"Elyan, have you seen Merlin?" Gwen asked, walking up to her brother where he was talking with Bors in the corridor.
"I think he's tidying up Arthur's room," Elyan answered.
But when Guinevere stepped into Arthur's chamber, it appeared empty. Then she heard a sound, and saw Merlin peeking through the door into her own chamber. Silently craning her neck to look past him, Gwen saw what was happening. Sifa was tidying her chamber. She would take some of the gowns off of the dressing screen where they had been hung, and fold them away neatly in the cupboard. While he back was turned, the blankets on the bed would pull themselves up and smooth themselves out. Sifa would laugh, then go to clean something else, putting the remains of breakfast on a tray. While she was occupied at the table, the mop would dunk itself in the bucket and scrub a spot out of the floor. By the time the room was clean, Sifa was laughing as Gwen had never heard her laugh before, not even in the old days.
Retreating silently to the corridor, Gwen knocked apologetically at the door of Arthur's chamber. Merlin jumped spun around. "Your majesty!"
"Hello, Merlin. Arthur requires your presence in the Council Chamber." Merlin nodded and followed her back down the stairs.
000
"It's started," Arthur said when Merlin and Gwen walked in the door. "A messenger has come from Nemeth. Morgana attacked them, knowing that Rodor's army is still weak from Odin's invasion. A messenger has come from them, asking that they be granted refuge in Camelot—which of course we will grant."
"And both of them are well—King Rodor and Princess Mithian?" Leon asked.
Arthur gave him a tight smile. "Yes—they are both coming, with the troops that are left to them."
"Geoffrey, have you checked the records?" Guinevere asked. "Do we have the food to support refugees?"
He nodded. "We had a good harvest this year. We are well placed to host our friends."
Arthur nodded. "Morgana and Horsa seem to have bypassed Odin's kingdom, but if they continue westward toward Camelot, they will pass closely by Annis's lands," he said, pointing at the map. "She may be their next target. Annis's armies are strong, but I do not know if they can withstand Horsa's. We must be prepared to host more of our allies if Horsa wins. Leon." He turned to his captain. "Send soldiers down into the town and the surrounding areas to warn them of Rodor's approach. They can direct Nemeth's soldiers toward the fallow fields on the east side of the town for their encampment. And see to it that the Crown purchases enough grain to feed our guests."
"Yes, Sire." Leon bowed and left, and Arthur looked at Merlin. "What are you thinking?" he asked quietly.
"I'm wondering if Rodor and Camelot's forces combined will be enough to hold off Horsa's armies," Merlin said, staring down at the small depiction of Camelot on the map. "With Morgana possibly taking out entire swaths of soldiers at a word as she did in her last attack… I don't know how much of a chance any of us stand."
000
Four full days with Horsa's men was more than enough, Morgana decided. Even when those days constituted the overthrow of one of Camelot's allies. She was glad for their victory, but gladder yet to be returning to Addington and Gethin's house, away from the reek of men and the guttural sound of the uncouth Saxon language. She had slept poorly the last few days, and hoped in Addington at least she could find some temporary peace.
"I don't know why you insisted on coming back here," Elïavrés grumbled. He too had had his fill of Saxons, and had decided to ride with Morgana and her guard. "This road takes us half a day out of our way."
"It is half a day well spent to get us away from Horsa of the stinking breath," Morgana said between her teeth. She knew the Gaul would not appreciate the real reason: that Morgana had genuinely enjoyed her time with Gethin and his family before, and that she had promised to teach Seren that spell.
At long last, they came around the southern side of the barrow, and Addington came into view. But something was wrong. The small, neat houses were no longer so neat: splintered doors and gaping holes in the wall met Morgana's eye. She could hear the lowing of cattle and the clucking of chickens, but not the voices of men.
Horsa's soldiers had marched through the village. And just as they had in Rodor's castle, they had ruined and destroyed the things in their path. Tey had left the livestock, considering it too difficult to bring it with them, but had plundered the nicer houses. Like Gethin's.
Morgana urged her horse into a canter and rode up to Gethin's large, handsome house. The door was broken, swinging crookedly on its hinges. Morgana slid quickly out of the saddle and ran inside.
She nearly tripped over a body and came skidding to a halt. It was Gethin himself, lying face-up, his eyes staring unseeing at the roof. Beside him lay one of the serving girls.
Morgana raised her head at the sound of a sob coming from one of the inner rooms. She paced quicked down toward the very chamber she had stayed in so few days ago, and froze in the doorway. Adlai was huddled in the corner—cradling the body of her daughter. There was a great, bloody gash on the side of Seren's throat and her head lolled backward on her broken neck. Adlai looked up at Morgana, but couldn't seem to form any words. She didn't need to: her wild, staring eyes said enough.
Morgana felt the bile rise in her throat. She turned and stumbled back through the house, desperate to get away, to get back into the sunlight. When she was nearly at the door, a sound made her turn. A Saxon soldier came out of the storeroom, carrying two large silver candlesticks.
Morgana's vision flashed red. "Áræme," she spat, reaching out a claw-like hand. The Saxon gave a shout and dropped the candlesticks as he rose up into the air, almost to the roof. "Ádumbe," she snarled, and his shouting stopped, though his mouth still worked, his eyes starting with horror. "Ácunnae þá cwealmnesse þæt þu anbesettedest þes dæg!" she commanded, her voice rising almost into a shriek. The Saxon writhed in agony, still suspended in the air.
"Morgana!" Elïavrés shouted.
Morgana, turning a deaf ear, snapped her hand closed in a fist. There was a hideous snapping noise as the Saxon's neck broke. He fell to the ground.
"Having a tantrum?" Elïavrés asked scornfully.
Morgana was panting with fury, her chest heaving, and her eyes burning with unshed tears. "He will pay for what he has done!" she spat, ignoring him.
"It looks like he's paid already," Elïavrés said dispassionately.
"Not him! Horsa!"
"Horsa didn't kill these people," the Gaul pointed out.
"But his men did. And a commander is responsible for his men!"
"You were the one who told Horsa his men could have all the plunder they could carry," Elïavrés pointed out, sounding almost bored. "You knew what kind of a man he was when you invited him to these shores. You have no one to blame but yourself if you cannot control over your own mercenaries." He turned and left the house, adding over his shoulder, "Let's find somewhere else to spend the night."
But Morgana remained, staring down at the dead Saxon at her feet, his eyes, frozen in death, almost starting from their sockets in horror. Suddenly she turned and nearly ran from the house.
TBC
AN: The spell she uses to torture the Saxon probably has horrible grammar (because I don't actually know Anglo-Saxon), but I was trying to say, "Experience the pain that you inflicted this day."
