He flung her away from him with such force that she was thrown off her stool and slid across the flagstoned floor. Her mouth sagged open in amazement, and tears started to leak from her eyes.
‘You can save your tricks for one who does not know them for what they are. Gawayne’s wife is worth ten of you, and yet you take joy in her tears. You are idle, useless, stupid, boring and sterile. You are my hair shirt, as the monks would say.’
Artor’s expression was flat, cold and merciless. Suddenly, her blood ran like ice through her veins. Did he suspect that she spent her nights in the stables with Gawayne? Had that sorcerer devil, Myrddion, discovered her amusements? What would Artor really do if he found out?
‘You have never loved me, Artor, so why should you care what I do?’
‘You are my queen, woman. I warn you now that I will burn you at the stake for impugning my honour if you stray from your vows and I am forced to wear the horns of a cuckold. Don’t test my resolve. Your father would himself light the fire that burns the soul of a whore.’
Artor turned on his heels and marched out of the apartments, leaving his wife bruised, shaken and yet, regardless of her terrors, still burning for revenge. I will let Gawayne keep his plain little wife, she thought resentfully. I can wait. He will tire of her quickly enough, and Artor will be off soon on his summer campaign. I can wait for years if I must.
And then, because nothing could ever really be her fault, she blamed her husband’s age for her barren state, and swore that she would foist a bastard upon him at the first opportunity.
‘Then we’ll see who is stupid,’ she shouted aloud, and hugged herself with secret glee.
Most of the citizens who made up the population of the citadel saw the fingerprint bruises on Wenhaver’s painted face, and smirked behind their hands. Wenhaver was despised and feared within the fortress, so any discomfort that came her way was viewed as being her just desserts.
‘She must have really asked for it this time,’ Gruffydd said conversationally to his fellows once he was free to eat his evening meal and drink a jug of cider with Artor’s bodyguard. ‘That slut is a fair trial. I’d put nothing past her!’
‘Gawayne doesn’t let any parts of her pass him by either,’ one wag retorted, to a roar of ribald laughter.
Gruffydd paled and rose to his feet, his cup spilling on the rough table top.
‘You’re foolish to make jokes about infidelity and the queen in the same breath. If he ever considered the queen to be dishonourable, Lord Artor would be forced to execute her. Our whole world would fragment, and the Saxons would quickly come calling. Neither Leodegran nor Lot would accept the execution of their children for adultery or treason, and that would be the result if Artor believed that Gawayne was bedding the queen.’
‘Aye, you’re correct in what you say, Gruff,’ the joker replied, his face suddenly sombre. ‘Why couldn’t our murderer have killed the queen before he left Cadbury far behind? We’d all be better off. ’
Odin shook his huge head. ‘The beast has not gone from Cadbury, and nor will the queen change her wicked ways,’ Odin said softly to Percivale and Gareth when they were alone. ‘Artor’s kingdom unravels already as his luck deserts him and runs away like water. But I will always be Artor’s man and, when the time comes, I will die for him.’
‘As will we all,’ whispered Percivale.
And Gareth spoke like an echo. ‘As will we all.’
CHAPTER XIX
ENDINGS AND BEGINNINGS
No thoughts of death or infidelity troubled Enid’s mind as spring brought forth its full promise of flowers, newly greening fields, and a child that was quickening within her womb. Like everybody in the fortress, she consulted Lord Myrddion whenever she felt unwell, and she went to see him because she couldn’t bear to eat a morsel of food in the mornings. She was becoming paler and more wan by the day.
‘I rejoice for you, Lady Enid,’ Myrddion congratulated the young woman once she had described her symptoms with many blushes and much embarrassment. ‘Your husband will be a king one day, and your child will follow in his footsteps, should Fortuna grant you the boon of a son.’
Enid stroked the tiny swelling of her belly, and Nimue felt a visceral stab of envy as she ground the preparation of dried herbs to cure the morning sickness. How she yearned to be gravid with child to a man such as Myrddion.
‘I hope my lord Gawayne will share my joy. He is distracted at times, but he is really a very good husband. And King Lot will be pleased at our news, for he has desired a grandson since we were first wed.’
Enid was looking remarkably pretty. Her long, plaited hair was bound with a yellow ribbon that gave its soft colour a richer glow. Small spirals of curls had escaped her braids, and they framed her face. She was slender and fine-boned, and her countenance reflected her contentment and completion.
