Web of Deceit by M. K. Hume Read Free Book Online Page A

High King’s strategic planning and his analytical assessment of the political realities of life in Britain. He understood instinctively that Ambrosius was seeking to absorb the barbarians, rather than waiting to be gobbled up by the sheer weight of their encroaching numbers.
    ‘Ambrosius is an astute ruler,’ Myrddion told his fellow healers as they shared the information they had learned during their ministrations to the sick. ‘May he live long, for his method of dealing with the Saxon menace is likely to work. If they can be harnessed to his throne as vassals, perhaps Celts and Saxons can live together amicably. We are not so very different, under the skin. Remember Captus, King Merovech’s officer at Châlons? He was a perfect example of a man of common sense who had learned to deal fairly and reasonably with men of many races.’
    Myrddion spun a pretty eating knife on his palm, the blade Captus had given him when they parted after the Battle of the Catalaunian Plain. The Frank officer had been amusing company and was fiercely devoted to his land but, like many of his race, he had discovered that the earth must be shared if it was to flourish. Captus recognised that constant warfare turns fertile acres into scorched desert.
    ‘Aye, Ambrosius holds the fate of the west in his hands, so we must be thankful that the High King’s common sense and Uther’s brilliance as a warrior have kept the Saxons stalled at Londinium, although the brothers must be constantly vigilant. Heaven help us if the heirsof Constans should ever perish.’
    ‘Then I’ll pray for them . . . hard,’ Cadoc said ironically. ‘I’ll even pray for that bastard Uther. I’ve only seen him the once, but I know why superstitious folk whisper that his sire was a dragon. I could easily believe it, once I’d met the son of a bitch.’
    ‘Master?’ Brangaine called from the shadows. The flickering from the fire softened her harsh, middle-aged features and exposed the delicate bones under her weather-beaten complexion. Long acquaintance and familiarity can blind the keenest eyes. With a pang, Myrddion recognised that she must have been a lovely creature in her youth.
    ‘Yes, Brangaine?’
    ‘The others won’t question you, believing that you would never willingly take us into danger, but I have Willa to consider and she’s very frightened, so I must ask. In fact, she has been terrified ever since that thug tried to attack us on the docks. The poor child has odd dreams that haunt her and she’s been fair demented from some kind of premonition since we’ve returned home. I don’t know for sure what she sees or dreams about, but I’d like to tell her we’re going somewhere safe and gentle just to set her mind at rest. She’s nigh on eight now and she’s growing like a weed, but maybe she saw things at Tournai that might have twisted her mind out of balance.’
    Myrddion bit his lip guiltily, because he had scarcely spared a thought for the scarred child who travelled with them and had become the centre of Brangaine’s universe. Now that he was forced to consider the matter, Willa had appeared very pale and remote of late.
    ‘I’m sorry that I’ve been thoughtless about the little mite, Brangaine. She never complains, so I sometimes forget she is with us, but that’s no excuse for my carelessness. You say she’s been troubled? How?’
    Now it was Brangaine’s turn to be mortified at herforwardness in implying any fault in her master, a man who had always put the welfare of his dependants before his own health. She would have remained silent, but her love for Willa drove her to answer.
    ‘Willa doesn’t talk much to anyone, even when she’s alone with me. It’s almost as if she doesn’t need to put her thoughts into words . . . or she doesn’t trust anyone with whatever memories lie in her head. You’ve always been kind to her, master, but the poor little creature is very troubled. I’ve asked her about her worries over and