Gwenhwyfar_ The White Spirit - Mercedes Lackey [97]
“He probably will not fight the Saxons,” Lancelin said, after staring at the maps a while longer. “He will probably bribe them to let him pass. It is what I would do.”
Gwen smirked. She couldn’t help herself. “Perhaps we can find a way to trigger that famous temper,” she suggested. “Even if the Saxons accepted reparation rather than killing him themselves, they might ruin him with weregild.”
The idea of March finding himself forced to pay a heavy weregild in addition to a bribe made the other war chiefs chuckle a little. But Gwen had more to say at this point.
“I have a thought about keeping him from trying to cross our lands,” she continued. “Look here—” she pointed at the map. “This is where he will have to make the decision whether to bring his army through our land or to treat with the Saxons. We need to make the choice easier for him, but by not opposing him at all.”
Lancelin looked at her quizzically. “Why would you say that?” he asked.
She smirked. “Because March is—” She almost said “a man” but quickly modified it to “—like to a bull. Wave a red rag at it in the form of armed opposition, and he will rush at it. We have a choice ourselves; we can send him across Saxon lands, save our men and join our force with the High King’s, and the two will crush him. Or we can take the chance that he will defeat us, pillage our lands, then attack Arthur. So we do not present him with visible opposition but rather make it unprofitable for him to try to cross our land.”
“Unprofitable?” Lleudd looked at his daughter in puzzlement.
“See here?” She pointed at an area of flat land. “My dear brother-by-marriage is a bard and a Priest, and Cataruna is a trained Lady. I think that between them they can persuade the waters to rise here and make that a marsh for as long as we need it to be so. Faced with a swamp, I think March will take the Saxon road.”
They all stared at the map. “It seems the coward’s way . . .” Peder said, doubtfully.
“Not if, when we are sure of him, our army joins that of Arthur,” her father replied, decisively. “It is merely postponing the fight and choosing our ground. Only a fool fights a battle going up a hill.”
Gwen nodded, grateful that he had thrown his support behind her.
Lancelin studied the map, rubbing his chin, but he said nothing, neither for nor against the plan. That disappointed her a little, but in the end it was King Lleudd’s decision and no one else’s.
Which meant, since this was her idea, she needed to have speech with Cataruna.
Ifan and Cataruna had their own room, as did Gynath and Caradoc; two new rooms had been made by the simple expedient of partitioning off two spaces side by side at the end of the Great Hall where the entrance to the king’s solar and the room they had all shared as girls was. Now you passed through Gynath’s room to get to the door that led to what had been the girls’ room, which now belonged to Cataruna. Gwen had the smaller space, not much bigger than the bed, but she didn’t need much space. Cataruna often sought privacy in that sanctuary while Bronwyn watched her children. But it was in the Great Hall that Gwen found her sister and brother-by-marriage .
Cataruna was sewing, and when Gwen explained what she had in mind, her sister pinched the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger and made a face. “I mislike meddling with the land—”
“I mislike having King March’s men come across it, love,” said Ifan, as he put aside the tuning pegs he was carving. “I mislike seeing herds slaughtered and farms laid waste. March is unpredictable and not entirely sane. There is no telling what the King of Kerrow is like to do.”
Cataruna’s brows furrowed for a moment, then her face cleared. “As Lady of the Fields, if I hear the Lord of the Forest urging protection for our people, I think it would be wise of