Page 90 of The Road to Avalon
As the last rider joined the column heading for the gate, a shadow moved in the dark stable entrance. Morgawse, her hands clasped to her heart. She made a lonely figure, watching her son ride to what I hoped would be his certain death. I couldn’t spare the time to think of her.
Medraut was already riding through the gates, his men behind him.
Now that I felt differently about Arthur, it was good to have someone else to aim my fury at. If thoughts could have come true, Medraut would already be lying dead behind his horse, never mind heading out to die on the battlefield. Manipulative bastard. Everything he’d done had been leading to this. Morgana might have had a slightly different objective, but she’d played into Medraut’s clever hands with the help she’d given him.
Only she’d lost. While she lay dead, he was still here, like Banquo’s ghost at the feast, a constant, unwanted presence.
He’d casually slaughtered Llacheu after the fight between my sons, knowing full well that everyone would think Amhar had murdered his brother. And knowing how it would affect Arthur’s relationship with me, he’d stood back and let Arthur assume Amhar’s guilt. Probably he’d even suggested to Amhar that his father believed it was him and he should run.
He’d driven a wedge between me and my husband as thick as a redwood tree, and I’d let him. Because of Medraut and how he’d manipulated Amhar, I’d hated Arthur, shunned him, ill-wished him. Maybe that was why he’d gone to Armorica– to put more distance between himself and me. Maybe because of that, I’d made it possible for Medraut to seize power. And on top of everything, I’d run off with Arthur’s precious daughter, because that slimeball Medraut wanted her for his wife.
Inside my head a nagging voice kept telling me I should have seen this coming, that I was stupid to have missed his hand in this. Like an idiot, I’d believed Morgawse when she’d told me he couldn’t have done it. I hadn’t seen she was a mother like me, who couldn’t believe a son of hers capable of committing such a callous crime. I’d been so taken up in half believing Amhar had done it, I’d missed that Medraut had been the guilty one.
God, Iwasstupid.
The tail end of Medraut’s force– how many of them were there?– disappeared down the track to the gate, the morning sun reflecting off their bright armor. Riding out to the fate of Camlann.
A sword.I had to have a sword.
I ran across the summit of the hill, careless now of anyone seeing me. No one who could do anything to stop me remained.
Morgawse’s head turned as I raced past, her mouth hanging open.
The armory stood on its own beside the training ground. I shoved the wooden latch across and wrenched open the door.
Darkness.
Blinking, I stepped inside. A good array of weapons, but all I needed was a sword and dagger and maybe a spear. Easily found. I slipped the sword and dagger into the empty sheaths hanging on my belt, feeling better by the moment. No longer naked and vulnerable.
Without bothering to shut the doors, I raced to the ramparts and galloped up the steps to the wall-walk. No guards remained. Careless of my breath rasping in my chest, I hurtled around the perimeter, booted feet thumping on the wood, toward the now closed gates that overlooked the western plain and the River Cam.
Medraut’s army had reached flat ground and was heading west, like a deadly glittering snake, kicking up a cloud of dust as they jog-trotted toward their foe. Shading my eyes, I peered beyond them. Further off, more armor glittered bravely in the sun, and weapons flashed. Warriors, waiting in a line, spread out ready for battle. A banner rippled in the breeze. A black bear reared up against a white background.
“Arthur.” His name came out on an exhaled breath, like a prayer.
But what was my plan? Not to stay here, that was for sure.
I almost tumbled down the steps beside the gates and charged up the steep hill toward the Hall. Morgawse had moved up from the stables to stand by the doors, her face white and drawn. She grabbed my arm and yanked me to a halt. “What’re you doing?”
I shook her off. “Stopping your bloody son’s rebellion,” I snarled back at her.
She fell back a step as though I’d hit her. I left her and ran inside. Empty, but for young Cyngal sitting at one of the tables, head down and nursing a goblet in his clasped hands.
I skidded to a halt in front of him. “Cyngal. Your brother’s ridden out in rebellion against the High King. Are you going to sit here drinking and let him commit treason? Your true King has his men lined up out there on the plain, and he needs our help. Will you join with me?”
Cyngal raised his head. A handsome boy, he had a head of shaggy brown hair the long hot summer had streaked with highlights and a wispy beard. “What makes you think I’m on his side? Just because I won’t take up arms against Arthur, doesn’t mean I want to join him. Why should I takeanyside in this?”
I glared at him. “Because my husbandwould. He’s always ready to support any British king against our enemies and right nowheneedsyoursupport. He came to Ebrauc’s aid fourteen years ago, the moment he was asked. He fought by the side of your father, Dyfnwal. It wasArthur’sarmy that saved Ebrauc from the Saxons. Saved the lives of you, your brother and all your family. Will you stand by and let Medraut steal my husband’s kingdom?”
Cyngal sighed and rubbed eyes bloodshot from too many nights spent drinking our Falernian with his so-called friends. “Medraut will kill me if I join you. And what difference will one man make? Or one woman.”
I banged my fist on the table in front of him. “He’s going to kill you anyway for not supporting him, if you sit back and let him win and he rides back in here as the lawful king. He’s a man with no moral conscience, and he’ll swat you like a fly for not supporting him. And by doing nothing, you’re helping him. You’re not the only one who’s refused to fight. There are other warriors here who haven’t ridden out with Medraut this morning. Help me gather them, and we’ll join Arthur. You owe it to him. You wouldn’t even be alive if he hadn’t come to Ebrauc’s aid. You think the Saxons would have let any member of Coel’s royal family live if they’d captured Ebrauc? They’d have raped your mother over and over and skewered you and your brother on spears for fun.”
Cyngal looked up at me out of his hungover, red-rimmed hazel eyes. “You really believe we can make a difference, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I said. “I do. Are you with me? Are you joining the winning side?”
I sensed the balance shift. I had him. He was mine.
