A/N:The Red Cross, much as the summary suggests, concerns itself chiefly with the court of Camelot and the deeds of its knights, borrowing from various literary (and otherwise) sources. Much of the tale details the fight against Morderd's plots, altough not all conflicts are sparked by his actions. Severeal refrences will be made to Arthurian lore - since the subjects is a convoluted one, feel free to ask as many questions as you need to feel comfortable with the setting.
Likewise, please note that the stories will suffer reinterpretations, so do not expect a strict adaptation, if you will.
Beyond that, I cannot reveal much without going into spoilers territory and since that would not be fair for those readers who wish to be surprised every once in along while, those who do want to be in the know before the others may apply to me directly by PM or discord, or whichever other way you like.
One last note, with regards to the title, a red cross on a white shield is one of Galahad's traditional coat of arms.
All laughter in the vicinity stopped abruptly as salt spilled onto the table. An interminable moment of sombre silence burdened that particular corner of the hall. Yet no matter how strong the censorious stillness, one movement was more than enough to shatter it. Dindrane leaned over and took a pinch of wasted seasoning, throwing it over her left shoulder. Someone smothered their laughter at the insistence of an irritable voice and a deluge of whispers followed, before conversation was resumed. Shame burned in Dindrane's cheeks. "My apologies," she managed past a too-tight throat.
"No harm done, the fey spirit has been banished," commented one of the older women in a conciliatory manner. "I daresay this is the most scandalous thing to happen this year." The world held a faint edge of disappointment. "Back in my day, we had real thrills. None of this spilt salt nonsense."
A chuckle answered. "Back in your day the mountains were young. Why, you must have seen the Queen's elopement with your own eyes."
"And so I have," huffed the matron. "That was true excitement. Upon my word!" As tended to happen in the face of such blatant provocation, many a pair of eyes turned upon the woman and those not too shy to make demands, fair begged to hear the tale told anew. "I recall it well enough, aye. The Queen was young and beautiful and very proud. Foolish too, some would have it. But I will not speak of such things here, in the King's own hall." Her captive audience would not relent, however.
Blushing to the tips of her ears, Dindrane climbed to her feet and, with a vague excuse, departed from such salacious talk. There was no corner wherein the tale had not been heard and as a guest of Camelot, she felt she could not soil its summer court by bringing up shameful memories. She took the path leading to Perceval and found him in conversation with their brother. Aglaval scowled and made a heated reply to something the eldest sibling had said. She caught only a vague pronouncement concerning reputation. The both of them hastily hanged up their hatchet when noting her approach. Dindrane looked from one to the other. "I seem to have disturbed you," she noted, shifting her weight from one leg to the other.
"Never!" Perceval drew her closer with a tight smile. "Aglaval and I hold no secrets from you." And yet they'd stopped speaking as soon as she happened upon them. "But why have you left the women?"
It was her turn to fidget under their scrutiny. "They spoke of the Queen," she admitted, though secretively. "It is not a tale I relish and thus found my way to you."
The brothers shared a look. Aglaval cleared his throat and leaned in. "I wish you would be equally zealous in avoiding all of the participants in that bit of mischief."
She frowned. "I have tried my best to remain inconspicuous and never give cause for tongues to wag," Dindrane pointed out flatly. It was neither the place, nor the time to encourage much discourse upon the topic.
"Association is more than enough for tongues to wag," the younger brother pointed out mildly. Aglaval looked to Perceval for approval before venturing further, "Sit here, sister, and let us be easy amongst ourselves."
The eldest invited her obedience by drawing enough so a small space might be eked between the two for her as well. "Aglaval means well," he said soothingly, as she sat. "Just as well as you do. Let us not dwell upon the subject any longer," he said in a bid to kill in infancy all nascent conflict. Neither sister, nor brother saw the use in challenging that wisdom.
Instead, Aglaval dutifully shared his trencher with her, leaving her the choicest bits. Duly touched by the peace offering, Dindrane smiled at her brother and, leaning in, whispered for his ears only, "I will try not to grieve you in the future." It was as best as she could give him.
