Gwenhwyfar_ The White Spirit - Mercedes Lackey [123]
It was a situation fraught with ugliness and difficulty, and one she was deeply grateful that she was not involved in.
There was one thing she might do, though; it would remind Arthur that the followers of the Old Ways had not wavered in their loyalty, and it would reflect well on her father.
She had come here with a gift of horses for himself and his Companions, but in anticipation of fighting, all of King Lleudd’s men had come with extra mounts. She herself had brought six—Rhys and Pryderi of course, but also four more, just in case something happened to her two main mounts. Now she pulled those four extras from the picket line, found a squire, and sent them off to the High King with the simple message that the horses were from King Lleudd Ogrfan Gawr.
The camp was uneasy that night and unsettled. This did not taste like victory, even though Arthur had won.
Talk around the fires was subdued, and no one had much appetite. Gwen was thinking very strongly of making use of that mead Cataruna had sent along to help her to sleep early, when she looked up to see one of Gildas’ monks peering around the circle of warriors at her fire. He finally whispered to the one nearest him, and to Gwen’s further surprise, the man stood up and conducted the monk courteously to her.
“If you would be so kind,” the monk said, diffidently, once he had given her the bow of respect, “Abbot Gildas would like to speak with you.”
She stood up immediately. “I would be honored,” she said honestly. Whatever the abbot wanted her for, he was clearly an important man. He was also a beloved man; however disagreeable he had seemed to her, he had to have earned that regard.
So, she would give him the courtesy that she hoped he would show her, and see what happened.
The monk conducted her quickly to the Abbey, and it was quite clear that the subdued mood in her camp was shared across the entire encampment.
Gildas was waiting for her at another fire, and he rose to greet her without the disagreeable expression he had worn before. She gave him the same bow of respect that she would have given the Merlin.
“Lady . . . I wish to thank you,” Gildas said awkwardly. “You were very kind to reassure my people.”
“Abbot Gildas, your people were extremely worried for you, and they deserved to have someone treat them with courtesy,” she replied. “The High King’s Companions would have done so if they themselves knew what I did about the Folk of Annwn. Since they did not, and what I knew could ease the hearts of your people and allow them to devote their attention to—to—”
“To prayer and their devotions,” Gildas supplied, with a little smile. “Yes. And again, I thank you. I also wish to apologize to you. Without knowing anything of you, I harbored ill thoughts of you. You, in turn, rather than doing the same to me, have given me a lesson in what should have been Christian charity. For this lesson, too, I thank you. I want you to know that despite our differences in belief, you may count me as a friend.”
She was for a moment taken aback, but she quickly recovered. “I am honored, and I would be more honored if you will accept the same from me.”
“I know that you are all curious as to what is to happen to the queen.” He sighed. “I should prefer, as you seem to not be prone to exaggeration, if you were to make it known that the High King and the queen will remain here for a time while I strive to make peace between them.”
She winced. “I do not envy you that task. This was . . . a sad and bitter thing.”
“I wish that I had hope of success.” A shadow passed over Gildas’ face. “But that will be as God wills it. I shall do my best. Arthur is a great man. I would that he were more a man of peace and less of war . . . for one of my brothers rebelled against him, you know, and