Hello all, back again! Well firstly a big thanks to Nerw20, I'm so glad you're enjoying the story, that's a lovely thing to hear. Rtms, once again graceful in critique so thanks to both of you. Something that has been brought to my attention is the jarring effect in some of my transitions. All I will say is that when I'm still in the writing I do put in lines like to say "end of scene" for want of a better description but I hadn't realised until it was mention that these apparently aren't showing up when I go to post that I apologise, that's obviously something I need to look at when I'm uploading. Must also apologise for the delay in this chapter- I was away for a few last week then came back full of the flu- delightful! On the plus side this will be a longer chapter as I have a lot say (I know, imagine that!) :-D
Chapter (unlucky for some) Thirteen
To say that Gwen was happy when Arthur and Merlin arrived home would, perhaps, be a slight understatement as she rushed forward to leap into Arthur's arms. Merlin, as ever, remained hovering in the background by the horses; watching the pair as they began to drift away with Arthur's arm about Gwen's shoulders and he heard the sandy-haired prince muttering something about how insufferable Morgana had been during the short visit. This brief return to Camelot had given Merlin a chance to appreciate just how much life had changed over the previous few months. He had just begun to lose himself in a really pleasant daydream before being flattened to the ground when a saddle that had been levelled at him made solid contact with his gut.
"Come on Merlin, get those horses away!"
Well...maybe things hadn't changed for him exactly...
Scrabbling up from the dusty earth he turned to look once more at the couple before leading the horses away to the school's stables. Arthur and Gwen had turned to face each other in what would, in any other circumstances, have looked like a decidedly romantic pose with the sun setting behind them recreating their figures as shadows but Merlin was all too aware that the words being exchanged between the two would be anything but tender.
"So did you receive the gift I sent you?" Arthur asked coyly.
Gwen's face was doubtful; "if you mean those sweaty old knights then yes. They have already started training the majority of the villagers." The sounds of which could be heard somewhere in the background by a nondescript clattering of sword against shield.
Arthur's expression took on a graveness which had lately been all too readily apparent on the young man's features, "do you believe they will be ready soon?"
Gwen's confusion was self-evident; "ready for what?"
"Ready to fight a war" his voice was brittle yet not unkind. Simply the tired tones of a man who has resigned himself to his fate but he brushed the back of his hand lightly over Gwen's cheek just the same; "we may not have as long as we thought. When Merlin and I arrived in Camelot there was a man there who...well, he has harboured hostility towards Camelot for many years. Before now he has never been seen as a real threat but somehow he has gained the wherewithal to amass an army of Angles and Saxons which could be poised to attack at any time now."
Guinevere gasped, covering her open mouth with trembling fingers. "Oh, Good God!"
"I know, it's a shock"
"No, no it's not that" she interjected before he could continue, waving her hand to silence him; "Arthur, there were ships, yesterday. They sailed right past us. The scouts along the shore spotted them in the afternoon."
Arthur broke away, giving a loud, sharp grunt in frustration; "They could be anywhere by now. For all we know my Father's city may already be lost!"
"Oh Arthur, if I had known!" Gwen implored from behind.
The young Prince pulled his would-be Queen back into his embrace though he knew it would offer little comfort. They shared a brief, perfect moment together until the next unwanted disturbance came bounding up to them, only this time it was not Merlin.
"Hello Arthur, good to see you back!"
"Elian, you weren't here when he left." Gwen replied quite correctly if somewhat petulantly. Still Arthur gave the other man a token slap on the back just the same.
"Elian, good to see you to. How are you?"
"I'm well. Been working hard" and he pointed at Guinevere, "this one's a hard task-master!"
Gwen decided it was time to interrupt before any misunderstandings erupted; "Elian has been working, yes. We set up a temporary forge in one of the old barns. He has been churning out weapons and keeping the horses shod ever since he came to us...just after you left."
Arthur gave a smile to both brother and sister; "that's alright, Elian. I have one just like her in Camelot!" which earned him a very sincere slap on the arm from Gwen's direction- honestly, comparing me to Morgana!
"Up to your old tricks again, I see Arthur" came Merlin's voice from behind as he trotted up to meet them. "Elian! Didn't know you were here, are you staying with us?"
Gwen could only cringe as Arthur responded by thumping his hand onto the Blacksmith's shoulder again, saying "of course he must stay!"
