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distracted was he that Gwenhwyvar stepped in for him and said that perhaps it would be best for all if
she made provision for the young woman instead.
The Pendragon, anxious to get on with the council, readily agreed with his queen, and Gwenhwyvar
stepped forth to take the girl aside. But the young woman had other ideas, for even as the queen moved
from the throne, the girl started forward; she took three steps towards us. Gwenhwyvar hesitated,
allowing her to approach.
The fair stranger came nearer, but it became apparent that she was not looking at Arthur, nor the queen,
nor any one of us. Her bright green eyes were firmly fastened on another. I looked around me to see who
it might be: Myrddin? Bedwyr? No, neither of these. Rhys? Cai? Cador? No.
The young woman moved nearer, and I saw that she stopped before Llenlleawg, who stood at rigid
attention, spear at his shoulder, gazing into the distance above her head, as if trying mightily to ignore her.
But she would not be ignored, for she put out her hand and took him boldly by the arm, as if claiming him
for her own. Only then did he lower his gaze to regard her with an expression devoid of any warmth or
welcome.
'It appears she has chosen her champion,' Arthur observed dryly, 'and I cannot fault the choice.' He then
called to the Irishman to lead the young woman away. Gwenhwyvar went with them, and as soon as they
had gone, the council began to grind ahead once more, but more slowly this time and with less roaring
and breast-beating - as if all their anger had been expended and their passions leeched away by the
curious interruption.
In the end, the noblemen were persuaded to the virtue of accepting Arthur's terms. Any lingering
resistance melted away at Mercia's arrival. The Vandal prince strode at once to where Arthur sat on his
camp chair, and prostrated himself at the High King's feet, stretching himself full length upon the ground,
his face in the dust. The barbarian then took hold of the Pendragon's foot and placed it on his neck and
lay as dead before his sovereign lord.
Arthur then raised the barbarian to his feet and allowed him to embrace the High King like a brother.
This unabashed display of submission and acceptance went some distance towards convincing the yet
reluctant nobles that the Vandali were earnest in their regard for Arthur. Unwilling to be bested by
barbarians in displaying loyalty to the High King, the Britons made a point of renewing their vows of
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allegiance, placing themselves likewise beneath the Pendragon's sovereignty.
Arthur acclaimed them one and all. 'Rejoice, mighty chieftains,' he told them, bestowing the favour of his
winning smile, 'for a great good has been born in Britain today. You have put battle and bloodshed
behind you and welcomed the stranger in your midst in order that peace should obtain throughout the
land. For this I commend you, and I make bold to prophesy that from this day, as the Realm of Mercia
prospers, so Britain will prosper.'
He then declared a feast in honour of the new accord, and even made a joke at his own expense, saying
that any king who feasted his lords on bread and water, instead of meat and ale, was a king who risked
his life in a lion's den.
A small jest, but the noblemen laughed heartily, for by this they understood that the drought was just as
hard, if not harder, on the High King as it was for them, and that he had allowed himself no greater luxury
and largesse than the least of them possessed. Truly, I believe this endeared Arthur to them and bound
them to him far more tightly than anything else he could have said or done. They loved him for it, and the
mistrust and hurt feelings of the day dwindled to insignificance.
Thus, the council ended, and the noblemen departed, hailing one another loudly, and talking together as
they made their way to the place of feasting. 'That was well done, Bear,' Bedwyr said, watching them go.
'You have carried the battle.'
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