Chapter Sixteen

Winter 523

By the time the snows began, Evina’s army had nearly doubled, with nearly three hundred new recruits in training. As their teachers, we—the remaining Combrogi, Lancelot, Kiara, Sobian and I—had a responsibility to see their training continued through the cold winter months. Though there would be no campaigns until spring, they could still spar and learn basic knowledge. We divided them into classes of approximately thirty students—though twenty would have been preferable—and devised a learning schedule similar to the one used in Avalon so they could study multiple skills at once.

On a leaden day about three weeks before midwinter, we took them north, into the mountains above of the Firth of Forth. Though chances were good we would not campaign in winter, we chose to test the students’ endurance and fealty to the commitment they had made by exposing them to the elements.

During our three-day excursion, the warriors learned how to walk with heavy packs, maneuver horses in the snow, and fight on a variety of surfaces, from ice and snow to steep mountain passes. They were also required to swim in a freezing lake and practice rescue and healing skills. They learned to find a defensible position, build shelter with and without usable timber, how to light a fire under a variety of conditions, and how to find fresh water, even when all appeared frozen. Their final lesson was one Lancelot and I had learned by nearly losing our lives when fleeing Malegant’s mountain fortress—sound carries differently in the cold and snow and forgetting that can be deadly.

By dawn on the fourth day, we were all ready to head back to Din Eidyn, even though it was snowing. We had just left our campsite—Sobian and Kay in the front, recruits in the middle, and Lancelot and I bringing up the rear—when I noticed Lancelot’s horse lagging behind.

“What’s wrong?”

Lancelot bent over his horse’s neck. “He’s not stepping correctly on his left foot.”

I pulled up next to him and we both dismounted.

Lancelot took the horse’s hoof in his hand and turned it over to examine the underside. He cursed. “An ice ball. I just inspected his hooves earlier. How could one have formed so fast?”

I peered at it. “In these conditions, anything is possible.” I picked at the ice ball with my fingers, hoping it would dislodge easily, but it didn’t budge.

Lancelot dug at the mound of ice with his dagger, but with the same results. He squinted at me. “It is going to take some time to remove this without hurting him. Go on without me. I will catch up with you.”

I was loathe to leave him behind, especially knowing the snow would get worse as the day went on; I sensed it.

When I made to follow him back to the remains of our campsite, Lancelot waved me away. “I’m going to have to rebuild the fire and heat the hoof pick to try to get this out. It almost looks like someone jammed ice in his hoof, then melted it so it would cling to the shoe. The wrath of the winter gods never ceases to amaze me.”

“Are you sure you will be all right out here alone?”

“Of course. How many winters did I survive alone on the road before I met you?” He flashed a heart-melting grin. “Besides, I have the remains of this morning’s kill with me and I know where you are headed. I’ll meet you at the next campsite.”

I kissed him quickly and mounted my horse. “Be careful.”

Day turned to night and Lancelot still had not joined us. The evening star replaced the morning star a second time, and I panicked. So many things could have befallen my husband—bears, wolves, snowdrifts, thin ice, cold, hunger. If there was even a chance he was injured or in need of help, I couldn’t sit idly by and do nothing.

One day out from Din Eidyn, I broke from our party, leaving the students in the care of the former Combrogi while Sobian and I retraced our route. We found our former campsite, but nothing appeared amiss. However, a short distance away, we found Lancelot’s horse, his ears frostbitten and hoof still impacted with ice, but otherwise healthy.

“Where is your master?” I asked, looking deep into his eyes as though I had Lancelot’s talent for speaking with horses.

His eyes rolled as though recalling some unspeakable horror.

With a jolt, the sight came upon me and my mind was transported south. Lancelot was bound and gagged, kneeling at the feet of Elga and Ira. The Saxon said something to him and Lancelot shook his head. A guard drew his sword, then the vision vanished.

“No,” I shouted. “No!” Violent spasms racked my frame.

Sobian dismounted and put her arms around me. “Guinevere, shush. Shhh,” she hissed in my ear. “We must be quiet or risk triggering an avalanche. Remember what we taught the students?” She took my face in her hands as my wails increased in volume and violence. “Remember? Look at me, Guinevere. Look at me.”