No promise of abandoning the unfortunate Lady Elaine would he heard from her. For one, Dindrane did not have the heart to shun her. Though very well aware that the best she could achieve boiled down to a faint impression of satisfaction, for naught could blot out the enormity of the lady's misbehaviour, her felicity did not amount to merely that. She had the equal pleasure of making happy a man who had shown her great kindness by sheltering her and her brothers. The King's solicitude could not be overlooked. And if by such actions as she had undertaken she brought some relief to his heart, then Dindrane would brave any slights or arrows slung by busybodies.
Aglaval patted her hand approvingly and said little else on the matter. Her brothers need not have been concerned for any particular threat to her reputation; such she would have told them were she stout of heart. The King did not want her. He wanted no woman as far as she could guess, in spite of the great beauties gracing the court of Camelot. In the face of that, she could only lean on her sire's machinations and what he might achieve by those means only time could tell. Yet the notion endeared itself not to her.
Her musings were interrupted by movement from without the hall's borders. The squires preceded their liege-lord, bearing themselves with much grace and pride. Dindrane watched as the King arrived and contemplated at lengths the splendours of his appearance. None might be his equal from amongst the sea of faces, not even those joining him, though all were renown in the land. She took to observing his proud bearing and handsome mien, for even past youth he retained a firmness of feature apt to turn any woman's head, though too little yielding. The severity of those lines she so easily saw only heightened his dignity. Atop his golden head sat an equally golden crown, completing the unbroken impression of aloofness.
Involuntarily, her eyes were nevertheless drawn to a far humbler picture. Trailing the impressive gathering was a young man of substantial infamy, if only for the circumstances of his birth. In all other respects, he was fully at ease amongst his brother-knights. A curious turn of events, that the son of a traitor should be so well treated by the very victim of a brutal betrayal was seldom heard of. The young knight noted her interest and her person; his eyes lingered.
Dindrane lowered her gaze, demurely settling upon the sight of her own lap, when the object of her admiration swept the length of the hall and with it its inhabitants. All too briefly, her own vanity whispered of his regard, but she pushed it aside. Conversation which had dwindled picked up once more until she was quite certain none should scrutinise her too greatly. Once more she glanced towards the King and his knights, taking the measure of every one of those men. Within moments they were seated and naught more was to be done other than watch them as they ate. For her part, Dindrane tried to ignore the glaringly empty chair at the King's side and sternly remonstrated her impulsive pity. To dwell upon such misfortunes would surely ruin the good one did have.
Roasted meats rubbed with herbs and mushrooms bathed in melted butter adjoined by soft carrots and great baked onions split open in the shape of flowers were brought out and filled the tables. Dindrane ate her fill, only occasionally exchanging word with one or the other of her brothers. As the night progressed she found herself restless once more to the point relief fair flooded her when the first strains of song permeated the cavernous chamber and a strong voice rose in mournful hymn. Though she contemplated for a few moments, she could not learn what had caused her such distress and thus resigned herself to listening. The old tale soothed her, capturing both heart and mind, though she had heard it time and again, with only slight variation, both in her father's hall and in that of her kith and kin. She listened still, undaunted, idly looking out. Her aimless wander stopped only when she took note of a rapt stare levelled once more her way. Dindrane could not look away, try as she might, for having been caught, she yielded to that small voice within her which pointed out his appeal.
By and large, his sire, whom no one any longer dared mention before the King, had ever been thought of as the most appealing of knights. Dindrane had never laid eyes on the man, his tenure having come to an end long before she ever arrived at court. But the older women whispered still of him and Lady Elaine herself would at times make mention, but only in passing, of the great quality of his appearance. The latter had also sighed over the strong resemblance her son bore to his father. Should her situation have been otherwise, it would have doubtless been a point of pride; it would have shown the strength of the knight's seed. Dindrane blushed with her thought and was suddenly rather aware that another pair of eyes watched her. She looked to the side, meeting the curious gaze of Perceval.
