Chapter 34

34

I ntending to seek Freydis, Gwendolyn strode with purpose from her grandfather's war room, her steps measured, her mouth drawn with concern.

So it appeared, every good-turn bore its equal in bad fortune. She'd won Baugh's favor, but no sooner had she done so when they were presented with news that did not bode well. Evidently, Locrinus had not been idle. Nor had he, as Gwendolyn had once hoped, failed to prepare his stronghold for the winter. He'd planted crops early, harvested early, and now his men were hustling to reinforce his fortress walls. Having also taken lessons from Trevena and Loegria, he was using the nearby river to moat his hill fort, and the land itself to aid him in his defenses—a fact that Caradoc had sorely underestimated.

Gwendolyn still did not know whether he had conscripted Brigantes, but, emboldened by his brother's affiliation with Baugh, he was sending emissaries into the north to see who could be won to his side. A skiff arrived from one of Baugh's camps on the mainland, carrying two of Locrinus' scouts, who were intercepted en route to Skerrabra—perhaps in search of Albanactus. Though, of course, Albanactus was not in Skerrabra, and considering Gwendolyn's presence in the village, neither did he present himself along with his captives. But clearly, he valued his new position with Baugh more than he did his own brother because it was "Alba's" warriors who'd seized those scouts, dispatching them by boat to Skerrabra. Baugh then placed both into a cell, but not before "persuading" them to speak. Either they were lying, or she'd have a far greater challenge in defeating Loc.

She encountered Bryn along with his mother near the lady's solar, and, seeing Gwendolyn's face, he gave Lady Ruan a peck upon the cheek, excusing himself, then drawing Gwendolyn aside, leaving his mother to return to her work.

"What is it? I know that look," pressed Bryn.

"Baugh has two prisoners in a gaol —Loc's men."

"Here?"

"Yes, Bryn, of course. Where else? Albanactus' men discovered them poking about and sent them to Baugh."

His brow furrowed. "But that is fortuitous, no?"

"Yes," Gwendolyn agreed. "But the news from Plowonida is not so good. We have no inkling yet of Loc's true numbers, but we know he has strengthened his position and he'll not be so easy to oust. I fear that with his greater advantage, he will only need to wait us out. The fenlands will not be easy for us to lay siege to, and if he is content enough to remain behind those walls, we'll hold little advantage."

"It doesn't matter how well he has positioned himself. He cannot garrison ten thousand behind his walls."

"How can you be sure? He only had to rebuild. Caradoc did all the work for him, carting in stones."

Bryn lifted a brow. "You did not see Plowonida before Loc took it. I did. There is a reason Caradoc hid in the fens."

Gwendolyn nodded. This made sense, and already Bryn was earning his keep as mester. She exhaled a breath she did not realize she'd held.

"Will Baugh keep those men imprisoned?"

"In truth, that is why I am here. I would speak with Freydis. So I am told, it is her Konsel that should decide what to do with those men, and I mean to plead with her not to release them—which I do not believe she would do anyway, because she would not endanger Baugh by allowing those men to return to Locrinus with news that I am here, or that Baugh has pledged his men. But I do not wish for her to execute them either. They are simply doing what they have been told to do, and Baugh assures me that both men confessed quickly, as men are wont to do when they have no stake in the outcome—that, else their information was meant to be planted, and Baugh does not believe that is true."

"Freydis leads the Konsel?"

Gwendolyn nodded impatiently. It had surprised her, too. "Here, the Konsel is called a Thing," she revealed. "But is this all you have taken from my news?"

Bryn scratched his head, looking abashed. "It is… unheard of."

"Apparently not for these northern tribes," Gwendolyn allowed.

