Gwenhwyfar_ The White Spirit - Mercedes Lackey [56]
But at last, everyone was gone, and Gwen was back to duties that seemed light in comparison with the double burden she had carried while the guests were about. Now she knew why the squires had always looked so harried and haggard during festivals and had never had time for games or gamboling. In a time of feasting and leisure, they got none of the latter and only the leftover ends of the former.
It was about a week after the last guest had left that a traveling bard arrived, having spent Midsummer at the festival King Lot of Orkney held. Like all bards, he was as full of news as he was of music, and the women swarmed him to hear his largest burden, that Anna Morgause had been brought to bed of yet another son, her fifth. Four more she had, two older than Arthur—Gwalchmai, Gwalchafed, Gwynfor, and Agrwn. Gwalchmai and Gwalchafed were said to be as alike as she and Little Gwen, and the younger served the elder as a squire. She only hoped Gwalchmai’s younger brother had a better temper than her younger sister.
“Thin, small, and sickly looking this one is,” the bard said, with a little smirk that made Gwen frown. This man was angling for rewards from Queen Eleri, she thought. But she kept her head down over her task and held her peace. She was not allowed to completely escape the training of a maiden amid all the work of a squire; she still had to mend, if not make, her own clothing.
The king counted on his fingers, and chuckled. “So old Lot made sure of his wife by quickening her before he took her to Arthur’s wedding. Very wise of him.”
“Well, if a man knows he’s like to wear the horns,” said one of the men with a leer, “That’s the best way of knowing he won’t be raising another man’s brat.”
Ribald laughter spread around the benches. Anna Morgause had a reputation that was none too savory. It was said she had even bedded a Northman once, and it was whispered that she did not confine her couplings to humans. And here, far from the reach of her magic, it was safe enough to gossip about it.
“I’ve half suspected old Lot of being her pander, a’times,” said another with a snort. “And she, his.”
Queen Eleri was shaking her head as she cradled her belly with one hand. “Four living sons, and what does she need with a fifth?” she wondered aloud. “Well, what’s the poor wee thing’s name? No matter what kind of mother he has, I’ll ask the Lady’s blessing on him that he shall thrive. It is hardly his fault what he was born to. And he is the High King’s nephew, as she is the High King’s half-sister.”
“Medraut, gracious Queen,” the bard said with a bow. “She calls him Medraut. Her little sister Morgana is much enamored of him.”
“Little and sickly, and with the Orkney lot! He’ll need Morgana to look after him,” old Bronwyn predicted sadly. “If they don’t bully him a-purpose, they’ll still worry him like a lot of unwhipped pups with a rag they tug between each other.”
“Little and sickly, perhaps Anna Morgause will tend to him as she did not her healthy boys. We will hope.” Eleri raised her chin, signaling that the subject was concluded. “Did the Merlin come to visit them, as he did us?”
The bard shook his head and went on to other things. Gwen had felt an odd and uneasy interest in the subject of this unknown boy child, but maybe that was only because her mother had taken on an odd expression when she spoke of him. After more gossip concerning Lot, his wife, and their followers, Eleri asked the bard to give them some music, preferably a