SAME DISCLAIMER AS IN CHAPTER 1
Sorry for the long hiatus, but life has been busy and this chapter demanded a lot of work and research.
I hope its length makes up for the delay in the update :-)
I found that it is not easy to rewrite legends, by the way, and I hope you enjoy my take on it. I certainly did have fun writing it.
Anyway, I am eager to read your opinions, so please indulge me and review if you can.
And for those celebrating it: Happy Easter!
Chapter 36: The rise of a legend
Sitting on a small boulder near the fire, Lescaut extended his leg swallowing a grunt. Though much better, the wound still hurt and riding through the night probably hadn't help.
The bright moonlight had accompanied their trip right up to the moonset and as the night became darker, the cavalry had halted to rest the horses and wait for the nearing dawn.
Some knights were tending their mounts while others were gathered around the fire. With everything seemingly in order, Lescaut's thoughts drifted to Helene, careful to only recall the way she had felt in his arms and the suppleness of her lips… He really preferred not to dwell on his feelings right now.
His actions had surprised him so much, he was still unsure whether he had kissed her or simply dreamt about it. Maybe the latter… The last couple of days had been especially chaotic and his never-failing control had been put to an extreme endurance test.
Whatever the case, he would deal with the consequences of his actions once his Princess was finally safe. Somehow he knew that Helene would have also wanted it that way, and even if only in a small measurement, the thought lifted some of the burden from his soul.
Absentmindedly observing the camp, suddenly his attention returned to reality… There was something amiss, though he couldn't identify what… A moment later it became clear, and directing his attention towards Sir Leon, he asked without preamble.
"Wasn't there more of you …?"
The knight turned, first surprised at the abrupt question and then half-amused at the not-so-subtle attitude of the Leoness' captain.
"Indeed…" he smiled condescendingly. "Three of us remained in Leoness and left after our main company…"
Lescaut frowned, not liking the change in plans a bit. "And why would they do that?"
Another small smile—this time leaning towards the arrogant side—adorned Leon's handsome features. "We have our codes, Captain. And our orders…" He was obviously speaking of the Prince, but only offered, "Our comrades stayed behind to make sure we were not followed… Or to warn us about it, were that the case."
Lescaut eyebrows shot up in a mixture of realization and admiration. As much as he hated to admit it, there was much to learn from the Camelot knights and their commander. Not even his father had thought of that, apparently, but the seasoned warriors of Prince Arthur obviously knew their drills very well.
He only nodded, regretting having jumped to conclusions too soon, and was about to add something when two other knights from Camelot—one of them clearly just arrived—came to the fire and spoke directly to Sir Leon.
"We are being followed…"
"So, are you going to look for the sword Ennyny mentioned?"
Arthur finished donning the jacket Merlin was holding and nodded, wishing he had his chainmail. It felt strange going into a quest without it.
"I do not think anyone can say no to Ennyny on anything…" he mused, half joking, half serious.
Merlin agreed with a smile, wondering about his charge's demeanor. He had been concerned about the Prince quizzing him on his trip to Bryn Myrddin, but apparently his worries had been unnecessary. They had barely exchanged words after supper, and Arthur seemed to be totally immersed in his world.
Nevertheless, his curiosity got the best of him. "Are you all right?"
The Prince frowned, confused at the out of the blue question. Once again, and without apparent reason, Merlin had asked him that. What would make his eccentric servant think differently?
"Why wouldn't I be?"
Good point. The young wizard realized he couldn't just disclose all he knew about his master's past. Thus, he came up with another—admittedly not too clever—reason.
"You seem… quiet?"
A mocking smile adorned the Prince's otherwise stern face. "Because… I don't prattle like you do?"
"Well…" The warlock thought for a moment. "Yes."
Arthur chuckled and fixed his belt. "I prefer not to speak unless I can improve the silence, Merlin…"
He slapped his servant's shoulder in his way out. "You should try that sometimes…"
Merlin laughed… The bickering was still there, and as long as that was the case, he knew Arthur was all right. Perhaps things with the Princess were slightly rough at the moment—some lovers' quarrel of sorts—and that could very well be the reason.
In any event, he was obviously not going to get any other answer. Sighing loudly, he headed towards the kitchen. Freshly baked bread should be surely waiting for him.
Lescaut stood up with a start; only to regret it a second later when a pang on his leg reminded him that it was still not fully healed.
"Followed? What do you mean? Who…"
Leon made a gesture with his hand to let the recently arrived knight speak.
"A couple of hours after your departure, a party of the Stewards' personal forces left the Citadel. They are about one hour behind and they are keeping their distance."
"They do not mean to join us…" Sir Leon spoke before Lescaut, voicing the same conclusion.
"No, they do not."
The soldiers exchanged serious looks and Sir Reginald spoke again. "It gets worse… They outnumber us two to one at least…"
There was an uneasy movement in the camp, everyone immediately understanding the implications.
"But they do mean to overpower us…"
Assenting with a brief nod, Leon immediately added. "Then why haven't they attacked us already? They could have caught up with us by now."
Reginald agreed. "Exactly… and yet they had camped as soon as their scout reported you have done so… They are waiting for us to make the next move."
The silence in the camp became heavy with uncertainty, and after seconds that felt like hours, was broken once again by Leon.
"Have they seen you, or the others?"
"No. Oswald and Garth are posted and well hidden and I circumvented their camp far enough." Sir Reginald sighed tiredly. "They will, however, figure out their scout is missing eventually… He saw me as I was arriving here and I had to kill him."
Another uneasy movement ran through the gathering. The news was certainly unsettling and the situation was rapidly deteriorating.
Meanwhile, Lescaut's brain had kept working in overdrive trying to figure out Ruther's plans. At last, it came to him.
"The Steward wouldn't dare to simply attack the Prince's soldiers and risk a war."
All eyes were on him at once, so he continued, dreading his next words. "However, I wouldn't put it past him to do so if it meant getting something he wants even more…"
Sir Leon nodded, finally understanding. "The Princess."
The kitchen was is full swing with people and early breakfast but Arthur was indifferent to it. He had been studying the very old parchment and map Ennyny had handled to him, trying the best he could to hide his disenchantment.
The sword was supposed to be not far away, in the forest, inside a cavern of sorts… However, the markings were so faded, it was difficult to make them out; not to mention that most of the still readable—barely—inscriptions were in Goidelic, of all languages.
"The cavern would be well hidden." The seer was saying. "Not in vane has been kept secret for so long. I believe you will have to solve some form of riddle to discover the entrance."
