"Come one, come all! Sir Mordred returns!" The excitable Lady Hellawes ran into the weaver's hall, not stopping until she stood before her sister, though her words had already fair travelled the length of the chamber. "Malvis, shan't you take me to the courtyard as you promised?" Dindrane paused in her task, lifting her gaze from the colourful thread to glance over to the protesting Malvis and the pleading Hellawes. She allowed herself a brief look at the other ladies about as the bickering grew louder.
Taking a deep breath, she stood from her cushioned seat and edged closer to the sisters, clearing her throat gently. Neither Malvis, nor Hellawes seemed to take notice of her approach. The eldest sibling was shaking her head, while the younger grabbed at her sleeve. Dindrane made a second attempt at capturing their attention. Given the increased proximity, Malvis bestirred herself enough to turn. "If it please you, my lady, I could take your sister, so you might continue your work." No sooner had the words left her lips than Hellawes turned her clutch upon her.
Malvis pursed her lips and for a moment it seemed she might refuse, but then, aught in her gaze shifted and she sighed. "It is most kind of you to take the trouble." She then added for the benefit of her sister, "Behave, little imp, elsewise father will hear of this, I assure you." On that note they were allowed to depart, murmurs erupting in their wake. Haste gave wings to their heels.
She ought to have counselled patience and decorous displays, but in spite of her better notions, Dindrane could not deny she was curious about Sir Mordred from the land of Loth, for her father counted the lord of those lands a cunning, disreputable sort and it seemed somewhat of a marvel that his son should serve King Arthur.
A fair few had come to witness the knight's return, among their numbers the King himself, which lent credence to the rumour that he prized his kin. Dindrane was inclined to count that in the King's favour, for the ties were tenuous at best. She studied the crowd, picking out familiar faces with ease. But since her brothers were not present, she could not hope to close the distance between herself and those esteemed knights, for all pushed and shoved for a better look. Someone trod on her slippered foot and she let out an ungainly yelp, caught by surprise. Several pairs of eyes turned to them and Dindrane felt her cheeks hear with a blush, even as the culprit apologised for her misdeed and she found herself looking into the earnest face of Lady Orianna of Magouns, Faircrown. She replied in kind, hardly wishing to discomfort the lady.
A shadow fell upon them both. Lady Orianna, though inclining her head, turned aside with haste, which left Dindrane to look at the engineer of the welcomed interruption. 'Twas Sir Galahad who had come to her aid. "I beg leave to escort you closer to the King, my lady." He seemed to notice Hellawes belatedly, "And your companion, as well."
"That would be most kind," Dindrane answered, letting him step before them. He cleared a path for their advance in short order and before she knew it, Dindrane had come to stand behind the King's knights, eyeing the proceedings with interest. Hellawes bounced on her heels, too awed to do anything but gasp her gratitude.
"I have never been so close to him until this day," the girl whispered breathlessly, very much alive to the moment. "I will cherish the memory of it all my days." It dawned upon Dindrane that puppy love had all the affectations of true passion, if little of its worldliness. She struggled to hide her smile and bade the girl to pay heed, for the first riders arrived with stomp of hooves and clouds of dust; a great cheer rose from the crowds, for Sir Mordred rode at the head with no helmet.
Struck by the sight of him, Dindrane found herself leaning forth. Handsomely arrayed in travel garb and sitting a golden-coated horse, Sir Mordred of Loth looked almost an angel descended from the heavens. He smiled and was pleased with all he saw, swift to jump from his saddle and rush to the King, kneeling before the man. "Your Majesty, your faithful servant has returned."
The King put a hand upon his shoulder, "Well met, our beloved kinsman. But it would please us better should you stand and give us the kiss of kinship and call us uncle, as befits your station." His will was carried out with alacrity to the great delight of all those gathered. Seeing the two standing side by side, Dindrane could not help but note the strong resemblance. They might have been father and son had she not known any better. A pity that, for it would have solved many a problem. Sir Mordred swept his gaze upon those nearest him, eyes like jewels glittering in the sun. For a brief moment she thought he caught her own gaze, but as he would not linger, she could not tell. For herself, Dindrane's breath was cut short. It took a moment to reasonably compose herself, but once she had, it was the work of a heartbeat to find a most curious sight.
One lone rider remained in the saddle. Or rather one lone lady; she rode a beast similar to the golden steed of Sir Mordred and wore garb as costly as his, but did not carry herself in a manner equal to the man's. At lengths, before anyone had much time to contemplate her presence, she was aided down by her champion and brought forth to the King. Sir Mordred spoke in a loud voice, so none might miss his words, "I have brought my sister with me with promise of fine sights and grand knights. Blanchefleur, come."
