Gwenhwyfar_ The White Spirit Part 16

Chapter Seventeen.

No one ever said Arthur was incapable of being a fool. said Arthur was incapable of being a fool.

Never had Gwen thought that those words would come back to haunt all of them. But they had. Arthur's current actions had brought them all to a stalemate.

A chill mist hung knee-high above the ground around a lake and billowed higher above it. It was very quiet; a little splashing somewhere out there in the mist and an occasional call of a loon or some other water bird only made the silence deeper. For some reason, even the frogs were quiet. Gwen glanced uneasily at the great tor that loomed over them all in the predawn light. There was Yniswitrin, the Isle of Gla.s.s, rising above that mist that always hung over the lake that surrounded it. At the top, if you knew what to look for, you could see a squat stone tower. That was the abode-or at least, the visible part of the abode-of Gwyn ap Nudd, one of the Kings of the Folk of Annwn, so it was said. Either there beneath that tower, or beneath the waters of the lake, or both, were entrances to Annwn, the Otherworld, itself. On the sh.o.r.es of the lake were two more poles of power. On the one side, a church and abbey of the priests of the White Christ that was over three hundred years old. And on the other, the Cauldron Well, hidden, secret, guarded by the Ladies who had their school here, where it had stood for far, far longer than the church. The three formed a triad of balancing powers, and managed a sort of uneasy truce.

But that was not why they were all here, this army of the High King's allies. Before them, also on the island, was that that reason. Built into the side of the tor, its top barely visible above the mist, was a stronghold made of stone. The fortress of Melwas of the Summer Country, a man who had once been one of Arthur's Companions, whose blood was at least as old as Arthur's, and who reason. Built into the side of the tor, its top barely visible above the mist, was a stronghold made of stone. The fortress of Melwas of the Summer Country, a man who had once been one of Arthur's Companions, whose blood was at least as old as Arthur's, and who might might have a touch of the Folk of Annwn about him. have a touch of the Folk of Annwn about him.

A man, and a king. A man and a king who had taken Queen Gwenhwyfar when Arthur was off skirmishing with the Saxons, carried her off to this fortress and was using her as his claim to supplant Arthur as High King. He had every intention of wedding her, according to all the sources, and using the claim of his old blood and hers to take the throne.

And there was rumor about the camp that Gwenhwyfar might not have gone unwillingly.

Gwen rubbed her aching head; this was all a hideous tangle, and it was only getting worse. Arthur had tried to get across the lake any number of times and had not even landed more than a handful of his men at the base of the stronghold. The mist would come up and bewilder them all, the boats would land anywhere but where they should, once a storm nearly drowned them all by all accounts, and the one time he did get some men at the foot of the castle, they'd been successfully repulsed.

She had not actually seen the High King in person, but she could well imagine the tone of his temper.

And what had happened to the Merlin did not help matters at all.

Oh, the Merlin . . . if there was anyone who might have been able to find a way to get Arthur's men onto the island, it was he. He had purportedly worked greater feats of magic in the past. He could probably have disguised Arthur as Melwas and gotten him into the fortress that way, or somehow built a bridge to the island out of the mist itself. There was only one small problem.

The Merlin was no longer in a position to conjure anything.

Though rumors were flying throughout the camp about just what, exactly, had happened to him-the wildest of which featured him being locked inside a cave, a rock, or most improbably, an oak tree, by the Lady Nineve-one of Ladies had come to Gwen as soon as she had made camp and told her precisely what had befallen the Merlin.

"He was elf-shot," the woman had said. "Though whether it was a curse, or some cruel weapon bought of the fae by Melwas, we cannot say. But as Melwas was fleeing, with Queen Gwenhwyfar as his captive, the Merlin was looked for in vain. He was found at last on the floor of his room, taken with a fit. And now he lies as one made of oak, with Nineve tending him. He cannot speak, and only his eyes seem alive."

She could not help but wonder, although she did not say, if this was the punishment for all those innocent infants he had ordered killed so long ago. Certainly now he was as helpless as an infant, as trapped within an unworking body as if he had in truth been encased in a tree.

So much for the Merlin. The Ladies, of course, did not have any sort of magic that could be used to solve Arthur's problem. And if Gwyn ap Nudd was inclined to help, well, he had not even so much as showed a light in his tower.

