Nadia/Munchkin: Thanks as always for your feedback.  All I can tell you is that Keelin has some big moments coming up.  To answer your question, most of this story was written some time ago and I'm editing it as I go along but it's not completely finished so I have some work to do on it yet.  On another note, The Eye of the Beholder is not updated as frequently as this one because I am writing that one as I go.

Kookle Wrenford: I'm glad you're enjoying the story.  I really like to crawl into my characters' heads, figure out what they're thinking and feeling so it's very gratifying to know that someone else appreciates that style.  As for the Arthur/Mordrid thing, yes it's intentional.  :)  I first began writing this shortly after seeing "The Mists of Avalon" for the first time.

RoyalNovelists: You shall soon see what will happen.  :)

Ghoti: It's interesting to know that you liked the king so well, since he was a minor character.  But I try to make all my characters very real with their own feelings, prejudices, and agendas.  After all, that's how people are in real life, right?  As for Alinda, I think it's safe to say that she suspects something.

LillyNix: Thank you very, very much for your great compliment!

Chapter 23

            Keelin walked along the battlements of the castle as twilight began to fall.  There was a coldness in the air that spoke of the approaching winter, but she ignored it.  She had felt very unsettled for several days now and found that the cold air was no deterrent to her attempts to calm the disturbed state of her mind. 

            As she passed a guard tower, she caught sight of something in the sky, just over the sea.  She frowned and then squinted, trying to get a better look at the object.  Suddenly, she realized that it was the sail of a ship and felt her heart leap in dread.  At that same moment, a shout went up from the towers.

            "His Majesty's ship is returned!" one of the guards cried.

            Keelin watched the ship approach and could see by the lion on its mainsail that it was, indeed, the king's ship.  She hesitated only a moment longer before hurrying across the battlements and down a long, winding flight of stairs.  She nearly tripped several times as she raced down them in her haste to reach the sewing chamber.  Keelin had left Alinda there about an hour ago when she had gone to seek the solitude of the battlements and Keelin now wished to go spread the news to her friend.  She burst through the chamber door and several of the women, including Alinda, looked up at her inquisitively.

            "Where were you?" Alinda asked.  "I was just about to seek you for we are about to dine."

            Keelin was too impatient to share the news to wait until she recovered her breath and so she gasped, "Nay…there will be no dinner tonight…His Majesty's ship…is returned."

            The women's eyes widened and they all exchanged glances.  "'Tis not possible," said one of them.

            "'Tis true," Keelin gasped.  "I saw it…with my own eyes…I heard the guard call out."

            The women did not speak a single additional word.  They moved as one to the chamber door and hurried out to the balcony overlooking the great hall, where they had once huddled together to watch the prince dance with the princess of Italy.  They reached the balcony just in time to see the queen hurrying forward with her ladies in waiting.  The king's advisors also hurried into the great hall, talking in hushed voices and exchanging worried glances with one another.  In the next several moments, both the balcony and the great hall itself were filled nearly to capacity as the anxious subjects gathered in the hopes of seeing their king once again.

            After what seemed like an eternity to Keelin, the double doors to the great hall flew open and the crowd on the floor of the hall parted, clearing a walkway.  She pressed one hand to her mouth and the other to her heart, feeling weak with fear.  Something was terribly wrong.  She could sense it.  Everyone around her seemed to be just as wretched as she was.  They were all wringing their hands nervously or clasping them together fervently in silent prayer.  As she watched, two men entered the chamber, carrying a casket on their shoulders.  For a moment, Keelin felt a surge of fear so black that it nearly sucked her into its vortex.  It was not until she looked more closely and saw that it was Sir Edwyn and the prince carrying the casket that she realized that it was not her beloved who lay within the wooden box.  Her relief was short-lived, however, as a dreadful realization set in.  She could see that the prince was dressed just as he had been when he had left, but now the surcoat that she had stitched for him was ragged and covered with dark patches of dried blood.  The prince and the knight looked haggard.

            "Nay," Keelin whispered, impotently, as if that word could make what she knew to be true untrue. 

            The queen hurried to her son with a look of fear upon her face, but he shook his head at her, his face stony.  He and Sir Edwyn laid the casket upon the great table, on which Keelin had served him during what seemed like another lifetime.  The prince turned to face his mother, the advisors, and the other members of the nobility that were crowded in the great hall, all anxious to hear what he had to say.

            "Here lays the body of His Majesty, King Arthur of England," Rhain spoke, his voice thundering throughout the hall.  He gestured toward the casket and the queen collapsed, caught by her ladies.

            A commotion ensued while the ladies attended to the queen.  Her son went over and knelt on the floor, cradling his mother against his chest while he chafed her wrists.  When he finally managed to rouse her, she put her arms around his neck and began to sob.  Keelin could see that she was in no condition to continue before the public eye.  Apparently her son felt the same way for he spoke a few low words to her and her ladies and then watched as the ladies led the queen out of the chamber, supporting her as they walked.

            Keelin was crying openly and Alinda took her hand, the two of them standing in stunned silence while they waited for the prince to explain what had happened.  Alinda squeezed Keelin's hand so tightly that Keelin was certain she was bruising it.  The other servant women around them were weeping as well, wiping at their eyes with the edges of their aprons. 

            After a long pause, the prince finally spoke once more.  His voice was shaky and the rage in it was unmistakable.  "The demon Mordrid and his men were laying in wait when we reached the German shore.  I rode ahead with Sir Edwyn and the German guard to ensure that the forest was safe and, while we were securing the forest, Mordrid and his men burst out upon my father and the knights and attacked them in the clearing."

