Page 10 of The Road to Avalon
The day aftermy conversation with Merlin, Arthur went off to the Council of Kings. Having been to the Council enough times in the past and had my fill of standing for hours on end listening to the kings drone on, I remained in the Domus Alba. Arthur, who was taking most of his men, insisted on Amhar accompanying him. “One day,you’llbe the king leading your people to the Council,” he said when Amhar complained. “None of us can tell how long we have left in this world. I need to be sure you’re well prepared for kingship. You’re a man now with a man’s obligations.”
A little shiver of foreboding trickled down my spine at his words, and I wished them unsaid with all my heart. Behind my back, I made the sign against the evil eye, although how efficacious it was at fending off bad luck remained a moot point.
Amhar, who’d been planning on another day in bed after a night probably spent in debauchery, got himself ready to go with barely concealed reluctance and bleary, bloodshot eyes.
“Medraut will be going,” Cei pointed out. “And so will Cinbelin. You’re a king’s heir and need to see what it’s all about, much more than they do. And more importantly, you need to be seen by the other kings at your father’s side.”
Merlin confined himself to shooting Amhar a piercing look before turning away, no doubt thinking more about Medraut than about Amhar, just as I was. The idea that Medraut might be preparing himself for kingship sent another shiver down my spine.
Over my dead body. Hopefully not literally.
The Council could go on for hours, although, as many of the needed agreements had been made in the preceding days, most of what they’d be covering should be straightforward. As usual, not every king had turned up, but Arthur had assured me they had a sufficient number to go ahead and make decisions.
No doubt the hall would be packed with nosy townspeople wanting to listen to what was said. Especially if it concerned them, which it often did. They’d have come for the pure spectacle, as well. To see most of the kings of Britain gathered in one place, and all out to impress one another with their robes, their entourages, and their speeches. You can have enough of spectacle, though.
I had something else planned for my morning: a ride out and a gallop to blow the cobwebs of city life away, across the inviting flat lands outside the city walls. As soon as everyone had departed for the Council Hall and a blessed silence had fallen over the Domus Alba, I changed into my riding clothes and hurried down to the stables.
In the freshly swept stableyard, a grizzled, potbellied old groom stood holding my new horse, Enfys, along with a horse for himself. After I’d lost Alezan at the ripe old age of twenty-five at the start of last winter, Arthur had found Enfys for me. She’d made a worthy replacement.
The discontented look on the groom’s weather-beaten face betrayed how fed up he was with having to escort me for a ride when he could have been asleep in the hayloft all day with no one to disturb him. Even his bow was sulky, but I ignored that.
With an airy word of thanks and a deliberate, cheery smile, I took Enfys’s reins, checked her girth and mounted, my heart fluttering with excitement at the prospect of getting out of the city at last. The groom, being portly, scrambled aboard using the stone mounting block, and I gave him a moment to settle into the saddle.
Then, as the gates stood open, I led the way into the street. He kicked his garron, a beast as portly and unenthusiastic as its rider, into a shambling trot to catch up.
An abnormal quiet reigned in the narrow streets. Most of the inhabitants must have gathered in the forum outside the hall, the early birds jammed inside, which would be horrible in this warm weather. Glad of not having to stand for hours in stuffy heat, I touched Enfys with my heels, and she broke into a joyful, springy trot. Not the most comfortable of paces for my stirrup-less groom, but he’d have to put up with it.
As we approached the massive east gates, a clatter of hooves to my left heralded the approach of another rider in a hurry. I frowned as annoyance washed over me. Medraut, who should have been with his friend Cinbelin, almost exploded out of a side street. He was struggling to keep an over-excited and sweat-drenched, showy black cob under control while trying to maintain a nonchalant grin. For whose benefit? Not mine. Bad riding of a badly trained horse was never going to impress me.
I sighed. So much for him having gone with King Clinoch and his mate Cinbelin to the council. But what was he doing here?
He forced the snorting cob in by my side, wrenching on what looked like a far too severe bit, and made me as flamboyant a bow as he could, considering he was on an almost out of control horse. “Milady the Queen, well met.” He sounded breathless from the struggle.
As I was thinking the exact opposite, I refrained from answering.
He waved his hand at my groom. “You may go back to the Domus Alba. I shall be accompanying my aunt on her ride. Off you go. She’ll be quite safe with me.”
I twisted in my saddle, opening my mouth to tell the groom not to go, but I was too late. He’d already taken the opportunity to go home to put his feet up and had turned his horse to trot back down the street as though that were much preferable to being my escort. If I shouted to him, I’d probably just look stupid. Instead, I pressed my lips together in a tight line of irritation. How dare Medraut assume I’d want him as my escort. But I had no intention of foregoing my longed-for ride because of him.
I’d have to put up with his unwanted company.
We passed through the open gates and rode in silence for a couple of minutes as our horses negotiated the cluster of shops and houses that hugged the road frontage outside the city walls. His ongoing battle with his horse to keep it in a walk continued. Wherever he’d got it, it would never make a warhorse. But then, a young man like him probably only wanted it for show.
As we emerged onto the farmland, the fields spread out before us, green with cereal crops pushing up through the rich, river-valley soil. His cob a little more under control, he turned to me with a smile on his face that almost, but not quite, rendered it pleasant. “I thought you might take the chance to ride out while the Council was in progress. Amhar told me you weren’t going last night.” He laughed. “Or was that this morning? I forget.”
The cob tossed its head, spraying us both with gobbets of thick foam from its bit. “So, I decided I wouldn’t go either, but would watch out for you and join you for a ride.” His horse pranced sideways and the hefty kick he gave it with his opposite leg sent it cannoning back into Enfys, sandwiching my leg against his. Far too close for comfort.
Well, he was nothing if not daring and upfront. I unfolded my lips. “That was very kind of you, but I can assure you I would have been quite happy with my groom for company.” I paused, wondering how I could get rid of him. “I don’t plan on a long ride, anyway. Perhaps just around the walls to the south then back again. Enough to let my horse stretch her legs.”
He grinned. Ostensibly he appeared friendly and relaxed, but I couldn’t shift the sensation that something more lurked beneath his pseudo-amicable exterior. That this was a young man with an agenda.
“Come, Aunt,” he said with a chuckle. “Don’t tell me you don’t like to gallop any longer. You have a new young horse, I see. Is she as fast as old Alezan? She’s very pretty.” He looked me in the eye with a touch of insolence. “Much as you are.”
What?Was heflirtingwith me? Indignation bubbled up. “Medraut,” I said, as frostily as I could. “I don’t doubt you think your attentions are flattering, but let me assure you that they are not. If anything, I would prefer to ride alone and have a time for private reflection. I came out for some peace and quiet, not to have to converse with anyone.”And especially not you. But I kept that one inside my head.
He laughed out loud. “You haven’t changed a bit, have you? You’re just as outspoken as I remember you from my boyhood.” He gestured around us at the small square fields and the narrow tracks running between them. “You never know, there might bebrigandslurking.” But he was mocking me now.
I heaved a sigh, resigning myself to him spoiling the ride I’d been looking forward to. “Very well,” I said, keeping my tone curt to discourage any more attempts at flirting. “You may ride to the river and back with me, and that’s all. Then I shall be returning to the Domus Alba.”And you won’t be getting an invite.