Gwen had turned up at the head of King Lleudd's contribution to the army; she shortly thereafter discovered that in some ways, her arrival had made things even more complicated. To begin with, there was her name. It had caused rumors to fly through the camp when she first arrived, that Arthur's queen had escaped, that she had arrived at the head of her own warriors, that she was, in fact, the ghost of Arthur's first first queen come from beyond the grave to help him. It seemed that everyone and his dog needed to come look at her to be sure that she was only herself, Lleudd Ogrfan Gawr's daughter. It had gotten to the point by sunset that she simply left her own encampment and with a small escort made a tour of Arthur's entire forces, introducing herself to all the war chiefs and making sure that everyone got a good long look at her. queen come from beyond the grave to help him. It seemed that everyone and his dog needed to come look at her to be sure that she was only herself, Lleudd Ogrfan Gawr's daughter. It had gotten to the point by sunset that she simply left her own encampment and with a small escort made a tour of Arthur's entire forces, introducing herself to all the war chiefs and making sure that everyone got a good long look at her.

That solved one problem, anyway, though now scarcely anyone called her by name. "The Giant's Daughter," they mostly called her. That was maddening, but understandable. What else were they going to do? Two Gwenhwyfars was one too many in this situation. And it wasn't as if she had yet earned one of those clever descriptive names some warriors got.

More vexing was the unspoken a.s.sumption that Gwyn ap Nudd was simply going to appear and declare himself for Arthur just because she she had turned up. had turned up.

And oh . . . what a mixed set of expectations that that was. Because not everyone here wanted a King of Annwn to turn up and make himself an ally. First and foremost of those that would object were the Christ priests. was. Because not everyone here wanted a King of Annwn to turn up and make himself an ally. First and foremost of those that would object were the Christ priests.

With the abbey so near at hand, it was not surprising that there were monks wandering about the camp; and since the abducted queen was a follower of the White Christ . . .

Well, she supposed they were finding it necessary to make it clear that they favored Arthur. If the queen had, indeed, turned her coat, then they certainly would want to show by their presence that they still favored Arthur. Although, of course, there was a further complication because Melwas himself was Christian.

Gwen felt, rather cynically, that it was possible these priests were trying to play both sides; although they were praying ostentatiously for the return of the queen, if Melwas won out, they would also be right here to be the first to proclaim him the new High King.

Whatever was on their minds, they did not not approve of anyone who consorted with "demons" as she was said to do-and evidently, a "demon," in their eyes, was any creature that was not mortal and not an "angel." approve of anyone who consorted with "demons" as she was said to do-and evidently, a "demon," in their eyes, was any creature that was not mortal and not an "angel."

The monks, therefore, did not like her, and the rumors that Queen Gwenhwyfar was not an unwilling captive were making them uneasy. And that made them even more unhappy with her her presence. She was a living reminder of everything the queen wasn't-including, it seemed, loyal to the High King. presence. She was a living reminder of everything the queen wasn't-including, it seemed, loyal to the High King.

Then there were the followers of the Old Ways, who evidently expected her to conjure up Gwyn ap Nudd, who would then divide the waters of the lake, or build a bridge of rainbows across it, or fly the entire army through the air to take it to the fortress where the queen was. And then, of course, more magic would breech the walls, and in the conquering army would go, stopping only for enough combat to make them all heroes.

After all, hadn't she won allies of the Folk of Annwn already?

Oh, it was irritating; here she had foregone the credit for striking that bargain in her marsh, only to have everyone turn right round about and decide that of course she had had done it after all. done it after all.

It made her head hurt. And she wanted to swat them all for being so foolish.

Well, she had gotten another summons, this time from Lancelin, to meet with him, some of the Companions, and some other, unspecified, leaders. And where once she would have been excited to meet with these warriors who were famed from the Channel to the Western Sea, now- Well, she just hoped they weren't expecting any magic out of her.

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She nearly jumped out of her skin when the first person she saw as she entered the fire-circle was Medraut. She restrained herself however, and by the time he turned away from the person he was talking to, a huge, broad-shouldered man who looked just about as angry as if he had strapped on a helmet full of hornets, she had composed herself.

