Page 66 of The Dragon Ring
Her preparations took Ummidia a full twenty minutes, so a bit longer than a moment. At last, wearing a diaphanous gown beneath a fur-lined cloak, she was ready to go.
My stomach certainly was.
I was relieved to discover that we were not expected to lounge on indigestion-inducing couches to eat, but sat at a long trestle table in Euddolen’s dining room.
There was no need for a fire, thanks to the hypocaust, which, to judge from the pleasant warmth, must have been in full swing. Euddolen had given up his place at the head of the table to Arthur, who was sitting there in a somber tunic and braccae, a plain gold circlet in his dark hair. As we came in, he met my eyes just a tad defiantly and got to his feet. My heart gave a little skip and my cheeks warmed. I could still feel the heat of his lips on mine.
“My Lady Guinevere.” He held out his hand. I crossed to the table and took it, a little frisson coursing through my body at his touch. A servant pulled out a sturdy wooden chair for me. I was pleased to see there was a well-padded cushion on it. As graciously as possible, I took my place between my husband and Theodoric, who, if I was not mistaken, was already the worse for wear. Presumably he’d been wetting the baby’s head. Opposite me sat Euddolen, with his daughter Albina on his left between him and Cei. Ummidia took her place at the foot of the table, between Merlin and Cloelia.
It was a festive meal. The men were euphoric after their victory, and the women caught the mood. Conversation flowed. I learned that the troops had been fed and deployed to guard the house, the horses had been retrieved from the Imperial stables and were grazing in the pens that lay up against the city wall, and Cadwy was back in the palace licking his metaphorical wounds, accompanied by Morgana.
I was intrigued by the relationships between the three brothers and their two sisters. It would have given any modern reconstructed family a run for their money. So I asked Arthur about it.
He’d been drinking more than usual as the meal progressed. Not that I had a vast experience of his drinking habits. Perhaps his previous abstinences had been the exception, and this was the norm. He might be my husband, but I didn’t know him at all.
“Why don’t you get on?” I asked as I put down my knife with which I’d been cutting up roasted pork in a rich savory sauce. “You and Cadwy and Morgana? You and Cei seem good friends.”
He looked at me over his goblet, then carefully set it down on the table. Euddolen was listening to Theodoric’s version of the attack on us at the ruined way station the other night. It was turning out to be a very loud story. We couldn’t be overheard.
“It’s complicated.” Arthur’s eyes gave away nothing. Albina, ignored by her father and Theodoric, was staring up the table at us, but I ignored her. She must have realized who I was by now.
“Try me.”
He pulled a wry face. “Cadwy is the firstborn. My father was already married to Cadwy’s mother. He’d had other mistresses before, but my mother was different. Merlin told him so. He told my father he had to marry my mother and make me legitimate.”
So Merlin was in the habit of arranging marriages.
A servant leaned over us and filled our goblets to the brim again. I was feeling a bit squiffy myself, and more than a little attracted to Arthur. Triumph is a great aphrodisiac. He took another long draught of the wine, eyes glittering in the lamplight.
“So he put Cadwy’s mother aside. I think she went into a house of God. I don’t know.”
I had to admit, that was a pretty awful thing to do to a small boy just to ensure you got your way with another woman. A bit Henry the Eighth. Could I blame Cadwy for how he felt about the other woman’s son? I was still enough of an outsider to be able to see both sides in this argument.
“But didn’t your father kill Cei’s father so he could marry your mother?” I knew the story well. It was enough to make the most lurid soap opera seem tame.
He nodded.
“Then how come you get on so well with Cei?”
His dark eyes met mine, sending a pleasing shiver down my spine.
“I was brought up with him.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “He’s always been my brother. My proper brother, that is, with scarcely three years between us. There was never any rivalry. Cei always knew he would get Tintagel when he came of age. But he chooses to stay here with me. He leaves it to our mother to govern his people as she sees fit.”
Another course, this time of stuffed birds, was brought to the table, and he took one. I waved the servant with the tray away.
“Why is Cadwy jealous of you?”
He smiled, pulling the legs off the bird’s carcass with greasy fingers. “Because he is the son of a loveless marriage, and he’s always worried that I was our father’s favorite, because I’m my mother’s son. He’s always known his mother was put away so mine could become queen.”
He paused to take another mouthful of wine. “Cadwy was responsible for my exile in Din Cadan. My mother was long gone to Tintagel, but my father had already received the wound that would eventually bring about his death. Cadwy was a man grown and War Leader. He had power. I had no one to fight for me except Merlin. Cadwy accused me of treachery, of seeking to kill our father and trying to seize power. It was a lie.” He took a bite from one of the legs and was silent a moment, chewing.
“Did your father believe him?”
He gave a shrug. “If he had, would I be sitting here today with you? But he had to act. I was a constant trouble to him. I didn’t do what he wanted. He couldn’t rely on me. He needed a son he could rely on. Like Cadwy. All these things he said to me when I came to his quarters as an angry boy.”
He was silent again for a moment, reflecting on the past, his gaze fixed on somewhere distant.
“So he sent you away?”