I complied, blinking away frozen tears.

“Good,” she soothed. “Come now, we must be away from here. You can tell me what has you so upset when we are in a safer place.”

In the shelter of the pine forest, I poured out my heart to her.

“I will get my girls on it. If anyone can find him, we can,” she assured me with a squeeze of my hand.

“But he is with that unholy witch of a woman,” I cried. “She swore to me someday she would have her revenge. What if this is it?”

“Then we will have to kill her before she can do any permanent damage. She should have died at Badon and has been living on borrowed time ever since.”

When we were finally back in Din Eidyn, Lancelot’s horse safely in the stable, I fell asleep in Sobian’s arms, exhausted and unable to find comfort anywhere else.

I was just beginning to dream when Sobian gently shook me awake. “Guinevere, you have a visitor.”

My sleep-addled mind leapt to Lancelot, expecting to see him when Galen opened the door. But instead, Morgan stood on the threshold.

She rushed toward me and fell at my feet. “Oh, Guinevere, I am so sorry. I never thought… I never intended…”

Morgan apologizing? Surely I was still sleeping. This had to be a dream; she had never once apologized to me in all the years I had known her. But if I was dreaming, why would Sobian have had to wake me? No. As improbable as it was, this was very real.

I raised Morgan to her feet, holding her at arm’s length. Her red hair was disheveled under her black hood, eyes bloodshot, cheeks stained with tears. Her lips quivered as though she was about to let loose a fresh torrent of tears.

“What is it Morgan? What have you to apologize for?”

She looked at me in consternation, some of her old defiance returning. “Lancelot’s disappearance, you daft cow.”

“What?” I could not believe she’d had anything to do with it. How could she have known where we would be? I hadn’t even seen her since we returned from the Isle of Winds. I must have misheard her.

I was about to question her further, when the complaint of a wooden chair groaning under weight drew my attention across the room to Accolon, sunken-cheeked and missing an eye, but very much alive. Maybe I was dreaming. The last time I had seen him, Elga was dragging his unconscious body aboard one of their ships at the Isle of Winds. How had he escaped her and when? And if he was here and Morgan was apologizing for Lancelot’s disappearance, that meant—

“Elga offered me a trade,” Morgan explained as though she could not keep the words inside any longer. “Lancelot’s whereabouts for the return of Accolon.” She looked at me, eyes pleading. “You must believe that I never expected she would take him. Now… now…” She reached inside her gown and removed a roll of parchment. It shook as she held it out to me.

I handed it to Sobian, not trusting my own eyes to read it.

“She is demanding your life and the allegiance of the Votad and Votadess in exchange for Lancelot.”

Less than an hour later, a small crowd gathered inside the smoky council room for an emergency meeting in the wake of Morgan’s revelation. Evina and Mynyddog poured over correspondence and maps while a handful of counselors whispered advice and suggestions out of our hearing.

They had been silent for so long, I feared they had forgotten my presence. “We must rescue him,” I pleaded for what felt like the thousandth time.

Mynyddog raised a hand as though he could shield himself from my panic and outrage with a gesture. “I understand your need for action. I am troubled by this situation as well, but we cannot simply take up arms without thinking through all eventualities.”

Mynyddog’s words—no, it was more the surprising compassion in his tone—surprised and soothed me. Deep down, I knew he was not reacting out of any fondness for me, but out of concern for Elga’s terms. My life was one thing; he would turn me over to the Saxons in a heartbeat. But asking them to bow before foreign rule was another matter altogether.

“It would be tantamount to murder to send our men on campaign in the middle of winter,” Evina pointed out.

“Which I’m sure the Saxons took into consideration,” Sobian said, more to herself than to anyone else.

Mynyddog nodded, tapping his balled fist against his lips, eyes distant with thought. “They need time for whatever they are planning. That’s why they did this in winter. They want to be ready when we come to them.”

“But where will we engage with them? We don’t even know where they are,” I said.

“Let me try to find them,” Morgan suggested, tapping her forehead.

