The Winter Prince (The Lion Hunters:01)(19)

“Where did you get them?” Lleu asked.

“Mother sends for them. She always keeps peacocks,” Gareth explained.

“They’re beautiful,” Lleu said, his attention fixed on the haughty birds, rapt.

“Mother will be pleased you like them,” Gaheris ventured.

Agravain told him, “Mother didn’t bring these for the prince.” All their conversation ever referred back to you.

They were anxious to test Lleu’s swordsmanship, and over the next week they organized several duels with him. Gwalchmei and I, and sometimes Goewin, would sit on the back wall of the estate as judges, kicking our heels against the dry stone; and on the grass lawn before us Gareth, Gaheris, and Agravain took turns trying to outwit Lleu, and failing. The two younger boys did not seem to mind and enjoyed the challenge and practice. But Agravain was not pleased at being consistently trounced by one younger and slighter than himself.

It chokes me to think of the day you happened upon us during one of these sessions. Agravain could hardly bear for you to watch, and even Gareth began to feel the derision in your gaze. Finally, resting from his last bout, Gaheris asked Lleu, “Could you take on two of us at once?”

“All right,” Lleu said.

“No. Three of us,” Agravain demanded harshly.

“That’s not fair!” said Goewin.

“I’ll do it,” Lleu said amiably.

Only Gareth was dubious. “She’s right.”

“I’ll take on as many as you like,” Lleu said carelessly, and turned to Agravain to ask, “You do want me beaten, don’t you?”

“No, my lord,” Agravain said in blushing apology, caught, while you laughed quietly. “I only thought t Knlylign="o test your skill.”

“I won’t fight three against one,” Gareth said.

“Oh, come on,” Lleu coaxed, confident. “It’s only in play.”

“It’s not fair,” said Gareth.

Agravain argued, “If it’s all right with Lleu, then it’s fair. If Gareth won’t do it, Gwalchmei can.”

“I won’t do it, either,” Gwalchmei said mildly. Artos had already made him one of the Comrades; he had no need to prove himself. “You will have to fend for yourselves.”

“Medraut,” you said suddenly. “You join them.”

“What do you mean, Godmother?” I asked, chilly.

“I’d like to see how your skill compares to the prince’s,” you said.

And I must answer, “He can best me.”

“Oh, Medraut, join us,” Lleu said. “Just this once. It’s only a game.”

“Join them,” you said. It was a command.

I said in a low voice, “Godmother, I would rather not.”

“Don’t glare so,” you said coolly. “Join them.”

Helpless as I was before you always, I had no choice but to obey. In fierce silence I took up one of the wooden swords, and with Gaheris and Agravain took my place opposite Lleu.

He eluded us, foxlike, avoiding and repelling our blows. We might as well try to fight a waterfall. He disarmed Gaheris again and again, and Gaheris admitted defeat when Gwalchmei called out to him, “You’re finished. If it were real swords you’d be dead by now.” And with Gaheris out, Agravain, Lleu, and I were suddenly pitted against one another in earnest, and playing a little desperately.

But Lleu fought me as though we were the only two people in the world. He dealt with Agravain because he had to, fending off his cousin’s blows as though Agravain were no more annoying than an insect, a trifling interruption. Agravain fought doggedly, retrieving his sword twice from the ground, growing more and more irritable. The third time Agravain’s sword went flying across the grass, Lleu stamped furiously on the wooden hilt so that it splintered and cracked before Agravain could pick it up again. Agravain snatched hold of Lleu’s arm, trying to pull him down with his hands.

“Let go!” Lleu cried in a high voice, and when Agravain did not, Lleu suddenly and unexpectedly tumbled to the ground and rolled out of his reach.

“Get out of there,” Goewin shouted. “He’s beaten you.”

Agravain tossed his long, burnished braid pridefully over his shoulder and came away, to slump in silent anger next to his brothers against the stone wall.

Then it was Lleu and I, alone, locked together in silent, furious intensity. The old bitter resentment raged through me: I was stronger and taller and more experienced than Lleu, and I knew I could not win. He must defeat me before you and all your young sons. I fought with passionate disregard for our difference in size, knowing he was my better, and that my strength was my only advantage. But Lleu slipped out of my range, dodged my blows and parried with a ferocity and determination fully equal to my attack. When Lleu at last twisted in underneath my guard and pressed the wooden blade agains K bl with t my throat, I could not bear to prolong this competition. I knelt before him in formal surrender, as before a judge or an executioner, with head bowed and neck bared.