Chapter Sixteen
Jocelyn and Gaius were in his chambers, Jocelyn flicking through a book he leant her full of mythical beasts (some that had been revealed as far from mythical) and asking him questions as he pottered around mixing medicines, when a knock came at the open door. They both turned towards it and saw one of Uther's knights standing tall in the doorway.
"Sorry to bother you Gaius, milady, but Lady Morgana is asking for you, Lady Jocelyn."
"Has it been an hour already?" Jocelyn sighed and got to her feet. "May I keep the book for now, Gaius?"
He smiled at her, glad that someone was interested in what he had to teach. "Of course, I'll have Merlin take it to your room."
"Thank you."
Jocelyn smiled at him and nodded to Sir Leon as she passed him in the doorway. As he began to follow her down the corridor, she raised her eyebrows at him but he pretended not to notice. Unless Jocelyn was very much mistaken, Morgana had charged him to keep her in his sights until she reached the withdrawing room.
They traveled the castle in silence, until they reached their destination and Jocelyn sent Leon another look. He gave a slight smile and bowed, but refused to be drawn on his orders.
"Milady." Was all he said with another nod of his head and left her to enter the lion's den.
Jocelyn hated spending too much time with the noblewomen of Camelot. Their values and responsibilities were so widely divergent from her own she found it increasingly difficult to maintain a conversation with any of them. If they had sons they were always hopeful in promoting a marriage, if they had daughters they judged her harshly, not least because she had reached the age of eighteen without being married herself, some of their own children had been married at a much younger age.
The guards were already opening the doors for her, however, and announcing her name to the gathered assembly. She entered the room as calmly as she was able, nodding at those who curtsied to her and seeking Morgana as subtly as she could.
Seeing her sister by the fireplace, Jocelyn changed her trajectory, skirted around Gwen and hissed at Morgana under her breath.
"You sent Leon to escort me? I knew where to go."
"Clearly it was required, you're late." Morgana replied quietly. "Lady Catherine," she said in a much clearer voice and turned to the older woman beside her. "May I present my younger sister, Lady Jocelyn. Jocelyn, Lady Catherine, the first lady of Mercia."
Catherine had rank and seniority on Jocelyn, despite this being Jocelyn's city, and the younger woman swept her a curtsey.
"A pleasure, my lady."
Catherine nodded but didn't reply, her eyes raking over Jocelyn in judgment. Jocelyn found herself praying that Catherine had no unattached sons. Morgana registered that neither of them had anything further to say, and gestured one of Camelot's noblewomen to them.
"And this is Lady Matilda, who I believe has visited Mercia before."
Lady Matilda was one of Jocelyn's least favourite courtiers and she couldn't help thinking that it was typical Matilda would have the perfect subject for discussion with the visiting dignitaries. She only checked the rolling of her eyes when she caught sight of Mistress Coulthard on the other side of the room; the governess was clearly ignoring the conversation of the woman standing next to her and was instead trying to communicate silently with her pupil, miming standing up straight and pulling her shoulders back. Jocelyn sighed and looked away, following her instructions regarding her posture and attempting to not let her boredom show visibly in her expression.
Having provided Lady Catherine with a companion and a topic of conversation, Morgana gave her a nod and pulled Jocelyn away. They made their way through the assembled guests and courtiers together until Morgana was addressed by some of the women and Jocelyn left her to it. She had seen Lady Ianthe across the room and knew that there was someone she wouldn't mind sitting next to and conversing with for a while, despite the disapproval that she knew would positively radiate from Mistress Coulthard.
Lady Ianthe was always instantly recognisable; her brassy blonde curls standing out amongst the generally dark women of Camelot and her intensely fashionable toilettes the envy of many of the women gathered in this room and, Jocelyn was convinced, the real root of many of the spiteful rumours that surrounded the woman. Jocelyn liked her for her amusing take on court life, however, and Lady Ianthe always had something interesting to say or amusing to relate.
Lady Ianthe greeted her with a smile and patted the seat next to her in invitation. Almost before Jocelyn had sat down, Ianthe began to talk.
"Have you heard about the poem that lovely Sir Owain has written?"
"No, who was it to?"
Lady Ianthe cast a deceptively bashful look around them before raising an eyebrow at Jocelyn.
"Ianthe!" she exclaimed, as much amused as she was surprised. "He didn't write it for you?"
Ianthe drew herself up in mock indignation, the smile lingering on her lips intimating her own amusement. "And why not?" she demanded. "I'm sure he has much reason to write it to me as he has anyone."
"Of course he has, but he's barely nineteen!"
Ianthe herself was thirty if she was a day, had three bouncing children all under ten and a husband who was another fifteen years her senior: to see Sir Owain trailing after her and declaring undying love would be a sight indeed.
