Chapter Four: Secrets
The Knights had gathered in the stables that dawn. There was much need to hone their talents, especially with the threat of the Saxons coming at their doorsteps. Galahad had been sparring with Lancelot for the better part of eternity and still managed to lose every set. His sword was no match for his twin blades. The clang of metal was unmistakable, all prerequisite to the coming of a battle.
"What is the matter little boy, can't handle it?" Lancelot jeered as Galahad lunged at him and he evaded. The boy was slower even though he had the lighter armor. Lancelot had the advantage of experience on his side and he was taking it for all it had. He swung his twin blades, bombarding Galahad with hits so he would keep on blocking. "And here I thought you were a knight."
"You are too cocky for your own good." Galahad retorted as he fought back, trying to press him to take steps back, aiming for his right leg and his neck, both of which were easily blocked. Today was not a good day. He knew he would lose this set as well.
"That is because I am good and you know it." Lancelot finished Galahad off by pressing him to fall back on his bum and setting the two swords on both sides of his neck. Victory once more. "You are too slow Galahad."
Lancelot was a formidable opponent as most of his fellow Knights would attest to. The way he moved in battle reflected how he acted on a daily basis. He was sure of himself and certain that he would succeed. Every move he made was certain, no room or want for hesitation. Although the twinge of fear in any man's heart when he comes face to face with a fellow killer never really faded, no matter how skilled he got. He simply never gave in to it.
"Well it was hardly a fair fight when you have two swords and I only have one." He said, sulking. What hurts the ego more than losing was losing to Lancelot. That is because the pig-headed bastard was good and he knew it all too well. It was a crime to lose to him because it only fed his already inflated ego.
Galahad had something that a man should never bring into battle with him, a temper. It never resulted well when a man fights with anger and hatred. The two tend to blind you completely and make you believe that you either too occupied to guard your own back, or too sorrowful to even have the will to live. For Galahad, it was the earlier and it was always his fault even in sparring. It was so easy to taunt him.
"You never know, one of the Saxons may have three, then what would happen to your pretty little head." He smirked and sheathed his weapons. He offered an arm to his brother who begrudgingly accepted. Lancelot clasps his little brother's shoulder and gave him a good natured pat. "Face it Galahad, you will never beat me."
"Pick up your sword again." A voice sounded from the edge of the stables. It was not anyone of the Knights, for the voice was female and soft. It was Alyanne.
"My Lady." Galahad acknowledged her presence as she entered the room. "I believe I have proven it all to well that I can not defeat Lancelot, not today at least." He laughed a little, bitterly of course.
"You can." She insisted. Alyanne had watched them fight without them noticing at all. She could see that Galahad had a chance, he just didn't know how to make best of the situation presented to him. "Just pick up your sword and listen to all that I say."
Galahad picked up his weapon from the floor. It would be fun to humor the lady. No harm would come of it, so why not? He stood in battle stance and waited for Lancelot to do the same.
"Haven't had enough humiliation?" Lancelot smirked and pulled out his swords. "I would have thought that you had already reached your quota for the day."
Signs of Galahad's quick temper was quickly rising to his face. "Don't listen to him." Alyanne ordered him. "Listen to my voice and my voice alone."
While Galahad was still trying to block all sounds out, Lancelot took it as an opening to attack. He swung his blades towards him. An assault which Galahad barely blocked.
"Use his weaknesses. Aim for his left rather than his right, he does not protect it as well for his shoulder seems bad on the right." She told him.
Galahad followed.
"It is not bad." Lancelot whined, flexing his right shoulder. In truth, he had received an injury there when a bloody Saxon stabbed him. How could she have noticed that when it was hardly noticeable? He tried to prove it by using his right arm to attack. There was a twinge, but he could bear it. Unfortunately, Galahad now noticed him slightly winced. The smirk on his opponent's face grew wider. He would take Alyanne's advice. He was perennially being bombarded with consecutive attacks, his left being the constant target. He was slowly getting tired. She was absoulutely right.
"It is." She turned to him and walked towards the sparring area, unnoticeably stumbling as she walked. She tried to remember how they both moved. "Also, evade his attacks rather than colliding with it. It takes twice as much energy to miss rather than to be able to just hit." She continued on. "There is no shame in ducking once in a while."