"Be welcome, niece," the King spoke as she executed a perfect curtsy. "Approach, so you too might receive the kiss of kinship." The lady approached shyly. And a white flower she was indeed, delicate and graceful, pale and so very pretty with something of the common modesty of maidens. She was a fair bit shorter than her brother, so when she brought her lips to King's cheek, she had to do so by rising on her tiptoes and even then the man bent so she might better reach him.
A relieved little noise from jolted Dindrane from the curious sight. She glanced at Hellawes in question. "I thought she might be his bride. I am glad 'tis only a sister." Afforded a chance to look to others so she might mark their reaction, Dindrane was not late in noting that the court generally seemed to admire the newly-arrived pair.
The sea of people parted and she found herself in the first line of greeting as the King's party passed. As she had been seated to the right of the King, it was Sir Mordred who came nearer to her her and he who smiled their way. Despite the cheerful mien, his stare passed right through their faces. Dindrane was not at all wrought. A fair number had gathered to welcome him and one man had only so much attention to spend. She was glad for having come and was even happier to have aided the lady by her side whose rapturous delight would not be silenced even as they walked together towards the gardens. When at long last the first wave of joy was past and Hellawes grew quieter, they stood near the flowering trees, arm in arm and eyeing the blooms.
"My sister cannot bear to look upon Sir Mordred," Hellawes disclosed. "She says it encourages discontent, but I think that rather foolish on her part. There is naught to be unhappy about in his countenance, for he is handsome and courteous and everything a proper knight should be."
"I trust your sister has her reasons." Privately, Dindrane could well guess why. How did one explain to the young dreamer that Malvis sought to protect her own heart, lest the knight all too easily slip within? The Lothian King would see his son wed sooner or later and the daughter of an overturned warlord with naught to her name save for the clothes on her back surely did not figure in amongst the candidates he had in mind. Hellawes was fortunate in that her father, though not abundantly blessed by anyone's count, remained nevertheless in a comfortable situation and could provide, needs be, a respectable dowry. That he would not do the same for his lady wife's eldest daughter had become something of a favourite point of speculation for courtiers. In fairness, however, neither sister might reasonably hope for the hand of Mordred in marriage. "Shall we return to our looms, do you think?" Dindrane offered after a few moments' silence.
"I beg we should not. It is too fine a day to waste in such fashion. Weaving ought to be left for stormy days and the depths of winter. But look, we have blooming flowers and warm sunlight." She opened her arms to their surroundings. "Aside from which, Malvis will not indulge my talk of knights." Hellawes leaned in and cup a hand gently just to the side of her lips so as to better whisper, "Sir Galahad seemed particularly taken with you; he glanced at the Lady Blanchefleur but a moment."
Despite the wave of heat assailing her and the rising tide of her pride, Dindrane somehow found the wherewithal to demur. It soothed her wounded dignity to perceive herself the object of an admired man's esteem and it suited her fancy just fine, but her brother's warning rang in her ears, thus she waved all knowledge aside. "If you come up with such tales, it is little wonder your sister closes her ears to them." She smiled in a bid to soften her speech.
"I spin no yarn and I do not fib, but only speak of what I saw," her companion insisted, in no way daunted. "Faircrown turned away from him, you know, but you seemed well-pleased to accept his escort, which speaks well for your manners, so do not think I say this with malice. I wish I were as brave."
Dindrane smothered a sigh. "It is the duty of a lady to be gracious whether in joy or dismay." Her answered found no warm reception, nonetheless she could not admit to her pleasure in the circumstances and had to make do with second best. "You will grow to understand the usefulness of such in time." She folded her hands before her, gazing away at a flower-laden bough.
Hellawes frowned. "But you will admit Faircrown's contempt brands her manners poor, shan't you?" If it was a condemnation she wanted, Dindrane could not satisfy her. Lady Orianna merely acted in the way which seemed fit to her parent.
"'Tis surely not my place to say." She could see then true disappointment. Part of her was sadden, for she too had though the actions rather harsh. And yet her own brothers had cautioned her against encouraging any attachments on that side and she too must keep herself aloof. "Truly, let us speak of it no longer. Sir Galahad holds me in no special regard, nor I him."
The young lady was forced to accept the words as truth when Dindrane would not budge on the matter and, in consequence, had little else to say, preferring to lose herself in the glorious nature surrounding them. While happy to be relieved of the burden of speech, Dindrane herself could not be too pleased with the outcome. She could but hope time might soften the stubborn ache stabbing painfully at her heart. She swallowed her discomfort and reminded herself of the duties of a lady, which encompassed not only kindness and cordiality, but patience as well. It was in such a way that she passed her time in the gardens.
