Children of Time (The After Cilmeri Series Book Four) (16 page)

“That would be wonderful.” Lili’s voice held relief.

Hand in hand, we left the green. The headman of the town immediately understood that we planned to walk and hustled after us. “Talk to me,” I said. “I’d like to hear about your city.”

“Of course, my lord.” He came abreast and immediately launched into a discussion of his livelihood (he was a wool merchant) and the history of Windsor, a subject about which I was, in fact, interested. I smiled down at Lili, who held the doll tucked under her arm. She seemed at ease for the first time today, though maybe that was merely relief at not having to ride her horse again until tomorrow.

The rest of the delegation sorted themselves out behind us and were followed by my people, leading their horses (along with mine and Lili’s). As the townspeople realized what we were doing, they loosed a roar of excitement and people hurried to follow us or to run ahead so they would be in a good position when we passed them.

Lili and I strolled towards the castle. The towers showed above the town to the east so it would have been easy to navigate towards it even if the road didn’t go that way and the town headman wasn’t there to direct me.

We passed two dozen houses and shops before it came—that one word which I couldn’t escape and which sent a chill through me any time anyone said it—or in this case, shouted it: “
Arthur!”

Lili’s step faltered. “Did I hear what I think I heard—?”

I gripped her hand more tightly. “Yes, you did.”

Others among the crowd took up the cry and surged towards us. Evan appeared to Lili’s left, boxing her in, while Carew, who’d managed to push through the crush of people, elbowed James out of the way on my right.

“This is mad, my lord,” Evan said.

“I would have to agree. I am no Arthur,” I said.

Evan glanced at me, his expression puzzled. “I didn’t mean that, of course. I meant that you shouldn’t be exposing yourself in this way.”

“They love him,” Carew said, “and mean him no harm.” Even so, his eyes scanned the crowd and a hardness had come into his tone, matched by his downturned mouth and the grim lines around his eyes.

“My people mean well, my lord.” James hurried to keep up with Carew’s long strides.

“I believe you.” I took a deep breath and slowed, allowing James to catch up. People pressed us on every side, but here was my chance to speak to a genuine Englishman. “I would be pleased if you could explain to me, James, why your people are so accepting of me. King Arthur was a Welshman. He defeated the Saxons at Mt. Badon …” My voice trailed off at James’ raised eyebrows.

“Is that what your legends say?” James said. “I suppose those French ones do as well, but our people remember Arthur differently.”

“Perhaps you would be so kind as to speak to us of those tales,” Lili said, gracefully interceding. “We don’t know enough of them.”

James blushed and bowed, even while walking. “My lady, you honor me,” he said. “My lord, it may be that King Arthur defeated an army of Saxons that had invaded Wales, but did he lead his forces into England and overrun it, burning and pillaging everything in his path?”

“No.” Lili glanced at me. “No, he didn’t.”

“Did he enslave our people, force them to bow to him, or to give up our laws and lands in favor of his own?” James said.

“He did not,” I said.

James dipped his head. “You know, of course, that the monks at Glastonbury discovered the graves of King Arthur and Guinevere at their Abbey.”

“We heard that,” I said.

“King Arthur brought peace to this island; he protected the Cup of Christ and His memory,” James said. “Are you saying that you would do less than he?”

My teeth were clenched so tightly I could barely speak the words around them. “I would do all of those things.”

James’ eyes lit and he faced forward, a smile on his lips. Neither of us spoke again. What was there to say?

We passed the last house in the village and, still unscathed, entered a grassy expanse the size of a football field in front of the gatehouse of the castle. Like many castles in England, its original motte and bailey construction had given way to a grander design, most recently paid for by King Edward himself, before his death. Two round towers defended the gateway that greeted us and bore a marked resemblance to Rhuddlan Castle in Wales. Perhaps that shouldn’t have been surprising, considering Edward had ordered the building of both of them.

The castellan, a Sir George something or other, waited underneath the gatehouse, having left the portcullis up and the doors wide open, just as the town gate had been.

