The Winter Prince Read online

  “Nothing so useful as your work,” Goewin answered.

  “Lleu has been repairing the mosaics,” I said, running my hands over the cooling gate. It felt even more beautiful to touch than it was to see, rougher and more textured than a knife blade, but not harsh.

  “You need to learn a trade,” Marcus said to Lleu solemnly, and Goewin and Gofan laughed.

  Lleu said with cold dignity, “I am learning to use a sword.”

  “That’s right,” Gofan said in his deep voice, a gentle counter to the well-intentioned insolence of his pupil. “You need to be skilled in what’s expected of you. How old are you—fifteen? If you were not the high king’s son you would be apprenticed by now, or starting to be. But you aren’t expected to learn a craft beyond the soldiery and husbandry you are already being taught. Your art and skill must lie in leadership.”

  Goewin said, straightfaced, “But is leadership something that can be taught ?”

  “I’ll always have people like you about to make sure what I want will be done,” Lleu said comfortably.

  The iron under my hands steadied me; minutes ago it had been crimson with heat, molten, but was no longer.

  “I won’t pave your floors,” Marcus said.

  “Oh many thanks, my loyal servant,” Lleu said, folding his arms. “I wouldn’t ask it of you.”

  “This gate we are making is no more necessary and serves no greater purpose than the mosaic he has been mending,” Gofan corrected his apprentice. “I am doing this because I enjoy the work; and Medraut enjoys watching us, and when the gate is finished others will enjoy seeing it and using it. Someone put as much pride and thought into the villa’s tiled floor, and Lleu is doing an honorable thing in preserving that creation.”

  As though he felt it was his duty to undercut his master’s point, Marcus said, “Do you know what is happening in the lower mines right now?”

  I looked up from the smooth metal.

  “What is happening?” Goewin asked.

  Marcus, having introduced the subject, apparently felt he had said as much as was required of him. After he had rested in self-satisfied silence for a moment or two, I explained, “There’s been so much rain that the lowest level is flooded. The bedrock stops the water from sinking into the ground, and we have to keep emptying water out.”

  Lleu began, “I could be—”

  “You couldn’t be,” Goewin told him. “You could never be a miner—no more than you could be a plowman or a weaver.”

  “What can I be?”

  All arrogance crushed, Lleu slid from the sill where he was sitting and stepped into the muddy, sunlit yard to look at the sky. I followed him and stood next to him, looking not at the sky but at the bare red Edge and the black leafless trees that lined it. “Medraut, you belong here,” Lleu said.

  Imagine my surprise. I answered gently, “You were born here.”

  “But I don’t belong. Even if I owned it all—you know your way through the mines, over the moors. How? I barely know my w Celyx20ay across the Edge.”

  “Nonsense,” I said. “You are learning. You recognize the malachite we mine for copper, and you know we use it to make bronze; you use it in the mosaics in another way.”

  Lleu considered the low, quick-scudding clouds, listening but apparently nonchalant. “I wish I had made those mosaics,” he said. “I know they aren’t perfect; you can see the mistakes, the wrong colors in places, uneven lines in the borders. But who does such work anymore, now that the Romans are gone? I wish I could see the pattern books they used. And the work of other artists, and other kinds of artistry. I wish I had seen the paintings that were on the walls before Father rebuilt the house.”

  I was both amused and curiously saddened by his outburst. “You will have to travel,” I said lightly. “In Byzantium there are mosaics and frescoes to fill your thirsty heart brim full. Today content yourself with Gofan’s iron gates.”

  “I would, but Marcus makes me feel an idiot. ‘You need to learn a trade’!” he mimicked with some fire.

  I laughed. “You are neither an engineer nor a warrior like your father, but you have your own artistry. In time you’ll dance circles around an argument, just as now you turn aside your opponent’s blade.”

  He did not answer, but he thought on it. Then he turned and went back inside. I stood alone in the dooryard, half smiling to think how absurd this was, that I should be working to convince Lleu of his worth.

