Page 8 of The Road to Avalon
He was probably right about that.
“And anyway, I’d made friends with Cinbelin, and he wanted me to stay. Like I said– we’re likebrothers.” His eyes slid sideways to where Amhar was talking to Bedwyr, perhaps hoping my son might be half listening.
I schooled my face to impassivity. Was there more to this than met the eye? He was a young man who’d already severely wounded or killed two men over an impregnated girl, and more than likely something along those lines might have caused him to fall out with a father well known for his womanizing. Rivalry over a girl, perhaps? The old lion bested by the young one and not happy about it?
I steeled myself. “And now you’re here in Viroconium, what do you intend to do?”
He returned a guileless stare that was most likely anything but. “Do? Why, I intend to return to Din Cadan with you. Amhar has invited me. And Cinbelin, who has two older brothers, has permission from his father to accompany me.” He smiled, a sly, calculating smile. “I’ve a wish to meet Archfedd and Reaghan again– and see for myself how they’ve turned out now they’re women grown. We’re both looking forward to it.”
I didn’t like the way he said that one bit.
Chapter Four
Amhar went outevery night we remained in Viroconium, returning early each morning and sleeping for most of the day. Much like a teenager in the world I’d left behind. For a young man who’d grown up in a hillfort, he was taking to the thrills of city living like a duck to water. Encouraged, of course, by Medraut.
Arthur made no more fatherly attempts to curtail our son’s excesses. “He’s a man grown, and at least he’s told us where he’s going. It’s not for me to prevent him sowing his oats,” he declared, when I broached the subject on the fourth day Amhar, with pouches under his eyes, had come staggering back as we were eating our breakfast in the courtyard.
“But he’s not used to this sort of life,” I said, annoyed at his response. “He’s not a city boy, like you were.” What I really wanted to say was that he shouldn’t be out with Medraut every night, but I held my tongue on that one. For now. I’d learned it was best not to push Arthur in the direction I wanted him to take, or he’d dig his heels in.
Arthur laughed. “Is that how you see me?”
He’d been brought up in his father’s palace at Viroconium until, at the age of fifteen, his father had dispatched him to rule Dumnonia. Probably if he hadn’t left then, Cadwy would have found a way for his younger brother to have had a handy, and fatal, accident. He’d tried enough times since.
I frowned, not sure this made Arthur a city boy in quite the same class as Medraut and his friends. “Not really, I suppose,” I conceded. “But youaresomeone who spent at least part of his youth in a city.” I raised my eyebrows. “I’m assuming you weren’t out gaming and drinking… and chasing women… when you were under fifteen.”
He laughed again. “I liked girls, of course, but back then my friends and I admired them from afar. We were more interested in hunting and having adventures than we were in girls and gambling.” He shook his head. “But Amhar has nearly four years on the boy I was then, and he’s a man with a man’s needs. We have to let him spread his wings. And he’s not on his own. He’s with Medraut.”
I pressed my lips together, bracing myself. “That’s as may be, but I’m not happy with him learning to spread his wings in that young man’s company. He isn’t a good influence.”
Arthur sighed and rubbed his stubbly chin. “Medraut’s just having fun while he has the chance. Before life gets in his way. At least Amhar isn’t moaning as much as he usually does.” He paused, looking reflective and a touch surprised. “Not at all, in fact.”
I shook the last few crumbs of bread into the fishpond as a servant took our empty breakfast tray. The doves on the tiled rooftop rose in a flutter of wings, disturbed by a prowling ginger cat edging along the ridge toward them.
“Well, don’t you think that’s a bit odd in itself?” I said, unable to accurately pinpoint the cause of the unease I felt. I had to admit Arthur was right about one thing, though. Amhar was indeed only doing what young men had always done and always would do– running riot in a city and discovering the heady pleasures of bachelor life.
Arthur caught my hand. “You’re fussing over nothing. Relax a bit. Enjoy our son learning to have fun. It’s what he wants to do. I’m pleased he’s made so many new friends. Let’s hope being with young men his own age, who are all warriors or kings’ sons from other kingdoms, will encourage him in the right direction. They could be a good example.” He kissed me on the forehead. “Stop worrying. Or you’ll be caught frowning when the wind changes and then you’ll be stuck like that.”
So spoke the expert on childrearing.
I collared Merlin after Arthur departed to yet another meeting, this time with a different set of kings. Britain consisted of so many small kingdoms it was hard to get them all seated at the enormous round table in the hall. And all of them wanted a semi-private audience before the Council began with the High King and Caninus, who acted a bit like a company secretary.
Merlin was setting out his chess set on a sturdy board beside the fountain. This was a game I’d taught him, after persuading one of our better craftsmen to fashion two sets– one from creamy-white bone and a dark set from bog oak. The tactical side of the game appealed to Merlin’s cunning brain, and he carried his chess set wherever he went.
I sat on the edge of the fountain and waited as he finished arranging the board, giving me the white set. Without glancing up at him, I moved the King’s Pawn two spaces forward and he counteracted by moving his own King’s Pawn out to face mine. I thought for a moment then moved my King’s Knight out to its left, and he retaliated with his Queen’s Knight. Only we called them “Warriors” not Knights.
The hot sun beat down on the back of my neck. “I don’t like Amhar going out every night with Medraut and his friends,” I said, trying to keep my tone neutral, as I considered my next move. Yes, the King’s Bishop could come out of hiding and move to face Merlin’s Warrior.
Merlin kept his eyes on the board. “I don’t either.” His hand hovered for a moment, then descended on his own King’s Bishop, sliding him out to stand between his Warrior and my Bishop.
I studied the pieces, but my mind was elsewhere. “And I don’t want Medraut coming back to Din Cadan with us.” I moved my Queen’s Bishop’s Pawn forward to stand behind my Queen’s Bishop, hoping that was a good move. I didn’t often beat Merlin nowadays, and being distracted like this was a clear path to defeat.
Merlin brought out his King’s Warrior and raised his eyes to look at me. “What would you like me to do?”
I moved my Queen’s Pawn forward two squares. “I don’t know what youcando. I wish we’d never brought Amhar. If I’d thought for a minute Medraut would be here, I’d never have let him come. Whatever Arthur said, I’d have put my foot down.” Though what good that would have done against the two men in my life, I couldn’t say.
The doves on the roof fluttered down into the courtyard as a servant came out and scattered corn for them. Merlin took my piece with his Pawn.
I moved a white Pawn forward to threaten his Warrior.