He strode forward to greet us and bowed. When he looked up, he had
tears
in his eyes. I would have laughed at the absurdity of it, but he was serious, and I couldn’t mock or belittle his beliefs—or the beliefs of any of these people.

“They really think you’re Arthur returned,” Lili said, as we followed Sir George into the bailey.

“So it seems,” I said.

In the middle of this century, Windsor Castle had withstood a siege from Simon de Montfort’s forces, and afterwards King Henry had a built a luxurious palace to replace what Montfort had burned. The lower ward consisted of a chapel, great hall, and the apartments of the king, which as regent, Humphrey de Bohun had put to his own use. Sir George took us through the lower ward to the more private upper ward, where our suite was located. Henry had built these apartments for the use of his wife and children.

I had decided not to say anything negative to Sir George about our elaborate reception. By this point, it was too late to stop what was going on. But when Sir George flung open the door to our suite, Carew turned on him: “What in the name of St. Mark is going on? You weren’t supposed to tell anyone that Prince David was coming here—for his own safety!”

“I apologize, my lord,” Sir George said, “but we had no way to keep it secret. The people of Windsor knew of his journey almost as soon as I did.”

Carew glared at him, clearly not buying his excuse. He flung out a hand to point towards the city. “Is tomorrow’s departure going to look like that? How can I protect him with that crush?”

Sir George’s eyes were wide and he was anxious to appease us. “I’m doing my best, my lord, but the people want to see Prince David. I could no more keep them back than reverse the course of the Thames.” Sir George pointed at me. “Only
he
can do that.”

Sir George was referring to one of the legends about King Arthur, one that said a sign of his return was the Thames River flowing upstream.

“It’s just this Arthur nonsense,” I said, trying to calm Carew. “Perhaps it will be better before dawn.”

Sir George looked from Carew to me. “But aren’t you King Arth—?”

“Of course n—” I began.

Carew spun on his heel to glare at me while at the same time Lili grabbed my arm, their disapproval forcing me to reconsider my words. While they didn’t expect me to accept Arthur’s mantle, they did expect me not to deny it outright.

Clare and Edmund had followed us from the bailey and now entered the room. Edmund closed the door to the suite. “You would be wise to lower your voices,” he said.

I nodded. It was time to mend some fences. “All is well. Carew is rightfully concerned that if word of my arrival in England preceded me to this point, then those who plot against me have had equal warning.” I clapped a hand on Sir George’s shoulder. “Thank you for your welcome. I am honored to have had such a fine reception.” I felt like I’d said that a hundred times already this trip, and we hadn’t even arrived in London yet.

“My lord.” Sir George bowed, somewhat appeased.

“If you would excuse us, we would wash before we eat,” I said.

“Of course, my lord,” Sir George said.

As Sir George departed, Bevyn, who’d been waiting outside, stepped through the doorway. “Branwen is coming, along with Jeeves. Evan and I will see to our people.”

“Thank you,” I said.

Bevyn bowed and followed Sir George.

Lili rubbed her eyes. “I don’t know about you, but I could lie down.” She disappeared through a far archway that led to the stairs up to our bedroom, one floor above. As promised, Branwen and Jeeves hurried in a moment later, with Tomos on their heels. I pointed to the stairs. Branwen and Jeeves went up them, while Tomos settled himself on the second step as an out of the way place to await my pleasure.

I turned to look at my three Norman advisors, and as I did so, realized that I no longer knew how much I could trust any of them. Or rather, it wasn’t that I couldn’t trust them, but I didn’t know if I could rely on them to do what
I
said, as opposed to what they thought was right. They would guard me with their lives, but all of them, and in this I included Bevyn, would filter information or withhold it if they thought it would serve me better.

“This Arthur thing,” I said. “I’m guessing that it hasn’t caught you all entirely by surprise like it has me?”

The men wore the same expression on their faces, as if my question had sparked the identical response in all three of them: that for once, maybe, they would tell me the truth. “That men here believe you are—or at least might be—the return of Arthur is not news to us,” Edmund said. “Rumors of your nobility spread to England years ago.”

“What do you mean,
years ago
?” I said.

Clare looked at me sideways. “You didn’t know?”