            A gasp went out from the crowd followed by the wailing of a few women.  Keelin heard Mordrid's name spoken in connection with the words "evil" and "demon" several times over.  The prince held up his hand and the crowd quieted.

            "Several men lost their lives trying to protect their king.  Their memory must and will be honored.  I cannot express the depth of my gratitude or my sorrow to their families.  They were the best of men and will be sorely missed. 

"As for the king they so faithfully served, His Majesty will be laid to rest on the morrow, but his death will not be forgotten.  My father was the best king England has ever known and his death is an unimaginable loss.  But I promise you this, I will seek vengeance against the French king and, most especially, against the demon Mordrid.  I will not let the death of your king have been in vain, this I solemnly swear to you. 

"I will now carry my father's body to his chamber so that my mother and I may grieve in private.  The rest of the kingdom may pay their respects on the morrow, during the public funeral for His Majesty."

            Keelin's tears were flowing unchecked.  Selfishly, she hoped that the prince would look up at her, that his eyes would promise her that everything would be all right.  She stared at him, desperately wishing for him to look her way, even if just for an instant, but it was not to be.  She was angry with herself for having such frivolous desires for it was obvious that the prince had much greater concerns.  Still, she could not help but feel a twinge in her heart, knowing that he had returned but that he had not even sought to catch her eye.  She wanted nothing more than to be with him at that moment and it was a bitter pill for her to swallow, to think that he did not want her.

            Sir Edwyn and the prince once again hoisted the casket onto their shoulders and carried it solemnly out of the chamber.  The prince's face looked as though it were carved from granite.  It was perfectly expressionless and he seemed oblivious to the sights and sounds around him.  It grieved Keelin to see that the man who was normally so animated, so alive, now looked as if he were made of nothing more than stone.

            The sound of weeping was heavy in the great hall as the king's casket was carried away.  The crowd parted to allow the knight and the prince passage, but several could not refrain from reaching out and touching the king's casket, crying bitterly as they did so.  Still others bowed low and reached for the hem of the prince's surcoat as he walked by, kissing it in spite of its filthiness.  The sight of so much gore on the surcoat that Keelin had stitched for him sickened her and even more so every time that she realized that the blood on it had flowed out of the king. 

            Keelin suddenly felt faint, as if her whole world had been pulled out from under her.  Prince Rhain had returned safely, but she was terrified that he had been irrevocably altered by his experiences in Germany.  She knew that he must be suffering from a great deal of shock and tried to tell herself that he would be back to his normal self in time, but she worried that he would now be possessed by thoughts of revenge.  In fact, the more she thought about it, the more determined she was to believe that Mordrid would not have killed the prince in Germany, even if he had had the opportunity.  It would give him greater pleasure to slay the king in front of the prince's very eyes and leave the prince untouched.  He would know that it would drive the prince over the edge, bringing about a war, and Keelin was certain that this was exactly what he wanted.  Mordrid had severely damaged the foundation of England and he now waited for the prince to destroy what was left of it. 

            The thought of war with France made Keelin feel very weak.  If the French were to win, who knew what horror would befall them?  She might be safe enough in the English castle while the war was going on, but what would become of her if England should fall?  Mordrid would certainly seek her out and torture and, ultimately, kill her.  She could try to flee, but she was certain that some way, somehow, he would find her.  He would be like a demon stalking her, driving her to an untimely and gruesome death.

            As disturbing as these thoughts were, they were far less disturbing to her than her thoughts of what Mordrid had done and what he might do in the future to her beloved prince.  Once at war, if Prince Rhain should happen to fall into the hands of Mordrid, Keelin was only too certain that his torture and execution would be even more painful and prolonged than hers.  What was more, Keelin knew that the prince's torture had already begun for he would forevermore be tortured by the image of his father slain at the hand of Mordrid.  He would seek his vengeance in war, in the hopes of driving away the demons that now tormented him and in the hope of finding some vindication in the death of Mordrid.  Yet Keelin was certain that his nightmares would not cease once he led his soldiers into war, a war that could be nothing less than inhumanely savage and bloody.

            Her thoughts were overwhelming and she felt herself swaying on her feet.  Before she even knew what had happened, she found herself stretched on the cold stone floor, the other sewing women gathered around her chafing her wrists and slapping her cheeks.  They asked her a great many questions, but her head felt foggy and she could not for the life of her decide how to respond to their questions so she said nothing.  The women exchanged worried glances with one another.

            "Perhaps she fears that she is the cause of all this," one of the sewing women whispered to Alinda.

            "I do not doubt that she does," Alinda answered grimly. 

            "Come, we must get her out of here," another woman said.  "The crowd is so close that she shall never get any air in here."

            Keelin tried to protest, but her vision suddenly receded and she heard a whooshing sound in her ears as the blackness nearly overcame her once more.  She was just barely able to hold onto consciousness enough to feel herself being lifted from the floor and carried out of the great hall.  Her head lolled around and she felt almost as if her consciousness was detached from her own body.

            The servant women carried Keelin to her pallet, where she laid prone, her head filled with a paralyzing nothingness.  They attempted to rouse her with cold water, more chafing, gentle slapping, and some powerful herbs, but to no avail.  At last, she sank into a deep, fretful sleep filled with violent, terrifying nightmares.