Page 30 of The Road to Avalon
I nodded to her. “Go to Archfedd. She’s tired and will want hot water to wash in.”
Maia scuttled away, the look on her face telling me she felt miffed at being excluded. As my maid, she’d been privy to many private discussions, and, as far as I could tell, never spread gossip.
Arthur waited for her to close the door between our chamber and the one she shared with Archfedd, then turned back to Llacheu. “What’s wrong?”
Llacheu’s lips came together in a downturned grimace of resignation. “How did you know?”
The smallest of smiles flitted across Arthur’s face. “I can read you like a book.”
Well, not quite true. Being able to tell what our children were thinking had never been his strongpoint, but if he wanted to think he could, I wasn’t about to argue.
Llacheu managed a brief smile back. “Nothing I can put a finger on. Everything’s run smoothly. We brought the hay in, as you’ll have seen. A plentiful crop. I’ve sent out patrols daily, same as you do. The south coast remains peaceful. The corn is ripening well, and we should have a good harvest before long. No big disputes between any of the men…” His voice trailed off, and he gazed down at where his hands lay clasped on the table.
“Sounds good,” Arthur said, but his brow had furrowed. It didn’t need anyone with the Sight to tell Llacheu wasn’t happy about something.
“How is Ariana?” I butted in, determined to lighten the mood.
Llacheu’s face lit up. “Still pregnant.” He grinned. “Donella told her to stay in bed. I’ve been making her put her feet up and do nothing. Donella says that’s the best way to keep this baby. I berate my servants every day and tell them to make sure she does nothing at all. Tulac is in charge, and he’s like an old mother hen with her.” Tulac was the body slave Llacheu had grown up with.
Ariana must be nearly six months gone by now, which was further through than she’d ever got before. Surely, this time she’d be able to get a baby to the stage where if she went into early labor, it had a chance to live. If she’d been born fifteen hundred years from now, a doctor would have put a stitch in her cervix to hold the baby in place, but here there was nothing anyone could do apart from telling her to rest.
Arthur clapped his son on the back. “You’ll make me a grandfather yet, mark my words.” His proud grin vanished as he reverted back to Llacheu’s problem. “If nothing bad has happened, and Ariana’s still in one piece, what’s bothering you? Any idiot can see you’re not happy.”
Llacheu sighed, his shoulders drooping. “I can’t put a finger on it,” he said, rubbing a grubby hand across his brow. “But the atmosphere here has changed. The fortress has felt different with you away.” He paused. “And it hasn’t been a change for the good.”
My ears pricked.
Arthur frowned. “Can you be more specific?”
The impression that Llacheu didn’t want to tell us was strong, and my own apprehension rose, the little hairs on my arms and back prickling upright.
Llacheu shrugged. “I always thought I got on well with Amhar,” he began, speaking slowly as though measuring his words. “He’s been a bit odd with me a few times over the years, but this time… I don’t know. It’s like he hates me.”
He shook his head, looking up at his father with pleading eyes. “He’s your heir, Father, yet you putmein charge when you go away. Every time.” He hesitated. “I think… no, I’m sure, that if you were to give Amhar more responsibility, he might… feel better about himself. Perhaps regard me in a different light.” He grimaced. “I might be your son, but I’m not your legal heir.Heis. I don’t want to tell you how to treat him. It’s not my business. But I feel he resents me being always left in charge. Not him.”
I fixed my gaze on Arthur. His face had gone very still. I had a nasty feeling his reaction to Llacheu’s words might not be what was needed here. Tact was not his middle name.
“Has he been causing trouble?” Arthur asked, his voice flat and emotionless. Not a good sign.
Llacheu shook his head again. “No. Not really. Like I said, I can’t put my finger on it.” He clasped and unclasped his hands as though resigning himself to having to be honest. “He and Medraut whisper with their friends when I walk past. Their eyes follow me. At the evening meal in the Hall, when I’m in your place on the high table, they have their heads together, laughing. It’s me they’re mocking. Me they have something against. More and more of the younger warriors have been joining in.”
If I hadn’t known better, I’d have thought this the behavior of stupid little boys at school, ganging up on another they perceived as different. But if it included Medraut, it had to be taken seriously. What was he up to, undermining Llacheu like this? Encouraging Amhar, who’d long been jealous of his older brother, to do the same. That Medraut lay behind all this seemed obvious to me. How I wished he’d not come back with us after the Council of Kings. How I wished we’d not taken Amhar there and laid him in the path of his manipulative cousin.
Arthur gave a snort of laughter. “They’re boys,” he said. “And you’re a man grown and a warrior of standing. You should rise above their foolishness.” He slapped Llacheu on the back again. “And you’re no less my son than Amhar is. It’s I who will choose my heir, and if it suits me, I can choose any man, baseborn or not, to follow me. Amhar would be wise to think on that.”
Thank goodness Amhar wasn’t present to hearthatincendiary speech.
Llacheu’s earnest eyes met his father’s. “I have no wish to be king after you, Father. I’m content to serve whoever rules here at Din Cadan with my sword. To serve my brother when he’s king– long in the future, I hope. But Amhar behaves as though he sees me as his rival, when I’m not.”
Arthur smiled. “I only wish Amhar could be as content as you.”
So did I.
But we didn’t get any further with this conversation because, just then, the door of our chamber burst open and Cei catapulted into the room, his face a mixture of shock and fury. “Arthur,” he shouted, even though he was right in front of us. “Reaghan’s gone.”
We all stared at him for a long few seconds.
“Ah,” Llacheu said, shifting in his seat as though embarrassed. “I’d forgotten about that.”