The next evening when all were fed and sat contentedly around the fire after a proper welcome home feast a shout came from the watchtower; riders were advancing towards the town gates...riders from Camelot. Arthur, Gwen and several of the knights jumped to their feet. Merlin decided that someone should keep an eye on the fire and made to stretch out before a rough hand grabbed his shoulder and dragged him off with the rest of the party. By the time he and Arthur had caught up the riders were already dismounting from the great white geldings that Camelot had become so famous for. One thing Arthur could say for his sister- she had done some very good work developing the city's cavalry capabilities as he had seen for himself.
As the first man took a step forward he bowed before the lady of the town leaving Gwen a little taken aback- she had never been paid such homage before and certainly never by a knight!
"My Lord, my Lady, my name is Sir Bedivere. I am sent by the Queen of Camelot, the Lady Morgana.."
But Arthur quickly held up a hand; "we know who she is. What is your message?" Perhaps the response was harsh but he had heard enough from the great Lady to last him!
"I apologise," and here he introduced his companion, "this is Sir Drustan. We were both sent from Camelot with very different purposes but quickly found our journeys entwined. I have been charged with a duty to find you, the Lady Morgana seeks your help- we have received reports of rebel uprisings in the border counties instigated by Cadeyrn's influence. It is only a matter of time before our once neighbours rise against us. The Lady begs your help against these enemies for they are your enemies as well. If Camelot falls to the Saxons then the last British stronghold will be lost and each outlying settlement will be picked off one by one. Sir Drustan, here, was sent to trace the progress of the Saxon invaders and his trail led him in this direction."
The other, somewhat younger man gave a fearful nod. "I traced a path along the coast, I found the ships moored up along the way there," and he pointed to some far-off place over his shoulder, "but there was no man on board any of the vessels. They will already be on the march and can surely not go unnoticed much longer but as yet I have found no trace of them."
Arthur nodded, taking pity on them. They were given a bed for the night and what little food the encampment could spare to stave of the knights' hunger. It would be a hard course of riding the next day to warn Camelot of its impending trials but the question remained- would there be anything left to save on their return?
The following afternoon in Camelot's Great Hall Morgana looked up from the array of maps and charts on the Council's Table as the colossal oak doors burst open to reveal two very exhausted knights. Every occupant in the courtroom, including the Queen herself, stood up at the men's arrival. The newly appointed Sir Bedivere and his companion Sir Drustan fell to their knees rather than managing a more deliberate kneel before the Lady.
"My Lady," gasped out Bedivere, his breath coming in heavy gulps, "My Lady we travelled hard all night, fearing you may already have been attacked. You sent us both on very separate missions; I to find Arthur and Drustan to learn if the Saxons had made in-roads to Britain. About half-way through out journeys we discovered we were on the same path. My Lady, Saxon ships were sighted by Arthur's men the day before we arrived. Guinevere, your former maid, she heard the warnings from the coastal scouts. There were hundreds of them. Your Majesty, Drustan saw the ships with his own eyes not thirty miles from here but they were empty; for all we know the invasion you have dreaded may already be upon us."
Morgana had never experienced a deafening silence before but she had a feeling it was something like this. Turning to the tall windows that dominated the hall she watched the great beams of light that seemed to cut the room into great sections. Dark, into Light, into Dark, into Light...the effect was almost magical in itself. Absently and probably much to the consternation of the court she asked of Bedivere absently; "where is this place that Arthur has made his home?"
Confused, Bedivere told her that Arthur's settlement was on the land that once belonged to the Iceni people. Morgana's gaze grew yet more distant as she recalled a story that she had heard as a girl; the story about of the fiery Iceni queen who had once led her people against the patriarchal might of Rome many centuries before. Against all the odds Boudica had almost been successful. Could Morgana do the same now but this time win?
