Previously in The Exile
...He focused on the churned up earth. This was important.
Arthur brought his hand to Guinevere's ring, stroked the warm metal between his thumb and forefinger. The rage receded, the sea grew calm. He saw the churned muddied earth for what it was footprints, lots of footprints, rank upon rank of them...
King Arthur,Chapter 18, Two Roads
Gwen took a breath "When he was young, we were very different, very close. We played together as all children do and confided in one and other. Everything changed though when Padrig was accused of sorcery." Gwen drew her knees up to her chest. "Padrig was his best friend and truly they were more than that, more like brothers. I think Padrig filled the hole in his life when Elliot died. They were just fourteen when Padrig was burnt at the stake." She paused and licked her lips before continuing. "Elyan believed and probably rightly so that Padrig was innocent. He lost faith in everyone and everything after that."
Guinevere toYlsa, Chapter 14, Friends, Families and Magic
"You must accept my resignation sire."
"Elyan-"
"-Your father killed my father,"
-Arthur winced and everyone knew what must come next-
"-and now you've killed my sister."
Sir Elyan to King Arthur, Chapter 7, The Air in Camelot
Wartime Tales, Elyan
The scarlet cloth winked up at him from the bottom of his pack. Despite giving his oath back to Arthur Elyan had found himself unable to discard his cape or the other badges of knighthood. It lay instead in the bottom of his bag taunting him, teasing him, reminding him of the service he'd sworn to give. Service not just to Camelot's king but his fellow knights, the common people of Camelot; people like Enid and her husband Daffyd, people like Padrig now gone, people like himself. The promise to be the sword and shield betwixt them and danger, to dig trenches during spring flooding, haul buckets during fires, to face hell itself if that's where the oath called him.
It lay there on the bottom of his pack scarlet and gleaming, reminding him that he wasn't supposed to quit again, reminding him of his promise to himself. He shoved it hurriedly aside and the Kente cloth slid into view, green, orange and white with gold threading its way through.
The family heirloom that Gwen had lost at the river, carried by his great-grandmother Ngimbe all the way from Asante-land, a reward for heroic service to their king, to the people. Heroic service…he clutched at the faded Kente cloth.
Red and Gold
Gold threading its way through the kente cloth like veins in mine representing the value of the service his many times great-grandfather had given in that in unseen land. Gold, the color of the dragon emblazoned on the king's banner, testifying that they'd face any danger that came to harm their people. Gold, tying him to the service he'd sword to give little over a year ago, reminding him of how he was supposed to keep his word, reminding him of how he was supposed to be different now, better, a man, no longer a child. How the test of man's word came not during the easy times, but during the hard times, the impossible times. Reminding him that he was supposed to be keeping his word to make good in Gwen's eyes and yet…
Red and Gold
Red the color of blood, the tie to her, the mingled blood of their father and mother that ran in both their veins. He was supposed to take care of her just as she had taken care of him, she was his sister.
Red and Gold
Red and gold, the color of the fire that had consumed Padrig's life and sent him running in the first place. He beat the cape down into the bottom of his pack and tied it up fast. Tomorrow he would start the last leg of his journey away from Camelot.
The Lost Boy, tale the 1st
Elyan studied the inn. It was not one of the oversized wattle and daub lodges he'd been given hospitality in as of late. He fronted a two-story stucco and half timber building that was both clean and bustling. Their sign showed a horse, bed, and bath. Elyan smiled, thankful not for the first time that he had been scrupulous while employed and saved some of his pay. Tonight he was resting in comfort and style.
He'd crossed the border into Caerleon little more than a week ago. This village, Leslie was the first large village he'd come to. Besides a large inn it boasted a market, manor court, physician and a blacksmith by the name of Micah. If Gwen had passed through here on her way to Wyeledon she most likely would have paid a visit to the black smith. If she hadn't passed through Leslie many travelers did; someone here might have met her, spoken with her. That was the hope he nursed himself on at least.
Before leaving Camelot he'd gone back to the river to search the area where he'd found the Kente cloth for any sign of his sister. He'd found none. After weighing his options he'd decided to head southeast toward Wyeledon. If she had gotten away from the bandits she might have done as Gwaine suggested and made her way there. In every village he offered her description relying on the deference afforded to his mount and armor to get any information. However it seemed there was none. No one had seen a woman matching Gwen's description traveling southeast that spring.
