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“It turns out that Cranston isnotwell liked by the staff,” Sarah added. “I can’t say I was surprised.”
Neither was Kenver.
“Gwen says Cranston and your mother’s abigail are engaged in a vicious, silent vendetta.” Sarah’s smile and shrug were half-guilty, half-impish. “She didn’t put it just that way, but that’s how it sounded.”
She’d found an ally in Gwen. Sarah created such bonds whenever she had the least encouragement, Kenver realized. Look at his father’s hounds. They adored her and joined Sarah at every opportunity when she went outside. Kenver thought they liked her more than they did his father, though he’d never say so aloud.
“Is anything wrong?” Sarah asked.
Only the usual things, Kenver thought. Gwen was a great improvement, but their situation at Poldene was still highly unsatisfactory. His mother had taken to leaving her bedchamber door open in the evenings when people were retiring to bed. If Kenver came near his wife’s room, Mama looked out from across the corridor and made innocuous remarks.Seeminglyinnocuous.
Sarah was gazing at him. He needed a plan. He feared that the distance between them was increasing. “The expedition tomorrow is all set up,” he said.
Sarah nodded. She waited for him to go on, but he couldn’t find the words he wanted. “I’ll let you get back to your book,” he added and left her there.
The following morning, the Terefords, Sarah, and Kenver set off to visit Tintagel. Sarah wondered if it was too odd a choice for their outing. It was the best-known “sight” near Poldene. But it was also the scene of their scandalous night in the sea cave. In the end, she shrugged this off. She didn’t intend to avoid the place forever.
They went on horseback, on a bright and sultry late August day. Leaving their mounts in the shade, they made their way over to the ruins. A few others were walking about the site, all of them strangers.
“Is this place thought particularly interesting?” asked the duke as they strolled. “The ruins seem in poor condition.”
“It is the connection with King Arthur,” Sarah replied.
“I thought he, er, operated in Wales.”
“This is where it all began.” Sarah would have thought everyone had heard the tale.
“All?”
“The story comes from Geoffrey of Monmouth’sHistory of the Kings of Britain,” said Kenver.
Sarah plunged in. “In order for the future king—Arthur—to be…engendered, Merlin magically disguised Uther Pendragon, King of Britain, as Duke Gorlois of Cornwall. That way Uther could…visit Gorlois’s wife, Igraine.” For specific reasons that were unmentionable but obvious, Sarah noted.
The duke looked as if he was sorting this out. “That sounds a bit dubious,” he said after a bit.
“Merlin was fulfilling a prophecy. Of a king to save Britain from foreign invaders,” Sarah added.
“And this was the way he would…get one.”
“That is the tale,” said Kenver.
“The end justifying the means,” replied Tereford.
“It does seem a rather underhanded thing to do, particularly from Igraine’s point of view,” said the duchess.
“Should Uther have agreed?” wondered Kenver. “It doesn’t seem honorable.”
“He was mad with desire.” The words popped out of Sarah’s mouth. She flushed when the others all looked at her.
“Ah,” said the duke.
The syllable might have meant that Uther’s actions were understandable under those circumstances, or that Uther should not have succumbed to his illicit passion. Or something else far more personal that Sarah could only hope she had not revealed. She had no idea. It was often difficult to know what the duke thought.
“And what was Igraine?” wondered Cecelia.
Sarah thought of that ancient queen’s tumultuous destiny—her child taken away and returned a stranger, her reputation cast in doubt, her love for Uther tainted by politics. Sarah noticed that Kenver was staring at her. “I never liked Uther much,” she said. “He was arrogant and intemperate.”
“You speak of him as if he was an actual acquaintance,” observed the duke.