The Prince was playing with the small mirrors she had also handed him. They were oddly shaped and concave. The so-called riddle would allegedly indicate how to use them to mark the position of the evasive cave.
As far as the Prince was concerned, this was certainly a fools' errand. He would definitely not shy away from the challenge; yet he knew his chances of success were slim to none.
In any case, he figured he had nothing better to do at the manor… other than to wait for Lescaut, mull over the unsettling discoveries about his past and his father—of which he was already weary—and restrain his actions around Gwynn; the latter ostensibly harder by the minute. Therefore, the adventure was welcomed, no matter how fruitless.
Speaking of futility, he was about to ask Ennyny about the riddle when Gwynn's voice made him turn towards the door.
"The day couldn't be more beautiful. Nothing like the rain to bring about the best Nature has to offer…"
The old lady smiled and Arthur instantly forgot his question, and possibly the entire conversation at the sight of the radiant grin of the Princess. Her soft blush told him she was also affected by his presence and, though pleased by the realization, his brain still refused to produce a coherent comment, or to notice her riding clothes for that matter. Fortunately, she greeted him first, providing precious seconds for his speech to return.
"Good morning, my lord."
"Good morning Princess."
Merlin was looking amused at the absurdly formal interchange. Someone should definitely tell them that they were too obvious so they'd stop pretending.
"And are you going to tell them so, Emrys?"
Of course… Ennyny knew. For once, he did not choke and merely smiled further before going back to his porridge.
"Are we ready?" Gwynn collected the mirrors to put them in her bag, when Arthur came out of his enthrallment and grabbed her wrist in a gentle but nonetheless firm grasp.
"What do you mean we?"
Her perfect eyebrows rose in surprise as if what he had asked was exceedingly evident. "I am coming with you."
The warlock immediately recognized the Prince's blank expression. Arthur had no intention of taking the Princess and was not willing to yield… He bit his inner cheek trying to remain impassible. This was going to be fun.
"I do not think so, Princess."
Reading his intention correctly, Gwynn saw through the knight's assuaging charade and responded with the same faked sweetness.
"Then think again, Prince."
In Merlin's experience, there was nothing more effective to ignite Arthur's temper than having his decisions openly challenged. Surely enough, the phony smile of his master instantly morphed into a severe scowl.
"You are not going…"
"I beg your pardon?" Only one of her eyebrows arched this time, warningly.
Already riled and with no intention to delay his departure any longer, the Prince tried to grab the mirrors from her hand, but she clenched it tighter.
"Gwynn… It might be dangerous."
Alas, the conciliatory tone did not fool anyone and her icy reply also spoke of an unyielding resolution.
"I think I have proven to you that I can defend myself…"
With his patience virtually gone, Arthur's voice became downright commanding. "That is besides the point. I have not saved you so you can put yourself in danger again."
Bad choice of words.
Merlin knew it, Ennyny knew it; unfortunately it seemed that the Prince did not… Gwynn's eyes narrowed furiously.
"Are you implying that I should be so thankful that you have come to my rescue that I should remain forever bound to do your bidding?"
Oh, yes. That was fun. His charge was digging a hole around himself and Merlin was enjoying every minute of it.
Although Arthur had really liked the sound of her statement—particularly the part of forever doing his bidding—he didn't dare to voice it. Instead, he simply sighed in exasperation.
"Of course not! How can you say something like that? " And looking for an ally, the Prince turned to the seer. "My lady Ennyny… please, help me here…"
Shockingly, however, Ennyny deserted him without reservation and simply shrugged her shoulders. "You will need someone else, Arthur..."
Taken aback by such blunt… disservice, the Prince quickly recovered and produced a viable alternative. "Merlin will come with me."
Entertainment and breakfast instantaneously forgotten, the warlock looked up. How was it that he had been dragged into this without even saying a word?
He had hoped to speak at length with Ennyny about the things he had learned the day before… Not to mention he was not supposed to aid Arthur in this quest, as sufficiently warned by Myddryn…
Fortunately, the seer came to his rescue. "He cannot. He had yet to relate the details of the errand he fulfilled yesterday upon my request…" She sipped her tea ceremoniously, as if enjoying the ongoing battle of wills. "Besides, the inscriptions in the map and the parchments are in Goidelic, and unless your progress with the language has been nothing short of miraculous, I think you'll need Finnabair."
Utterly appalled, Arthur grunted in frustration. "This is a confabulation!"
At this point of the events—and unable to restrain his amusement any longer—Merlin began to chuckle, but a glare from his master told him to stay out of it. Gwynn, on the other hand, had a smug smile on her face… She had won and the Prince was trapped.
Not one to give up so easily though, the Camelot heir spoke again in the regal tone he used when he wanted to prevent any objections.
"All right. But if you are coming with me there will be some rules." He stressed.
"Rules?"
"Yes. Rules." He paused briefly for effect. "Since you are a… walking target, there will be no horse racing. No search for birds or lost springs…" The Princess was already opening her mouth to verbalize her outrage but Arthur beat her to it. "And, under any circumstances, no arguing with me."
"You…"
Once again, Ennyny leveled the field. "Arthur is right, Finnabair. You should do as he considers best."
Just like that, the smug smile changed faces and the Prince wore it arrogantly, enjoying his small victory… In return, the furious eyes also switched color and were now flashing green.
The old lady continued. "You two are burning daylight. You must reach the cave before high noon or you'll never find it. Go… Be careful and come back soon."
Understanding the pointlessness of further arguments, Arthur and Gwynn looked at each other silently making peace—somehow—and prepared to leave.
As soon as they were gone, Ennyny turned to Merlin, visibly excited. "Now my boy, I need you to tell me what you have learned from Myddrin about the broken Morrigans' line… Can it be fixed? "
"We need to change routes. We cannot have them following us to Caerfyrddin."
Lescaut's statement did not need further explanation. Riding there would mean not only to put the Princess' life at risk, but also to disclose the last safe haven of the royal lady.
"Should we attack them?" Sir Reginald offered, also knowing the worthlessness of the idea.
The silence that followed was answer enough. Attacking would achieve nothing and could risk too much. If they were defeated—however unlikely—everything would be lost, and that was a gamble no one was willing to take at that time.
"We are running out of time." Lescaut's impatience was mounting. "They will soon realize their scout is missing. We need a plan and…"
Throughout the debate, the veteran Sir Leon had been silent, thinking of all possible courses of actions and trying to decide the best one. At last he spoke, interrupting the Leoness captain's diatribe.