She had said it just in time as well. Just as Lancelot hurled the sword on his opponent, Galahad obediently ducked, making Lancelot feel the full weight of the blade as it came down to strike the ground. He tried it again and again, but Galahad evaded it every time. He was tired out from the attacks on his left that his speed had reduced considerably.
"Oh Lancelot, the little lady has got you all figured out." Laughed a highly amused Bors. He was into hysterics right now for the great and mighty Lancelot, self-proclaimed God's gift to women was now being scrutinized and humiliated by such. She could see every weakness he had and was sharing it with the world. It strangely got annoying to some extent. But he was more dazed than annoyed. Galahad was actually defeating him.
"Finish him off. Use his larger, heavier frame against him. His weight plus that of his sword is sure to bring him down quicker than if you struck him."
Galahad evaded one last time, situating himself behind Lancelot and pushing him to the ground just as his sword reached the ground. He put his sword to Lancelot's neck and laughed. "I won! Oh dear God!"
"I thought you were pagan?" Gawain jeered.
"Surely this is enough to convert a man."
"Don't get so used to it." Lancelot glared at Galahad's boasting.
"Oh I think I will get used to it. I know your weaknesses now!"
"Lancelot he has rhythm. He dances, when there is no music. He made you dance to his beat. It is just a stroke of luck for you that he had an unhealed injury" She finished, looking Lancelot straight in the eye as she said so. She could sense that he didn't dance much nowadays, but used to. She was ambiguous in her words, but there seemed to be wisdom in them. War was like a dance, a dance that leaves you perpetually moving and gliding across an open field. The steps are all up to you, but the music is something that depends on the situation entirely.
"At any rate, I am grateful my Lady. One victory is enough to hang over his head for an entire lifetime. Perhaps you would now like the honors of defeating him for yourself?" Galahad offered eagerly, tilting the hilt of his sword to her direction.
"Aye Alyanne. It would make us all so happy to see the all powerful man knocked off his horse of supremacy." Gawain supported his best friend in the proposal. It was obvious that Bors wanted it so, but could not say a sound for he was still too occupied with his laughter. Tristan, which his watchful eyes, just observed to see what would happen next.
"For once I would agree with this rabble my Lady, for it would be refreshing to clash swords with someone of talent for once. As you said, Galahad was just lucky. I doubt that that would apply in your case." Lancelot shot a good natured glare at Gawain and Bors. He did mean every word. He was also curious as to what this girl could do.
Alyanne looked at the sword. It was a beautiful blade. From the way Galahad was holding it the hilt seemed perfectly balanced with the rest of the blade. It did not seem heavy to her, perhaps a new way of heating the metal. It still shone in the little sunlight with a brilliant luster. Gorgeous. But she shook her head. No.
"I am afraid I only came in to check on my horse, my Lords." She bowed her head. "Good day." She would not touch that sword until it was utterly needed. She looked away from the Knights and stepped away from the center.
All eyes were kept on her for a while. They carefully watched her as she came up to her horse and stroked its mane. It also seemed as she was talking to it. The eyes did not go unnoticed, but there were two sets that seemed to bore a hole into her body.
"That lass is troubled beyond all of what our knowledge can grasp." Bors sighed as he looked away. By this time, all had left her to her privacy, save Tristan and Lancelot.
"Since when did Guinevere allow her to leave her room?" Galahad piped up, remembering their Queen's ardent command that she was to stay in her room as she was not fit to be walking around yet.
"She is entitled to some air." Tristan made a nonchalant comment. Though he was discretely watching her behind his haphazard locks.
"She is entitled to freedom." Lancelot agreed. From what he could tell, the woman was not used to being held in doors. She was free. She was not like Guinevere who so easily adjusted to life outside the woods. It would take time for Alyanne to be used to fort life, if she were to stay that long.
"Fine then. Enough chattering. One would think you women the way you gossip in midday. Well come on lad!" Bors called out to him. "I'll make you dance the jig and have you flat on your arse before you can twitch." Bors was always eager to get the chance to cut someone's head off, even if only in practice.