I crooked an eyebrow at her. I was the one with an emotional connection to Lancelot. I was the one with the ability to see events at a distance. She could only… see the future. She would be able to see where they would be when our forces were ready to move, which was much more valuable than knowing where they presently stood. Inwardly, I scoffed at myself. My petty, jealous pride had nearly blinded me to Morgan’s wisdom. If I hadn’t exorcised my demons where she was concerned by now, would I ever?

Morgan sank down gracefully before the fire, tucking her feet beneath her and smoothing her gown over them. She breathed deeply a few times, but instead of closing her eyes as I would have done, she stared deep into the fire, letting her vision unfocus. To my left, Accolon tapped a steady beat on the wall with his palms to encourage Morgan’s trance. Galen soon joined in.

Morgan’s eyes moved, darting back and forth like a dreamer’s as she beheld a scene invisible to the rest of us.

“Morgan, what do you see?” I coaxed.

“A hillfort. To the south. It’s…” Her brow wrinkled. “It’s farther inland than the rest of the Saxon holdings. In Accolon’s lands.” She turned toward her husband, eyes still blank with trance. “They have taken him to Catraeth and are preparing for a siege. They want us to come.” She raised a hand to her head, seemed for a moment to regain herself, then collapsed in Accolon’s arms. He quickly carried her from the room.

Evina, who had been listening attentively, ran a finger along one of the maps in front of her. “This is dire news indeed. If they have time to enforce the boundaries around Catraeth, they can cut us off from Rheged and Strathclyde, effectively blocking any reinforcements or aid from the south.”

Mynyddog grunted, his brow wrinkled. “We would be penned in like hogs, ripe for slaughter.”

Evina leaned over and said something into her husband’s ear. Soon, two of the counselors were blocking them from view.

I eyed Sobian, not liking the enthusiasm with which Evina was conversing with the men.

When she turned back to us, Evina’s eyes were sparkling.

My stomach knotted in response.

“Leave us,” Evina commanded the room. I turned to follow the others, but Evina stopped me. “Not you, Guinevere.”

Slowly, I faced her, unsure why they would wish to speak to me in private. Evina waved me toward the throne. I dutifully stepped forward and knelt at their feet.

“Do you remember that I once told you the day would come when I would call in your debts to be paid?” Without waiting for an answer, she continued. “That day has come.”

I looked at her, confused. “What is it you wish of me?”

Mynyddog glanced at his wife, then addressed me. “You will lead our army to Catraeth in spring.”

“Me? But why would you wish me to command in your name? I thought that was the very thing you forbid.”

“Lancelot is your husband, is he not?” Evina asked.

“Yes.” I still didn’t understand. “But surely there are leaders among your sons or within your army whom you trust more.”

They did not respond, simply continued to watch me, waiting.

Slowly, understanding dawned. They had others they trusted and valued more, but they didn’t wish to waste them on this expedition. I, on the other hand, was expendable.

“You are not confident of victory.” It was a statement, not a question. I marveled at Evina’s capacity for revenge as the pieces fell into place in my mind. “You wish me to lead them in case we fail.”

Evina smiled cruelly, an expression I had only ever seen on Morgan. “I expect you to fail. We cannot let the Saxon bid for Catraeth go unanswered, but knowing they anticipate us and with our army split as it is, we have little chance of defeating them. I must keep my best troops in reserve here for what may come. I already have a contingent in Lothian and another guarding the Picts in the north, so I can only give this cause so many men.” She shrugged.

“Then why send me at all? What is to stop me from beginning the journey to placate you and abandoning them and you for another court, say that of Accolon or Constantine?”

Evina laughed. “Do you think I do not know you at all? You are too loyal, too concerned for the fate of the people. You would never abandon an army to certain death, even if your husband’s life wasn’t at stake.” She leaned forward. “Make no mistake, your troops are not welcome back here without you, and you are not welcome back if you fail. Victory or death are your only choices.”

So that was it. After so many months of toying with me and using me, Evina had finally delivered my death sentence. She would not put me to the sword or hang me in front of a crowd, but I was being executed for treason all the same. She would rather a Saxon blade do the work for her.

I looked at them. “And if I refuse?”

“I will send word to Catraeth that we have refused their terms and Lancelot dies.”