"We will split and try to lose them."
The idea seemed naïf and impractical to most of them. They were scarcely more than a dozen and the division would only weaken them. With all eyes on him, the knight turned towards Lescaut, who was frowning and ready to voice his disagreement.
"Is there another route to Caerfyrddin. An indirect one?"
The frown on the young captain transmuted into a quizzical expression… What was Sir Leon driving to?
"There is an alternate path" He nodded. "But it would extend the journey possible by a day. The last time my father took us through the forest to ensure we would not be followed. Not far from here, there is a spring that spawns into several streams. One of those opens to the sea just east of the manor."
Leon's taut expression had been softening as he was listening to the description. Maybe his plan had more chances of success than he had first thought…
"Go on…"
"I believe I might be able to take you through there… and if the intention is to lose them, I cannot think of a better place…" A bit more enthusiastic, the young captain elaborated. "We can even hide our trail on the water. If memory serves me right, the flow should be shallow enough."
"That is excellent. Show me the path…" Leon handed him a stick signaling the ground, and the royal guard began drawing a schematic on the soft sand.
"We are here and the manor is here…" Lescaut explained marking the spots on the ground. He then proceeded to trace the alternate route following the stream.
"Even better…" Leon spoke again looking at the paths. "If we leave confusing trails, they may even choose to follow the other river. It would be a while until they realize we've lost them and that might buy us enough time to reach Caerfyrddin and the royals."
Everyone was in agreement. Although somehow improvised, the plan had more chances of success than thought at first. Moreover, it was certainly better than any of the other options at hand.
"In any case," Lescaut reasoned. "We should probably keep moving, though slower at first so they can pick up our new trail. We cannot risk either letting them know we are aware of their presence… nor to continue through this route, which would take them directly to Caerfyrddin."
Reginald and Leon exchanged a knowingly look. Despite of his youth and somehow short temper, the Princess' guard was undoubtedly very sharp; and he was right.
"Go back to Oswald and Garth and let them know of our plan." Leon addressed Reginald. "We will gather on this point." He marked a location on the makeshift map on the ground. "Make sure to meet us there."
The knight nodded and squared his shoulders, closing his right fist over his heart in salute.
"Be safe my friend."
And with Leon's farewell, the stealthy soldier disappeared once again.
Against his wishes, Arthur had to internally agree that bringing Gwynn along had proven more than helpful. The map was deceivably simple… and was completely wrong.
In the first bifurcation, he would have surely taken the obvious route following the drawing. However, the Goidelic inscription next to it—an anagram no less!— instructed them to take the other one. After that, in two other occasions the Princess' interpretation of the captions had pointed their path to the opposite direction that the one supposedly indicated by the chart.
It was clear that the map was intended to be deciphered by someone not only with sufficient knowledge of the strange language, but also literate enough to understand and solve anagrams.
Someone highly educated.
That stratagem alone had surely been an excellent way to protect the mystical sword from undeserving hands… The Prince knew well that literacy was still scarce in the lands, and could only fathom that centuries ago would have been even more rare…
Once again, it was apparent that Ennyny had everything meticulously planned. Arthur smirked. Having known the seer for only a few days—actually hours to be exact—he could not help but to feel absolutely captivated by her antics and endless wisdom…
Turning towards his riding companion, Arthur saw the Princess conscientiously studying the map with an adorable frown on her brow. She had barely spoken, except for when it was necessary, and he knew she was still partially mad at him. Rather than feeling guilty, however, he found himself enjoying every minute of it.
Winning an argument with this lady was certainly not a common occurrence, and for once, he had gotten the upper hand and she had been… forced—he figured the term applied—to bend to his wishes; more precisely, his rules. That suited him perfectly.
As an added benefit, the current adventure helped to deviate his attention from his recently discovered feelings towards the Princess. Although he had decided to seriously speak with her about what was in his heart, the truth was that he had no idea how to breach the subject. Being with Finnabair like this was certainly a more than welcome substitute—albeit a temporary one—to the thorny subject of their uncertain future.
The last thoughts were threatening to damp his previously uplifted disposition, and were luckily interrupted by her next words.
"I think we have arrived…"
Looking around in confusion, the Prince sighed in disappointment. "There is nothing here…"
The anxious soldier finally reached the Steward's forces. He'd been sent as a replacement for the missing scout but couldn't find him anywhere. He had next followed what he thought were the tracks of the knights and failed at it too. At that point, running away seriously crossed his mind, since going back to Gallau's squadron would have certainly meant forfeiting his life…
Then his luck had seemingly changed.
After losing the trail of the Camelot party—and already desperate—he had gone around in circles trying in vain to pick up the track when, out of nowhere, he had bumped onto the trail of other riders. Hopefully, that would earn him clemency from the commander.
As soon as he stepped into the clearing, Gallau went to him wasting no time to make his impatience known.
"You are despicably late! Where are they going?"
"I am not sure, sir. The trail fades over the stream… They wandered into the forest apparently… But they must have gone by the water, as there are no tracks…"
Just as the scout had feared, the commander's temper flared.
"Do you mean to tell me we have lost them?" he roared grabbing the man by the throat.
Finding breathing difficult, the soldier nodded, his eyes panicked. In an effort to save—literally—his neck, he choked.
"But I… I've spotted the Camelot Prince, sir… and Princess Gwynn..."
Gallau let go of the man as if his hand had suddenly burnt and swallowed hard. He had not expected, possibly not even want to hear that. He really would have preferred to remain hidden as a watchdog.
Things were becoming quite complicated, and it seemed that Ruther's suspicions had been correct. Gurgeneu had obviously failed and by then, the Princess and the Prince were most likely aware of the Steward's conspiracy.
Assassinating the royals was a sordid deed, one that he had been hoping not to be forced to execute. Not to mention that killing the Camelot heir would mean to unleash the wrath of Uther Pendragon on them.
Then again, it was his head that was at stake. And when all was said and done, if the Steward had been astute enough to foresee this, he might have had an alternate plan as well.
"Where?"
"A couple of miles to the north. They are alone."
"And what's the last direction you picked from the Camelot knights before you lost them?"
"Going west."
At least some decent news. Perhaps they could make it look like an attack of bandits.
Yes. That was a good idea. Gallau called on his next in command.
"Take a handful of men with you and kill them. Make it look like a robbery. We will follow shortly."
