Shadow of Stone (The Pendragon Chronicles) (5 page)

Their horses were being brought into the yard when Cador and his mother Enid joined them. Enid indicated their saddlebags. "I had some bread and cheese and beer packed for you."

Gawain bowed. "Thank you, Lady." He turned to Cador. "Thank you for your hospitality. We will make much better progress today after a good night's sleep."

"You're always welcome, you know that."

"We appreciate it." Gawain glanced once more around the yard; still no sign of Yseult.

He stepped up on the mounting block, grabbed one of the front pommels, and swung himself on the back of the chestnut stallion. "Good bye and thank you again. I'll see you in Caer Leon."

"Until then!"

When all of his men were mounted and ready, Gawain rode out of the yard without a backward glance.

* * * *

Yseult watched from the shadow of the porch abutting the entrance hall as Gawain and his party of warriors rode away. She had been tempted to come forward, but it wouldn't do. Gawain was becoming much too insistent. She had hoped that several months apart would allow him to gain some distance, but that had not been the case; he was still talking of marriage. She drew her shawl tighter around her shoulders, suddenly cold. Why did the thought of marriage affect her in such an illogical way? This panic, this wasn't her — she had to get it under control,
would
get it under control.

She turned away and hurried back through the entrance hall to her room before anyone discovered her presence.

* * * *

The weather held, and Gawain and his men arrived in Calleva well before dark the next day. In the wars against the Saxons over ten years ago, Calleva had never suffered any serious threat, although it was barely fifty miles to the border of the Saxon kingdom of Ceint, and even less to the southern coast where Arthur had once fought beside Natanleod against the invaders.

And now Natanleod's son was sleeping with the enemy, the daughter of the traitor Cerdic.

After identifying themselves, they entered the southwest gate of the city and made their way to Natanleod's townhouse nestled against the southern wall. Although it was within the city, it was nearly as large as Cador's villa outside of Lindinis.

When they cantered into the courtyard, Natanleod himself came out to greet them, flanked by his son and daughter-in-law. Doing his best to ignore the half-Saxon princess, Gawain concentrated on the king of Calleva, surprised at how much gray now laced Natanleod's once-dark locks. Had it been that long since they had last seen each other?

They dismounted, and Natanleod hurried forward. "Gawain! This is quite a surprise. But given the speed with which you were riding, I assume the news is not good."

"Attacks on the northern coast of Dumnonia," Gawain said shortly.

"Not just skirmishes?"

Gawain shook his head. "The sons of Caw are leading an alliance of Picts and warriors from Ystrad Clud."

"Bad news indeed. Come inside and we can discuss the situation over supper. You know my son Edern? And this is his wife Nerienda."

They all shook hands, and Gawain and his men followed Natanleod into the townhouse. Natanleod's staff put together a pleasant meal for the unexpected guests, smoked meats and winter vegetables seasoned with lovage, coriander, and imported garum. Between bites, Gawain explained about the beacon at the Mount of Frogs being taken, the reason Calleva had not been warned earlier, and how Arthur was raising a larger army to fight back the invasion from the north.

Natanleod's expression was serious as he contemplated the wine in his glass. "Caer Custoeint and the Mount of Frogs are far from here. I fail to see what Arthur could want from me."

Gawain stared at him, momentarily speechless. Had it been the alliance with Cerdic that had corrupted Natanleod — or had it just been too many years of peace? "But Britain is under attack."

"Britain? What is Britain? It is nothing more than a huge island with a multitude of tribes and kings. I happen to be king of the Atrebates.
Those
are my people, the ones I need to defend and protect."

Gawain choked down a bite of pork that had been seasoned with a bit too much garum; he imagined he could taste the fish guts in their unfermented state, and he coughed into his fist to hide the brief bout of nausea.

His eyes still watering, he faced Natanleod. "When the main port of 'your people', was under attack, Arthur did not hesitate to come to your aid." Gawain knew his response sounded short-tempered, but Natanleod had caught him off-guard. Despite the southern king's familial connection with the traitor Cerdic, it never would have occurred to Gawain that he would refuse to do his duty to Britain.

"That was different," Natanleod said.

"How was that different? Because
your
territory was under attack?"

"In those days, Britain as a whole was threatened. That is not the case here. It may be more than a skirmish, but it looks to me like a regional conflict."

"In the wars against the Saxons," Gawain shot a glance at Cerdic's daughter Nerienda, "there
were
no regional conflicts. That is what made us strong. It was with a united army as
Britain
that we were able to defeat the Saxons all those years ago and keep them from reaching Venta or Calleva. Not as Dumnonians or Atrebates."

"There's no need to look at me like that," Nerienda said mildly. "I may be half-Saxon, but I am also half-British."

Yes, and your British father is a traitor.

Gawain set down his wine glass and rose. "May I speak with you alone for a moment, Natanleod?"

The southern king nodded and rose as well. Gawain followed him out of the dining hall and through the portico to the inner courtyard. They walked together along the garden pathway.

"As a former comrade-in-arms," Gawain began. "Tell me honestly why are you refusing to aid in the defense of Britain."

"It is just as I told you in the dining hall," Natanleod said. "You think it is because Cerdic is now father-in-law to my son?"

"How can I not think that? Arthur's victories have given you a dozen years of peace, and now you no longer think it necessary to contribute to the defense of Britain when one of its kingdoms is threatened?"

Natanleod stopped and faced Gawain, laying a hand on his upper arm. "It has nothing to do with my son's marriage. Nerienda would not have been my choice for Edern, but they ran away together and found a Christian priest to marry them. There was little I could do."

"Is that why the traitor Cerdic is once again in charge of the defense of Venta?"

