The Winter Prince - Page 20/27

"I too," I acknowledged. My throat burned and ached. "Agravain, if you build a fire I’ll heat some wine."

I came inside after the others. The cave was lit by the fire and the lanterns Agravain had set about the floor. I shared out the drink carelessly; Lleu nodded thanks when I filled his horn and did not notice that I had laced his warm wine with nightshade. Words from the rhymers’ pageant suddenly struck through my mind, but twisted:

Into your wine the golden drops

I pour from out the poisoned cup

As deat {quoalih comes to the Winter Prince…

I choked and turned away to strip myself of sodden shirt and jacket, feeling flushed with excitement and fierce determination. Goewin said sharply, "Are you all right, Medraut?"

She had noticed my clenched and shaking hands. I laughed at her over my shoulder, freely, and tried to stretch away the tension in my arms and back. The ceiling was too low for me to stand erect. "It has been a hard day."

"Well, yes," she agreed.

"There’s food in the large satchel, Goewin," I said. "We shouldn’t eat much." I went to stand outside the entrance to the cave, where I did not have to stoop. The sleet had turned to snow. I watched the dark outline of Shivering Mountain disappear as the light faded quickly, until all I could see were the swirling flakes just beyond the firelight.

"God’s sake, Medraut, you’ll kill yourself," Goewin said behind me. "You aren’t even wearing a shirt. Come in."

I ducked below the entrance to join the others and sat across from Lleu. Agravain shared out strips of salted meat and dried fruit.

"It’s snowing, isn’t it?" Lleu asked. His eyes seemed hooded, dark and strange.

"Yes," I told him. "But no fear, Bright One; we’ve food and furs and shelter, and there is little wind." I reached out to push damp strands of his hair off his forehead. His hand moved aimlessly, as though he meant to turn away my touch, but could not connect mind with movement. He was struggling to stay awake. I coughed and turned my face away; I could not bear to watch him.

"Medraut—"

I do not remember which of them spoke my name.

It was Lleu who got to his feet, unsteadily and laboriously, but with a courage and composure that I had not expected of him. He stood before me, but I could not face him upright without striking my head against the ceiling. I did not try to rise.

"Have you drugged me?" Lleu demanded, his voice even, his hands tremorous. "I was not so very weary before we ate!"

"Yes," I whispered without remorse. "I have."

"You promised me!" he cried.

"What did I promise? Do you remember precisely what I said?"

"No!" he answered angrily. "What, then? It was two years ago, and I was half-asleep."

Goewin spoke now in a dull, chill voice, staring at nothing as she accurately repeated the promise I had made. "He said he would never again send you to sleep at any time you might be ill or hurt. You aren’t ill or hurt." She whispered through her teeth: "He keeps his promises."

"But why do this? So I’ll sleep well? Medraut, it isn’t fair! I’m not an invalid." He sat down heavily and suddenly, unable to keep his feet any longer.

"I have finished with fairness," I said. "I have done this to put you at my mercy."

"At your mercy?" Goewin echoed. Her face was gray. "What in heaven’s name are you doing?"

The four of us sat staring at one another. Agravain watched me fiercely through the screen of his unbound copp { undth="2eer hair, waiting for my word, and it was as though you watched me through another’s eyes. Goewin said in a high voice, "My lord and brother, give me a straight answer!"

"I am under command," I said.

Agravain could no longer hold silent. "My mother means to use the prince of Britain as a hostage; we are to bring him to her in Ratae Coritanorum."

"Me!" Lleu breathed.

"You are the prince of Britain," Agravain uttered derisively.

Lleu sneered in return, "Why would I ever take you seriously, Agravain?"

I asked gently, "Can you lift your hands, Lleu?"

He could not. He turned to his sister with a look of horror, and turned too quickly; he lost his balance. Goewin caught him. "Medraut, you’re lying," she said in desperation.

I replied quietly, "I never lie."

"But why have you brought me?" she asked.

Agravain answered, "You are to carry the message back to your father." He continued recklessly, "My mother hates her brother, she hates his children, the two of you. She hates the unspoken exile she is kept in. She wants freedom and power."

I said in a still voice, "Lleu is freedom and power."

"She will use the prince as a playing piece to bargain with," Agravain continued. "His life, his body unharmed, for whatever she desires."

"And why do you serve her in defiance of the high king?" Goewin challenged, her voice still high, but steady.

"I would serve her in defiance of anyone," he told her with passionate fervor. "And the high king is not her master, after all, only her brother."

"Oh, devotion!" Goewin scoffed, holding Lleu upright as he sagged against her shoulder. "Then is Gwalchmei in this as well?"

"Not he." Agravain laughed. "Not the newest of the high king’s Comrades! He will be on his way back to Camlan by the time we reach Ratae Coritanorum."