"But you have not heard his verses," Ianthe protested. "Such maturity." She pulled a piece of parchment from the bosom of her dress and cleared her throat dramatically as Jocelyn grinned at her antics. "Lo, see the golden sun, Light the molten yellow of her curls, The roses round of her cheeks, And the sapphire blue of her eyes – "
Jocelyn could see over Ianthe's shoulder that there was still at least another five verses but neither lady could control her mirth for long enough to read them. It was only when Jocelyn saw that the condemning gaze of Morgana, the haughty disapproving one of Lady Catherine and the positively furious one of Mistress Coulthard were all upon them that she calmed herself enough to be able to speak sensibly.
"I do hope that when he presented you with this fine work, you accepted it graciously."
Ianthe's eyes twinkled. "But, my dear, that is the best bit! He sent it by one of the pages!"
The pair collapsed into further giggles and perhaps it was for the best that two of Camelot's minstrels appeared not soon afterwards and began to regale the group with some of the latest music that was traveling the land. The pressure was taken off the conversation and Jocelyn was granted the opportunity to concentrate extremely hard on a piece of embroidery Mistress Coulthard shoved into her hands as she came to take control of her charge, and therefore avoid any further dissolving into amusement.
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Lady Catherine making it clear that she required several hours to prepare for the feast came as something of a relief to Jocelyn. She had been forcibly removed from Ianthe's company and had to suffer Mistress Coulthard holding forth on her opinions regarding the bard's musical choices, opinions that were as dull as they were plentiful, while she pricked her fingers on her embroidery needle. Regarding her work for a moment before putting it decidedly to one side, Jocelyn was forced to acknowledge she would have to unpick and redo the vast majority of it as, while her thoughts had been wandering, her neat stitches had also wandered creating a definite and unintentional slant that did nothing for the pattern.
Getting to her feet, Jocelyn moved away from her watch woman to where Morgana was waiting to lead Lady Catherine from the room. Unusually Jocelyn was quite prepared to let Elaine spend a considerable amount of time on her hair (or at least pretend to), it being an activity that did not require her governess' presence and would grant her some freedom before the feast. She would be confined to her rooms by her excuse but there were half a dozen pleasant things she could do to occupy herself. Feeling pleased with her plan, she spoke to Lady Catherine more cordially than before, causing their visitor to narrow her eyes in suspicion, an expression Jocelyn blithely ignored.
Elaine was quick to realise that whatever her mistress' plans, they did not involve preparing for the feast this far in advance. Leaving her in peace, she turned her attentions to her own preparations, arranging dress, jewellery, pins and all manner of other implements which might be required. She returned to Jocelyn's rooms some time later, having been to the kitchens for a jug of hot water, to find Jocelyn curled up on the window seat pouring over a book and smiling softly to herself.
Setting down the heavy jug, Elaine placed herself before mistress and said softly, "My lady?"
"Mm?" Jocelyn replied, not looking up from her book.
"It's time to dress for the feast."
Jocelyn raised her eyes at that, looking at Elaine for a long moment until her maid nodded in confirmation that it really was time. Sighing, Jocelyn straightened in her seat, using a length of ribbon to mark her place in the book before getting slowly to her feet. Though she would never admit it, it came as a relief to move, she had been bent too long over her reading and her neck had grown stiff.
Reaching up a hand to massage the top of her spine, she surveyed what Elaine had laid out for her as her maid began to undo the dress she had worn to greet the Mercians. Before allowing her mistress out of her care earlier in the day, Elaine had managed to get her to make a decision on her evening dress so it could be shaken out, aired and steamed in time for the feast. Jocelyn reached out a hand to stroke its skirts, running a finger over the glinting embroidery even as she stepped obediently out of her day dress.
Though this was the first time she would wear it, Jocelyn was rather proud of the dress. Following her sudden inclusion at court, Morgana had decreed she required several new dresses, something she was supported in by Mistress Coulthard. Being measured, pinned and pricked was not something Jocelyn enjoyed, but, after the first very boring afternoon, she decided she should have something she truly enjoyed wearing out of the experience. So while Morgana made most of the decisions, pointing the dressmaker's assistants towards heavy bolts of blues, greens and purples and running her hand over diaphanous folds of tulle and muslin in cerulean, emerald and amethyst, Jocelyn had the ordering of one dress exactly as she pleased and it was this she had asked Elaine to lay out for the evening.
It was not a subtle dress. Made up in bright Camelot crimson silk, the gold embroidery on the skirt picked out the Pendragon crest. The cut was low at the front, long sleeved and the skirt flared out so that when she walked it rippled and swayed over the ground like one of the knights' cloaks. Smoothing down the front as she looked in the mirror, Jocelyn couldn't help smiling – there was certainly no doubting where her loyalties lay.
