Shadow of Stone (The Pendragon Chronicles) (64 page)

That was naive even for Ginevra, and Yseult probed her mind, trying to see if she had begun now to participate in Medraut's duplicity. But there was no deceit there — she truly was credulous enough to think that Yseult could come to her in friendship after all that had befallen.

Yseult shook her head. "Have you forgotten that Medraut holds my husband hostage?"

Ginevra looked away, embarrassed, while her restive mare began to dance a little to the side. "Cador is not a hostage," she said as she reined her mount tighter. "He eats with us every night in the great hall."

"But you could not exactly call it a voluntary visit."

Ginevra remained silent.

Yseult glanced across the moor, sending her awareness farther, trying to detect a trap. She found nothing suspicious. Around her, the horses snorted gently, occasionally snapping their tails to keep away the flies. With the constant breeze from the sea, that was not as much of a problem as it might have been in high summer. Even with the midday sun warm on her shoulders, Yseult was not hot.

"Does Medraut agree to our conditions?" Yseult asked, getting down to business. "As I do not see Melehan or Cador, I assume you are here to negotiate for your new consort?"

Gawain had suggested they ask for Medraut's older son as a hostage for Medraut's good behavior as long as Yseult remained in Celliwig.
What if the baby Melou recovered without Yseult's help?
he gave them to consider. It was a good point, and Yseult had to admit her chance of survival in Medraut's hands would be much higher with Melehan in Dyn Tagell.

"Medraut does not want to hand over his oldest son," Ginevra said, unshed tears lurking in the rough edges of her voice.

Then Yseult understood; Medraut was trying to use the naivety of the queen in order to manipulate them — in particular Yseult.
Of course
he did not want to give up his firstborn son, even to save his second, but negotiations demanded sacrifices. Medraut was hoping Yseult would feel sympathy for Ginevra's plight — and that was why he had sent Ginevra and her tears out to meet their party.

Unfortunately for Medraut, his plan was miscarrying badly. Instead of sympathy, Yseult felt impatience. It had been nearly two decades since Ginevra had married Arthur and become a part of the political life of Britain. Time enough and more to learn that motives were not always dictated by the heart, that for many people power was just as heady as lust or love. Ignorance of the magnitude Ginevra displayed had to be as much choice as nature; Ginevra did not
want
to learn about politics and the ways of the world, and as a result, she never would.

Yseult drew a deep breath. "Ginevra, you and your new consort hold my husband hostage."

"Not I!"

Finally she could no longer keep her temper in check. "Yes, you. Your claim to innocence is sorely misplaced. You left Caer Leon with Medraut willingly. Your flight resulted in the death of Gareth, loved by all who knew him. And now Medraut claims the kingship of Celliwig, that of
your
father, in order to legitimize calling himself king of Dumnonia; it is your family seat he is using as a base for his war against the rest of us."

"He did not tell me of his plans," Ginevra said, tears flowing openly now. "He said the recruits were to protect us from Arthur, said he'd had word Arthur was on his way to take revenge on me."

"The last news I had, Arthur is still in Gaul."

"Oh."

"And how did he explain taking his army east to burn our villa and lay siege to Dyn Draithou?"

Ginevra wiped her cheeks with one hand, and the mare began dancing again. "I didn't know, Yseult, I swear. He said he was going out to meet Arthur's forces, that Cador was a hostage for my former husband's good behavior."

Yseult watched Ginevra trying to get her mare back under control, any friendship she had ever felt for this woman slowly dying. Ignorance could not be an excuse for all the wrongs in which Ginevra was now complicit. But ignorance it was. "I believe you. But that does not mean we are willing to change our conditions. I cannot put myself into your present consort's power unless he delivers Cador and Melehan to my men."

"I could bring Melou to you!" Ginevra begged Yseult with tear-drenched eyes.

"And then what bargaining power would I have, can you tell me that? I do not like to gamble with the life of an infant, but neither do I care to throw away the life of my husband. You will have to persuade Medraut to do as we ask." She wheeled her gelding around. "We will make camp here. You have until tomorrow to give us your final answer," she threw over her shoulder before she and her men galloped back to their warband.

* * * *

Although it was summer, the morning dawned crisp, patches of fog moving slowly across the landscape. It was barely light when a sentry sent up the alarm that a party of riders was coming out of the fortress gates.

Gawain, Kurvenal, and their men grabbed shields and swords and threw themselves on their mounts. The warband gathered in front of the tents, Yseult at their head, flanked by half-a-dozen warriors. Yseult felt Cador's presence before she recognized his wavy blond-brown hair in the milky morning sunlight. Her hands tightened on the reins of her mount, but she kept her back straight and resisted the urge to spur the gelding forward.

Pain.
It took everything he had to stay on the back of his horse.

Yseult moved her mount closer to Kurvenal. "They are bringing Cador, but he is sore injured. Promise me you will take him to Brangwyn as soon as the exchange of hostages has been carried out. Please."

Kurvenal gave her a sharp glance. "Of course."

"Thank you."

"We will do our best to heal your husband, but you must do your best to come out of Celliwig alive," Kurvenal continued. "My wife would be heartbroken if you did not."

"Be assured, I very much intend to leave here with my life." But of course she could not guarantee it.

The approaching party halted just out of range of the archers. "We come to exchange King Cador for Queen Yseult!" their leader called out.

Yseult urged her gelding a handful of paces forward. "I am ready. Send out Medraut's son Melehan with Cador of Dumnonia."

"Not before you come to us!"

"I will meet them in the middle."

"Yseult, that is dangerous — they may have archers hidden among their ranks," Gawain said behind her.

