Camelot's Queen

CHAPTER 5-1

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER FIVE

It hadn’t rained in weeks. Not a single drop had fallen since after midsummer, and soon Lughnasa would be upon us. In the withering fields and cramped stables, cattle and horses swatted at biting flies, and dogs lolled in alleyways or nipped at one another in the streets, irritated to restlessness by the oppressive heat.

Indoors, the Combrogi were little better. Malegant picked yet another fight with Lancelot, who was being vigorously defended by Garheis, Aggrivane’s youngest brother and Lancelot’s strongest devotee. At least Tristan wasn’t there to stir the pot. King Mark’s decision to call him back to Cornwall was fortuitous. Tristan disliked Malegant but regarded Lancelot even less kindly, so he would have done all he could to egg them both on.

Today was pleading day, the one day of the month when anyone—slave, servant, freeman, or noble—could lay their suit before us in open court. Because of Arthur’s continued time in council with them, the majority of the Combrogi also were present, ready to accept any complaint of behalf of their lords. Most months saw an onslaught of petitioners who waited hours to stand before the throne, but on this day, few arrived to make their cases. The nobles most likely didn’t wish to sully their trousers with sweat by leaving their dwellings while the poor were in the dehydrated fields, scratching in vain at the unyielding ground for some source of water to quench the thirst we all felt.

I had tried several times to call down a shower from the clouds to no avail. Some part of me knew it would take more than my power alone to break the stranglehold of this heat, but I had to try. I had summoned rain when I became a priestess and a hundred times before, but it seemed the baby was diverting my energy. The most I could muster was a few wispy clouds that dissipated as quickly as they gathered. So I was awaiting word from Avalon, where I had sent Viviane an urgent request for a rain ritual on our behalf. I didn’t know how the rest of the country was faring, but if Camelot’s condition was any indication, we were all well on our way to ruin. I prayed that was not the case.

From my seat on the dais, I watched Gawain charming, or rather harassing, one of the courtiers on the far side of the room. At first she seemed taken in by his smile and whatever seductive words he spoke softly into her golden hair, but when his hands roamed a little too freely, she turned and smacked him hard across the cheek.

Peredur burst out laughing, applauding her courage, and Arthur snarled for all of them to settle down. Sometimes I felt as if I was living in a castle full of overgrown children. Finally Arthur kicked them all out, saying he and I would wait out the last of the pleading hours alone.

Lancelot and Malegant slunk out down opposite hallways as soon as Arthur’s tirade ended. Peredur and Gawain were making plans to meet in the tiltyard when we heard the alarmed voices of the guards outside.

“Messengers for the king,” one cried while the rest was garbled by chaos we could not see.

We all jumped to our feet and advanced toward the door, but it opened with a thud before any of us could reach it. A body slumped into the room, another slightly less injured man following and hovering over the prone figure before us. Arthur swore, and I recognized the distinctive uniform worn by the soldiers from the milecastles, small forts along Hadrian’s Wall. Arthur circled the bleeding husk of a man, and I knelt to examine his wounds.

“It’s a miracle he survived the journey, but I fear he will not live to tell his tale,” I said, shaking my head sadly as the soldier’s life drained out at my feet.

“He doesn’t need to,” Arthur said grimly, pointing the toe of his boot at the man’s uniform, which was more toga than tunic. “Nor was he meant to. This was the message we were meant to receive. He is Tremonium’s general, so if he is here, chances are good there is no one left to save at the fort.” He rounded on the mute second man, clearly the horseman who had carried the general to us. “How did you escape with your life?”

The man looked at Arthur with a mixture of horror and shock etched into his ashen features. He was shaking and could only stare. I fetched him some wine, and he drank what he could with unsteady hands. The rest spilled onto the floor where it became indistinguishable from the general’s blood.

“Chief Caw,” he sputtered, unable to say more.

Even behind the emotion, the horseman’s voice had a familiar inflection it took me a moment to place. He was Votadini. Why would the Damnonii chieftain send a Votadini man as a courier from a fort mostly populated by Strathclyde Britons? The hair on the backs of my arms raised. It made no sense yet could not be without meaning.

The solider had found his voice again but only just. “Dead, every one—men, women, horses too.”

Arthur growled and struck a vase with his fist, sending it shattering to the ground. He ignored the shards grinding into the stone beneath his boots as he paced. “He would have known that fort was more than a garrison. It was a shelter for lowland villagers in times of distress. If there had been any whiff of trouble—and I promise you he gave them one—they would have headed for the safety of its walls like sheep. Heartless bastard.”

The servants around us stood like statues, shocked by Arthur’s outburst.

Recovering myself, I gestured to the women nearest to me. “Ladies, please take our wounded messenger to the infirmary and see he be tended to.”

As for the general, there was nothing anyone could do.

“We ride to Tremonium then,” Kay resolved, already heading toward the stables.

