Page 32 of The Road to Avalon
Cei paced across the room to the door, spun, and paced back. “She’ll be angry.”
Arthur caught his arm. “Yes. She will. But if you leave her, let her have her way, I’d wager she’ll be home in a week or two, or at the latest when winter sets in and she’s cold and hungry in her chapel. Let her come to her senses by herself.”
How surprising that Arthur should have wise words on parenting for his brother, considering the endless mistakes he made with Amhar.
I put my pennyworth in. “That’s good advice. Let her come back when she’s ready. We all know Reaghan, and she’s not a girl who can do without her creature comforts. As soon as it gets cold over there, she’ll be back.”
Cei looked at Coventina, who gave him a nod and wiped her hand across her eyes.
He heaved a deep sigh. “Against my better judgement, I’ll follow your advice.”
Chapter Fifteen
Isoon workedout that Llacheu was right in his assessment of Medraut and Amhar and how the atmosphere of the fortress had subtly changed in our absence. As he said, it was hard to pinpoint exactly what the change was, but I noticed straightaway that beneath the daily life of the fortress ran a strange undercurrent of dissatisfaction, the tendrils of which appeared to lead back to those two young men.
That evening in the Hall the sense of there being factions amongst the men seemed evident. A glance at Arthur, who was frowning down the hall toward the lower tables, told me that he, too, had noticed. Whereas before, only the very youngest had sat together at the lowest tables, now, it seemed, almost all the younger warriors had joined them instead of mingling amongst their elders.
The sense of trouble brewing strengthened.
I liked to take a walk around the perimeter of the wall-walk every morning if the weather was fine, and sometimes even if it was bad and I had to wrap my cloak around me to keep out the rain. Occasionally, Arthur joined me, but more often than not I had to make do with Merlin for company, Arthur being usually too busy either dispensing justice in the Hall or down on the training grounds with his men.
The morning after our return, I left Arthur holding court and met Merlin outside. We strolled between the houses together, heading for the ramparts, the summer sun beating down on us, even though the hour was early. The song of larks riding the thermals high above us carried on the light breeze.
The fortress women had begun their morning’s work at dawn, as usual, and now were hanging out washing, beating rugs, and sweeping doorsteps clean. From the forge came the sound of hammering, the smoke from Goff’s furnace mingling with the scent of baking bread and the farmyard odor of middens, pigsties and stables.
Children, in this weather turfed out of their homes with a heel of bread at first light, galloped down the narrow passageways between the buildings, chasing dogs or scrawny chickens and screeching with delight, or played elaborate games on patches of grass, their laughter echoing across the plateau. When Din Cadan teemed with life like this, the specter of war seemed far away.
We climbed to the top of the grass-covered ramparts by a set of wooden steps to stand looking out over the flat plain toward far-off Ynys Witrin and the distant hump of the Tor. I’d done this so many times now but had never yet tired of the view. The rich farmlands and green pastures surrounding our hilltop stronghold eventually gave way to the dark shadow of forest in full leaf. Beyond that, but invisible from here, lay the boundless marshes that stretched as far as the coast at Dinas Brent. All of it peaceful and quiet in the warm summer sunshine.
I linked arms with Merlin and steered him toward the training grounds, curious to see the young warriors at work, and hoping Medraut and Amhar would be among them.
“I hear Reaghan’s gone to be a religious,” Merlin said as we walked.
I nodded. “Arthur thinks she’ll be back when the weather changes.”
He chuckled. “He may well be correct. I don’t see her wearing sack cloth and sandals in winter, nor enjoying a pallet bed with a straw-stuffed mattress and one thin blanket.”
Down in the vegetable patches some of the women and older girls were on their knees weeding the cabbages and carrots, turnips and beet, radishes, onions and garlic. These grew in the small fields, with the gardens around each house dedicated for the most part to herbs, both for cooking and healing. Every woman kept her own supply of medicines with which to dose her family.
We walked a bit further, and, in the village below, the church bell rang out. Just a small thing, tinny and harsh, that hung by the door of the little thatched building, calling to those who wanted to come to worship. Something not everyone did– the old gods of pre-Christian times still managed to keep their hold amongst the country people.
Merlin smiled. “Time someone gave them a better bell.”
“A louder one, maybe. Then all those who avoid attending will hear it better and be unable to say they missed its call. Maybe I’ll get Arthur to have one made.”
“The villagers wouldn’t thank you for that.”
I nodded. “I do know that. I wouldn’t really do it. Let them worship their old gods in their own houses if they want to. I don’t want to interfere in what they believe.”
“Neither do I.”
I stopped and leaned on the crenellations, staring toward the tiny dots in the distance that were a herd of horses with foals at foot out on the grazing lands beyond the cultivations. “I suppose with that argument, we should let Reaghan have the freedom of what she believes as well.”
He leaned beside me, but looked inward toward the distant practice grounds where groups of warriors were engaged in sword fighting, archery, spear throwing and wrestling. “You’re probably right.”
Why was he always so non-committal? The fact that he never seemed prepared to give a straight answer could be so irritating.
“It’s odd, though, isn’t it?” I said, controlling my annoyance and without looking at him. “Odd that it came upon her so suddenly– this compunction to be a religious.”
