Bernard Cornwell Warlord 3 Excalibur

[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

She turned back to the window and let the brown robe drop. I haven t been a good mother, she said
unexpectedly. I did not know what to say, so said nothing. I had never been close to Guinevere, indeed
she treated me with the same rough mix of affection and derision that she might have extended to a stupid
but willing dog, but now, perhaps because she had no one else with whom to share her thoughts, she
offered them to me. I don t even like being a mother, she admitted. These women, now, she indicated
Morgan s white-robed women who hurried through the snow between the shrine s buildings, they all
worship motherhood, but they re all as dry as husks. They weep for their Mary and tell me that only a
mother can know true sadness, but who wants to know that? She asked the question fiercely. It s all
such a waste of life! She was bitterly angry now. Cows make good mothers and sheep suckle perfectly
adequately, so what merit lies in motherhood? Any stupid girl can become a mother! It s all that most of
them are fit for! Motherhood isn t an achievement, it s an inevitability! I saw she was weeping despite
her anger.
But it was all Arthur ever wanted me to be! A suckling cow!
No, Lady, I said.
She turned on me angrily, her eyes bright with tears. You know more than I about this, Derfel?
He was proud of you, Lady, I said awkwardly. He revelled in your beauty.
He could have had a statue made of me if that s all he wanted! A statue with milk ducts that he could
clamp his infants onto!
He loved you, I protested.
She stared at me and I thought she was about to erupt into a blistering anger, but instead she smiled
wanly. He worshipped me, Derfel, she said tiredly, and that is not the same thing as being loved. She
sat suddenly, collapsing onto a bench beside the wooden chest. And being worshipped, Derfel, is very
tiresome. But he seems to have found a new goddess now.
He s done what, Lady?
You didn t know? She seemed surprised, then plucked up the letter. Here, read it.
I took the parchment from her. It carried no date, just the superscription Moridunum, showing that it
had been written from Oengus mac Airem s capital. The letter was in Arthur s solid handwriting and was
as cold as the snow that lay so thick on the windowsill. You should know, Lady, he had written, that I
am renouncing you as my wife and taking Argante, daughter of Oengus mac Airem, instead. I do not
renounce Gwydre, only you. That was all. It was not even signed.
You really didn t know? Guinevere asked me.
No, Lady, I said. I was far more astonished than Guinevere. I had heard men say that Arthur should
take another wife, but he had said nothing to me and I felt oifended that he had not trusted me. I felt
offended and disappointed. I didn t know, I insisted.
Someone opened the letter, Guinevere said in wry amusement. You can see they left a smudge of
dirt on the bottom. Arthur wouldn t do that. She leaned back so that her springing red hair was crushed
against the wall. Why is he marrying? she asked.
I shrugged. A man should be married, Lady.
Nonsense. You don t think any the less of Galahad because he s never married.
A man needs . . . I began, then my voice tailed away.
I know what a man needs, Guinevere said with amusement. But why is Arthur marrying now? You
think he loves this girl?
I hope so, Lady.
She smiled. He s marrying, Derfel, to prove that he doesn t love me.
I believed her, but I dared not agree with her. I m sure it s love, Lady, I said instead.
She laughed at that. How old is this Argante?
Fifteen? I guessed. Maybe only fourteen?
She frowned, thinking back. I thought she was meant to marry Mordred?
I thought so too, I answered, for I remembered Oengus offering her as a bride to our King.
But why should Oengus marry the child to a limping idiot like Mordred when he can put her into
Arthur s bed? Guinevere said. Only fifteen, you think?
If that.
Is she pretty?
I ve never seen her, Lady, but Oengus says she is.
The Ui Liathain do breed pretty girls, Guinevere said. Was her sister beautiful?
Iseult? Yes, in a way.
This child will need to be beautiful, Guinevere said in an amused voice. Arthur won t look at her
otherwise. All men have to envy him. That much he does demand of his wives. They must be beautiful
and, of course, much better behaved than I was. She laughed and looked sideways at me. But even if
she s beautiful and well behaved it won t work, Derfel.
It won t?
Oh, I m sure the child can spit out babies for him if that s what he wants, but unless she s clever he ll
get very bored with her. She turned to gaze into the fire. Why do you think he wrote to tell me?
Because he thinks you should know, I said.
She laughed at that. I should know? Why do I care if he beds some Irish child? I don t need to know, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

Podstrony