When finally Hellawes was returned to her rightful place and Dindrane made for her chambers, she found Mari wringing her hands. Her tirewoman held out a fine bit of parchment. "Begging pardon, my lady, but there be no time for ease-taking. A summons from the King is come."
That was indeed what the woman held. King Arthur gave no particular explanation, but expected her presence within his private solar. "This makes no mention of my brothers, know you if they too have been called?"
"Aye, leastwise so I have told, along with a number of ladies and knights." Mari stepped around her. "Shall I ready you, my lady?"
"If you feel you must." She accepted a change of clothes though thought it a very silly notion. Still, her tirewoman insisted her mistress look the proper part of her station and decked her out as she saw fit. Dindrane did not protest any of her schemes, insisting only that her hair be braided and not left free to its wiles beneath her veil. "Come, Mari, I am to be on my way as soon as can be." She did not wish to miss the appointed time and appear a tardy creature.
As fortune would have it, Mari's fast hands deftly saw her through the trouble and before she knew it, Dindrane was walking out the door. She was soon joined by Lady Floree whose chambers neighboured hers. "Well met," Dindrane said by way of reply to the other's greeting. "You heed the King's summons as well?" she asked, noting the golden net in Lady Floree silver-light strands. It was a showy piece she had seen on a small number of occasions, particularly on days of feast.
As Mari had intimated, a goodly number of ladies and knights came before the King. Seats had been provided for those who would take them, but noting their number and the fact they matched the elders in attendance, Dindrane chose to stand. She took in the faces, slow realisation dawning on her. Outside the King's trusted knights, the participants could all claim some degree of familial connection to His Majesty.
The King bade them all attend him as conversation dwindled into silence. "Those of you in this chamber have been chosen to attend my bride-to-be. I task you with collecting her and the bridal party and seeing them to court in proper fashion." That certainly explained the collection of individuals. Dindrane inclined her head with the rest of them and uttered whichever words seemed best to her. She caught a glimpse of her eldest brother looking her way with something akin to worry in his gaze. She dearly wished she might dispel it, but time did not permit it. King Arthur spoke once more, commanding their attention. "I put my trust in your capable hands and bid you make hast as you may." All proper words, though Dindrane could detect little heart behind them.
She contented herself with awaiting the approach of Perceval who did not disappoint; Aglaval set off ahead. Her brother offered his arm to both herself and the Lady Floree, for the King had dismissed them with a wave of his hand.
"I have never ridden to the summer court of Carmelide," Floree offered, "but I hear 'tis a lovely country with wildflowers unnumbered and the sweetest apples to have ever been seen. Mayhaps your adventures have carried you yonder, Sir Perceval?" She smiled sweetly up at him.
"You would think so would you not, my lady?" Perceval grinned boyishly, clearly at ease with the attention. "Alas, never in my life have I stepped foot there. As luck would have it, I shall find out soon enough if rumours are exaggerated. To do so in the best of companies is an unlooked-for blessing."
Sensing it would be bad form to intrude upon their sport, just as it might prove unsuitable to extricate herself from them, Dindrane sought to occupy herself with something other than their talk. Alas for her, naught could be found to provide succour. She frowned at the thought, but found herself all too soon draw back into the conversation which had moved to the attending knights.
"Indeed, Sir Gawain was supposed to make up a number of the party," Perceval explained, "but would not part with his lady wife, who is not fit for travel. And so, I have offered my brother to take his place."
"Aye, Sir Gawain is very careful of his wife. So careful that none have seen the lady since her arrival, save for the servants sent to fetch and carry, by my count." Floree made a thoughtful sound. "You rode out to greet her arrival, did you not? Is it possible you caught a glimpse of her face? They say she is a very unfortunate creature."
"I cannot believe so," her brother opined, his tone growing reserved. "Sir Gawain favours her after all. As for her features, I caught not a glimpse. The lady had veiled herself."
"A pity, I was rather curious. But then I suppose she must come out of her chambers at some point or another." She shook her head gently, silver-gold strands settling against her shoulders in their fall, shining as they caught the sunlight."
"I trust she will in time," Dindrane agreed. "But as I heard it, she never did much enjoy court life, preferring her own keep. It must have been a grievous blow to have it taken away from her. Let us allow the lady her period of mourning and then we might see her about."
