Free Saint Camber by Katherine Kurtz Page B

brought for just that purpose.
    He went back to his quarters to change then, giving the necklace to Rhys to return to Cullen, who would slip it back into the royal treasury later. Rhys remarked, just before they parted, that neither moth nor mite nor any other creeping thing would likely bother the robe which Camber had worn that morning; indeed, Camber would be fortunate if Evaine even readmitted him to his own chambers in such a condition.
    Camber, with a delicate sniff at his sleeve, could only smile and allow that Rhys was indisputably correct.
    Half an hour later, the Gwynedd war council convened in the great hall, this time with a surprisingly attentive King Cinhil present. All of the major battle leaders were there: Jebediah, sitting at the king’s right hand as commander in chief; Cullen and Joram, for the Knights of Saint Michael and the other ecclesiastical knights; Camber, with young Guaire of Arliss, representing the Culdi levies; James Drummond, scion of a distaff branch of Camber’s family, who brought the vast Drummond levies to Cinhil’s aid; Bayvel Cameron, the queen’s aging but brilliant uncle; Archbishop Anscom and four of his warrior bishops who also commanded lay forces; young Ewan of East-march, eldest son of Earl Sighere, who had arrived during the night to speak for his father’s allying army; and a score of lesser nobles whose varied levies had managed to reach the capital in time to give aid.
    Their plans quickly solidified. Speaking with occasional prompting from Cullen, Jebediah outlined what had been learned of Ariella’s strength and positioning, without divulging its source—if he even knew it—and the war leaders haggled out a workable battle plan. Map boards were brought out, markers adjusted; and soon the clarks were drawing up final battle orders for Cinhil’s signature. By the time the sun reached its zenith, winking bravely in a watery sky, the decisions had been made and appropriate orders dispatched, all under a compliant Cinhil’s seal. They would leave at dusk that same day. Some of the lords left even then, to ready their men for march. Cinhil found himself left somewhat breathless by it all.
    He tried to make some sense out of things, as his commanders began drifting from the hall to see to their individual responsibilities. The tide of their movements swirled around him but did not really touch him, for they knew that his approval in these matters had been largely for show. He was not, nor did he claim to be, a military man.
    But even to Cinhil’s unpracticed eye, the probable deployment of Ariella’s army had shifted drastically since the last time he had thought to look seriously at a map board. That positions should change was not surprising, of course. And it was certainly to be hoped that their information would become more reliable as battletime drew near.
    But he was amazed at the new confidence in the voices he had heard this morning. They had spoken in far more definite terms than he had been led to expect, based on the uncertainty and anxiety they had displayed the last time he had paid attention to a military planning session.
    Cinhil admitted himself mystified by it all, for he did not pretend to understand a great deal of what had been discussed. And there was too much certainty around him now to think of questioning, of asking what might happen if things did not go as they had planned. Still, he worried.
    Ariella was devious—even he knew this. Even if their information were correct—which was by no means certain, so far as he could tell—suppose Ariella changed her mind? Women did. Or, God forbid, suppose the information was incorrect to begin with—or, worse, deliberately false, set to mislead them? If either case were true, Jebediah and the other battle leaders were committing the royal Gwynedd levies to disastrous positions. He was surprised to find that he cared.
    He asked Rhys about it later, when