Mists of Avalon - Marion Zimmer Bradley [410]
Castor, pale with fury, said, “My emperor foresaw some such impudent answer as this, and this is what he bade me say: that Less Britain is already in his hands, and he has imprisoned King Ban’s son Bors, in his own castle. And when the Emperor Lucius has laid all of Less Britain waste, then he will come to Britain, as did the Emperor Claudius of old, and conquer that country again, in despite of all your painted savage chiefs smeared with woad!”
“Tell your emperor,” said Arthur, “that my offer of three dozen British arrowheads holds good, only now will I raise my offer to three hundred, and he gets no tribute from me but one of them through his heart. Tell him, too, that if he harms a single hair on the head of my Companion sir Bors, I shall give him to Lancelet and Lionel, who are Bors’s brothers, to skin him alive and hang his flayed corpse from the castle walls. Now go back to your emperor and give him that message. No, Cai, don’t let anyone lay a hand on him—a messenger is sacred to his Gods.”
There was an appalled silence as the legionaries strode out of the hall, turning crisply on their heels and letting their mailed boots stamp and ring on the stones. When they had gone a clamor arose, but Arthur raised his hand and quiet fell again.
“There will be no mock battles on the morrow, for we will have real ones soon,” he said, “and for prizes I can offer the plunder of this self-styled emperor. Companions, I would have you ready to ride at daybreak for the coast. Cai, you can handle the provisioning. Lancelet"—a faint smile as he looked at his friend—"I would leave you here to guard the Queen, but since your brother is prisoned, I know you will wish to ride with us. I shall ask the priest to say holy service for those of you who wish to be shriven of any sins before you ride into battle, tomorrow at dawn. Sir Uwaine"—his eyes sought out his newest Companion where he sat among the younger knights—"now I can offer you glory in battle instead of war games. I beg you, as my sister’s son, to ride at my side and cover my back against treachery.”
“I am honored, m-my king,” Uwaine stammered, his face glowing, and in that moment Morgaine saw something of how Arthur had inspired such great devotion.
“Uriens, my good brother-in-law,” said Arthur, “I leave the Queen in your care—remain at Camelot and guard her till I return.” He bent to kiss Gwenhwyfar’s hand. “My lady, I beg you to excuse us from further feasting—there is war upon us again.”
Gwenhwyfar was white as her shift. “And you know it is welcome to you, my lord. God keep you, dear husband.” And she leaned forward to kiss him. He rose and went down from the dais, beckoning.
“Gawaine, Lionel, Gareth—all of you—Companions, attend me!”
Lancelet delayed for a moment before following him. “Bid me also God’s blessing as I ride, my queen.”
“Oh, God—Lancelet—” Gwenhwyfar said, and, regardless of the eyes on her, she flung herself into his arms. He held her, gently, speaking so softly that Morgaine could not hear, but Morgaine saw that she was weeping. But when she raised her head her face was dry and tearless. “God speed you, my dearest love.”
“And God keep you, love of my heart,” Lancelet said very softly. “Whether I return or no, may he bless you.” He turned to Morgaine. “Now indeed do I rejoice that you are to pay a visit to Elaine. You must bear my greetings to my dear wife, and tell her I have gone with Arthur to the rescue of my kinsman Bors from this knave who calls himself the Emperor Lucius. Tell her I pray God to keep her and care for her, and send my love to our children.”
He stood for a moment silent, and for a moment Morgaine thought he would kiss her too; instead, smiling, he laid his hand against her cheek. “God bless you too, Morgaine—whether or