-29-

Five Months Later

"I have something for you." Lancelot held out a long object wrapped in cloth. Ryll smiled. This was the first time in twelve years that she'd had any sort of birthday celebration. Winter had come and gone, fading into spring, which had now taken ahold of April. The last of the snow had long ago melted, and the birds were returning to sing their songs.

Ryll untied the leather string that bound the package, unwrapping the cloth until she beheld a magnificent sword. It was longer than the one she carried, heavier too, but after the long, hard practices she and Lancelot had gone through since they had met, she was much stronger than she had ever been before. It was expertly made with a simple yet elegant hilt. A round blue stone had been set in the pommel.

"That stone reminded me of your eyes," Lancelot explained. "This doesn't have to replace your father's sword, of course, but it's always handy to have two swords."

"You made this?" Ryll asked in awe. She'd never seen something so beautiful, never held anything so beautiful.

"I've learned a thing or two from the blacksmith."

Ryll took the time to admire the blade properly, holding it up to the light, turning it at different angles so that the stone reflected the sun. It was perfectly balanced and light enough to carry for long distances without physical exhaustion.

"This is the best gift I've ever been given," Ryll said, setting the sword down gently before turning to throw her arms around Lancelot. He hugged her back.

"I'm glad you like it. I'm glad it turned out all right. It was touch and go a few times."

"It's beautiful and perfect." She pulled away, her eyes twinkling with energy. "What do you think about testing it out?" she asked, smiling wickedly.

Lancelot grinned back. "I was hoping you'd ask."

Their neighbors had long ago grown used to their backyard spars. They no longer received disapproving glances, and Ryll had even had some of the men nod to her as if in reverence. Over the winter, she'd relented and taken a job cleaning rooms at the inn. It had been long and mindless work, but the innkeeper was generous in paying his maids and lots of interesting people came through the inn. It was like a doorway between Mercia and Camelot, and she was able to keep up on news at the castle. She had heard that Camelot held another tournament last month and that some skinny farmer had unexpectedly taken the prize. She even heard a young girl had tried to enter, disguised as a man. This had brought a smile to her face. The girl hadn't been exiled from Camelot, just sentenced to a day in the stocks.

She was anxious to arrange a meeting with Morgana and Merlin, but they hadn't sent word yet as to when would be a good time. She knew that they were busy with their lives in Camelot and she was busy with her life here, but she was beginning to worry. She'd received one letter from Morgana that winter brought by a frozen messenger. Merlin had added in a letter as well. They both updated her on the goings on at the castle, Morgana expressing her distaste for Uther's actions and Merlin complaining about Arthur's latest injustices against him. Everything seemed normal. Ryll had written her own letter that night and sent her letter back with the messenger the next day, giving him a generous tip for his trouble.

"Are you ready?" Lancelot interrupted Ryll's thoughts as they stood facing each other in the yard, swords ready.

"Are you?" she challenged, swinging the sword reflexively to test it. It whipped through the air with an audible swoosh.

Lancelot attacked first, but Ryll was ready. They'd practiced scenarios – things they might come across if they were really knights. They'd practiced in the snow and in the rain and at night. Ryll felt better prepared than she ever had before. She could feel herself improving, and watched as Lancelot turned into an even better swordsman as well. They would make an unstoppable team together, of that Ryll had no doubt. She'd grown used to her life in Meldoran, come to appreciate it, but there was always a niggling in the back of her mind that reminded her of who she really wanted to be and where she really wanted to be. Lancelot tried to hide his same desire, but she could see it in his eyes when they practiced. They were wasted on this life, really. She wondered if anywhere else would make them knights. What about Bayard, king of Mercia? He and Camelot were on good terms right now though and she couldn't see Uther approving Bayard's knighthood of either of them. Who would knight a girl anyway? She could prove herself, sure, but people would laugh at her. She could take it, but could a king who wanted his army to look powerful? Somehow she doubted so.

She swung her sword up to block a blow from Lancelot, putting some force into a thrust that sent him back a few steps. They fought on, blow after blow clanking in the morning air. Ryll felt hardly winded. They fought on until Ryll maneuvered a complicated twist and sent Lancelot's sword flying to the ground, her own blade was at his neck in a moment.

"Touché," he said, smiling. "You've bested me."

