Gwenhwyfar (13 page)

What the queen had told her still warmed her heart and gave her a thrill of pride. It was one thing to have her father beaming at her—she was doing just what he had hoped one of his children would, she had joined the ranks of the warriors, she was doing well at her duties, and it was only natural that he was proud of her. Perhaps it was a mild surprise that it was Gwen in particular, but Braith was a trusted member of his elite fighting force, and the last thing he would do would be to prevent Gwen from following in the footsteps of such a valued warrior and driver.

But she was doing precisely the opposite of what the queen had planned for her. She’d avoided thinking about it, but underneath everything, she’d been certain that Eleri must be disappointed in her. Maybe angry.

But she wasn’t—so not only was Gwen proud and happy, she was relieved. It wasn’t often that Eleri changed her mind or her plans; it wasn’t often that she needed to. Gwen had felt the weight of Eleri’s expectations weighing her spirit down with dread; now that weight was gone, and she felt light enough to fly up to the moon.

Underneath all that was one thing more; the farther her duties took her from the women’s side of castle life, the less time she had to spend in Little Gwen’s company. That was a relief too. In fact, it was entirely possible that at some point she would be expected to move from that comfortable bed to a pallet in the great hall with the others. Little did they know that she would gladly trade that warm bed and its unruly occupant for relative discomfort and peace!

In the morning Gwen returned to the bedchamber, intending to leave the blanket and rug and go straight out to her duties, only to walk into a storm. And at the center of that storm was Little Gwen.

Cataruna stood with her arms crossed and her lips pressed tightly together as Little Gwen tore through the two packs she had carefully made up, hissing angrily that Cataruna had stolen
her
things. “Where is my comb?” she demanded, her voice getting louder with each moment. “You took it! And my ribbons! And my top!”

Quietly, Gwen edged into the room and dropped her burdens in the corner. She would have liked to edge out again, but by this point, Little Gwen’s tantrum was turning into a full blown tirade when she didn’t find any of the things she was claiming were “stolen.” Cataruna’s belongings were scattered all over the floor as if tossed by a whirlwind, and Bronwyn, awakened by the fuss, appeared at the door curtain—

But at that same moment, someone far more important than Bronwyn appeared at the door to the solar.

It was the king.

Without a word, he strode into the room, picked up Little Gwen by the scruff of her neck, and shook her until her teeth rattled. Shocked into silence, her eyes gone round as river stones, when he let go of her, she fell in an unmoving heap on the floor.

“How
dare
you disturb the queen’s rest?” he snarled, staring down at Little Gwen. “How dare you trouble the mother of my son? How
dare
you, miserable changeling? Enough! More than enough!” He turned to Bronwyn. “See to it that
she
repacks all of Cataruna’s things with care, while my good Cataruna breaks her fast. Then see to it that when the top and the ribbons are found, they are given to some child of the village who deserves a reward.”

He turned his gaze down on Little Gwen again. “I would have thought you had learned your lesson by now, but I see that you have not. Perhaps your hands are too idle. Perhaps you need more work to do.”

Little Gwen stared up at the king, her face blank.

Bronwyn compressed her lips tight. “That may be so, my Lord King,” she said. “Perhaps some kitchen work?”

Little Gwen made a faint sound of protest. The king ignored her. “Perhaps,” he said. “Perhaps she will learn that churlish manners lead to being set among the churls.”

Gwen winced. She knew that above all things, Little Gwen was proud. Being put with the lowest servants to do the most menial of tasks would be an agony to her.

The king turned to Cataruna and put gentle hands on her shoulders. “As for you, my daughter, go and break your fast well. We are pleased and proud that you are going to the Ladies; master your Blessing, become wise and true, and return to take your place at the queen’s right hand, first among your sisters. I shall be with you anon to bid you farewell.”

Cataruna’s lower lip trembled a trifle with emotion. “Thank you Father,” she said. “I will not fail you—”

The king chuckled slightly, and chucked her under the chin. “Now come, it is no more than a matter of lessons and learning, which we both know you excel at! You are not going off to battle but to something I think you will find a pleasure!” He gave her a gentle push in the direction of the hall. “Now go, for I am sure Bronwyn has managed something special from the cooks for you.”

