Asprin, Robert - For King and Country by Asprin Robert

Author:Asprin, Robert [Asprin, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-10-30T02:48:48+00:00

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southern borders, as did King Arthwys ap Mor of the Pennines, offering to send his son Prince Pabius in command of the sizeable force. The next man to speak, whose grey hair and deeply lined face spoke of age and strain, shared the same narrow, weasel-eyed face as King Idnerth, great-grandson of Vortigern. "I, King Concennus ap Vortimer and my son Prince Brochfael Ysgythrog speak for Powys and the kingdoms of the midlands.

Powys has no borders that are threatened and will not contribute young men needed for the harvesting and the fishing to drive invaders from someone else's land."

A shocked and angry roar erupted as the aging king and his buck-toothed son took their seats. King Meirchion of Rheged snarled, " I would expect no less than treason from a spawn of Vortigern! "

"Treason, is it?" Concennus shot back. "There's no treason in protecting one's own interests! Powys is not threatened. Why should Powys bleed and die for the errors in judgement committed by fools in Glastenning or Strathclyde?"

Young Clinoch went ice pale and gripped the hilt of his dagger. "You will not insult my father's memory within the same week as his death, Concennus! Meet me steel to steel, like a man, if you intend slander!"

Another thunderous round of shouting erupted. Artorius was slamming the hilt of his sword against the tabletop again, roaring for order. Clinoch, shaking with rage, stood glaring at Concennus, who measured him lazily with a dismissive eye, compounding the insult. His buck-toothed son grinned at the young king, while paring his nails with his own knife, insulting everyone in the council chamber. Emrys Myrddin strode between the tables, passing the central hearth in a billow of white robes, and slammed an immense oaken staff between Clinoch and Meirchion on one side and Concennus and Brochfael on the other. The young prince of Powys had the grace to jump in startlement at the crash.

" This is a council of kings, " Myrddin hissed coldly, " not a brawl between milk-brats!

Brochfael, you shame your father's name with your insolence. Put up that knife or leave this council under the geas of excommunication and end your days an outlaw cast out of Britain!"

The young prince glared at Myrddin, but quickly realized the threat was serious and that Myrddin would brook no refusal. He resheathed his knife with a sullen look.

"Concennus, you have the sovereign right to refuse succor to your brother kings. No one denies this. If you stand by that right, know that the geas will be laid upon you and all of Powys, as well. Expect no aid, no comfort, no assistance should any disaster befall you, whether it be famine, flood, plague, or invasion. A man who stands selfishly alone bleating of his rights when his brothers are dying can expect no aid when he, himself, is mortally wounded."

Concennus, older than Emrys Myrddin by at least twenty years, if not thirty, glared coldly at the Druidic councillor. "Powys is a large kingdom, advisor, and controls Caer-ABC Amber LIT Converter

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