Ryll drew her sword away with a flourish, sheathing it at her side. "I'd still say we're equally skilled. I got lucky." She bent over to pick up his fallen sword and handed it back to him. "Lancelot, I was thinking..." She hesitated, gathering her thoughts, trying to decide if this was really something she wanted to do. "I want to visit my parents' grave," she said in a rush. "I remember that they were buried at the edge of town in a small cemetery. Some of the villagers from the next town over came to help. It was a mass grave. I haven't been there since I was seven. But I want to say goodbye. Properly this time."

"We'll travel there."

"Are you sure? You don't have to come with me. Your job-"

"Can wait. I've worked hard. I'm sure Graham will give me some time off."

"Can we leave tomorrow?" Ryll didn't know why, but she felt a sudden urgency.

"Of course, I can speak with him today. Do you remember how to get to your village?"

"I think so. Hithar is – was – west of Camelot. It was just across the border of Caerleon. Probably a week's journey from here."

"Why don't I go speak with Graham, and you start packing," Lancelot suggested. "But remember, I'm cooking dinner tonight, and it's something special for your birthday."

"I haven't forgotten," Ryll said, smiling. "This is turning out to be the best birthday ever."

"I'm glad I could be here for it."

Ryll stopped at the stable to take care of Owl while Lancelot went off to speak with the blacksmith. She had mixed feelings about visiting her parents' grave. She knew it would bring back heartache and sorrow, but she had never felt closure with their deaths. It was time to fully move on from her past.

With his earnings, Lancelot had bought himself a stallion from a travelling horse trader when he had come through earlier that spring. He was jet black with no markings and stood at about sixteen hands tall. He was a destrier, a warhorse salvaged from the aftermath of a battle. He was perfect for Lancelot, and despite the high price, Ryll insisted he buy the stallion. She'd even chipped in most of her wages from the inn.

"He's a warhorse fit for a knight of your caliber," she'd told him.

He'd bought the stallion, but insisted that Ryll name him. "How about Gryphon?" she suggested. "That's the first beast you killed as a knight of Camelot."

"Technically that was after I was exiled, but I like it," Lancelot had conceded.

Now Gryphon hung his large head over his stall door, greeting Ryll with a nicker. Owl was stabled next to him, and looked tiny in comparison, but Ryll refused to trade her for a bigger horse. "She runs just as fast and is much more graceful," she'd insisted.

"Ready for breakfast?" She dolled out a serving of oats and hay for the horses, checking that their water was full before heading back into the cottage. She grabbed two saddlebags and packed clothes and provisions for the next day. They could head out before dawn to get a good start on the day. She knew of a river where they could refill their water skins along the way. When she looked around the cottage after packing, she realized that she'd packed basically everything they owned. They hadn't wasted money on trinkets. They'd spent it on paying rent, warm clothes, and plenty of blankets for the winter. They'd also bought lumber and sealed up all the drafty places in both the stable and the house. It had been a cold winter, and they had felt it, but they came through it all right. It was nice having a roof over her head, Ryll thought. Usually she found some cave or set up a tent to keep the snow from falling on her. Once or twice she'd found a nice family to take her in for the night.

She heard Lancelot return and turned to hear what his employer had said. "He said we can take as much time as we need. I told him we're going to visit your parents' grave and he understood."

"Good. I was thinking we could head out before dawn to get an early start."

"That sounds like a good plan to me. I stopped at the market and bought some more food that can withstand a few days on the road." He pulled out some fruit and a loaf of fresh bread. "The girls at the inn were asking for you," he said. "Anna said they had something for you."

Ryll had cut down her hours at the inn in order to plant crops for the summer, but she hadn't realized that the other maids actually missed her. They'd been hesitant around her at first, not quite knowing what to make of her, but in time they'd become friendly. It was nice having other people to talk to, Ryll realized. She missed Morgana's company and though Lancelot was fast becoming her best friend, she couldn't discuss gossip and dresses around him. It pained her to realize that she had actually gotten wrapped up in several rumors that the girls were sharing about so and so. It was fascinating watching the girls get so excited over some little detail of one of the villager's lives. Far away were conversations of evil sorcerers and political unrest.

"I'll go down there."

"I'm going to work a few hours for Graham so he's not overwhelmed when I'm gone," Lancelot said.

"Look at us," Ryll said, laughing. "We're almost normal."

