Shadow of Stone (The Pendragon Chronicles) (52 page)

And still he'd heard nothing. Not for the first time, he wondered if he would ever see her again.

When Cador neared the stables behind the principia, Arthur was already there, pacing impatiently. Cador did not think he was particularly late, but Arthur was not one who liked to wait on others.

The Dux Bellorum stopped and faced him. "What is it you wanted to show me?"

"A stallion I bought last year at the horse fair in Durnovaria." Cador held up a hand, stalling Arthur's protests. "Yes, I know you prefer mares, but just take a look at him. You may still decide you do not want him as a war horse, but I swear by everything I hold dear that you will at least consider it."

Arthur folded his arms in front of his chest and nodded shortly, a faint smile tilting up one side of his mouth. "Is that a bet, cousin?"

"If you want it to be."

"Come, let us see this gem of an animal. A gem of your choosing if you are right."

Cador chuckled, squinting into the bright spring sun. The day had turned out perfect to show off the black — his stunning coat would show to advantage in this light. He gestured to the stablehand standing ready. "Bring the stallion, please."

The black trotted into the yard like a king, snorting and throwing back his head so that his mane rippled in cascades of shimmering darkness. Cador heard Arthur draw in a quick breath and he smiled; for a change, it turned out to be a blessing that horses were as vain as their masters, if not more so. The stablehand winked, and Cador smiled back.

"Where have you been hiding him?" Arthur breathed.

Cador laughed. "Hardly hiding. He has been servicing the mares in Lindinis. I wanted to have as many offspring by him as possible."

"What do you call him?"

"Hengroen."

"You were right, he's magnificent."

The stallion's coat glimmered blue-black in the sun, but more important for his use as a potential war horse were the intelligence in his eyes, the nicely turned-over neck, high withers, sloping shoulders, and good depth in the back that promised speed and endurance.

"Are you interested?" Cador asked.

"Yes. I'll take him. Whatever price you ask and a gem of your choosing." Just like that.

"There's one other thing," Cador began.

Arthur smiled. "I thought there would be. No one gives up a horse like that without ulterior motives."

Cador chuckled. "Yes, well, I hope with a new mount for you, as well as the other additions to your stable that I've made, that my job here is done for a time. I would like to leave Caer Leon for a month or two to take care of other business."

"You are free to leave any time."

"I know that, but I think you also know that my sense of loyalty to you would prevent me from doing so as long as you need me."

Arthur clapped him on the back. "I appreciate it, more than ever in these times when loyalty seems to be harder and harder to come by."

Cador nodded. "I know he's young yet, but Kustennin could take over from me while I'm gone. He spent much of his youth in the stables of Lindinis, and he knows horses."

Arthur shrugged. "The Frankish king Chlodovech was only twenty when he defeated the Romans at Suessionum. And Alexander the Great no older when he began to take over the known world, if the history taught us is to be believed. Kustennin should have no problem taking charge of the horses."

"True."

Arthur must have heard a father's skepticism in his voice. "He is a man grown, Cador, and he learns quickly. He will make a fine Master of Horse while you are away."

* * * *

Less than half a days' ride on the road north, Bedwyr and two of his men caught up with Cador's party.

"Bedwyr! What are you doing here?"

"Modrun told me of your plans and I decided to come along."

Cador almost protested that he had not informed Modrun of his plans — until he realized that he had not been masking his thoughts. Of course Modrun knew what he intended to do.

Bedwyr drew up next to him. "I can help you when we reach Caer Gai, you know."

Cador nodded. "Yes, but with you and Cai and Myrddin all absent, who is to keep Arthur from being influenced too much by the wrong people?"

"Modrun is still there. And many other loyal warriors — such as Kustennin."

Cador wasn't convinced. Nonetheless, he was glad of Bedwyr's company on the journey to the fortress on the border between Venedotia and Powys.

Cai's seat was a former Roman garrison, refortified by his grandfather Gaius in the times of trouble after the Roman army had withdrawn from Britain. When they rode through the gates, Cador was surprised at how run-down the place appeared. On the other hand, Cai spent too much time in service with Arthur to really be able to run his own small holding.

At first, Cai proved extremely stubborn at their attempts to persuade him to travel south.

"If you were in Lindinis, Celemon could visit you more often — and Bedwyr might even be able to convince Arthur to meet with you there," Cador argued. "He needs you, Cai."

Cai lounged in a high-backed chair, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his expression stony. "Did he say so?"

"No, but —"

"Then he obviously does not need me."

Bedwyr slapped the flat of his hands down on the table and leaned forward. "Cador is right and you know it. The three of us belong together, we're a team. We've fought together since we reached the age of choice. Even our marriages always came second to our friendship."

"Then why did Arthur listen to Ginevra and not you or me?"

Cador jumped in. "I truly think he only meant you to go away from Caer Leon for a short time, give people a chance to forget."

"Have they forgotten? Has Ginevra?"

"Not Ginevra, no."

"Then how do you think I can return? Arthur values peace in his domestic life more than me."

Bedwyr shook his head, pursing his lips. "There will never again be peace in Arthur's domestic life, Cai."

"What do you mean?"

Cador and Bedwyr glanced at each other, and then Cador addressed Cai. "Ginevra and Medraut are having an affair."

Cai stared at them for a moment before answering. "Does Arthur know?"

"No."

"Why have you not told him?"

"You know how Arthur is about Medraut since his nephew saved his life," Bedwyr said. "Arthur needs those loyal to him close right now. Besides, if he has to go to war against Chlodovech, you are so remote here, you may not be able to join the army headed to Gaul in time."

