of the confrontation to come curdling my insides. Instinct told me how she must be feeling– that poignant mixture of relief that your man was home, mixed with the anxiety of not knowing if he was unharmed. The search for his face amongst the crowd of warriors, the delight in spotting him at last. The soaring joy when he came striding toward you to take you in his arms.
Or the bottomless pit of despair when he wasn’t there. This had never happened to me, of course, and Arthur had always come riding home, but my imagination could supply me with how it must feel to suddenly realize your worst nightmare had come true. I averted my gaze from Coventina’s hopeful figure, as she strained to study the crowd of returning warriors.
At the stables, Cei dismounted, squared his shoulders, and silently passed his horse’s reins to a waiting servant. My gaze drawn as if by a magnet, I had to watch. With heavy footsteps, Cei began the short walk uphill to the Hall. How he must be dreading what he had to do, every step he took laden with doom, drawing him closer to having to tell his wife she’d never see her child again.
A kind of fatal fascination kept me watching, the horror of what Cei had to do burning like a hot coal in my insides. A wide smile of relief blazed across Coventina’s homely face as she spotted her husband. Then she must have seen his expression. Her own faltered. The smile faded, dropping away. Her eyes flew wide as she let the cross slip from suddenly slack fingers. Her mouth hung open.
Finally, I dragged my eyes away. This was too raw, too private. Not my place to watch. The thought that one day this would be me, without any doubt, gouged its way into my heart, a wound that refused to be denied and could never be healed.
Slithering down from Alezan onto shaky legs, I shoved her reins into the hands of a passing servant. Should I go to Coventina?
Without waiting for Arthur, I hurried after Cei.
He’d halted in front of his wife. He must have spoken, told her. She collapsed into his arms, fingers clawing at his body, and a low, unearthly wail rose into air that had become oppressive in that instant. Heads turned, Keelia’s hand went to her mouth, Reaghan and Archfedd began to cry. Amhar looked up at Maia in concern, his lower lip beginning to wobble. Only Medraut was unmoved, a sly smile creeping across his cherubic face.
Cei swept Coventina, who wasn’t small, up into his arms as though she was a child, and, leaving everyone else standing on the platform, strode into the courtyard beside the hall and kicked his front door open. It swung shut behind them with a bang, but the terrible wailing continued, scarcely muffled by the walls.
Below the hall, more wailing rose in concert, as other women discovered their men had not returned. Children cried. Even a dog joined in and howled.
I reached the platform and, bending down, scooped a surprised Amhar into my arms to hold him tight against my chest, breathing in his grubby, small-boy smell. Never would I agree to him going to war. Never. The grief of losing a child was something I could never bear.
Footsteps. Running footsteps. Llacheu came galloping up the road from where he must have watched our arrival from the wall-walk, his eyes wide with shock as he looked from my face to Maia’s and Keelia’s stricken ones.
“What is it?” His voice rose in panic, his head swiveling as he searched our faces. “Where’s father? Is it him?”
“No.” I held out my hand. “It’s not your father. He’s in the stables.”
Keelia shoved Rheagan into Maia’s arms. “I have to go to the mistress.” And she was gone.
Llacheu stared with wide, frightened eyes, but he didn’t take my offered hand. “Then what is it?”
“Come inside, and I’ll tell you there. In private.”
He shook his head, his long hair rattling with the beads someone had threaded into it. Not his mother. She no longer lived here inside the fortress. Maybe Coventina, unable to do that any more for Rhiwallon. “No. Tell me here. Now.”
I tried to take his arm, but he shook me off.
A furious glare settled on his face, disconcertingly like a smaller version of his father when angry. “Whatisit?”
More footsteps. I swung around. Arthur appeared by my side, and Llacheu’s accusing gaze leapt from me to his father. “Why will no one tell me what’s wrong?”
Llacheu was eleven now, and over five feet tall. Arthur didn’t need to bend down to talk to him any longer. Instead, he put his hands on his son’s shoulders, holding him firmly as he faced him.
“You’re nearly a man, Llacheu, and with manhood come responsibilities and things you have to face. Like a man.”
The face glaring back at Arthur was not a man’s, though. Soft still with the lines of childhood, no teenage acne, no fine down on his upper lip or chin. His lower lip wobbled. A child.
Arthur’s fingers had him tight. “We fought a battle. To keep Britain, and all the kingdoms in it, safe. Many of our men gave their lives, fighting for this cause. Brave men. Heroes. Rhiwallon amongst them. He’s not coming home. He’s dead.”
Llacheu’s face crumpled, his mouth twisting in something between fury and despair. “No!” he cried, writhing in his father’s grasp. “You’re lying. He’s not. He can’t be.” He glared at his father in impotent rage. “He’s myfriend!”
Arthur gave him the smallest of shakes. “Stop it. You’re my son. Everyone is watching you. You must face this like a man.”
I moved toward them, but Arthur turned his head and fixed me with a glare to rival his son’s. “No. Leave this to me. He’s nearly a man grown and needs to behave like one.”
I bit my lip, holding Amhar closer to me, his baby cheek pressed to mine. Eleven wasnotnearly a man. This was a child, a bereaved child. Unable to hug Llacheu close, I enfolded Amhar in his place, tears running down my cheeks.
