Страница 70 из 114
"When the Saxons are driven back—and we will drive them back, never mistake that outcome—where will these self-anointed Saxon kinglets turn their sword blades? To Eire, King Dallan mac Dalriada, to Eire and her young but already wealthy colony of Dalriada. Morgana would not have war between the Saxons and the Dalriadan Irish with her borders so dangerously close to the war zone, not when alliance between us now can stop such disasters before they have a chance to befall us.
"Why should Morgana send these enemies of Galwyddel north to make war on a people who are, after all, as Celtic as we Britons, sharing in common many things, while the Saxons are alien in their ways, Germanic and barbaric? When their bid to force entrance into Rheged's high council failed, Prince Cutha of Sussex left the royal villa in a state of rage and burned the farmholds and villages for a terrible swath of miles, butchering every man, woman, and infant in his path. To have seen little children"—he glanced at a girl of perhaps five seated cross-legged near the princess' feet—"literally cut into pieces and flung about the kitchen yard like so much spoiled meat for the hogs..."
He shuddered, quite convincingly. "When we Britons drive these bastards into the sea, they will come at Irish coasts, butcher Irish girls and lads barely old enough to toddle across a floor. This, too, Queen Morgana refuses to allow. Should Britain sit back on its laurels and do nothing when Saxons rip apart the Irish coastal villages and farmholds? Should Britain do nothing at all when Saxons strike Dalriada, stirring up so much trouble with the Picts that Irish men-at-arms will find themselves struggling to survive on two fronts, against Saxons and Pictish insurrection?
"Alliance will give Galwyddel and Dalriada strong partners to keep the Saxons out of northern Britain and Scotti-land. Alliance will give Dalriada access to much more than mutual protection from this new enemy. We have brought gifts, tokens of the trade Dalriada may secure for herself with the far-flung lands of the Roman Empire. British crews can teach Irish captains the trading routes and the languages in which to do the bargaining. Here," he had one of the sailors open the heavy chest, "are tokens of what treasures may be found in the ports British ships enter every year."
He took out a section of elephant tusk, raw ivory cut from an African beast's jaws, and several items fashioned from another length of that same tusk: delicately carved bracelets and boxes with pierced-work patterns in Celtic scrollwork design, combs for a lady's hair, amber from the far north, raw pieces and a necklace of matched amber beads wrapped round with gold wire. Black sable furs caught and cured by trappers deep in the land that Ba
Deeper in the chest, he lifted out a ladies' gown in a delicate, porcelain-thin shade of lavender and ornamented with Celtic embroidery, with tiny freshwater seed pearls sewn to the embroidered bodice. Well worthy of adorning the wealthiest of queens, the gown had been commissioned by Ganhumara, the seamstress had explained, but it had ended up in Morgana's basket, with the donation of a very heavy purse and the suggestion that Ganhumara be told the gown had been ruined during the sewing.
When Medraut's new Irish queen appeared wearing it, there would be trouble, all right, trouble that Morgana, at least, seemed quite able to take in stride. If Lailoken had read the situation correctly, the purloined gown was Morgana's way of saying, "Interfere in my nephew's life and my business again and I shall gladly see you ruined, as easily I plucked this bauble out of your grasp."
Lailoken thought the joke enormously fu
So did Ba
The princess, forgetting the formal protocols of court business, came around her father's throne like a bow shot, exclaiming over the gown, its iridescent sheen of color, its texture and the soft, sensual feel of the silk under her fingers. "What is it?" she asked in an awed voice, her Brythonic as fluent as Riona's. "I have never seen its like!"
The other women had gathered to feel the softness and exclaim over it.
Medraut rose gallantly to the occasion. "It is called silk. The people of a country far, far to the east spin it, they say, from the cocoons of special caterpillars. We traded for the silk from Constantinople, which trades with lands as far as can be imagined. The master seamstress of Caerleul, who sews the gowns for Queen Thaney of Rheged and Queen Ganhumara of Caer-Guendoleu, turns raw silk into artwork for the finest ladies to wear."
The girl was enchanted with the gown, holding it up to herself and swirling about to see how it moved, eyes sparkling like liquid sunlight at the result. The pale lavender hue had been a fortuitous choice, complementing the girl's coloring divinely. And Ganhumara and the Irish heiress were of close enough size that the gown should fit strikingly well. Even her father unbent enough to smile a little at her open delight. Lailoken decided the moment was auspicious to complete Morgana's message.
"These gifts are yours, whatever you decide in the matter of alliance, but Queen Morgana hopes they will serve as a token of the bride fortune Galwyddel offers for the Dalriadan heiress' marriage to Medraut. Queen Morgana has proposed that she meet the King of Dalriada and his lovely daughter in person, along the shore of Galwyddel, at the standing stone circle of Lochmaben, on the next full moon night. The king is invited to bring his councillors and armed retainers, if that is his pleasure, but for her part, Queen Morgana has faith in the open-handed offer she has made and will wait at the Lochmaben Stones without resorting to armed escort at her back.
"She trusts, as well, that you will understand any mischief which might befall her would be repaid by her brother, Artorius, the Dux Bellorum of all the Britons, who has led British armies to victory in eleven battles against the Saxons. This is the double message she sends, offerings of gentle alliance, backed with the might of Briton military strength, a strength which can assist allies as readily as it can threaten enemies. Thus speaks Queen Morgana of Galwyddel and Ynys Manaw, to her brother king of Dalriada and his lovely heiress."
He gave them a formal bow, then waited.
Riona Damhnait translated the long speech, speaking with great care to choose the correct nuances of meaning, that much was obvious in both her expression and the lovely princess', as well, since she, too, had understood every word Lailoken had uttered. He wondered briefly why the girl had learned Brythonic, but her father had not. Ah, well, who could explain the oddities of Irish custom?
King Dallan mac Dalriada listened with hooded eyes, although the occasional quirk of brow or lips betrayed surprise. When the translation ended, he glanced curiously at Medraut and Lailoken, then gave a lengthy response. Riona Damhnait gave them both a smile and said, "King Dallan will consider very carefully your offer of alliance and thanks you for the honor to his royal house and to his heiress. He offers his hospitality in return for the duration of this storm and suggests that you must be cold and miserable in your wet clothing. Servants will take you to guest quarters, where you may change into warm and dry garments and unpack your things from your wet baggage.
"King Dallan will order a great feast tonight, to honor your presence and your generous offer. The sailors will be shown every courtesy, as well, in the servants' quarters, with dry clothing, a warm fire, and plenty to eat. If the others from the ship wish to warm themselves, as well, they are welcome at the fortress or at any cottage in the village." Her lips quirked briefly. "King Dallan understands that yon captain may be wary of leaving his boat unma