"I would never consider such a thing, lady. But Gulrhys Lot did. He killed my messengers, all of them, when they were guarded by his oath of protection and safe passage. And for that, I promise you, I will have his foul guts stretched and dried to string my men's longbows. You must be fell proud of your husband, lady."
"What?" Ygraine felt the blood drain from her face. "What did you say?"
Uther looked at her and sucked in a mighty breath, then held it long before he let it go again. "I said 'your husband,' Gulrhys Lot, the man to whom you stand condemned to wife—"
He stopped abruptly as she jumped to her feet, the colour draining from her face, and his scowl deepened as he saw what he took to be fear filling her wide eyes.
"What?" he growled, exasperated. "Are you to scream now? Think you I'm going to flog you for being your husband's wife? You scoffed when Huw Strongarm told you I do not war on women, but he spoke the truth. Gulrhys Lot does enough of that for both of us. It is his nature, part of what sets him apart from ordinary, human folk. I hold no blame over you for the actions of that man, and none, either, for having wedded him. I know your story, and it leaves you blameless."
She took one hand in the other and squeezed with all her strength, digging her nails into the side of her palm and forcing herself to be calm and to think clearly. He knew her, there was no avoiding or gainsaying that. . . but that was unimportant. What was important was . . . She swallowed hard, fighting down panic. What was important was that Lot had killed his messengers, slaughtered them under promise of safe conduct.
"When did you discover this . . . treachery?"
"Several days ago, lady. I heard the tidings several days ago."
"And why have you said nothing until now? Why this mummery of sending me with messages to Lot? You knew then that would be worse than useless."
"Aye, lady, I did."
"And did you know then who I am?"
"Aye, that, too."
"And when did you discover that?"
"The first time I set eyes on you by the roadside, after the ambush in which Huw Strongarm captured you and your train."
"Then what of Morgas, who was supposed to be the Queen? Why did you permit that pretence?"
"Because it suited my purpose. It did me no harm to have you think your secret was secure."
"But you were bedding her!"
He shrugged. "I was bedding a woman, not a Queen. That was no hardship, for her or for me. We both enjoyed it, I think."
"But. . . but then, why send her away and keep me here ?"
"Because I had to separate you from the rest of the women. Once I heard that Lot had scorned his chance to gain you back, they became an encumbrance, and you took on a new importance."
She cocked her head to one side. "Even though you knew he would not treat for me?"
"Most particularly so."
Ygraine shook her head in denial. "You say you knew me when you first set eyes on me, but that is simply not possible, it means that you must have seen me somewhere before. But I have never been beyond Cornwall since first I set foot in Britain."
He shook his head. "I did not say I had seen you before. I simply recognized you for who you are. That's why I mentioned Deirdre of the Violet Eyes."
So astounded was she at hearing him use the name a second time that she could not even think to protest. "Explain that." she whispered.
He glanced quickly from her to Dyllis and then back to Ygraine.
"Deirdre was your sister, who suffered a strange childhood illness and died many years ago, is that not correct?"
She nodded, too stunned to speak.
"Aye, well, she did not die when your family thought she had. She survived for many years, though she was deaf and mute, and she travelled eventually to Britain, where she met and wed my beloved cousin, Merlyn Britannicus of Camulod. He and I found her alone and lost one day in the woods while we were on patrol—actually, I found her, or Nemo did, to be strictly truthful—and we took her back with us to Camulod. She had your face, unmistakably."
"She had my face . . ."
"Aye, she did. She is dead now, killed, murdered, almost a year ago, and we never discovered who did it. She died carrying my cousin Merlyn's child."
"But—"Ygraine looked away, trying to find words. Her head was reeling, her shock overwhelming her ability to deal with all the information that had come at her so swiftly. She shook her head, hard, and forced herself to think clearly, grasping at the one incongruous though! that had occurred to her in listening to what he had said. "But wait. . . she was deaf and mute from childhood. Her world was one of silence. How, then, could she have told you who she was?"
"She did not tell us. It was your brother Donuil who told Merlyn her real name, when the two, brother and sister, met again in Camulod—Lady!"
Strange noises had been buzzing in Ygraine's head for what seemed to be a long time, but when she heard her brother's name on this man's lips, suddenly everything about her began to spin. And then she felt as though she were flying through the air, weightless and without substance, with only a roaring in her ears, filling her head.
With a red haze fading quickly from in front of her eyes, she regained her senses moments later to find Uther Pendragon's face close to her own, his brows knitted in a ferocious scowl, while from above his shoulder Dyllis peered down at her, wide-eyed. Somewhat frantically, Ygraine struggled to sit upright, realizing only as she did so that the man's arm was completely encircling her, supporting her weight as though he had been carrying her. She realized then that she had fainted, and that he must have caught her as she fell, then borne her to the cot on which she now reclined with his support. Her heart fluttering, close to the edge of panic, she sat bolt upright and swung her feet around and down until they were solidly on the ground, pushing him away from her as she did so, protesting that she was perfectly well and required no assistance.
Uther stood upright immediately and took a long pace backwards, and she concentrated hard upon not looking at him as she brought herself back to order and decorum. Finally, when she felt that she was in command of herself again, she nodded once, curtly, in tacit acknowledgment of his assistance and courtesy.
"Lady, I said too much, too soon. You will have much to think about now. I will leave you to the questions that must be bubbling in your mind, and I will come back later. At least then I might be able to answer some of your questions. When I do come back, let there be no more talk between us two of Gulrhys Lot. His crime is committed, his foulness demonstrated, and neither you nor I can hold the other one responsible for his degeneracy. So let his name lie cursed and unspoken from this time between you and me." He raised his clenched fist to his breast in salute, then bowed stiffly from the waist and turned. Just before he left, however, he hesitated and half turned back to speak over his shoulder. "Forgive me, lady, if my bluntness has angered you. I had not intended saying all I said, and I had not considered how it might offend you to learn of it so suddenly and unexpectedly. In truth, I did not think at all . . . So now I, too, must spend some time alone, considering all the many complex strangenesses that are involved in this."
They watched him leave the tent, dipping his head as he passed through the doorway, and then Dyllis turned, her eyes filled with wonder, and opened her mouth to speak, but Ygraine cut her short.
"Leave me alone now, Dyllis, if you would. Go you and find you something to keep you occupied. As our jailer said, I have many questions calling to be answered, and I don't even know how to ask most of them. I have to think, and the last thing I need is to have you hovering there, gazing at me wide-eyed."