Queen of the Summer Stars by Persia Woolley Page A

down my cheeks, mingling with the sweat of fire and dance, and when Arthur steadied me on my feet I answered his kiss with a grateful eagerness that did the Goddess proud.
    ***
     
    Just before we consummated our ritual, I commended Kevin to Epona’s care, wherever he might be, and once again reminded the Goddess that the moon was full and I was in need of a child.

Chapter VII
     
    Discovery
     
    When the May Day festivities were over we headed off to Cornwall—a cheerful bunch, laughing and joking in the dazzle of spring. After the winter at Silchester everyone looked forward to a change of scene, but for me it held the special promise of getting to know both the land and people.
    I rode Shadow, the little white Welsh Mountain mare Arthur had given me as a wedding present, and he was astride his large black stallion. The horses were fit and eager for the Road, tossing their heads and making the bells on their bridles ring. The Banner of the Red Dragon floated above us, while the entire entourage was decked out in their most colorful outfits. Even I was wearing a dress, and Igraine’s golden torque encircled my neck. Altogether we made a splendid picture.
    Everywhere we went our subjects came out to greet us, cheering in crowds by the gates of towns or saluting us singly from field and farm. They were as curious about me as I was about them and often called out my name as we approached. I waved and saluted them in return, glad to see them friendly and happy.
    Other travelers joined us if they were heading south or pulled to the verge of the Road as our party swept past. Peddlers, healers, farmer’s wives taking food to market, a band of young adventurers sharing the rigors of travel—I studied their faces closely, wondering about their dreams and hopes.
    We were coming through the Mendip Hills when a strange, mournful sound overtook us. It was as many-tongued as a pack of hounds, but muted and softer, like geese flying somewhere in the distance. The great, sky-filling flocks had long since settled down to nest, so I looked to Arthur with a query.
    Before he could reply the dogs burst into sight, rounding the shoulder of a hill like a tide of flapping napery spotted with blood. White as linen, every animal had dark red ears.
    “Great Gods, it’s the Gabriel Hounds,” Gawain cried, reaching for his dagger. Lance drew his sword and the wolfhounds froze, hackles raised and bodies taut.
    The racing pack divided to pass on either side of us, sending waves of panic through the household as an ear-splitting whistle rent the air. A man on a dun charger came into view, clinging to his galloping mount like a burr to a blanket. He bore down on us, long hair flying and eyes agleam.
    Shadow whinnied in terror as the thundering horse reared skyward to avoid crashing into us. For a long moment it danced in the air, front hooves pawing, nostrils flared and eyes rolling, before crashing to a halt barely three paces in front of me. The dogs ceased their yelping and turned back to their master.
    “Arthur Pendragon?” the man called, eyeing my husband with a fierce intensity—half mischief, half threat.
    “Who asks?” Arthur’s hand rested on the hilt of Excalibur.
    “Gwyn of Neath,” came the quick reply. “Thought I’d find you somewhere in these hills. Welcome to my territory.”
    “Your territory?” Arthur cocked an eyebrow. “A bit far from southern Wales, aren’t you?”
    By now our challenger had turned to ride beside us, sending his dogs on ahead. He gave the King a gap-toothed grin and nodded politely to me.
    “Neath’s just the family holdings—I’m going to Glastonbury to claim the land I liberated from a scoundrel who challenged me at a ford…typical braggart, he was. But I’ve taken to raising hounds and horses, and his land is good pasturage.”
    From the web of scars on Gwyn’s arms I suspected he’d spent more of his life on the battlefield than in either stable or kennel, but perhaps he felt it was