Lancelin had spotted her by then and welcomed her, giving her a seat between himself and the angry man, who turned out to be Gwalchmai. Gwalchmai actually was was as angry as if he had strapped on a helmet full of hornets, and with good cause. He had been out in a boat trying to find a place to land; Melwas mocked him from the battlements. as angry as if he had strapped on a helmet full of hornets, and with good cause. He had been out in a boat trying to find a place to land; Melwas mocked him from the battlements.

And so did Gwenhwyfar.

Now, according to Lancelin, at best Gwalchmai had what might, at the kindest, be charitably described as a prejudice against women.

Of course, given his relationship with Anna Morgause . . .

But this was a great deal more insult than a warrior and one of Arthur's Companions could be expected to bear with an unruffled temper, even if that warrior was the next thing to a statue. Gwalchmai had, by all accounts, a nature so hot that he got into quarrels merely because he thought someone had looked at him oddly.

He glared at her as she sat down. She gave him the most sympathetic look she could muster.

His glare turned to suspicion. She shrugged and put on a rueful expression, trying to convey that she not only sympathized with him, she had no sympathy whatsoever for the queen. She caught Medraut watching them with veiled amus.e.m.e.nt.

This meeting turned out to be mostly Arthur's chief Companions. Lancelin, of course. Gwalchmai, Kai, Bors, Peredur, Geraint, Bedwyr, Trystan, Medraut, Caradoc, Dinadan. The firelight made moving shadows on their faces, these famous men, Arthur's closest comrades. Square and narrow, bearded and beardless, dark-haired, most of them, a few lighter. She supposed she should have felt intimidated by them, but they looked no different, really, from the men she had fought with and beside for all these many years. Experienced, yes, but so was she. Kai looked petulant, as if he forever labored under a grievance. Bors seemed weary, as did Bedwyr. Trystan, the nephew of March-oh, now that one gave her a chill. There was a look of doom about him, and a melancholy, as if he felt it too. Dinadan was impatient: clearly a man of action and few words. Caradoc was sardonic, and Geraint looked as if he considered everything something of a joke.

They were men, like any others. No matter that she had spent years listening to tales of their deeds. Braith had been just as courageous and deserved just as many tales. The only two that gave her pause, really, were Trystan and . . . Medraut. Of course. It was always Medraut.

There were three of the allied war chiefs she had not met yet, the chief men of three of the allied kings, sent, as Gwen herself had been sent, at the head of their forces. There was a Druid, Aled ap Meical, who seemed to be taking the Merlin's place, although he did not have the t.i.tle and looked ill-at-ease in the position. And there was a Christian priest, Gildas, who glared at the Druid and Gwen with equal impartiality; clearly he hated them both.

"I asked you all here," said Lancelin, carefully, "Because of something that happened to Gwalchmai today. I do not believe this should be bandied about the camp yet, but we need, I think, to discuss this. Old friend?"

Gwalchmai got heavily to his feet. "This afternoon, I took a squire and a boat and went to look at that b.a.s.t.a.r.d's walls," he rumbled. His s.h.a.ggy red brows furrowed together. He was a bear of a man, and he gave the impression he could easily snap an ordinary man in half with his bare hands. "I bethought the mist would keep me hidden, but I should have known my cursed luck would make sure that whatever I wanted, the opposite would happen. The mist blew off, and there I was, and there was Melwas on the tower, and if I'd had but a knife or even a stone to throw, we'd not be sitting together having this meeting, because I'd have killed him on the spot."

The last was growled with an air of frustration, and Gwen didn't blame him.

"At any rate, he commenced to flinging insults instead, and I did the same. And then, after a bit of this pleasantry, someone comes to join him. Gwenhwyfar."

Those who were not yet aware of this news exchanged uneasy looks and murmured to one another.

"If his tongue's sour, hers is like a whip," Gwalchmai continued, flushing a deep red with anger. "I'll not repeat what she said to me, though there wasn't much of it before she ended it with, 'Let us leave the loons to paddle back to their nests,' and drew Melwas away. But she looked nor sounded not like any captive."

And with that, he cast a glare at Gildas, who was plainly taken much aback.

"I came and told this straightaway to the High King and to Lancelin, and Lancelin called you here." Gwalchmai sat down again.

"This is ill hearing," Kai muttered, staring at his clasped hands. "But I cannot think what we are to do about it."

"Well, I will tell you what you are to do about it."