From the distance, Sir Oswald noticed the split in the Steward's force and went back to Sir Reginald.
"It seems as if they have stopped following our party… A group of them is now heading north."
Sir Reginald narrowed his eyes. That was unexpected… and dangerous.
"They might have spotted something." He turned to the third knight. "Garth… go and advise Sir Leon of what's going on. Hurry up. We'll follow the smaller party to see where they are headed."
Contrary to the initial notion, the royals soon discovered that there was indeed something behind the bushes.
Down the hill, and partly hidden by the forest and the morning mist, they could see a large paved circle surrounded by eight enormous pillars. Grass had grown relentlessly through the multiple cracks of the stony floor, but it was still visible.
"Isca Silurum…" Gwynn murmured in awe.
Already taken aback by the massive appearance of the ruins, Arthur was further surprised that she would recognize it. "Do you know this place?"
"Only by name…" She continued in a slow, reverential tone. "My mother used to tell me tales of it… But I thought it was just a legend…"
"We need to get down." The Prince stated. "Whatever we need to find, it should be there."
They dismounted and continued on foot. The way down was not easy and it would have been impossible for the horses to negotiate the steep hillside, slippery with moss and recent rain.
At the bottom, their surprises continued. In the middle of the bigger circle—which looked even larger from where they stood—there was a smaller, stranger one. It was also parted in eight sections, each bearing an odd symbol engraved in the rock.
Kneeling on the ground, Gwynn used her hand to clear the dust and weeds from one of the marks. Her sharp intake of air caught Arthur's attention but before he could ask about it, she had moved to the next marking, doing the same, and then to a third one.
"Oh, Gods…"
Effectively intrigued, the Prince moved closer and looked at the embossed inscription. It did not tell him anything.
"What is it?"
"Unbelievable…" She could barely speak amidst her amazement. "These markings… I've seen them before…"
"Where?"
"The round table…"
"Round table?"
Standing up again, the Princess cleaned her hand on her dress, visibly shaken. "In Eleara… There is a room with a round table in it, which exactly resembles this inner circle …" And looking at the puzzlement on the Prince's face, she knew she would have to elaborate. "My mother told me that one of my ancestry lines comes from the Silures. Do you know of them?"
Very much confused, Arthur nodded. He had heard stories about the legendary clan of locals that challenged the foreign invaders centuries ago, resisting admirably, never to be conquered. Gwynn continued.
"My mother said that the table in Eleara was a tribute to their history, built a long time ago to remember how the Silures survived the great conquest undefeated. She said that they had a very wise social structure without king or lord. Rather, a council of equals tended to the government. They would sit in a circle like this one, and everyone was allowed to speak their mind. Decisions were made with the contribution of all… That was their strength." She shook her head in incredulity. "For many years I thought those tales were just stories my mother invented to feed my avid imagination." And looking at Arthur with undisguised emotion, she finished. "This… this is part of my past…"
Inhaling deeply, the Prince gently grabbed her shoulders and embraced her ever so daintily, lending his body for support and comfort. Even though her words had only further his confusion to a point of dizziness, he knew Gwynn needed him at that moment and thus his questions could wait.
After some minutes of solemn silence, he spoke against her hair, between surprised and amused. "Perhaps Ennyny had ulterior motives to send you with me…"
The tacit implication made Gwynn smile over his chest, and her muffled chuckle told the Prince she was thinking along the same lines.
They would have time to reflect on this later. But noon was fast approaching and they had yet to find the sword.
That was, if there was a sword; Arthur pondered. Maybe this trip was just a machination of the seer to have him escorting the Princess to find a piece of her lineage. He definitely wouldn't put it past the crafty old lady.
Tenderly kissing her forehead, he decided to keep moving. "Now then… What else does the parchment say?"
Still a bit dazed by the discovery, Gwynn moved back and translated the writings.
"A great leader channels glory into the company, not the self. He looks in the mirror and at himself."
No one spoke for a moment, both trying to think what it could mean. The Princess pulled the mirrors from her bag.
"Would these hold the key then…?"
Grabbing one of them, Arthur inspected it carefully. Mirrors and a light of sunshine at high noon… The idea seemed plausible.
"We might need to position the mirrors in some specific locations before noon… But where?"
For all she knew, that was a rhetorical question for which there was no discernible answer yet. Squeezing her brain trying to make sense of it all, Finnabair kept playing with a mirror on her own when the reflection of one of the marks jolted her memory.
"Prudence…" She whispered so low the Prince didn't hear her.
Moving some steps away to the next mark, she put the mirror in top of it. Surely enough, the reflection made sense again.
"Mercy…" She read, this time louder.
By then, her actions had definitely captured Arthur's attention. "What is it?"
"The marks…" She smiled triumphantly. "I can read them through the mirrors… They are Goidelic symbols… in reverse."
In two strides the Prince was standing next to her. "What do they say?"
She went around the circle, reciting the rest: "Temperance… humility… justice… endurance… devotion…" Finally stepping on top of the last one. "And courage..."
Prudence, mercy, temperance, humility, justice, endurance, devotion and courage…
Astonished, both immediately recognized the inscriptions. Those were virtues from the chivalric code of honor. It made sense that the circle—built by the fierce warriors that managed to keep the invaders at bay—would encompass them.
It was in that moment that the Prince had his epiphany. A leader looks in the mirror and at himself.
That was the riddle and Arthur immediately realized this was his test.
They had four mirrors… Therefore, out of all those virtues, he would have to choose four. And only the right answer would open the entrance to the cave.
As usual, Ennyny had known exactly what she was doing. Finnabair was there to help him understand the symbols, but the choices were his and only his.
High noon was nearing and—though not fond of riddles or mind games—the Prince knew he had to make a decision quickly.
So be it…
If he had to choose, which four of the eight virtues would he really want to master to be a good King? Better yet… a great leader as the parchment said.
Courage was his first option. Any great leader should have it in spades. Courage meant forbearance and the ability to confront fear and uncertainty. He put the first mirror on top of the mark without hesitation.
Moving on, he pondered on temperance. That seemed like a proper choice as well. His short temper had been his worst enemy more times than the cared to count. Thus, it stood to reason that no other virtue could be sustained if he had the inability to control himself and his own desires. He signaled Finnabair to put another mirror over that mark.
Quietly, the Princess did as requested, all the while experiencing a sense of wonder the likes of which she had never felt before. Despite her ongoing bewilderment, Gwynn had the keen intuition that she had been made privy to a very significant occasion: Arthur's choices were revealing the future King that he would one day be… and she mutely thanked the Gods for giving her the privilege of being there with him.
