Page 62 of The Road to Avalon
“He did it, Gwen.” His voice was gentle. “He ran, and when we caught him, he didn’t deny it.”
I swallowed, conscious of tears brimming at last, determined not to let them fall. If I gave in to tears, I was lost, and I had to find out what had happened to my boy. I fisted my hands again, digging my nails into the soft flesh of my palms. “What did he say? His actual words when he was accused. I need to know. Tell me.” This time my voice emerged fierce and angry.
Cei lifted his hand toward me but dropped it back again as I flinched away. If I accepted his sympathy, his kindness, then those tears would fall, and I couldn’t let them.
He cleared his throat again, several times. “We caught up with the advance guard at the farm, and they brought Amhar out to us. They’d bound his hands and taken his armor and weapons. He didn’t look as though he’d given them any trouble.” He looked away from me into the distance, his eyes unfocused as though he saw the scene acted out before him as a replay.
“We all dismounted. Arthur walked up to him. Face to face. I thought he had it in his head to kill the boy right there, so I hurried after him.” His voice wobbled. He’d loved Amhar like a son himself. But he’d loved Llacheu too. As had I. How difficult it must have been for him.
I fought to steady my breathing. “Go on.”
“He-he asked him one question. “Did you do it?” And Amhar looked him in the eye and answered.”
“What? What did he say?” I clenched my fists tighter still, if that were possible, but I couldn’t still the shaking that racked my body.
“He said, “What matter if I did. You believe I did, so I must have. Who am I to argue with the High King?” And Arthur stepped back, drawing his sword.”
I caught my breath. Excalibur. The sword of Macsen Wledig. An emperor’s sword. She hadn’t been forged for this.
Cei swallowed. “He didn’t deny it, Gwen.”
I stared into his eyes, seizing on his words. “But he didn’t admit it, either. Did he? That wasn’t anadmissionyou heard. It was Amhar saying his father always thinks he’s right. It wasn’t Amhar saying he did it.It wasn’t.”
The tears in Cei’s eyes overflowed and trickled down his dirty cheeks. “Arthur took it as one. He carried out the execution himself.”
I looked away, fixing my gaze on my dusty boots, the hollow emptiness where my stomach had once been, enormous. “Merlin was right,” I whispered. “He saw. He told us Amhar was innocent.”
Cei gave a weary shake of his head. “And where is Merlin now?”
How bitter were his words.
He swiped the relentless flies away. “What happened to his Sight when it was needed? What’s the use of a man of magic if every time you need him, he’s not there, or can’t see?”
I kept my eyes on my boots, fixed on the dust adhering to them, concentrating. “We had to leave him in Caer Legeion. At Morgawse’s house.”
“Why?”
Oh yes, why? I’d have to tell him. It would come out soon enough. And then what? He’d killed a member of Arthur’s family. Would the same fate await him as had been dealt to our son? My hollowed-out body felt devoid of emotion, empty.
I licked dry lips. “He killed Morgana.”
“What?” Cei’s voice rose. “He killed her? Dead?” Disbelief radiated out of him.
“What other sort of killed is there but dead?” I asked, bleakness coloring my tone. If only therewereanother sort of killed than dead. If only.
“Why? What happened?”
This time when he put his hand out to me, I didn’t flinch but turned toward him, determination in my heart. “I’ll tell you exactly what happened.”
So I did, in every detail, from our headlong ride on Morgana’s trail to Viroconium then south to Caer Legeion, to regain Merlin’s lost Sight, and our quest to follow Amhar and save him. All too late.
When I’d finished, we sat in silence, staring out across the sunbaked fields where the air shimmered and cattle stood idly under the shade of spreading oaks.
I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t.
Chapter Twenty-Six
We buried mybeautiful son in the early evening, with the great golden ball of the sun dipping down behind the Welsh mountains and sending shafts of bright, impossible light streaking across the land.
