Chapter 12
[Nemethian Encampment, Three and a Half Leagues from Camelot—A Third of a Turn of the Hourglass Earlier]
Kay stalked about the temporary encampment. Unforeseen circumstances delayed Rodor and Taene back in Whitgate. Apology's scroll lay waiting for Uther in his saddlebag. Necessity prompted rare agreement between Mithian and him for haste. Breaks remained short and limited. Still, Exhaustion overwhelmed basic capabilities. Sir Galahad cannot train these knights for an overnight ride! What madness is this! Impatience stewed within him. "Sir Rodrigo!"
A slender man with shoulder-length dark hair and beard rushed up to him. "Aye, my Prince?" He bowed.
"Keep the knights on guard." Kay raised an eyebrow. "We are barely a turn of the hourglass from Camelot. We should have pressed on."
Logic guided Rodrigo to understand Kay's point. Still, he noted Hunger's and Exhaustion's needs for the knights. "The knights needed a rest, my Prince. We are deep in Camelot's territory. Surely, we are safe?"
Kay frowned. "We should be. King Meleagant is coming with his knights. Until we are inside of Camelot's walls, I will not feel safe. I want to press on soon." Instinct kept him on edge. Trust for security—even with the Knights of Camelot enforcing it—remained in short supply. "Let the Princess know."
Rodrigo bowed his head. "With respect, Sire, Princess Mithian and her maid…." He cleared his throat. "They're gone. Sirs Harold, Denis, Thibault and Guillaume went with them. She took her crossbow with her." He bit his lip.
"She did what?" Kay clenched his fists at his sides. Once more, Mithian's improper outlook stewed in his craw. Despite Rodor's instructions to the contrary, he'd told her firmly to remain within their numbers. Hunts or any such nonsense endangered Security's protocols. He'd expected her to rest, eat a meal and think on conversation topics for Lady Morgana and other women in Camelot's court.
Mithian, of course, rolled her eyes behind Kay's back. Rebellion's snort echoed throughout the camp. Barely a dozen heartbeats later, she and Britomart disappeared into the meadow. She'd drawn an entourage of the aforementioned knights with herself.
Can she *ever* follow common sense? No wonder no nobleman with any sense or protocol will commit to her! Kay's next draught from the water skin drowned potential curses or thoughts about his sister. He looked about the camp one more time. Eight knights remained on duty. Our forces are now split. I wish we were within sight of Camelot. This is madness! Mithian, you know better than this! Father told us to be careful even here! We cannot be lax!
"We can go after her, Prince Kay," Rodrigo volunteered.
"We have to. I would not deal with the King and Queen if something happens to her. We…." Kay's order stopped in mid-sentence. Thunder echoed down the road toward them. The ground shook. "Who would…?" He drew his sword. "KNIGHTS! TO ARMS!" He rushed toward the camp's center.
The knights jumped to their feet. Swords slid from their scabbards. Within a few heartbeats, everyone had flanked Kay. Blades stood ready for combat.
"STAND READY! HOLD!" Kay held his sword at the ready. Battles in Gaul and Germania had prepared him for most situations. He'd spent more time there than in Whitgate itself. In fact, Forte lent more to Ambassador than Governor or King. Still, Ambition lusted after Rodor's throne. Mithian's supplanting him in Rodor's eyes burned in his craw. Consequently, he welcomed this chance to burn through his rage.
Meleagant rode down on the encampment. "SURROUND THEM! LET NONE ESCAPE!" He watched his knights ring their counterparts and Kay completely in a line of metal and horses. Their swords pointed at the outnumbered Nemethians. He savored Triumph's quick stroke. A grin spread across his face.
"King Meleagant?" Kay nodded for Protocol's sake than anything else. Disbelief elicited a shake of his head. "What is the meaning of this? King Rodor is coming to negotiate with King Uther and you! We mean you no harm or disrespect!"
Meleagant sniggered. "Ever the naïve buffoon! Prince Kay, you are such a boy! No sentries or scouts? The Emperor Doun among others would pay me for your hide! Perhaps King Bors might do so to keep you alive? Maybe Uther? How much will your father pay?" Satisfaction and Avarice sparked in his eyes and face. "You are outnumbered at least three to one. My lieutenant, Reynald, will bring Princess Mithian back to me. My scouts, unlike yours, know where she and her maid are." He signaled for his knights to open the circle. Then he rode into it. "Surrender! Tell your knights to drop their swords! There is no escape for them or you. Your sister will be my Queen! I will demand that old fossil, Rodor, abdicate in my name!" He dismounted. "Do not test or tempt my blade, Prince!"