According to Baugh, their women "led the men about by their cocks," and the men "shut their mouths and did what they were told." Gwendolyn knew that was intended to be in jest, but unlike the southern tribes, Baugh's armies did not exclude women, and because the men were the ones who were usually gone, their women were empowered to govern in their absence, and most of the men were content enough to leave it to the women, trusting them to do what was necessary, instead of shifting the burden of rule unnecessarily. This way, when the men returned, they could rest on their laurels, drink to their hearts' content, and come and go as they pleased without having to concern themselves with everyday matters—and truly, those audiences could be time consuming. Her father used to spend many, many hours every day only listening to grievances.

"Well… that… is… quite… odd," said Bryn, lifting the back of his hand and swiping it across his forehead as he sometimes did when he was confused, or didn't agree with something and didn't know what else to say.

It was her turn to lift a brow. "Do you doubt a woman's ability to govern?"

"Oh, nay!" he was quick to say, and perhaps remembering who he was speaking to, he added, "Of course not! As I've said, it is simply… odd."

Indeed, it was, but not for long. Gwendolyn intended to make changes when she returned to Trevena. For one, she would see that Cornish women like Taryn were no longer outliers. If they wished to serve in her army, they should.

She also intended to make certain women had the right to divorce their spouses—for obvious reasons—and the right to keep lands thereafter, and to sit upon Konsels, not as consorts but as alders in their own rights.

As Bryok's wife, Ia, once did, women shouldn't have to flee their lives only to leave their husbands—not that Ia had intended to do that, in truth. Those two had meant to run away together—poor souls—but there should be some legal recourse for women so they could live their lives unyoked, if they so pleased.

However, Bryn was not the person she should speak to about this—not at this point in his life. He had no wife, and though he'd sworn fealty to a woman, and never once seemed to disdain this, he had also never taken Gwendolyn overly seriously, or he'd never have lied to her the first time, thinking it necessary to protect her from herself. That sort of behavior must end.

Now.

She gave him a direct order, and her tone brooked no argument. "Say your farewells to your lady mother. Then find Emrys and return to camp. It is time you assumed command as mester. I mean for us to depart at once."

And then Gwendolyn excused herself, without lingering, to see that he obeyed. She sought Freydis, finding her at work in her solar, where they spoke at length and the elder woman listened, nodding. When Gwendolyn was through speaking, she said, her eyes shining, "We will keep them through the spring, and then, if they mean to go, I will allow it. Now, go in peace, dótturbarn , and leave it with me." She smiled then, and Gwendolyn thanked her and left. Something had changed for Gwendolyn during this time in her grandfather's village. The fight with Locrinus had become not merely a vendetta, but truly a fight for freedom. She was not so magnanimous as to believe herself free of the need for retribution, but she could not fail to note the part her own father had played in the land's decline. And so much of Esme's counsel now rang true. Her father's dream for Cornwall might have been a beauteous dream, but every one of these tribes had been given their own lands to dream for, and those dreams must not be invalidated only because those provinces were not as big, or so wealthy, or so favored. The Brothers' Pact had been enacted for a reason. According to the highest law of this code, no King's right to rule was absolute, and no tribe of Pretania could occupy lands not their own—that included Cornwall. Once this war was over, Gwendolyn would consider it her duty to enforce the Brothers' Pact, but, as any parent must do, thereafter, she must leave the tribes to forge their own way—and that included Baugh.

Therefore, if he wished to give every square measure of his lands to Albanactus, she would not intervene. She only hoped Baugh knew what he was doing, because following his death, if Kamber took Westwalas, and Albanactus took Caledonia, Brutus' youngest sons would prove a powerful force in this realm, accomplishing even what Locrinus and her father could not.

And for what? Albanactus had not agreed to raise arms against either of his brothers. He would only assent to abstain from the fight. In return, Baugh had awarded him yet another province to govern as vassal only unto him, giving him full half his mainland territories, along with a blood oath for the bequeathal of Skerrabra once he was gone.

