Part 12 (1/2)

She took her leave while Urien was still speaking to the young man and returned to her troop. They had been awakened and were sleepily devouring their stew and bread. Over food, she laid out what was to be expected of them, while they listened thoughtfully. Although this seemed a fine battle plan to her, she half expected that there would be some discussion, if not objection, but there was nothing of the sort.

”Clever,” said Owain after a long silence.

”Aye, but not too clever.” Peder came to sit down to join them. Gwen made s.p.a.ce for him beside her on a log. He accepted a bowl of stew from her servant. ”If the High King and the Merlin have a fault, it's the making of plans that are a bit too clever, so no one understands what's to happen but them. I like this Lancelin.”

”Come to steal our food again, old man?” asked Meical with a laugh.

”Aye.” Peder cuffed him; or rather, cuffed at him. Meical ducked out of the way. ”I'll not poison myself before a battle with my own cooking.”

”Arthur's Companions do the same,” said Aeron suddenly.

”What, poison themselves?” The others laughed, and Aeron wrinkled up his nose.

”No fools, have a common store and a common cook pot. Like we do. No man starves because he didn't want to burden himself, no man carries too much. Food is always waiting, and they never go into a battle or to bed hungry.”

”Another Roman thing?” Owain asked, curiously.

Aeron shook his dark head. ”Nay. This was Arthur's idea.”

Gwen ate another bite of stew. Someone must have been hunting, for there was rabbit and maybe some duck in this along with the usual dried mutton, turnips, parsnips, and pease. ”The Romans did as we do, except that there was a grain wagon a man got his bread ration from,” she offered. ”I can see the advantage, but what happens when the enemy fires your provision wagon or carries it off? And it would slow you down.”

”No slower than foot soldiers,” Peder pointed out.

”True.” She savored the smoky taste of the broth, but she wished for a little thyme. ”Something to think about.”

When the men had finished, and Peder had wandered back to his own tent, she sat beside the fire, thinking. There was enough afternoon sun on her back to warm her; between the fire and the sunlight, she was, for once, nicely warm. So Arthur was not so grief-stricken that he had not filled his bed again . . . that was interesting. She could not imagine her father doing the same . . . . . . unless . . .

She scratched the back of her head, absently, staring into the fire. There might have been more to this than just a man not wanting a cold bed, and a woman willing to sleep her way to a crown. Anna Morgause was not the only woman in the world to employ the magics of glamorie. glamorie.

But this Gwenhwyfar is a follower of the White Christ! Don't they shun magic?

Maybe. But Anna Morgause had-supposedly-been one of the Ladies. And the Ladies would not have approved of what Gwen had seen in her vision. You did not use Gift of the G.o.ddess to lure a man that was not yours to your bed. You did not steal the magic meant for the High King and his Queen to put a babe in your own loins so you could use him later as a tool to manipulate the High King himself.

She had no doubt that was what Anna Morgause had intended for Medraut.

She brooded into the flames, listening with half her attention to the buzz of the camp life about her, and tried to think this through, as the daughter of a king should do.

The priests of the White Christ had been angling at the High King for a very long time. His father, Uther, had toyed with them, although he had not actually committed to their faith; but he had given them shelter and leave to build their churches. Even one very near to the Isle of Gla.s.s, where the Ladies taught.

It was hard to imagine these men and what they were trying to do. She had never actually met one. The notion of converting a man to another spiritual path was foreign, even a little alien to Gwen, but it was one of the chief pursuits of these people, it seemed. So much so that it appeared they would do almost anything to bring a man into their ranks.

So maybe they allow-or forgive-magic, if it brings them another man. And if that man were the High King?

Probably anything short of murder would be forgiven.

Well, the High King was far away. And he would never repudiate the Merlin, nor would he do anything to drive away his allies, who were not Christ-men. Glamorie Glamorie could do only so much; it would not turn a man against a friend or make a friend out of an enemy. The most that this Gwenhwyfar could accomplish would be to grant the Christ priests more tolerance, to put their rites on equal footing, at least at court, with the Old Ways. Probably. could do only so much; it would not turn a man against a friend or make a friend out of an enemy. The most that this Gwenhwyfar could accomplish would be to grant the Christ priests more tolerance, to put their rites on equal footing, at least at court, with the Old Ways. Probably.

Gwen considered what others had said about these men, these priests, how they pushed themselves and their G.o.d forward. Was it possible that Arthur would neglect the Old Ways in favor of the ones his queen followed, if he were infatuated enough?

Well. Yes. Anything is possible. After all, the G.o.ds had done nothing to preserve his sons. He might even be persuaded that his sons had died After all, the G.o.ds had done nothing to preserve his sons. He might even be persuaded that his sons had died because because he did not favor this new G.o.d. he did not favor this new G.o.d.

She made a face at the fire.

Well, the High King was not here. And by his own decree, the customs of a kingdom held of him were to continue. She was certain that he would not dare to offend his allies by demanding that they give over their rites and G.o.ds and take up with this new one. If he did, he would soon find himself without allies altogether.

Fine. Let the Christ-men have him. The Romans brought their emperor and their Mithras, and look where they are now! Tumbled in the dust.