The two maids, the cook, and the innkeeper were waiting for Ryll when she entered the inn, gathered around one of the empty tables in the front room.

"We heard it was your birthday," Anna said, smiling at Ryll. Anna was a young woman, a little older than Ryll. She was expecting her first child, and though she and her husband were poor, she never complained about anything. She'd befriended Ryll first out of the employees of the inn. "So Freya baked some cake for you. I helped decorate it."

They moved aside, and Ryll saw a chocolate cake with a wooden figurine stuck in the top. It was a rearing horse with a small girl sitting astride it, sword held aloft.

"Randall made the figure," Anna said, indicating the innkeeper. "It's you and Owl, ready to go into battle."

"That's so sweet." Ryll felt tears unexpectedly welling up in her eyes. It was a powerful revelation when she realized that she could find kindness in other places than Camelot. She'd been so distraught by her exile that she'd forgotten that other people could be kind. Not that Uther had shown her kindness, but Arthur, Merlin, and Morgana made up for his cruelty. "Thank you. All of you. I know I was an outsider when I first came here. I wasn't like other girls, but you accepted me nonetheless. It means so much to me that I can count you among my friends."

"You're just the most interesting girl who has ever come through here," Florence, the second maid, put in. "We didn't know what to make of you at first." Florence was fourteen and tended to speak her mind before thinking. Anna nudged her, but Ryll smiled.

"She's right," she said. "Not many women aspire to become knights."

"You'll be the first," Randall assured her. "We've seen you practicing with that husband of yours."

Ryll had almost forgotten that everyone thought she was married. "Oh, yes."

"Did he teach you how to fight or did you already know when you met him? Didn't you save his life?" Florence asked. She was always asking Ryll for details about Lancelot. She'd tried to keep her story consistent, giving vague details.

"No, I learned a long time ago. Maybe that's why we fell in love. We both had that in common."

"Why don't you wear a ring?"

"Florence, that's not your business," Anna scolded her.

"We couldn't afford rings when we married. I guess we didn't think them necessary. This cake looks delicious. Can we eat it?" Ryll changed the subject, and Freya began to cut the cake in slices with her knife.

Occasionally when they were in front of people, Ryll would take Lancelot's hand. They'd felt uncomfortable at first, always stiff and formal around each other in public, but as they grew as friends, they turned it into a game to see who was the better actor. Ryll had bested him once when she'd kissed him boldly in front of the girls at the inn. She'd apologized later, aghast that she'd done that just to prove something, but they'd ended up laughing it off when Lancelot declared her the best actor. She was always a little nervous when the subject of their 'marriage' came up. She felt like it was a betrayal to Merlin to act like she was betrothed to Lancelot, but Lancelot seemed to suspect that there was more between Merlin and Ryll than she would admit. He never pressed her for details, but always let her decide how much affection they should fake in public.

Ryll took comfort in their friendship because of the lack of expectations. They took care of each other and kept each other company, but there was never any expectation of anything else. Ryll had often wondered what would happen if she stopped faking and actually tried to see where their relationship could go, but it always seemed like that was something other girls would do. She knew if she told her friends the truth, they would wonder at why she didn't marry him. He was handsome, courteous, brave, and respected her more than anyone besides her friends in Camelot. She could see falling in love with him, but something held her back. Someone held her back, rather, and Lancelot respected that. She wasn't sure if he felt anything for her, but if he did, he didn't show it. He just showed his love for her as a friend. Ryll wondered if there was someone elsewhere that he had feelings for. He never spoke of anyone and yet Ryll got the distinctive feeling that she wasn't the only one who'd had to leave someone behind. She hadn't asked, not wanting to pry, but she hoped he'd open up to her one day. She supposed she hadn't opened up to him yet. She never talked about Merlin if she could help it. It was easier that way.

"Here's your piece, Ryll," Freya said, handing Ryll a chipped plate and a bent fork.

Ryll took a bite. "Delicious. Can I take some home for Lancelot?"

"Of course. And this is for you to keep." Freya mopped the chocolate off of the wooden figurine with her apron and handed it to Ryll.

"I love it," Ryll said. "I'll keep it with me always." She tucked it into the inside pocket of her jacket.