"Defend the city..." came the voice of her Lieutenant, the man who was there, essentially, to see that the Queen's laws were carried out during times of peace but he was also her chief military tactician, having served Uther loyally in years past, though in this instance Morgana raised her hand, stopping the man short. When she spoke again it was almost as if the wisdom came forth from some other age, perhaps history itself as calling to them now to act and the room hushed to hear it speak;
"If the Saxons landed yesterday then they will already be on the march. Our best defence will be to face them in open battle before they have the chance to even contemplate storming the citadel. I tried it before myself, or perhaps you have forgotten Agro?" and here she turned to look pointedly. He may have been her Lieutenant but her say would be final. "We should stop them before they reach the city walls. I choose the ridge just past the clearing. If they have come from the coast their most likely route would lead them straight to us- there is no easy way to circumnavigate the ridge from that direction, their only option will be to climb. Our men will have the high ground and their training in their favour, our only downfall will be our lack of numbers if Cadeyrn has amassed the numbers he claims." She turned to Bedivere, "what of Arthur?"
"He is on his way My Lady but who knows when he will get here."
"Then we are alone." She took a step towards Gaius who, as ever, stood quietly in the shadows of the wall. "Gaius, if you are able, I need you to prepare supplies for a dressing station. There will be many wounded, summon every servant we have in the court and use them in any way you see fit- they would be little use with sword in-hand but I have no doubt they will play their part well under your guidance."
Gaius watched the woman closely, she truly had created herself a leader. While he had never been thrilled, exactly to reside under her rule he now eyed her with something akin to respect and nodded his compliance; "as you wish My Lady." They both knew the human cost of a war but were also all too aware of the disaster that awaited them should Morgana's troops be forced to retreat, being pursued all the way home by the Saxon dogs.
The Queen turned and nodded her dismissal to the rest of the room.
The Palace, as Morgana made her way back to her chambers, was a hive of activity though doubtless nobody really knew why. It was always better if the people were not given time to panic- the last thing the Queen needed was an uprising in the streets! She was followed through the door by Aelwyd, both of them relatively calm given the circumstances even as Morgana grimaced to herself through gritted teeth; and where is this 'help' I was promised from Avalon, hmm? I don't see any little old priestesses making their way up the path! But the Queen let out an almighty screech at the sight before her;
"!" the maid behind her dropping the silver tray and jug she was carrying.
There, in the full-length glass were two figures. Albeit figures Morgana knew well but still, what on Earth were Morgause and her Mother doing in her mirror!
"What...what...wha'..." her index finger pointed and lowered as she desperately tried not to faint.
"Morgana, you asked for help and here we are. Now get us out of here, we simply cannot stay here all day!" Morgause urged, even as her image began to flicker and distort but Morgana simply stood staring in a state of sheer catatonia. Her mother began to tap at the glass, peering out through mirror face;
"Is this working? Can she see us Morgause?"
"No Mother, of course not. She has just screamed at an empty mirror!" came the exasperated response.
"Morgause, you may be dead but do not think you are above a slap from your Mother!"
Despite the situation Morgana thought it highly amusing to see Morgause, who had always seemed the very essence of combined serenity and silent power, being taken in-hand with such ease by their mother.
"Morgana, darling, just put your hand to glass and invite us through. Morgause is right, this magic will not hold for much longer."
It took a little while but after a few moments of being told "closer", "up a little" and "no, that's too far" her Mother's hand finally emerged from the rippling reflection, gradually followed by the rest of her until she stepped out from the glass entirely. Viviane found herself swiftly wrapped up in a warm embrace. The first time, she thought, The first time I have ever held my Mother! But she was soon broken out of her reverie by a rather panicked throat-clearing;
"Hello! If you two have quite finished?"
Viviane let out a quick "oh!" reaching in to retrieve her other daughter before the image of her disappeared entirely.
Morgana's smile altered when she stepped back and actually looked at her mother and sister. Something was not quite right. They were...glowing? "Mother, how did you two...?"
"Darling, there is no time to explain but we have been allowed to return on this one occasion. The Saxons are powerful and while you have the strength of an experienced army it will take something altogether more powerful to defeat such a threat. This no longer involves only Camelot. The entire land is at stake."
"So you haven't...absconded...from anywhere? You haven't broken some magical code just to get here?"
"No of course not! As if we would do a thing like that!" but then she turned to Morgause. "Well perhaps..." though at Morgause's scowl she thought better of voicing the thought "Perhaps not. Now tell me, how far away are the enemy?"
"Well, we are not entirely sure. They were sighted along the Eastern coast over a day ago so they will already be on their way." Morgana offered up weakly.
"Then we have no time to waste", Viviane turned to the younger blonde, "you must go and rouse the army, I will go to the hill and wake the Ladies from their rest."