Cataruna ducked her head in a quick curtsy and turned, whisking her skirts as she slipped under the door curtain. Gwen took the opportunity to follow her.

“What was that about?” she asked, as one of the maidservants intercepted Cataruna with a platter heaped with good things, obviously being saved for her.

“I knew there would be a pother last night,” Cataruna replied, as Gwen got a wooden platter and took bread and butter, cheese and carved cold meat from last night’s dinner. “You know how Little Brat hates it when a fuss is made over anyone but herself, and there was a double fuss after dinner. Mother asked me to sit beside her, and when they weren’t all talking about what I could expect to be learning from the Ladies, they were all talking about the baby. I could just see Little Gwen starting to get that look she gets when you know she’s going to do something.”

Gwen nodded; she knew that look all too well.

Cataruna shrugged. “I expected trouble from her last night, and I think perhaps Bronwyn did too. And maybe Mother. When we went to bed, Bronwyn gave us all possets to drink, and Little Gwen went straight to sleep. Bronwyn and I were able to pack my things in peace.”

“If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have slept outside,” Gwen said ruefully. “I wanted to think a while, and I didn’t want the brat poking and prodding at me.”

“Well, I wish Bronwyn hadn’t done that, because she was awake
far
too early, and the first thing she did was to tear into my packs.” Cataruna made a face. “Poor Gynath. You’re off with the squires all the time. Pretty soon you’ll all be made into a real warband, and you’ll all be doing everything together. It could even be that you’ll be out in the Great Hall with them, to sleep, and she’ll be the one left to deal with the Brat.” The eldest of the king’s daughters sighed and ate some bread dipped in honey. “I am not going to miss that.”

“Are you going to miss any of this?” Gwen asked curiously.

“Truthfully?” Cataruna nibbled pensively on her bread. “I don’t think so. I don’t make friends the way Gynath does, none of the boys here make me want to kiss them, I
truly
will be glad to see the last of the Brat, and until now there was nothing really special about me except I was the eldest.”

Gwen blinked, wondering obscurely if she ought to feel hurt by such a revelation. But she and Cataruna were too far apart in age to have been close—

“Until now, I never really had anything for myself,” Cataruna was continuing. “Oh, I had the Blessing, but from what I heard it was never as strong as yours. I’m not pretty, like Gynath and Little Gwen, and I would never want to be a warrior. Up until you got singled out by Braith, I was just—really, nothing special.
You
were the one that was going to the Ladies as soon as you ever could, and if I went, it would be only after you came back. And since everyone expected great things of you, I’d still be coming in your shadow.”

Something about Cataruna’s tone made Gwen feel obscurely guilty. And even gladder that she’d had Braith to send her in another direction.

“But now—” Cataruna finished the bread with a lift of her head and an air of satisfaction. “Now it’s
me
that’s going to the Ladies, and it’ll be me that will be the Maiden in the Circle when I get back. And the Ladies won’t know, or won’t care, what great things were expected of you. You’ve gone the path of Iron, and you’ll never be as strong in magic as me now. So when I come back, I’ll be me, Cataruna, with my own place and my own path, just as you’ll have your own place and your own path.” She turned her head to look at Gwen. “I’m really grateful to you, Gwen. That’s why I don’t think I’ll miss home too much. It’s not as if I won’t be coming back, but when I do, it will be as the Blessed Daughter. You’ll be the Warrior Daughter by then, and Gynath—” she chuckled a little “—Gynath will have half the war chiefs wanting her for a bride, and she’ll make Father some good alliance, and then she’ll make him a grandfather, if she hasn’t already by the time I get back. Who knows? Maybe she’ll even get a prince.”

She didn’t say anything about Little Gwen, and Gwen was not inclined to prompt her on that head.

“Did you really want to go to the Ladies that much?” she asked instead.

“As much as you wanted to be a warrior,” Cataruna said fiercely.

“Then I’m
glad
you’re going.” Gwen surprised her sister, and to an extent herself, by fiercely embracing her.

