The Hollow Hills - Mary Stewart [21]
"Why not? You know everything here will be perfectly safe; in any case, you've left it before. And you can't travel alone. How would you go on?"
"My dear Ralf. I've done it before."
"Maybe you have, but you can't deny I've served you well since I've been here, so why not take me? You can't just go to Tintagel -- back to where things are happening -- and leave me here! I warn you" -- he took a breath, eyes blazing, all his careful courtesy collapsing in ruins -- "I warn you, my lord, if you go without me, I shan't be here when you come back!"
I waited till his gaze fell, then said mildly: "Have some sense, boy. Surely you see why I can't take you? The situation hasn't changed so much since you had to leave Cornwall. You know what would happen if any of Cador's men recognized you, and everyone knows you round about Tintagel. You'd be seen, and the word would go round."
"I know that. Do you still think I'm afraid of Cador? Or of the King?"
"No. But it's foolish to run into danger when one doesn't need to. And the messenger certainly seemed to think there was still danger."
"Then what about you? Won't you be in danger, too?"
"Possibly. I shall have to go disguised, as it is. Why do you think I've been letting my beard grow all this while?"
"I didn't know. I never thought about it. Do you mean you've been expecting the Queen to send for you?"
"I didn't expect this summons, I admit," I said. "But I know that, come Christmas, when the child is born, I must be there."
He stared. "Why?"
I regarded him for a moment. He was standing near the mouth of the cave, against the sunset, just as he had come in from his trip across the hill to the shepherd's hut. He was still clutching the osier basket which had held the salves. It held a small bundle now, wrapped in a clean linen cloth. The shepherd's wife, who lived across in the next valley, sent bread up weekly to her man; some of this Abba regularly sent on to me. I could see the boy's fists clenched bone-white on the handle of the basket. He was tense, as angry and fretting as a fighting dog held back in the slips. There was something more here, I was sure, than homesickness, or disappointment at missing an adventure.
"Put that basket down, for goodness' sake," I said, "and come in. That's better. Now, sit down. It's time that you and I talked. When I accepted your service, I did not do so because I wanted someone to scour the cooking pots and carry gifts from Abba's wife on baking day. Even if I am content with my life here on Bryn Myrddin, I'm not such a fool as to think it contents you -- or would do so for long. We are waiting, Ralf, no more. We have fled from danger, both of us, and healed our hurts, and now there is nothing to do but wait."
"For the Queen's childbed? Why?"
"Because as soon as he is born, the Queen's son will be given to me to care for."
He was silent for a full minute before he said, sounding puzzled: "Does my grandmother know this?"
"I think she suspects that the child's future lies with me. When I last spoke with the King, on that night at Tintagel, he told me he would not acknowledge the child who would be born. I think this is why the Queen has sent for me."
"But...not to acknowledge his eldest son? You mean he will send him away? Will the Queen agree? A baby -- surely they would never send it to you? How could you keep it? And how can you even know it will be a boy?"
"Because I had a vision, Ralf, that night in Tintagel. After you had let us in through the postern gate, while the King was with Ygraine, and Ulfin kept guard outside the chamber, you diced with the porter in the lodge by the postern. Do you remember?"
"How could I ever forget? I thought that night would never end."
I did not tell him that it had not ended yet. I smiled. "I think I felt the same, while I waited alone in the guardroom. It was then that I saw -- was shown -- for certain why God had required me to do as I had done, shown for sure that my prophecies had been true. I heard a