"Ladies, what? Mother! Army? I have already sent word for the troops to begin gathering!" Morgana protested rather pathetically. There was little point in arguing with either her Mother or Morgause individually but together they created an unstoppable force of nature which brokered no room for debate.
"Not your army, Morgana. Not an army of mortals but an army of the dead. You will lead your own troops from Camelot but your sister shall be with you at the head of the mightiest army Camelot has ever seen. An army made of those warriors who have already fallen for this land and those who called this place home before Uther's City was ever conceived. They must rise and fight for it once more."
The dark-haired witch barely managed to conceal her disappointment as Morgause merely cupped her cheek before making a hasty departure without any further word.
Around about the time that Morgana's head was reeling from un-dead relatives appearing in her bedroom furniture Arthur looked to the motley array of troops before him waiting for some for of address. Watching them cling to their weapons and seeing the abject fear in their eyes he realised he had absolutely nothing to say. These were farmers and simple folk he had spent the last few months training which was perfectly fine as far as defending their homes went but these were not battle-hardened troops. He may have delved deeper into his private musings had in not been for the expectant stares of those below him and the supporting smiles of those at his side.
"Standing before me I see proud men, men of t-" but a dig in the ribs stopped him before he could continue. "Standing before me," he began again with more than a little exasperation tingeing the edges of his tone, "I see proud men...and women of this land. Each of you has proved your skill with the blade but now you have the chance to prove your heart in battle. It is up to you. It is your right to defend your homes. I am...we are...outsiders, we cannot tell you to defend yourselves but through your blood runs Iceni strength. Your ancestors proved themselves before many hundreds of years ago. If we win victory today then your grandchildren will still be telling their children your story. Walk into tomorrow with full heart and you will have honour for eternity to come."
When Merlin glanced at Arthur he could have sworn he saw the young man's eyes shining but to mention it would earn him a swift clout and Arthur was wearing gauntlets. With that, the Prince raised his arm and the vast swathe of bodies began to march, the ground thundering to the pounding of a thousand pairs of feet.
As night began to fall over Camelot the citadel was still buzzing with an even higher level of vivacity. By this time word had spread that the Queen was soon to be engaging them all in some mass battle and the court was ablaze with sightings of glowing sorceresses and ghost-like figures. Just what was the Queen up to with her strange magical ways?
In the sheer chaos of her surroundings Morgana found a brief moment of quiet in an old ruined part of the palace where she had once found sanctuary as a girl growing up in Uther's city. Through the crumbling stone window arches the moon beamed brightly, a reminder that the Lady had sent help in the form of her Mother and Morgause but who would be around to thank her after the battle was over? Footsteps crunched across the gravelly stone floor behind her and the most musical voice reached her ears just as a hand raised to lightly caress the young woman's shoulder;
"How do you feel Morgana?"
Morgana closed her eyes and breathed in the moment, petrified that none of it was real but the slight pressure and warmth from the other woman's hand remained where it was. "I don't know", she sighed, "but I am glad you are here." She turned to face the other woman. It was strange to see the slight bluish glow instead of Morgause's usual soft skin tones but the glow of the moonlight seemed to make her appear more mystical...and more beautiful. The older woman gave a small, guilty smile.
"I came to take you back. It is time for you to take your place." but as she took the younger girl's hand to pull her away she felt herself being tugged back and her lips were met by Morgana's insistent kiss. Their arms entwined as Morgause felt her whole body, spirit as it was, being tilted backwards oh-so-slightly by Morgana's ardent embrace. The kiss could only have lasted a minute or two but in that moment nothing else mattered. The last year of hurt and loneliness had never come to pass, there had only ever been the two of them, perhaps still content in their private kingdom at Morgause's Castle. Framed, in that decrepit arch-window, lit by only the moon their world existed once more. But it could not last and it was not long before that brief renewal of devotion collapsed into the harsh reality of what was. Morgause was a spirit, a visitor to this world of man that she could no-longer be a part of and Morgana was a Queen, very much alive, who must now lead her people against a very mortal threat.
With a raise of his arm he halted the assembly of marching troops. In the near distance he could hear the clip-clopping of a multitude of horses. Fearing it was the enemy they were catching up on he held his breath. As assistance to the greater military might of Camelot the two armies could very possibly win a victory but apart, they had no chance but what he saw only made him smile. Riding towards them at break-neck speed were the familiar forms of Lancelot, Percival, Leon and Gawain along with several other figures he did not recognise. He held out his hand to the group but Gawain spoke first;
"Arthur! Heard you were in a little trouble, we thought we'd join you!"
