The Dragon Prince (40 page)

Before they reached the perimeter of the
camp, Eastra, Beli, and Owain dismounted and discussed how to
proceed. Owain wanted to find Arthur and bring him to Eastra, who
would wait in the woods nearby. He worried that if Eastra should be
recognized by Arthur’s men, she might be taken prisoner or even
killed.

Eastra argued that except for Arthur’s
Companions, few of the Britons had ever seen her, and if she wore
her cloak over her light hair, she should be safe enough. Besides,
she wasn’t certain Arthur would agree to meet with her. Confronting
him in his tent might be the only way she would have a chance to
speak to him. Reluctantly, Owain agreed.

As they entered their camp, it was obvious
the Britons were preparing to march. Armor bearers and servants
hurried to and fro, carrying weapons, leading horses, dismantling
tents. In the midst of the confusion, Eastra wondered if they might
not pass unnoticed all the way to the center of the camp where
Arthur’s purple pennant, adorned with a golden bear and a white
eagle, marked the headquarters of the high king. But they were
finally stopped by a grizzled-looking sentry who demanded to know
their business.

Owain replied they were on their way to
speak to Arthur. When the sentry continued to glare at them
suspiciously, Owain provided the additional information that he was
one of Maelgwn the Great’s captains. Once again the Cymru king’s
name opened the way for them. The sentry’s dour expression
brightened, and he immediately offered to take them to Arthur.

The sentry led them through the churned mud
and scattered refuse of the departing army to the headquarters of
the high king. There they were again questioned by guards. While
Owain once more invoked Maelgwn’s name, Eastra looked around,
hoping desperately for a glimpse of Rhun. A part of her wanted to
forget all about talking to Arthur and instead seek out her love
and somehow convince him to leave with her.

But she couldn’t do that, she told herself.
More was at stake than Rhun’s life. If the Britons marched into
battle against the Saxons and the Picts, hundreds, perhaps
thousands, of men would die. For the sake of those men and their
families, she had to try to stop the impending battle.

The guards finally motioned Owain forward,
but blocked the way when she and Beli tried to follow. “The lady is
known to Arthur,” Owain insisted. “I believe he would wish to see
her.” When the guards still balked, he drawled contemptuously, “Has
the high king grown so cautious that he refuses to allow a young
maid into his tent for fear she is a spy or assassin?”

Owain’s sarcasm had the desired effect.
Eastra was waved forward.

They entered the tent. Arthur was seated on
a stool by a small table, peering at a parchment map. It seemed to
Eastra that he had aged since she last saw him. The lines
bracketing his mouth and etching his forehead appeared deeper, and
he’d lost flesh.

Owain bowed. “My lord, I am Owain ap Pharic
of north Gwynedd.” At the word “Gwynedd,” Arthur seemed to
straighten. Then Owain said, “And this woman is Princess Eastra of
the Saxons.” Although Arthur did not react to this, the youth
seated on the floor of the tent polishing the high king’s armor
jerked his head up.

Owain nodded to Eastra. She pulled back her
hood and squared her shoulders. Then she bowed, “Sire.”

There was a long moment as Eastra caught her
breath and gathered her thoughts. “No doubt you thought I was
dead,” she began. “But I am alive. And so is your son, Mordred. No
matter what you have heard, be assured he still lives. I spoke with
him only yesterday.”

Arthur didn’t respond, only waited, his gray
eyes piercing her, as if he could, by force of will, see into the
very marrow of her bones.

“But all is not well,” she continued.
“Mordred plots with my Uncle Cerdic to bring you down. They have
joined forces with the Picts, and they plan to bring their combined
army against you.” She hesitated at the coldness of her next words.
“Mordred has vowed to kill you himself. I heard him say so with my
own ears.”
What did he feel
, she wondered.
This man who
was like a god to so many, but so hated by his own flesh and
blood?

Arthur let out his breath in a sound that
was almost a sigh. The weariness she’d glimpsed when she first saw
him seemed to weigh upon him even heavier. “Why do you come here?”
he asked. “Why tell me these things? Did Cerdic send you?”

