He twisted his body to see it better? Streamers shrieked with the passing of the wind, and the head flashed gold in a display of fire sparked by the caught rays of the sun. Ah, but it was good to be out in the open! Out on the sea, heading for Britain with Uthr Pendragon's war host! A sister ship, the same as this great war-beast, save that she flew no dragon, plunged into the cleft of a tossing wave, thrust herself forward, gallantly keeping pace.
The boy waved to men on board, grinning the wider to receive a brief flung acknowledgement. Then he saw Morgause watching him, standing as straight and stiff as the single mast. A fine-bred lady, Morgause, with the figure of a goddess and the vanity of an empress. She held her cloak tight around her shoulders, her slender fingers clasping a rose-coloured silk veil that held her sun-gold hair in place against the ripping wind.
If the ship was the perfection of sail, then she, to look upon, was surely the perfection of woman. Venus, Uthr called her in the intimacy of their lovers' bed. Perfection to the naked eye, often marred when examined close by a flaw within? The boy's pleasure faded as fast as a tossed stone sinks below the surface of a calm pond. Why did the Lord Uthr need bring her? Why her and not his wife? An invading army was no place for a woman, not even for the mistress of the man who considered himself to be Britain's rightful king.
Her eyes? His right hand was behind his back; he made the protective sign against evil, knew she was aware he made that sign. Strange, from tales he had always assumed witches to be ugly, dark creatures, not having the beautiful fair skin of Morgause. He tried again to feel the joy of the ship but the excitement had faded, lost under this shadow of her foreboding. Instead, the lad ducked below deck and made his way to where Uthr's soldiers squatted playing dice or board and counter games.
He was safe from her down here? Lord Uthr, called the Pendragon, approached Morgause from behind and wrapped his great oak-branch arms around her slender waist. She stiffened and pulled away from him, not caring at this moment for intimacy. Leave him.
The Kingmaking: Book One of the [email protected] Banner Trilogy
She had no intention of letting the boy run wild, unchecked and undisciplined. Why Uthr had brought him she had no idea. He was nurtured as foster son by Uthr's brother? Uthr found the boy to his liking, but to her mind he was a lazy, roughedged, insolent whelp who needed regular beating to remind him of his place. Common gossip favoured the foster father, Ectha, as the brat's unknown sire?
He had the more likely reputation, would once have rutted with any whore available. A smile slithered across Morgause's lips, so carefully painted with vegetable dye. Then he saw Morgause watching him, standing as straight and stiff as the single mast. Leave him. Show More. Table of Contents.
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The Kingmaking: Book One of the [email protected] Banner Trilogy | The Nile | TheMarket NZ
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