"No. I think I'll sit this one out. It is unfair that you all know my secrets, and I have yet to discover yours." He said to the general public, although he was saying it to one person in particular. She didn't seem to hear.
"If you ask me, he is just afraid of the possibility of getting his arse on the ground." Gawain laughed as he stepped down the seat-like steps and grabbed his axe. "I, however, will be honored to be the one to castrate Bors this lovely morning. I would imagine that Vanora would give me a free tankard of ale after that." He quipped as he attacked Bors with his axe and initiated the new set.
Meanwhile, Lancelot still watched the maiden as she tended to her horse. How could one have so much pain and yet not share it with the world. She could watch and see everyone's limitations. But she was a complete ambiguity. She was like a perfect little puzzle. And Lancelot always did adore solving puzzles.
-o-
Guinevere was bustling about in the castle. The role of Queen was more of a domestic post rather than a political one. She had to see to it that everything ran smoothly. She did not like it, but it was certainly better than dieing of boredom and idleness. At the moment, she was tending to the details of the harvest. With winter coming in, it was a busy task. All the supplies and crops had to be stored before they were destroyed by the pending blizzards. She said and looked at the tallies. It looked bountiful so far. She only hoped that it would continue as so. Guinevere gave a heavy sigh. She thought she had left this life of idle chores when she joined Alyanne. Unfortunately for her, the crown of Queen came with tally sticks and vegetables.
"So cousin, a great warrior is now reduced to nothing but a tally maid for the Wall's harvest?"
Guinevere abruptly dropped the sticks and was overcome with shock, excitement and elation. The voice she had heard was too bold to be that of Alyanne's. Alyanne once had that same tone, but lost it a long time ago. She only knew one other woman with such a voice. One that commanded the attention and demanded the obedience of all who heard it, yet still have a melodic quality that made it as a Siren's lullaby. She smirked and kept on counting.
"My days as a warrior ended when I subjected myself to such bliss. What other occupation could enthrall my as much as making notches on my tally sticks."
"Uhm, I don't know, breaking a man's neck with your bare hand. As I seem to recall, you enjoyed those quite well in the past."
"All that I want to break now is celery sticks for the stew this evening." Guinevere continued to joke.
"Oh will you quit pretending Guinevere? This is all folly! Doesn't the Queen of all Britain know how to greet a Priestess of the Old Ways?" She laughed. At that, Guinevere turned around and welcomed her cousin in with open arms. She couldn't be happier. She had long for home so much in the past months, but now it seemed as if her prayers were being answered and that home was coming to her.
"I have missed you Elaine."
"And I you." Elaine smiled at the warm and loving welcome she received. It was such a long time ago since she had seen Guinevere. They grew up together, shared the same memories, even shared the same scars. She had never known a sister by blood, so this cousin of hers filled the gaping hole in her heart that longed for one.
She broke the embrace, stepped back and looked at her cousin. She had changed so much since they last saw each other. She was no longer that gangly girl who always managed to make her laugh whenever she had to do training with Merlin. No. Guinevere was a lady now. She was a woman, a wife, a Queen. So much had changed within her, and yet she was still her Guinevere.
"Your father sent for me." She spoke as they sat down.
"Why would he send for you at this time?"
"The Rites."
"You are to perform them?" Guinevere said in shock. She knew that Elaine was capable of it, but performing the Rites of Ilyaren was an honor bestowed not just to anyone at all. Ilyaren was one of the most important rituals that the Woads had, and Elaine was to be it's priestess. All she could do was smile, but even that was not a reflection of all she was feeling for her dear cousin. "I could not be prouder. My cousin, a Priestess of the Old Ways."
Elaine had changed. Now in her Priestesses' robes, she served the Old Ways. She could not be a mischievous little minx anymore. People relied on her to be a guiding hand. She was expected to lead them in their worship of the Earth and all the spirits. She was expected to be the one to take Merlin's place once the Earth had taken him into Her arms. It was true, they were children no more.
"I did not think it possible as well." Elaine said with a small smile. She did not seem it, but she was the happiest she had ever been in years. She had finally become what her life had prepared her to be. She wanted nothing more than to end her days serving the Old Ways. To attain her life's pursuit was bliss indeed.
