The Bloody Cup Read Online Free

and the last to bed during times of flood or pestilence. There are no children in all of Viroconium who don’t sing her praises, while the little ones call her the Lady of Sunshine. They swear the sun glows brighter wherever she walks.’
    ‘She was always a scamp.’ Artor smiled fondly in memory of Anna’s childhood in Aquae Sulis. ‘Your mother was always scraping her knees and running off with the farm workers to explore the fields of the villa.’
    ‘Why have I never met this Ordovice queen?’ Wenhaver scowled at the compliments that had been heaped on another woman, especially on one whose lineage was rumoured to be so high. ‘Why has she never journeyed to Cadbury, or even to Venta Belgarum?’
    Artor’s eyebrows drew together in controlled anger. Of the twins, only Balan was sufficiently alert to recognise Artor’s displeasure at any implied criticism of his mother, and he smiled gratefully in response.
    ‘Queen Anna prefers her adopted lands and she has told me often that she is reluctant to leave their borders,’ Artor answered testily. ‘I honour her preferences in this matter, for she cares nothing for courts or ceremony.’
    ‘And her people would not readily permit her to leave,’ Balan added. ‘Even her Roman childhood is now seen as a virtue, for she insists on cleanliness and the old values of honour and respect for all souls who come in contact with her.’
    Wenhaver frowned briefly, but then remembered that lines were beginning to deepen around her eyes. She forced her brow to smooth, although her blue eyes continued to glitter. Somewhere in her mean little heart, Wenhaver recognized that her husband loved Anna more than anyone. She smiled sweetly as she twisted the knife to show her displeasure.
    ‘Does she really work in the fields like a servant?’ she lisped in saccharine concern, as she examined her own hennaed and polished nails. ‘Her complexion must be ruined!’
    Balan whitened, and even Balyn flushed at the queen’s insult.
    ‘Desist, Wenhaver!’ Artor raised his voice fractionally. ‘Not all queens are amused by idle pleasures and personal vanities. Some, like the Lady of the Ordovice, are chatelaines in the Gallic sense, because they share those tasks that the common women must endure. In so doing, they understand their subjects much better. My sister Morgause is one such queen. She rules with King Lot and concerns herself with women’s matters, where her orders are obeyed implicitly. I admit that we have had our differences in the past, but I have never doubted that my sister is a true queen.’
    Wenhaver turned her fabulous eyes from one boy-man to the next, and then lowered her lashes to avoid seeing the anger on her husband’s face. Her expression warned the king that tantrums were imminent but it left the twins totally confused.
    Artor turned back to Balan, a partiality that was not lost on his twin brother, who stiffened a little and was imprudent enough to allow his cheeks to whiten with annoyance.
    ‘So Anna has managed to civilize Llanwith’s stiff-necked Cymru warriors? My foster-father, Ector of the Poppinidii, feared that she would never be accepted because of her Roman breeding, even though she was raised as a Celt.’
    ‘Her personal qualities always triumph over any prejudices that might confront her, my lord. In fact, she still uses her Roman name within her household and the whole tribe knows it, but they accept her quirks and continue to love her.’ Balan glowed with pride, although every word was chosen carefully. He imagined a chasm opening at his feet as the conversation threatened snares that he could not hope to avoid.
    ‘Licia!’ Artor murmured softly and, behind the throne, Odin stirred.
    ‘Her name is magical and very, very old. She was named for the great matron of the Poppinidii, Livinia Major, who died before she was born.’
    ‘Aye, we have been told the story of her birth by Lady Livinia Minor,’ Balyn said, vying for the eye and