Chapter One: Calling Your Name
The room was bustling. Only three months after the coronation, the new High King Artorius Castus was already neck deep in the pains of politics. The bickering Briton Lords was far too much to bear. He looked around to see that his knights were bored as it is. They were not men of squabbling. Arthur and the Sarmatian Knights were men of action, not fit for the world of politics.
Lancelot seemed like the only one listening to any of it, only because there was nothing better to do. But you could see it in his eyes that he would rather bed a barmaid than listen to this drabble. If he wasn't in the hall at that very moment, Arthur had no doubt that that would exactly be Lancelot's activities for the evening.
Galahad was looking outside the window. There was a strange and fat looking bird outside it, sitting on the tree. He found it more amusing to watch the bird keep balance on the branch rather than be part of the bureaucratic nonsense that seemed to resonate from the room.
Gawain was not doing any better himself. He was playing with a dagger in his hand, cleaning some of his finger nails with it. It was surprising to see Gawain do this, because this sort of vanity could normally be seen from Lancelot.
Bors was dead in sleep. He was snoring as loud as an ox in his chair. It was not really hard to fall asleep despite the noise. It was by far, the perfect lullaby, and far more tranquil than the screaming of his children, especially eleven.
Finally, Tristan was over in the corner, stroking his hawk and feeding it bread crumbs he had in a pouch. At least, that was what he was doing before he heard Bors snort in his sleep and hit him straight across his bald head. He gave the faintest of smiles when Bors sprung to consciousness demanding to know who had hit him.
The hall was filled and the round table had never been fuller. This was the first time all of the Lords had gathered in one room, and Arthur was regretting ever having the idea. This was the start of a massive headache that would linger for the entire duration of the gathering.
"My Lords, we cannot cut up the land amongst ourselves as the Romans did. This is the Land of the people and we are in our esteemed positions to serve them, not to hurl them back into the fists of slavery." He stressed, ceasing the incessant talk among the bloodthirsty leaders.
There were more pressing matters ahead rather than the feudal wrangling that these group seemed to have in mind. The Saxons were gathering in numbers once more. Apparently, their defeat in Badon Hill was not enough to scare them off. With a new leader in throne, they were once again prepared to cut the throats of all who stood in their way.
"Let us go to the matter at hand, the true reason why we convened this evening, the Saxons." Arthur commanded, pounding on the table, making sure that all heard him.
"Aye!" Replied some of the Lords as they pounded the hilt of their swords on the table.
"I agree." Lancelot affirmed his commander. "The Saxons of the North are coming. It is not pretty. They are larger in numbers than ever before and we have not even replenished our forces." He spoke with urgency. Lancelot knew what the Saxons were capable off, he almost died by their hands. It was a stroke of nothing short of a miracle when he was saved from the pangs of death. For that he was thankful everyday, but it was bickering like this that made him wish that he had departed a long time ago.
"Lancelot speaks the truth. Our scouts say that the threat is larger than before. We cannot afford to be so unprepared when they come knocking at our doors. We must act." He emphasized. He was not going to let the death of so many of his Knights remain in vain. Briton had been united, and it would remain united as long as he had a say in it.
"I say we retreat, press South of the Wall until we have gathered enough men and supplies." Remarked Lycus, leader of the Roman Forces in the West. He was now also free of his service to the Empire and decided to stay in Briton with all of his lands intact. He was loyal to the new order, but was not so keen on Arthur being his sovereign, and he was definitely not coy in showing his discontent.
"Shut your arse trap Lycus!" A freshly awoken and heated up Bors replied. "Retreating to the South would mark death for all of us! The Saxons of the South may be small in number, but they can bloody well keep us occupied until their allies come!" He growled.
"I agree with Bors." Gawain drawled. "The Saxons in the South will run as down and weaken us, increasing the chance of defeat for when their brethren arrive." It was a hard fact to accept, but the truth is, they were trapped. The wall was by far the safest place they could be at right now. Leaving its protection would mean death.
"Then what do you suggest we do?" Lycus remarked, challenging both Arthur and the Knights who stood with him.
Squabbling emerged. The room was torn between those who sided with the Knights and those who thought it best to follow Lycus's advice. The voices erupted in protest and support.
"Will you have us die on the fields of battle!"
"Tis a warrior's death!"
"Well not mine!"
"We must think beyond the battle on to the future! We have better chances in the South!"