All their heads came up as a voice like the sound of a hunting horn cut across the silence. And one strode into their fire-circle as if he owned it and immediately caused all the hair on the back of Gwen's head to stand straight up.

He was beautiful and gold and white, with golden hair, pale skin, gold-embroidered white tunic, trews and boots. He could easily have been the brother to one of the Lake Maidens, and he was as beautiful as they were. Inhumanly so.

"Inhuman" was a very good word for him. Having seen one of the Folk of Annwn once, Gwen was not likely to forget their look again.

This one wore a thin gold circlet about his brow and a torque of gold with orm-headed finals, so there was only one person that he was likely to be.

And she was the first of them to recover her wits and realize it. She leaped to her feet and bowed deeply; she made sure that they saw her offer the ultimate respect before the others, who might not have the eyes to see what and who he was, offered him an insult.

"Greetings to the n.o.ble and generous Gwyn ap Nudd, King of the Folk of Annwn," she said, as she straightened again. "Welcome to our Council. I know that the High King counts you as a friend and one of his Companions, as well as ally."

Those who had recognized him, had also gotten to their feet and likewise bowed, a bit later than she had. Those who had not, looked stunned for a moment.

Then one by one they recovered their wits and their manners and, as Gwyn ap Nudd looked them over with amus.e.m.e.nt, scrambled to follow their example.

"Greetings, my fair cousin, fair of speech as you are of face," he replied genially. "I regret that I did not seek out the High King before this, but I had hoped that this situation would sort itself out without my intervention." He lifted one long brow at Gildas. "My meddling is not always considered welcome."

Gildas looked uneasy.

"And I have a solution to this knotty problem. If-" now he turned an ironic expression on Gildas "-if the honored and holy Abbot Gildas is prepared to follow up on the-a.s.sertion, for of course no priest would boast!-that I know that he made to his fellow monks." for of course no priest would boast!-that I know that he made to his fellow monks."

Gildas went red, then white, then red again, and back to white. He was caught, and he knew it. Whatever it was he had boasted that he could do, or at least attempt, he had done so in the hearing of Gwyn. And now he had two choices. Either try it, whatever it was, with Gwyn's help-the help of a pagan thing, perhaps a demon, certainly a creature with whom the good Christians were not supposed to consort. Or back out of whatever he had said, and be held up to ridicule by, yes, that pagan thing, that possible demon, who would no doubt find a way to mock the religion as well as the man.

The latter, clearly, was not a choice for him. He straightened, still white. "I said that I would try to bargain a settlement between Melwas and Arthur if only I could get into the fortress," Gildas said bravely. "And so I shall."

"And I shall get you in. I weary of this Melwas, who calls himself King of the Summer Country, which is one of my my t.i.tles that he usurps." The blue-green eyes turned nearly black, although that was the only sign of the King of the Annwn's anger. "I weary of him setting himself up on my island. I weary even more of the presence on my island of Arthur's queen. This quarrel stirs up my people, your iron and steel bring them discomfort, and the peace of my island has been disrupted. I want them gone from my sh.o.r.e. But he is-supposedly-a follower of your Christ. So, man of Christ, as I and mine have not troubled you in all the years of your presence, perhaps you can repay that peace by making him come to see reason." t.i.tles that he usurps." The blue-green eyes turned nearly black, although that was the only sign of the King of the Annwn's anger. "I weary of him setting himself up on my island. I weary even more of the presence on my island of Arthur's queen. This quarrel stirs up my people, your iron and steel bring them discomfort, and the peace of my island has been disrupted. I want them gone from my sh.o.r.e. But he is-supposedly-a follower of your Christ. So, man of Christ, as I and mine have not troubled you in all the years of your presence, perhaps you can repay that peace by making him come to see reason."

Gildas swallowed. "I hope I may. And if you can take me to him-"

Gwyn ap Nudd laughed softly. "Nothing easier." Before Gildas could move, or even flinch, the king had seized him by the arm.

Even Gwen could not rightly have told what happened then. To her, it looked as if Gwyn had stepped through a door, drawing Gildas after him. But there was no door there. They were there . . . and then two steps later, they were gone.

Gwen blinked and rubbed her eyes.

"Well," said Medraut into the silence. "That was curiously satisfying. I was wondering if there was anything that could silence that pompous prig."

