take advantage of his mistake.”
They all looked to Arthur. It was not until later that Merlin thought how strange it was that the three of them should turn to the boy so naturally. Nor did Arthur seem to find it unusual that he should be the one to take charge. “Now that they are here,” he said pleasantly, “it would be a shame to lose Morgause’s company too quickly. Do you think she would like to spend some time at Avalon?”
For the first time Igraine regarded her son with approval. “Very good. We can give it out that Morgause has a desire to visit her old home.”
Uther was frowning. “It is a good idea.” He shifted his weight in his chair as if he were uncomfortable, and Igraine’s eyes sharpened. He gave her a faint reassuring smile before he went on, “We’ll send Morgause and the boys off tomorrow, as soon as the council gets under way. We don’t want to give Lot time to act.”
“Are we to carry them off kicking and screaming?” Merlin asked sourly.
“Of course not, Father. We have more finesse than that. I will think up some story to convince Morgause that it is Lot’s wish that she go. She is easy to satisfy.” Igraine raised a finely groomed black eyebrow. “In fact, I wager she’ll be delighted to go. A few weeks’ respite from the rigors of the north will look very attractive to my dear sister. She spent two hours at the baths this afternoon. In Lothian they must make do with a miserable tin tub before a fire.”
“It is only for a little while, sir,” Arthur said to his grandfather. “Just until Lot and his men are safely back in Lothian. Then Morgause and her sons can go home.”
Merlin sighed. “Oh, very well. But I do not want Morgause or the children frightened.”
“Neither do we,” said Uther. He let a little pause fall before he changed the subject. “Now, about tomorrow . . .”
The chamber of the Civitates was filled the following morning when Merlin entered to take his place on one of the benches by the dais. He had brought Cai and Ector with him even though they could not vote. He thought Arthur would appreciate seeing a few familiar faces in the crowd. The one person Merlin knew his grandson would most like to be present was barred from the all-male assembly. In fact, Morgan would not even be in Venta by the time this meeting was concluded. They had decided last night that she should accompany Morgause and her sons to Avalon.
The chamber of the Civitates was a smaller and poorer version of the Senate building in Rome. The chamber was a single rectangular room, heated in winter by a hypocaust and cooled in summer by a series of small windows placed high along the walls of the long sides of the building. There was a dais on one short wall, with a chair set for the presiding officer. In the days of Rome the officer had been the provincial governor, the vicarius. Today it was the high king.
The main door of the building was on the wall facing the dais and it was through this door that Merlin and his companions entered. There was one other small door behind the dais, placed in order to allow the provincial governor to escape without having to encounter the Civitates’ members on his way to the door. At one time a purple wall hanging had concealed the door, but the wall hanging had gone long before the last of the legions pulled out of Britain.
The two long walls of the room were flanked with benches, and on these benches sat the kings and princes and chiefs of the various kingdoms and tribes of Britain. As Merlin took his seat his eyes went along the benches, mentally noting who was present and who was likely to prove friend or foe.
The three Welsh kings were there, Maelgwyn of Gwynedd, Magach of Powys, and Ban of Dyfed. All three of them had brought their sons, the princes of their line. Merlin’s eye was particularly caught by one of Ban’s sons. He was a magnificent-looking boy: big, golden-haired, blue-eyed, a pure Celt. They held very much to the old
They all looked to Arthur. It was not until later that Merlin thought how strange it was that the three of them should turn to the boy so naturally. Nor did Arthur seem to find it unusual that he should be the one to take charge. “Now that they are here,” he said pleasantly, “it would be a shame to lose Morgause’s company too quickly. Do you think she would like to spend some time at Avalon?”
For the first time Igraine regarded her son with approval. “Very good. We can give it out that Morgause has a desire to visit her old home.”
Uther was frowning. “It is a good idea.” He shifted his weight in his chair as if he were uncomfortable, and Igraine’s eyes sharpened. He gave her a faint reassuring smile before he went on, “We’ll send Morgause and the boys off tomorrow, as soon as the council gets under way. We don’t want to give Lot time to act.”
“Are we to carry them off kicking and screaming?” Merlin asked sourly.
“Of course not, Father. We have more finesse than that. I will think up some story to convince Morgause that it is Lot’s wish that she go. She is easy to satisfy.” Igraine raised a finely groomed black eyebrow. “In fact, I wager she’ll be delighted to go. A few weeks’ respite from the rigors of the north will look very attractive to my dear sister. She spent two hours at the baths this afternoon. In Lothian they must make do with a miserable tin tub before a fire.”
“It is only for a little while, sir,” Arthur said to his grandfather. “Just until Lot and his men are safely back in Lothian. Then Morgause and her sons can go home.”
Merlin sighed. “Oh, very well. But I do not want Morgause or the children frightened.”
“Neither do we,” said Uther. He let a little pause fall before he changed the subject. “Now, about tomorrow . . .”
The chamber of the Civitates was filled the following morning when Merlin entered to take his place on one of the benches by the dais. He had brought Cai and Ector with him even though they could not vote. He thought Arthur would appreciate seeing a few familiar faces in the crowd. The one person Merlin knew his grandson would most like to be present was barred from the all-male assembly. In fact, Morgan would not even be in Venta by the time this meeting was concluded. They had decided last night that she should accompany Morgause and her sons to Avalon.
The chamber of the Civitates was a smaller and poorer version of the Senate building in Rome. The chamber was a single rectangular room, heated in winter by a hypocaust and cooled in summer by a series of small windows placed high along the walls of the long sides of the building. There was a dais on one short wall, with a chair set for the presiding officer. In the days of Rome the officer had been the provincial governor, the vicarius. Today it was the high king.
The main door of the building was on the wall facing the dais and it was through this door that Merlin and his companions entered. There was one other small door behind the dais, placed in order to allow the provincial governor to escape without having to encounter the Civitates’ members on his way to the door. At one time a purple wall hanging had concealed the door, but the wall hanging had gone long before the last of the legions pulled out of Britain.
The two long walls of the room were flanked with benches, and on these benches sat the kings and princes and chiefs of the various kingdoms and tribes of Britain. As Merlin took his seat his eyes went along the benches, mentally noting who was present and who was likely to prove friend or foe.
The three Welsh kings were there, Maelgwyn of Gwynedd, Magach of Powys, and Ban of Dyfed. All three of them had brought their sons, the princes of their line. Merlin’s eye was particularly caught by one of Ban’s sons. He was a magnificent-looking boy: big, golden-haired, blue-eyed, a pure Celt. They held very much to the old
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