Chapter 4 [A Turn and a Quarter of the Hourglass Earlier]
[Training Yard]
[A/N: Taene is my original character. Other royals mentioned here are established in Arthurian lore and thus aren't mine.]
On Citadel's other side, a dark-haired young man strode out the door. A blue tunic and brown pants felt better than Court's robes. He drew his sword. "Heinrich! Wolfstan! Prepare! I want to sweat!" Rodor's court proceedings bored him. Disagreements with his parents over council policy wore on him. Court's Tedium numbed his mind and threatened to put him to sleep. Consternation stewed in his mind over the Camelot-Nemeth cold war. Broken negotiations for Mithian's hand with Tintagel aggravated him and many others further. He looked about the yard.
The yard stood empty….
"What now?" He threw his hands up in the air. His mind pressed toward Nemeth's borders. Mercia and Cawdor loomed to the northeast. Rodor's regal brainfarts distanced Nemeth from Camelot. Besides, Disaster nearly swamped the army during the last campaign. We should not rely on that *creature* for such matters! Why can we not have force of arms? Camelot does not use such things! He feinted at the air. For a substantial amount of Hourglass' flow, he stabbed and retreated. Martial Ballet guided his footwork. Arthur's tips and techniques refined his own skills. Prince Bors of Gaul, Prince Accolon of Tintagel and even the Emperor Doun. Uther's praise and critique meant a great deal. "How am I supposed to improve if nobody is here?" His blade struck over and over again at the chipped and abused post. Frustration burned hotter and hotter in his gut. His ears discerned the door's opening. He spun around to face the intruder.
A heavy-set man bowed to him. "Prince Kay, pardon me." His throat cleared. His beard brushed his robe. Disgust narrowed his eyes. "They are all out front."
"Out front? Why? The knights need training! We almost lost the field the last time." Kay ground his teeth. "I really need to speak with the King and Sir Galahad about that!" He sheathed his sword. "Thank you, Lord Wulfstan. I wish the King would understand! We have priorities."
"Of course, my Prince." Wulfstan mused over his last discussion with the other counselors. Lords Aethelred and Bernard stewed over Rodor's disregard for the law. Discontent simmered within their hearts. Debates raged in the Council's meetings. Chauvinism chafed at Taene's participation at the table. Mithian's observation ate at them. "The Queen and Princess influence him."
"Of course they do!" Outrage flared in Kay's eyes. "They should be working on tapestries or minding some other affair! We should be governing! My father is so sotted over Mother, he allows her more than he should! He is doing the same thing with Mithian!" Terse breath hissed through his teeth. "Where are those knights?"
"The Princess is on schedule if nothing else." Wulfstan stifled a cough with his mouth.
"What? The treasury is at a deficit! She insists on that? AGAIN?" Kay ground his teeth. "Let the peasants suffer already!" He stalked out of the yard and toward the stairs.
Wulfstan shook his head. Perhaps one day, Prince Kay will become King. We can hope for such miracles. Then this current madness will cease! He scurried back into Citadel's twists and turns. Plaza's display? He had no reason to watch that to be honest….
[Just Inside of the Citadel's Main Doors—A Quarter of an Hourglass Later]
Kay's steps through Citadel's passages failed to compose him. Mithian's mindset flummoxed him to say the least. Beauty, Intelligence and Warmth attracted potential suitors. Crude behavior, however, rolled eyes. Her hunting skill demeaned many male egos. Then, her potential place on the Royal Council killed interest altogether. Can't she just act like a normal girl FOR ONCE? He ground his teeth.
Castellans scattered to get out of the way. Reputation and Experience preceded Kay's temper. Priority quickly found other places to be…different things to do. Anything and anywhere else but there. Anticipation also deduced Debasement's barbs for Mithian. Instructions prompted for Intervention. A few rushed toward the Throne Chamber itself.
Kay stood in the doorway. He watched Mithian drag one large wicker basket down to the crowd's edge. What are you fools doing? You are letting her do that? He leaned against the door frame. His eyes smoldered at the hungry onlookers in the plaza itself. At least the mob shrinks. Perhaps they learn their place? One can hope! Incredulity stiffened him. "Mithian, do not…! You…" He rubbed his forehead. Despite Galahad and Malodius remaining close at hand, Red Flags popped up in his mind. "She's actually hugging and talking to them? What is she…?" He bowed his head. "This is supposed to be for wedding days not monthly!"
The knights followed Mithian, Britomart and Malodius back up the stairs and inside once again.
Relief and Exasperation fumed in Kay's head. He concealed himself in Shadows' darkness. He watched Mithian stumble through the doors. Maybe she might understand how hopeless her bleeding-heart displays truly are?
"So many hungry." Mithian rubbed her forehead. Frustration evaporated Euphoria's smile and outlook on her face.
"Still trying to bribe the hearts and minds for your hunts, Sister?" He stepped into view. Disdain glowered in his eyes. Dismissal puffed through his nostrils. Dark curls brushed against his shoulders. "Perhaps a new dress instead?"
Britomart bit back her desired response. She curtseyed. "Milady, these baskets need to be taken back to the kitchen. Might I do so?"
"Please do, Britomart. Thank you for your assistance out there." Mithian nodded to her. Then she wheeled around on him. "More trinkets and sparring, Prince Kay? I have enough gowns and a few jewels. Without our subjects, we are nothing."