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There was clearly nothing more to be done that night, so the council broke up, with Lancelin and Kai volunteering to tell the High King what had just transpired. The awkwardness was palpable, as no one really knew what to say or do. Gwen wondered, though, just what sort of magic they had seen before-after all, the Merlin had been an integral part of the High King's entourage since the beginning. Had he simply never done anything in their presence?

Or maybe the awkwardness was partly due to the queen's defection and partly due to the fact that Gwyn ap Nudd had just appeared and trumped them all. Whatever plans they'd had in mind would have involved more siege, more fighting. Gwyn had aborted all of those, carrying off Gildas to try and end this thing without further warfare. At the moment, they were all so taken aback that they couldn't think.

Well, if they couldn't think, they could certainly talk, talk, but she realized immediately that as she was not one of the inner circle, they were not going to do any frank talking around her. Wryly, she decided that sleep was her best option, so she bid them all farewell and started back to her encampment. but she realized immediately that as she was not one of the inner circle, they were not going to do any frank talking around her. Wryly, she decided that sleep was her best option, so she bid them all farewell and started back to her encampment.

She had gotten just out of the reach of the firelight when she realized that she was not alone. And the figure that was keeping pace with her was not one that she welcomed.

" 'Fair cousin,' is it?" said Medraut, in a tone that sounded perfectly pleasant if you didn't know him and realize there was certainly some other motivation behind his question than the wish to be conversational. "Are there folk of Annwn in your bloodline, then?"

"Not that I know of," she replied, throttling down her revulsion and replying with the same surface pleasantry. There it was again. And he was married to her sister; wouldn't he know know by now if there was fae blood in them? Or-maybe he wasn't as strong in magic as he liked to believe. "I'm sure someone would have mentioned it before this if there were. I believe that the King of the Isle of Gla.s.s was merely acknowledging that technically I am the overlord to some of his people now. Of course, he could have had some other motive; it's impossible to tell with the Folk." by now if there was fae blood in them? Or-maybe he wasn't as strong in magic as he liked to believe. "I'm sure someone would have mentioned it before this if there were. I believe that the King of the Isle of Gla.s.s was merely acknowledging that technically I am the overlord to some of his people now. Of course, he could have had some other motive; it's impossible to tell with the Folk."

"Ah, yes. Your little bargain." Medraut stalked alongside her, and with his longer legs, there was no way she could outdistance him without running. d.a.m.n him. He was the last person she wanted to talk to. You had to be at your cleverest to exchange more than a few words with him, if you didn't want him to ferret more out of you than you wanted him to know. "That was cleverly done, by the way. I salute you. I had no idea you had enough power in you to call up the Folk."

"I don't." Actually, she didn't want Medraut to think she had any magic at all. "I gave all that up when I took the warrior's path. It wasn't me that summoned them, it was Cataruna and Ifan, and even then, I think it was entirely accidental that they did so. We only summoned the waters to make a swamp, so King March would have to take his forces across Saxon lands rather than ours. I actually think that the Folk came by themselves."

"Still clever. You saw an opportunity and took advantage of it. It was a good bargain; you lost nothing but a bit of land and got some formidable guards in exchange. Morgana was annoyed that it had not occurred to her to do the same. By the way, you may congratulate me. me. I have a son." There was a flash of teeth, catching the light of a camp-fire as they pa.s.sed. "And before you ask, no, Arthur is still unaware that your sister and I are wed." I have a son." There was a flash of teeth, catching the light of a camp-fire as they pa.s.sed. "And before you ask, no, Arthur is still unaware that your sister and I are wed."

Which meant, of course, that he didn't want Arthur to know and was reminding her of her promise. "I see. Well, congratulations. You are now ahead of the High King in that game. And the queen remains childless." Unspoken was the depth of Medraut's ambition. Unspoken, too, that although Medraut was not only a b.a.s.t.a.r.d but the product of incest, when presented with a grown man, a proven warrior, with his own heirs, if Arthur died it was likely that the irregularities of Medraut's birth would be . . . overlooked. No one wanted to go through the chaos that had followed Uther's death.

"I know. I live in hope." There was another flash of teeth. "Meanwhile, I find that I quite enjoy being one of the Companions. It is a strange thing that I find get along better with my brothers now than I did at home. Gwalchmai has been a particular boon friend; he seems to appreciate my wisdom, and I certainly appreciate his muscles. Perhaps he wishes to make up for pummeling me so much as a child."