‘You can see, Lady Enid, how my excellent apprentice is likely to put me out to pasture soon, just like an old horse,’ Myrddion said. ‘She has prepared a mixture of dried herbs for you that you must drink with very hot water in the mornings, and whenever you feel the nausea coming on. You must eat well and get some colour back into your pretty cheeks.’
Nimue felt a stab of envy as Myrddion fussed over Enid. He never treated her like fragile glass, nor did he stroke her cheek in that gentle fashion which was peculiarly his own.
Then, because Nimue was a fair-minded young woman, and because it was impossible to dislike Enid with her sweet ways and pliant nature, she smiled at the young mother-to-be, offered her congratulations and put the ground herbs into a cloth bag.
‘You need have no fears, Lady Enid,’ Nimue reassured their patient. ‘These herbs will not harm your child, and you will soon be blooming. I will act as your midwife when your time approaches, for my master has trained me well, and I predict you will bear a beautiful son for your husband.’
‘I am in your debt, Lady Nimue, and I thank you for your kindness.’ Enid smiled her appreciation. ‘I am glad now that I never believed any of the horrible things that the queen always said about you. My mother warned me to beware of gossip before I came to Cadbury, and I’ve discovered that she was right.’ She sighed. ‘Queen Wenhaver dislikes me. I have tried and tried to please her, but nothing I do or say seems to have any effect on the way she treats me.’
Nimue pressed Enid’s narrow hands in commiseration. ‘I suspect that the queen feels chagrin at her childless state. It’s probably best that you feel pity for her if she says anything to hurt you. I find this helps me not to lose my temper with her.’
Enid smiled her appreciation of Nimue’s words, and her rather ordinary features were transformed into a soft but earthy beauty. Impulsively, she embraced the startled apprentice.
‘The people here call you the Maid of Wind and Water, but I don’t find you strange or frightening at all.’
Myrddion smiled indulgently at both young women, although he knew that Nimue was distinctly uncomfortable under Enid’s praise.
‘I’m glad you feel comfortable with me, because I don’t think I’m frightening at all,’ Nimue responded. ‘Unfortunately, I’m a common person, and a barbarian at that. I’m simply Nimue, and any worth I have derives from the status of Master Myrddion.’
Enid squeezed Nimue’s hand to acknowledge her words, before bowing low to Myrddion and tripping out through the doorway.
Myrddion began to laugh. ‘You say that you’re simply Nimue? I doubt your sincerity, for you are far from simple.’
‘Rubbish,’ Nimue snapped. ‘Now I’ll worry about Enid all the time, and I’ll be driven demented trying to live up to her expectations.’ Then she smiled at Myrddion, and the sun seemed to shine more brightly. ‘And I could kill that Wenhaver bitch, if there wasn’t such a long line of volunteers ahead of me,’ Nimue continued, her face pink with indignation and rueful humour. ‘How can she be so cruel to such a gentle creature as Enid?’
Myrddion kept his thoughts to himself.
Gawayne received the news of his wife’s condition with the excess of pride and bravado that is customary with young men who believe that they have fathered the perfect child. He celebrated his good fortune by purchasing a plain, golden band for Enid’s wrist, before becoming royally and expansively drunk with the warriors from his troop.
In her bower, Wenhaver became white with envy at the joyous news. Alone in her rose-scented bed, she prayed that the whey-faced Enid would die unpleasantly in childbirth, and that her cloth-witted lover would choke on his own vomit.
As spring lazed slowly towards summer, Gawayne became a model husband and doted on Enid whose glow of happiness lent Cadbury a festive mood. Gawayne was so attentive that Enid’s heart was wholly lost to him. For the first time in his thoughtless, fickle life, Gawayne was forced to consider the burdens, responsibilities and joys of adulthood. Secretly, he found that he was enjoying the experience, especially the hero worship that his wife gave him so unstintingly. Nimue’s herbs managed to keep the morning sickness at bay and, as the babe grew within her, Enid became even more beautiful. She also became less trusting, for now she had the full measure of the queen. One small exchange had brought out the tigress in the placid Enid.