His eyebrow rose ever so gently in a gesture of supreme consternation. "Fie; for shame, sister. It is not the done thing to look so long." His voice remained a whisper. He leaned in, "Pray, encourage him not. Galahad is not a man I should like to grieve on any account, not even your own."
It was not remorse which prompted her to avert her eyes, but rather her own duty, which she did not scruple to ignore, even in the face of such temptation as placed upon her path. But in any event, she had no desire to discomfort such an amiable man either. Her brother's wisdom fully comprehended, she chose to give her attention back to the King who searched the crowd as though for a sign. Content with whatever he found, he held up his hand, commanding the silence of his subject. All made haste to obey.
"You have been gathered here on this night," the King began in a clear, strong voice, "for a paramount purpose." Dindrane's curiosity mounted at the oddity of such a beginning. Her stomach roiled in protest, assailed by some unknown ailment for his expression chiefly conveyed dismay for the briefest of moments before any evidence of alarm was swept behind the man's more familiar air. But if she had seen it, surely others had as well. "It is time the past were relinquished; it is time we look to the future. Therefore, let it be known that no longer shall the seat at my side be left empty." A murmur swept the mass, for after so many years they had quite given up hope that their liege-lord might turn his attention to the business of wedding and begetting heirs for his kingdom. Some had looked upon it with no small amount of censure. Yet keener eyes had held more understanding. But all were equally shocked at such a swift and unforeseen decision being sprung upon them.
In the heat of the moment, Dindrane felt her heart increase within her chest, half-agony, half-hope. The gathering held their collective breath for one endless moment in which she saw herself singled out and brought to his side. She thought of her father's elation and the great compliment which such a choice necessarily paid her. She swore she would do better than her predecessor, even as she tentatively glanced towards the knight. Tension swelled as interest reached its peak.
"The Lady Genievre, daughter of Leodogran, is my choice." His words shattered against her pride much like tumultuous waves against sharp cliffs. Dindrane could only stare at the man in whom her family had placed their hope, hopelessly mute in the face of such an enormity.
It was not to be. Disappointment quickly vanished into confusion, as voices rose about in cheer and cups clinked with congratulations. She followed suit with befuddled thought. Her movements remained steady even in the face of discomposure. She sought out the King's face with her eyes, searching for anything which might explain his actions. The perusal awarded no understanding. Cool wine met her lips and comprehension dawned. Her knees weakened, to her shock, with relief. Dindrane faltered, turning beseechingly to Perceval. There was little her brother could do. Challenging the King's decision would never work to their advantage and the wonder of it was, she did not wish him to.
The cheers died down and the murmur of hushed conversation picked up yet again. Dindrane could well guess the subject that graced the lips of all. She placed a hand upon her brother's arm. "You shall write father, shan't you?" she asked, seeking to draw his reaction as well. But Perceval, his face black as thunder, seemed to have little command of himself at that moment. Dindrane relinquished her hold. It might be best to withdraw, but where to? Without a firm plan in place, she attempted the departure but was stopped by both her brothers reaching for her.
Her elder brother finally mustered a response. "I will seek an audience with the King." Dindrane felt the blood drain from her face. She attempted to dissuade him, but his black mood prevented her saying more than a few measly words. "That is the trouble with you, sister; you never do think of yourself and leave the burden to others." Marked by the chastisement she knew of deeper meaning than the words implied, she fell silent between her steadfast keepers.
Perhaps the fault did lie with her, she considered. Father had generously allowed her travel to the Court of Camelot for the benefit of her own instruction, his only request that she act a worthy lady. His hope, she'd guessed from many a fond speech, was that her youth and privileged position might impress upon King Arthur the necessity of taking a new queen. In that Dindrane had undoubtedly failed, for the King hadn't eyes for her, excepting when she was in company with the benighted Lady Elaine and even then he watched her with more curiosity than admiration.