She twisted around on her gelding. "You have a point, but you forget that Medraut's consort wants me alive." She nodded in the direction of the ramparts of Celliwig, where the tall figure of a woman with golden blond hair could be discerned among the spectators. "Ginevra would not be happy to see me killed through treachery here on the fields north of her ancestral seat. Medraut bases his claims to power on her, and as long as he has no loyal base of power himself, he is dependent on her. And she wants me to heal her son."

"It's all such a mess," Gawain said under his breath.

"What war isn't?"

Yseult turned back to the party that held her husband. Cador's eyes were fixed on her, and his back was straight, despite the pain she had felt. "Send King Cador and Melehan out," she repeated. "Then I will come halfway."

There was some consultation among the enemy leaders, and then Cador rode forward. Yseult drew in a deep breath. The mingled joy and relief at seeing him again was intense beyond imagining, a moment she would never forget.

Cador — her husband, her neglected love.

A dark-haired boy was lifted over to him, and he took the child on his lap. Then he spurred his horse into a gentle trot.

She kicked her heels into her gelding's sides, riding straight towards Cador. Then she heard the warning in his mind:
No, Yseult, turn back! This child is not Melehan! Medraut thought I would not notice; he didn't know that I played with the children on occasion.

Of course. None of Yseult's party knew what the boy looked like. Melehan had been in Armorica with his grandmother and aunt until they fled from the threat of Chlodovech's armies. The boy had only been living with Medraut since he'd eloped with Ginevra.

But she couldn't go back on the exchange now. Cador needed treatment from a healer more experienced than Celliwig had to offer, and her only chance to free her husband was to play this game until he was safely with their men.

It doesn't matter, Cador. You're injured. We must go on with the exchange.

She and Cador met halfway between the two parties of warriors. He held the reins with only one hand, while the other hung limply at his side. The boy had both arms around his waist in order to keep his seat.

"Yseult, what are you doing?" Cador asked. "Without a hostage, who knows what Medraut will do!"

"And if you do not get treatment, who knows what will happen to
you,
" she said simply. "What is the matter with your arm?"

"I was injured at the battle of Dyn Draithou, and the wound seems to be festering. Yseult, you should not be doing this."

She laid a hand on his good forearm. "Yes, I should. I have a better chance of surviving in Celliwig than you do."

"And what of Riona? She needs you."

"Not at the cost of losing a father she has never seen." Yseult examined his face, but whatever emotion she had hoped to find there was overshadowed by the pain he barely held in check — and the worry for her.

She squeezed his forearm and released it. "Humor me, Cador, please. Of the two of us, you are the better war leader. And I am probably the better spy."

Finally he smiled, although the pain still had not left his eyes. "Yes, you are so subtle."

"Well, I admit, that is not one of my strong points. But I can read minds. And I can send messages without a messenger."

He shrugged, still smiling. "You're right, those are not among my particular talents." Then his expression clouded again. "Still, I do not want to see you in Medraut's power."

"I will not reveal that I know the trick Medraut played, and for a time at least I will be in little danger. Not only do they want me to heal their son, Ginevra still regards me as a friend."

"But for how long? She is impressionable and more Medraut's creature every day."

That was not good news, but it made it even more important that Yseult go to Celliwig.

"It is time for the exchange of hostages to be completed!" came an impatient call from the enemy party. There was so much more Yseult longed to say, but in the middle of a field between two bands of warriors was not the place for it, especially when he was in so much pain his eyes were squinting with it.

She leaned forward and gave him the kiss of peace. "Take care of yourself, my husband. Recover. There is much I still need to tell you, but this is not the place."

With his good hand, he caught the back of her head and leaned his forehead on hers. "And much I need to tell you. Stay safe, Yseult. Please do not take any more risks."

She pulled back, although she wished she could take his face in her hands and kiss the pain away. "Believe me, I will do everything in my power to return to you and Riona."

"Thank you. Farewell, Yseult."

"Farewell."

With that, Yseult rode south to Celliwig and the party that waited in front of the hill-fort, while Cador rode north to the friends and allies his wife had left behind.

* * * *

They did not lock her away in Celliwig, but every time she left her room in the "guest house," an armed escort of four men accompanied her. Every time she went anywhere near the ramparts, more armed men joined her. Her gelding was kept in the pen with Medraut's horses, and she was assured that he was being cared for — but she was not allowed to see him.

She read her guards' minds easily enough and knew that if she tried to escape, Medraut would have her killed despite Ginevra's wish she be kept alive. They would come up with some kind of an excuse for her death.

Not only that, at soon as Melou was declared healed, Yseult was to be gotten rid of.

Yseult wasn't even sure how long Ginevra would still want to save her, given how little success she'd had with the baby boy. Yseult could not even claim it was entirely self-preservation — after three days in Celliwig, she did not understand what ailed him.

As she entered the great hall, her guards behind her, she could hear the infant crying — again. Ginevra held him in her lap, the neck of her gown gaping a bit; it looked as if she had been trying to nurse him. Ginevra was rocking Melou listlessly, but she looked up as Yseult came forward.

"Do you think Melou's sickness is my punishment for living in sin with Medraut?" Ginevra asked.

Yseult shrugged. "Would your god punish a baby for his mother's sins?"

"I don't know. But I feel as if I am being punished."

"Should I take him?"

Ginevra handed her the infant, who stopped his crying briefly to give a series of weak, hacking coughs, followed by wheezing. Once he caught his breath, he took up his crying again. Yseult put him on her shoulder and patted his back while he continued to cry.