Page 73 of The Bear's Heart
Cei ignored the missile. “You are charged that instead of taking the orphaned children of Caer Baddan into your care, you did willfully order their deaths and enslavement. This is against the laws of the Council of Kings, and against the orders of your liege lord. For this you will stand trial here, on this day, before the people of Din Cadan and the warriors of King Arthur.”
Another rotten vegetable missed Melwas, landing with a soft splat at his feet, and a third hit him in the middle of the back. Several more flew through the air, encouraged, no doubt, by the success of the instigators.
Arthur held up his hand imperiously. “Enough. He is to stand trial. You must await my judgement.”
The scorn on Melwas’s face was written large and clear. He despised Arthur for his intervention, despised all of us, perhaps, for not having killed him when we could.
Cei lowered his tablet. “Melwas, sometime-king of the Isle of Frogs, do you admit the charges brought against you?” He paused. “Be advised; confession may make your punishment less severe.”
Melwas, ignoring the fact that he was now festooned in rotting vegetable matter, spun slowly on the spot with a sneer on his face, as though he were the king and not our prisoner, to survey the watching crowd who were slavering for his demise. Finally, he returned his gaze to the front, not to Cei, his prosecutor, but to Arthur, and then to me. He flashed me a conspiratorial smile.
“I demand my right,” his voice rang out across the crowd, “as laid down by the Council of Kings, to trial by combat.”
The crowd erupted, everyone talking at once, excited and angry at the same time. No doubt, though, they relished the idea of the spectacle of Melwas fighting for his life in front of them.
Arthur got to his feet, his jaw set. He held up his left arm and waited until the crowd fell silent. Before him, Melwas stood, a smirk on his cold face, watching not Arthur, but me.
Arthur looked at Melwas, who took his eyes off me long enough to return his gaze. “You have a right, as you say, to trial by combat. You may choose a champion if you wish, to fight for your honor, or you may fight yourself if none will stand for you…” He looked over Melwas’s head at the sea of hostile faces. Not a one would offer themselves to fight for such a man.
After a pause, Arthur went on. “And I will supply a champion to fight you. If you win, then you will go free, all of your crimes washed away. If you lose, then as a guilty man, proven in the eyes of God, you will die, if you are not already dead.”
Melwas drew himself up a little taller. “I have no need of a champion.” His voice dripped with scorn. “I will fight for my honor myself. And I demand that the man I fight is you, Arthur Pendragon, my accuser. I will fight no one but you.”
A hiss of disapproval sibilated through the watching crowd. Arthur was their king. This man was their enemy. How dare a prisoner demand to fight their king? And yet, perhaps it felt right that their king should stand for all of them against this child killer. Their thoughts struck against me in a tidal wave of emotion.
I rose to my feet, putting my hand on Arthur’s arm. I leaned close. “Don’t do it.” I kept my voice low. “It’s too dangerous. Deny him trial by combat or choose a champion of your own. Don’t fight him yourself.”
“And if I win,” Melwas said into the near silence, “then I’ll take your queen with me when I leave. She seemed to like it at Dinas Brent.”
Arthur shook my arm off. “Yes, I’ll fight you.” His face was suffused with anger. “And when you’re dead I’ll burn your stronghold down and drive your people out. I’ll leave no trace of your existence on God’s earth.” He waved a hand at Cei. “Take him away and prepare him. We’ll get this over and done with now.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“What did yousay you’d do that for?” Merlin shouted. It was the first time I’d ever heard him raise his voice in anger. We were inside the great hall and Cei was helping Arthur put his armor on. I stood alone beside the smoldering fire, but nothing could dispel the cold that was creeping over me as I watched my husband arm himself for a fight he didn’t need to have.
Arthur glared at Merlin. “Because I want to have the pleasure of killing him myself. God will be on my side.” He was calmer now, his voice more measured. I hoped he was thinking straight enough to avoid any stupid mistakes when he met Melwas outside in front of our people.
Merlin looked across at me. “Ask him not to do this.” Exasperation had etched lines of worry across his face, leaching the youth from him and giving him the look of the much older man he really was. “He’ll do it for you.”
Would he?
Unconvinced, I moved away from the fire and put my hand on Arthur’s arm, my fingers touching the cold chainmail above his elbow. “Please don’t do this. Name your own champion. It’s too dangerous. He goaded you into this– it’s what he wants. He won’t fight fair, I know he won’t.” I bit my bottom lip in consternation. “Think of your son. If you lose, and Melwas takes me for himself, he’ll kill your heir.” Llacheu’s little face came into my head. “Allyour heirs.”
Arthur shook my hand off. “Do you think I’ll lose then?” He glared at me and then at Merlin. Cei wisely held his tongue and handed Arthur his helmet.
My heart felt as though it were beating in my throat. He was never going to listen to me. He was too much a man of his time to listen to a woman, no matter how much he loved her. No matter how much she loved him. And I knew now that I’d really loved him right from the start, from the first moment I’d met him, returning bloodied but victorious after defeating Saxon raiders. Loved him when he’d bested his brother and gained his kingdom. Loved him when he’d walked away from the sword Merlin had set in the stone in the forum at Viroconium without even trying to draw it. Loved him when he’d taken me back to Glastonbury Tor because he thought I wanted to return to my own world, despite the way he felt about me.
As time stood still about me, I looked at his angry eyes, his lowered brows, the set of his jaw, and saw the determination to have his revenge written clear on his face.
“He’s a trickster,” Merlin said, unconstrained by any fear of his lord’s temper. “He’ll use every trick up his sleeve to defeat you. And he doesn’t intend just to win– he intends to kill you.”
Arthur gave a shrug. “And I him.”
I clasped my hands to stop them trembling, acutely aware he’d chosen to fight because of me. He couldn’t have missed the looks Melwas had been giving me. That Melwas had done so on purpose to goad Arthur into single combat was obvious. Fear crawled along my spine as I remembered Melwas’s daily sword practice when I was his prisoner– his vanquishing of any warrior that came against him. Arthur was an expert swordsman too, but was he as good as Melwas?
The thought that this was already written, something that was history in my time, rose in my mind then dropped away. It was not a story I’d ever heard. Had I somehow changed the course of history with my butterfly wings of doom? Was it possible Arthur could die, here and now, this very day, and never live to become the king of legend? And would it be my fault?
The thought that I might lose him lay not far from the surface, a cold fear snaking around my entrails. Never had I felt so unsure of the legends I knew, never doubted them so much. Surely the hand of fate that had brought me to Glastonbury Tor to be transported back to the Dark Ages couldn’t take him from me so callously? The man I loved. A love so strong it had stretched its hand across time to bring me to him. I wanted to throw myself into his arms, implore him to change his mind, but I knew that would make no difference.
