Darkwell - Douglas Niles [27]
Slowly he convinced himself of a lie: that she had bewitched him somehow into betraying his beloved. His mind would not accept the reality, that the betrayal occurred because his own will was weak.
He thought of the celebration, still proceeding in the hall. As midnight approached, the revelry would be reaching its height. The bitter knowledge of his shame held him to his seat. He could not bear the looks that would fall upon him from his friends, his subjects. Daryth's burning look of accusation as he had left the hall came unbidden into his mind's eye.
The longer he sat and brooded, the blacker his mood became. He leaped to his feet and paced the length of the large bedroom, raging silently. He would make it up to Robyn, he vowed! He would go to Myrloch Vale and confront the evil there with the Sword of Cymrych Hugh! Then she would know the depths of his love for her.
Somehow this made his shame bearable. He walked from the room, passing slowly by Robyn's door. Tempted to knock, instead he listened softly for a moment but heard nothing.
Then he went down the wide stairway and reentered the Great Hall. Tavish still played her lute, and most of those present sat quietly, enthralled by a ballad of young lovers.
Carefully the king returned to the head table.
The others turned as he sat. Pawldo quickly avoided his gaze, and he saw the look of disappointment, even anger, on Daryth's face. More annoying to him was the leer of amusement with which Pontswain regarded him. Grunnarch the Red smiled pleasantly, apparently unaware of anything untoward.
The king looked boldly at his companions, but he felt the red blush of his shame rise into his face. Never mind. His friends would forgive him when he explained his plan of action. And Tristan cared very little what Pontswain thought.
Tavish returned to the table as Tristan leaned forward to speak to his friends gathered at the table. The Ffolk at the other tables paid no attention as they joined again in their own conversations. He saw no sign of the redheaded woman, and for this he felt great relief.
"In the morning, Robyn and I embark for Myrloch Vale. There we will confront this foul cleric and destroy him – and when we return, the celebration can truly begin!"
Daryth's eyebrows rose in surprise, but his face remained masked by a scowl. Pawldo nodded, and Tavish, who arrived at the table as he made his announcement, beamed. "This time I'll be there with you!" declared the bard. "There'll be a song in this that'll last for the ages, to be sure!" "I, too, shall place my axe at your side!" declared Grunnarch solemnly, surprising the young king.
"Thank you, Grunnarch. But I cannot – will not – ask you to accompany us on this mission. We will fight a battle for Corwell's heart, but it is a battle that must be waged by the Ffolk." The Red King scowled, and Tristan wondered if he had offended his guest.
"There is a greater task you can perform, Grunnarch, if I can ask it of you," he hastened to continue. "Can you go to your people and tell them of our peace? Tell them that the time of war between Ffolk and northman is over?"
"That is no task for a fighting king!"
"Perhaps not. But I ask you, can you do it? The enemies of our islands lie not just in the heartland of Gwynneth. The sahuagin who attacked our ships are ample proof of that. Carry the word of our alliance to your people, and we can unite in a common strength that will defeat all of our foes!"
Grunnarch looked skeptical but held his peace.
"I will need to leave the castle's administration in your hands a little longer," Tristan went on, turning to Randolph.
"I will come with you," announced Daryth, though the black look remained on his face.
"Someone'll have to keep you two alive," grumbled Pawldo. "As usual, it might