Before Arthur could silence them once more, the hall doors burst open. A woman stood at the threshold. Upon letting her enter, the servants immediately closed the doors behind her, fighting against the wind. The woman was of pale complexion. Her hair was as black as a raven's feathers. Her eyes were gray and hallow. Her skin still carried the blue marks of war that Woads often wore. As for her state, she seemed tired as if she had been ridding hard for many days. There was a mysterious air around this woman. She was greeted by the council with whispers and glares. She did not mind them and walked straight on.
"Who among you is Artorius Castus?" She asked, in a very hushed yet commanding voice. She scrutinized the room, looking into the eyes of the men present. She had no doubt that they did not know who she was, for that she was thankful. She did not need her reputation to haunt her at this very moment. She felt comfort in the shadows of anonymity.
Immediately, Arthur stood up and walked towards the woman, curious on why she had interrupted such an important meeting.
"Here." He called to her as he walked closer. "I am Arthur." He said, upon coming face to face with her.
"Arthur, High King of Briton?" She asked further, raising a skeptical eyebrow at the man who bore the title she had just doubted him to have. He seemed to have a face, too kind for a politician. She had known men of power to be far more arrogant and self-righteous than this man.
"Aye Lady, now may I ask who you are and why you interrupt us in our discourse." He asked in a polite manner.
"Go back to the bar wench!" Spoke one of the many Lords, only to be greeted by Arthur's glare. He did not know who this woman was, but he would not allow anyone to disrespect her in his presence.
She did not seem to mind the comments and whispers. She simply looked head on, no sign of intimidation within her. "Saxons knock on your door." She said in her same hushed voice.
"Tell us something we don't know wench!" Lycus shouted, erupting in some laughter from the other men in the room, even Bors.
"Silence Roman." She looked sharply at Lycus, threatening him with her glare. This woman seemed weak at that moment, but she looked as though she had a power within her, a presence, a commanding force. She turned back to Arthur and softened a little. "They are but a few months' ride from your citadel and I have no doubt that they will be here by the winter's first frost." She spoke. "I submit to the King of Briton and offer you my forces as my pledge. My allegiance is yours."
"Are you certain?" Arthur was stunned at the information she had just given them. He did not expect the Saxons to be that close. He thought that they would have had more time to prepare and obviously, he had been wrong. But then, she mentioned something else. "Forces my Lady?" Arthur said with mild curiosity. All he knew was that he had gathered all the commanders in the Isle. Another thing that caught his attention was that this was a woman; did she have an army at her beck and call?
"Aye my Lord." She nodded, reassuring him. "I have up to a little more than seventy strong. Don't be fooled by their small number, they have seen more bloodshed then some of the Romans that you have in this hall." She once again shot a sharp look at Lycus.
"Clearly the woman is mad Arthur. What army could she have? Who ever heard of a woman commanding an army?!" Lycus laughed at her.
"Rest assured Lord Lycus, that it is not such a folly as you think." A voice resonated from the back of the hall. It was Guinevere, the new Queen of Britain. She had a smile on her face, one that Arthur had yet to see on his bride. Instantly, Guinevere ran to the woman and threw her self unto a fierce embrace that one would expect of reunited acquaintances. "Alyanne!"
"Guinevere!" The woman spoke in great surprise at the quickened pace of events. "I thought you were dead." Alyanne spoke in the Woad tongue. She marveled as she tightened the embrace that they shared. Alyanne had been grieving for her for many moons and was now feeling more than elation upon seeing her current state of well-being. "Thank the heavens. I had lost all hope."
"Well, think on this as hope renewed."
"Pardon me, but I can't seem to follow." Arthur called the women's attention. "Guinevere, you know this woman?" He gestured to Alyanne.
"Aye Arthur!" She exclaimed, releasing the raven haired woman from her grasps. "She is of my kin, favored of Merlin, my cousin's wife, my former commander!" she elated.
"Your former commander?" The men asked in unison, especially the Knights.
"Aye. She is Alyanne, the Lady of the Lake, former commander of the Northern Woad forces. It was on her territory that we first defeated the Saxons and…" she swallowed. "where we saw Dagonet fall." She finished her statement with a heavy heart. Guinevere knew it was painful for her husband to remember the ordeal. "I fought beside her before I was captured." She said once again with darkness to her voice.
Alyanne could only stare at them in pain. Her eyes shut themselves almost involuntarily. The Lake. It had taken most of her life standing ground on that territory, making sure that no Saxon got through. She could see all of their faces as they floated on the shadowy waters. She could hear them plead for mercy. All the ghosts of her past. No. She opened her eyes. "She speaks the truth. But we no longer stand ground by the lake. I have moved my men towards here to protect the Wall. I rode ahead to announce their coming. They are but a few weeks behind me." She spoke, her voice getting weaker and weaker. She felt the room spinning around her and the heat engulfing her as if she had been thrown into a furnace.