Oblivious of what was going through her mind, Arthur kept busy with the task at hand. There were two more to go, and his next option came naturally to him at the thought of his father.
Justice. He would be a fair leader, something that his father was not. King Uther was a feared and resented ruler, and the Prince knew he would inherit a heavy load of hatred towards Camelot's throne because of it. Once in power, he would need to amend many of his father's wrongdoings, and for that he would have to render to each and all what was due to them. The third mirror found its place on the ground.
Finally, it was one left. The options had multiplied, however, since he had to choose only one out of the five remaining, all equally desirable virtues in a leader.
Which one would that be? This last decision was difficult and time was running out.
"You have a good heart, Arthur. Listen to it." Ennyny had said, but he wished he had her confidence. Having her wisdom wouldn't hurt either in such circumstances…
A ghost of a smile appeared in his handsome face. He just had wished he had… wisdom.
Would the seer have planned everything? Somehow he guessed he would never know that for sure. In any case, and whether purposely or not, Ennyny had helped him with his last choice.
After all, prudence would be able to rule over all others virtues too… Arthur briefly wondered why he hadn't chosen it first and instead had picked 'courage' with absolute conviction.
The answer came to him almost immediately: courage was something with which he was familiar. Nonetheless, he had to admit that there had been instances when his 'untamed' courage had bordered plain recklessness. It then became clear to him how much he had yet to learn… With prudence, thus, he hoped one day being able to master them all.
At last, he placed the remaining mirror over the mark and sighed. If he was wrong, let it be so. In his heart, however, he sensed it was right.
Only then he looked back where Gwynn was standing and was startled by the unabashed admiration shining through her eyes. The sight alone made him almost blush.
"What?"
The Princess spoke with a low voice, full of a barely concealed emotion. "I believe you have chosen the cardinal virtues, my lord."
Somewhere in his mind the word rang a bell… He hadn't been aware of it, but now that she had mentioned it, he loosely remembered his old tutors' philosophical teachings. Gwynn was right: prudence, temperance, justice and courage were indeed the four cardinal virtues…
Fully embarrassed by the obvious lack of attention he had paid to his studies during his youth, he tried to think of something to say to save some dignity in front of Finnabair, but did not have the chance.
It was already high noon and a ray of sunshine directly hit the first mirror on the ground, shooting its reflection to the second, and the third, and the last one. The four reflected rays then came to a conjunction, and the brighter beam shoot up over some brushes, refracting on a speck of quartz on a large boulder. An instant later, everything disappeared.
Arthur walked slowly towards the boulder and put his hand over the spot that the light had marked a moment ago. With a heavy noise, the huge rock moved, tipped to one side, and rolled off the mound.
Ennyny opened her eyes from her nap, visibly panicked. Her breath was coming in short gasps and she called for Wledyr, who immediately rushed to the parlor, very much worried by the unusually frightened call.
"What is it grandmother? Are you all right?"
The seer frantically grabbed her hand; her lifeless eyes widened in fear. "Finnabair… Finnabair and Arthur are in mortal danger Wledyr… We must send for help!"
"Calm down… calm down…"
In spite of her soothing words, Wledyr felt her blood freezing in her veins. She knew that her grandmother rarely had visions of imminent events. The gift of the seer was to foresee distant, potential futures, rather than upcoming incidents.
Only once before she had seen Ennyny in that state, and although she had been young when that happened, the images were still imprinted in her memory… It had been the day that Finnabair's family had died…
"What can I do? Tell me…"
Trying to settle down a bit, Ennyny drank the water her granddaughter was offering.
"Merlin…"
The Prince stepped back in surprise. He had just laid his hand on the spot and yet the boulder moved out as if he had pushed it with all his might. He turned around and smiled at the child-like excitement on Finnabair's face. His own heart was beating faster in anticipation.
Recovering quickly, though, he moved to the cave. "Stay here…"
His bidding stopped the Princess in her tracks and she opened her mouth, ready to protest. The arched eyebrows of the Prince, however, silently challenged her to say another word.
Right… the rules…
Annoyed, she crossed her arms on her chest and remained on her spot while an amused Arthur disappeared inside. After walking for a couple of yards, the Prince noticed that the cave made a sharp turn left and then down, and without the benefit of the exterior's radiance, it was pitch black. He would need a torch.
Outside again, he soon found a wooden log that could be of use. Unfortunately, everything was still wet from the previous day's rain and it would be quite difficult to light it. The Princess, meanwhile, was observing him curiously.
"What is it?"
"It's too dark inside… I need a torch."
Gwynn smiled. That was her opportunity. With a flip of her hand, she kindled the branch like she usually did with the candles.
Busy with his search for something to ignite the fire, Arthur did not notice anything until the crackling of the burning wood made him look at the other end of the log still in his hand. It was burning.
Surmising what she'd done right away, he smiled. "That's certainly handy."
A second later, however, the flame disappeared. The Prince shot a confused glance at Gwynn, and when he saw her grinning complacently, his eyes narrowed in clear warning.
"What are you doing?"
"I can light it again… if you let me come with you."
"You are not bargaining your way in…" he frowned.
"Suit yourself." Shrugging her shoulders, she sat back on a boulder. "It is your time we are wasting… With only wet wood laying around, I imagine it will take more that a couple of sparks to ignite anything… "
Looking at the sky in a silent pray for patience, Arthur finally sighed in defeat and conceded.
"All right… You can come…" And with a devious smirk dancing on his lips, he forewarned. "But I am not carrying you if there are crawling creatures in the cave…"
Happy with her victory, Gwynn had already reached his side when his words brought her to a standstill.
"Crawling creatures…?"
Arthur smiled even more deviously, but his voice maintained the same casual tone. "Well… It's a cave that has been closed for centuries after all. Could you please light up the torch?"
Still reeling from the idea of the prospective inhabitants of the cave, Gwynn did as she was asked and the wet wood crackled again with flames. She smiled nervously.
"What do you think lives in there?"
The nonchalant response of the Prince did not help at all with her apprehension. "Nothing major I hope… Except perhaps some snakes… probably rats…" He had to swallow a smirk while watching her disgusted expression grow. " And spiders…"
"Spiders?"
Nodding with fake seriousness, his eyes opened wider to stress the picture. "Possibly big ones…"
Her downright repugnance was absolutely priceless… Who would have thought that the warrior Princess would be afraid of spiders?
