Jack Whyte - The Eagles' Brood

"Thank you," I said eventually, moving back to sit beside him, then waited again. Uther, however, merely sighed and lay down, making himself comfortable on the grassy bank, leaving it for me to continue the conversation. "When did you find out?"

"What? About your promotion? When I returned last time. I meant to say something, but by then it was old tidings, and I forgot. But I'm glad for you. You earned it."

"You don't mind?"

"Mind?" He laughed aloud, and raised his head from the ground to gaze at me in surprise. "Why should I mind? Did you think I would be envious?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "Not really, although I must admit the possibility had come into my mind."

He propped himself up on one elbow and shook his head, as though in wonder at my silliness. "Tell me, Cay, will you be envious of me when I am King of Pendragon?"

I felt my eyes grow wide. "Of course not."

"Then why ask such a question of me?"

"I don't know, Uther. Forgive me." I felt foolish and petty, but he had already changed the subject.

"But there's one other thing I never did ask you. The girl, Cassandra...how did you get her out of that guarded room?"

Coming as it did, this question, too, caught me off guard. I felt a wave of resentment wash over me and all of my doubt and distrust came flooding back. I bit back the hostile response that sprang to my tongue and turned my face away to mask my feelings, hiding my agitation by answering his question with one of my own. "What makes you think I had anything to do with it?"

He barked his short, ferocious laugh. "Come on, Cay, this is me! Uther! Either you spirited her away, or I have to start believing in magic. Of course it was you! But how in the name of your Druid mystics did you do it? And why did you do it?"

"She was in danger."

"From whom?"

"From whoever it was who tried to kill her in the first place."

He sat erect now and looked at me in surprise, an expression of genuine puzzlement that made me wonder if he truly was a remarkable actor. "Why would anyone try to kill her?" he asked. "She was raped and beaten, from what I understand. Badly it seems, but why would anyone try to kill her? And if they had, why wouldn't they have done the job properly in the first place? She was no better than a slave girl. No one would have paid much heed.'"

My anger boiled over. "To murder? In Camulod? My father makes no secret of the fact that the price for rape and murder in his command is death! You seem to take it very

lightly, Cousin, but that's the way it is! Death. My hope was that she might identify her attacker, or attackers, if there were more than one of them, which I doubt!"

His eyebrow had gone up at the strength of my outburst and now when he spoke, his voice was low. "Why would you doubt it?"

"I have my reasons."

"I'm sure you do." His voice was much quieter now. "Do you mind my asking what they are?"

"Ask yourself, Uther!"

"Ask myself?" He frowned slightly and shook his head abruptly. "So why would it be so important to you— because it very obviously is—that this girl should be able to identify her attacker? That is what I'm asking myself, Cay. Why? You went to a great deal of trouble to protect her. Why? She was a stranger."

"Not to everyone! She was no stranger to you!"

"To me? What does that mean? I wasn't even in Camulod!"

"Oh yes you were, Uther!"

Now his frown was deep and angry. "Are you suggesting..." His voice tailed away to silence and I watched the muscles in his face as they reflected the thoughts going through his mind. If he was dissembling, he was performing masterfully. "It was that night, wasn't "it? The night I left?"

"Yes. The night you left in a rage, swearing to teach her a lesson she would not soon forget. They found her in the stables next morning. She had been beaten almost to death. And you were gone. No one had seen you go. No one knew where you had gone."

"I see." He was not looking at me. His eyes Were fixed on a rock in the stream bed and on the water that spumed around it. "So you, quite naturally, assumed that I had done this thing." His eyes flicked up to hold my gaze. "It was a very brutal beating, wasn't it?" I did not respond. "And you thought me capable of that kind of bestiality?" I simply stared at him. "You still think so?"

"I don't know, Uther."

"You wanted her to recover and identify me?"

That, and the way he said it, made me pause. "No, I wanted her to recover and identify her attacker. I did not want it to be you." He was looking directly at me. "I was afraid it might be, but I was hoping she would prove me wrong."

"So why did you arrange for her to disappear? You could have kept her there until I came back."

"I could have, but by keeping her there I was putting her life in danger."

"How, in God's name? I was nowhere near!"

"Are you admitting guilt?"

"No, of course not, but you suspected me."

I got to my feet and looked down at him. "That's trust, in a strange way, I suppose. I suspected you, but I had no proof and I could have been wrong. I wanted desperately to believe I was wrong. And if I were wrong, then her true attacker could have been any man in Camulod. It could have been one or even more of the men guarding her—any of them. And any of them could have killed her. That would have proved you innocent, but she would have died in the proving of it."

He considered that for some time, then jerked his head in a brief gesture of acceptance. "So how did you get her out?"

"By trickery. She was gone before I ever mounted a guard over her."

"No. Her guards saw her."

"They saw a boy who took her place. He ran out of the building while the guards were waiting for someone to try to get in."

Uther shook his head, a slow smile of wonder stealing over his face. "You are quite a man, Cousin. Where did you take her to?"

"A safe place. Why do you ask?"

"Curiosity."

I shrugged again. "She is...safe."

"Good. Then I hope I'll have the pleasure of meeting her again some day and putting your mind at rest, one way or the other."

I had to ask my question. "Was it you, Uther? Did you do it?"

He was silent for a long time, holding my gaze, a strange look on his face that I had not seen before. "You saw me as I left, that night. You obviously thought I was angry enough to do it. Then I disappeared, which could be taken as an indication of guilt." He paused, evidently remembering. "The four wenches we had that night. They must have said something. What happened to them?"

"They never knew. I sent them away early the next morning, before they had a chance to hear about it. They went under close escort—some trusted men of Titus's— ostensibly to set up a house for us in Glevum. The news had not yet spread, and they knew nothing of what happened."

He thought about that for a short time. "My thanks, Cousin, for that. You evidently had at least some doubts in your head about my guilt."

"Some." I nodded. "Enough to convince me to take steps to protect you from gossip. I was angry and confused, but I wanted to conduct my own inquiries uninfluenced by hearsay."

He stood up. "Well, Cousin Cay, I'm in a bad situation here. I could claim innocence, but it wouldn't put your doubts to rest. I know the truth of it, but you are going to have to live with your doubts, I'm afraid—for a while, at least. Can you continue to do that?"

"Why not? I've been doing it for months."

"And you can still ride with me?"

"Aye, Uther, and fight with you, and hope I've been mistaken. I have strong doubts about your guilt and your innocence, both, and I have no proof of either. On the other hand, I've known you all my life and no man is dearer to me.

There was a half smile on his lips. "So you would forgive me for one lapse?"