That was easy to read. Medraut was finally able to manipulate the rather dim eldest of the Orkney clan and possibly the others as well. "This is the first I have encountered any of them but you. Well, again, I give you congratulations on siring a son. Where are you keeping him and your wife?" she asked. "Surely not with Lot-"

"Oh, Morgana has her. They get along famously. " He waved a hand airily. "Like sisters, really. It's quite affecting, to see them together."

Now what did that mean? That Morgana and Gwenhwyfach hated each other as cordially as Little Gwen hated her real sisters? Or was this to mock her with; implying that Morgana and Little Gwen were alike? Surely if Morgana hated Little Gwen, she would not have her in her own castle, no matter how much she wanted to oblige Medraut. Gwen had heard stories about Morgana, who was supposedly an even more powerful sorceress than her sister, Anna Morgause. She seemed to spend half her time helping Arthur, and the other half being a thorn in his side.

But then-stories. They were only that. Men were uneasy enough around a woman with power of any sort. It would not be surprising that they made up tales about one who was powerful and refused to tie herself to any man to boot.

For just a moment, something too faint to be called a memory drifted past in her thoughts. An image, a glimpse, of Morgana and Little Gwen, side by side-but it was gone before she could grasp it.

She decided that she had better say something; she had been silent a little too long. "So long as I can a.s.sure Father she is content, that is all that matters," Gwen replied untruthfully. The reality was, somewhere down inside, she was sickened. Gwenhwyfach by herself was bad enough. Gwenhwyfach tutored by Anna Morgause was worse. And Gwenhwyfach working hand in hand with Morgana? Gwen pitied anyone foolish enough to cross them.

"Yes, well, you can tell King Lleudd anything you like," Medraut replied, stopping suddenly. That was when Gwen realized that they were at the edge of her encampment. "Just as long as you keep the oaths you swore. I have many plans in motion, and I would be very vexed if they were to be disrupted." His eyes glittered in the darkness. "Morgana and my wife would be even more disappointed than I."

That was easy to read, too. Keep my secrets, or there will be a price to pay. Keep my secrets, or there will be a price to pay. Morgana had always struck Gwen as the sort of person who liked being the hidden power and preferred to do nothing overtly. Morgana had always struck Gwen as the sort of person who liked being the hidden power and preferred to do nothing overtly.

Morgana was also, by all measures, someone who never staked all of her ambitions on one plan, or one candidate. If Medraut lost his bid for Arthur's seat, she would have a dozen more directions she could go. But Gwenhwyfach? Without a doubt, she was already, in her mind, measuring her brow for the High Queen's crown. Cataruna could probably handle Morgana and her magic if Gwen were to tell what she knew. But Gwenhwyfach, or the two of them together? Oh, no. Gwen was not minded to cross her little sister.

"And I have no plans except to serve my father and his heirs," she replied honestly. "I am a plain warrior, cousin. I have no head for grand schemes."

"Sometimes it is a good thing to have no ambition." The flash of teeth, the glitter of eyes in the dark, put her in mind of something feral. "And on that, I bid you good night. It has been a most fascinating evening, with great potential for amus.e.m.e.nt to come. We will see what the morning brings."

She was only too happy to leave him there and retreat to the safety of those she trusted.

She gave her own chiefs a brief explanation of what had happened, omitting only Gwalchmai's report of the behavior of the queen, the strange way in which Gwyn ap Nudd and Gildas had vanished-and that the King of Yniswitrin had called her "fair cousin." If the word of the queen's treachery was to be spread about the camps, she did not want it to come from her her people. And as for Gwyn ap Nudd, well, she intended to publicly distance herself from the Folk of Annwn and from magic as much as possible. Especially with Medraut snooping about. The less he thought about her, the better. people. And as for Gwyn ap Nudd, well, she intended to publicly distance herself from the Folk of Annwn and from magic as much as possible. Especially with Medraut snooping about. The less he thought about her, the better.

They accepted the news with astonishment. Then she left them to mull it over themselves. It was always better to let the men talk themselves out without her there to overhear them. It let them know that she trusted them; it also allowed them to air whatever foolishness came into their heads without the risk of looking foolish in front of her. her.

As mother once said; men are worse gossips than women ever were.

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