Page 63 of The Road to Avalon
Arthur chose a spot twenty yards from the farm where an ancient barrow lay: a long mound half-obscured behind the barns and close to the western edge of the road. Bronze age, most likely. The trivial thought barged its way into my head as though it were the most important thing in the world.Bronze age. Who cared? I didn’t.Bronze age. I had to stop myself thinking.
I couldn’t. Who had been buried there in the distant past? A warrior, I hoped. Warriors in the plural, maybe. And now another would join them, unfledged in all but the smallest of skirmishes.
The grass-covered mound rose out of the flat land, cold and unwelcoming. Cold ground to receive a cold body. Half a dozen of our men had scrambled to the top and dug a hole down into the mound, the earth piled up beside it, a stark reminder of what we were about to do.
I couldn’t stand with Arthur. He didn’t ask me to, and I couldn’t take those steps across the dusty ground to join him. He didn’t even look at me. Instead, Archfedd and I huddled close together, off to one side, watching in silence as Arthur’s men lowered the quickly made wooden pallet, on which they’d laid my son’s shroud-wrapped body, into the hole. Just a white cocoon made somehow smaller by death, as though his flown soul had possessed physicality.
Whoever this mound had been created for all those centuries ago, surely he wouldn’t mind sharing his resting place with my lost son, and if he did, he had no say.
Standing in stony silence, the tears I’d thought would fall earlier had dried to nothing.
Archfedd clutched my hand in her hot grasp, pressing her grief-filled body against mine. Beyond her, Llawfrodedd stood with his head hanging, the lines of shock deep etched in his young face. Did hestillbelieve Amhar had been innocent? Did I, even? My mind a turmoil, I didn’t know.
The whole thing was over quickly. Hurried, brushed under the metaphorical carpet, got out of the way. I didn’t budge from my position as our warriors departed in somber dribs and drabs, and Llawfrodedd gently tried to shepherd Archfedd away. Instead, I watched the pallet bearers fill in the hole, shoveling the smothering earth bit by bit over my firstborn child, shutting off the light of day from his dead eyes.
At last, they heaped the final shovelfuls of earth onto the mound and stumbled down the slope to slink off without meeting my gaze. Alone, lost in my thoughts, I couldn’t take my eyes from that cold dark earth. Six feet of it between Amhar’s beautiful face and the reddened sky.
A small sound to my left. I turned my head. No. I wasn’t alone.
Arthur hadn’t moved either, but was staring at the grave mound, with Cei standing close, like an anxious sheepdog guarding his flock.
Hatred boiled up inside me. Had heneverloved Amhar? Did he even now believe I’d lied to him after Amhar’s birth and Amhar hadn’t been his son? Every little thing that served to reinforce my suspicions welled up like lava from a volcano.
I was back, in an instant, on the fateful day when Arthur had slain Melwas, and with his dying breath, that wicked king had perhaps set in motion this tragedy.
Amhar, just two weeks old, slept in his crib, and only a few oil lamps lit our chamber. Arthur came in, late and angry, heavy with the burning knowledge that Melwas had claimed Amhar as his own child as he died, as a last, spiteful wound. I argued with him, fighting for my child. He said he believed me, but had he? For a while, back then, he’d thought he’d lost his son. And now he had, but by his own hand. No matter how much I assured him, how much I swore Melwas had never touched me, had heeverbelieved me? Did he even now think he’d executed Melwas’s cuckoo in the nest?
The peasant girl Bretta’s words came back to me, echoing down the years.
I curse you, Queen of Dumnonia, and I curse your husband and your son. You and yours shall know the loss I feel.
And, oh, hadn’t she been right.
Archfedd, whom I’d thought gone with Llawfrodedd, came hurrying back. She tugged my hand. “Mother, you need to come back with me. I don’t like it here. I don’t want to look at it. I don’t want you to.”
I turned to her, almost puzzled at finding her here. What to do with her? My eyes fell on Llawfrodedd hovering at her elbow. “Take care of my daughter.” I pulled my hand free and pushed her toward him. “Make sure she eats and rests.”
“Mami.” She reached out, but I retreated.
“No. I have other things to do. Go with Llawfrodedd. Please. He’ll look after you.” The time for me to comfort her was put off yet again. It would have to come later.
His arm went around her shoulders, supportive and strong. My heart ached. Who was there to support me now? No one. I had to stand alone.
I heaved a steadying breath and walked toward Arthur, peering at him through the soft, shadowy twilight.
He didn’t turn his head.
Cei did, though. “Gwen.”
Still, Arthur didn’t move.
I halted six feet from them. Waiting.
Long minutes crawled past that could have been hours or days or weeks. I had no idea of time anymore. For me, all time had stopped.
At last, Arthur turned to face me.
I stared.