Elaine had her sitting before her mirror, hair braided and pinned and Uther's present clasped around her neck in short order, and almost before Jocelyn could grow restless. Thanking her maid, she picked up her skirts and hurried from the room, knowing if she was late to the banquet and missed the speeches, the effect of her dress would be unfavourable as Uther would much prefer her not to be so obviously linked to his kingdom.
For such an important diplomatic occasion, every effort had been made to dress the hall as impressively as those within it. Great long tables were set in a square, the shorter two at either end reserved for the Kings and their respective houses, and the longer tables set for the opposite courts. The food was piled high, the plate glittering after the hard work of many servants and, in the middle of the tables, the scroll that would be signed to signal peace between the two great kingdoms.
Jocelyn was not the last to arrive, Uther, Bayard and Arthur had yet to emerge from the antechamber, but the hall was already full of people from the opposing lands. There were several examples of attempts at friendship around the room, Morgana was still at Lady Catherine's side, attempting to conceal her boredom at Lady Matilda's latest anecdote, and Jocelyn could see Sir Leon standing shoulder to shoulder with the equally tall Sir Geraint, both looking down on a Mercian Lord, Leon with an expression of polite incredulity, Geraint with growing impatience.
Seeing Ianthe in the crowd and hoping to hear the rest of Sir Owain's verse, Jocelyn made her way towards her. Before she had moved far however, she caught the eye of Mistress Coulthard and rapidly changed direction having no wish to call her governess down on her. Heading towards her place at Camelot's high table and the goblet of wine that would be awaiting her there she resigned herself to an uninteresting evening.
Soon, the two Kings and Arthur entered the room, all looking pleased with themselves. Morgana had joined Jocelyn at the table and given her a nod of approval that Jocelyn had been hard pressed not to roll her eyes at. Now Uther was also pleased to look upon her with approval and, while Jocelyn had dressed with the intention of stating her loyalty to Camelot, she was now uncomfortable with the King's favour. Glancing towards Arthur to see if he had noticed her laying down her allegiance she noticed he was instead looking towards his manservant, glee in his expression. Looking over her shoulder at Merlin it was obvious to see why. He had the poor boy trussed up in a tabard and singularly ugly feathered hat and Merlin looked as though he was thinking of ways to make the Prince's life deeply uncomfortable.
Bayard and Uther both leant down to sign the treaty and straightened to clasp each others' arms as applause rang out across the chamber. Clapping herself, Jocelyn went to sit down in anticipation of the feast ahead. Bayard, however, seemed not to appreciate this and continued standing.
"People of Camelot," he began, looking around the room. "For a great many years we have been mortal enemies, and the blood of our men stains the ground from the walls of Camelot to the gates of Mercia. And though we remember those who have died, we must not allow any more to join them." There was a pause as all present bowed their heads, remembering those that had been lost. "As a symbol of our goodwill," Bayard continued after a moment, waving forward a serving girl. "And of our newfound friendship, I present these ceremonial goblets to you, Uther, and to your son, Arthur, in the hope that our friendship may last." He present the goblets to the King and Prince. "Tonight we toast a new beginning for our peoples. We look towards a future free from the toils of war."
Another servant approached to fill the two new goblets and both Uther and Arthur held them up in toast.
"May the differences from our past remain there. To your health, Uther." Bayard said, raising his own goblet to the King who returned the salute. "Arthur." Bayard turned to the prince and raised his goblet to him before turning to the two ladies and repeating gesture. "Lady Morgana. Lady Jocelyn." Morgana nodded and Jocelyn gave him a brief smile, wondering at the how long he was managing to continue his speeches for. Bayard turned to the rest of the room. "The people of Camelot."
Jocelyn raised her goblet to her lips only to have to lower it again as Uther spoke.
"And to fallen warriors on both sides."
Both Kings exchanged a solemn nod and, finally, members of both courts drank their wine.
Before Jocelyn could take more than a sip, however, she was shocked into choking slightly when Merlin ran across the room calling, "Stop! It's poisoned! Don't drink it!"
He seized Arthur's goblet from his hand, holding it away from the Prince, and Jocelyn quickly put down her own cup, wiping any remaining wine from her lips.
"What?" Uther demanded, looking from Merlin to Bayard.
"Merlin, what are you doing?" Arthur looked dumbfounded and the rest of the court not much better.
Merlin took a breath for courage. "Bayard laced Arthur's goblet with poison."
"This is an outrage!" Bayard cast his own goblet aside to better draw his sword, and his men were quick to follow suit. The knights of Camelot were just as quick to react and Leon and Geraint moved to stand between Bayard and the high table where Jocelyn and Morgana still stood, Jocelyn staring at the scene in front of her, Morgana seizing the knife from her table setting and grasping it ready to defend herself.
