Gwenhwyfar_ The White Spirit - Mercedes Lackey [109]
Finally the king himself came down to the yard, and sat on a stump, and waited. She could not remember him ever coming here before. But she knew herself well enough not to trust herself to speak right now, so she pretended that she had not noticed him there.
The ax handle was a comfort in her hand, and the steady chunk as it cleft each log was just as much of a comfort. This, at least, she could control. She had chosen to do this. No one had said “you must,” or “you must not.” No one had come to say “So-and-so would do this better, go tend to your horses.” Yet it took her quite some time before she was able to get anything like words past the tightness in her chest and throat.
“It’s not fair,” she managed at last, the final word punctuated by the blow of the ax. She tried not to wail. She tried not to sound as if she was accusing Lleudd, whom she did not in the least blame.
“Indeed, it is not,” King Lleudd agreed. “Very unfair. You have spent long days training your scouts. You work as an effective group, and without you, they will be less effective. They trust you; they will not trust another leader so much. You have proven yourself in battle. You should have been the one to lead and command them.”
The ax thudded into another log. The two halves fell to either side of the chopping block. “Whoever this ‘Kai’ is, he cannot possibly know what they can do! I am not even sure he knows how to properly use scouts, much less my men!”
“He is the High King’s foster brother, and no, he cannot know what they can do, nor do I think from what I have heard of him that he is a particularly good war chief.” Lleudd sighed. “He is usually in charge of the squires and the court. He is not terrible . . . but he is not particularly good, either. At least they will not be misused. The High King fights with Roman tactics, and your men do not charge into battle like Saxons with no strategy. They will be just one more scouting troop among another dozen.”
“But they will get no chance to use all the things we have worked out together,” she said angrily. “They will get no chance to harry the Saxons as we did this winter.”
“No, because Kai will think such things unnecessary. But at least, because you trained them, they will know to be clever. They will know how to fight with the Roman style that the High King uses.” Lleudd sighed again, heavily. “I am sorry, my daughter. I am sorry that their command has been taken from you. But the High King prefers to use his own commanders.”
“And the High King does not trust a female warrior,” she said, bitterly. “He does not think such a one as I can command anything. Younger men than me have been put in command. Younger men than me are his warleaders.” Thunk. The ax split another log. “He thinks that I am only a chief because I am your daughter, and he does not trust my ability.”
“Probably not,” King Lleudd agreed.
“And Lancelin did not see fit to argue for me.” Thunk. That was another sore point. He spoke with her as if they were equals. He seemed to consider her a friend. He knew she was intelligent. And he had not spoken up for her.
“Possibly not. I cannot say. Possibly he did. Possibly he did not try because he did not want to remind the queen of his presence.” Lleudd shifted his weight on the stump. “I do not know, because I was not there. It is hard for a young man when he is caught between a man and his wife.”
She finally stopped and turned to face her father.
“Which makes him a coward?” she asked, angrily. “I had not thought him a coward.”
“It makes him . . .” The King sighed. “It makes him a man torn. On the one hand, he knows what you can do, even if he did not consider himself your friend. Which, I believe, he does. He knows you are not only a good leader, he knows that you know your men as no one else, and