The heaviness of her failure weighed down upon her, nigh upon crushing her spirits even as excitement revived all about her. She remained with her kin throughout the remainder of the feast and would not join the dancing maidens when song of gaiety and merriment filled the hall. When at long last it came the time to depart, she did so with a heavy heart, blind to the world around her. Somehow, she managed to reach her chamber with nary an incident on unsteady legs.
Her tirewoman awaited her with open arms and did not hesitate to hold up her mistress when the tears began as the whole sorry tale poured out. Mari soothed her as best she knew, but distraught Dindrane could not quite forgive herself. "I have failed everyone," she noted bitterly, holding onto the other for comfort.
"Untrue, my lady, the choice was not yours to make," Mari pointed out reasonably, brushing back her hair and helping her to a seat. "You would not grieve either father or brother were it up to you." But that she had done and confessed to it with regret. "Being kind is not a sin; not even when the beneficiary is the Lady of Korbenic."
Thus readied for bed, Dindrane spent a restless night of tossing and turning, no closer to peace than before. But the darkness passed in spite of her misgivings and a new sun climbed out of the shadows, setting the world aflame. The fresh start beckoned her out of bed, apt reminder that she was to called to stand in the face of misfortune, whatever its nature and whatever her anguish.
She saw herself bedecked in befitting manner and while she was a while longer at combing than usual, Dindrane promised herself she would not cower. Perceval would seek audience with the King and she must find some means of soothing him after, for she disbelieved his temper would be satiated no matter the explanation their kin offered. With that thought in mind she hurried to the great hall where servants brought out food once more.
Perceval was nowhere to be seen, but Aglaval sat joined by his fellow squires, seeming none the worse for last night's occurrence. Dare she hope naught would come of it then? Shy of intruding upon the gathering, Dindrane joined the few ladies braving the early hour for their meal and seated herself at the right of the Lady of Astolath, another Elaine of queer persuasion whom others avoided.
Her arrival was greeted with politeness and the golden Elaine even offered to break bread with her. Unequal to the task of refusing such kindness, Dindrane submitted with skilfully wrought cheerfulness. "I trust you slept well," the woman said, taking a bite of her bread.
"Of course," she answered placidly. "And yourself, my lady?"
"I make it a point to fully enjoy the comforts of a soft mattress," came the response to her query. Without preamble the topic shifted drastically. "And what think you of our having a new queen before long? I daresay that will see to other comforts thus far neglected."
Pausing with a piece of bread set against her lips, Dindrane watched the other woman carefully. "I think the King knows his own wants best," she replied curtly before making certain her mouth was otherwise engaged.
Her companion chuckled. "So he must. But you have to admit, the unanticipated announcement is bound to set everything on its head. One is hard-pressed to guess what has led to this great change." Dindrane could not guess either; therefore her only response was a shrug.
She concentrated on her food, making no further attempt at communication. She spied as she might for sight of her eldest brother. But he would not come and she began to fear he had gone directly to the King. The tight fist in the pit of her stomach spoke of unease. She chewed slowly at her food with greater care than strictly needed. There seemed to be nothing for it but to ask Aglaval for aid. He must know better than her where their brother had gone and what his plans had been upon departing. Lest she betray the thin thread of anxiety, Dindrane forced her patience to the task of observing the other occupants of the hall.
Seated among the men-at-arms were a small number of the famed knights of the Round Table. Sir Bors the Younger sat nearest to the wall, his stern expression firmly in place despite the rest of his companions seeming to be in good cheer, or if not that then certainly in a relaxed mood. Closest to him were none other than Sir Gawain and Sir Tristan and opposite them was Sir Bors' bother, Lucan, but lately knighted. Completing the set was Sir Erec, a man of much mystery to hear the ladies say it; his taciturn nature allowed naught to be uncovered.
With the small number of souls gathered in the great hall, any movement would be more than enough to attract all eyes at once. Her horror at the prospect remained immeasurable in spite of conscience's consistent prodding. She could not appear to have been either wounded or displeased by the King's choice; she would not be made an object of pity. In consequence, approaching her brother was to be left to her tirewoman; the sole soul in which she might place her trust.
