Page 31 of The Quest for Excalibur
“What will you do with the girl?” I asked, standing up as well.
Arthur and Merlin exchanged glances. “She’s a witch, in league with a witch,” Arthur said.
Merlin nodded. “She can’t be allowed to live.”
Had I really expected anything different? But freshly back from a world with perhaps more mercy than this one, I quailed at their cold judgement.
I frowned, my gaze traveling from Arthur’s face to Merlin’s. “Isn’t that a bit hypocritical?” I fixed my eyes back on Arthur. “Your own sister is a witch, and you do nothing. And yet you’re ready to condemn this girl to death? Just because she’s poor and has no other worth.”
“She tried to murder you,” Arthur said, voice coldly calm. “I’m not condemning her for her magic, if indeed she has any at all. I’m condemning her for what she tried to do to you– my queen.” He paused, reaching out a hand to take mine. “The woman I love.”
Why was I arguing for this girl’s life? Maybe because I came from a world where execution no longer existed. But he had it right. She’d meant to kill me. But it hadn’t been her own idea. Morgana had asked her to. Did I want to be merciful? Would she have been to me, with her sly flirty looks at my husband and her evident ambition to replace me?
“But she didn’t succeed, did she?” I said. “I’m here. Alive.”
“Her intent was to kill,” Merlin said, his voice icy cold.
Arthur tightened his grip on my hand. “What would you have me do with her then? Pardon her and send her on her way, back to my sister? So together they can hatch another plot? Another way to harm us?” His eyes flashed with anger. “Or maybe we should just go on keeping her in the lockup indefinitely? Or cut off her hand as we do to common thieves? Or brand her and send her on her way?” He caught my arm. “She intended to take you from me, Gwen. And I won’t tolerate that. I love you too much.”
The ground under my feet shifted like quicksand. “Can’t we lock her up for a while in a prison?” A silly question. When had I ever seen a prison here?
Merlin shook his head. “She’s in our prison right now. We have nowhere else to keep her. Surely you don’t want us to keep her there forever?”
I stared at their implacable faces, knowing they were right. Where could we send her? What sort of punishment existed other than death or mutilation? Could I stand by and let them execute her for doing as Morgana had instructed? She’d been a pawn in that woman’s hands, even if she had fancied stealing my husband for herself.
“Nuns,” I said, inspiration seizing me. “Send her to a convent. Like Cadwy’s mother.”
Two sets of eyes opened wide to stare at me. “To the nuns?” echoed Merlin.
“Lucky nuns,” Arthur said, a chuckle suddenly in his voice.
“There are nuns, aren’t there?” I asked, not quite so sure of myself.
Arthur nodded. “There are. A few convents of them, here and there. You’re right when you say Cadwy’s mother was sent to one when my father put her aside to marry my mother.” He paused. “If you’re certain you don’t want us to put an end to her, that is?”
I compressed my lips and nodded. “She meant to kill me, but she didn’t succeed. She was Morgana’s tool in this, I’m sure. Shut her up in a convent. For life. That’ll be punishment enough for a girl like her– shut away from men forever. Perhaps she’ll learn humility and goodness.”
A grin spread over Arthur’s face. “I doubt that very much. But you’re right. Just retribution.”
Cei nodded. “She won’t be practising her wiles on anyone again.”
Lucky nuns indeed.
Chapter Fifteen
My bruises faded,the stitched cut on my forehead healed in the shape of a crescent moon, and spring morphed into early summer. Arthur, despite his claims that he had to trust Cadwy, despatched more spies to Viroconium to check up on what his brother was up to with all this feverish arms-making. Which made me wonder how many spies Cadwy himself might have here in Din Cadan.
The kings might come together at the Council of Kings without hostility, but that didn’t mean they weren’t constantly plotting against one another. As High King, Arthur was likely to be the one most plotted against, and he and Merlin had a network of spies across every kingdom. Very MI5 and James Bond.
With the fine weather, the boys and their friends were out every day practising sword fighting, or charging on horseback with their short lances at the wooden targets. Their every spare moment seemed to be spent on horseback, if not within the walls, then outside them. They liked nothing better than galloping across the grazing lands and annoying the shepherds and their flocks. It disconcerted me how they were growing up much faster than I’d have liked.
A few new recruits to our army arrived from other kingdoms, lanky boys and young men in the first flush of their youth, eager to join the High King’s famous army. Arthur spent long hours training them, leaving me to ride out with Archfedd and Reaghan, often accompanied by Merlin. We always took an escort with us, sometimes including a few of the boys in training to give them experience at the duties warriors had to undertake.
From time to time this included young Llawfrodedd, the boy from Breguoin. He’d filled out on good food, grown taller, gained muscle from his training, and no longer resembled a skinny stalk of grass. Archfedd particularly liked riding with him, as he talked to her as though she, too, were a boy, showing none of the scorn Medraut felt for her, and that too frequently Amhar copied.
“When I’m older,” she said to Llawfrodedd as we ambled through the forest edge on a winding path above the lower lying marshlands. “I’m going to learn sword fighting like my mami.”
Llawfrodedd put his hand on his own sword where it hung at his hip, a possession he was proud of. They were riding just in front of me where I could easily overhear their conversation. “’Tis a useful skill for anyone.”
