Page 36 of The Road to Avalon
“Be quiet,” Arthur snapped. His hands had tensed on the arms of his throne, the knuckles whitening. His gaze went from one angry face to the other. “Who started this?”
“He did,” Amhar spat. “He wants my place as your heir. He’s trying to undermine me with the younger warriors.”
Llacheu gave a snort. “I amnot. He’s gone mad. And if you want to know how it started, he came marching over and challenged me to fight.” He threw me a pleading glance. “Ask Gwen. She saw.”
“Don’t call my mother Gwen,” Amhar snarled. “She’s your queen, not your friend.”
What on earth had got into him? I held up my hand. “Llacheu has always called me by my name,” I said, and would have kept going, only Arthur waved me to silence.
“You, Amhar,” he said, his voice level and measured, “have been my heir since your birth. Although itiswithin my power as king to choose any man I wish to follow me, be he nobly born or poor.”
Amhar glared back at him out of eyes that might well have been mad. What had Medraut been whispering in his ear? Or maybe I was just paranoid and wanting to blame the handiest person.
Arthur glared right back. “Do you think I’m going to choose a foolish boy so full of jealousies he can’t control himself? Would I want a man like that to govern my people after I’m gone? Would he make a wise king, good in judgement and strong in battle? Do you really think so?”
Uh oh.
Llacheu’s eyes filled with concern. “Father, he didn’t mean this. It was the heat of the moment, I’m sure. His words were spoken in haste and not considered.”
Of course, Llacheu, the understanding older brother, who’d always known he couldn’t be the heir and had never wanted it, wouldn’t want the boy he’d loved since they were children dispossessed. If only Amhar could see this.
Amhar shot him a look of unconcealed venom. “I don’t needyouto defend me.”
Arthur tapped his fingers on the arm of his throne. A bad sign. He fixed his gaze back on Amhar. “You accuse me of having a favorite. I do not. You are both my sons, and I love you equally.”
“That’s not true,” Amhar spat, his left leg twitching as though he wanted to stamp it as he’d been wont to do as a child, and his lower lip starting to wobble. “Every time you’re away, it’shimyou turn to. It’s him who’s left in charge here. You say you want me to learn the ways of governing this kingdom, but you never give me the chance. It’s him you favor. Him you love. Not me. Not me, your trueborn son.”
His voice wavered as he said the last few words and he clamped his teeth over his bottom lip, perhaps to still the shake. Was he remembering that time long ago when he’d almost voiced the fear, from a vile rumor put about amongst the boys, that he wasn’t his father’s son? When he’d been on the verge of repeating what his so-called friends had taunted him with? Did he still, deep in his heart, think that lie might be true?
I glanced back at Merlin, but he stood unmoving in the shadows, face impassive.
Arthur drew in a breath. “Listen to me, boy, when I speak. I donothave a favorite and never have. Llacheu is older than you by seven years, and as such he has more experience than you do.” He glanced at Llacheu. “That is the only reason I leave the governing of Din Cadan and Dumnonia to him when I’m away. I didn’t leave him in charge when he was your age. It doesnotmean that I intend him to be king after me, as you seem to think.”
He rose to his feet. “But if you carry on like this, giving in to your petty jealousies so easily, then that is something I may well consider.” He glowered at Amhar. “Apologize for the trouble you have caused.”
Amhar’s face blanched under the dirt, but he still knew better than to refuse his father. Thank goodness. “I’m sorry, Father.” The words forced their way between his teeth, and he kept his gaze averted from Llacheu.
Arthur nodded to Cei. “I have more worthy causes to hear this morning than those of foolish boys. They can go.”
Llacheu bowed to his father, but Amhar spun on the spot and stalked out of the Hall without a backward glance.
This was far from over.
*
A frantic hammeringon the door of our bedchamber dragged me roughly from my sleep and into sudden alert wakefulness, cold sweat springing out on my skin. Arthur, as quickly awake as I was, rolled over in bed and slid out from beneath the covers. He padded naked to the door and opened it a crack. “What is it?”
Merlin barged into our room, his face papery white.
I sat bolt upright, eyes wide, and pulled the covers up to hide my own nakedness.
“You’d better get dressed,” Merlin said, a shake in his voice. “You need to come with me. Now.”
Arthur didn’t need telling twice. He pulled on the braccae and undershirt he’d discarded on the floor last night and slid his feet into his boots. As he reached for his sword belt, Merlin shook his head. “You won’t need that.”
“What is it?” I asked from the bed, the thudding of my heart loud in my ears. “What’s happened?”
Merlin’s anguished gaze met mine, but all he did was shake his head. Were those tears in his eyes?
