Page 31 of The Faerie Morgana
Morgana closed the amulet and held it in her palm as she turned to Braithe. The girl’s cheeks were flushed and her hair disordered. An uneasy qualm fluttered in Morgana’s heart, but there was no time now. She said only, “I did.”
“What happens now?”
“I will take the charm to the Blackbird. He can bestow it on the king.”
“I will go find him if you like.”
“No, thank you, Braithe. I know where he is. Go to your bed.”
Morgana found the Blackbird sitting where she had expected, on the bench beneath the rowan tree. The summer sky was brilliant with stars, and the evening breeze had died down, leaving the warm air sweet with the scents of the fruit trees in the castle gardens. As usual, the Blackbird had dropped his chin to his chest and was leaning on his staff as if asleep. Morgana wondered if he ever actually lay down to rest. She sat down quietly, hoping not to disturb him, but found he was awake after all. Without straightening, he turned his head to look a question at her, his ragged gray eyebrows lifting. “Is it done?”
“It is.”
“Will you give it to your stepfather?”
“I could not bear to touch him, sir.”
“Morgana, upon occasion you have to put aside your pride for the greater good.”
She held out the amulet on her palm. “I cannot in this case, sir. I have done all I can bring myself to do.”
He sat up then, pushing his hat back a little and wriggling to ease his back. “The war party rides out in two hours.” He took the amulet from her and dropped it into the pocket of his cloak. “I will give it to him then.” He gave her another searching glance. “You understand why this is necessary?”
She only nodded. She never lied, and she would not lie to the Blackbird. Silence was her only solution. She had done what was needed. It was pointless to indulge in regret. “Are you going with them?”
“Uther thinks he may need my Latin, rudimentary though it is.”
“You will be careful.”
“Do you fear I will fall from my horse?” His beard twitched as he regarded her, a glint of humor in his black eyes.
She could not smile. “No. I fear betrayal, sir.”
He sobered, saying, “Always a risk in times of war.”
The Blackbird disliked riding since his bones had grown so stiff, but he had loved it once. In the far distant past, when he was young, when his flesh was malleable and his muscles forgiving, he had ridden at every opportunity. He had owned one particular steed, a fleet, well-mannered creature with a beautiful coat like polished silver and enormous black hooves. He had calledhim Cloud, and they had covered many miles of forest and valley together. No other horse had made him feel so strong or so free. Sitting atop Cloud had made the young Blackbird—not that anyone called him that at the time—feel as if he owned the sky.
It was Cloud who carried him into fae country, commanded by the Lady. That had changed everything. The Blackbird wondered what had become of Cloud after he left. He could only hope someone in the White City treated him well and appreciated what a grand horse he was.
Now Uther’s horsemaster had provided him with a palfrey, a docile, plump little creature with a coat the color of mud. One of the lackeys assisted him to mount, and the Blackbird stifled a groan as he adjusted his frame to the saddle and silently cursed the pains of great age. Around him the knights in their armor clanked and rustled as they climbed into their saddles. Uther was already mounted, his coronet glinting dimly beneath his helmet, his sword belt cinched with the symbol for Lloegyr. He rode up to the Blackbird, towering above the palfrey on his black warhorse.
“Do you have it?” he snapped.
For answer, the Blackbird held up the ugly iron amulet, dangling on its chain. Uther seized it and dropped it over his own head. “There,” he muttered. “Safe.”
The Blackbird’s belly quivered with nausea when Uther said that. He wondered why. It could be, he supposed, his alarm at seeing Uther refuse to bend the knee to the priestess. The violation of tradition, the disdain for the authority of the Temple, made him uneasy. Unity was key if Lloegyr was to survive.
He had not wanted to follow Uther and his warriors to confront the Romans. He had met Romans in the past and found them irritatingly condescending, as well as ruthless and frequently treacherous. They possessed no sense of honor that he could detect, which went against every tradition of Camulod. He understood that the Roman triumphs to the north and east had convinced their leader, a man called Claudius, that Lloegyr would be an easy addition to his empire. When his army failed to dominate Lloegyr, Claudius was furious, dispatching entire legions to put down the resistance, employing Saxon mercenaries who were not loath to kill for money. The Blackbird feared that the brutality the Romans had shown to the peasants was only a threat of worse to come.
It was the Lady’s plan, laid long, long ago, that Uther Dragoun should hold off the invaders until Arthur came into his majority. The Blackbird had no regard for Uther’s skills, as either the king or the leader of a war band, but so long as he survived to fight off this incursion, Lloegyr would be safe for the moment.
And when he was victorious in this skirmish, the Blackbird meant to force him, by whatever means he could find, to make obeisance to Priestess Morgana.
Morgana rose early, after very little sleep. Her mind spun, her thoughts battering each other like birds trapped in a net. Should she have ignored what she saw? Should she have warned the Blackbird? Something had stopped the words rising to herlips. Was it fear of what the Blackbird might say to her, or was it an instinct to protect Lloegyr? Part of her marveled that the Blackbird had not sensed Uther’s deceit. Perhaps he was not as sensitive as he had once been. A different part of her feared that if she had told him everything, if he knew what she had learned, he would intercede in some clumsy way, and her own intention would be foiled.
She strode out of the keep through the farmer’s gate, ignoring the beauty of the courtine glittering in the radiance of the rising sun. The woods beckoned, and she walked without a destination, following a winding path that eventually brought her to the shore of Ilyn. She stood gazing out at the shining water. With a hand on the Lady’s sigil, she lifted her face into the dawn breeze and closed her eyes. She whispered, “Show me how to protect the true king from this treachery.”
The loud flapping of wings, very close, made her open her eyes.
