Ex lapis, p.1
Ex Lapis, page 1
part #2 of Arthur Rex Series
TOC
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living, dead, or undead, events, places or names is purely coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced or transferred in any form or by any means, without the written permission of the authors. Uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without a permission of the authors is illegal and punishable by law.
Text copyright © 2017 J. A. Cummings
All Rights Reserved
www.authorjacummings.com
http://author.to/JACummings
https://www.facebook.com/groups/224474201619690/
Editing by Chantel Cummings
Cover design by Rainbow Danger Designs https://rainbowdangerdesig.wixsite.com/rainbowdanger
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
To Be Continued
Appendix A: Characters
Appendix B: Locations
Appendix C: Glossary
About the Author
With gratitude to
Sandy Nelson
for
helping to define
the queens
They put his half-brother in the ground and stood by while Father Marcus invoked a Christian God that Madoc had never worshipped. Arthur thought that they should have given Madoc a proper Druidic burial, but Merlin had not objected to this ceremony, so he said nothing. In truth, considering it had been his blow that had ended Madoc’s life, he was the last person with any right to speak. In the end, the prayers were said, and everyone crossed themselves like dutiful worshippers as the dirt was shoveled over the dead prince’s shroud. The squires Lucan and Griflet were tasked with being the gravediggers, and they set to their task as Arthur and the knights went back into the keep.
“That’s two,” Sir Bedivere said as they crossed the snow-dusted ground between the chapel and the great hall.
“Two what?” Arthur asked.
“Two of your half-brothers who won’t be contesting you for the crown. Now only two remain.”
Sir Brastias was holding the door. “Two half-brothers remaining, and a list of petty kings and ambitious warlords as long as my arm. We will have to think very carefully about securing support for you before you are revealed.”
“Leave the first steps to me,” Merlin said.
“If they follow me, they have to do it by their own choice,” Arthur said. He could not believe that the calm voice he was hearing was his own, or that he was the one speaking the words. He felt like an actor in a play and he hadn’t finished memorizing his part. “I don’t want you to enchant anyone to compel their loyalty.”
“Well, you can’t bribe them,” Brastias pointed out. “You’re poor as a church mouse.”
“Loyalty isn’t worth a damn unless it’s freely given,” said Sir Ector, Arthur’s foster father. “I agree with Arthur. Bribed support only lasts as long as the flow of gold, and compulsory allegiance will end at the first opportunity to stab him in the back.”
Bedivere sat heavily by the hearth. “With all due respect to our young prince, here, a boy can only inspire grown men so far.”
Arthur pressed his lips into a determined line. “Watch me work.”
The assembled knights looked at him in varying degrees of skepticism. Finally, Sir Kay spoke for them all as he scoffed, “Watch you work at what? You’re useless.”
“Kay!” Sir Ector sounded horrified.
To everyone’s surprise, Arthur actually laughed. He could feel the laughter taking on an element of hysteria and he bit it back. “Please, Kay, never stop being yourself. Never stop treating me like your little brother. I will need that in times to come.”
“Fifteen years old.” Sir Illtyd shook his head. “And listen to you. ‘Watch me work,’ indeed.”
Arthur folded his arms and felt an unexpected stabbing grief as he found himself wishing that Amren were there to see this day. “Are you saying that you don’t support me, Sir Illtyd?”
“Oh, I will support your claim, if it is true and honest, and if you can actually pull the sword from the stone. Merlin says you’re the High King’s heir, and I have only known him to lie occasionally -”
“Damning with faint praise,” Merlin muttered.
“- so I will believe him for now,” Illtyd finished, glaring at the druid. “But you are already fancying yourself a leader of men, when this morning you were only a squire, and a half-trained one, at that. The hill you seek to climb is very steep, and if you set out on this path as you are today, you will never reach the top.”
“If you feel I need to be taught, then teach me,” Arthur said.
“There isn’t much time,” Ector noted, sitting on another bench. “It will take several days to get to Londinium if we go at a leisurely pace, but that isn’t nearly enough time to tell you everything you need to know.”
Merlin spoke quietly. “You didn’t see his training, but that doesn’t mean that he never received any. Remember, he was with me at Ynys Môn for three months, and every day, all day, I was teaching him.”
Illtyd snorted. “About roots and berries, perhaps, but not about the things he’ll need to know as king. Not how to fight, not how to lead.”
The druid frowned and said, “Yr ydym yn newid.” Magic spread through the room, emanating from him like a wave that washed over all of them. Arthur found himself clad in full armor, a sword in his hand, and Merlin, now strapped into armor of his own, stalked toward him with a dagger in one hand and a war hammer in the other. Arthur softened his knees, dropping slightly into a defensive crouch.
Bedivere sprang to his feet and stood between them. “Stop it! We know that Arthur can fight. He slew Madoc, did he not? We need no further proof.”