With a clatter of swords and armour, guards rushed into the room lowering their spears to threaten the Mercian faction.
"Order your men to put down their swords," Uther ordered. "You are outnumbered."
"I will not allow this insult to go unchallenged!" Bayard blustered, continuing to wield his sword around in a threatening manner.
Uther scowled at him before turning on Merlin. "On what grounds do you base this accusation?"
"I'll handle this," Arthur interrupted, moving around the table to grab Merlin by the arm. "Merlin, you idiot," he said managing to sound both irritated and inject a note of warning into his voice. "Have we been at the sloe gin again?" He grabbed his goblet back and tried to hustle his servant from the scene.
"Unless you want to be strung up," Uther said, coldly threatening, "You will tell me why you think it's poisoned. Now."
"He was seen lacing it." Merlin declared.
"By whom?"
Merlin hesitated. "I can't say," he admitted after a pause.
"I won't listen to this anymore." Bayard declared, starting forward, sword still in hand.
"Pass me the goblet." Uther ordered, holding out his hand and Arthur passed it to him. "If you're telling the truth - "
"I am." Bayard interrupted.
"Then you have nothing to fear, do you?"
The Mercian King eyed him for a moment, before sheathing his sword and reaching for the goblet.
"No," said Uther, changing his mind. "If this does prove to be poisoned, I want the pleasure of killing you myself."
So much for talk of peace and reconciliation, Jocelyn thought looking between the men and the identical looks of intense hatred they were now throwing at each other.
Uther held out the goblet towards Merlin. "He'll drink it."
Jocelyn gasped, staring at the King and Arthur moved to stand in front of his father, between him and Merlin.
"But if it is poisoned, he'll die!" He protested.
"Then we'll know he was telling the truth."
"And what if he lives?" Bayard demanded.
"Then you have my apologies, and you can do with him as you will."
"Uther, please!" Gaius protested, stepping forward to attempt to defend his ward. "He's just a boy! He doesn't know what he's saying!"
"Then you should've schooled him better." the King replied coldly, repenting not at all in the face of his old friend's pleas.
"Merlin, apologise." Arthur ordered, without expecting him to obey. "This is a mistake. I'll drink it!"
Uther looked as though he had second thoughts at that and both Morgana and Jocelyn started forward slightly.
"No, no, no," Merlin argued, holding the goblet away from him and moving out of reach. "No. It's, it's alright."
He toasted both Bayard and Arthur and drank from the goblet.
The entire room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for what might happen next, until Merlin sighed lightly.
"It's fine."
Relief flooded the room and Uther fixed the servant with a cold look.
"He's all yours." he informed Bayard, turning away from the scene. Those who held Merlin's well being as important began to protest but before they could get very far, Merlin choked, took a small step forward and fell to the floor, unconscious.
"It's poisoned. Guards, seize him!" Uther cried and great number of people rushed forward. Guards to catch hold of Bayard and his men and Gaius and Arthur to drop down by Merlin's side. Jocelyn also moved towards him but was kept away by Geraint and she could see Leon doing the same to Morgana, attempting to remove her safely from the scene. Gwen had managed to reach Merlin and hovered anxiously by Gaius' side as he made a preliminary examination.
"Merlin. Can you hear me?" there was no response and Gaius glanced up at Arthur. "We have to get him back to my chambers."
The Prince nodded and bent scoop up Merlin in his arms and started from the room.
"Bring the goblet," Gaius instructed Gwen. "I need to identify the poison."
All four left the room, havoc in their wake, and before Jocelyn was allowed to make a decision for herself, she found she was being hustled from the room by Sir Geraint, apparently the knight appointed to oversee her safety in particular that day.
"Geraint, stop!" she protested, even as she was moving through the door. "No one's threatening me, I'm fine. I want to see what's happening! You can't make me leave!"
Having known her since she was a girl, covered in mud and getting into scrapes, and finding her current protests sounded very like those of spoilt child, Sir Geraint found himself able to ignore the fact she was now an acknowledged and fully fledged member of the court with some authority of her own. With a skill developed by looking after his mother's chickens, he managed to shepherd her out of the room and up the stairs with little difficult and by the time they had reached the corridor that led to her chamber, Jocelyn had realised the indignity of trying to overcome a knight almost a foot taller than her and resigned herself to the fact that the best she could hope to achieve now was to redirect them to Morgana's rooms rather than her own so she would at least have someone to speak to about the events that had transpired. She had no difficulty in believing that her sister would have been encouraged to retire from the great hall as well and with as much success. Sir Leon also favoured the chicken shepherding method.
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