Matilda picked up two lengths of blue ribbon and held them at arm's length in front of her.
'Now, which one?' she asked Iola, who knocked another arrow and aimed it at a straw target.
The two of them were sat on a lawn outside the keep. The sun had warmed the grass enough, making it pleasant to sit out. The Queen liked for her ladies to have a basic knowledge of sword craft and archery. Iola found archery more to her taste, and Matilda found none of it pleased her, so she used the time to catch up on her reading or other pursuits.
Iola paused to glance over. 'The blue one?'
'Well, one is a dark blue and the other a lighter shade,' Matilda said, trying not to sound too exasperated. 'Perhaps you are right, the darker blue is more regal.'
With a thud Iola's arrow landed a few inches short of the bullseye. 'Blast,' she muttered. 'If I don't practice for a week, my arrows never aim as true.'
'But the light blue heralds spring. It might be more appropriate for this festival,' Matilda murmured.
'I'm not sure how much more I can hear about ribbon,' Iola said. 'Or candles, or boughs of juniper and ivy, or flower crowns. Can you pick the light blue and spare me another day of this talk?'
'The light blue then!' Matilda said cheerily. 'It was what I wanted anyway. What did you want to speak about? Who is going to dance with you first, or whether Gareth will work up the nerve to ask you this year?'
A proper flush stained Iola's cheeks. 'You know it will be Rhys and I leading the dancing,' she said, placing her bow down on a nearby table. 'Here,' she said, reaching into her skirts. Iola produced a crumpled letter, the seal on it well broken.
'Oh!' Matilda said, jumping up to pluck the thick vellum out of her hand. 'Rhys kept his promise.'
'For all his faults he is rather loyal.' Iola was unbuckling her leather arm guard as she leaned over. 'Is it truly from your father?'
'His steward,' Matilda replied hurriedly. Her hands shook, blurring the words. She only had the opportunity to read the first line before they were interrupted.
'Arms raised!' Came a voice from behind her.
Stuffing the letter into a bag at her belt, Matilda slowly raised her hands, bending her head.
'Now, very slowly, turn around.'
Cowering, Matilda did as she was told.
'I have half a mind to stab you right through the heart.'
The five year old girl pointing the wooden sword at Matilda stalked closer.
'No, please!' Matilda clapped her hands together in an exaggerated plea. 'You should show your people mercy!'
'I don't show mercy to pirates!' cried the girl, lunging forward.
Matilda ducked to the side, reaching for one of her knitting needles from the pile of her things. Whirling around, she clacked the metal needle against the wooden sword. The girl parried her and soon the two were engaged in a full blown mock sword fight.
'Surrender!' The little girl lunged forward.
'Never!' yelped Matilda. She also sprang forward, lodging the play sword between her arm and ribcage. Throwing the back of her hand to her forehead, she stumbled back to die dramatically on the lawn.
The little girl giggled triumphantly.
'Oh you've done it now,' Iola chided. 'I suppose we'll have to weave dandelions in our hair for the celebrations.'
Matilda cracked one eye open, 'You wouldn't dare.'
'See! I told you she wasn't dead!' The little girl pointed to Matilda.
'Oh but now I've got your sword,' Matilda raised the little toy up high, 'and I've sworn vengeance!'
The girl turned tail to run, but Matilda was faster, grabbing her up under her arms and spinning her around in a wide circle. The girl squealed in delight.
'I see archery practice is going well.'
Dropping the girl back to her feet. Matilda curtseyed to the High Queen, a little dizzy.
'Apologies, Majesty, if I'd seen you coming I would have-'
'What?' the Queen asked, nodding to the piles of ribbon and knitting. 'Pretended you were practicing this whole time?'
Matilda's throat went dry. 'Well yes… I mean no, of course-'
The High Queen laughed, picking up Iola's discarded bow. She knocked an arrow deftly and pointed it to the stack of hay. In a moment she'd embedded it straight through the large red circle.
'Keep your chin up,' she told Iola. 'Your fingers should come right to the edge of your lips.'
Iola sighed, 'I'll never miss practice for a week again.'
The High Queen smoothed a loving hand over her daughter's dark hair. 'And Angharad,' she said, turning to the golden haired little girl, tugging on a loose section of braid, 'has already mastered swordplay! By this time next year you'll be leading the armies of Prydain!'