Cai sighed. "As I cannot return to Caer Leon while the accusations against me still stand, perhaps Lindinis would be a compromise."

"And you can take over my stables while I take over yours," Cador added.

The way Cai's lips tightened, it was obvious he was not yet ready to joke about the situation. Bedwyr threw Cador a warning glance.

"We will figure out a way to rehabilitate you," Bedwyr said.

"The only way to do that would be to find the beggar who accused me. Or perhaps Myrddin."

"Gareth's men have searched Caer Leon and Caer Gwent for Peredur's witness, with no luck," Cador said.

"Perhaps Gawain could get more out of Peredur," Cai suggested. "They used to ride together, after all."

Cador and Bedwyr looked at each other. The seat of Gawain's wife Ragnell was not far from Peredur's seat at Eburacum. But Cador didn't know if he was up to visiting his wife's former lover.

"We will do it," Bedwyr said quickly before Cador could voice any objections.

Cador sighed.

* * * *

On the journey through the northern provinces of Britain, Cador finally began to understand on a more visceral level what had driven the sons of Caw and their allies to attack Dumnonia. Long before they reached the seat of Ragnell and Gawain in Elmet, they began to meet begging children on the road, children whose limbs were little more than skin and bone, children who seemed to consist merely of outstretched hands and eyes too large for their faces.

At first, Cador gave to every child who approached him, but he noticed that the farther north they traveled, and the more children who approached them, the less he gave. Yes, he was running out of the old copper coins most people in Britain still carried with them in the pouches at their waist for everyday purchases — but with every mile they traveled, he was also becoming more inured to the sight of hunger.

And they were not even in the regions seriously struck by the previous harsh winters yet — Hadrian's Wall was still over a hundred miles away.

To Cador's relief, the small kingdoms in the region of Elmet did not seem quite as hard struck as some of the areas they passed through. The village at the foot of Caer Camulodon, while far from a bustling town like Caer Leon or Lindinis, seemed prosperous enough.

As they approached the ramparts of the hill-fort, Cador had to suppress his discomfort. The last time he'd seen Gawain, the other man had been kissing his wife. Then the heavy wooden doors were thrown open, and Gawain stepped forward, a sleeping infant on his right shoulder.

"Welcome, friends!"

They dismounted, and Cador let Bedwyr greet their host first. Finally, the moment could be put off no longer. He stretched out his hand. "It is good to see you again Gawain."

"What brings you so far north?"

"We are trying to assist Cai in returning to Caer Leon," Bedwyr said. "And we were hoping you might be able to help."

Gawain pursed his lips, and the baby on his shoulder squirmed. Cador found himself charmed by the image of the famous warrior not above carrying an infant in public. "I do not know how much success I would have. Peredur came here after Loholt's death, and I sent him away."

Cador's hopes sank.

Their host led them into the hill-fort, explaining that Ragnell had not come to greet them because she was feeling unwell. "She's pregnant with our second already, but she's having a harder time of it than with Gyngolyn here." Suddenly Gawain laughed. "You must think it strange for me to come out to you like this, with a tiny babe on my arms."

"The question
had
occurred to me what became of the famous warrior Gawain," Bedwyr drawled.

Gawain laughed again. "It's odd, I know. I have several bastards already, but I have never been a father. I'm enjoying it more than I could have imagined." He turned to Cador with a smile. "I'm slowly becoming a farmer king too."

Not for the first time, Cador found himself envious of his friend — but for a very different reason. Once again, they had changed places, only this time it was not regarding the woman. While Cador had reluctantly taken on a major role in Caer Leon, Gawain now spent most of his time happily overseeing his own kingdom.

Cador wondered if he would still be able to create something similar to what Gawain had — assuming he was lucky enough to have a second chance.

* * * *

Before the evening meal, Gawain drew Cador aside. "Has there been any news from Yseult?"

Cador shook his head. "Not since last summer. I can only hope it is a sign she still lives: news of royal deaths always seem to reach us somehow, no matter how rough the seas."

Gawain gripped his shoulder, and Cador couldn't help remembering how this man had gripped his wife's shoulders while he kissed her.

Gawain dropped his hand. "You have nothing to fear from me, Cador," he said quietly. "She wanted no more from me after marrying you. And now — now I have Ragnell. Still ... Yseult ... I worry. I — for years, she was very important to me. And a friend for many more."

At a loss for words, Cador recalled the way he'd felt after Cwylli's death, even though they had shared no more physical intimacy than a mad, impulsive session against a wall in his villa.

He nodded shortly. "I think I understand. Let us speak no more of it."

Gawain heaved a sigh of relief.

* * * *

Despite Gawain's pessimism regarding Peredur, he agreed to accompany them to Eburacum. But before they had even begun to plan their journey, an urgent message reached them from Caer Leon. Chlodovech had finally made good his threat and attacked the easternmost kingdoms of Armorica. Arthur intended to sail for Gaul at the earliest opportunity and required the presence of all his companions.

* * * *

A dismal spring shower pelted Medraut as he waited at the docks of Moridunum, the largest port in this part of Britain. His mother and grandmother had not been blessed with auspicious weather for their arrival. At least here they were far from the armies of the Frankish king Chlodovech. As rough as the seas had turned, it was fortunate they arrived safely.

Squinting into the rain, he watched as the landing boat was rowed to the docks. Beside him stood Arthur and Aircol, king in these parts, and beside Arthur, Ginevra, who luckily had her attention trained on the refugees being rowed to shore rather than on him.

Ygerna was helped out of the landing boat first, and Arthur stepped forward to embrace her. "Welcome to Britain, Mother."