Divine Sacrifice, The Read Free Page A

deserved. I finished dressing, wishing that it were Kay going with us. In so many
ways, he was more aggravating than any of Arthur’s nobles, but, despite his temper, I had come to trust him completely. Unfortunately, Kay was off on an official inspection tour of our
eastern border forts. Unofficially, he was checking to see what mischief Mordred, Arthur’s cousin, had inflicted upon the people when posted to the east. Although Arthur had set Gawain and
Gereint to keep an eye on Mordred in the west, he desired that Kay should bring him a report from the east. It was while posted there some moons before that Mordred had let the Saxons into our
lands, or so I believed.
    Bedevere had been by Arthur’s side as long as Kay or longer. A handsome, strong fellow, he was quiet, unlike Kay. While I had warred as long with one as the other, I could not say that I
knew Bedevere well. His father and grandfather had been nobles under Vortigern, and Bedevere had come to Arthur’s service while the Rigotamos was still young.
    With a face that seemed cut from stone, he carried the look of a man with a hard heart. But the one secret I knew of Bedevere put the lie to that. Once on a scout for Arthur, Bedevere and I took
our soldiers into a small village, not too distant from Londinium. The Saxons had been there before us, and we searched among the burning huts and the slain for any that breathed yet. Circling a
small shed, I came suddenly upon Bedevere, sitting on the ground, his sword lying by his side. In his arms he cradled a small girl, her hair as blond as my Mariam’s, but her life’s
blood soaking the ground.
    The noble with a face of granite was crying. I returned from whence I came, and he never knew I had seen him. As long as Arthur could count on such men’s loyalty, he might have a chance in
this maze of a world, a chance to do some good among all the greed, jealousy, and evil.
    These were the things which held my mind as I finished dressing. Owain rummaged around in our storage pit, looking for bread and cheese. Merlin had already forgotten my journey and was busy
working on some odd-looking project at his workbench.
    “Father?”
    She always did that to me! Like some little water fairy, my daughter Mariam could pop in and out of the house without making a noise. Blond, like her mother, she had a face as fair and pretty as
the morning sun, with eyes as mischievous as Gwyn ap Nudd, the fairy king.
    “Yes, Mariam.”
    She edged closer to me and sat on the bench. Touching was still awkward for us.
    “Mother says you are to come and eat your morning meal with us before you leave.” As always, when delivering a message, she was the soul of severity. “Father, why are you and
the Rigotamos going to Ynys-witrin?”
    I straightened my tunic before answering. “So that he and Coroticus may argue about the church.”
    “But why do they argue? Do they not both believe in the Christ?” She was so like my dear Gwyneth, her true mother. Questions, always questions.
    Pausing and taking a deep breath, I searched for an answer. How do you explain such a question to a child? She knew nothing of Pelagius and his heresy, of how seriously priests argued over
unanswerable questions. Of how a priest could consider the shape of a building a blasphemy and a king could think it an homage and both could truly believe they were right. So, I made a joke.
    “They argue over whether to sacrifice a little girl or a little boy to bless the building. I have voted for a little girl, and I know just the one.”
    Mariam giggled, which was good to see. “No, you don’t, Father. You would not have saved me from those awful Saxons if you thought I would make a good sacrifice. And those who follow
the Christ do not believe in human sacrifice.”
    “True,” I agreed. “Now, run to your mother’s and tell her I will be there in a minute.”
    She left with the smile still on her face.
    “You should spend more time with her, Malgwyn. It