“Nay. If Cerdic had known my intentions, he
would never have let me leave his camp. I come here on my own. I
came because—” She struggled to sound convincing. “Because I am
tired of seeing men die, of seeing families ripped apart by grief,
children torn from their parents. I want this fighting between our
peoples to end. One of your captains, Rhun ap Maelgwn, has told me
he doesn’t believe you can win this war. If that’s true, why not
end it now, before more men die? If the Britons go back to their
farmsteads and settlements and forts, Cerdic will leave you alone.
Cede to him the east, and the north to the Picts, and you will
still have half of the south of the island for your own
people.”

“And Cerdic’s sons and grandsons?” The
glimmer of a bitter smile played upon Arthur’s mouth. He shook his
head. “Nay, they will not be satisfied with
part
of Britain.
They will want it all, and then the fighting will begin all over
again.”

Eastra feared he was right, but that didn’t
mean she intended to give up. “Aye, but until then, we might have
peace for a generation. Or even longer. Time to raise our children,
rebuild our settlements, to heal the damage that two score years of
war have wrought.”

“I believe you are sincere, Princess Eastra.
And brave and noble as well. But you must understand, the die is
cast. There is no turning back. I have lived my whole life,
sacrificed near everything I hold dear, for the sake of this dream.
I cannot abandon it now.”

“No matter who suffers?” she asked angrily.
“Are you not a compassionate man, a
Christian?
I’ve heard
your god tells his followers to love their enemies. Yet you have
unceasingly shed the blood of my countrymen, slaughtered women and
children, burned and plundered and ravaged from one end of this
land to the other!” She was almost shouting now. All her anger and
grief came rushing out. She wanted to hurt him, to make him think
about what,
exactly,
his noble dream had wrought. “Your son
despises you, and who can blame him? You were willing to sacrifice
even
him,
your own flesh and blood, for the sake of your
ambition!”

Arthur’s face changed. The weary, resigned
expression was gone, and he stared at her with a stunned
expression. “Who told you such a thing?”

Eastra hesitated. Mordred might be the very
weapon she could use against him. If she could arouse the high
king’s regret for what he’d done in the past, perhaps she could
influence what he did in the future. “Morguese told me,” she
answered. “She told me what you said when you learned she was
carrying your child.”

Arthur glanced at Owain and at the servant
polishing his armor. “Leave us,” he said. It was the command of a
man used to being obeyed.

“Eastra,” Owain pleaded.

She shook her head. “Do as he asks.”

When they were alone, Arthur took a step
toward her. She could see his hands were clenched into fists. Fear
swept over her. He took another step nearer and dread choked her
throat. “What does Morguese want with me now?” he demanded. “Why
did she send you here?”

Arthur’s eyes looked cold. Eastra swallowed.
What was she thinking, goading this powerful man when he was
already beset on every side? She struggled for composure. Although
Arthur might strike her in a rage, she didn’t think he would kill
her. “Nay, Morguese didn’t send me,” she responded. “But she did
tell me you ordered her to leave Mordred out for the wolves when he
was born. She said you wanted him to die because he might interfere
with your dream of ruling all of Britain.”

As quickly as it had appeared, Arthur’s
anger seemed to vanish. “That was not the way of it at all... but
even so, I do owe penance for that, for telling her to kill him at
birth.” He sighed heavily. “But I was very young, and overwhelmed
by what we’d done. She’d tricked me, and I was angry, angry enough
to compound the sin, to make it into the curse it has since
become.” He gave a kind of shiver, and then his eyes met Eastra’s.
“But wretched Mordred is not all my doing. She spoiled him, raised
him to be ambitious and power-mad. By the time he came to me, he
was already ruined. I tried to give him a chance, to offer him what
love I could, but it was too late.”

Eastra nodded. She believed him. There was
something wrong with Mordred. She’d felt it as soon as she met
him.

Arthur sighed again. “Or maybe it was our
sin that blackened his soul beyond redemption.”

“Sin?” she asked puzzled. This was the
second time he had used that word. She knew it was something bad,
something evil, but she was not certain exactly what Arthur meant.
“Is it because she used a spell to entice you into her bed? Is that
why you were angry? Is that why it was a sin?”

Arthur gave her a desperate look, as if he
were pleading with her to understand. “You’re not Christian, are
you?”