They slowly moved on past the topic of the mysterious Lady Ragnelle and kept up a steady stream of conversation amongst themselves until Lady Floree's chamber door came into view and she departed their presence with a smile and a curtsy.
Left just the two of them, Dindrane offered the use of her chambers for whatever her brother had in mind. Perceval nodded and lead her within, dismissing Mari upon sight. "Go you now, your mistress shan't need you for some time." Though the woman liked it little enough to judge by her expression, she obeyed.
Dindrane said naught until the door had closed in the other's wake. "Whatever can the matter be? Mari has been with me since I was a girl standing no higher than father's knee." She trusted Mari with her life and more to the point the woman had been good counsel upon all occasions the chance had cropped up.
Perceval shook his head, bidding her to keep quiet. "Father wrote again," he spoke after a moment, voice low and soft. "He means to send Tor here in the guise of servant, to stay by my side and see all that goes on. He rides even now towards us and shall reach the court before we set out."
It did not take long to piece together what was being said. "He means to find some irreconcilable flaw in the bride-to-be?" She could not claim shock. "But I do not understand why he set our brother on such an errand." She knew Tor and was well-aware he took no delight in ruining the chances of others.
"I fear father might have set his dearest wish to sale up against this task." She gasped and Perceval winced. He pressed on, however, "As a son, I must obey my father, just as Tor must. As a knight, my duty is to my King." He frowned. "I will not shirk either, but all will be done to assess the worth of this Lady Genievre."
"But surely she is not like to show her true colours on the journey itself. Even her sister took years to fall into villainy. As for testing her, how can you?" Even she as a woman could devise no manner in which to learn another's heart in so short a time. "Aside from which, I cannot see the King turning from the arrangement whatever you might find, lest it be that the lady ran off with a lover." While it was not inconceivable, she highly doubted the lordly Leodogran had not ensured that his second daughter's instructions bear heavily upon the matter of Queen Guinevere's shameful elopement.
"As of yet, I am still unsure," admitted Perceval with a pinched expression. "But I will find some way. I must." She would not dissuade him, since it was her father's wish. But Dindrane told him quite frankly that she saw no way to help, other than repeat to him whatever that lady said to her. "That will do, but do not trouble yourself too much with it. Father wrote naught of your involvement."
"Indeed?" It would be a lie to say she was not hurt. Might be the disappointment of her previous failure was yet too raw for him to consider her in the scheme. She did her best to convey understanding. "Well, he must do as he thinks best, I am sure."
Perceval said naught to that, but stroked her hand comfortingly. "Tor shall abide by me when he comes. Do not single him out with affection, though you might wish it, and step not between us, whatever you may see or hear. I would have your word on this, sister."
"I vow it; I will obey you and our father's will." What else had she to do but that? Dindrane was rewarded with a kiss and words of praise ere her brother excused himself and left her to her own devices, at which point, Mari returned to her, looking black as thunder. Her misery did not go unnoticed. "Mari, forgive my brother; he had a lot on his mind and spoke without thought."
"I reckon he did, my lady, but my concern is for what he said to you. Why, you look too glum by half." She had best acquaint Mari with as many of the fats as she dared. Dindrane swore her tirewoman to secrecy in short order and then set her by the tall lancet, bidding her to listen carefully to what she had to say. "But, my lady, how can the master send his son on to such a lowly position? His poor mother, how she must be suffering." Dindrane suffered a measure of guilt for having given no thought to Elfrida of Longvalley and how the ruse might look to her.
"You had best keep your notions to yourself, Mari," she chided sternly nevertheless. "And when you see Tor, be sure to treat him as you would any other servant hereabouts. No more have I to say on this and you shan't speak of it to a soul. Kindly remember you swore."
"So I did, my lady; no need to take on so." Sorry as she was to be treating her closest ally in such fashion, it served the greater purpose for the time being, so Dindrane let the woman off with a nod and rushed her into another task. "What else would you have me do then for you on this day, my lady?"
"The King bids us travel to Carmelide and bring back the lady that is to be his bride. We set out with all haste on the morrow, for he means that we should travel light. Pack for us whatever you think necessary and take no trouble over appearances; all I need is one presentable kyrtle." Her instructions were attended to with utmost attention and she was assured all would be in readiness for as early a start as anyone might wish for.
With such confidence, Dindrane quit her bower and made straight for the chambers of the recovering Lady Elaine to whom she had a duty as well. There she was greeted with open arms and bryndons. She partook happily of the cakes soaked in their wine-and-fruit syrup and listened for a time to the ailments and complaints of Lady Elaine whose face looked less wan than before. Her speech had grown bolder as well. "But you have not come to listen to an old woman's woes," the woman paused at long last just as Dindrane swallowed a mouthful of nuts and seeds.