She stood from the table, excusing herself before beating a hasty retreat to her chambers where Mari busied herself about her work. She was about to impart her request when the servant, looking up, began speaking. "Eda the bondswoman came in search of you for her mistress, my lady. The Lady Elaine begged that you would go to her, for she fares ill."
Dindrane considered refusing. Lady Elaine was often unwell yet it never amounted to much. But then she had willingly taken on the yoke and it spoke ill of her to give it up on a whim. Very well then, she would go to the woman's side and comfort her. Then her attention might turn to Perceval. "Mari, find Aglaval and tell him I wish to have words. Let him await me in this chamber, for I mean to return swiftly." With those words, she abandoned her rooms and made for those of the unfortunate Lady of Korbenic.
To her shock it was not the bondswoman who opened the door upon her knock, but Sir Galahad. Her heart pounded in her chest, yet upon observing the man's mien, she felt her own face fall. He moved to let her in and she could clearly make out Eda wiping tears away from her face as her mistress lay abed, wan and lifeless. Gripped by fear, she brushed past the knight. "What is the matter with her?" Dindrane queried and would not wait for a response before approaching the bed and placing her hand upon Lady Elaine's clammy forehead. Her breathing was too shallow. "How long has she been like this?" Her head turned as she searched for Galahad.
"Eda tells me she complained of a sore head last night and the fever began sometime after the ascent of the moon." His eyes were different from the last she'd seen them. No longer did they hold that light teasing quality which had so taken her in but hours earlier. Keeping a respectful distance away from her, the man bowed to her. "My lady, forgive the impertinence of such a request, but I must away for aid and have no to entrust my mother's care to. That is, no one save yourself." Upon those words, he gave her his eyes once more.
"I will care for her, be easy on that score," she promised without a second thought. Only after the words had been spoken did she perceive the certain difficulties of her position. Frowning, she glanced back between Lady Elaine and her son. Her face hardened. "Go you now; ride fast." Firmly turning her back upon the knight, she perched herself upon the bed's edge and placed her hand upon her patient's forehead once more, attempting to determine what might be done. The door momentarily creaked and then closed with a thud. "Tell me, Eda, what has been done for your mistress?"
"I bathed her with water and vinegar, my lady, and kept her bundled and out of the cool air." The bondswoman lowered her head and seemed to think a moment before she spoke again. "The fevers come and go, but never before was she taken to bed with it?"
Dindrane gasped. "Why did she not say something?" To her, might be she did not wish to unburden herself, but her son surely would have helped if only he'd known.
"Begging your pardon, the healer said naught was amiss." Yet aught clearly was. The servant paled. "What can be done?"
Dindrane shook herself and stood to her feet, pacing the length of the bedchamber as her thoughts turned to her meagre knowledge of herblore. "Bring me catmint, coriander seeds and knight's milfoil; it is little enough, but it will have to do." When the bondswoman had left to do her bidding, she reclaimed her seat, choosing to take up Lady Elaine's hand. Poor creature, she never seemed to find much good fortune.
The servant was quick to return, having brought along all that was needful. Dindrane set her to crushing seed and flower together until all was well mixed together. They boiled the blend in water and sweetened the tisane with a bit of honey. The resulting brew was fed to the misfortunate Elaine. At lengths the cup was emptied and all they had left was prayer. The judicious application of the water and vinegar baths continued throughout the hours until a sharp rap at the door brought an entirely different matter to Dindrane's mind.
She jumped off her perch on the bed and fretfully rushed to the door, pulling it open just in time for her eldest brother's fist to raise level with her forehead. She involuntarily took a step back. Perceval scrutinised the inside of the chamber with flinty eyes. "I searched for you."
