Page 53 of The Dragon Ring
“She’s not married to him,” Morgana interjected.
Arthur shifted beside me. Was it because he felt as unwilling as I did to be coerced into a marriage to fulfill a bloody prophecy?
The old man’s eyes slid sideways to look at Cadwy, who was standing, hands on hips, an angry frown etched onto his face. Uthyr licked his dry lips. “Send for Dubricius.”
There was a long moment when Uthyr held his elder son’s rebellious gaze, and I thought Cadwy was considering whether to disobey his father. And then Cadwy caved in. He walked to the door, and I heard him tell Euddolen to send for the archbishop.
The dying king emitted a deep sigh and closed his eyes. For a long minute the bedclothes remained unmoving and then at last he took a rasping breath. He was asleep.
Arthur got to his feet, his jaw set. Breanna hobbled up to the bed and with a wary glance toward the brothers, drew up a low wooden stool and took Arthur’s place beside me.
Arthur walked toward his brother.
I looked at Breanna. “What’s wrong with the king? What’s he dying of?” Memories of my own father’s deathbed swarmed in on me.
Arthur stopped in front of Cadwy, feet squarely planted, as openly aggressive as his brother. There was no brotherly love between them at all, only simmering sibling rivalry and machismo. From her position on the far side of the bed, Morgana watched them, her tongue caught between her teeth in expectation, her thoughts written clearly on her face. She was excited. She wanted them to fight. She’d been waiting for this.
Breanna put out a frail hand and smoothed the High King’s brow. “These ten year ago my sweet Lord took a wound from a spear ’igh up ’is leg– in the groin.” The air rattled in his laboring lungs. “It never ’ealed. Got ulcerated and ’e could never sit an ’orse again.”
That would have been a crippling blow to any man in the Dark Ages, but surely even worse for the High King himself. My gaze flicked toward Arthur and Cadwy. They both stood motionless, glaring at one another.
“It’s troubled ’im bad ever since, it ’as, but this year it got worse.” The bony hand in mine felt cold and already dead. Dark patches spotted his scrawny neck, like vicious bruises. “The ulcer spread. His ’ole leg began to go black. Then it moved onto ’is body. That’s what the smell is, me dear, that’s what the smell is.”
If only they’d had antibiotics. Though it was probably too late now for them. Was it gangrene? Most likely.
I looked again at Arthur and Cadwy. Arthur was the taller of the two, but Cadwy the more powerfully built. The padded tunic and mail shirt bulked Arthur out, but Cadwy still looked twice as wide.
Cadwy broke the silence between them with an angry snarl. “I didn’t think you’d have the barefaced cheek to show yourself here, after all these years.”
Arthur bristled in response. “It wasn’t my father that kept me away. It was you, poisoning him against me. I’d have been here all the sooner if you’d been gone.”
“Well, I am here, and you’d better get used to it. I’ve been Father’s War Leader since he took that wound– when you were just a boy. I’m the one the soldiers follow– the one who makes the decisions here.”
Arthur sneered. “That’ll be why the Saxons are making such inroads to the East then, won’t it? Because you’re the War Leader and they’re scared of you.”
I thought Cadwy was going to hit him. His hands balled into great fists by his sides and the tendons in his neck tightened. His face suffused with blood. His eyes bulged.
“And what about the West?” he snapped back, “Have you been so successful in keeping out the Irish?”
“At least I’m not employing Saxons as Foederati to help my warriors do their jobs. I’ve met with your Saxons, and I wasn’t impressed. Did you think I wouldn’t know you sent them? Did you think I’d take it lying down?” He turned and gestured at Morgana. “Did you think I wouldn’t know it was she who warned you of our arrival?”
Cadwy seized on that last sentence. “You’ve got Merlin. I need someone with the Sight. She’s more gifted than Merlin, and she’s mine.”
“She only knows what Merlin taught her,” countered Arthur. “And that won’t have been everything he knows, by any means.”
“She saw the coming of the Lady of the Ring,” Cadwy spat. “She warned me you were bringing her.”
“So you could prepare a reception committee.”
“You’ve no proof of that.”
“Do I need it?”
“I’m the favored son. I’m the firstborn. I told you– it’s me the men follow.”
Arthur gave a scornful snort of laughter. “Not out of choice. D’you think they’d be so keen to do so if there was a choice? D’you think they wouldn’t turn to me if I called them?”
“They’re my men. They know where their allegiance lies.”
