Gwenhwyfar_ The White Spirit - Mercedes Lackey [114]
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 title 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 bastard’s walls,” he rumbled. His shaggy 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 noble 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