"Have you received any word of Emrys Myrddin's whereabouts?" Ancelotis asked as he strolled up, while watching Covianna closely.
Lovely eyes widened slightly. "No, I haven't. I can't understand what's happened to him. He was so eager to return to Caer-Badonicus when he left the Tor, to oversee final preparations here. I fear bandits may have overpowered him. Or Saxon scouting parties."
Ancelotis narrowed his eyes. The likelihood of Saxons sending a reconnaissance party as far as Glastenning Tor was almost nonexistent, given its distance west and north of Caer-Badonicus. And Badon Hill was—so far as anyone had been able to determine—the farthest west and north any Saxon force had penetrated. "Bandits, more likely," he said coolly. "We'll have to scour the countryside for them, burn them out."
She lowered long, ash-blonde lashes, sipping at her own cup of wine. "Yes, we will. A dreadful business."
Something about her, something Stirling couldn't put a finger on any more than Ancelotis could, was raising his hackles, for no reason he could fathom. Perhaps it was only that she had given Artorius that letter, accusing Morgana of treason. Which was, Ancelotis thought darkly, gut tightening down in dread, the next order of business on the council's agenda. And there was almost nothing he could do to protect her—or Brenna McEgan—if this council decided Morgana was also guilty of treason to Britain. Smuggle her out, perhaps, to live with the Irish...
The council reconvened with a shuffling of feet and a refilling of goblets as servants hurried around with more pitchers of wine. When everyone had returned to their seats, Artorius spoke again. "We have among us guests from the north and west, from Dalriada and Belfast, guests who have been as greatly wronged by the Saxons as we have, here in Britain. At our last high council, we debated the wisdom of making contact with the Irish of Dalriada and found ourselves divided on the matter." A brief smile came and went on the Dux Bellorum's deeply gullied face. Listening in surprise, Ancelotis dared to hope for the first time that Artorius might possibly support Morgana in this.
Artorius gestured to the Irish delegation. "Kings and Queens of the Briton High Council, I formally present to you Dallan mac Dalriada, King of the Irish Scotti clan, and Queen Keelin, daughter and heiress to Dallan mac Dalriada and bride of Medraut, newly crowned King of Galwyddel."
A stir of surprise ran round the room, as the wild rumors were formally confirmed.
"Riona Damhnait, Druidess to King Dallan mac Dalriada, will translate his greeting."
The Druidess rose gracefully, hair caught back in a jeweled net that scattered light in bright sparkles. "I speak for Dallan mac Dalriada, King of the Scotri of Dalriada. Greetings to you, my neighbors and now my kinsmen. The history of our respective peoples has been a violent one, with warfare between us for many generations. Yet we are more like one another than any of us realized, until the coming of the Saxons. This threat touches our hearts deeply, for Saxon treachery has destroyed the capital of Dalriada, four thousand souls murdered by poison poured into the town's wells.
"This creature," she gestured contemptuously toward Lailoken, huddled now along one edge of the room, between his guards, "wormed his way into the confidence of Briton queens and kings, offered himself as go-between in the matter of alliance between Briton Galwyddel and Irish Dalriada. I embraced this alliance with joy, seeing the good it would do all our peoples, Briton and Irish alike, for we all face a rising threat from the Jutland Danes, the Saxons, the Angles from Denmark's Angeln Peninsula, and their cousins of Frisia. I gave my only child, my greatest treasure, in marriage to the king of Galwyddel, to forge an alliance I believed necessary for the safety of both our peoples.
"When this foul poisoner fled," Lailoken withered beneath her cold contempt, trying to cower down through the floor, "betraying Briton and Irish alike, Queen Morgana and King Medraut risked death to warn us of the treachery he had committed. They could have remained silent, could have allowed me to drink from a final, poisoned gift, but rushed to prevent yet more deaths and the senseless blaming of innocents that would surely have occurred, had not their honor driven them to act with greater courage than any I have ever witnessed."
A stir ran through the room, at that, surprise at the candor and the compliments.
The Druidess let the buzz of hushed reaction die down, then continued gravely. "My king, Dallan mac Dalriada says, the murder of four thousand Dalriadan Irish only strengthened my resolve to destroy this Saxon threat to both our peoples. I raised an army from the countryside around Dunadd, sailed for the town of Belfast, where kinsmen joined us to meet these Saxons in battle. And when Artorius' charge scattered the Saxons ahead of him on the plain, we were waiting; Artorius' hammer crushing them against our Irish anvil, preventing their escape. Together, Briton and Irish soldiers kept these Saxons from regrouping elsewhere with a fighting force still capable of waging war."
That point, at least, could not be argued. Stirling had seen it almost at once, so had Ancelotis. Given the look in Artorius' eyes, he could see the truth in it, as well. Without the Irish "anvil" stopping their headlong retreat, the Saxons might well have escaped to regroup elsewhere—making another battle and another after that, for months or years, painfully necessary. Together, they had accomplished something profound.
Riona Damhnait gazed at each of the tables in turn, each of the kings and queens and princes, each of the princesses and royal advisors seated beside and behind them. "We ask only two things of this council. Give this alliance a chance. Honor the pledge these young people have made to one another and to peace between our peoples. Give us a chance to exchange artisans and craftsmen, to send home any Britons who were taken from their homelands while we were enemies, with compensation for them and their families. Give us a chance to marry Irish widows to Briton landsmen, to knit up the damage wrought by war, give us all the chance to build something better in its place. And give us the traitor, Lailoken. I, Dallan mac Dalriada, King of the Scotti clan of Dalriada, thank you for the chance to ask these things, and for the hospitality and honor you have shown us."
The Druidess returned to her seat.
For a moment, absolute silence reigned.
The explosion of voices rattled dust from the rafters. Artorius was on his feet, banging the hilt of his sword against the table, shouting for silence. "Is this the way Britons greet guests and allies?" he snarled into the babble of angry words. "You shame us, shame the good names of your royal families and clans!"
Mutters finally died away into silence once again. Artorius glared around the room, pinning each and every one of them with an icy stare. Cadorius had the good grace to look troubled. But young Clinoch of Strathclyde was on his feet, literally shaking with rage.
"Ally ourselves with the butchers of Dalriada?" the boy spat. "We've fought them across our borders longer than I have been alive! They killed my grandfather's brothers, they've taken our people into slavery, plundered our fishing and trading fleets, and you would ask me to break bread with them? To call them allies? Kinsmen?"
Before anyone could answer the boy's vitriolic burst of hatred, Keelin rose to face him, pale to her very lips. She promptly astonished everyone in the room by speaking fluent Brythonic.
"Honored Clinoch, King of Strathclyde, our nearest Briton neighbor, I beg you to remember that I, too, have lost kinsmen in the wars between Strathclyde and Dalriada. My uncles, my grandfathers, both of my own beloved brothers were killed in the fighting. And our fleets have been attacked by Strathclyde's, as well, sometimes with cause, in retribution for raids, but sometimes not. There has been wrong on both sides of this war. Yet when Medraut of Galwyddel came to Dunadd and offered alliance, I put aside the grief for my own much-loved brothers. I recognized the great courage it took for him to sail into Dunadd Harbor, to ask for this alliance. I married Medraut, with all the anguish of the past between us, because I believed it was the best, the only way, to ensure that no one else from his people or mine ever grieves the loss of loved ones in a war that we have the power to stop, now and forever."