Queen of the Summer Stars Read Online Free PDF Page A

and was leading an army into Cornwall.
    “Mark rides with him, but he wants you to know he will not take arms against you, since you are his own Duke,” the courier announced glumly.
    Gorlois gave a hollow laugh. “We appreciate His Highness’s reassurance. But I don’t suppose that means he will take arms for me.”
    Embarrassed, the fellow stumbled through an explanation that Mark didn’t want to further upset the High King, but after he had left Gorlois let out a string of oaths, calling the pudgy young King of Cornwall every kind of coward he could think of.
    “Ah well, as long as you stay here there’s nothing to fear,” the grizzled warrior concluded, slinging his cape of black Spanish goathair over his shoulder. “There’s no way outside of magic that Tintagel can be taken—even one warrior can hold the path, if necessary. So I’ll leave the houseguard under your command and take the rest of the men to Dimilioc to wait for Uther. If he won’t listen to reason, he’ll have to listen to the song of swords.”
    Igraine nodded in agreement, but trembled nonetheless.
    Gorlois wrapped his solid arms about his wife and she leaned in against him, sheltered and protected in the folds of his fuzzy cloak. He held her tightly, promising to return with word as to how things were going unless Uther had him and his men besieged at the hill-fort. Then he strode away across the Hall and Igraine was alone.
    ***
     
    “I do not know how to describe the terror that filled me after Gorlois left,” she whispered. “At night I huddled in the middle of our big carved bed, praying for my husband’s return. Sometimes during the day I climbed to the top of the rampart, looking down on the gate that guards Tintagel and reminding myself that as long as I stayed on this side, I’d be safe from the forces Uther had unleashed. Yet all the while the booming of the surf at the base of the cliffs was pounding in my blood, and the murmur of the tide over the shingle whispered to my heart. Whenever I remember those days, I think the Goddess Herself had taken up residence in the cave below the fortress, for every moment pulsed with a fierce, primeval power.”
    On the third night Igraine was so filled with tension that she walked the ramparts under the sparkling stars long after the servants thought she was in bed. A treasure of brilliance lit the western horizon, and the breeze off the water was unusually soft and warm, as though the calendar said June instead of March. The night was dazzling in its beauty, promising birth and renewal, and the young Duchess’s mood shifted from dread to delight. Like a flower unfolding, the petals of the universe opened for her, and she stood in rapture on the edge of the world.
    And then she saw it—a firedrake that came leaping across the sky like one of the dragons Merlin had prophesied, racing toward her through the stars. It came out of the depths of beyond and flung itself earthward in a blaze of glory. Thinking it was going to crash upon Tintagel, Igraine threw herself against the tower wall.
    The meteor fled westward, its light slowly dimming as the fiery head disappeared over the edge of the horizon. But the Duchess of Cornwall didn’t see its departure, for her attention was riveted on a commotion at the postern gate.
    Hewn into the face of the cliff, the gate guarded the secret escapeway that led straight from the heart of the fortress. Few people knew of its existence, much less dared to risk the steep, spray-washed stairs by night. Yet three hooded figures were demanding entrance and Igraine watched intently, all but forgetting to breathe.
    A sleepy sentry peered into the shadows cast by his guttering torch, then saluted quickly as the man in the black cloak brushed past him and entered the gatehouse. The young Duchess gave a cry of relief; Gorlois had returned. Safety and sanity were coming back to her, and with a rush of gratitude she ran down the steps and across the garden to their