Page 71 of The Dragon Ring
Albina glared at her sister. “I’m not stupid. You are. Well, the High Kings have come from Powys for a really long time. Before Uthyr, it was his brother Ambrosius, and then, before him it was the Usurper.” She gave a shrug. “Heraclion, our tutor, showed me a map of Britain and said this was like somewhere called Delphi, near where he was born. He said Viroconium is the navel of Britain.”
Heraclion must be a Greek. So, in a fledgling way Britain was as cosmopolitan in the Dark Ages as it was in my time. I’d like to get a look at Heraclion’s map. I could probably tell him a thing or two about the shape of the British Isles that he wouldn’t know, even as an educated Greek.
But should I? At the moment, I’d really done very little in the past except for fulfilling part of an old prophecy, which might mean I was supposed to be here, which in itself might mean that anything I did shouldn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Could it? Could I do that classic kill-your-grandfather thing?
“What happens at a Council of Kings? Who comes?” I needed some information on this, as it was due to happen the very next day.
Albina gave her sister a triumphant glare. “All the kings come, of course, with their retinues. And lots of really important men– their advisors. Lots of young warriors, too. Sons of important men. They bring all sorts of people with them.”
“And some are here already?”
She nodded. “Mother says King Cadwy told Father to send out messengers to all the kings when he realized King Uthyr was dying. She says he wants to strike while the iron is hot and get himself elected High King after his father.”
But he’d sent no one to tell his brother in far off Dumnonia. Theodoric had been forced to sneak away with his small force of men and ride hell for leather to Din Cadan.
Albina went on. “Father says they’re being housed all over the city. The ones that arrive today will have to make camp outside the walls. There isn’t room for them all.”
Cloelia interrupted– again. “Normally not every king comes. Sometimes they just can’t be bothered– Father says– and sometimes they have other things they have to be doing. But this time, because it’s going to be an election, they’re all coming.”
Albina frowned at her. “We weren’t born when they had the last election, so we don’t really know how it happens. You could ask Father if you want to find out more.”
I could have, but I didn’t, mainly because he wasn’t around until that evening when we all ate together again in the warm dining room. He and Arthur had been absent all day and the only person I’d seen who I knew had been Merlin, and even he’d been distracted and disinclined to answer my questions.
Arthur was not at the meal, though, and Euddolen took the seat at the head of the table. I was still beside Theodoric, so after a while, I took my courage in both hands and asked where Arthur was.
Theodoric looked surprised I’d spoken. He’d been deep in a dull sounding discussion with Cei on the contrasting merits of hunting boar or deer.
“Matters of state,” was his terse reply, and he turned away from me and started talking to Cei again.
Well, that could have been anything. Theodoric certainly seemed to have no intention of enlightening me. Maybe the well-informed Albina knew what “matters of state” might entail. She was sitting almost opposite me, busily tucking into a plate of salted cod in garlic sauce.
However, just then a troop of agile jugglers arrived. They took everyone’s attention for the remainder of the meal, tossing balls into the air, juggling with fiery torches, doing somersaults and balancing on each other’s shoulders. And when they’d finished, it was time to retire to our bedchambers.
The oil lamps had been lit again and the room glowed golden in their light. But without Arthur’s vibrant presence, it felt empty and lonely, doubly so after last night. A maid came and unlaced my gown, and, wearing just my long undershirt, I climbed into the big bed alone. She extinguished most of the little lamps before she left, just leaving me the ones beside my bed and near the door, plunging the room into great wedges of shadow where no light penetrated between the islands of golden glow.
I lay back on my pillows on the comfortable bed. Probably after time it would develop lumpiness, but right now it was really very good.
But I was alone in it.
I hadn’t realized how much last night had meant to me. I wanted Arthur back here, warm and alive beside me. I was confused by the aching void in my heart, sure I didn’t love him. Nathan was the man I loved. The trouble was, he was far away, so far away I might never get back to him. I’d always thought it was human nature not to give up, even in the face of insurmountable odds. So I clung resolutely to the belief that there’d be a way back for me, just as there’d been a way here.
But Nathan’s face was fading. If I thought back to our last night together in the hotel in Glastonbury, I could only see the hump of his body in the bed, his tousled sandy hair on the pillow. I had to fight to conjure his image, and when it came it was just of a photograph hanging on the wall in our sitting room at home. He was on the beach in Tenerife last year, his hair wet from the sea, sand stuck to his skin, nose peeling slightly, sunglasses resting on the top of his head. I held that image to my heart as though it would bring me closer to him.
It didn’t.
I rolled onto my side and curled up, drawing my knees to my chest. Instead of Nathan’s face, Arthur’s rose before me. As he’d been this morning while we were still in bed. His dark eyes full of humor, crinkling at the corners, his grin infectious. I could still feel the warmth of his body under my hands. A little shiver of excitement coursed through me at the memory.
I shook myself crossly. Why was he so much more real than Nathan? I didn’t understand my feelings, and it upset me. I wanted to stay the woman I’d been when I’d climbed Glastonbury Tor, but it was a losing battle. I was changing, and there was nothing I could do about it.
I blew out the lamp on the stool beside the bed and closed my eyes. Sleep crept over me.
I was standing on a windswept hillside with mounted men all about me, carrying shields and wearing helmets, swords glinting in the sunlight. My own beast pranced beneath me, chaffing at the bit and impatient for the off, and I realized that I, too, had a shield and helmet, with a ferocious-looking sword gripped in my right hand.
A sea of faces swam all around me, close up, far away, milling. Arthur’s face came close. I wanted to shout to him, to tell him it was me, but he rode past without a backward glance, unrecognizing.
A battle horn sounded, deep and rich, echoing through my head. In the valley at the foot of the hill a mass of mounted soldiers galloped toward us. My vision zoomed to show me their faces, dark and angry. Their banner rippled in the wind; a red dragon leaping across a green field.
Suddenly, we were galloping down the hill. Hooves thundered, and the wind pulled at my hair, which streamed out behind me. I was filled with the lust for blood, uncontrollable and basic. Men shouted. I couldn’t hear the words. I wanted to shout too, but nothing came out. I was mute.
