Free Wicked Day by Mary Stewart Page B

exploded thankfully into action. Gawain, prince and king-designate of Orkney, stood irresolutely for a few moments, then did as he was bidden, and ran to strip the net off the upturned boat.

    When the men at length emerged from the cottage and stood, in a close-talking huddle, near the doorway, they saw the two boys toiling up the path. Gawain led the goat, and Mordred carried, slung over his shoulder, an improvised bag of netting filled with protesting hens.
    Neither boy looked back.
    They were met at the palace gate by Gabran, who listened in silence to the story Gawain poured out, and thereafter, having spoken gently to Mordred, called up servants to rid the boys of their livestock ("And she is to be milked straight away!" insisted Mordred) and then hurried them straight into the palace.
    "The queen must be told. I shall go to her now. Mordred, go in and change and make yourself decent.
    She will want to see you. Gawain, go with him."
    He hurried off. Gawain, looking after him with narrowed eyes, as if seeing something far away and bright, said under his breath: "And one day, my fine Gabran, you will not command princes as if they were your dogs. We know whose dog you are! Who are you to take news to my mother in my place?"
    He flashed a sudden grin at Mordred. "All the same, I'd sooner he did today! Come on, we'd better get clean."
    The twins were in the boys' room, ostensibly busy, but obviously waiting with some impatience for their first sight of their new half-brother. Agravain was sitting on the bed sharpening his dagger on a whetstone, while Gaheris, on the floor, rubbed a leather belt with grease to flex it. Gareth was not there.
    The twins were stocky, well-built boys, with the ruddy hair and high colour that marked Morgause's sons by Lot, and, at the moment, sullen expressions that were something less than welcoming. But it had apparently been made clear to them that Mordred must be welcomed, for they gave him a civil enough greeting, and thereafter sat staring at him, much as cattle do at something strange and perhaps dangerous that has strayed into their pasture.
    A servant hurried in with a bowl of water and a napkin, which he set on the floor. Gawain ran to the clothes-chest and threw Mordred's things off onto his bed. He burrowed inside the chest for his own things, while Mordred began to strip.
    "What are you changing for?" asked Agravain.
    "Our mother wants us," said Gawain, muffled.
    "Why?" asked Gaheris.
    Gawain shot a look at Mordred that meant, plainly, Not a word. Not yet. Aloud, he said: "That's our business. You'll hear later."
    "Him, too?" Agravain pointed at Mordred.
    "Yes."
    Agravain was silent, watching as Mordred slipped into one of the new tunics, and reached for the worked leather belt with its sheath for a dagger, and the hanger for a drinking horn. He fastened the buckle, and looked about him for the silver-mounted horn Ailsa had given him.
    "It's there, on the window sill," said Gaheris.
    "Did she really give you that one? You're lucky. It's a beauty. It's the one I asked for," said Agravain.
    The words were not angry or sullen, in fact they contained no expression at all, but Mordred's eyes flicked to him and then away again, as he clipped the horn to his belt.
    "There was only one." Gawain spoke over his shoulder. "And you and Gaheris always have to have the same."
    "Gareth's to get the golden one," said Gaheris. He spoke in the same flat, unboylike tone. Again Mordred glanced, and again the lids dropped over his eyes. Something had registered in that cool brain, and was stored away for the future.
    Gawain wiped his face and dried it, then threw the napkin to Mordred, who caught it. "Be quick, then we've got to do our feet. She's fussy about the rugs." He glanced round. "Where's Gareth, anyway?"
    "With her, of course," said Gaheris.
    "Did you expect a full council of welcome, then, brother?" asked Agravain.
    Conversing with the twins, thought Mordred, drying his feet, was like talking