Women…
Arthur finally moved in, shaking his head in amusement. As much as he was enjoying the situation, they were wasting precious time.
"Don't worry… I'll make sure you don't step on any…"
They descended in the cave for several moments until they got to a fairly large niche… Right in the middle, there was a sword embedded in a stone.
"Well… that's the end of our journey." Arthur sighed, sheathing his own weapon. "Either Ennyny did not know of it, or she failed to mention that we will need an army of drillers to get the sword out."
Gwynn ignored his sarcastic comment and instead focused on the Goidelic inscriptions carved on the rock.
"I was once called Fragarach. My blade Caladcholg was forged in the hearth of these lands, blessed with the blood of their people. He, who deserves me, will pull me free and unite the tribes. He who is undeserving, will burn with my fire."
Next to her, the Prince was carefully inspecting the sword. "It is certainly magnificent…" He murmured. Then he noticed the engravings. "The blade has inscriptions too…"
Redirecting her attention to where he was pointing, the Princess read out loud. "Qui audet adipiscitur…"
"He who dares, wins …" Arthur translated, almost mechanically.
"Do you know the language of the invaders?"
There was more than a hint of surprise in her voice, and the knight complained pretending to be affronted. "You really must think me a rustic, brute warrior Princess…"
"Of course not! I did not mean…"
But he chuckled dismissively, still absorbed at the sight of the sword. "Truth is, many books from where I studied were written in that language…"
Inwardly berating herself for her unfortunate words, Gwynn looked down fully embarrassed. Meanwhile, Arthur's eyes remained fixated on the exquisite carvings of the hilt.
His gaze darted back to the inscription: "He who dares, wins…"
The maxim seemed oddly appropriate. After all he had made it this far. Thus, why not? Handling the torch to Finnabair, he grabbed the sword.
As soon as his fingers closed on the grip, a beam of blinding light shot out the slit on the stone illuminating the entire niche. Arthur easily pulled the blade out, amazed beyond words.
The sword seemed to shine on its own, the centuries' old erosion instantly fading. Out of reflex, he tried the cutting edge and his finger bled. It was perfectly sharp.
Outstanding…
There were inscriptions on the other side of the blade too and he read them, reverentially. "Spectemur agendo…"
In total amazement, Gwynn's eyes found his and they both translated in unison. "By our deeds we are known…"
The fascination gleaming in her eyes was as blinding as the light itself, and Arthur had to make a herculean effort to resist kissing her right there. He needed to find the way to tell her about his feeling, but somehow—and though not an expert in romanticism—his intuition hinted that a humid, musty cave was possibly not the best stage.
He lowered the sword and the brightness disappeared. "Let's go."
Merlin did not know what had happened. One minute he had been riding like the devil was on his tail; the next the air had been sucked out of his lungs by a massive blow; and now a sword was at his neck. Would he dare to open his eyes?
"Merlin!"
The sound of his name effectively prompted his eyelids to open and he was relieved beyond words at the sight of a surprised familiar face.
"Sir Leon!"
Recovering soon, the knight pulled him to his feet. "What are you doing here?"
"I was going to warn Arthur…"
Sir Leon frowned and grabbed his shoulder, urging him. "Speak at once Merlin. These are dangerous times."
"The Prince and the Princess are in the forest not far from here I think. The mistress of the house is frantic with fear. She had a vision… They are in danger."
Although disjointed and seemingly incoherent, his explanation made complete sense to everyone around.
Sir Lescaut spoke next, his tone full of anxiety. "Where are they?"
But before Merlin could answer, Sir Garth arrived from what had obviously been another breakneck ride.
"The Steward's forces had stopped following your trail. They must have spotted something and they're heading north."
In spite of the fact that the warning explained the imminent danger, it was still confusing for the warlock but he didn't have time to say anything else.
Immediately mounting again, Sir Leon ordered him. "Go back to the house, Merlin. We'll take care of this."
The young wizard doubted for a second. He was worried for his master, but Ennyny was very agitated and Wledyr was alone with her. He was trying hard to decide where his presence would be more needed when the voice of Kilgharrah sounded in his head.
"The seer needs you more, young warlock. Time is of essence and you have yet much to learn. You need to go to her. For once, you should do as I say."
They had only moved a couple of steps out the entrance, when a threatening rumbling coming from the inside made them look back. To their further astonishment, the cavern was rapidly collapsing and in a matter of seconds, there was nothing left.
Letting out a long breath he did not know he had been holding, Arthur spoke.
"I suppose we should have been expecting something like this…" And turned to her. "Are you all right?"
Gwynn nodded, hardly shocked though. In hindsight, and with the overly bizarre chain of events of the day, the collapse of the cave was not even noteworthy. Her eyes went to the sword. Finally they would be able to take a better look...
Following her gaze, the Prince moved to swing the blade, further amazed at its daunting wheezing sound. Absolutely engrossed with his new weapon, he tried some more movements.
It was perfect. The balance, the weight… Wielding it made him feel almost… invincible; as absurd as the idea surely was.
Lost in his musings, he looked at Gwynn who was smiling with a mixture of approval and mischievousness. As soon as he halted his practice spellbound by her eyes, she purposely walked towards where he was standing, and stopped only mere inches from him.
For a moment, Arthur thought she was going to kiss him and his mouth dried out… Only to realize a second later that she had unsheathed his regular sword in one swift motion.
"Care for a sparring my lord?"
He didn't know what it was more frustrating, if the fact that she hadn't kiss him or that he could never anticipate her movements. But he had to laugh…
"Of course not."
"Oh… come on." She taunted. "You have the advantage of the mystical sword… Surely you can't be afraid, can you?"
"Baiting my pride won't get you anywhere my lady. We shall return. You know the rules…"
Scoffing flippantly, the Princess swirled his sword around. "The rules did not say anything about sparring…"
She charged forward and he blocked the strike. "We are not doing this Gwynn."
Quick on her feet, she turned around and sent another blow, which he also stopped deftly. "We are going home."
The Princess stepped back a little, measuring him... Then, she challenged.
"Do you think you can make me?"
Arthur pondered his options. He could easily disarm her…Maybe.
Or, he could indulge in the temptation and teach her an overdue lesson at the same time…
As wonderful as the latter idea was—specially teaching her a lesson—he did not want to spend any more time in the forest than absolutely necessary.
In that precise instant, however, his warrior's instincts prickled and he looked around, his entire body in alert. He hastily grabbed her arm.