"Without a husband, you are nothing, Mithian." His laughter echoed off the granite passages. "You cannot inherit without one. Do you think that rabble will help you?" He pointed toward the door. "My sparring enables me to do what I am supposed to do. Fight, rule and be strong. You should be working with tapestries, receiving courtiers and preparing to raise future children."
Mithian's blood boiled. She clenched her fists at her sides. Rodor's advice about 'walls having ears' echoed back in her mind. She regarded Galahad, Ywain and the other knights just within earshot whether next to them or just outside. "I am doing what I am supposed to be doing. I am seeing after our people! I could say more but I will not out here." A deep breath composed her once again.
"A wise move indeed." A tall blonde-haired woman shuffled toward Mithian and Kay. Her blue eyes sized up the entire scene. Her emerald gown glided just over her shoe tops. "Princess Mithian is very well aware of her responsibilities, Prince Kay. Did you watch her out there?"
"Mother." Kay bowed to her. He averted his eyes. He bit back further comments. "I saw her playing to the mob. I worked on my skills before our departure tomorrow."
Queen Taene curled her lip. "You forget yourself. They are our subjects not simply a 'mob'. Besides, our responsibilities lay with the people. Diplomacy and military skill are necessary. They exist, however, within a balance. We missed you during the council meeting. The King could have used your insight." She pointed toward Mithian. "Princess Mithian, when prompted, thought of something overlooked by everyone else. She studies our laws. She looks to King Rodor for direction. I would rather see such balance in both of you." She shook her head. "King Rodor and I wish to speak with you both. You may wash and prepare for our family discussion. I wish to speak with Princess Mithian now."
Dismissal now stung at Kay's pride. Still, he bowed again and turned. Father allows Mother too much authority. She should not encourage Mithian. King Uther would not allow that! He stalked away. Taene's reference to "our laws" ate at him. Why can Mother and Father not understand that we cannot simply give everything away? He stopped in front of a eastern-facing window. His mind pined for Camelot. Relevancy and Prestige radiated from their neighbor across the Severn. They have a greater army. King Uther has brought order. Meantime, Father cannot even see past the end of his chamber. The lords know why I was not wasting time in that meeting. I could care less about the sorcerers! Let them burn. Then he vanished around a corner.
"I am sorry, Mother. I do not mean to make a scene here in the open." Mithian nodded to Taene. "I wish to stand up for our subjects." Red streaked her cheeks. "I tried to keep my voice low and even."
Taene rubbed her chin. "I watched you both. You lectured him about our subjects. That is something the King and I do not mind raising your voice over. After you made your point, you resumed a polite tone. Words are one thing. Setting an example is another. Come with me." She guided Mithian toward the door.
Mithian wiped her face with her hand. "It is so hard to watch them, Mother. I would give more if we could do so. There was a man and a boy down there just now and…." She composed herself and looked about the area. "There they are! The boy's name is Henry. I left some venison in their village a few weeks ago. It made a difference."
"I am sure it did." Approval lit up in Taene's face. "As long as you have adequate protection, Mithian, the King and I support your gifts. How I wish we had magic." Lament dampened her outlook. "I'd feed them all." Her eyes alighted on Henry and his elder companion. A nod bobbed her head up and down. "Three baskets of bread are a considerable boon to the crowd. That and your hunts show that you care. I heard Kay's insult. This means more than a mere gown." She embraced her daughter.
"What if Kay's right, Mother?" Mithian bit her lip. "What if I'm doomed to be a spinster? The laws say I cannot inherit alone." Dread chilled her heart.
"Have faith." Taene shook her head. Hope sparkled in her eyes. A smile broke through Mood's overcast. "You are Princess Mithian of Nemeth. Pay no heed to those past failings. They did not respect you. Consider Prince Accolon. Despite King Ruthbert's issues with your father, Prince Accolon still values you as a friend. Does he not?" Memoria prompted past images into her mind's eye. "Your birth was a sign. Lady Reyna has predicted great things for you. Even our long-lost knight and Dragon Lord thought so."
"Dragon Lord?" Mithian raised her eyebrow. "You mean Sir Balinor?" Her mind spun with stories and the Hall of Heroes beneath their feet. "I thought he'd been gone for years."
"He has been. Still, Mithian, he left to protect us. Sir Balinor put those he loves first. It is a pity. Still, he may one day return." Taene gazed upon the eastern tree line. "Perhaps he found his beloved again? I hope the goddess was kind in that regard."
Mithian's hand stifled a cough. "Maybe he had a son? The people need a hero. I know our knights are good and sound. Malodius is a constant example." She glanced back at the lion in question who watched in the doorway. "I know you are there." Gratitude and Mirth sparkled in her eyes toward him.
"We have what she believes we need. Still, a son of Sir Balinor would be considerable indeed!" Taene mused over that point. "Perhaps there is such a young man out there. One can never tell. The King awaits us." She turned and walked back toward the door. "Thank you, my Friend." She patted Malodius' head.
Malodius purred. He bowed to Queen and Princess even as they passed.
"Keep good watch!" Mithian waved to him. Then she followed Taene's lead into Citadel's passage.
Perspectives may vary. Hope sowed its crop….