Gwendolyn had asked what assurance they had that Albanactus would not warn Locrinus, and Baugh only grinned, explaining that the daughter he'd wed to the man would slice his throat whilst he slept before allowing him to betray an oath to her father. However, Albanactus would never betray him, he was certain, because he stood to lose too much. Nor was he welcome to return to his brother's holdings after removing two valuable hostages from Trevena on the eve of the Feast of Blades.

Baugh also did not have sons, and he liked Albanactus.

Although it galled Gwendolyn that Loc's brother would receive anything after his part in her father's death and Trevena's capture, she would not challenge her grandfather's edicts—in part, because she had promised her mother that she would at least try to forgive Albanactus. But in greater part because Gwendolyn viewed this as another test from Baugh—to see if she would keep her word and withhold from meddling in his affairs. He had agreed to lend his sword under the express condition that, once the battle was done, Gwendolyn would return to her holdings in the south and renounce any claim to Baugh's territories in the north.

"The north is not for you," he'd said, and Gwendolyn could not help but take a little offense, because Baugh did not know her, and she did not like that he would overlook his own blood to award lands to an Outlander—he had eight daughters! And regardless that he would give some pretense at allowing them to govern in his absence, he would do the same to his daughters as her father had done to her.

It was an easy promise to make. Although Gwendolyn had not realized she'd meant it at the time she'd said it, she was coming to understand that her father's dream of a united Pretania was impossible. To borrow from King Corineus' words of wisdom, the most anyone could ever hope to gain from these tribes—all of them, not simply those in the north—was to form powerful alliances, and to work together for peace.

Also, the longer Gwendolyn spent with the northern tribes, the more she understood how difficult it would be for any sovereign to rule fairly or wisely amidst so many disparate peoples. They were fiercely independent and not so easily convinced. Indeed, it proved no simple task to conscript warriors, even with Baugh at her side—even with Málik's Fae and the Sword of Light in her scabbard.

Gwendolyn, Málik, and Amergin rode with Baugh, paying every thane a call to persuade them to join her cause. She met with all six remaining Confederate tribes—the Novantae, Selgovae, Votadini, Venicones, Vacomagi, and Taexali. And thereafter, she met with some of the lesser thanes as well.

True to their words, both Amergin and Emrys proved helpful, giving Gwendolyn magnificent endorsements. And, when one of the lesser thanes took offense over Gwendolyn's affiliation with Locrinus, calling her an Outlander by virtue of their marriage, it was Emrys who reassured that man that Gwendolyn was no longer attached to the Usurper. She knew in her heart she would never have convinced the first without her grandfather's aid, but when all was said and done, the Caledonii had supplied two thousand men; the Novantae more than five hundred; the Selgovae, seven hundred and fifty; the Votadini, three hundred; the Venicones, twelve hundred; the Vacomagi, two hundred; and the Taexali, three hundred and fifty. Another two hundred joined them from the lesser-known tribes.

And now, for the first time since the Feast of Blades, she had an excellent chance to see justice done.

It took three weeks for them to gather the full regiment, but once they were congregated on the mainland, it was time to go. To wait any longer would make the journey difficult. Already, it was the ides of November and wet though the weather might be at this time of the year, snow was not yet inevitable, and they would have plenty of time to make it to Parisi lands, even with shorter days.

At best, they would have nine good hours of sunlight to travel by, and if they traveled well, it would be winter by the time they arrived near Petvaria, the largest of the Parisi hill forts.

Departing with an army of nearly seven thousand, the ground trembled beneath their feet as swordsmen, axe men, spearmen, and archers fell behind Gwendolyn—a sight to behold, with banners of differing colors and sizes snapping in the wind, each representing a northern tribe. But the most incredible thing of all… at their head, rode… a woman.

Not Baugh.

Not Málik.

Gwendolyn .

Smiling, because there were those who said this could not be done, she sat taller in the saddle, shoulders back, chin up, head high, filling her lungs with the indomitable scent of hope—purple moor-grass, cocksfoot and wood-sedge—pure and sweet, all untainted by the scent of decay.