"Hide."
"What?"
A strong pull sent her flying over a boulder and she landed heavily on the floor, next to him.
"Ouch! Brute!"
"Shush… We're surrounded."
Inconspicuously peeking from behind some leaves, she saw his uncle's mercenaries coming down the hill through the forest and advancing towards their hideout.
"They found us!" The hushed tone couldn't completely disguise her obvious alarm. "How?"
Too strung to worry about irrelevant details, the Prince did not answer, his brain was quickly processing the odds.
Four men finally appeared in the clearing and one of them spoke out loud. "They should be close. Their horses are near… Look around."
"Maybe we can take them…" Gwynn whispered.
But Arthur shook his head. He had spotted more coming down the hill.
"They are too many." He signaled and she saw them too.
"What do we do then?"
The Prince spoke calmly and almost absentmindedly, his eyes scanning the area for possible ways out. "If there was ever a time to try your full powers, Princess, I suggest you do it now."
She looked at him as if he had lost his mind. "What? They are not candles… or wooden logs!"
Her terrorized eyes confirmed what Arthur had already surmised… She was truly afraid of her powers. If there had been any doubts left about her honesty—which there wasn't—her sarcastic and nervous statement had erased them for good.
In any event, their odds were very bad. He couldn't take all of them… and he was not about to let her fight. Just his luck, Gwynn seemed to have been reading his thoughts, and to his ultimate annoyance she categorically stated.
"I am fighting."
"No, you are not. It's too dangerous."
"Oh, and I suppose that sitting here and waiting for them to kill you is safer? Really, your highness, for such seasoned warrior you don't seem to be too good at weighting the odds…"
"I told you already, insulting my pride will not get you anywhere. Not now at least. You are not fighting and that's the end of it."
Perhaps her sharp intake of air should have been a hint. Her tone, however, was deceptively calm.
"And what do you propose then?"
"There is an opening over there..." He pointed. "I'll buy you some time. You'll run as fast as your feet can take you. The horses should not be far. Ride hastily and do not look back."
Too distracted assessing the situation, Arthur did not notice the abrupt change in her expression. The memory of her mother's last words struck her with full force after so many years, sucking the air our of her lungs. She would never heed them again.
Nevertheless, and amidst her turmoil, she also knew it would be useless to argue the point with the stubborn Prince. After a pause to recompose herself, she acquiesced.
"All right."
Having been expecting a strong opposition, Arthur had even been contemplating the idea of tying her up in their small hideout to ensure she wouldn't do something reckless. He lifted one eyebrow and studied her. It was obvious she had another plan…
"Finnabair…" His voice carried the same warning as his eyes.
"I said all right Arthur! Sometimes there is just not pleasing you, is there?"
The impatience of her reply made him smile in spite of the circumstances, and the Prince doubted his sanity. They were more likely to meet their fate there, and he was finding the situation with her frankly amusing. He shook his head and regained his focus.
"Fair enough… On the count of three I'll jump out and when they come to me, you run… Understood?"
She nodded and moved around, crouching, to position herself in front of the path she should follow.
"One…"
Firmly grabbing his sword, Gwynn took a deep breath, her eyes trained on the forest. Arthur looked at her profile, absurdly thinking he would've wanted to have one last look at her face. Perhaps even a last kiss. But since she was concentrated on her race, so be it. Her safety was his only concern…
"Two…"
Without warning, Gwynn jumped out of their cover leaving Arthur dumbfounded one second, and cursing inwardly the next.
That woman did not know how to count!
Her sudden movement effectively caught the attention of the two mercenaries on the right, who immediately followed her into the forest. In the confusion, some of the other soldiers came into view, giving Arthur a better chance to surprise them.
Then hell broke lose…
Relieved that at least she had gotten away, Arthur used the boulder to protect his back, and by virtue of the fantastic sword, managed to defeat everyone who dared to approach him.
However, as more soldiers began to pour out of the forest, he knew he wouldn't last too long. It was obvious that, though a sizeable one, this had been only a scouting party; the larger force was likely fast approaching.
Just when he thought the end was near, Gwynn reappeared and joined the fight. The momentary shock at her unexpected return almost cost him dearly, but her opportune intervention prevented the enemy sword to find its mark.
Fully recovered from the surprise, rather than thanking her the Prince swore between teeth. She had not only disobeyed him… She had known exactly what to do and had risked her life so he would have a better chance… If he weren't so sure he would die soon, he would lock her up in a tower and threw the key away so she would never, ever, scare him like this again.
"I told you to go away!" He yelled between strikes.
"And I did…"
Her casual reply only enraged him further. "Do not mock me woman! I did not tell you to came back!"
She was holding her ground quite well and seemed perfectly at ease dodging and delivering lethal blows. Her next matter-of-fact statement was proof enough of that.
"We'd have a better chance together…"
It was true, actually. They were systematically defeating the arriving soldiers who, fortunately, were coming down from the hill in scattered numbers due to the steep slope surrounding the ruins.
But Arthur couldn't care less at the moment, as he was having a nightmarish déjà vu of yet another fight in which he would have rather been twisting her gorgeous neck than killing his opponents.
"For once in your life… do as you are told!" His fury had turned him into a raging tornado of death, and his adversaries were falling left and right.
She dealt a mortal strike to yet another foe and shouted back, equally infuriated. "I'm not leaving you here. This is my fight, not yours!"
The ensuing argument came to a halt when the sound of approaching hooves reached their ears. Up the hill, the mercenary main squadron was already visible and ready to come down…
They were certainly doomed. The Prince's eyes told her that much, but in that same instant, the red-capes of the Camelot knights appeared behind the Steward's force.
Both royals looked at each other and smiled, charging again with renewed spirit. While they finished the soldiers that had reached the bottom, the Camelot knights did their part over the hill.
Shortly after the fight was over.
Once the rogue forces were subdued, Arthur's eyes scanned the scene searching for Finnabair. She looked exactly like he remembered after the encounter with the thieves in the forest of Eleara… And just like then, the adrenaline-induced hype made him turn towards her, only one thing on his mind.
Sir Leon intercepted him half way. "Sire… Are you all right?"
Shaking his head to break the momentary enchantment, Arthur faced his Knight.
"Yes Leon…" And clapping the shoulder of his soldier, he chuckled, already composed. "I don't think I've ever been gladder to see you my friend… How did you find us?"