  So the year was gone. In the spring Artos made Lleu the heir to his kingdom, naming him prince of Britain. In a year Lleu had changed from a weakling child to a matchless swordsman, the moth hatched from the worm at last; I must be dull in his shadow, shotten, mean. I had come here sick with the power I had known in the Orcades as your counselor and aide and executioner, and I ought now to be content with my newfound quiet authority. Lleu’s own triumph should not matter. But it did matter. Standing in the Lesser Hall among the high king’s Comrades with Goewin at my side, waiting at first light in tense silence for the meeting to begin—it mattered; though outwardly I was all serene control, shut and screened behind my eyes. And Goewin shored me. She and Ginevra were the only women present, but since Ginevra stood at her husband’s side as his queen, Goewin was alone. She seemed shorter than she was, dwarfed by Caius the steward at her right hand. Nothing softened her hard expression.

  Lleu confronted the assembled crowd white-faced, but appearing strangely elegant; he stood slight and straight before his father, dressed simply and bearing no arms, his dark hair clipped short in the old style of a Roman soldier. He listened gravely as the high king informed him of the duties that were to be expected of him. Then Ginevra armed him, as had his namesake’s mother, binding to his side a real sword; and at last the king presented his youngest child, his heir, to the strong, watchful company of his Comrades. Lleu bowed to us and pledged us his loyalty and service, and one by one we pledged ourselves to him. As my turn finished, Caius began to speak, passing over Goewin. I reached across her and silenced him gently with a gesture, and said only, “Princess?”

  Repeating the words that I had used, she too pledged her loyalty to her twin: “Lleu son of Artos, my prince and brother, I swear to you my life and my allegiance.”

  Lleu watched her with sympathetic eyes, and let his solemn lips twitch into a smile before her turn passed. At my side, unnoticed by anyone else Cy asym, Goewin slipped her cool fingers into my hand and pressed it gratefully.

  After the pledges were finished Artos crowned his son with a thin fillet of gold and declared him prince of Britain.

  When the ceremony was over Goewin hid herself, disappearing as quietly and completely as this season’s infant bats asleep in the box hung under the eaves. I found her in the dark end of the porch, where the old, disused masonry and broken columns lie piled out of the way, waiting patiently for the rest of the villa to catch up to them in decay. Goewin huddled against the far wall behind the last pillars, sobbing passionately. Embarrassed and ashamed to see me, she hid her face in the hem of her smock and mumbled incoherently, “The Romans have gone from Britain forever.”

  I said gently, “Goewin. Come here.” I led her out into the garden, and stood with a hand on her shoulder, as I had stood by Lleu not long before. “What do you mean?”

  “Father’s kingdom, this unity, it won’t last—Lleu’s not like him, and even if he were, too much is changing too fast. It can’t last. Father would have me marry Constantine, the son of the king of Dumnonia in the south. It won’t be bad, it’s important, with all the tin mines and fishing towns. But he may as well marry me to one of my cousins and exile me to the Orcades, as he has his sister, because you can be sure I won’t sit by as queen of Dumnonia and watch Britain trickle through Lleu’s fingers. If I have to I’ll take the kingship from him by force.”

  “Princess!” I exclaimed.

  “If you don’t destroy him first,” she finished. “I hate living at the end of things!”

  “Look.” I pointed toward
Elder Field. We gazed across the fields to the trees growing on the Edge, bright green with young leaves. The red stone of the bare cliff was fierce and strong and joyful in the spring sun, and two magpies sa

  t preening themselves on the grass verge before the wall at the bottom of the garden. “There is no end,” I said. “Only the beginning of something else.”

  V

  Sparring

  A MONTH LATER THIS isolate, close-woven world of mine was shattered. That evening the peacocks were calling as I walked home from the Edge, their weird screeches scoring the long summer afternoon, and I was unaware of them. The sound was too familiar, a noise I had long ago learned not to hear. But Ginevra does not keep peacocks. I stepped onto the colonnade to join the family in the Queen’s Garden, where we rested through the late sunsets, and stopped, struck through with a stunned, wintry surprise that felt something like despair. Smiling, you rose and crossed the garden to where I stood, and clasped my hands in greeting.

