Camelot's Queen (Guinevere's Tale Book 2), page 23
With that threat spurring them to action, the room quickly emptied, leaving me, Arthur, and Mayda, who sat unnoticed, impassively watching the proceedings. I motioned her over to us, and she sat on the step below the dais.
“I am sure you have had plenty of time to contemplate your fate,” Arthur said gently.
Her light blue eyes were sincere when she looked at Arthur. “You are a good king. I wish my husband was so, but all he and his brother think of is power and land. All they want is to rule the whole of the island, and they will do what they must to feed their ambition.”
She shifted her gaze to me. “I knew what I was doing when I made the decision to come to you today. I knew I was as good as dead no matter the outcome. If they caught me, if I was lucky, I’d only be badly beaten. But more likely, I would be killed outright for I abandoned my husband, betrayed my ruler—my Aetheling—and shamed my family. But after the kindness you showed me when I was in peril, I could not stand by while they destroyed your kingdom. I want to live in Britain as much as anyone, but not if it means doing so at the price of another’s blood. A title and a throne are not worth so great a sacrifice.”
“You show a compassion not often displayed by your people, especially by one so young,” Arthur remarked. “You have nothing to fear from us. Consider whatever obligation you feel paid in full.”
“I give you thanks, but it will not be settled until the last of my blood has drained from my body. My sister will be sure of that.”
I took both of her hands in mine. “Mayda, you have in effect given up your life, at least as you knew it, to help us. In turn, we wish to help keep you safe. We could provide you with a holding in an obscure village. That is one option, but you would still live in constant fear.” I glanced at Arthur. “What we propose instead will require even more sacrifice from you. There is a convent in Bernicia which has taken in women of your race before, those who sought refuge after the battle of York. I can arrange safe passage for you if you are willing to spend the remainder of your days there.”
Mayda’s mouth was open, but no words came out. She stood and paced from one end of the stair to the other and back again, slowly finding her voice. “I can never leave? Even if those who hunt me are dead? So I am to be imprisoned for my kindness?” She looked at me to confirm her suspicion, left hand fluttering near her mouth.
I chose my words carefully, not wishing to alarm her further. “Think about your options. If you continue running, you will be looking over your shoulder until the day you find a knife buried in your back. Yes, a convent can resemble a prison cell, but you would not be alone there. You would have sisters who speak your language, will teach you a trade, and will help you learn their ways. I cannot offer you much, but this is a guarantee of safety, a home, and warm food to fill your belly.”
“But I know nothing of this god. Why would they take such as me?”
“The sisters would rather see those who have no other options slowly come to love their god than die in the streets. They act only out of compassion. I doubt you will get the same offer from your sister.”
Mayda shot me an evil look, making her look like a younger version of Elga, but I could see her resolve melting. She knew she had no other choice.
“Ja, ja, I will go,” she said at last. “But please make certain no one knows of this, or it will all be for nothing.”
“You have our word,” Arthur said. “There is a sister at a nearby convent who will accompany you along with one of my guard.”
Mayda’s eyes grew wide. “What if this sister betrays me?”
“She will do no such thing. She is foresworn not to.” Arthur handed her a small roll of paper. “This will guarantee your safe passage. But you cannot be known by your given name lest your true identity be discovered. What name do you wish me to inscribe here?”
“Call me Udele. I know it was what my sister bade you call her before you discovered who we were, but it was my mother’s name, and it is the only way I can take my family with me.”
Arthur wrote her name as she requested and called for one of the waiting women. “Take this lady to the convent and see she is safely on her way before returning.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Just over a week later, we were standing atop the outer palisade of the fort of Mount Badon, watching as Arthur’s men hid a circular ditch around the perimeter of the fort with dried grass and bracken. Alle and Octha were experienced campaign leaders, so we had no hope of fooling them outright with this most rudimentary of defenses, but by felling the grass fifty handspans on either side, we could at least hope to fool them into charging into it. Those unfortunate enough to do so would be greeted by a grave of sharp wooden spikes. Because the ditch was asymmetrical, the remaining troops would be wary of where they placed their tread, leaving them vulnerable to our archers and slingers who would launch their missiles from the wall on which we now stood.
