Mists of Avalon - Marion Zimmer Bradley [251]
Arthur laid his hand on the hilt of Excalibur, in its scabbard of crimson velvet and gold. The sight of his hand laid on the magical symbols of that scabbard, and the serpents twined round his wrist, made Gwenhwyfar turn her eyes away. She said, “How will God give us the victory, if we will not put away from us all the symbols of sorcery and fight beneath his cross?”
“Why, there’s something to what the Queen says,” Uriens said, conciliating, “but I bear my eagles in the name of my fathers and of Rome.”
Leodegranz said, “I offer to you the banner of the cross, my lord Arthur, if you will. You bear it rightly for your queen’s sake.”
Arthur shook his head. Only the high flush in his cheekbones told Gwenhwyfar that he was angry. “I swore to fight beneath the royal banner of the Pendragon, and so shall I do or die. I am no tyrant. Whoever wishes to do so may bear the cross of Christ on his shield, but the Pendragon banner stands in token that all the folk of Britain—Christian, Druid, Old People too—shall fight together. Even as the dragon is over all the beasts, so the Pendragon is over all the people! All, I say!”
“And the eagles of Uriens and the Great Raven of Lothian shall fight beside the dragon,” said Lot, rising. “Is Gawaine not here, Arthur? I would have a word with my son, and I thought he was ever at your side!”
“I miss him as much as you, Uncle,” said Arthur. “I know not where to turn without Gawaine at my back, but I had to send him on a message to Tintagel, for none can ride so swiftly.”
“Oh, you have plenty to guard you,” said Lot sourly. “I see Lancelet never more than a step or three from your side, ready to fill the empty place.”
Lancelet flushed, but he said smoothly, “It is always so, kinsman, all of Arthur’s Companions strive with one another for the honor of being the closest to the King, and when Gawaine is here, even Cai who is Arthur’s foster-brother and I who am Queen’s champion must take a place further off.”
Arthur turned back to Gwenhwyfar and said, “Now indeed, my queen, you must go to rest. This council may go on far into the night, and you must be ready to ride at daybreak.”
Gwenhwyfar clenched her hands. This one time, this one time let me have courage to speak. . . . She said clearly, “No. No, my lord, I do not ride at daybreak, not to Camelot or to anywhere else on the face of this earth.”
Arthur’s cheeks flushed again with that high color which told her he was angry. “Why, how’s this, madam? You cannot delay when there is war in the land. I would willingly give you a day or two of rest before you ride, but we must make haste to get you all to safety before the Saxons come. I tell you, Gwenhwyfar, when the morning comes, your horse and gear will be ready. If you cannot ride you may travel in a litter or be carried in a chair, but ride you shall.”
“I shall not!” she said fiercely. “And you cannot force me, not unless you set me on my horse and tie me there!”
“God forbid I should have to do so,” Arthur said. “But what is this, lady?” He was troubled, yet trying to keep his voice light and humorous. “Why, all those legions of men out there obey my word, am I to have mutiny at my own hearth fire and from my own wife?”
“Your men may all obey your word,” she said desperately. “They have not my reason for staying here! I will stay with no more than one waiting-woman and a midwife, my lord, but I will ride nowhere—not so far as to the banks of the river—before our son is born!”
There, I have said it . . . here before all these men. . . .
And Arthur, hearing, understood, and instead of looking overjoyed, seemed only dismayed. He shook his head, then said, “Gwenhwyfar—” and stopped.
Lot chuckled and said, “Are you breeding, madam? Why, congratulations! But that need not stop you from travelling. Morgause was every day in the saddle, till she was too big for her horse to carry her, while no one would know as yet that you were with child. Our midwives say that fresh air and exercise are healthy for a breeding woman, and when my own