M. K. Hume [King Arthur Trilogy 04] The Last Dragon Read Online Free PDF

hot air, for who can know the truth of what happened in that hut? I’ve heard more rumours about that night than I’ve had silver coins in my hands. You presume the master played false. Shame on you, Mellyr, for that man is our king!’ Pedr’s voice was harsh, and the seneschal remembered that the hulking tribesman had served the kings of the Deceangli tribe since boyhood, as had his father, grandfather and great-grandfather, back to the happy days when the Deceangli had been free of even King Vortigern’s poisoned interference in their affairs. Pedr was a king’s man to the horny soles of his feet, but Mellyr chose to reveal the truth as he knew it, and damn the consequences.
    He raised his face to confront Pedr, his black eyes hard and unforgiving. ‘I was the only man of the whole retinue who entered that hut – the only one who dared to see what really happened. Do you understand what I’m saying, Pedr? Were I not the Keeper of the King’s Keys, and had the wars of Modred not intervened almost at once, Mark would have had me killed because of the things I witnessed. As it stands, I stay out of King Mark’s way so he’s not reminded of his deeds. I was there, and I know what I saw.’
    Pedr was silenced. Mellyr had seen something that had destroyed his faith in his king so irrevocably that he was openly speaking treason. The tribesman’s curiosity was sharpened.
    ‘So? Out with it. What did you see?’
    Like many poorly educated men who climb high in the world through their natural abilities, Mellyr had the natural gifts of a storyteller and the power to hold an audience by the seduction in his voice. Now that persuasive tone softened, and his fellow servants leaned forward to hear every word.
    ‘I entered the hut because I heard the queen shrieking like a mad woman. King Mark was standing behind the corpse of Lord Trystan, who had fallen from his stool onto the floor. Clearly, Trystan had been sitting at a table with his back to the door, and his hands were empty of weapons. He had been killed from behind, unaware of Mark’s presence. Iseult’s warning came too late.’
    ‘How did he die then?’ one of the kitchen servants interrupted. His slack mouth was open and his eyes were gleaming as he enjoyed the vicarious violence. ‘I heard he was beheaded!’
    Mellyr felt a little disgusted. ‘The king’s blade had struck Lord Trystan at the base of the skull so that the point of the weapon was forced upwards under the bone. Trystan’s bowels and bladder had voided but there was very little bleeding, yet our king had become spattered with blood. He must have twisted the knife with some force to be so soiled.’
    The servants shivered deliciously as they imagined the gruesome tableau. Like all men who serve and have no power themselves, they were rapt, captured by the frailty and fallibility of their master.
    ‘The queen knelt beside her lover and cradled his twitching body in her arms, careless of the blood and shit that soiled her skirts. No matter how I try, I can’t forget her face. Her expression was so blank that she seemed unaware of what was happening. She had become a woman of ice again, so that her face registered nothing, not even grief. She knew what her fate must be, although I’ve often wondered whether Mark would not have killed her but instead brought her back to Canovium, bound and helpless, as proof that he was the better man. He is still besotted with her, even after her death, so who can tell? He might have spared her to slake his lusts and to answer any lingering doubts about his manhood. We’ll never know, for Queen Iseult took her life into her own hands.’
    His audience leaned towards him, even Pedr, who prided himself on not being easily convinced by honeyed words.
    ‘She didn’t speak; she didn’t weep. When our master ordered her to leave the corpse, she obeyed, although she made a little cry of protest when King Mark sheathed his knife and drew his sword. I think I