wariness dissolved suddenly and absolutely into gratitude and friendship. But he was too proud to receive much from another. He would give his heart’s blood for me, or for any of his friends, but I could not tell him not to work too hard. So I said only, “I hope your journey will not be too long.”
“It is not likely to be long.” His smile faded. He knew as well as I that Macsen would raise new questions for every one that we solved, and that he would have to return to Camlann for more consultations.
“That is what I wished to speak to you about,” I told him. “You will probably be back in another month.”
He nodded, frowning a little, his eyes fixed on my face.
“Although officially you have heard nothing, you know of this new rumor. If the negotiations are protracted, it will grow. And as it grows it will turn into an attack on Arthur as well as on you. They have begun to move against him, these rumors: they hint more and more that he is a fool, that he listens to flattery, and is partial and unjust. Listen, I want you to bring up the subject of the negotiations tonight and in the hearing of those who believe the rumor, if one of them challenges you on it, appeal to Arthur and have it dismissed. I talked to him about it this morning, and we agreed that this might kill it.”
The frown grew deeper. “I could speak of it tonight in the Hall. But I do not think I would be challenged. And if I were challenged—my lady, I do not wish to fight anyone. If I were challenged it might well be in such a way that it would be impossible to settle the matter by appeal, and I would have to fight.”
“You could always appeal. No one would suspect you of being afraid.”
“They will say that I am afraid to kill; or, more likely, that our lord Arthur prevented me from fighting so that I would not kill, because he did not trust what I would do in combat. And there would be some truth to that. I do not know what I might do, either.”
Gwalchmai was subject to a kind of madness in battle, which took his actions beyond his or anyone’s control. He considered it a gift from Heaven. Medraut had made much of it, saying that his brother’s mind was disturbed and that he was likely to go berserk at any time. I had never seen this famous madness, and certainly never seen any trace of insanity in Gwalchmai, but most of the Family had fought beside him and were more willing to listen to Medraut’s stories.
“Are you really afraid of that?” I asked Gwalchmai. “Have you ever killed against your will—for instance, in a mock combat?”
He hesitated. “No. No, I do not think I would kill…but even without killing, I do not wish to fight anyone of the Family.”
“Nor do I want you to fight anyone. But I want the matter brought into the open.”
“If it is, and if I can appeal, and Arthur then decrees for me, it will merely transfer the blame to him.”
“And that will help to bring the matter to a head. Gwalchmai, time is against us. Medraut has worked slowly. First he exclaimed against Agravain as a matricide, and then you. He found a faction of his own. Now there is a continual questioning of Arthur’s judgment, and a mask of wronged innocence when it becomes apparent that Arthur suspects and disbelieves him. But if we push the pace, make him accuse Arthur now, before his followers have had their minds quite poisoned, we may force him further than his friends wish to go. We may even catch him in treason, and be able to exile him somewhere and reunite the Family. But if we let him take his own time, he will destroy us. Isn’t that his goal?”
“It is. But you have omitted one of the things he has done, my lady. He knows that you are his enemy. He says that you are in league with me; perhaps he even says we are lovers—forgive me! I think he may have hinted that. If Arthur supports me, it will be said that it is your doing, that he is weak, a deceived husband ruled by his wife. It would be very
“It is not likely to be long.” His smile faded. He knew as well as I that Macsen would raise new questions for every one that we solved, and that he would have to return to Camlann for more consultations.
“That is what I wished to speak to you about,” I told him. “You will probably be back in another month.”
He nodded, frowning a little, his eyes fixed on my face.
“Although officially you have heard nothing, you know of this new rumor. If the negotiations are protracted, it will grow. And as it grows it will turn into an attack on Arthur as well as on you. They have begun to move against him, these rumors: they hint more and more that he is a fool, that he listens to flattery, and is partial and unjust. Listen, I want you to bring up the subject of the negotiations tonight and in the hearing of those who believe the rumor, if one of them challenges you on it, appeal to Arthur and have it dismissed. I talked to him about it this morning, and we agreed that this might kill it.”
The frown grew deeper. “I could speak of it tonight in the Hall. But I do not think I would be challenged. And if I were challenged—my lady, I do not wish to fight anyone. If I were challenged it might well be in such a way that it would be impossible to settle the matter by appeal, and I would have to fight.”
“You could always appeal. No one would suspect you of being afraid.”
“They will say that I am afraid to kill; or, more likely, that our lord Arthur prevented me from fighting so that I would not kill, because he did not trust what I would do in combat. And there would be some truth to that. I do not know what I might do, either.”
Gwalchmai was subject to a kind of madness in battle, which took his actions beyond his or anyone’s control. He considered it a gift from Heaven. Medraut had made much of it, saying that his brother’s mind was disturbed and that he was likely to go berserk at any time. I had never seen this famous madness, and certainly never seen any trace of insanity in Gwalchmai, but most of the Family had fought beside him and were more willing to listen to Medraut’s stories.
“Are you really afraid of that?” I asked Gwalchmai. “Have you ever killed against your will—for instance, in a mock combat?”
He hesitated. “No. No, I do not think I would kill…but even without killing, I do not wish to fight anyone of the Family.”
“Nor do I want you to fight anyone. But I want the matter brought into the open.”
“If it is, and if I can appeal, and Arthur then decrees for me, it will merely transfer the blame to him.”
“And that will help to bring the matter to a head. Gwalchmai, time is against us. Medraut has worked slowly. First he exclaimed against Agravain as a matricide, and then you. He found a faction of his own. Now there is a continual questioning of Arthur’s judgment, and a mask of wronged innocence when it becomes apparent that Arthur suspects and disbelieves him. But if we push the pace, make him accuse Arthur now, before his followers have had their minds quite poisoned, we may force him further than his friends wish to go. We may even catch him in treason, and be able to exile him somewhere and reunite the Family. But if we let him take his own time, he will destroy us. Isn’t that his goal?”
“It is. But you have omitted one of the things he has done, my lady. He knows that you are his enemy. He says that you are in league with me; perhaps he even says we are lovers—forgive me! I think he may have hinted that. If Arthur supports me, it will be said that it is your doing, that he is weak, a deceived husband ruled by his wife. It would be very
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