Then something else occurred to her. Medraut was still on his way to the court, fully expecting to find a distraught Arthur who would welcome this unlooked-for, undreamed of son- -this son of his own half-sister- Oh, that will put the cat among the pigeons.

Even among the followers of the Old Ways, people would look a little askance at that. They would accept it, if Arthur did, and find excuses for him. Tell themselves he could not have known Anna Morgause was his half-sister. Or that he was under her spell so deeply that he did not know who she was. Those things might even be true. But still . . . there would be some looks askance, and if harvests were bad, or winters long, people would ask themselves if this was the fault of the High King's dalliance.

But Medraut would not find a father in mourning and an empty throne. He would find a father infatuated with a new love, a queen who looked to supply him with more heirs, and one who followed the Christ to boot, whose priests most certainly would not not look kindly on the love child not only conceived out of wedding bonds, not only sired on a Lady-trained sorceress and a follower of the G.o.ddess, not only begotten on someone else's wife, but the love child of a man and his half-sister. look kindly on the love child not only conceived out of wedding bonds, not only sired on a Lady-trained sorceress and a follower of the G.o.ddess, not only begotten on someone else's wife, but the love child of a man and his half-sister.

She almost laughed aloud to think of it.

Arthur certainly could not acknowledge Medraut now, even if he was not beglamored, even if he was not inclining to these new priests. How could he? He had a queen with whom he expected to produce true heirs. The last thing he wanted was to set up a rival to them.

The new queen was hardly going to welcome him, either. He would always be a rival to her own children. And if this same queen actually was given Gifts and the use of magic . . .

I think they will eat each other alive.

She went to her bed, chuckling at the thought.

Chapter Fourteen.

If Lancelin had not been so modest and self-effacing away from the war table, Gwen would have been hard put to restrain her jealousy of his instant prominence among the war chiefs. He had overleaped her and the position she had spent seasons, not been so modest and self-effacing away from the war table, Gwen would have been hard put to restrain her jealousy of his instant prominence among the war chiefs. He had overleaped her and the position she had spent seasons, years, years, achieving, and he had done so overnight. achieving, and he had done so overnight.

But he was, in fact, a quiet and astonis.h.i.+ngly modest man outside of the tent, and when she was honest with herself, she had to acknowledge that he he must have spent just as long a period among Arthur's Companions to get that same position. So jealousy was not what she was really feeling. It was envy. And she had to admit that he was a genius at strategy. must have spent just as long a period among Arthur's Companions to get that same position. So jealousy was not what she was really feeling. It was envy. And she had to admit that he was a genius at strategy.

Every man in the oddly a.s.sorted army fielded by her father was perfectly placed to take advantage of his strengths-or, at the very least, to take advantage of what he would would do no matter what had been planned. do no matter what had been planned.

Those who were going to charge no matter the orders had been put in the front lines of the flanks, so at least when they charged, it would be across the hill rather than down it. After that initial planning session, Lancelin had made a round of the fires, using charm, honesty, or, occasionally, a skin of strong mead to find out what each commander knew of his mens' behavior in battle and what he thought the others would do. Then he had revised his plans to account for what he learned.

When he spoke to Gwen, it had been with respect and honesty. She and her scouts-for the scouts had seen much more of how the others fought-answered him with the same frank candor. The result was that their disposition remained the same: to sting the Saxons until they charged, then hold back and harry the outliers, watching for an effort to flank.

She sat her horse easily, looking down the shallow slope to the Saxon army spread out in their rough battle line at the bottom.

There was a great deal of noise: challenges being shouted on both sides, weapons beaten on s.h.i.+elds, insults, catcalls. It didn't matter that most of them didn't understand each other's language; the tone made the content clear enough. And if they had been fighting with traditional tactics, eventually one man or another would break from the lines, run forward, and throw a spear into the enemy nearest him. Unless he was extraordinarily strong or lucky, the spear would glance off the s.h.i.+eld, fall short, break, or bury itself in the wooden s.h.i.+eld. Then the man attacked would wrench it out, pick it up or take his own spear, run forward, and return the favor. Then the two would fight, one on one, while the rest of the armies cheered them on. The victor would taunt the enemy, return to his own lines, or remain for someone else to challenge him. Perhaps another fighter from his own side would join him. This would continue, with the number of single combats increasing until the tension broke and one side or the other would charge.

Of course, that was not going to happen here. Gwen would have thought that by this time the Saxons would have realized, the moment they saw forces forming the Square, that they were facing another force using the High King's Roman tactics.

Perhaps they think it is a ruse. Or perhaps they are confident that this this time they can induce us to fight their sort of battle. time they can induce us to fight their sort of battle.

The noise was making her horse dance and fidget in place; if this had been summer, she would have soothed him to keep him from wearing himself out. But it was winter, not summer, and all the prancing and stamping was keeping his muscles warm. This was all to the good.

She watched her men out of the corner of her eye. Their horses were as restive as hers, and they sat them as easily. They looked calm. She hoped she did. This would be her first major battle, the first where the armies of more than her father had joined together to face the foe.