Page 36 of The Quest for Excalibur
I nodded. “Owyn, Cahal and Iestyn.”
“Well, that’s because he can boss them about, and he likes being able to do that with older boys. In fact, he’s the leader amongst all the boys, and those three’re his chief heavies. He always makes Amhar do what he wants: running errands, fighting who he says, and they put the pressure on. He gets these older boys, who’re all keen to get in his good books, to be mean to Amhar, to beat him on the practice field. And Amhar puts up with it because he wants nothing more than to be Medraut’s favorite, because Medraut is the leader. D’you think those bruises he gets are by chance?”
“What?” How could I not have seen this? I closed my mouth which had dropped open. “Why didn’t you say something earlier? Before now? Why hasn’t Amhar said anything to me?”
Llacheu shook his head. “What goes on between the boys usually goes no further. They don’t tell on each other, and we older warriors don’t tell on them. Most say it toughens them up. And it’s an unwritten rule not to snitch. But as Medraut’s leaving… I thought I could tell you.”
“I’m glad you did.” I struggled to keep my voice level. Anger welled up, hot and vivid. Anger that an unwritten rule like this even existed, preventing vulnerable boys from telling anyone in authority they were being bullied. Anger that Llacheu had seen fit to keep this to himself. Anger that he’d kept this rule because perhaps he too had once suffered at the hands of older boys. Anger that my child had been bullied under my nose, and I’d been too stupid to notice. I spoke through gritted teeth. “I’ll have to speak to Arthur about this.”
Llacheu shook his head. “No point. He won’t do anything. It probably happened to him when he was a boy. It certainly happened to me. What hurts you makes you stronger.”
I frowned. Llacheu had it right– it had indeed happened to Arthur. His own brother, ten years the elder, had been the one bullying him, the one threatening his actual life, so much so that Merlin had feared the child Arthur would end up dead. Suddenly, this world seemed one devoid of rules and laws, where an older brother could decide to rid himself of a younger one, where boys could freely bully and intimidate those weaker than themselves. A bit English public school, really.
I jumped down from the fence. “But I don’t want Amhar made stronger that way.” My voice rose. “I want him safe and unhurt.”
Llacheu slid down as well. “He’s Father’s heir. You can’t stop him becoming a warrior, you know. And you don’t want him turning out soft, like a girl.” His voice was gentle, and his brown eyes, slanting a little as his mother’s did, held sympathy. How much did he guess about the way I felt? How much did he know? Gossip about me had rustled around the fortress from the moment I’d arrived, and most people knew I’d come from some place very different to this.
I sucked in my lower lip, and shook my head. “But I can keep him mine until then.”
He snorted. “You think? He’s not been yours for some time. He wants nothing more than to be like his cousin. Medraut has a hold over him that I don’t like. This separation might break that, but I doubt it. Medraut needs to be away from Amhar as long as possible.”
I looked back at the practice ground where the boys had downed swords for a breather. Wooden weapons were heavier than metal ones and served a dual purpose. They built up muscles and avoided severe injury. I’d thought all Amhar’s bruises had been caused in practice. Now it seemed I’d been wrong. Llacheu’s words brought an icy chill to my heart. Had I lost Amhar already, without ever noticing it happening?
Chapter Eighteen
We took aroute roughly northwest the next morning, riding out across the still dewy plain under a cloudless blue sky with the summer sun beating down on our backs despite the early hour. Behind us followed the men of Morfran’s command, leading packhorses laden with the tools they’d need to restore Dinas Brent to some semblance of working order. Bringing up the rear came a small contingent of other warriors acting as escort. Never wise to go unprepared.
Medraut and his three friends rode knee-to-knee just behind Arthur, Merlin and me. Their laughter and continual banter made them sound for all the world like normal boys, not the bullies and thugs Llacheu had described.
When we set off, the four boys had been self-conscious in their first armor– over-large mail shirts and helmets of boiled leather covered with interlinking metal plates, but they’d soon grown blasé and cocky, and every so often one of them would draw his sword and wave it about, the blade catching the sunlight, or unhook his helmet from his saddle horn and put it on. Their claims of the feats they’d accomplish as warriors grew more exaggerated by the minute.
Arthur must have seen my sour face as Medraut boasted of how he’d cut Pict heads off and stick them on spikes outside some unnamed fortress he’d one day command. Again.
He grinned. “Ignore them. They’re just boys finding their feet in a man’s world.”
If only that were true. I managed a smile, but riding this close to the boys didn’t make for comforting listening. “They’re cocky little bastards,” I said, keeping my voice down low so they shouldn’t overhear. “Don’t you ever get fed up with boys’ boasts?”
This made him laugh, and Merlin, who’d been riding a horse’s length ahead took a pull on his reins and brought his horse in beside us.
“Boys,” Arthur said by way of explanation. “They’re annoying Gwen.”
Merlin glanced back at the boys, three of whom were now tossing Cahal’s helmet between them with shouts of laughter while he struggled to retrieve it.
“It’s not boys in general,” I said, giving Merlin a meaningful glare. “It’stheseparticular boys.”
Arthur shook his head. “We were all boys once.” He grinned again. “Well, not you. But Merlin and I were, and no doubt our elders all thought we were as bad as you think these four are.”
I doubted that very much.
“Best to ignore their empty boasting,” Merlin said softly, his eyes meeting mine. “We’ll be rid of them soon enough.”
Not soon enough for me.
Arthur kicked Taran on to catch up with Neb, our guide from the lake village who was to take us through the marshes, and I glanced back once more at the boys.
A gentle breeze ruffled their short hair, cropped for the first time in their lives, and they could easily have been a group of cheerful schoolboys off to their first sports match. They’d put aside their wooden practice swords, and proper metal weapons now hung on their swordbelts. Dressed and armed like that, they had a look of children caught wearing their parents’ clothing, even Medraut, with his sharply knowing eyes.
Merlin leaned toward me, keeping his voice low. “Hard to think of him as dangerous.”
