Page 19 of The Road to Avalon
Arthur shrugged. “Don’t forget. Drustans hasn’t been home to remind his father of his existence in nearly twenty years. At every Council of Kings, he’s steered well clear of him. Can you blame March for preferring the boy he’s seen every day of his life? The boy who was there at his deathbed.” He gave me a wry smile. “The boy he’s seen grow to be a man.”
I sat down with a thump. “And Essylt. She’s not the same girl I remember.” I couldn’t keep the disappointment out of my voice.
He nodded, sitting beside me. “The years will do that. People don’t remain the same, no matter how much you want them to. No one is unchanged by the life they lead.” He shook his head. “And don’t forget who she’s been married to. A man famous for having not a speck of joy in him.”
True.
I swallowed. “Do you think she’ll remember Drustans? He thinks she will, I’m certain. It’s like he’s been living for the moment when he could become king and come and claim her.”
He frowned. “I took the opportunity to speak with him on our journey. He’s lost none of his impetuosity. I warned him that before he speaks to her, we need to get the funeral done, and reminded him that she’s a queen in mourning for her husband. I hope he’s possessed of enough common sense to follow my advice.”
I pursed my lips. “When has he ever taken anyone’s advice?”
That made him laugh. “In that, he’s just like you. When was the last time you evenaskedfor my advice?”
I gave him a playful punch on the shoulder. “Nonsense. I do so all the time.”
*
The funeral wasto take place the next day. They’d waited long enough in the summer heat and an ever-increasing aroma of decay hung about the storage barn where the king had been laid in state, generously wafting its way across the fortress. Apparently Essylt had refused point blank to have his body laid out in her chamber. Not that I blamed her. Wise move.
We ate that night in the hall. The small top table was taken by Essylt, with her son on her right, then Arthur beside him, then me, accompanied by Archfedd, on the end. Our warriors ate with the Caer Dore warriors at the two long trestle tables set to either side of the smoldering hearth fire. Drustans did not appear.
Surely Essylt had expected him to accompany us and I hadn’t been wrong when I’d thought she recognized him outside. But maybe she didn’t feel the way she had as a girl. Maybe their few days together were just a forgotten incident in her life, filed away as over and done with.
But she’d picked him out amongst our men. Surely that meant something. A part of me longed for their story to have a happy ending, even though I feared it wouldn’t.
She made no mention of him at dinner. Not that I got any chance to speak to her as the two kings took up the center of the table and we queens were consigned to either end. But out of curiosity, I watched her as closely as I could.
I did manage to eavesdrop on Arthur’s conversation with Seleu though.
“I’ll be doing the funeral oration,” that young man informed Arthur. “As my father’s heir, it’s my place to do that.” He had a slight pomposity about him that in one so young was amusing. Did heknowhis older half-brother had accompanied us? Had he seen him in the crowd when his mother had? I did catch him scanning the faces in the hall from time to time– perhaps searching for a face that might seem familiar.
Arthur was silent a moment, as though considering this statement. “Where are you burying him?” he asked at last, steering clear of asking the boy why the oldest son wasn’t performing this important task.
“Nowhere,” Seleu said. “We have a funeral pyre prepared beyond the village. This was what he wanted. It’s the way his own father was sent on to the next world. My mother has agreed we should fulfill his wishes.”
Arthur nodded. “Best to do that.” A certain superstition clung on that if you didn’t carry out the wishes of the dead to the letter, they’d be back to haunt you with their protests. He took a swig of his wine. “You have brothers and sisters, I gather.”
The young man nodded. “I do. Two brothers and a sister. My brothers are young now but will one day be amongst my warriors, and my sister will be in need of a husband shortly. She is fourteen and ready for marriage.”
At fourteen? Not in my opinion she wasn’t, but there’d be nothing I could do about this. Girls married at that age every day, and this poor princess would be the same if her pompous older brother had his way. I wasn’t sure I liked young Seleu.
He drew in his bottom lip, his gaze moving past me to Archfedd, sitting quietly on the end of the high table sipping her wine. “And I myself will have need of a wife,” he said, with deliberate emphasis. “Your daughter has caught my eye.”
Bloody cheek.Pompous wasn’t a good enough adjective for him.Jumped up, arrogant, self-important little shit.
Arthur, who’d imbibed more than his fair share of the not-so-good wine, laughed. “And she’ll be needing a husband soon.”
My eyes widened in shock.
If Arthur hadn’t drunk so much, it might have occurred to him to consider what Caer Dore had done to Essylt and decide he didn’t want it to happen to Archfedd. But instead, he clapped Seleu on the back and said, “Sensible young man.”
Over my dead body would she end up living here.
Chapter Ten
At least thefuneral itself went to plan. The next morning, six sturdy warriors, with their noses blocked with twists of rag, and posies of lavender around their necks, carried the bier on which King March lay in all his stinky glory to the pyre that had been prepared for him. The rest of the funeral procession followed at a discreet distance, and took up positions upwind of the corpse.