Wenhaver had been fanning herself in a small arbor that had been built for the queen and her ladies. Artor had insisted on the installation of a fountain, a concept that was alien to Wenhaver but one that she came to prize as the days grew hot and humid. The water splashed from the mouth of a bronze dolphin into a large bowl, whence it overflowed and formed a shallow, pebbled pool where fish darted like silver shadows between the flowering water plants. A dragonfly darted over the water, leaving tiny circlets where it had touched the smooth surface.
‘How hot it is,’ Wenhaver complained to no one in particular. ‘These summer days are so like those hot months before the contagion came. You should be careful, Enid, for Gawayne has no common sense. He’s always off hunting or carousing with the common people, and heaven alone knows what illness he might bring back to you in the fortress. He’s irresponsible!’
Enid laid aside the tiny garment she had been sewing and placed one hand instinctively over the now pronounced swell of her belly.
‘My Gawayne does all that a good man should, Your Majesty. He is a fine husband, and will make an excellent and doting father. As for any contagion, my master would never wish me harm, though we all risk illness every day. I trust in the love of our god.’
‘Your god won’t save you, or any of us, for that matter,’ Wenhaver replied. She was completely unconcerned at the gasp of shock that came from her ladies at her blasphemy.
‘The men of Cadbury are like broken reeds, interested only in war, lovemaking and pleasure. And Gawayne is the same as any other man in this fortress. You shouldn’t rely on him overmuch, Enid, for I know he has left a string of satisfied women from Cadbury to Venta Belgarum and onwards to King Lot’s domain. He was neither born, nor inclined, to cleave to one woman.’
Enid was badly hurt by the queen’s comments, but instead of bowing a docile head, as was her usual custom, she caught the queen’s amused glance and was suddenly very angry.
‘My mother always told me that men are fools in the hands of unscrupulous women,’ Enid responded as demurely as she could. ‘They are so easily manipulated, especially by those vulgar creatures who cannot be content with holding one man of their own. Such whores always seek to steal another woman’s husband away from her to feed their own vanity - or so I have been told by those who should know.’
Wenhaver’s cheeks paled, and her blue eyes narrowed and darkened at the implications of Enid’s insulting words. Did the little mouse suspect her liaison with Gawayne? Or was she simply attacking her because of rumour and innuendo?
‘Those are harsh words, Enid,’ Wenhaver said with cloying sweetness, her mouth pursing dangerously. ‘Are you saying that your husband is a mere toy in the hands of unprincipled women?’
‘Perhaps that would have been the case at one time,’ Enid replied guilelessly. ‘My Gawayne is a dear, sweet boy, even though he is so much older than I am. I believe that all men are boys when they are truly happy, no matter what their age is or how powerful they are. I sincerely hope that you have experienced such felicity with King Artor.’
This barb, delivered so quietly, drove deeply into Wenhaver’s tender ego. She had to force a smile of agreement, for she could not admit that her husband avoided her.
‘Well, don’t say you weren’t warned,’ she replied lightly, while swearing to herself that she would drag Gawayne into her bed as soon as Enid’s condition rendered sex difficult.
Wenhaver was left wondering what Enid had guessed, and the queen’s ladies enjoyed gossiping about her obvious discomfort for several days. Every woman of any wit in the fortress was aware of the queen’s precarious position with her royal husband.
But such exchanges were rare, for Enid spent her days quietly communing with her unborn child as she prepared for the birth, so the summer flew by into another autumn.
One morning, Nimue rose early, long before first light, for she needed to replenish her stocks of lavender, rosemary, rhue and mandrake root. Lavender and rosemary grew in the fortress’s herb garden, and Nimue was almost certain she had spied rhue growing there as well. But mandrake, if it were to be found at all, would only be discovered within the Wildewood. Since she must enter that grim, dark place, Nimue decided to hunt for some of Myrddion’s precious lichens, mushrooms and mosses, for these rare fungi could be turned into medications to cure wounds that stubbornly refused to heal.
Although fears of murder and bloodshed in the community had been largely forgotten, and it was many months since Nimue had given any thought to her demon watcher, she had not forgotten the warnings given by Odin, Gareth, Percivale and Myrddion. The sword of the legions, accompanied by an even smaller hand knife, fitted into her long, shallow basket where they were covered by a small hand trowel. For once, as the day was threatening to be unseasonably warm, Nimue left her dagger behind, and she sallied forth into the early dawn with a broad-brimmed straw hat crammed over her long plaits.