She stayed and chatted for over an hour, listening to the idle gossip and informing them in turn of her impending journey. She'd mentioned that she didn't have any living family, but she hadn't given details of her parents' demise. Now she simply told them that they had died when she was young and she hadn't been back to their graves in all those years.

"How sad," Anna said, putting a hand to her stomach, "to grow up with no parents. Your children will be blessed," she smiled at Ryll who blushed. She tried to ignore her hot cheeks and the giggle Florence tried to hide behind her hand.

"Right. Well, I'd best get home. I need to finish packing for tomorrow. Thank you again for the cake." She took the wrapped remains from the cook. "I'll be back in a fortnight," she told them, waving her goodbye.

…

They left before dawn as Ryll had suggested, leaving behind their cottage in the morning fog. They kept up a steady pace as they headed southwest, leaving Mercia behind and entering Camelot land. It felt strange to be back in the land, but it felt instantly like home to Ryll. They met with no one on their journey, avoiding villages and camping in the wilderness to avoid any questions. It was best that they go unnoticed.

By the seventh day of their journey, true to Ryll's prediction, they arrived at the border of Camelot and Caerleon. Ryll didn't know if Caerleon's king was on friendly terms with Uther, but they crossed the border without issue. The village was only a mile from the border, if Ryll remembered correctly. By the time the sun was beginning to sink in the sky, she saw the outline of Hithar on the horizon. They pressed their horses on until they found themselves at the edge of the village. It took Ryll's breath away.

Burnt buildings lay in ruin. The plant life had long ago taken over, growing in and around the timber, making many of the houses unreachable. They pushed their horses through the street at a walk, gazing around at the catastrophic damage that had taken everyone Ryll knew away from her. Then they reached her house. Ryll stopped, her vision suddenly blurry. Lancelot seemed far away as he asked if that was her house. All she could do was nod.

This was where her parents had died. It was now just a pile or rubble, nearly indistinguishable from the other houses. But Ryll knew this was it. They sat in silence for a moment before Ryll urged Owl on. "The graveyard is just ahead, away from the village a little," she told Lancelot, keeping her voice steady. They rode on until they reached a small metal fence. The gate was open, rusted in that position from years of disuse. They dismounted, tying their horses to the gate before entering the small graveyard. It was filled with stones bearing the names of all the dead.

"A blacksmith in the neighboring town made all of these," Ryll explained, motioning to the headstones. "He believed that the dead would forget who they were if they did not have their name above their graves. He also feared that the living would forget to remember the dead." She wove her way through the headstones, reading the names until she came to the two she remembered most.

Sir Thomas d'Andreli

Loving father and husband

Lady Violet d'Andreli

Loving mother and wife

"These are your parents?" Lancelot asked, coming up beside her.

Ryll just nodded. Tears were flowing down her cheeks now, and she let them fall. She felt Lancelot take her hand, and let him hold it, seeking comfort in the touch. "I didn't realize that was my surname," Ryll said. "All I knew was that my name was Amaryllis. My mother loved those flowers. She planted them in the garden every summer."

"I recognize that name," Lancelot said. "d'Andreli."

"What do you mean? And why does it say 'Sir' and 'Lady'? My parents weren't noble."

"Are you sure? How much do you really remember?" Lancelot asked, not unkindly.

Ryll frowned. "I remember being loved, but I don't remember much more. I remember how soft-spoken my mother was. She loved to work in her garden. My father had a deep, booming voice and read to me every night before bed. I remember always having food and comfort, but not being rich. They always shared with everyone in the village."

"I remember hearing about a family that was exiled from their land when Saxons attacked it. They were driven away from their home. Their name was d'Andreli. This happened when I was very young, but I remember hearing something about it when I was traveling. Some noblemen were speaking of what had happened, saying that it was becoming more common for the Saxons to take over a nobleman's land, driving the families out. They recalled that the d'Andreli family had been some of the first to be driven out."

"Are you saying my family could have been noble and then forced off their land? And they came here to live?"

"It's possible. It looks like you have noble blood in you after all. Uther owes you an apology."

Ryll had to laugh at that. "I'm sure he'd be begging for my forgiveness," she said wryly. "Anyway, we have no way of proving that."

"Yes we do, right here." Lancelot motioned to the two grave markers. "Your true name is Lady Amaryllis d'Andreli and as a noblewoman, you have a right to seek knighthood."