Page 83 of The Road to Avalon
Bethan patted my arm, and I managed a smile for her. Then, girding up my metaphorical loins, I stepped past the two young men and marched, with more determination than I felt, up to the gates and into the horse-filled courtyard. Most of the men had remained mounted, and now they moved aside like the parting of the Red Sea to let me pass. Young faces, all of them. Arthur would have taken his most experienced warriors away with him.
My eyes went to the open church door visible between the horses, and for a moment it occurred to me that I could bolt for it. But a lot of men and horses stood between me and the doorway, and Bran and Cyngal were right behind me. They’d catch me in a few strides, and I’d lose my dignity being grappled to the ground. I shelved that idea as well and turned my head toward the abbot’s office.
At the doors, I paused to draw a supporting breath, then pushed it open and walked in.
With Abbot Jerome getting no better and still confined to his bed, Gildas occupied the seat behind the desk, sitting upright and at attention, his clever eyes meeting mine as I entered. In front of the desk stood two men– Medraut beside Cinbelin, his short ginger friend from Alt Clut. They turned toward me as the door banged shut.
“Gwen,” Medraut purred, as though he were here on a visit to take afternoon tea. “What a pleasure to see you again, and not hiding inside the church this time. How lucky am I. Do come in and sit down.” He pulled out one of the two seats in front of the desk and stood holding its back. “Here. Sit here.” Menace laced that simple invitation.
I could have stayed by the door, insisted I preferred to stand and looked an idiot, but I didn’t. I played him at his own game. “Why, thank you.” I smiled my sweetest smile and sat down, folding my hands in my lap, instinct telling me to cover up my ring.
Medraut took the second seat, and Cinbelin stood behind it, feet planted wide, arms folded across his broad chest, for all the world like a gingery canine guard. A pit bull, maybe.
Gildas cleared his throat. “I’ve just informed my Lord Medraut that the Princess Archfedd is no longer here and has not been for some time.”
A slight frown slid across Medraut’s ostensibly affable face before he had it under control and hidden. “It seems the bird has flown.” That smile again, knowing and smug. “But I feel there will be alternatives on offer.” He let his insolent gaze run over my body in a way that sent a shiver down my spine. “If I can’t have the daughter, then I’ll take the mother. For now.”
I pressed my lips together.
He grinned in self-satisfaction, a man who knew he’d checkmated me. “The added bonus of having you instead of her will be the dragon ring you’re wearing, and the belief that the man who holds you will be High King.”
Gildas didn’t rise to his feet, but he seemed to grow larger in his seat, like a bull frog inflating its body. “I have promised sanctuary to the Queen,” he said. “You will not violate the law of sanctuary.”
Medraut chuckled, and Cinbelin joined in, reminding me of Muttley in The Whacky Races. “I don’t see her hiding in sanctuary right now.” Medraut’s upper lip curled in a sneer. “I see her here in your office. Sanctuary is your church, not here. She’s coming with me.”
My sword. If only I had it, I could defend myself from these two. They’d kill me if I attacked them, but surely death would be preferable to accompanying Medraut back to Din Cadan as his prisoner. But my sword was in my little chamber at the back of the church. It might as well have been on top of the Tor.
Medraut steepled his fingers. “I’ve even brought a horse with me especially. Mind you, as I’d hoped it would be Archfedd I’d be returning with, it’s not your own horse. She’s back at Din Cadan, you’ll be pleased to hear. I’m sure you’ll be happy to see her again.”
“I’m not coming to Din Cadan with you,” I said, the effort to remain calm enormous. “I live here now. And you have no right to take me back. I’m your Queen. It is you who must do as I say, and I say that you must leave Ynys Witrin immediately.”
He laughed again. “Oh, Gwen, keep up, can’t you? I didn’t come here for Archfedd because I needed her to bolster my right to be her father’s heir. I came here to get her because she crossed me. As did you. No one gets away with that.” His callous eyes stared into mine. “But you encouraged her in her rebellion. You helped her flee. So, I’ll take you instead. You’re still beautiful. I could enjoy having you in my bed. I’m sure you know a lot more than she does about how to pleasure a man.”
“You will not touch your Queen,” Gildas said, his voice ringing out in the small room. “She is the wife of the High King and in my care. I forbid you to do this.”
Medraut’s head moved in a slight nod, and in an instant Cinbelin stepped around the table and set the tip of his sword against Gildas’s throat, indenting the stubbly skin.
To do him credit, Gildas was undaunted. “This is my abbey, and you will leave. Now,” he roared, like a lion defending his cubs. Did he see me that way? Was I his cub? Or was he the sacrificial bishop in this game of chess?
The sword tip pressed harder, and blood trickled down his throat into the neckline of his habit.
“If he speaks again, kill him,” Medraut said.
Cinbelin, whom I’d previously thought a harmless young man, nodded, his eyes alight with excitement and blood lust. He looked as though he hoped Gildas would speak and enable him to make the killing blow.
“It’s all right, Gildas,” I said, my voice shaking a little despite my efforts to prevent it. “Don’t speak. You mustn’t die for me. You have much work to do and many books to write.”One book in particular.
Medraut’s look of satisfaction grew. How I wanted to smack it off his ugly face.
“Oh,” he said, as he rose from his seat. “One more thing. How remiss of me to almost forget when it’s one of the most important things about today. The reason why I came, really.” He winked at me. Yes, winked.
I gripped the arms of my seat so hard my knuckles whitened, itching for the feel of my sword or dagger in my hand.
“My Aunt Morgana was kind enough to inform me some time ago that you are hiding the Sword of Destiny here in your abbey. Some time before she died at the hands of that fake magic man of my uncle’s, she suggested I might need it.”
He winked again as though making me complicit in this. “I had the good fortune to spend some time with my aunt in Viroconium. She made out she wanted to support me, but I saw through her. It was that brat of hers she wanted everything for. But luckily, my little cousin’s vanished along with Merlin. Good riddance to both of them.” He leaned forward in his seat. “And now I shall have my uncle’s sword– the one he drew from the stone to prove he should be High King.” He beamed around at us. “And I shall be High King myself.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