"When will the Rites be?" Guinevere asked, standing up, remembering that she had left her work lying all over the room. She went to the table and picked up her tally sticks, one by one, while still keeping the conversation with Elaine.
"Two days from now, when the moon has disappeared from the sky."
"Two days from now?" Guinevere abruptly stopped. It could not be that soon. "But our Roman allies are expected to come then for a feast. It seems that they would die if deprived of their festivities." They had been planning this for more than a month now. Though she did not like it one bit, Guinevere knew it was better to catch flies with milk than honey. If she had her way, the flies would have been swatted a long time ago. But unfortunately, with the Saxons at March, they could not be rid of that easily.
"Well, they live on our land. They must abide by our ways. Our ways are the Old Ways and they will not change that as long as there is breath in my body." She spoke with conviction. Why should they submit to what the Romans wanted? They had trespassed on this land too long. Elaine knew that with their presence, the Old Ways had been slowly disappearing from the face of the earth. She would not left that happen. She was a Priestess and it was her duty to see to the survival of the Earth's religion.
"We can not just cast them off Elaine." Guinevere tried to be diplomatic in her answer. As much as she hated the pigs, she knew that they had their uses. The men they provided for the army proved too numerous to be ignored. The funds they gave was too great to be cast aside. In an idyllic society, one would have no need for such men, but sadly, theirs was not a utopia no matter how hard they strive for it to be. "Though I may loathe their squabbling, Arthur has need of their men to ensure victory over the impending Saxon invasion."
"Then what do you suggest we do? Forsake that which our people have done since before our birth?" Elaine spoke with a little more forcefulness in her voice. Since when did Guinevere bend down to the will of the trespassers? She would not suffer this!
"I shall have to talk with Arthur first." The Queen conceded to her cousin's words. Elaine had always been insistent. She was never one to back down from a fight. Guinevere sensed that if she argued on like this, it would get them nowhere. She stood up, left her things at the table. She turned to Elaine and smiled. "Can we continue this later?"
"Of course cousin." She responded with a smile of her own. They would catch up soon.
"Oh and Elaine?"
"Yes?"
"You make a fine Priestess." With that, Guinevere left the room, off to find her husband.
-o-
All was silent when Guinevere walked through the doors of the Main hall. The Arthur sat east of the Round table, looking out the window. His brow was furrowed in worry and his face heavy with doubt. He was thinking much on the things to come. Winter's first frost was drawing nearer by the moment. It would not be long before he saw the numbers of the Saxon horde emerging from behind the hills. He feared for the worst. Guinevere knew it without even asking. She could see it all in his eyes.
"All will turn out for the best." She placed a hand on her husband's. She hated seeing him like this, like he was doubting himself. She had believed him to be an invincible man once, but now, she understood that he was a man like all others. The only difference was that he carried more on his shoulders that an ordinary man should.
"You always say that." He turned to her, and tried to smile despite his worry. He did not like seeing her distressed over his troubles. He wanted to see her smiling, for it was the only comfort that came to him at times like this.
"I have faith in those whom I love, and I know all will turn out for the best." She smiled warmly at him.
Arthur stood up and walked towards the window. He looked out into the horizon as if looking for any sign of the impending danger. The wind blew. Its harsh frost coursing through his skin, making it crawl. His eyes darkened as the gust continued on, pushing him. "Winter is nearing."
"Yes. The harvest has been plentiful so far and if I am not mistaken, it will keep us through the winter ahead." Babbling on, she did not realize what it meant. She did not realize that his kind face had grown stoic at what he said. His grip on the windowsill tensed. She had not seen the torment in his eyes.
"That is not what is on my mind."
"I have already told you…"
"No, it is not the Saxons…"
"Then what?" Guinevere asked, walking towards him. She stood beside him as the relentless winds blew. It was times like these when she would remember how little she knew of the man she called husband. Though he was a warm person, he hardly talked of himself enough for her to say that she knew him well.
"Nothing. It is nothing." He evaded her gaze; once again, trying to hide what was in his mind. He did not want Guinevere to be burdened with his problems. She did not need it in her life.
