Shadow of Stone (The Pendragon Chronicles) (56 page)

Yseult shook her head. "His mind is closed to me — he has learned the trick."

"That complicates things. And of course the fact that we have so few warriors in Caer Leon. I'll think about it."

It was not as much as she had hoped for, but at least he had listened to her and taken her words seriously. And he was warned of potential conflict brewing.

As she left the principia, her gaze caught on a warrior with an evil scar on his cheek and forehead, a diagonal gash nearly cutting his face in half, still healing. Like the wound Modrun had given the warrior who'd thrown her from her horse.

She glanced at the rest of the party of warriors. Leading their way was Arthur's handsome nephew, Medraut, his dark brown hair curling around his collar.

* * * *

On a late summer afternoon a little over a week after Modrun's funeral, Yseult was sitting with Brangwyn in the house she had taken in Caer Leon. Brangwyn had come for the funeral and remained while Yseult took up the search for the beggar. Without Modrun it would be difficult. Memories of memories told her little, and instead of magic they were forced to resort to inquiries among the unfortunate and disadvantaged of Caer Leon. Yseult longed to leave intrigue behind and return to Lindinis, but she felt obligated to continue the search that had killed her friend.

"I do not think you should go among the former slaves anymore," Brangwyn said. "Even cloaking yourself in illusion may not be enough to hide what you are doing. If it comes to Medraut's ears that questions are being asked, he will be quick to draw conclusions."

Yseult watched Riona crawl in the direction of the fountain, where a fearless robin was washing its feathers. "I should talk to Aurelius before he leaves Caer Leon. I think he will believe what I saw. Then he and his brother Caradoc can take over searching for the beggar."

Brangwyn nodded slowly. "Yes, Aurelius will believe you. But you must impress on him the need for proof before accusing Medraut — as opposed to Gareth, he might be
too
inclined to regard your vision as enough." She rose from the bench where they sat and got down on her knees next to Riona. The baby gave her a smile and crawled faster. Finally the bird decided the company was too much and flew away. Just as Yseult was considering whether she should fetch her writing set and begin a letter, Ginevra was announced.

Ginevra entered the garden, and Yseult rose, smiling. "Welcome! Riona and Brangwyn and I were just enjoying the sun. Would you care to join us?"

"Gladly."

Ginevra sank down on a bench, and Yseult instructed the servant to bring refreshments. Riona was still crawling around in the garden, laughing at all the adventures the world had to offer, while Brangwyn crawled around with her, to the baby's glee.

"Any word from Arthur?" Yseult asked.

The younger woman gave a guilty start. "Not for nearly a month."

In recent weeks, Ginevra's thoughts had become harder to read — perhaps Medraut had finally managed to teach her the trick of building a wall in her mind. But today, Yseult could feel a tumult of tension and happiness and fear, too much for Ginevra to shield from her. What was going on?

Yseult sighed. "I had hoped you would have more recent news of the war than I."

"I am so tired of war!" Ginevra rose and sat down next to Riona and Brangwyn on the mosaic floor. "Tell me instead how Riona gets on."

Yseult smiled. "There is little to tell — you see her several times a week."

"Has she learned any words besides 'mama' yet?"

"No, but she understands more and more. I wish Cador were here to experience it."

"She understands quite a bit," Brangwyn said, chuckling. "Riona." The baby looked up at her mother's cousin, her expression alert. "Riona, can you find Ginevra?"

Riona looked around until her gaze lit on the newcomer. She let out a giggling gurgle of accomplishment and crawled over to the queen of Cerniw. Ginevra laughed out loud at Riona's attention, and Yseult felt the other woman's guard drop. Ginevra was thrilled that the baby already knew her name, was so happy with a baby around, would be even happier when her own child arrived.
A babe to replace Loholt
.

And then Yseult knew the reason for Ginevra's conflicting emotions — Arthur's wife was pregnant. She glanced at Brangwyn and saw the stunned confirmation in her cousin's eyes.

