Gwenhwyfar_ The White Spirit - Mercedes Lackey [117]
But then—stories. They were only that. Men were uneasy enough around a woman with power of any sort. It would not be surprising that they made up tales about one who was powerful and refused to tie herself to any man to boot.
For just a moment, something too faint to be called a memory drifted past in her thoughts. An image, a glimpse, of Morgana and Little Gwen, side by side—but it was gone before she could grasp it.
She decided that she had better say something; she had been silent a little too long. “So long as I can assure Father she is content, that is all that matters,” Gwen replied untruthfully. The reality was, somewhere down inside, she was sickened. Gwenhwyfach by herself was bad enough. Gwenhwyfach tutored by Anna Morgause was worse. And Gwenhwyfach working hand in hand with Morgana? Gwen pitied anyone foolish enough to cross them.
“Yes, well, you can tell King Lleudd anything you like,” Medraut replied, stopping suddenly. That was when Gwen realized that they were at the edge of her encampment. “Just as long as you keep the oaths you swore. I have many plans in motion, and I would be very vexed if they were to be disrupted.” His eyes glittered in the darkness. “Morgana and my wife would be even more disappointed than I.”
That was easy to read, too. Keep my secrets, or there will be a price to pay. Morgana had always struck Gwen as the sort of person who liked being the hidden power and preferred to do nothing overtly.
Morgana was also, by all measures, someone who never staked all of her ambitions on one plan, or one candidate. If Medraut lost his bid for Arthur’s seat, she would have a dozen more directions she could go. But Gwenhwyfach? Without a doubt, she was already, in her mind, measuring her brow for the High Queen’s crown. Cataruna could probably handle Morgana and her magic if Gwen were to tell what she knew. But Gwenhwyfach, or the two of them together? Oh, no. Gwen was not minded to cross her little sister.
“And I have no plans except to serve my father and his heirs,” she replied honestly. “I am a plain warrior, cousin. I have no head for grand schemes.”
“Sometimes it is a good thing to have no ambition.” The flash of teeth, the glitter of eyes in the dark, put her in mind of something feral. “And on that, I bid you good night. It has been a most fascinating evening, with great potential for amusement to come. We will see what the morning brings.”
She was only too happy to leave him there and retreat to the safety of those she trusted.
She gave her own chiefs a brief explanation of what had happened, omitting only Gwalchmai’s report of the behavior of the queen, the strange way in which Gwyn ap Nudd and Gildas had vanished—and that the King of Yniswitrin had called her “fair cousin.” If the word of the queen’s treachery was to be spread about the camps, she did not want it to come from her people. And as for Gwyn ap Nudd, well, she intended to publicly distance herself from the Folk of Annwn and from magic as much as possible. Especially with Medraut snooping about. The less he thought about her, the better.
They accepted the news with astonishment. Then she left them to mull it over themselves. It was always better to let the men talk themselves out without her there to overhear them. It let them know that she trusted them; it also allowed them to air whatever foolishness came into their heads without the risk of looking foolish in front of her.
As mother once said; men are worse gossips than women ever were.
In the morning, nothing much had changed, except for the rumors flying about the camp. As she had expected, a garbled version of Gwalchmai’s narrative was all over the encampment, and the stories of how Gwyn ap Nudd