The Chessboard Queen by Sharan Newman Page B

comfort, security. She could travel when and where she wished. Arthur gave her clothes and trinkets without her even asking and he still loved her devotedly. So what could it be? She kicked a pillow out of her way. A gust of wind rattled the shutters. She sighed again. Perhaps it was the weather.
     
    • • •
     
    Winter was a time of lazy pleasure for almost everyone at Caerleon except the kitchen servants and Arthur. While the cooks and scullery workers slaved to feed and clean up after the increased population, Arthur sweated over plans, reports, strategy, and the settlement of the constant petty feuds which the leaders of the old British tribes still engaged in. The Romans had given them a thin veneer of culture and a semblance of unity, but whenever the fighting against the invaders slowed, they remembered ancient wrongs and set out to avenge them. Only their loyalty to Arthur kept them from open warfare against each other.
    “Look at this, Merlin!” Arthur fumed. “Craddoc has sent word that Meleagant has annexed a village that is Craddoc’s by tradition. He wants me to give him the extra men so that he can battle to regain it. A village! Two fields, three cows, and fifteen people. By the time they finish fighting for it, the cows will have been eaten, the fields trampled, and the people either starved or forced into slavery.”
    “You should watch Meleagant, nevertheless. His power is growing and he doesn’t like to have his ‘private’ affairs controlled.”
    Arthur waved Meleagant aside. “Not now, Merlin. The Round Table will see to him. Here is another. Maelgwn has let it be known that he has no intention of maintaining watchtowers against the Irish unless he is paid in horses and wine. He also mentions that he will accept daughters of a family of good breeding for fostering, if they are no older than fifteen and no younger than twelve. Wonderful. He has three sons that no woman is safe near and his own wife died last fall. The citizens of Chichester inform me that they have not seen any Saxons in the last seven years and therefore don’t feel the need to pay taxes to me to protect them any longer. Yesterday a trader from York came to complain that his local priest had raped his wife during confession and it was my duty to see that the church paid for the support of the child. Merlin, will you please tell me again? Why have I spent the last fifteen years fighting?”
    Merlin smiled indulgently. Arthur was like this every winter. When spring came and he could travel, seeing what he had done and what was needed, he would regain his spirits. It was having to deal long distance with the whines and protestations of supplicants that discouraged him.
    “You should be pleased that they come to you, Arthur. It means that your plans are working. You wanted to reestablish central government and you have. Now before they bash each other’s brains out, they appeal to you for a judgment. What we need now is to create an extension of your power. If these children can be taught to look upon a court or an administrator as an arm of your rule, then they will bother you only with a final appeal.”
    Arthur leafed through the mass of papers and vellum. He shook his head.
    “It won’t work, at least not yet. The people who do the fighting are the ones who will want control of their jurisdiction. It’s all the fault of Macson Wledig. Before he went sailing off to make himself emperor, he handed the cities back to the provincial leaders. They simply realigned themselves back into their old tribes and clans, and we have to deal with that. I need outside people who have no affiliations except to me. They must be able to pass a wise and fair judgment and back it up with strength. They must be respected and maybe a little feared. A long while ago, I considered letting the church handle the matter, but that won’t work, either. The bishops and priests are either too wrapped up in God or too venal. All of them are attached