Merlin stopped his advance, and Arthur waited a heartbeat longer until he was certain no attack was coming. He finally straightened and relaxed. Illtyd shook his head and turned away.
Kay cleared his throat, then said hesitantly, “Is there really any way to make him ready for what’s to come? The best we can do is to adjust to the situation as we find it and make the best of things.”
Ector nodded. “Well spoken, son.” He sighed. “We -”
He stopped speaking. Garwen and Griflet had come into the hall, and the assembled knights looked at one another. Merlin shook his head slightly, and they all fell silent. The druid dismissed the armor and weapons his magic had called into being, and he turned to face the new arrivals.
“Lady Garwen,” he said smoothly. “I trust you’re feeling better?”
Sir Bedivere’s niece nodded. “Yes. It was… a shock. I’ve never seen a dead man before. There was so much blood...” Her voice caught, and Griflet, her brother, put a hand on her shoulder in support.
The knights held an awkward silence, and to Arthur, it looked as if they were all sharing some guilty secret. Griflet looked suspicious, his gaze shifting from one knight to another. In desperation to return to something like normality, Arthur said, “I’ll go to the kitchen and ask for refreshment.”
“But -” Bedivere cut himself off. “Of course. Well thought.”
Kay rose quickly. “I’ll go. I want to see what food we have for tonight.”
He left, brushing past Griflet and Garwen. The siblings shared an anxious glance, and then Bedivere cleared his throat. “Garwen, Sir Brastias and I are old friends.”
The girl nodded. “Yes, I know. I’ve heard you speak of him many times, and he of you.”
“I am your guardian, now that your parents are both departed.”
A glimmer of excitement sparked in her eyes. “Yes, you are.”
“I am old, my dear, and you are very young. Brastias and I were speaking…”
Arthur smiled to himself. It was a lie, but it covered the truth until it was time to reveal it. He walked to the edge of the room and stood behind Sir Ector, leaning against the wall and waiting for orders like a proper squire should.
Brastias looked at Bedivere in confusion, then in consternation. Understanding finally lit in his eyes as Bedivere said, “We were speaking about your future.”
“We were?” Brastias asked. The conversation was clearly going in a direction he had not intended.
“We were.”
Garwen’s lips twitched as she struggled not to react. “My future, my lord?”
Her uncle continued. “You need to marry soon, my dear, and you have been keeping company with Sir Brastias. He has asked for your hand in marriage.”
Brastias’s mouth dropped open, and Ector chuckled. Garwen clasped her hands tightly before her bosom, scarcely able to contain herself. Bedivere smiled at his old friend in something like triumph, and Brastias closed his mouth and swallowed hard.
Griflet raised his eyebrows. “Marriage?”
“Indeed.” Bedivere glanced at Brastias, his expression challenging the other knight to contradict his words, and then he turned back toward his niece. “Would this match please you?”
The girl flushed red all the way to her hairl ine, and she lost the battle to suppress her grin. “Very, very much, my lord.”
Illtyd smirked. “What say you, Sir Brastias?”
Brastias gulped again, then said, “I say I will make you a happy wife, my lady, and I will be a good husband to you.” The knight walked to Garwen and took her hand in his. He looked into her eyes, and when he spoke, he sounded more certain. “I would have you, if you would have me.”
She nearly melted when he kissed her hand, and she asked her uncle, “Do we have your blessing, sir?”
“You do.”
“Then I will gratefully take you as my husband, Sir Brastias.”
They embraced. Arthur looked at Bedivere, who had a look of triumph on his face, and at Merlin, who seemed annoyed. Illtyd went to Brastias and clapped him on the shoulder.
“Congratulations, old dog. This is a day I never thought I’d live to see.”
The knight smirked and admitted, “Neither did I.”
Ector turned to Arthur and said softly, “Let this be a lesson for you in how to gently manipulate other people. Bedivere is the best in the business.”
The young man snorted. “So it seems. It was a risk, though. It would have been cruel to Garwen if Brastias had refused.”
“He couldn’t. We all know that he took her maidenhead, and for him to cast her off would have been dishonorable. He had no choice.”
“There are always choices,” Merlin said softly, joining them. “There just aren’t always good ones. Luckily Brastias is at heart a good man and would never humiliate a lady.”
Arthur nodded, taking it in. Garwen and Brastias were receiving congratulations from the others, and the noise was covering their conversation. “It’s a shame he was tricked into it. That’s no way for a marriage to begin.”
Merlin snorted. “Many marriages have started in worse ways.”
“Like my parents’ marriage?”
The druid nodded. “Yes. Just like that.”
Arthur looked down at his feet. “Does Queen Igraine still live?”
“She does.”
“Do you…” He licked his lips nervously. “Do you think she would want to meet me?”
His foster father shook his head. “She has gone into seclusion in a convent. She is lost to the rest of the world.”