Arthur put out a hand to stop him. “No. Not now. That is exactly what Caw expects us to do. He’s counting on us to swoop in on a rescue mission. It would make us easy targets, well-contained for his hordes. No, I will play this out in my own time.” He continued to pace. “Now we wait. Let them grow restless, unsure. Let them wonder. Did the general die on the road to Camelot? Did Caw’s dramatic message fail to make it to the king? Was the king unmoved? Better yet, does the king now lie in wait for him? I want all of these questions, all of these fears, to be chasing their tails around his mind before we move to retaliate.”

When he finally halted at the base of the dais, I expected to see the familiar gleam of triumph in his eyes, but instead he turned a look of great distress upon me.

“He’s heading to Lothian,” Arthur said. “Why else send a Votadini with the general? They share tribal bounds with Lot and are his strongest allies. This was no random act of terror but a show of power to indicate what is to come. He’s plotting to overthrow the kingdom and seize power for himself.”

I was struck dumb by Arthur’s words. If that was true, then Chief Caw had gone mad. The Votadini and the people of Lothian wanted nothing of war. I highly doubted this move had Damnonii backing either. The peace they had built was far too precious for any of them to risk.

Bedivere must have been thinking along a similar track. “Arthur, do you see what he is doing? If Lothian falls and the Votadini cower, nothing is stopping him from marching south to sack York, which is already weakened thanks to repeated Saxon attacks. From there he would have free rein into Brigante territory and would have amassed a force great enough to bring down even Camelot. It’s not an original plan, another fool tried it about three hundred years ago, but it is a formidable one.”

Arthur moved into action. “Then we have little time. Gawain, Aggrivane, send our fastest messengers on the most direct route to your mother and make her aware of the situation. Caw has a few days on us, and I do not want Ana taken by surprise. Follow the messengers with our strongest forces and meet us at Traprain Law, but do not take the main roads. I don’t want to risk the Damnonii anticipating our movements. And summon Tristan from Cornwall. Tell him to ride night and day. We will need his skills.”

He turned to Kay and Bedivere. “Since the two of you know the area the best, I am sending you as scouts up to Tremonium. Look around and see if you can gauge what we are in for, where the threat is greatest. I’m not sure if they will have moved on to Lothian yet, and if so, with what percentage of their forces. Even if they have split, if we can take down part of their army, we will be stronger for it.”

“Best not appear as soldiers though,” I warned. “Disguise yourselves as farmers or shepherds. Pretend to be picking around the ruins for scraps of stone or whatever else you can find to enlarge your pens. If the Damnonii insurgents even suspect who you are, their archers will pierce you through before you can draw breath.”

For the first time since the general’s arrival, Arthur relaxed a little as he recognized the advantage of having a battle-trained wife to relieve some of his burden. “A very wise bit of advice you’d do well to heed. I would like to see you both returned to my presence alive.”

The two men regarded each other with familiar humor, and Bedivere looked down at the stump of his deformed left arm. “I guess this means I am your servant again. Just once I would like to be the master but have yet to find anyone who believes me a proper threat.”

“Until they have your javelin sticking in their gorge, that is,” Kay added with a hearty laugh. He was clearly looking forward to the adventure.

“The rest of you,” Arthur addressed the remaining crowd, “brief your men, make your preparations, and say your farewells. We ride with the morning star.”

It took me all night to convince Arthur to let me come with him to Traprain Law. He sought to exclude me only out of love and concern, but it rankled me nonetheless. These were my mother’s people, and her influence had made me loathe to be kept out of any situation in which my skills could be of use. Even more, I had to admit I feared being left home alone, useless like a dairy maid, while Arthur and everyone I cared about risked their lives. I was a battle queen, and I was going to act like one, pregnant or no.

“You are in no condition to make such a long journey. We will be riding fast and hard, and I will not risk the life of our heir to appease your self-worth,” he said, seeing my intentions for what they were.

I should have been more concerned about the fate of my baby, but I believed that as long as I stayed out of the thick of battle and atop my horse, we would both be fine. And like it or not, Arthur needed me there as strategic collaborator.

“I am not yet so heavy with child that I cannot sit upon a horse. Even Octavia will attest to that,” I retorted.

Arthur’s look warned me he was growing tired of our argument. “Would you have me trundle across the country in a chariot with you? Or perhaps you would prefer a cart? I will not slow us down or place you in any danger, Guinevere.” His voice was laced with the guilt he would feel should any misfortune befall us.

But in the end, he succumbed, and I took my place next to him at the head of the line. Following my warning to Kay and Bedivere, Arthur split up our forces into reasonably sized groups and had us all outfitted to appear as bands of pilgrims on holiday to the holy springs and lakes that dotted the northern lands. He kept us off the old Roman roads and led us down a series of ancient byways and trails, navigating based on the expertise of a Combrogi named Bors who had spent his life in the area.

After an exhausting three-day journey, we rested at Traprain Law, a little more certain of our safety with our two armies combined. But now there was the question of how to proceed. We had anticipated a quick confrontation with a definite outcome, but that did not appear to be the way things were working out.