Ginevra was expecting a baby that was impossibly Arthur's.

* * * *

The next evening, Yseult sought out Gareth at home rather than in the principia, taking Riona and Brangwyn along to make it look like a private visit. While Lyonors and Brangwyn sat together with a glass of wine and watched the children play, Yseult drew Gareth aside. "I know you will not want to hear this, but I think you should reconsider putting a guard on Ginevra."

He glanced at her sharply. "Why?"

"She's pregnant."

"And Arthur is not the father?"

She shook her head.

Gareth drew in a deep breath. "Are you sure?"

"Gareth, think, Arthur has been gone for almost five months. And Ginevra is still as slim as she ever was."

Normally Gawain's youngest brother was a good-natured man, not as inclined to swear as most warriors, but now he let out a string of angry curses beneath his breath, a creative mix of both Latin and British.

"I'm afraid when she begins to show it will force Ginevra and Medraut to take action," Yseult murmured.

"I presume it will." He dragged his blond bangs back from his forehead. "I will post a guard on Ginevra's lodgings."

* * * *

The leaves were beginning to turn when she had a message from Aurelius: they'd had no luck finding the beggar, but he'd located Modrun's missing man-at-arms, Kevern.

"Apparently Kevern thought Medraut would murder him too if he knew he'd survived, so he went into hiding," Yseult told Brangwyn that evening at supper. "Hopefully he will be able to identify the assassins."

"And then what?" Brangwyn said, feeding a piece of apple to Riona, who sucked and chewed happily with her baby teeth. "Do you really think Ginevra will believe a common soldier that Medraut arranged Modrun's death?"

As much as she hated to admit it, Yseult knew Brangwyn was right. Ginevra could be very stubborn when she'd made up her mind about something — and not only had she made up her mind about Medraut, he was the father of her unborn child.

"At least with a witness, Medraut could be publicly accused of Modrun's murder," Yseult said with more confidence than she felt.

Her sleep that night was uneasy, her dreams vivid and disturbing. In the middle of the night, she shot up in bed, her heart pounding wildly, the way it would if she had been woken by a loud noise. She shook her head. She heard no sign of trouble, nothing that would account for the way she'd started awake. Nonetheless, the feeling gripping her chest tight was the same she'd had when she smelled smoke in the attack on Ard Ladrann in her youth, or when she'd awoken in the church outside of Dyn Tagell before hiding in the caves, or when the rebel Laigin tribes had attacked Druim Dara just over a year ago.

Something was wrong.

She threw back the covers and swung her legs out of bed, grabbing for the clothes she'd discarded on a nearby stool. Yanking the shift down around her hips, she leaned over Riona's bed. Her daughter was tossing her arms restlessly but still asleep, and Yseult hurried out of her chamber. In the atrium with its open ceiling, she finally
did
hear it: the distant sound of blades clashing and warriors cursing and bystanders screaming.

Why had her personal guard not yet reacted to the commotion? "Ricca! Marrek! Valerius! Granwen! Fighting in the streets!"

At her shout, her men-at-arms appeared slowly at her side, rubbing sleep out of their eyes with one hand, swords in the other. And still there had not been any warning horns.

"Forgive me, Lady, I noticed nothing," Marrek said.

"The queen is right," Granwen said. "I hear fighting now too."

"Make ready," Yseult ordered. "As soon as I have finished dressing, we must go find out what's the matter."

"You too, Lady?" Ricca said.

"Yes," Yseult said. "I might be needed."

Yseult turned towards her chambers just as Brangwyn and Sevi rushed into the atrium.

"Yseult! What's going on?" Brangwyn said.

"I heard something," she replied. "I'm going with my men to discover what's amiss."

"Be careful, Lady," Sevi said.

"Do you want me to come along?" Brangwyn asked.

Yseult shook her head. "Watch over Riona for me, please. And get her away safely if necessary."

