Page 8 of The Quest for Excalibur
Little shit.Only not so little now– my nephew could easily have been mistaken for a boy several years his senior.
Amhar’s brow furrowed. He loved his little sister dearly, but Medraut was a big influence on him. Too big, in my opinion, but we were stuck with him now his mother had decided his father posed a danger. Unless we dispatched him off to live with his Uncle Cadwy, and that alternative didn’t bear thinking of. At least while he remained here, I could keep an eye on him with the help of Merlin, in whom I’d confided my fears.
“Girls matter very much,” I said to Medraut. “As you’ll find out one day. And it’s best to always treat them properly.”
He gave me a disbelieving look. “But they’re useless. They can’t fight, or climb trees or ride properly.”
Arrogant little sod.“Of course they can do all of those things,” I retorted, stung, but keeping my voice level. “It’s just men won’t let them.” I pointed to where my own sword hung on the wall near Arthur’s weapons. “You know very well that’s my sword hanging there. And that I know how to use it.”
“Mother killed a man,” Amhar said, his grubby face glowing with pride. Something Medraut’s mother had never done– to my knowledge.
“Just the one,” I said. “And it was to save someone’s life.”
Medraut shifted his weight, looking awkward. “But you’re diff’rent. You’re the Ring Maiden. Everyone knows that. I mean ord’nary girls can’t do stuff. Girls like Archfedd. She’s jus’ going to grow up and marry some prince. What does she need to learn to fight and ride for?”
By his side Amhar stood watching, mouth slightly open, perhaps a little shocked by Medraut’s boldness, his eyes flicking back and forth between me and his cocky cousin.
I sighed. “Perhaps Archfedd won’t want to just become someone’s wife. Perhaps she’ll want to become a warrior princess, or even to write books, like me. No one has to do what is expected of them, Medraut. We all have free will.”
“Isn’t that heresy?” Amhar asked, his voice small and low.
I frowned. “Has that village priest been up here again? Today?”
Both boys nodded.
“Teaching you that you don’t have free will?”
Two more nods.
Medraut volunteered more information. “He said as free will was wrong. He said as in the past we British had practised something bad called…” He sought for the word. “P-Pelagianism, and it was all wrong. We have to believe in pre… pre-ordained lives. That we can’t change anything. That we’re born wicked.”
Well, if I was right, Medraut certainly might have been.
I smiled. “That’s not precisely what Pelagianism means.”Stupid uneducated priest.“It means that we’re born innocent and we have the power to reach salvation ourselves. Babies are not born sinful.”
“Areyoua Pelagian, Mother?” Amhar asked, eyes round.
This conversation was not going in a direction I felt comfortable with, nor at ease in discussing as I didn’t know enough about it. I shook my head. “No, I’m not.” I’d have liked to have said I’d been baptized into the Church of England by my parents, but I held my tongue. “I have my own beliefs that I don’t wish to share with you boys right now.”
Medraut scowled as though this had been something he really wanted to probe. “Do you worship the old gods then?” he asked. “Keelia’s daughter, Kala, told me you came here from Annwfn– from fairyland. Right out of the hill at Ynys Witrin. Where old Gwyn ap Nudd lives. The fairy king.”
Amhar nodded. “She did too. She said you was a fairy. That your father was Gwynn ap Nudd hisself.” He paused. “She said that made me fairy-born an’ that the fairies might come and try to snatch me back, at night, when I’m asleep. Is that true?” His voice wavered with uncertainty.
I kept my face straight. Bloody Kala with her garbled stories. Everyone at Din Cadan knew I came from Ynys Witrin, the island in the middle of the marshes that would one day become Glastonbury.
Stories abounded about my origins, not just here in Din Cadan, but elsewhere, none of which were true. I set my hands one on each boy’s shoulder, Medraut’s solid and well covered, Amhar’s slight and bony. “I donotworship the old gods, and my father wasnotGwynn ap Nudd. Both my parents are long dead and were perfectly human just like you. However, Iwaswith the monks at Ynys Witrin.”
Briefly.
“Nothing more than that. And you are not fairy-born, Amhar.” I squeezed his shoulder. “You can rest assured I shall be having words with young Kala.”
Chapter Six
Arthur agreed tothe boys dining with us in the hall that night, mollifying Archfedd by letting her spend the night with Reaghan, in Coventina’s house, under her maid Keelia’s watchful eye. To Archfedd, this was a much more enjoyable way to pass the evening than having to sit at the high table in the hot and smoky hall on her best behavior.
Maia dressed the two boys in their finest tunics for the occasion, and when Arthur and I walked through to the hall, they followed us in solemn procession and took their seats to my right. Cei and Coventina had their usual places to Arthur’s left, with Merlin on the far side of the boys, ready to help me keep them in check.
In the twelve years I’d known Merlin, he’d not changed a jot. Standing an inch or so shorter than my husband, he had a long, narrow face and clever, dark-brown eyes that missed nothing– unless it had to do with women.
