Ides of the May (Children of the May 2 - updates weekly)

Chapter Nine: A Second Council of War

‘She won’t be pleased to see me.’ There was a whining, childish tone in my voice. ‘She’ll think that the fact I’m alive and my sisters are dead is a crime against nature and justice.’

He smiled to himself. ‘You’re refusing my first order? Some general I am. I understand that it’s hard for you, but you’re the best chance we have.’

‘I’m not refusing.’ I tried to calm myself. ‘Just making a suggestion. I’ll go to the Lake, but I’ll not show myself to Mother. The smith, Martha, she was a friend to me. She might tell me something about the sword. Send Bellina to my mother by all means, but let me go to Martha in secret. We have signals we once used.’

He nodded sharply, agreeing to my suggestion. I began to climb back down the rocks.

‘The less Bellina knows about our plan the better,’ Mordred said behind me. ‘We don’t want your mother reading her mind.’

I sniggered. ‘Goodness knows what horrors she’d find in there. Bellina’s brain might be enough to turn even Lady Nemue mad.’

* * *

The room fell silent when we entered. They were much as I had left them, sitting round in small groups. Elia was playing something on her harp. Garnish was cooking something delicious-smelling in an oven I hadn’t noticed earlier. Palomina was there; John of the Marsh had relieved her from guarding Sir Dinadan. They all turned to us, their eyes registering shock that Mordred was standing in the doorway. He hadn’t joined them in their communal hall for quite some time. Melwas gave him a long, searching look. He nodded at her solemnly.

‘Everyone,’ said Mordred. ‘Now that Drift’s back it’s time to talk about our next moves.’

The tension in the room relaxed as Garnish served our dinner, a creamy fish stew made with freshwater trout that Piers assured me he had caught in a nearby river, and vegetables that couldn’t possibly have been grown in the land thereabouts. I blinked, and when I opened my eyes a round dinner table, big enough for us all to squeeze around, had appeared in the room. It was loaded with breads and cakes, jugs of water and ale. Epicene pressed my arm as we took our seats.

‘Garnish has a minor magic, water-mage.’

‘And a pleasant one,’ I replied frostily, worried about our prisoner. ‘More pleasant that either of ours, perhaps. How is Sir Dinadan?’

She smiled broadly. ‘He is well. A most interesting man.’

‘What did you do to him?’

‘I? Nothing, Drift.’

‘I still can’t sense your magic, Epicene. How have you hidden it from me?’

She tilted her head enigmatically, and did not answer. Her big black pupils searched out the edges of my glamour. I knew she had never worn one, and wondered if she was judging me.

Epicene sat on my left, while Palomina squeezed into the stool on my right side. Mordred sent Garnish to take bowls of the stew to John and our prisoner while the rest of us ate and drank. The mood became even more convivial as we ate, although there was an awkwardness between Melwas and Mordred. While the rest of us were squeezed together by necessity, they maintained a gap between each other, and rarely spoke.

When we had finished eating, Mordred pushed his plate away, and the room fell silent, all apart from Aglinda, who was chattering away to Christian in a kind of childish gobbledygook that delighted the boy. It took her a good while to realise that the frown Norma had been giving her throughout the meal was now replicated by other, silent faces. Mordred, however, did not frown; when Aglinda finally stopped talking, he winked at her.