“Convents have doors, don’t they?” Arthur asked. “They’re not prisons.”
“Leave her be,” Merlin counseled. “If you go to her, you will receive no kind welcome.”
“Why? Does she hate me so much?”
“She hated your father.” The druid put a hand on his arm. “It is best to leave her to her solitude.”
Kay returned with a serving woman, who carried a tray of mugs while Kay himself carried a rundlet of wine. Bedivere exclaimed when he saw them, “Ah! And now for a proper celebration.”
The death of Madoc had been deliberately forgotten, and Arthur was glad to stop thinking about it. They drank to the health of the newly betrothed couple, and to the happiness of their future. They lifted their glasses to friendship and to the voyage they would soon undertake to Londinium, nearly in Saxon territory. After the last toast, Merlin silently raised his mug in salute to Arthur himself, and Arthur responded in kind. They drank to one another, with no one else the wiser.
Morning came in a blaze of pain. Arthur groaned at the combined sounds of the rooster crowing and the chapel bell ringing matins. Every peal and every bird call resounded through his head like a hammer.
Griflet was already awake and enthusiastic to start the day. He prodded Arthur’s leg with his toe. “Get up, sleepy head. Time to pack.”
He was confused and fuzzy-brained. He had consumed more wine last night than he had in his entire life, and he could still smell it on his own breath. “Pack?” he managed.
“For the trip to Londinium. Isn’t is exciting? I’ve never been east of Viroconium. This will be my first time in the city.” He tossed his satchel onto his pallet, and it landed with a thump that made Arthur groan. Griflet chuckled at his misery. “I’m surprised they let you drink so much last night. You were pouring it down like it was a contest. I wasn’t sure who was getting drunk faster, you or Sir Brastias.” He paused. “Of course, I suppose if I’d just killed a man for the first time, I’d be drinking like a fish, too.”
Arthur rolled onto his side with some difficulty. The next step was to actually get up, but he saw no need to rush things. He lay there quietly, watching the room through bleary eyes.
Griflet tossed some things into his satchel and kept chattering. Arthur wanted to kill him. “Why do you think Prince Madoc attacked you, anyway? Why would he come for you?”
“He didn’t,” Arthur managed to say. His voice sounded like grit on stone, and his throat felt much the same. “I was just closest to the gate.”
“Huh. I suppose. So he was going to just come in and kill everybody single-handed and take Caer Gai? All alone? Doesn’t sound very smart.”
“Wasn’t.” He managed to get onto his knees. He was making progress. “He died.”
“True. It wasn’t a very well-thought-out attack.” Griflet gathered his shirts out of the chest at the foot of his pallet and let the lid slam back down. Arthur winced. “I wonder what he was thinking, and why he thought he could take the whole keep all by himself. Isn’t that strange? What do you think made him do that?”
“I have no idea.”
He loudly pulled the drawstring on his bag. Arthur was convinced that he was doing it on purpose. “My uncle thinks maybe King Uther told him about you, and that you’re his heir. So I really do think he was coming to kill you. What’s it like, having people trying to murder you? This is probably just the first of a hundred that will happen.”
“Oh my God,” Arthur groaned. He struggled to his feet. “Shut up.”
His companion chuckled. “I guess you’re not going to be drinking so much again, eh?”
He got dressed slowly, finding that the longer he was awake, the easier moving became. Griflet was watching him with a sly expression, as if he could start talking again at any moment, but thankfully he had remembered how to be quiet. When he was dressed and ready for the day, more or less, his companion shoved an empty bag into his hands.
“Pack quickly,” he said. “We’re leaving soon.”
He patted Arthur on the shoulder and left the room at a trot, heading down to the courtyard to help prepare the horses for the journey. Arthur filled the bag with the things he thought he should bring, including his best clothes. If he was going to be declared king, he couldn’t do it dressed in simple homespun. He was just tying the bag closed when Sir Ector came into the room.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
Arthur nodded, although moving his head was still an invitation to pain. “Yes. As ready as I can ever be, I suppose.”
Ector looked at him with stormy eyes. A hundred different emotions, it seemed, flickered there, flashing across his face one after another in a dizzying procession. Finally, Ector said, “I don’t really know what the future will bring. I don’t know if we are going to your glory or to our doom, or to some combination of the two. I am afraid for you, Arthur.”
He put his bag down and asked, “Did you know?”
“No. I suspected that you were the child of someone of great import, but it never occurred to me until recently that it might have been the High King.” He sighed. “I wish this wasn’t happening now. You’re still so young.”
“I feel like I’m a thousand years old, and not just because of the drink.”
Ector walked to him and put his one good hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “I have no doubt that you will be a good king. I will do everything in my power to ensure that you survive to be the man I know you’ll be.”
Arthur embraced him, and his father held him tightly. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. You didn’t have to be so kind to me, but you were. I will never forget it.”