"It's a long story… Suffice it to say that as we were made aware of your whereabouts by Merlin, our scouts told us of the Steward's forces headed this way too…" He looked around, smiling in relief. "I'm glad we came…"
"You can say that Leon… We wouldn't have lasted much longer…"
The knight arched his eyebrows, suggestively. "At least it seemed that you had a good comrade in arms fighting along your side…"
The statement made Arthur came back to his other reality. Yes, he had. Which reminded him…
Nodding briefly to Sir Leon, he made his way towards where Gwynn was talking with Sir Lescaut and some other knights from Camelot. His indignation resumed.
A good comrade in arms …who is incapable to follow a simple order!
As he neared the group, the Prince saw Lescaut being overly concerned with Gwynn, who was seemingly annoyed by so much attention and complaining.
"I told you I am all right, Lescaut… This is just a superficial cut… And I did it with a branch while coming down the hill… It wasn't even a sword!"
Reaching the gathering, Arthur cleared his throat. "I need a minute with the Princess."
His tone did not leave room for argument and his knights made themselves immediately scarce. Lescaut, however, just stood there thinking that no matter how much he tried, he couldn't bring himself to fully like this Prince.
For all he knew, every time his charge was with the Camelot Heir, she was put in danger in one way or another… That was simply unacceptable.
Of course he didn't stop and think that it might have been actually the other way around… As far as Arthur was concerned, every time he was with the Princess, they ended up in complicated situations, usually because she would never take a 'no' for an answer…
"You too Lescaut." He was already too tired and angry to argue with the guard.
The young captain stiffened, but Gwynn—perceiving the unstable conditions—calmly put her hand on his arm to appease him.
"Go Lescaut. I will be fine."
Looking at the retrieving back of the soldier, she mused smiling. "What have you done to Lescaut? He really does not seem to warm up to you…"
That was probably the last thing the Prince needed to hear at the moment. "I've done nothing!" He hissed exasperated. "But I cannot help it if he thinks that every time you are with me we end up in some sort of trouble… What he obviously does not know is that it's usually your fault."
Amusement instantly gone, Gwynn opened her eyes wider in forthright outrage. "My fault?"
"Yes! You are reckless and irresponsible, with an innate talent to ignore orders. You are a danger to yourself and to those around you!"
"How dare you…!"
Her heated retort was interrupted by the Prince's even more incensed rant. "First of all, what is it with you and numbers? Don't you know how to count to three?"
"Of course I…"
"And what's a matter with you and orders? I told you to run away!"
"I stayed to help you!"
"By putting yourself in danger! That's reckless!"
"How can you think I would run away from a fight that was mine and mine only, and let you die here!"
"Your presence worried me more than anything! I told you to run because I wanted you to be safe!"
That was enough. This arrogant male was scolding her and not even acknowledging she had helped him!
"And I wanted you to be safe! I would rather you say thank you than giving me this tongue-lashing because your pride cannot deal with the fact that a woman save your royal behind!"
"It is NOT my pride woman!" He roared. "I could not live with myself if something happens to you… Don't you understand that?"
By then they were speaking loudly enough for everyone to hear. Though no one would have dared to utter a word, amused looks at the interchange were going around the field while the knights were securing the prisoners.
"But your worries are unwarranted! We've been over that! Why are you so stubborn?"
"I am stubborn?" He scoffed angrily. "You really have some nerve! You have proven to be absolutely incapable of following a simple order and…"
"I do not have to follow your orders! You do not own me and…"
Oh, yes. I do…
Unable to control his impulses any longer, Arthur grabbed her by her waist and shut her up with burning lips.
Relief, excitement, anger, passion… The torrent of emotions that had threatened to drown them both, finally found its release in an all-consuming kiss.
The intensity of the interlude kept growing unbridled until a loud roar of approval rose from the knights, and reminded the royals they had an audience.
At long last—and albeit reluctantly—Arthur broke the lip-lock, but unable to let go just yet, he encased her in a powerful embrace without retreating an inch. He chuckled softly.
"I forgot we were not alone…"
Like in another similar situation, the handle of his sword was punctuating her back and Gwynn moved uncomfortably, jokingly complaining with a low, throaty voice.
"You also forgot to drop your sword… You should remember to do that if you are going to kiss me like this…"
Arthur's smile broadened while he moved back a bit, and his eyes gleamed with a naughty twinkle. "That's because I am not used to kiss a comrade in arms after a battle… I never drop my sword."
The sound of her crystalline laugh resounded in the ruins. It was fresh and calming; their previous argument entirely forgotten. Then, that smile of hers that was responsible for turning Arthur's insides out came back tenfold.
"You are quite charming when you are not bellowing my lord."
Steel-blue fire drowned in a green lake of light. The sheer brightness of her eyes made Arthur dizzy and all his thoughts of a romantic proposal went to hell… The words were burning in his throat and he could not stop them any longer.
"I love you." He breathed at last.
A soft gasp escaped her throat while her eyes widened in surprise. But it was only a split-second.
"I love you too Arthur."
When her hand came to his cheek, he closed his eyes and exhaled a long lungful of air. Her words had reached the bottom of his soul and had finally set it free.
After a long moment on indulging on the blissful feeling of each other's warmth, he opened his eyes and grabbed her hand to kiss her knuckles.
"Are you ready to go home my lady?"
"I am, my lord."
Gallau stormed into the throne room virtually running and Ruther stood up, immediately dismissing everyone else.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"I barely escaped to warn you Sir." He breathed exhausted. "The Prince and the Camelot knights defeated us. It was a trap…" But since he hadn't disclosed the worst part yet, his hand went instinctively to his sword. "The Princess is alive, Sir. They are heading back to the Citadel…"
The face of the Steward lost all colors. His worst nightmare had just become true… Gwynn was alive and his conspiracy most likely discovered.
Bile rose to his throat and a surge of pure, unadulterated hatred coursed through his veins.
Oh… How he loathed the little witch and that insufferable Camelot Heir who had singlehandedly destroyed his plans…
And then he had a revelation: the witch… Camelot… Uther…
His second-in-command disturbingly noticed the hint of a smile—albeit a wicked one—that appeared in the pale face of the regent, and wondered what was that the Steward found remotely amusing about the situation.
However, he did not dare nor have the time to ask. Turning on his heels, Ruther called to him while leaving the room in a hurry through a secret passage door.
"Grab some fresh horses and meet me immediately at the end of the passage that opens to the south. We are going to Camelot…"
A/N: And the plot thickens... there be night before the nearing sunrise :-) Almost there. Don't despair.