Incredulous, Arthur continued to stare in awe at the small troupe before him; "How did you...?"
This time Lancelot spoke up; "ask your Queen, Arthur!"
Gwen could only blush as all eyes turned to her and Arthur allowed his gaze to trip merrily along the delicate curves of her face, "you did all this?"
Lancelot continued when it became clear that Gwen was less and less inclined to be the centre of attention; "I received word that you needed help, luckily Gawain and I have kept in-touch and he with the others. We got here as quickly as we could." His eyes remained fixed on Guinevere but he made a show of bowing before her and the others quickly followed suit. "To Queen Guinevere!" came the chorus of men.
Gwen could only wave her hand in a mock swatting motion; "I am no queen, I assure you!"
Publicly, Lancelot responded that she was more queen than that witch in Camelot would ever be but privately, after they had rode on a little and Arthur could not hear his true reply came;
"You will always be my Queen, Gwen"
Just outside Camelot Morgana led her troops up the high ridge where her vast army would make their final stand. Above them the moon loomed high, full and proud as an expectant Mother. Perfect for drawing on the Lady's power. On her right flank Morgause's regiment of fallen soldiers cast a ghostly blue glow in the pitch-black night while on her left warriors of Celtic descent from the land of Cambria were deafening Sir Bedivere with their wild battle cries. She had sent messengers to the far north of Britannia, to the warring Celtic tribes that lived in the place beyond the wall that the Romans had called Caledonia with its vast swathes of Mountains and numerous lochs. Surely if the Saxons invaded down here then they would ransack their way north too so why should they not come and fight? She had sent her emissaries to the chiefs of the so-called Pictish factions, to the Gododdin in the East and to good King Rhydderch- a kind man and no friend of the Saxons- who reigned in the province of Strathclyde but the messengers had never returned.
All around her the tall, narrow carnyx belted out a terrific noise but to Morgana it was a strangely comforting sound, an ancient reminder of the past they were fighting for.
On a nearby hill Viviane stood with arms outstretched. Behind her was a seemingly endless row of women chanting out in long-flowing blue and white robes, adding their voices to the throng of battle-cries; every Lady since the inception of Avalon and down the subsequent centuries had been summoned from their rest to bring their magic to the world once more. Looking down onto the battlefield the blonde spirit could clearly see her daughters heading up their respective flanks, swelling with pride for them both but knowing all too well that very soon it would be impossible to make out either of them in the coming chaos. The magnitude of what they had to achieve was lost on none one. Even the spirits of Avalon were not immune to today's outcome. If the battle were to be lost then they, themselves, would simply vanish with no one left in the world to remember them.
Beyond the ridge the Saxon rabble came to a sudden halt, the sight before them terrifying in its very magnificence. The cacophony emerging from the top of the ridge was ear-splitting and many of their fighters seemed...no...they couldn't be...they were pulsing with some strange form of light! Cadeyrn's General pointed up to the hill where the women, looking more like furies than priestesses were shining out like human beacons.
"Witches..." he grunted with a disgusting leer, "...filthy little whores conjuring up tricks to frighten us."
Cadeyrn nodded but he knew the powers of these women all too well; "perhaps but do not underestimate them or the effect they will have on the men."
Above them the young Queen cast a sly glance to her side. Morgause was resplendent. The armour she wore was the most ornate she had ever laid eyes on but there again so was Morgause herself. Each plate bore wonderfully intricate scroll-work with interlacing vines etched around the edges. It was too skilled a piece to be man-made and with her curling hair flowing freely behind her the woman may have been a queen in her own right. Queen of the dead she thought came bitterly, as I may be myself soon enough. Perhaps the other woman had caught the message because she raised her eyes, offering up something akin to a reassuring smile. This would be Camelot's defining moment. It would be her defining moment and the outcome would rattle down through time. Either she would be a failure and her memory would fade or she would become some unnamed woman who led her people to victory like the Queen she had heard about as a young girl in her father's court. Either way, for the people of today, Victory was the only option.
Well there we have it for now,
Join me soon for the final chapter?
To be Continued...