"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 sat 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."