Arthur paced, running a hand through his golden hair as though he was afraid he was forgetting something. “Will you read the stones again?”
“Arthur, I have told you I must see the size and composition of the army to be able to give you a definite outcome. For now, the best I can do is conjecture, and based on that, the stones say the same thing as they have from the beginning. Your strategy of coming at them from all sides will lead us to victory, but only if we ensure the tower is well guarded. The reasons are not clear, but we will need adequate defenses behind the second wall.”
“That means they will certainly breech the boundary wall,” Arthur mumbled.
“Did you really expect they would not? The best we can hope for is to slow them down long enough for the rest of our plan to be in place. Failing that, we are well supplied, and they are far from home, so there is always the chance we can starve them into submission, pick them off one by one as they forage for food.”
Arthur stopped beside me and looked out over the town of Aque Sullis. “Pray it does not come to that. Even if we succeed in cutting off their shipments, they can always turn to plunder. Even with Gawain and Bedivere’s efforts to relocate the people, I am certain most of the populace will stay in their homes. If the Saxons starve, the people are as doomed as fattened calves. Yet if we send in a reserve unit to defend the town, we tip our hand.”
I raised his hand and rested my cheek in its warm, calloused hollow. “The Morrigan is with us. I swear she will give us her backing.”
For a long time, we stood motionless save for our breathing, watching the setting sun burnish the horizon in brilliant amber. Mark’s and Constantine’s troops from Dyfneint and Cornwall were already here, as were Pelles’s from the Summer Country. Morgan had arrived only a few hours earlier with her guard and the armies from Gwynedd and Dyfed were due to arrive soon. At least we had that in our favor. When those from distant lands would appear was anyone’s guess, as was the location of our enemy.
Snatches of conversation crossed the distance to my ears as Lancelot and Bors instructed the men at the gatehouses to watch for any sign of the incoming army.
“They will come at us from the northeast via Fosse Way, which passes right below the fort. By this, they will hope to cut off our food supply and any defenses we may summon from the east,” Lancelot said. “Be on your guard for you know not when they will arrive.”
As I watched the town of Aque Sullis bolt its doors and shutter its windows to the oncoming war, I thought how odd it was to see such a thriving town so utterly deserted. When Viviane and I traveled from Northgallis to Avalon so many years ago, we had spent the night in this town, taking in the healing waters of the shrine. Nearly a decade later, the cries of the street vendors hawking their wares still rang in my memory and the thought of the warm spiced flatbread we ate caused my mouth to water. But when I made myself look at the town as it was now, the bustle of activity was replaced with the void of uncertainty, its exotic aroma supplanted by the stink of fear.
Thinking of my last time in the area and the new life it had brought to me, my mind drifted to Mayda. I wondered how she was faring on her own journey to a fate she’d never anticipated.
I glanced at Arthur. “You were not so surprised when Mayda interrupted our audience, husband. Tell me, how do you know one of the Saxons’ highest-ranking women?”
Arthur’s eyes gleamed with mirth despite the gravity we were facing. “I could ask you the same question. I was surprised that she came—that I did not expect. But I recognized her voice. She was there when I fought alongside your father at York. Her younger brother had been taken prisoner, and she begged me to spare his life, a request I daresay we may all regret as he is a powerful leader in the Saxon army. I heard no such tearful pleading from her sister, who I have little doubt would have regarded her brother as a hero had he died by my sword.”
“She is cruel. That is for certain,” I agreed.
“And what is the service Mayda wished to thank you for?”
