Gwenhwyfar_ The White Spirit - Mercedes Lackey [55]
“Aye, my lord,” Gwen replied, feeling disappointed that Little Gwen was not going to be taken off far, far away—at least not for some time. Little Gwen looked even more disappointed, but she allowed herself to be led off, clutching her little box.
“What is that?” Gwen asked, as soon as they had left the tent.
“Something secret,” her sister said, a sly look coming over her.
“I’m not to tell.”
Gwen shrugged. “Then I won’t ask any more.” Her sister looked disappointed at that response; half of the value she placed in a secret was that she could torment her older siblings with it.
But she didn’t have any time to come up with a new tactic, for Bronwyn was waiting for them at the edge of the encampment and looked with curiosity at the box.
“Tis a secret thing between her and the Merlin,” Gwen said shortly. “So let her do what he wishes her to do with it.”
Bronwyn nodded and took Little Gwen in charge, while Gwen went off to find her father and fulfill the second half of her duty.
Her father seemed a little disappointed as well but said only, “At least we know she has a Blessing. But it must not be something the High King needs. Ah, well.” He waved Gwen off. “We’ll let her age, like mead. Mayhap she’ll turn out as sweet with the help of whatever it is the Merlin gave her.”
Privately Gwen rather doubted any such miracle could occur, but this was a case when the squire served best by keeping her lips sealed. “Aye, my lord King,” she said carefully, bowed, and went back to her duty.
Chapter Nine
The guests were all gone, the Merlin with them, without his making a display of any kind of magic—much to the bitter disappointment of most of the young squires. This time Gwen had not had the slightest wish to spy on the Midsummer Rites. She spent that evening as usual in attendance on the Merlin, and when he retired to join the Rites, she sat quietly with the other squires, on her best behavior. They were all rewarded by a share of mead each, which warmed her belly and made her sleepy. When the Merlin and the women returned, she was surprised, for she had not thought that much time had passed. She was glad when he dismissed her, and she was happy enough to go to bed, even while the young women and men were still leaping the fire, dancing, or making sheep’s eyes at each other. Of course, not all of them were confining themselves to that, for it was Midsummer after all, but they were out in the hayfields or the meadows or little bowers under the bushes, and not tumbling and panting in the Great Hall, so she didn’t even think of them, but of the soft mattress and how good it would be to get there.
The truth of the matter was, that between serving the Merlin and seeing that her horses were tended perfectly, her gear in good order, and the gear of the older warriors attended to, she fell into the bed and slept like a stone every night, and she simply didn’t have the will to sneak out for a clandestine look. Besides, her curiosity the last time had resulted in a vision that, while exciting, was also somewhat frightening. She’d spied upon the gods that night, and she rather hoped that she was below their attention. At least, until she was old enough to start earning some glory in battle.
Little Gwen had finally found something to occupy her besides tormenting her sisters, and for that, Gwen was so profoundly grateful to the Merlin that she would have run twice the number of errands he asked of her. Whatever it was that he had told the child, and given her, kept her captive and quiet in her own thoughts. And meanwhile, now that he was sure of her, the Merlin sent his assigned squire out into the fields and woods to acquire any number of herbs and bits. Mushrooms both poisonous and tasty, baskets of bark, roots, leaves, owl pellets, bones and teeth . . . there seemed no end to