She cleared her throat. "My lady, how can you say that? I take pleasure in our friendship and so am full willing to share your concerns, whatever they may be." Dindrane smiled softly. "On this occasion I am come to let you know of the King's plans and my going away for a time." She was brief in her explanation. "We leave in haste and return likewise. If all goes well, we shan't be more than a fortnight in all."
"A fortnight?" Lady Elaine's face fell. "And me here alone for all that time. I suppose one does not quibble over the King's orders. All the same, I had been hoping to have you here with me, for my son makes the journey as well. Come closer, child, so I may give you my blessings, that they may protect you. "
She approached the bed and leaned in slightly, allowing the woman to press a kiss to each of her cheeks and speak a prayer over her. Dindrane crossed herself. "You have my gratitude for this kindness. And I hope you will find yourself less lonesome than you believe."
"There is hardly anyone I might converse with," the lady lamented with great conviction. "The companions of my youth are long married with children to mind and have moved to other parts and the young ladies of this day are too caught up in their adventures to mind an old woman." She brought both hands over her heart in a wounded gesture. "Only you in this world care about me other than my son."
"My lady, that cannot be. The King often walks with you in the gardens and you have Eda's company, do you not?" she pointed out placidly. "And now there is Sir Gawain's wife. I believe you must be close in age. Mayhaps she could make for good company."
"Not that one," snorted the elder woman. "She is cold and haughty and has not a shred of mercy to spare." Notching her chin a tad higher, Lady Elaine went on, "And she is mute in company. Conversing with her is like drawing blood from a stone. In fact, you might just have better luck with the latter."
Seeing there was no convincing her, Dindrane elected to soothe the woman as best she could. On the subject of Lady Ragnelle, she was no expert and must thus allow that those who were better acquainted with her might be correct. "It is my hope, nevertheless, that my absence may pass unheeded and that I find you in better health upon my return. I must say, Lady Vivienne is skilled at her craft."
"Skilled, but nowhere near her husband's equal. Merlin could heal one with as little as a look, if so he wished. I have seen him do so with my own two eyes. Though I expect it is difficult to believe, it is the truth, by the rood." The woman nodded for emphasis.
"Poor Sir Merlin, fallen afoul of knaves and villains," countered Dindrane. "I do so hope Sir Kay and his men find him soon and set him free." Whatever his quarrel with the King had been, it was clear the man was still very much looked up to, if Sir Kay himself rode out to liberate him. "And poor Lady Vivienne, left without a husband."
"Vivienne is a canny thing and used to fortune's crooked hand," came the answer from Lady Elaine. "I daresay if she loses this husband, she will soon find another. Ever has she been open-hearted. She is but half his age, did you know, and ensnared him from her own sister. And the Lady Nimue was ever so kind to me and my poor son."
"I had not heard as much." Leaning back in her seat, Dindrane tried not to appear too eager. "I believe someone told me the Lady Nimue became somewhat of a hermit long ago. Is that not so?" Not many spoke of Merlin at court, partly for fear of punishment and partly out of ignorance, Dindrae did not doubt.
"Aye, she left, gracious soul that she was, after the wedding of her sister. For many years, she was joined to Merlin in the way of the pagans, but he renounced her and took Vivienne to bride in the Faith. The woman was heartbroken. I should have been in her stead." And so would Dindrane have; her heart quivered with grief. "No matter, these are long-past happenings and dredging up what was cannot be of aid. I hope for the good of us all that Merlin is found and restored."
"Aye, let us hope." Dindrane murmured half-heartedly, still reeling from the discovery she'd made. "But do you truly not know where the Lady Nimue has gone?" Where did a woman so thoroughly betrayed hide to lick her wounds out of sight?
"That I cannot say; she had little youth left when we parted ways, but was kind and possessed of a handsome face still. I like to imagine she found a happy home for herself and is, to this day, resting in the embrace of a loving family. She had kin far in the North, as she told it, and might have travelled to them otherwise. In Selice might be."
"That is quite far away, farther than my own country even." It lay somewhere to the north-west if she did not miss her guess and would have taken many a days of travel to reach even in the best of circumstances. One had to pass through the treacherous lands of Gorre to reach it. She shuddered at the thought. For many lives of men, rumours of giants haunting throughout the Kingdom of Gorre had kept all but the bravest and the most foolhardy away. "I hope she reached her kin well and is as happy as you believe her to be."