Little Angharad puffed out her chest and grinned a gap-toothed smile. She reached for the wooden sword and swung it in a long arc toward her nursemaid.
'I was hoping we might speak,' the High Queen said to Matilda.
Matilda nodded, wondering if she was going to get an earful about the importance of knowing how to defend oneself, or if she was going to be asked about her and Rhys galloping into the keep looking so disheveled. She bristled at the memory, brushing a few blades of grass off her skirts.
The Queen turned toward the walls of Caer Dathyl, leaving Iola, Angharad, and the nursemaid to play pirates. Matilda clasped her hands in front of her and walked beside the Queen.
'I know now it hasn't escaped your notice that your father has written.' The Queen gestured to the letter that was protruding from the leather satchel.
'I did not have the chance to read it,' Matilda answer truthfully, handing it back to the Queen.
The Queen paused for a moment, taking the vellum and toying with it.
'Your father has actually asked for an extension on the terms of your ransom.'
It felt like the air had been punched out of her lungs. Matilda swallowed, turning her eyes toward the stone walls.
'His reason?' she muttered, folding her arms across the chest, as if she could protect herself from more bad news.
'He is currently dealing with a famine and some uprisings in his own kingdom,' the Queen replied. 'Apparently the neighbouring countries of ours might have a war. It would not be safe for you to return.'
Matilda resumed walking, angrily brushing a tear away from her cheek.
'I know this news is difficult to hear.' The Queen's voice was soft. 'But in a way I am selfishly happy. You know... you must know that you have become a part of this family. Iola looks up to you, and so does Angharad. You have been such a good influence on Owain, and Rhys-' Matilda scoffed at that, 'in his own way of course.'
'I… it is considerate of you to say that,' Matilda replied after sucking in a shaky breath. 'And you and the King have been so kind to me. You know I adore Iola and Angharad. But I was… I feel as though I'm ready to take my place in my father's house. I know where I belong, but not being able to be there, it's…'
'Ah, somewhat like wearing a hat that doesn't quite fit your head?' the Queen said with a wry smile. 'I know that feeling better than you can imagine.'
'Really?'
'Oh yes, there was a time in my youth when I was sent away from somewhere I thought I belonged. When I returned I realized that where I thought I belonged wasn't a place at all, but rather a person.'
'The King?'
'Yes, and the woman I was growing into.' The Queen brushed aside a stray lock of hair from her cheek. Matilda welcomed it, pressing the back of her sleeve under her eye, catching another few tears.
'Thank you,' Matilda whispered.
'Believe me when I say that two years with you still won't be long enough.'
Matilda managed a smile. The Queen wrapped an arm around her shoulders, turning them back in the direction of the companions. 'And a word of advice. When engaged in battle with a rapscallion, do not try to fight fair. A swift kick to the shins, a stamp on the foot does more damage than you think.'
Matilda burst out into laughter. 'The women in my country do not fight, I'll have no need to apply that wisdom, I'm sure.'
The Queen shrugged, 'Perhaps useful to use on a certain stable hand when he tries to drag you out on his horse again.' She shook her head, 'Please use as much force as necessary.'
Rhys was peeling a blister the size of a coin off his palm when Owain came running into the stables. A few horses wickered a greeting.
'Come see!' he shouted.
'What?' Rhys was annoyed. He was tired. His back was aching. 'There are still five stalls to finish.'
'The stalls can wait,' Owain was speaking in that breathless way he did whenever he uncovered a particularly interesting thing.
'It had better be good,' Rhys grumbled. He'd hardly finished speaking and Owain was already running out of the stables and into the courtyard. Rhys leaned the pitchfork on a wall and followed him.
Rhys correctly guessed that his brother was holed up in the keep's library. The large room was filled with scrolls and leather bound books of every shape and size. There was parchment strewn across a table in the middle of the room. The Book of Three was open, the huge tome took up the better part of the tabletop.
'It makes so much sense, I can't believe we didn't see it before,' Owain said.
Rhys looked down at the heavy book. The page was open to a map of all Prydain. 'You've brought me here for a geography lesson, have you?'