“No.”

“It was one of the reasons King Edward hated you so much,” Clare said. “One Christmas, he paced around his solar, raging at me and Roger for not taking care of you sooner—”

“Murdering me, you mean—”

“—or at the very least, for not killing your father when we had the chance.”

“My brother and I did try to kill your father.” Edmund bowed. “My regrets, my lord.”

“Thank goodness you bollixed it up,” Carew said.

Clare laughed.

I was pleased that all three men sounded pleased about that.

“Why do you think I didn’t hesitate to throw in my lot with you three years ago?” Carew said. “I knew then who you were. Your people have known from the day you saved your father’s life.”

Ack. I scrubbed at my hair with both hands. “Okay. I understand that you believe the legend, or whatever. But why does my presence here mean anything to the people of Windsor?”

The three men exchanged a glance. “They believe you to be Arthur returned too,” Carew said.

I managed to contain my sigh. “I realize that. But it would be helpful to discover exactly what that
means
. I tried to get it out of James, the headman of the town, but it’s still not clear to me. Who is Arthur to them? What are the details of the legend? Who do they think me to
be
?”

They stared at me blankly. It was like I’d asked them to explain why one plus one equaled two. They
knew
the answer and couldn’t believe something so simple needed an explanation. “You are the savior of Britain, of course,” Clare said. “You are the one who will rise up in our hour of need and lead us to victory over our enemies.”

And then Edmund recited, with sentiment and without irony, the poem I by now knew well, albeit stripped of its references to Wales:

He will come,

No longer hiding,

The dragon banner raised high,

The land will be red

With battle and strife.

None will stand against him.

All will fall to their knees before him.

When Arthur returns.

* * * * *

Later that night, I lay beside Lili, who had survived yet another state dinner without throwing it up. I was close to drifting off to sleep when she said, “I had Tomos do some inquiring for you.”

My eyes popped open. “Tomos? What did he do?”

“He speaks English and French, you know.”

“I do know. That’s one reason I picked him to be my squire,” I said. “But he’s meant to be my eyes and ears, not yours.”

“You were too busy tonight to think of it,” she said. “Near the end of the meal, he walked into Windsor with Carew’s squire, Gwilym, to inquire about a beer.”

“They went to a tavern?”

In the dark, I felt Lili’s nod. “As soon as the patrons learned he was your squire, he and Gwilym had as much free beer as they could drink.”

I had to smile. “Good thing he hasn’t tried this before, then, or he’d have been rolling home every night we’ve been in England.”

“He admits he was tempted to stay longer, but left after a short while, not wanting to be locked out of the castle when you might have need of him,” she said. “But he talked to a dozen townspeople. They confirmed what you heard: everyone believes you are the return of Arthur.”

“Again, I don’t even know what that means,” I said. “It’s silly.”

“Ssshhh!” Lili slapped me (gently) on the shoulder. “Don’t say that out loud. It’s not nice to mock.”

I rolled onto my side, trying to make out her expression by the light coming through the cracks in the window shutters. “You are right, of course, as always. From the first, you warned me that I couldn’t stop the legend. How many times have I denied it? It does no good.”

“I told you not to bother,” Lili said. “The moment you unfurled that banner—maybe even the moment you drove into that clearing at Cilmeri and saved your father’s life—it was too late.”

“So does this make you Gwenhwyfar?”

Lili wiggled uncomfortably. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“If I have to be Arthur, I don’t see why you can’t be Gwenhwyfar. It’s only fair,” I said. “Though … Anna truly doesn’t want the mantle of Morgane on her shoulders.”

“Your mother told me that the French invented the unpleasant aspect of her story,” Lili said complacently. “We can ignore it.”

“Did Tomos learn anything else?” I said.

Lili’s pressed her lips together, suddenly far less forthcoming, even if what she had to tell me next was the real point of this conversation.

“Is it something I don’t want to hear?” I said.

Lili plumped her pillow. “One of the townspeople described how you saved your father at Cilmeri. It wasn’t the real story, of course, but it was close—in that you and Anna charged into the fray and killed the attackers who besieged him.”