"But you, Medraut—" Goewin began. Then she and Lleu both began to speak at once, neither of them willing or perhaps even able to believe that I could fail them.

"Has Lleu betrayed you so terribly?"

"I have entrusted my life to you!"

"Are you not pledged to serve him?"

"You are my brother."

"Why on earth would you do such a thing for Morgause?"

"Because," I answered savagely, "she will demand that Artos make me king in place of Lleu."

"Why would he do that?" Goewin said coldly.

"What will he do otherwise, with Lleu’s life in the balance?" I questioned. "I think he loves his youngest child too dearly to refuse. Besides, what has he to lose by complying? Pride, perhaps. It is his own error that keeps me from the kingship, not anything I have done. I am older, stronger, wiser than Lleu; I am liked and admired by the Comrades. If Artos refuses he will have lost both of us. He will not put Britain in such jeopardy."

"He has me still, without either of you," Goewin snarled, "and I am quite capable of reigning."

"Do you hunger for the kingship too?" I laughed, too hard, and began to cough. "Join us, then. If Artos refuses, you and I can kill the prince together."

Goewin hurled her drinking horn at my face; it glanced off my cheek and cracked against the stone wall. Agravain held her back, and Lleu fell forward with chest and cheek against the floor. He fought to right himself, and managed to bring his arms beneath him so that he could raise his head and shoulders.

"You speak so lightly of killing!" Goewin flung at me, trying to break free. "You are no murderer!"

"Indeed I am," I said grimly, "several times over, and by no accident."

Goewin tore herself from Agravain’s grasp and flew at me, snatching for the hunting knife that I still wore at my side. "Ah, no, Princess," I said, and seized one of her wrists as I drew the dagger myself. "You are like Lleu: quick, skillful, but not very strong."

Goewin tried to wrench her arm free, but could not fight very well on her knees in the small space with Lleu sprawled between us. She spat, "Obviously you think more of his strength than you do of mine, or you’d have drugged both of us."

"Goewin," I cautioned with the knife raised, "be still."

"Oh, cut my throat! I dare you!"

"Not yours," I said, and still gripping her wrist, pressed the blade against Lleu’s neck. His head sank. "Now, be still."

Goewin went limp. "You would not."

"I will not kill him, no," I granted. "At least, not now. But if you do not stop struggling I will hurt him."

"Take him, then," she cried. "Ah, God, you make me sick. Cold and aloof as you are, I trusted you more deeply than I would my father, counted your word more binding than I would my own. Soulless viper! Take him! How can I stand in your way now?"

I let her go. She got up and stormed outside into the dark, the snow, the wilderness.

"Shall I bring her back?" Agravain asked.

"Let her be. There is nowhere for her to go."

Lleu whispered raspingly, "You would not have hurt me."

"Are you with us yet, Bright One?" I said in wonder. "You must be fighting as you have never fought before. That dose was stronger than any the queen of the Orcades has ever given you."

"You would not hurt me," Lleu repeated, and with his final fading consciousness reached out to take my crippled hand in his, unafraid, blindly trusting and certain. I could not understand what he tried to say. His fearlessness puzzled me, and I sat silent, gazing down at the dark head and slim hand that clasped my own, wondering.

Goewin came back inside, and without a word helped me to strip Lleu of his wet clothes and to wrap him in furs and blankets for the night. Agravain packed away the remaining food and put out all the lanterns but one; then the three of us joined Lleu in sleep.

I dozed in fits and starts, tangled in monotonous dreams of riding and moors and rain. In the middle of the night I began to cough uncontrolla {h uzedbly, yet could not wake; I lay wretchedly gasping for air, unaware of where I was or who was with me. Then a gentle hand shook my shoulder, and a gentle, concerned voice said, "Medraut. Medraut, sit up, it’ll stop."

The voice was insistent. The hand worked its way beneath my back to help me up, and I could breathe again. Goewin knelt by me, holding me upright, gazing at me anxiously. "Shall I get you something to drink?" she asked.

I said at last, softly, "You are very kind, Goewin."

"Oh." She crept, to the bags and satchels and poured water for me. "Well, you sounded so awful."

"Think where you are," I said.

She blinked. The lantern flickered, burning low, and sent waves of light across her face. "I know where I am," she said.

"Why help me, then? To win my favor?"

"You woke me up," she answered irritably. "You sounded as though you couldn’t breathe. Are you ill?" She touched my forehead briefly with cool fingers and said, "You’re burning!"

"Always," I said darkly.

"No," she said, and drew back from me a little, not sure what I meant. "You’ve a fever."

"I know," I said scornfully.

"For how long?"

"Since early this evening."

"Don’t go," she said.

"I must. My mother—"

I stopped, flushed: I, who never spoke a word more than I meant to speak. After a long moment Goewin said slowly, "Do you ever call her mother?"