Elyan paid for a pallet, care and stabling for Sheba, and spent the night at the Pig and Stick. He asked around as he did every night but got no news of her.
In the morning he paid a visit to the local blacksmith, Micah. Whenever he passed through Leslie he spent a few days with Micah. They discussed the craft and Elyan helped out in the smithy, in return Micah gave him meals and a pallet on the floor near his hearth.
"Elyan," Micah greeted him with a smile. The older man looked the typical black smith, large and meaty with thick well muscled arms, face red from the heat of the forge and smeared with soot. To Elyan he looked like a friend.
"It's been a long time. I thought you were living high as a knight of Camelot."
"Too many nose in the air nobleman," Elyan replied.
"That's no surprise."
Elyan surveyed Micah's home. From the outside it was an ordinary peasant cottage but he saw several pairs of shoes, all new from the look of it, summer capes, cooper cookware and he heard the ring of multiple hammers in the smithy. A glance through the little window into the smithy itself showed three new hands.
"What can I do for you? You looking for a job?" The older man asked.
"No, my sister." He gave the description of Gwen and told the story he'd decided on. The story of a widowed woman traveling to visit with her mother-in-law and gone missing.
"I'm sorry I haven't seen her. I would have made her welcome if she'd come this way." The large man frowned.
"I know." Elyan glanced about the room again. "You're doing quite well from the look of things."
"Couple good commissions," Micah shrugged.
"Yeah, must be some commissions, with the extra hands." Elyan's dark eyes narrowed.
Micah shrugged.
"Hope things stay as they have been with the treaty between Camelot and Caerleon."
"You're not a knight there anymore?"
"No but I got friends and family living there still."
"Hmm well no reason to suspect a change between Caerleon and Camelot." Micah said.
"Thanks Micah. I'll let you get back to work."
The two men clasped hands and Elyan strode away. Something was amiss. Blacksmiths made horseshoes, hinges, rods, locks, keys, anything made of metal but nothing kept them busy or paid like a war, and Micah's home looked like the home of a blacksmith in a nation making ready.
Elyan had learned a lot in a year and a half at court. The peace between Camelot and Caerleon was a fragile thing. Kings and queens were not autonomous; they relied on the support of their nobles and knights. Queen Annis might want peace, but if enough knights and nobles wanted war with Camelot she might find herself acquiescing. A sneak attack on Camelot might mean hundreds of thousands of lives lost. If Caerleon was planning to make war on Camelot he would have to warn them somehow.
Elyan started awake as a hand came down over his mouth.
"It's me." He recognized Micah's whisper in his ear. "I'm going to the stables, count twenty breaths and follow me."
Elyan heard the other slip away and lay in his pallet near the hearth, counting the twenty breaths over the snorts and snores of the inn's other guest. When he'd counted twenty, he counted another twenty just to be certain. Then he eased out of his pallet, belted on his sword and slipped out of the inn. He found Micah in the stables just as he'd said, face illumined by the light of the nighttime stars.
"What is it?"
"Six months ago a man came to me. Tall, brown, shaven headed and there was a woman with him. Dark-haired, fair of complexion, the man did not use her name though she called him Helios. The woman, he called her Morgana once and she seemed angry over it."
Elyan listened with growing dread as Micah told all that he knew. They had ordered swords and armor plates. Micah believed the woman to be Morgana Pendragon and the siege that they planned to be one for Camelot. More than that though they'd seemed confident that it would work.
"What are you going to do now?"The older man asked thumbs tucked into his belt.
"I don't know." Elyan pounded his fist into his palm. "I hate Camelot."
Uther had had his father killed and thanks to Arthur, Guinevere was lost, very possibly dead and yet Camelot was not just its kings. He had other family there- aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces and nephews; he had friends like Dafyd and Enid. How might Morgana treat them? Padrig's parents had seen their son burnt at the stake, how much more did they deserve to lose?
She'd lined up helpless peasants and had them shot to compel the allegiance of the knights, she rent the world asunder and brought the Dorocha upon them in an attempt to compel Arthur to sacrifice himself and leave the throne vacant for her.
"I'm sorry Gwen." Elyan put on his cloak and pointed his horse north towards Queen Annis' summer court. Arthur was no perfect king, but he could not leave Camelot and its people to Morgana.