I crossed my arms, hugging my shoulders, and turned away from him. “When we were lodging in Saxon territory on our way to Dyfed, Elga came to the door disguised as a peasant, asking for a midwife. I delivered Mayda’s baby, a boy who lived only a few hours—much like our own. But unlike our child, Mayda’s was murdered, killed by Elga’s hand as soon as I was out the door.” I shivered at the memory.
To my great disappointment, Arthur did not look appalled or even surprised. “Such is the fate of many an unwanted heir.” He saw my expression and hastened to explain. “I may well have suffered the same misfortune without Merlin’s wisdom. He alone understood the danger my life posed and so sent me away from my parents. Mayda’s son was not so lucky.”
I was about to reply when Gawain and Bedivere passed through the gates, shouting a hearty greeting. They were trailed by a cluster of fifty or so men, women, and children, all of whom I presumed chose to seek refuge in the fort rather than flee or take their chances in their own homes.
We met them in the courtyard just as the night fires were being lit. Arthur gave instructions to the families as to where they could stay and take refreshment and where to gather at sunrise so they could be secreted away to safety. It was only when they had departed that I noticed the dozen or so women who remained behind. They were all clad in warrior’s breeches and armed from their copper-belted swords to the daggers in their boots and the deadly pins in their hair. It was clear before I even reached Arthur’s side that they had come to fight.
I heard Sobian’s accented voice before I picked her out in the dancing flames of torchlight. As usual, she was at Arthur’s side, joking with him and touching him in a familiar manner that suggested a sordid past between them. Funny how after all we had been through together, her flirting no longer bothered me.
“Did you really believe we would pass up a chance to fight, Arthur Pendragon?” Sobian laughed. “We’re women of blood and iron, of that you can be sure. Where else in all the land will you find a group of warriors who have learned from experience to defend themselves in any situation? Land, sea, river”—she gestured around her—“hill fort, it makes no difference. Flesh is cleaved the same way, and blood runs just as quickly. Please, let us provide service to you. After all, it is the least we can do for your kindness in helping set me and my lasses into an honest life.”
Bors returned from the wall just in time to hear the last part of Sobian’s request. “Arthur, you are not considering this preposterous proposal, are you? Who lets a woman fight? The lot of you should be off at dawn with the others so you will be safe.”
Sobian snorted. “Safe from whom? There is no guarantee those who flee this place will make it to safety. For all we know, the Saxons could be out there right now, surrounding us and voiding our best laid plans—”
“‘Our’?” Bors mocked. “This is our fight, not yours, woman. Get back to the hearth where you belong.”
Sobian had a long dagger at Bors’s throat before he’d even finished speaking. “Say aught like that again, I will have not only your head but your stones as well.”
“Stop it, you two.” I stepped between them, forcing Sobian to lower her weapon. “Save your hatred for the Saxons. We need all the fighters we can get inside the keep, remember? I say let them fight if they wish.” I turned to Bors. “As to your question of who lets a woman fight—I do. I will be on the ramparts with you, and there is nothing you can do to stop it. You can thank me once the battle is over.”
Dawn broke a misty gray in the valley below, shrouding the village and road from view. In the courtyard behind the second palisade, a press of women, children, elders, and others who would or could not defend the fort shuffled from foot to foot, waiting on Arthur’s orders.
Deep within the hillside ran a system of tunnels which led in and out of the fort through the thick forest behind it. Originally constructed to ferry troops in and out of the garrison, it would now be used to move innocents to safety without alerting the Saxons. Elaine had come with us from Corbenic for this very purpose.
At the center of the throng, Elaine wrung her hands, fretting. “Guinevere, I do not think I can do this alone. I am not familiar with the area. What if I get us all lost or killed?”
I placed my hands on her shoulders, forcing her to stand still. “We are not sending you off without a guard, you goose. If you fear losing your way, let one of the locals guide you out. It is only a little more than a day’s hike from here to Cardiff. Once you emerge from the caves, just follow Fosse Way northwest, and you will eventually see the port. All you need do is stay strong for them until you can get them safe housing across the estuary in Dyfed. And if anyone can do that, it is you. It is your land, after all. I have faith in you.”