"Arthur, you can trust me. I am your wife."
"It is not that. It is just…" His eyes seemed empty as he spoke, looking to the horizon, searching for some unknown solace.
"I can tell that you are not ready to tell me. I understand. I will not hurry you into anything." She could wait if he wanted her to. After all, they did have the rest of their lives for that. Time was theirs. At least, that is what she kept telling herself.
"Thank you." He could tell by her voice that she was hurt with his decision. But there were just some things that could not be spoken of, not now at least. "What have I done in my life to deserve such a woman?" he whispered into the nothingness that lay before him.
"You were yourself. That is all anyone could ask for." She unexpectedly answered.
"Look at us, dwelling on Saxons and secrets when in two days, a great feast will be held."
"Actually, that is why I came here in the first place." She said, remembering her purpose.
"So the pleasure of my company was not enough to lure you to my side?"
"Arthur, your company is not at all as pleasurable as you deem it to be." She laughed. Arthur was a serious man, but even serious men had a sense of humor. "It is about my cousin."
"Alyanne seems to be better now. I saw her earlier and she seemed to have much color in her." Arthur had come by her in the halls. He knew fully well that she had been ordered by both Guinevere and Merlin to stay within the confines of her bed, but even he would not heed those words if they were directed towards him. He decided then that Guinevere didn't need to know about her little strolls. He chuckled inwardly in the memory. His wife could be vicious when she set her mind to it.
"No Arthur. It seems that there is another one of my cousins that has come to grace us with her presence."
"Another cousin?" That was not news he had expected. Arthur was not a man of surprises. He was more of a man of rationality, a Roman sickness that was inevitable for him to contract. But it seems that his wife was filled with them. He would have to get used to them sometime. "Your relatives seem to be flocking to the Wall as moths to a flame."
"Indeed they are. I could not be happier." She smiled at him.
He could see that she was happy with the arrivals. As he had long known, she missed home. He came to value her sacrifice each and everyday that passed.
"Elaine has come here under the orders of Merlin. She is a Priestess of the Old Ways. She has come to perform the Rites of Ilyaren. But I fear that it is set two days from now, for when the moon disappears from the skies."
"Two days? But the Lords…"
"Exactly my point. What do we do? Elaine will not forgo the Rites and neither will I. These were present even before any of us were born. They have endured both time and the fleeting memory of Man. They are a part of my people…our people. Since the Woads are now your people as well, you must respect the Old Ways."
"And I intend to." He spoke. He admired his wife's devotion and passion. When she set her mind to something, she would see it through. It was her way. He liked seeing her like this. And of course, she was right about the matter as well. He was King now, what ever that meant. They were his people, and their beliefs were no small matter. He would respect them and expect the same courtesy to be offered to him and those who share his religion. "The two will just have to coincide."
"Coincide?"
"Yes. Roman and Woad alike must learn that they are now part of the same people. There is nothing now that separates them. We are all Britons now. We will honor both ways."
"I doubt that they will be civil with one another." That was a bit of an understatement to be sure. The two peoples had indeed been sworn enemies for the past decades and now they were expected to be in the same premises with each other. Guinevere had faith, but not enough to believe that these two would share conversations with each other.
"They need to be civil with each other if we are ever to become a country. Unity will be vital at times like these." Arthur spoke with conviction. There would be no unity unless they can stand in a room together for the duration of an evening.
"You have just given me twice the amount of preparations…but I would not have it any other way." Guinevere smiled at her husband. She had no doubt in her mind that he would be an excellent King.
I have started casting this fic in my mind people. Yes I know, I am that mad. But of course, the original KA cast is carried on. These are the people I have brought in for the original characters. It just helps me imagine things more.
Lena Headley - Alyanne
Christian Bale - Bragdon
Rose Bryne - Elaine (yeah, I know Elaine is blonde, but I want Rose Bryne and by gosh, she will be Rose Bryne in my thoughts)
Other OC's faces will be announced by their coming. If you have better suggestions, please do tell me.
If you are new to my stories, please take the time to review each chapter, so that I may get specific feedback on all...if it isn't too much to ask...if it is, just hit me on the head with a silly stick.
Review! Review!