Chapter 11 [Northern Road Just Before the Nemeth/Camelot Border]
Sol hovered lower Horizon's western edge. Shadows lengthened between the trees. Chill billowed through the brush.
Hunts were going on. Purposes pursued. Still who was the hunter and the hunted?
Galahad watched the camp's northern edge. His eyes focused on the trees, brush and the skies. Instinct nagged at his mind. He looked through the trees.
Just a few hundred yards ahead, the Severn's northern branch rushed under the border bridge. Its rapids frothed against the rocks and grass lined shores on either side. Its sound echoed back to the camp.
He remained torn on being there. On the one hand, the camp remained just inside of Nemeth's territory. Princess Mithian, if need be, still held authority there. Still, Security proved problematic. Camelot's purpose merited the procession's safe passage. Cawdor's and Mercia's respective borders sat but a mere ten and twenty leagues from that place. A terse breath escaped his lips. Why does Uther not send knights? It would be like Cenred or Meleagant to attack now!
"Sir Galahad?"
Galahad jarred himself from Introspection's hold. He turned to find Tristan. "Sir Tristan, is something the matter?" He inspected the relatively new knight. His eye discerned Anxiety in the teen's face. Still Duty set Tristan's jaw and modulated his tone. "You should rest. Your turn on watch will come soon. Sir Rodrigo will be counting on you."
"Aye. I know. Thank you." Tristan nodded to his superior. "I heard noises from the woods."
"Noises?" Galahad bit back Impatience's barb. "This is a forest."
"I…I know." Tristan gulped. He set his legs so as not to allow them to quiver. "Our horses are tied over there." He pointed toward the southeast.
"Aye. They are. And?" Galahad followed Tristan's line of reasoning. "And you heard something else?"
"Aye." Tristan pointed to the northwest and northeast. "I heard horses and brush rustling in those directions. It might be nothing. Still, with Princess Mithian's safety as our charge…."
"Indeed. It is good to be careful." Galahad patted the younger man on the shoulder. "Thank you. Keep watch on the camp's other side. Well done, Sir Tristan."
"Thank you, Sir Galahad." Tristan rushed off toward the camp proper.
Galahad shook his head. I knew we should have pressed on! He looked around yet again. "The Princess should know." He hustled back toward the camp.
[Main Tent—Sixth Turn of the Hourglass Later]
Mithian paced about the sheltered expanse. She pondered the procession's entrance into Camelot. How should we enter? Should we act like puffed up royals? Perhaps we could arrange for some bread for the people? She stopped at the entrance. Her eyes gazed out.
Just beyond the knight on guard lay the woods…and the promise of a last hunt….
Uther would *never* let me go hunting. She frowned. A sigh escaped her lips. He wants a silent partner to bear babies for Prince Arthur. I hope Prince Arthur might be different. The potential sewing and tapestries elicited an eye roll.
Chauvinism burned in her ears from Kay's rant and Aethelwald's "advice" to come after her arrival.
I will not simply sit by Arthur's side and not say anything. I can do my duty to Nemeth and Camelot. I will keep my own mind. She nodded at that thought.
Britomart stuck her head in. "Milady, Sir Galahad is here." She stepped aside.
Galahad marched past Britomart and into the tent. He bowed. "Princess Mithian."
"Sir Galahad? Does something trouble you?" Mithian arched her eyebrow. She read Urgency through his eyes and posture.
"Aye, Milady. Sir Tristan heard potential raiders in the woods. He and Sir Rodrigo investigate. I thought you should know." Galahad cleared his throat. "Perhaps we might press on? We could be in Camelot within a half turn of the hourglass."
Mithian drank from her goblet. Water broke Thirst's hold. It also tugged her toward the waiting Severn. 'It may be nothing, Sir Galahad. Still I cannot take a chance with everyone's lives." She turned toward Britomart. "Stop unpacking. We need to get across the Severn. I'd hoped for a last night before we entered Camelot."
"I apologize, Princess. I think only of your safety." Galahad set his jaw. "I know you wish to hunt. I do wish we had the knights for that purpose."
"I know." Mithian smiled. "I would not leave on a hunt and have the camp unguarded. Nay. The borders are too close." She tugged a heavy burlap bag into view. "Have everyone prepare for possible attack. What is the state of the camp?"
"The knights are alert. They await word from you, Princess Mithian." He cleared his throat. "What is in the bag?"
She dumped the bag to reveal two chain mail suits with matching surcoats and swords. "Britomart and I will disguise ourselves. Perhaps you might stage a ruse? We ride ahead into Camelot? Meantime someone can pack the tent?"
"Aye, Princess." He recognized Plan's merits. "It could work."
"Milady, might I say something?" Britomart made an effort to bow in front of him.
He chafed at the maid's interjection.
"Of course, Britomart." Mithian shook him off.
"Milady, we might leave the tent here? You and I have camped in the woods. It might prove useful to find a place where we can conceal ourselves and watch the road as well?" Britomart suggested.
Concession elicited a nod from him. "You would appear as our knights, Milady. It would allow us to cross the river into Camelot." He bowed again. "I will wait outside." He hustled outside.
Mithian pulled on the chain mail. "Get dressed, Britomart. We have to leave immediately."
"Milady, I should help you first. I…." Britomart stopped her protest short. "Very well." She pulled on her own disguise.
"If Sir Galahad is correct, we may not have a great deal of time." Mithian donned the emerald surcoat. Her hands cinched the belt around her waist. She slid the quiver onto her back. Her hair tucked under the chain hood and helmet.
"I am ready, Milady." Britomart had her own sword in hand. "You look like a knight."
"And so do you." Mithian frowned. You should be one in fact as well as by pretense. I would knight you if I could! She hustled out of the tent. "Follow me!" She led Britomart toward their horses. "Sir Galahad?"
"Aye!" Galahad watched them from his own saddle. "I await your word, Milady."
Mithian climbed into the saddle. "Do the knights know what to do?"
"They understand. We all hear the noises now." He glared at the deepening shadows.
"Then we ride!" Mithian grimaced. "I pray they will join us in short order. A tent is not worth their lives, Sir Galahad." She spurred her horse onward down the road. "Britomart!"
"Right behind you, Milady!" Britomart galloped just three strides behind Mithian's position.
Galahad raised an eyebrow. "I just hope Camelot does not have its own problems!" He noted the knights already packing up the camp. He rode off in pursuit of the ladies in question. Urging pressed his horse onward. The trees blurred by faster and faster on either side. Time seemed to slow even as Pace quickened.
Behind them, Metal clanged against Metal.
Tristan was right. He galloped across the bridge. Once on the other side, he spied Mithian's and Britomart's horses behind a stand of trees. He pulled up beside them. "Princess Mithian?" He drew the sword from its scabbard.
"Here!" Mithian's hand grabbed him by the arm. It pulled the senior knight into the brush.
A heartbeat later, two arrows struck the tree behind his previous position.
Mithian armed her crossbow. "I did not want that tent anyhow." She shook her head.
"Milady!" Britomart saw crimson-surcoated knights bearing down on the bridge. "They're coming!"
"Cawdor?" He frowned. Experience and Expectation would've meant Mercians rather than Cawdorians.
But Enemies were Enemies….