Elaine smiled softly and took a deep breath. “If you believe I can do it, then I know I can.”
I squeezed her shoulders and signaled to Arthur, who handed Elaine a green flag raised high on a pole.
He raised his voice above the din. “Everyone who is leaving should follow the Lady Elaine and her green banner. She will lead you to safety across the channel.”
The line moved slowly, inching single file through the doors of the keep and down into the darkness of the underground passages. When most of the crowd had disappeared, Arthur approached a score of women who stood, unmoving, near the gate. Octavia was among them.
“You should hurry if you wish to keep up with the others,” he urged.
“We’re not going,” said a black-haired woman wearing the apron and cap of a baker or cook. She crossed her massive arms, which could have rivalled most of the Combrogi’s and, I had a feeling, wielded a deadly iron pan. “If they get to stay and defend this fort”—she rolled her eyes at Sobian and her band of female pirates—“so do we. I have cooked for these men for twenty years. I am not going to abandon them now. Besides, who do you think will tend the soup pot and change bandages while you are giving orders? Mouths don’t fill themselves, and you’ve got no camp women to assist you here.”
Arthur could not argue with her, so the women stayed behind under Morgan’s command, tending to the necessities of the fort while the rest of us waited on the ramparts, watching the fog slowly thin. I was grateful Elaine and her party would have some natural camouflage to bring good fortune to the beginning of their journey.
It was nearly midmorning when shouts arose from the watchtowers. The valley below was becoming clear, but I had to rub my eyes at what I saw. Peeking out of the mists were the tips of hundreds of tents, smoke from the cook fires competing with the fog to obscure the enemy army from sight. Their temporary camp stretched as far as I could see, eventually melting into the trees on the horizon.
There had to be nearly a thousand men camped in front of us—more than twice our number. How could they have made camp since nightfall without arousing any suspicion? Men could be ordered to be silent, but no matter how well-trained the animals, they whinnied and stamped as they willed, yet the guards who watched swore they’d heard nary a sound. It was as though they were phantoms from a previous war, there to reenact a battle long since decided. I shivered, wondering what magic they could have wrought to go unnoticed.
The warriors looked so small from my vantage point, as though I was a god looking down upon the earth and could crush them under my thumb. But it would not be nearly so easy—that much I knew. As the view became clearer, I watched those closest to the outer palisade as they went about their business, clearly preparing for their first maneuver. Bushy-bearded men mended leather armor and sharpened spears of varying lengths while boys with long poles poked at the piles of grass and bracken, trying to determine the boundaries of the trenches. Several armored women were practicing attack and defense. On the outskirts of the camp, the ring of axes signaled the felling of trees for firewood and, I feared, the building of siege weapons.
Not wanting to waste precious time, I took up my board of Holy Stones and arranged an accurate ratio of their troops to ours, accounting for the spears, swords, and stone hurlers I had seen plus the handful of archers they likely kept well out of view.
I closed my eyes and tried to imagine the scene from their perspective. Even without the sight, it was not difficult to imagine how impressive the fortress must appear to an army used to battle in open fields. Directly before them was the span of broken grass, trampled as though under a hundred hooves. Beyond lay a ring of bright green grass, a seemingly innocent lot that put any fortunate enough to cross the chasm directly in the sights of our archers atop a long wall of sharp, thick wooden stakes that stuck out of the ground like hundreds of angry styluses. Three gatehouses flanked the main entry, with two more at intervals on either side to guard the indirect approaches. Beyond, the massive triangular hill dominated the landscape, its steep grassy slopes a formidable challenge for even the most experienced of climbers. From this vantage point, the thin silhouette of the fort itself rose like a rearing horse, surrounded by yet another ring of spiked timber.
