Page 70 of The Road to Avalon
I refused to rise to the bait. “Archfedd can’t stand Medraut. She’s told me so a long time ago. You can’t make her marry him.”
He stepped out of the bath and wrapped the linen towel around his waist. “She’ll come to love him.”
How could anyone be so obtuse? “She won’t,” I snapped. “No more than I could have come to love Cadwy if I’d been forced to marry him instead of you. That’s how she sees him. Like you and I saw Cadwy.”
He shook his head. “It’s not the same. You and I have no more sons. I have to have an heir, and the closest I have to that is Medraut. If he marries Archfedd, then their child, my grandson, will rule here after him. My line will not die out.”
He had a fair point, but sacrificing Archfedd’s happiness seemed to weigh little compared with his need for an heir. What to say? How to convince him? Already I could sense I had no ground to hold. This was the Dark Ages. Women’s views on marriage didn’t count.
He moved to the slatted bench at the side of the room where a pile of clean clothes lay. “If I were you,” he said, “I’d go next door and take a bath yourself. It’ll calm you down.”
It took great self-control not to march over there and sock him one in the face.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Arthur set thedate for Medraut and Archfedd’s marriage for three weeks’ time. Nothing she, nor I, could do would change her father’s mind. He had it fixed in his head that this would be the only way he’d see a descendant of his inherit his throne, and he clearly wanted to see a grandson born as soon as possible. As if my daughter were some sort of prize heifer. Unsurprising really, when I considered the way Arthur had been when I’d first met him and almost his first words had been “you have good child-bearing hips.” Only now it wasn’t funny.
Morgawse was ecstatic, of course, at both Medraut’s rise to becoming Arthur’s heir, and the imminent addition of Archfedd, whom she’d always liked, as her daughter-in-law.
“They’re cousins,” I protested to her, having given up with trying to dissuade Arthur from this match. “They’re too closely related.” We were walking together along the wall-walk, first thing in the morning.
Morgawse shook her head. “Nonsense. This often happens in royal families. They’ll make a good match and concentrate the Pendragon bloodline.”
“That’s not what happens,” I tried, but without much hope. The science of genetic inbreeding and all its problems would be lost on her. I changed tack. “Does he love her?”
Morgawse frowned, squinting a little into the low morning sun. “Love? What’s that? You don’t need to be in love to get married. If you’re lucky, it comes later.” She shrugged her slender shoulders. “I didn’t love Theodoric when we married, but eventually I did.”
“Eventually?” I raised my eyebrows at her.
She laughed. “Didyoulove Arthur when you married?”
With reluctance, I shook my head and forbore from pointing out that I hadn’t been marrying a monster. Or he hadn’t been one then, anyway. I wasn’t so sure now.
“They’ll get used to one another,” she said airily. “Couples always do. She’ll settle down to married life.” A frown creased her brows again. “You’ve given her a bit too much freedom really. A princess should be learning sewing skills, not how to fight.”
I snorted. “A princess needs to be able to defend herself.” Perhaps against her husband. If only she were marrying Llawfrodedd, I could have rested easy. And their child would still have been Arthur’s heir. I’d tried to get Arthur to name our daughter as his heir, but that had provoked an angry outburst I’d walked away from. Had he forgotten all the years I’d spent educating him about how capable women could be?
However, he’d spoken to Archfedd and Llawfrodedd and proved he wasn’t so obtuse about feelings as I’d thought him.
“I’m well aware of your feelings for one another,” he told them after he’d called them both to our chamber. “But they are childish feelings. Archfedd is a royal princess, and as such far above your station, Llawfrodedd. You could only ever have been friends and nothing more.”
Llawfrodedd stood stiff and tall, chin up, more noble than many a royal prince. More noble than that sly Medraut, for certain. Archfedd hung her head, her cheeks tear-stained, but if I knew her, she was plotting.
Arthur’s eyes flicked between them, probably searching for signs of rebellion. “As a princess, Archfedd cannot choose to marry where she wishes. She will be wed to her cousin without delay, and you two will not see one another again.”
I’d had my fill with arguing with him, so held my tongue, although I itched to interfere. To tell him once again that he shouldn’t be doing this, and that whoever Archfedd married, her child would still be his grandchild and would be his heir.
“And you, Llawfrodedd, will leave within the week to join the garrison at Dinas Badan.” The abandoned fort close to where the battle of Badon had been waged. A long way off. I hadn’t realized Arthur had been considering making it a permanent garrison. Perhaps he’d only just decided.
Archfedd kept on studying her boots, and if Arthur had possessed the sense he was born with, he might have thought that suspicious in our daughter who was always so quick to protest. Her quiet acceptance of his decision had warning bells going off for me.
“Yes, Father.” How meek and mild she sounded. And he was fooled.
“Yes, Milord King.” Maybe Llawfrodedd was less devious being a boy. The memory of Drustans and Essylt and their illicit love affair jumped into my head. Would Archfedd and Llawfrodedd go the same way? If I’d been her, I would have, even if it risked death.
*
As the dayspassed heading toward the wedding, I tried to keep an eye on Archfedd, but it proved difficult to do that all the time. Medraut came to visit her every day, and she sat demurely with him in our chamber, under the eagle eye of me, Maia and Coventina. Sometimes Morgawse came as well, flushed with pride that her son would one day be a king, as though she saw it as his right.