Cataruna returned the embrace. “And I’m glad you’re happy where you are.” She nodded. “We’re lucky.”

“We are.”

At that moment, Bronwyn made her way across the Great Hall, trailed by a servant with Cataruna’s two packs. Cataruna eyed them curiously.

“The king your father thought of several more things you should take with you,” Bronwyn said, with a glint in her eye, but her lips set in a severe line. “Little Gwen will be making do with made-over gowns for a time; I trust you will find moments to spare to make yourself suitable garments with the lengths in the bottom of the packs.”

Cataruna could not repress a gasp of pleasure; all the girls knew about the lengths of lambs’ wool and linen that had been reserved for Little Gwen. Gwen had been indifferent, since gowns were the last thing on her mind at the moment, but she suspected Cataruna and Gynath had suffered a pang or two of envy. “I shall find the time, somewhere,” she promised fervently. “Father is most gracious.”

Bronwyn looked as if she might say more, but in the end, she only nodded. “Come, it is time. Your escort is waiting.”

But it seemed that more than just the escort was waiting. The king himself came to see his daughter off, something else Cataruna had clearly not expected. He lifted her onto the horse himself, after kissing her on both cheeks. “We send nothing but our best to the Ladies,” he boomed, in a voice intended to carry. “And we know you will make us all proud.”

With her head high, her cheeks glowing, and her eyes shining, Cataruna bowed deeply to her father; then at a word from the king, she and the escort rode off at a brisk walk and were soon over the hill and out of sight.

Bronwyn remained staring after them long after everyone else had gone to their duties, one hand on Gwen’s shoulder, preventing her from leaving. When there was no one else within earshot, Bronwyn looked somberly down at her.

“I would not say this in Cataruna’s hearing, but it was a spiteful splash of venom from that unnatural child that caused the king to rethink her leave-taking.
Why such a pother over the second best,
she said. And in the next moment, she turned her eyes on the servant and had
him
doing the packing for her!” Bronwyn’s lips tightened. “I confess that I am sorely tried by that child. If I had not been the midwife myself, I would suspect her of being a changeling. I think it may be she has some different magic of her own, not out of her mother, of charm or glamorie, that she is only yet vaguely aware of. And this is why I decided to speak to you.”

“To me?” Gwen was astonished. “But—”

“If that child does have such a thing, the queen has armored the king against it, as she has armored him against any ill magics—which is why she could not sway his anger. But there are others that will have no such armoring, and they may be those with whom you must deal.” Bronwyn shook her graying head. “I wish to tell you to be wary of rousing the child’s envy. Try not to come between her and something she wants, at least until I have devised a means to deal with her, or discovered what it is that she has.” She looked up again, down the road that Cataruna was traveling. “I am very glad that Cataruna is well away. And Gynath, I think, is safe enough for now. But you have ever had her enmity, and it is best you stay out of her gaze.”

Well, that was easy enough to promise. “I will,” she said, and Bronwyn let her go.

But it was troubling. This was the second time that someone she trusted had warned her against Little Gwen, and in terms that suggested she was more than just a spiteful little girl.

She ignored him, working hard on her horse’s harness with a polishing cloth, a little oil, and talc, trying to get the brass bits to look like gold. The leather was already cleaned and oiled and as supple as a snake. Adara and Dai were groomed within an inch of their lives every day, their hooves oiled, their manes and tails braided and clubbed up to keep them from tangling. Midsummer was barely a week away now, and, as usual, many of her father’s war chiefs would be arriving for the festival and the rites. Braith was coming. There would be some abbreviated races—nothing like the ones in the autumn, since some of the mares had foals at heel and you wouldn’t race one of those, but there would be a maiden race for the pages and squires, since all of them had horses past breeding age or geldings. Gwen was riding and driving both, and she desperately wanted Braith to be proud of how far she had come. She wasn’t really concerned about winning the races—some of the others had horses much younger than hers, three of the boys about her age were, frankly, more skilled. But she
did
want Braith to see that her backing hadn’t been misplaced.