Mists of Avalon - Marion Zimmer Bradley [167]
“My lord! I ask for leave to train horses and men, so that you may lead them into battle when the Saxons come again, to defeat them as he did at Celidon Wood last summer. We have had victories, but one day there will be a mighty battle which will decide for all time whether Saxon or Roman will rule this land. We are training all the horses we can get, but yours are better than those we can buy or breed.”
“I have not sworn allegiance to Arthur,” her father said. “Uther was another matter; he was a tried soldier and Ambrosius’ man. Arthur is little more than a boy—”
“You still believe that, after the battles he has won?” Lancelet asked. “He has held his throne now for more than a year, he is your High King, sir. Whether you have sworn or not, every battle he fights against the Saxons protects you, too. Horses and men—that is little enough to ask.”
Leodegranz nodded. “This is no place to discuss the strategy of a kingdom, sir Lancelet. I have seen what you can do with the horse. He is yours, my guest.”
Lancelet bowed low and thanked King Leodegranz formally, but Gwenhwyfar saw his eyes shine like those of a delighted boy. Gwenhwyfar wondered how old he was.
“Come within my hall,” her father said, “we will drink together, and I will make you an offer.”
Gwenhwyfar slid down from the wall and ran through the garden to the kitchens, where her father’s wife was supervising the baking women. “Madam, my father will be coming in with the High King’s emissary, Lancelet; they will want food and drink.”
Alienor gave her a startled glance. “Thank you, Gwenhwyfar. Go and make yourself tidy and you may serve the wine. I am far too busy.”
Gwenhwyfar ran to her room, pulled her best gown on over the simple kirtle she wore, and hung a string of coral beads about her neck. She unbraided her fair hair and let it fall, rippled from the tight braiding. Then she put on the little gold maiden’s circlet she wore, and went down, composing her steps and moving lightly; she knew the blue gown became her as no other color, no matter how costly, could do.
She fetched a bronze basin, filled it with warmed water from the kettle hanging near the fire, and strewed rose leaves in it; she came into the hall as her father and Lancelet were entering. She set down her basin, took their cloaks and hung them on the peg, then came and offered them the warmed, scented water to wash their hands. Lancelet smiled, and she knew he had recognized her.
“Did we not meet on the Isle of the Priests, lady?”
“You have met my daughter, sir?”
Lancelet nodded, and Gwenhwyfar said, in her shyest little voice—she had found, long ago, that it displeased her father if she spoke out boldly—"Father, he showed me the way to my convent door when I was lost.”
Leodegranz smiled at her indulgently. “My little featherhead, if she goes three steps from her own doorway, she is lost. Well, sir Lancelet, what do you think of my horses?”
“I have told you—they are better than any we can buy or breed,” he said. “We have some from the Moorish realms down in Spain, and we have bred them with the highland ponies, so we have horses that are sturdy and can endure our climate, but are swift and brave. But we need more. We can breed only so many. You have more than enough, and I can show you how to train them so you can lead them into battle—”
“No,” the king interrupted, “I am an old man. I have no desire to learn new battle methods. I have been four times married, but all my former wives bore only sickly girls who die before they are weaned, sometimes before they are baptized. I have daughters; when the eldest marries, her husband will lead my men into battle, and can train them as he will. Tell your High King to come here, and we will discuss the matter.”
Lancelet said, a little stiffly, “I am my lord Arthur’s cousin and his captain, sire, but even I do not tell him to come and go.”
“Beseech him, then, to come to an old man who does not want to ride out from his own fireside,” the king said, a little wryly. “If he will not come for me, perhaps he will come to know how I will dispose of