Gwenhwyfar_ The White Spirit - Mercedes Lackey [122]
Finally, just before sunset, the word came at last.
And shortly after the word, the lady who was the cause of it all.
A breeze—no doubt engineered by Gwyn ap Nudd—blew the mists off the lake as she came, rowed over in another boat. The setting sun touched her golden hair and made of it a crown and gilded her linen gown. She sat upright and proud in the stern of the boat, with no sign that she felt any guilt.
Gwen was not sure what her feelings were. Mostly relief that all of this was over. Some contempt, perhaps. And puzzlement, that the woman would be so foolish as to desert a man who engendered such passionate loyalty. It should have been obvious that very few of his allies would desert him and that the ruse that she had been carried off against her will could not have held up for very long.
Lust? Love? Ambition?
Not that it mattered in the long run.
When she alighted, she was surrounded immediately; the bodies of Companions and monks hid her from view, so it was impossible to tell if she was led off, taken off as a prisoner, or went under her own power and will. But off she went, heading for the High King’s tent, where Arthur and Gildas awaited. Melwas was gone. The queen would face her judgment alone.
Gwen shook her head and decided that today might be a good day to go hunting.
She returned, empty-handed, which didn’t really surprise her; with so many men hunting the same fields, the game was probably hunted out by now. And perhaps because of that very thing, she returned to find many of the allies already packing up to leave.
“Have we been dismissed?” she asked Afon ap Macsen, her second in command.
“Not yet. But there is no real reason to hold us here,” he pointed out, and looked uncomfortable. “A good fight, that’s one thing. But this—it isn’t the sort of thing a man likes to have witnesses to.”
Well, she could see that. The High King had been made a cuckold of in front of his allies, and his queen hadn’t looked in the least repentant. She wondered what Arthur would do.
It wouldn’t have been a question if he had been a follower of the Old Ways, as her father was. King Lleudd would have had an easy choice, since a woman, particularly a queen and a Lady, did have one irrefutable excuse for something like this.
It was done for the Land.
Arthur was still childless and looked to remain so. And while he was still in fighting trim, his queen, if she had been a Lady, would have been bound to show herself fertile. And . . . well . . . this was his way to prove he was still worthy to represent the Land. If the Old Stag could not drive off or slay the Young Stag, then it was more than time for the Young to supplant the Old.
Even time for the Old Stag to shed his blood to renew the Land. Now, that had not yet happened with her father, in no small part because neither Ifan nor Caradoc were minded to make the challenge to King Lleudd. Besides, Cataruna was firmly Pywll’s Lady, and the vigorous and very, very virile Ifan was Lord to her Lady. There was no need for King Lleudd to be the Land King, for Cataruna had a consort, and all was well.
But Arthur—
Well, the Old Stag had conquered the Young, so no one would be pressing for him to be supplanted yet. And it was through no fault of his own that he had no heirs but Medraut.
Gwen sighed. “Tell the men to be ready to move out. You are right. I have no wish for the High King to have us present for this.”
The queen was a follower of the Christ, and there were no excuses for her behavior in their creed. She would have no allies there. Not even Gildas would support her now.
Gwen tried to think of what options were open to Arthur.