  I stood trapped, desperate and ridiculous, trying to find the sense in why you were here. Finally I thought of your younger children, King Lot’s children, and remembered that Artos had recently sent for them at my own suggestion to raise in his court. I had not ever considered that you might come with them. While I stood staring hopelessly you echoed my silence: your lean fingers closed firmly around mine, your blank eyes like fields of slate the perfect reflection of my own. Mother and son, flame and shadow, image and opposite—witless I stood before you and let them all see how alike we are.

  At last I said quietly, “Godmother,” and walked down the few s Felyx2ee how ateps into the garden with you.

  Ginevra called to me to sit by her, and I swiftly accepted her invitation; you watched me with amusement and said, “So, my child, you have found your place here just as you left it?”

  Oh, God, they were all staring at me—Lleu at his mother’s feet stopped fiddling with his sandal straps, and your own four boys gazed with unabashed curiosity. Even Goewin watched intently from her perch on one of the low stone ledges, knees drawn up and chin resting on bare arms. And Artos, my father, bored through my patent desolation with ruthless scrutiny. “Very much the same, my lady,” I tried to answer calmly, but my renegade hands clenched and unclenched as though in anger or fear.

  Ginevra said, “It’s good to have him back among us. Lleu owes his life to Medraut’s skill.”

  You smiled and answered, “I am glad,” and turned your smoky gaze on Lleu. He smiled back hesitantly, nervous fingers twitching at the sandal thongs again. My heart surged with jealousy and fear: and all you did was to look at him.

  You sat down again. The boys clustered at your shoulders, uncertain as to what was expected of them. “Sit down, lads,” Ginevra said gently. “Be at ease.”

  Well schooled in how to respond to the queen of Britain, they obediently found places for themselves. Gwalchmei and Gaheris competed with good nature for space on the ledge opposite Goewin; young Gareth sat shyly next to Lleu as though offering tentative friendship. Only Agravain remained standing by your shoulder, his long copper hair so like yours, his mouth set in obstinate, defensive pride. Silently, stubbornly, he insisted on allegiance to you.

  You appear ever serene to unfamiliar eyes. To see you, no one could have guessed you had been traveling for weeks; but you had not been in the garden long, and I realized you had only just then been introduced to the prince and princess. Gazing still at Lleu, you addressed him suddenly: “Lleu son of Artos, Lleu the son of the Dragon, Lleu the young lion; the youngest child of the high king. And luckiest! Bright One, Fair One, and now prince of Britain.”

  At this spate of names and titles Lleu stopped fidgeting and straightened. “My lady? Aunt? Queen Morgause?” he answered boldly.

  “How proud and brave you are”—you smiled—“for one so slight, so young. I would have my children pledge you their loyalty as have the rest of the high king’s Comrades.”

  “There will be time for that,” Ginevra said, with a sharp glance at Artos.

  He finished her thought, ignoring any web you might attempt to weave. “Let them at least speak to each other first.”

  “Have your boys seen the estate yet?” I asked, and when you answered that they had not, I said quickly, “Then let me show them.” For I could not sit at ease with you in the garden.

  The twins came as well, and with your four children we walked over the grounds of the estate. Lleu and Goewin, merely by doing what was expected of them and acting with friendly courtesy, quickly gained the devotion of their two younger cousins; for Gaheris is rarely treated with courtesy, and Gareth is easy to like. Not so with Agravain, the jealous one, the dour one. He is a few years older than Lleu and Goewin, but not, as is Gwalchmei, old or wise enough for the twins to feel they must respect him. So, your four children were subject now to the careless arrogance of the prince of Britain, who could not keep straight the K stm. So, youir names.

  The villa was by that summer restored and intact. The windows were clear and clean, and the, mosaics awash with light even on cloudy days. The drought and famine were as well as forgotten. Here was wealth, and ancient splendor, artistry and perfection. Beneath Gofan’s curious wrought-iron lampstands, the cushions of the low couches in the atrium were bright and luxurious in the sunlight, and the air was fresh with the green scent of the little lemon trees that Ginevra had set about the spacious room. Your children stepped cautiously across the glinting floors, openly admiring. But they too are princes, and even in the Orcades enjoyed a certain degree of luxury; so after we had been through Caius’s well-kept stables, Gwalchmei turned to Lleu as prince to prince and offered, “Would you like to see the animals Mother brought with her? They’re supposed to be gifts for your father.”

