The Hollow Hills - Mary Stewart [178]
"You knew Morgause had left the court?"
"I heard so, yes. Nobody knows why."
"Her sister Morgian is waiting in York for the wedding," I said, "and anxious for her company."
"Oh, yes, we heard that." It was to be inferred from the woodenness of his expression that nobody had believed it.
"Did she come to see the King?" I asked.
"Three times." Ulfin smiled. It was apparent that Morgause was no favourite of his. "And each time she was turned away because the prince was still with him."
A favoured daughter for twenty years, and forgotten in as many hours for a true-born son. "You were a bastard, too" she had reminded me. Years ago, I remembered, I had wondered what would become of her. She had had position and authority of a sort here with Uther, and might well have been fond of him. She had (the King had hinted yesterday) refused marriage to stay near him. Perhaps I had been too harsh with her, driven by the horror of foreknowledge and my own single-minded love for the boy. I hesitated, then asked him: "Did she seem much distressed?"
"Distressed?" said Ulfin crisply. "No, she looked angry. She's bad to cross, is that lady. Always been so, from a child. One of her maids was crying, too; I think she'd been whipped." He nodded towards one of the pages, a fair boy, very young, kicking his heels at a window. "He was the one sent to turn her away the last time, and she laid his cheek open with her nails."
"Then tell him to take care it does not fester," I said, and such was my tone that Ulfin looked sharply at me, cocking a brow. I nodded. "Yes, it was I who sent her away. Nor did she go willingly. You'll know why, one day. Meanwhile, I take it that you look in now and again upon the King? The interview isn't tiring him overmuch?"
"On the contrary, he's better than I've seen him for some time. You'd think the boy was a well to drink at; the King never takes his eyes from him, and gains strength by the hour. They'll take their midday meal together."
"Ah. Then it will be tasted? That's what I came to ask."
"Of course. You can be easy, my lord. The prince will be safe."
"The King must take some rest before the feast."
He nodded. "I've persuaded him to sleep this afternoon after he has eaten."
"Then will you also -- which will be more difficult -- persuade the prince that he should do the same? Or, if not rest, then at least go straight to his rooms, and stay in them till the hour of feasting?"
Ulfin looked dubious. "Will he consent to that?"
"If you tell him that the order -- but you'd better call it a request -- came from me."
"I'll do that, my lord."
"I shall be in the hospital. You'll send for me, of course, if the King needs me. But in any case you must send to tell me the moment the prince leaves him."
It was about the middle of the afternoon when the fair-haired page brought the message. The King was resting, he told me, and the prince had gone to his rooms. When Ulfin had given the prince my message the latter had scowled, impatient, and had said sharply (this part of the message came demurely, verbatim) that he was damned if he'd skulk indoors for the rest of the day. But when Ulfin had said the message came from Prince Merlin the prince had stopped short, shrugged, and then gone to his rooms without further word.
"Then I shall go, too," I said. "But first, child, let me see that scratched cheek." When I had put salve on it, and sent him scampering back to Ulfin, I made my way through corridors more thronged than ever to my rooms.
Arthur was by the window. He turned when he heard me.
"Bedwyr is here, did you know? I saw him, but could not get near. I sent a message that we'd ride out this afternoon. Now you say I may