Eastra shook her head.

“But your people do have taboos, things that
they’re not allowed to do, lest they lose the favor of their gods.
Is that not right?”

“Aye.”

“Well, what Morguese and I did is
considered... taboo. You see, we have the same father. She is
Uther’s bastard just as I am. For us to share a bed is...” He took
a deep breath. “For people who worship the old gods, it is
considered unchancy and dangerous. For a Christian, it is an
abomination.”

“Morguese is your half sister?” Eastra
gasped. “But then why does she hate you? Why does she plot your
death?”

“If you were to ask Morguese that, she would
say she is only obeying the Goddess, and that I must die because I
have fought to make the Christian God more honored than the Great
Mother. She will say she has seen my death, and hence it must come
to pass. As for what glory she has seen for Mordred, who knows?
Even if I die, few men will follow him.”

That was true, Eastra thought. No Saxon
would trust a man who killed his father. That thought led to
another thought, and she seized upon it. “Mordred means to kill
you,” she said. “Knowing what he is, what he is capable of, do you
truly think it wise to face him on the battlefield?”

Arthur’s expression grew grim. “If he wants
to kill me, he’ll have to fight better than I’ve ever seen him
fight. I’m old and slower than I used to be, but that has only made
me more cunning and shrewd. But, nay, I will not shy from battle
because I fear him, even though a secret part of me wonders if that
is not his destiny, to kill me and finally cleanse me of my dread
sin. For if I die by his hand, the debt will be paid, and maybe
then God will see fit to answer my prayers and allow my people to
triumph.”

Eastra could not understand his reasoning.
All this talk of sin and debts seemed very odd. If Arthur had been
tricked into lying with Morguese, why did he feel he was to
blame?

She would have to ask Rhun sometime to tell
her more about this Christian God who seemed so rigid and harsh, so
demanding of his followers.
Rhun.
That was the other reason
she had come here. It was clear she had failed to dissuade Arthur
from going to war against Cerdic. He seemed resigned to his fate,
determined to follow his dream to its tragic, deadly end. But that
did not mean Rhun had to die as well.

“There is a man I love,” she said. “One of
your Companions, Rhun ap Maelgwn. I am carrying his child, and I
would not have it left fatherless ere it is even born.” She touched
her stomach. “If you would release him from his vow to you, his
oath to fight for Britain, I would be most grateful.”

What a hopeless, pathetic request it was.
She had nothing to bargain with. There was no reason for Arthur to
do as she wished and give up one of his best warriors. Obviously
needed every man he could inveigle, entice, or threaten into
fighting for him.

Arthur returned to the table in the center
of the tent. He fingered one of the rolled-up parchments lying
there. “As I have said, you are courageous and bold, Princess
Eastra, a most remarkable woman. And so young and lovely it near
breaks my heart to look at you. No doubt you have suffered. I hear
the pain in your voice when you speak of your dead kin. For that I
am sorry. I have never given my men orders to kill women or
children. But war is brutal and harsh... as you well know.” Her
heart sank at the realization he was going to refuse her. “If I
could grant your request, I would,” he continued. “But... I have
not seen Rhun for over a sennight. He went to Gwynedd to visit his
sick stepmother and hasn’t returned.”

She stared at him. “He hasn’t returned?
But...”

“I have kept hoping, thinking he must still
be trying to persuade his father and some of the other chieftains
to join us.” He raised his gaze to hers. “But since I don’t know
where he is, I can hardly release him from his vow.”

It was Eastra’s turn to be stunned. She’d
assumed Rhun had joined up with Arthur’s army as soon as he left
Deganwy. That was four days ago. Where was he? Was Arthur correct
in thinking Rhun was still trying to secure allies for the coming
battle?

For days she had been pushing herself,
fighting through the exhaustion, forcing herself to go on. She’d
told herself if she could only speak to Cerdic and then to Arthur,
she could halt this upcoming battle and save untold lives.

And beyond her quest to bring peace, her
other hope had been to find Rhun and somehow find a way to keep him
from danger. Now, all at once, the disappointment and futility of
everything she had done caught up with her. She felt exhausted and
weak, utterly despairing. With effort, she struggled to stay on her
feet.