Shame flooded her. "I have been here all morning," Dindrane answered, wringing her hands. Contrition mingled with concern as she beckoned her brother within, tugging on his sleeve, "Lady Elaine felt poorly; I could not in good conscience leave her." She thought his expression softened for the briefest of moments, but as the effect was not lasting she was forced to make do with the terse nod he awarded her explanation.
A placed his hand upon hers and spoke with the barest tint of hesitation. "Lady Elaine is fortunate to have your care, but I would have your attention for a few moments as well." Since it would be uncharitable to refuse, she left Eda sitting with the patient and stepped into the deserted hallway with her brother, asking whether he would speak to her there. "I think not; best we repair to the gardens." As good as his word, Perceval led the both of them into a flowering corner of the premises and sat her upon a bench.
Before he might berate her, Dindrane threw herself into an explanation of her actions. "I make no excuse for myself, brother, for I had meant to seek you out so we may confer, but Eda sought me out on account of her mistress and I could not leave her friendless and unlooked after when she was so ill. No will take the trouble properly aid her, so I must."
Perceval held his hand up in a bid to silence her. "You mistake me, sister; I have no wish to chastise you." He would still not sit with her even having spoken those words, but she fell silent nevertheless, waiting to hear what he did have to say. "I sought audience with the King and he is grateful for you enduring care for Lady Elaine. You will hear no further complaints on that score, I can assure you. However," he trailed off, eyes fixing upon a flower-laden bough as the though the thought had suddenly slipped from him. A tinge of high colour touched his cheeks.
"However," Dindrane ventured, "that gratitude is not enough to move his heart towards me."
He agreed. "He will have Genievre and no other. The King assures me you will always be welcomed at his court as a beloved kinswoman." Perceval expelled a long breath. "Father will have to hear of this."
"Many men of valour have sworn themselves to our kin's service. Father might yet benefit." Not so greatly as he probably desired, but such was life. "You would intercede for me, would you not, brother?"
Finally, he allowed himself a seat. He leaned gently into her. Their shoulders touched. "You would remain here?" Surprise coloured his query.
"For myself, I never held much hope of capturing his attention," she confessed. "I was still shocked that he would choose another, especially the Queen's sister. But I cannot feel the insult of it so bitterly as some might wish me to." She leaned back into him. "The King never looked at me, brother."
"I daresay he did not," he replied sharply, threatening the softness of the moment. "He would have known your worth far surpasses that of Lady Genievre if he had. But since he is determined to have her and you cannot be persuaded to feel the weight of the affront, what are we to do?"
Dindrane fiddled with her girdle as she formulated her answer. "I rather thought you might continue your service as a knight and I might stay on, as ever I have done." It was no grand plan, she allowed. But what good did it do to take offence and return to home empty-handed? "Besides, I promised I should look after Lady Elaine until Sir Galahad's return."
Perceval furrowed his brow and Dindrane instantly regretted reminding him of the matter as his face fell into a grave expression. "Oft have I seen you glance his way," he remarked in an almost offhanded manner.
"He is brave and loyal," she offered, repeating praise Lady Elaine had given of her son, "and, if I am not much mistaken, he enjoys your good opinion as well." She could not help having taken a liking to him. "But if I look, I do so to gratify his mother. It is no fault of his to be born to such an inauspicious beginning.
"He is a good man." As far as her brother was concerned that was a ringing endorsement. "Very well, I give you leave to make Lady Elaine happy, if that is how she would have it, but be aware that father is unlikely to give you much respite. He will, before long, have selected another for you to concentrate your efforts upon and another time you had best not disappoint him. You cannot forever be putting family interests second."
A dutiful nod was her only answer. She hadn't meant to disappoint anyone and would, if capable, please all of them to equal degree. Perceval stood and helped her to her feet as well, refusing to let her pass until he had extracted a promise that she would not lock herself away with Lady Elaine past the evening hour. "You will come dine in the hall and then you may retreat to your own bedchamber. Let the lady's servant care for her in the night." One had to work with that which one was given.
End Note: Hopefully you've enjoyed the chapter and look forward to the next one. Do let me know your thoughts.
All the best.