"Your men?" Guinevere spoke once more in her native tongue. "You wield a sword once more?"
"There is little choice in the matter." Alyanne replied wearily.
"Kin to my wife and a commander of warriors! I must say that this is a wonderful surprise." He smiled. "You are very much welcome my Lady Alyanne and I eagerly welcome your allegiance." He laughed. The woman could not have come at a better time. Many Lords in the room rejoiced. More men could only mean a better chance at fighting off the Saxon horde. Though seventy men did not ensure a victory, the tipped the balances to better odds. Perhaps it was the elation of the moment that blinded people from the fact that Alyanne's face seemed to have had all blood drawn from it. She was white as a sheet.
"You are most gra---" she paused, feeling a faint. She fought it back and focused. "You are most gracious Arth---"She could not hold it any longer, before she could finish her sentence, Alyanne fell on the floors of the hall, unconscious.
-o-
Guinevere was pacing, her cousin had just fallen lifeless on the ground with not so much as a warning as to her condition. She immediately begged the Knights to pick her up and bring her to her rooms. It was Lancelot who acted quickly, swooping up the maiden in his arms and taking him to where his queen had directed. He walked up the stairs of the huge fortress, following Guinevere were she led, making sure not to stumble in his strides.
Finally, when they had reached the King and Queen's quarters, Alyanne was laid on the bed and Lancelot backed away from her, making space for Guinevere to examine her kin. Shortly, the other Knights arrived in the room, along with Arthur, all curious and concerned on what had just taken place.
"What has happened to her Guinevere?" Lancelot asked. He had seen women faint before but not like this. When he carried her, the woman seemed as light as a feather and he could see with this close proximity that she was paler than she seemed. Her face bore the markings of a true Woad warrior, but underneath, it seemed that only sadness could be traced, sadness that penetrated the depth of the skin.
"She is burning with fever." She said, her voice threatening the outburst of tears, held in by the fact that she had to remain calm about the entire matter. It was not often that the Lady Guinevere would lose her composure like this, but it seemed to all that she was immensely close to the woman who lay unconscious and thus there was no question as to her actions.
"Bragdon…" Alyanne mentioned in a faint voice. "Where is Bragdon?" she asked in her delirious state. She was weak, and yet managed to toss and turn in her distress. "Bragdon… Bragdon… Bragdon…"
"Who is Bragdon?" Tristan asked, picking up the hardly audible utterances. Not really expecting a reply, he was surprised when Guinevere turned to him.
"He husband, my cousin." She replied, before returning to gathering some water and ripping some cloths. She did not want to stop moving at the time. She did not want to leave space in her mind for contemplation about what was happening. She did not want to think on it, she just wanted to fix it all.
"Should we send for him? She said she rode ahead and that the rest were a few weeks away but I am sure we will find a way." Bors spoke. You could tell that his husbandly instincts were flaring up. God knows that if his Vanora had fallen deathly ill, she would want to be at her side, though he would deny it to anyone that asked.
Arthur was ready to give out the order, but Guinevere spoke and cut him off.
"Don't bother." She whispered solemnly. "Bragdon fell not two summers ago." She felt wretched for her cousin, whispering out the name of a man who would not come to her. Her heart ached for Alyanne. Guinevere knew that she would die if she was in the same position and Arthur would not come to her side. "Shhhh, quiet Alyanne. I am here." She cooed to her, stroking her curly hair. She knew it was not the same as having the reassuring voice of your husband to calm you down but it was all she could to attempt in soothing the distraught Alyanne. Guinevere turned to her husband with grave eyes. "I think we best send for my father." She said.
Immediately, Arthur turned to Tristan, his fastest rider and he nodded, understanding his mission. He quickly exited the room and headed for the stables.
"Is it that grave?" Arthur said, placing a hand on his wife's shoulder as she dabbed the water into the forehead of her beloved cousin. Still, she was calling out his name, Bragdon. Tears silently dropped from Guinevere's eyes.
There we go, the start to another wonderful journey. Please be advised that this was priorly posted in my other account, but I have decided to keep everything here just for the sake of uniformity. For those of you reading my other unfinished stories, well, they are in the works and will not be updated till I finish them as I have finished this. This story is finished until God knows what chapter and I will be posting it piece by piece. To those of you who have just come into my writing, welcome. And to those of you who have been with me since day one, welcome back. Please review. I will love you forever if you do.
Rita's back! And the oreos are back too!