His Pendragon badges got him past the castle gates easily enough. He did not request an audience with the queen but went instead to Camelot's ambassador Lord Constans of Cornwall. The older man listened to his story gravely and then took Elyan directly to a private meeting with the queen. Again he told his story. The queen did not interrupt him as he spoke. She listened and watched him an inscrutable expression on her face, small blue eyes, clear and steady.
Something about her put him in mind of a bird a falcon, strong, graceful, dangerous. After several breaths she finally spoke.
"Tell me Sir Elyan does your king know you are here in Caerleon?"
"No your majesty I am on a personal errand."
"Oh pray tell what that is?" She asked one small hand resting under her chin.
He got the sense that she already knew.
"It is a delicate matter your majesty."
"I find myself facing a dilemma with you Sir Elyan. Here you are a foreign knight, armed and armored in Caerleon without any permissions. Where did you cross into my kingdom? Did you tell them you were a knight when you did?" She waited hands loosely clasped in her lap.
Elyan considered for a moment.
"I am a knight no longer your majesty. I have given back my oath."
"But there you are with a golden dragon and red cloak carrying a warning of some attack on Camelot. Forgive me Sir Elyan but you look very much a knight of Camelot to me."
He swallowed.
"I may look it but I am no longer so."
"Because of your sister?" She asked at last.
Elyan bit the inside of his jaw.
"Sir Elyan if you are no longer a knight of Camelot and have cut ties with the place why should I give consideration to anything you have said? How do I know that you are not a," she paused searching for her next word, "vengeful troublemaker?"
"I may bear ill will toward the king of Camelot itself but Camelot like any land is not simply its kings," Elyan said. "It is a land of people, of friends, of family. A knight swears his service to those that are weaker than himself, women, children, the old and the crippled of a nation, the peasant farmers that labor to grow the food that graces his table. It is for those people that I have come to you now."
For a long time Annis was quiet, holding his gaze and then slowly she smiled.
"Well said Sir Elyan. Perhaps when these errands of yours have resolved themselves you will consider giving your oath to another nation."
Elyan started surprised and Annis merely laughed a warm, rich chuckle
"If I may interject your majesty," Lord Constans spoke up. "What do you wish to do about this black smith's story?"
"We shall send to Leslie for this Micah, but I believe we should investigate this immediately. Tell me Sir Elyan do you believe this Micah's story?"
"I can think of no reason for him to lie and I have known him for some years. Also his sudden wealth supports it."
"Yes and if one were to lie I would not involve Morgana in it." The queen looked thoughtful for a moment. "Summon the war council we must determine where this Helios and his army may reside and what steps we will take next. I mislike the idea that someone has lain within my borders to launch an attack on an ally and like the idea of having to treat with Morgana even less." She looked at him now. "Sir Elyan will you sit in on this council? You've crossed the border recently and if we would send men across Camelot's borders they would do better in the charge of one of Camelot's own."
"I will sit in on the council of course your majesty but-"
"It is a troubled thing to live with a divided heart Sir Elyan. You have chosen this path you would do well to see it through to its end."
He considered his words to Annis just a moment ago. Perhaps she was right.
The war council proved efficient and effective. Annis quickly focused the conversation of Caerleon's northwestern border. One of her knights suggested that Helios was most likely holed up in an abandoned fort or castle in the wild territories, not actually governed by Caerleon.
Lord Tyne pointed out that bandits in the northwest near Pons Aelius had grown quiet this year. If someone had pressed them into service that would explain why there had been no raiding. They narrowed their efforts down to two likely locations and Annis sent an advanced party to each while her knights picked up the blacksmith Micah.
Elyan volunteered to go to Pons Aelius and Lord Constans traveled with them. It took the advance party five days to reach Pons Aelius. A small village had grown up around the fort though all was now abandoned. A search of the space revealed that it had indeed been inhabited by an army but more importantly they found bits of correspondence not fully destroyed in fireplace.
Camelot
plans
Lord Agra
tunnels
The place looked to have been abandoned for perhaps two weeks.
"What will you do Sir Elyan? You could take the advanced party into Camelot. It could make all the difference?" Lord Constans looked at him waiting.
Elyan stared back at the other man feeling as if he had somehow stumbled into a trap.
The first of the Wartime Tales, stories from the occupation of Camelot is completed. The next is the second tale, Spring Flowers Hafrene's tale (Magistrate Grigor's daughter), after that The Blighted Blossom, Janet's Tale (second bracelet victim) and finally The Fallen Sheild, Gwaine's tale.