'Well actually, that is half right!' Owain placed the pendant face up in the corner of the map.
'Do you see it?' he asked.
'No,' Rhys answered, his patience thinning. 'If I don't finish mucking out, our father is-'
'It's a map,' Owain burst out.
'A map?' Rhys repeated.
'Yes look,' Owain pointed back and forth between the pendant to the miniature of Prydain. 'Each jewel corresponds to a waypoint. The sapphire here, that's somewhere on Mona, the Ruby is Caer Dathyl, and the emerald is over here... Marshes of Morva... for some reason.'
'What's this one?' Rhys asked, pointing to the diamond. It was embedded close to Caer Dathyl's ruby.
'I was just getting to that,' Owain explained, flipping over the pendant. 'You see this word here? The word we couldn't puzzle out?'
'Just tell me Owain!' Rhys shouted.
'Caledfwlch.'
'What did you say?'
'Caledfwlch, the legendary sword. Caliburn.'
Rhys snorted. 'The sword in the stone? A bedtime.'
'The location of it has been lost to history. A good thing to- it was said that whoever pulled the sword would have-'
'Powers beyond their wildest dreams.' Gareth came to stand beside Owain, looking down at the book.
'How long have you been there for?' asked Rhys.
'Long enough,' replied Gareth.
'It is written in the book that the Dark Lord Annuvin went searching for it, but by then it was believed to have disappeared. Its place in Prydain has remained a secret. A secret until now at least.'
Rhys drew a finger along the map. The diamond corresponded to the middle of Eagle Mountains.
'How do we know this isn't just another ancient Caer?'
'Because!' Owain shouted. He couldn't get the words out fast enough. 'When Prydain was founded after Arawan was defeated, King Belin plunged his sword into stone, vowing it would never be used again unless Prydain was in danger.'
'That would have been a hefty prize for the Dark Lord,' Gareth commented. 'Arawan would have found it and wielded it. Nothing was secret to him.'
'Well, apparently it has been well hidden. And well-protected. The seeker of the sword-' Owain flipped through the pages of the Book of Three until his finger came to rest on an illustration of a jewelled sword hilt '- must pass three trials to acquire it.'
'Trials?' Rhys asked.
'Only those true of heart may seek Caledfwlch,' Owain read. 'To prove himself worthy he must pass through trials of strength, cunning, and spirit.'
'And what are the trials?' Rhys asked.
Owain rolled his eyes. 'If they told us that then everyone would have tried to find the sword by now.'
'So what were those men doing in Prydain, a foreign land to them, with a map leading them to a legendary sword?' Gareth drummed his fingers on the table as he thought out loud.
'Indeed.' Rhys rubbed a hand along his jaw. 'Father insisted no magic remains in Prydain after the Sons of Don left. There would be no reason to seek the blade now.'
'Unless there is still magic,' Owain said, his voice a little wistful.
Rhys thought about the five stalls that needed mucking, the councils that needed attending, the scoldings, the lines around his father's eyes as he looked at him with disappointment.
'Who would want a legendary Pryderi sword ending up in the hands of a foreigner?' Rhys said. 'The Eagle Mountains are a two day's ride from here.'
Gareth's eyes met Rhys'. 'Would maybe take a week?'
Rhys felt a familiar excitement rush through his limbs, energizing his aching muscles. He'd been keen to get out from underneath his father's thumb for a while, and Caer Dathyl's walls were feeling rather small these days.
'Melynwyn could use the exercise,' Rhys said. 'The night of the festival should give us enough time to make a break for it.'
'I'm coming too,' Owain declared. He brandished a small, leather bound volume. 'I've been keeping notes on the sword-lore here. You'll never find it without me.'
Rhys smiled. 'Are you sure you could leave your beloved books?'
Owain's cheeks coloured. 'I'm also the prince of the High King!' he shot back. 'I can ride and wield a sword as well as you.'
Gareth clapped him on the back. 'And so you shall complete our little company.'
'Good, ready yourselves in three day's time. We ride out during the revelry. Tell no one.'
Both Gareth and Owain nodded in agreement. Satisfied and with renewed vigour, Rhys strode out of the library. He was so full of plans for their journey, he did not notice the figure hiding behind a tapestry.
