Page 35 of The Road to Avalon
“How?” Merlin yelled back, as Amhar managed to get his hands round Llacheu’s throat. “What d’you thinkIcan do?”
“Stop!” roared a voice like a foghorn.
Total silence fell in an instant. The warriors, young and old, retreated back several paces, as though trying to distance themselves from any responsibility. Amhar and Llacheu froze.
On the far side of the crowd stood Cei, his hands on his hips and his face flushed with anger. “Whatis going on here?”
Amhar and Llacheu struggled to their feet. Amhar had a bloody nose, and his hair was full of dirt. Llacheu winced as his hand went to his split lower lip, blood from it running down his chin. Both of them had the makings of black eyes.
“To the Hall,” Cei ordered. “Now.”
Chapter Sixteen
My coffee hasgone cold. I wipe the tears that have formed in the corners of my eyes away with my fingers. How long ago this was, yet only yesterday. If I close my eyes, I see my son standing before me now, an unhappy, discontented shade of a lost life, and this the turning point, the pivot on which all the events that followed turned.
Hindsight can be a gift, but a little knowledge can be a curse, and I had both, back then, and used neither, fool that I was. And as for Merlin… what use was he when I needed him most?
I get up and go into the kitchen, but Cabal stays outside, sleeping in the sun. I fill the kettle and set it on the hob to boil. A hot cup of coffee and my dreams of a life long gone await.
*
The crowd ofwatching warriors parted, albeit a little reluctantly, and Merlin and I followed Cei as he escorted Amhar and Llacheu up the slope to the Hall. A few of Medraut’s cronies made to come too, but Cei rounded angrily on them. “Get back to your training. This instant.” I’d never seen him so furious before.
I glanced over my shoulder at Medraut, who’d remained standing with his friends as though he guessed he’d be repulsed if he tried to accompany Amhar. But the sly look on his face told me he longed to see how this would unfold. I fixed him with a cold stare, before hurrying after Merlin.
A cluster of villagers waited outside the Hall in the hot sun, one of them with a fat goose tucked under his arm, most likely queueing to go inside and put their disputes and problems before the king. When they saw the looks on our faces, they shuffled out of the way in haste, the goose honking its displeasure loudly.
Cei gave the two young combatants a shove through the open doors into the cool, dimly lit interior. Amhar stumbled on the threshold, and Cei gave them both another shove. As I followed them inside, my eyes went to the far end, where Arthur sat in stately splendor on his throne.
The spare and balding man who’d been standing, floppy straw hat squeezed in his hands, in front of the throne, peered over his shoulder at the commotion, eyes widening in shock. That one look had him hastily stepping aside into the gloom by the side wall.
“Keep going,” Cei spat, as Amhar hesitated beside the cold hearth.
Llacheu had no such reticence about him and stepped up to take the supplicant’s place, the fancy tassels on his boots shaking as he walked. He executed as neat a bow as he could, in the circumstances. Amhar joined him, keeping a good six feet away, his bow a little sketchier and his shoulders hunched in what looked like surly defiance.
I slid down the side of the Hall with Merlin behind me, and moved to take the seat beside Arthur’s throne, where I often joined him in judgement. I wanted a ringside seat for this. Merlin melted into his usual unobtrusive place in the shadows behind the throne.
“What is this?” Arthur asked, his gaze traveling over his two sons, taking in their disheveled, dirty appearance and blossoming bruises.
“I found them fighting,” Cei said. “Not in practice but in aggression. And not with swords but rolling on the ground like wild animals. I put a stop to it before it went any further.”
Llacheu, his hands clasped behind his back, stood up a little straighter. “I’m sorry, Father.” Unsurprisingly, his voice held shame and contrition; he’d not wanted this and had avoided it until Amhar had gone out of his way to provoke him. Part of me wanted to tell Arthur that, but another part held my tongue silent. Twenty years had taught me that in a situation like this, a father ruled, and a mother had little say. At least, not in public.
And thiswasin public because those waiting villagers had come creeping in through the open doors to stand staring up the Hall, open-mouthed and agog.
Arthur’s gaze went to Amhar’s rebellious face. Not a shred of shame or contrition marred his ruddy features. His bottom lip stuck out, much as it had done when he’d been a sulky child, and his dark brows had formed a frown worthy of his father. Arthur waited.
The silence stretched out.
His patience paid off at last.
Amhar shot a look of pure hatred at his brother. “I’m not sorry,” he hissed. “He deserved it.”
Llacheu’s eyes flew wide open. “What? What did I do?”
Cei stepped between them as they bristled at one another.
“You heard me,” Amhar snarled. “You think you’re so wonderful. You think you’re Father’s favorite. Well, you’re not.Iam.I’mhis heir.”