Natanleod removed his hand. "The actions of the 'traitor Cerdic,' as you call him, were over a dozen years ago. He has long since regretted his decision."

"Because he was on the losing side," Gawain muttered.

"You may think what you like, but Cerdic of Vectis has been a staunch ally to us in recent years, has helped us negotiate in border disputes with the neighboring kings of Ceint."

Gawain could still remember waiting for reinforcements before the battle of Caer Baddon when they were so hopelessly outnumbered. But the only reinforcements from the south had been under the command of the youthful King Cador, while Cerdic had been the first
enemy
they faced, a man who had once been Count of the Saxon Shore, one of Arthur's generals. But twelve years was a long time: too long for some people to remember Cerdic's betrayal at the battle of Caer Baddon.

He drew in a deep breath. A scent of molten metal lingered in the night air from the many metalsmith shops of the city. "I'm sorry, Natanleod, but it's not long enough for me to forget. Too many men died at Caer Baddon. Cerdic had a hand in that."

The king of the Atrebates sat down on a stone bench and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "And what of you? Your father fought against Arthur at Din Eidyn. Does that not make your loyalty suspect?"

Gawain clenched his hands at his sides. Natanleod knew better than that, knew that Gawain and his brothers — Gareth and Gaheris at least — had stood with Arthur even though it had cost them their patrimony.

Natanleod didn't really doubt his loyalty; he was just trying to provoke him to make a point. It had worked, but Gawain wasn't about to accept his conclusions.

He uncurled his fists and flexed his fingers. "Arthur does not believe in guilt by association or blood. I have never betrayed him, as Cerdic has."

"Nonetheless, it would be wise of Arthur not to ignore Cerdic. He could be a valuable middleman between the British and the Saxon kings."

"Believe me, Arthur does not ignore him." Truth be told, Arthur tried to keep himself as well informed as possible where Cerdic was concerned. Luckily, Cerdic's Saxon allies had been decimated in the Battle of Caer Baddon, and Saxon memories were long. The Saxons appeared content to remain in Ceint. But Arthur — and Gawain too — was convinced Cerdic would march against the rest of Britain again as soon as he saw the opportunity.

"But Arthur refuses to speak with Cerdic," Natanleod pointed out.

"There you have the right of it." Frustrated, Gawain held out his hand, and Natanleod rose and took it. He should probably try harder to convince the king of the Atrebates to send troops to Caer Leon, but he knew it would be a waste of time. "We will be on our way again in the morning and will not bother you further. We were not aware that the Atrebates no longer regarded themselves as part of Britain."

Natanleod shook his hand, shrugging. "There is no longer any such thing as Britain, Gawain, not really. We all have to look out for ourselves now."

Yes, just as Cerdic is doing
. He would bet his best horse that Cerdic had set his sights on Nataleod's kingdom. He wondered if the girl Nerienda was an innocent pawn in Cerdic's grasp for power or if she was in on whatever plans her father was hatching. At supper, she had seemed sincere enough in her attachment to her husband, but she might also be good at dissembling.

"So you say," Gawain said, impatient to leave. "But Arthur's philosophy has always been that the kings of Britain are stronger together than apart."

"For a campaign affecting more than one province, I would tend to agree with you. But look at it from my point of view, Gawain. I have a long border with the Saxon kingdom of Ceint. If it became known that I had depleted my armies for a war in the west, it would not take long for the Saxon leaders to forget the uneasy peace we have struck and take advantage of the situation."

"Yes, I see," Gawain said, no longer protesting. Arthur had not asked Natanleod to deplete his armies, only contribute whatever he could to the defense of Britain.

Which he had refused.

Gawain hoped this wasn't a sign of how the rest of his trip would go.

* * * *

Gentle rain was falling as Cador rode into the yard after inspecting the troops. It was not a good day for traveling, but this time of year it made no sense to wait for the weather to turn. Besides, the sooner they threw the enemy out the better. It had been almost a week since Gawain brought the news of attacks along the Dumnonian coast; preparations had been made and it was time to join Arthur.

At least it wasn't a downpour. They would be on paved Roman roads most of the way. There was no danger of swamps masquerading as pathways slowing them down, even if the rain did get worse.

He glimpsed Yseult in the yard on the back of a white mare and rode over to her. "Good morning, Yseult."

"It could be better."

"True enough." Somehow, she did not seem as affected by the rain as he was; it was almost as if the damp gave her skin a moon-like glow. Cador suppressed a sigh. Yes, there was no avoiding it — he
was
still in love with her, after all these years. He barely remembered when the feelings had begun, but it had been even before the battle of Caer Baddon, that much he knew; a combination of his burgeoning adolescent desires and the knowledge that she was not happy in her marriage with his foster father Marcus. Of course it hadn't hurt that she was the most dramatically beautiful woman he had ever seen, with her white-blond tresses, ice-blue eyes, and tall, proud figure.

"Have you reconsidered my offer?" he asked.

"There's no need."

Cador wiped the damp from his brow, shook some of the moisture out of his hair, and tried to rein in his impatient mount to face her. "Please, take the additional troops. There are over two centuries camped outside Lindinis. We can easily spare fifty men."

He saw Yseult gazing at his prancing stallion from the back of her perfectly behaved white mare, a small smile playing around her lips. Perhaps he should have chosen the gelding. But no — his warhorse Wyllt was what he needed, and he would just have to deal with the consequences, even if it included looking silly in front of the woman he'd only recently realized he still loved.

"I thank you for your offer," Yseult said. "But my answer is still 'no.' Arthur needs every man to retake the Mount of Frogs. I will be in no danger." She glanced down to his stallion's hooves and then back up to his face, raising her eyebrows. "Perhaps you should invest in a more obedient mount, such as a docile gelding?"