  They were caged, of course, for the journey. There were small wildcats and highland deer, a monkey and a remarkable collection of birds. There were hawks and songbirds, and there were peacocks. “These could be let free to roam the grounds,” Gwalchmei said. “If they’re well fed they won’t disturb your gardens, and they can’t fly far.”

  “I’ve never seen a real one,” Goewin said. “Mama has a mosaic of one with its tail spread on the floor of her chamber. Do they spread their tails?”

  “Only when they feel like it,” Agravain said, and Gareth added, “They’re very conceited.”

  “Where did you get them?” Lleu asked.

  “Mother sends for them. She always keeps peacocks,” Gareth explained.

  “They’re beautiful,” Lleu said, his attention fixed on the haughty birds, rapt.

  “Mother will be pleased you like them,” Gaheris ventured.

  Agravain told him, “Mother didn’t bring these for the prince.” All their conversation ever referred back to you.

  They were anxious to test Lleu’s swordsmanship, and over the next week they organized several duels with him. Gwalchmei and I, and sometimes Goewin, would sit on the back wall of the estate as judges, kicking our heels against the dry stone; and on the grass lawn before us Gareth, Gaheris, and Agravain took turns trying to outwit Lleu, and failing. The two younger boys did not seem to mind and enjoyed the challenge and practice. But Agravain was not pleased at being consistently trounced by one younger and slighter than himself.

  It chokes me to think of the day you happened upon us during one of these sessions. Agravain could hardly bear for you to watch, and even Gareth began to feel the derision in your gaze. Finally, resting from his last bout, Gaheris asked Lleu, “Could you take on two of us at once?”

  “All right,” Lleu said.

  “No. Three of us,” Agravain demanded harshly.

  “That’s not fair!” said Goewin.

  “I’ll do it,” Lleu said amiably.

  Only Gareth was dubious. “She’s right.”

  “I’ll take on as many as you like,” Lleu said carelessly, and turned to Agravain to ask, “You do want me beaten, don’t you?”

  “No, my lord,” Agravain said in blushing apology,
caught, while you laughed quietly. “I only thought t Knlylign="o test your skill.”

  “I won’t fight three against one,” Gareth said.

  “Oh, come on,” Lleu coaxed, confident. “It’s only in play.”

  “It’s not fair,” said Gareth.

  Agravain argued, “If it’s all right with Lleu, then it’s fair. If Gareth won’t do it, Gwalchmei can.”

  “I won’t do it, either,” Gwalchmei said mildly. Artos had already made him one of the Comrades; he had no need to prove himself. “You will have to fend for yourselves.”

  “Medraut,” you said suddenly. “You join them.”

  “What do you mean, Godmother?” I asked, chilly.

  “I’d like to see how your skill compares to the prince’s,” you said.

  And I must answer, “He can best me.”

  “Oh, Medraut, join us,” Lleu said. “Just this once. It’s only a game.”

  “Join them,” you said. It was a command.

  I said in a low voice, “Godmother, I would rather not.”

  “Don’t glare so,” you said coolly. “Join them.”

  Helpless as I was before you always, I had no choice but to obey. In fierce silence I took up one of the wooden swords, and with Gaheris and Agravain took my place opposite Lleu.

  He eluded us, foxlike, avoiding and repelling our blows. We might as well try to fight a waterfall. He disarmed Gaheris again and again, and Gaheris admitted defeat when Gwalchmei called out to him, “You’re finished. If it were real swords you’d be dead by now.” And with Gaheris out, Agravain, Lleu, and I were suddenly pitted against one another in earnest, and playing a little desperately.

  But Lleu fought me as though we were the only two people in the world. He dealt with Agravain because he had to, fending off his cousin’s blows as though Agravain were no more annoying than an insect, a trifling interruption. Agravain fought doggedly, retrieving his sword twice from the ground, growing more and more irritable. The third time Agravain’s sword went flying across the grass, Lleu stamped furiously on the wooden hilt so that it splintered and cracked before Agravain could pick it up again. Agravain snatched hold of Lleu’s arm, trying to pull him down with his hands.