After she returned with a light cloak, Yseult and her men hurried from the townhouse. Out here, the sound of fighting was more audible, and they ran through the dark streets in the direction of the trouble. It was as she'd feared — it was somewhere near the principia.

Where Ginevra lived.

They turned the corner onto the Via Principalis to find a small-scale battle in the streets of the city, a battle of Briton against Briton for the possession of the Queen of Cerniw. Arthur's wife was peering through the curtains of a wagon, her expression anxious, while Medraut and his men fought Gareth and a handful of warriors, perhaps half as many as Medraut had at his command. Not enough.

"Stay here, Lady!" Ricca commanded over the sounds of clashing swords and shields. "Marrek, you remain with the queen!"

Yseult watched her men join the fray, trying to think what she could do to help. Her power of calling — what if she sent a message to Ginevra to try and persuade her to break off her flight? She had no idea if it would work, but if she could formulate the call in such a way that Ginevra believed she was having second thoughts, perhaps this battle could be stopped. She concentrated on the pale face of the Queen of Cerniw.

This is wrong, so wrong. What if some of these men die?

She saw Ginevra clap a hand to her mouth. It looked as if her message was getting through.

Can you live with that for the rest of your life?

Despite the reinforcements from Yseult's men, there was a surge forward among the blue-clad warriors fighting for Medraut, a deliberate move in the direction of the south-western gate. Yseult assumed there was someone waiting outside the walls with mounts for the men; they would not have wanted to call attention to themselves with two dozen horses' hooves clattering over the cobblestones in the middle of the night.

Call a halt; it's not too late. You don't want to go through with this
.

Unfortunately, with so many people, most fighting for their lives, Yseult could not open her mind and try to discover what Ginevra was feeling — the amassed warrior rage would drown her out.

Think of Lyonors; think of the wives of the other men fighting here. Who will you still be able to call friend if any of their husbands die in these streets tonight?

Ginevra's pale face disappeared into the darkness of the wagon, and Yseult knew she had lost. That was always Ginevra's way: if she didn't see it, it wasn't real.

Powerless, Yseult watched Medraut's men push forward. Where were the rest of the forces left for the defense of Caer Leon? And then she smelled the smoke; Medraut must have set a fire somewhere near the barracks as a distraction while he fled with his lover. Or his prize.

One of Gareth's men fell and then another, and then Medraut and Gareth were fighting one-on-one. Yseult used her power of calling to try to reach some of the men fighting the fire, but she was afraid they would be too late.

The soldier beside Gareth took a sword thrust to the throat. Screaming, he dropped to his knees, his hands stuffed into the wound to try to stop the bleeding. Yseult clenched her own hands at her sides, wishing she could go to help.

The warrior who'd dealt the blow turned on Gareth, and now Gawain's youngest brother was fighting against two at once.

Marrek put a hand on her elbow, holding her back; she must have taken a step forward without thinking. "No, lady," he said. "You would only get in the way."

He was right. Illusion, she could create an illusion. She conjured up the image of one fighting man and then another, ghosts jumping out from side streets and between houses. One of the men fighting Gareth turned to this new threat, blocking a sword thrust — and almost stumbled when there was no clash of steel as he expected. He automatically blocked the next attack with his shield, but when once again there was no impact from the illusory sword, he turned away from the little Yseult had been able to do and resumed the uneven fight with Gareth.

Yseult let out a sob of frustration. Was there nothing else she could do?

While she considered, Gareth's attackers pressed in on him, their blows coming faster. He was obviously tiring. She looked around for Ricca, Granwen, and Valerius, but Medraut's warriors were three deep between them and Gareth. Gawain's little brother warded off one thrust with his shield and another with his sword, but then Medraut twisted Gareth's sword down, bringing his shield around and aiming it at his opponent's head. Despite his helmet, the strength of the blow sent Gareth reeling. Medraut followed up with a thrust to the groin below the hem of Gareth's mail shirt.