The Hallowed Isle Book Four by Diana L. Paxson Read Free Book Online Page B

. . .” Artor continued after a moment had passed. “Beasts, or men, must be led in the direction their nature compels them. It is my judgment that the Picts are ready for peace. I would hate to think that I have grown so accustomed to fighting that I crave it as a drunkard his wine! Still, just in case, Cai has the right of it: there is onewhom I have no right to lead into danger—” He glanced back down the line, seeking the gleam of Ceawlin’s ruddy hair.
    â€œGoriat, go back down the line and bring Cynric’s cub up here to ride with me.”
    â€œAnd that’s another risk . . .” mumured Cai as the younger man rode off.
    â€œThe child is nine years old! Do you fear he will attack me?” exclaimed Artor.
    â€œHe is a fox kit. I am afraid you will love him, and be hurt when he goes back to his wild kin. . . .”
    Artor shut his lips, remembering the incident Cai referred to. He was grateful that his foster-brother had not mentioned Oesc, whom he had also made his hostage, and loved, and at Mons Badonicus been forced to kill. His little son must be almost eight by now.
    He shook off the memory as Goriat returned, the frowning child kicking his pony to keep up with him. Despite his Saxon name, Ceawlin had the look of the Belgic royal house from whom his grandfather Ceretic had come.
    Our blood is already mingling , thought Artor. How long before we will be one in spirit? He thought once more of the other little boy, Oesc’s son, whose mother was Britannic and royal as well.
    â€œAre you enjoying the journey?”
    The grey glance flickered swiftly upward, then Ceawlin fixed his gaze on the road once more.
    â€œYou will have seen more of Britannia by now than any of the boys at home.” Artor saw the frown began to ease and hid a smile. “But perhaps you miss the southern lands. It is in my mind to send you to stay at Camalot, under the care of my queen.”
    â€œDoes she have a little boy?”
    Artor twitched, momentarily astonished that the question should bring such pain. But Ceawlin could have no idea he had even struck a blow, much less how near to the bone. Would Guendivar learn to love this fox kit he was sending her? Or would she weep in secret because her husband had not been able to give her a child?
    Goriat was telling the boy about Camalot, where the childrenof the folk who cooked and kept the livestock and stood guard ran laughing along the walls. The princes and chieftains brought their sons when they came visiting, but they were all British. At least Oesc had had Cunorix and Betiver as companions.
    â€œPerhaps we will send for Eormenric of Cantuware to keep you company—” he said then. “Would you like that?”
    Ceawlin nodded. “His father was my grandfather’s ally.”
    Cai raised an eyebrow. This kit was not going to be easy to tame.
    Eormenric had been raised by his mother to be Artor’s friend. Still, he would need friends among the Saxons as well, and perhaps Ceawlin would be more willing to listen to another boy. They could guard each other’s backs against the British child-pack, and Guendivar would win them over as she did everyone.
    Artor closed his eyes for a moment, seeing against his eyelids the gleam of her amber hair. When he was at home, the knowledge of how he had failed her was sometimes so painful he longed to be away. But when he was far from her, Guendivar haunted his dreams.
    â€œThat is settled, then,” he said briskly. “Goriat, I will give you an escort to take the boy south, and letters to the queen.” Then, as the young man looked mutinous, “Do not fear for my safety—Cai here will be suspicious enough for two. Besides, was there not some story that the Picts wanted you to husband one of their princesses? I fear to let them set eyes on you!”
    At the blush that suffused Goriat’s cheeks everyone began to laugh, and Artor knew that his