"Sire." Rodrigo looked at Swords' ring about them. Sharp points jabbed toward their numbers. Odds remained long. Perhaps, Galahad, Ywain, Prince Bors, Prince Accolon of Tintagel or their loyal lion stood at their side. Their blades or claws would sway the balance.
Kay curled his lip. "This is an outrage! We ride as diplomatic envoys! This is Camelot! We are all here with King Uther's permission!"
"Do you think I really care about such things?" Meleagant's laugh grated in Kay's (and Nemeth's knights') ears. "I used these negotiations to draw King Rodor out from behind Whitgate's walls. This worked out far better!" He raised his own blade. "Do not challenge me. I am trying to keep you alive and unspoiled, Prince! YIELD!"
Kay spat on the ground. "SO BE IT! DROP YOUR WEAPONS! WE WILL ACCEPT HIS TERMS! I VALUE YOUR SAFETY!" He threw down his sword.
The knights did the same. They raised their hands to show their acquiescence.
Meleagant sniffed. "All too easy." He held up his hand. "THEY ARE NOT WORTH KILLING! THEY WOULD BE USEFUL SERVANTS! TIE THEIR HANDS! THEN WE WILL WAIT FOR REYNALD!" He pulled a rope from his saddlebag. He kicked Kay to the ground. He yanked Kay's arms behind his back and bound them together. Then he looped the rope around the other's arms and waist. He stuffed a red cloth into Kay's mouth and tied it off in the back. "You have your uses." He shoved Kay against a nearby oak tree. "STAY, BOY!"
Kay stewed. Betrayal proved costly. Imagination drew up lurid images of Meleagant's intentions for Nemeth, Mithian and himself. He forced himself to remain stock still. Mask of State would not allow Fear's signs to bleed through. Mithian, for once, maybe that Amazon fetish will be worth something. Get away! Find help in Camelot!
Fate had plans for Mithian of a different sort it seemed…..
[Meadow—About a League Away]
Mithian stalked through the late afternoon woods. Sol beat down thin unseasonable fashion. Brush passed over her white riding top. Occasional branch scraped against her dark pants. She held her crossbow in a lowered position. Her quiver hung over her left hip.
The elements around herself cooperated with the endeavor. Clouds and approaching storm front held off. Breeze puffed in her face. All except the heat of course. A few knights chased out potential game…for simply observation in this case.
Observation…not an outright hunt….
Mother would complain about my exertion. Kay thinks I should just embroider my way to Camelot and be quiet. Mithian sniffed at those notions. I wish Father had received permission from King Uther to hunt on Camelot's lands. I would not cause a diplomatic situation for my needs alone. She squatted low in the brush.
Not even twenty yards ahead, a rather large buck stepped into the clearing. Antlers reached a good ways from his head. His eyes looked all around. His dark nose sniffed at the air. He stiffened. His eyes looked all about. Then he turned back. Majestic strides ate away the remaining distance between him and the preserving forest beyond.
Who did that? I am downwind and undercover! Mithian frowned. Irritation chafed at her. She looked about the area. She spied nothing out of the ordinary. Nobody is in line of sight. There is no scent or odor to set that deer off. What…? Something tapped on her arm. She jumped and turned.
Britomart crawled up beside her. "Milady, maybe we should head back toward the camp? Remember what the King said?" Caution kept her on high alert. Her sword remained close at hand. "The Cawdorians could be close by as well." She motioned toward the deer's escape point. "Something spooked that deer."
"I am aware of that, Britomart. Thank you." Mithian took a deep breath. She is only looking out for me. Remember that. "The camp is but a few hundred yards back there. There are a few knights with us." She pointed back toward the trees and road in back of them. "King Meleagant needs to negotiate with Father. He certainly would not try anything." She spied a hawk gliding through the blue backdrop overhead. "I would love that someday."
"We all would." Britomart watched the bird disappear back over the treetops. Despite her previous observation, she enjoyed these outings be they hunts (usually) or restrained nature watches (like at that point). "This meadow goes on for a ways to the east." She pointed over the waving grasses and blooming flowers toward Camelot's towers just scraping into view. "There it is. Just over those last trees."
"Aye." Mixed feelings churned in Mithian's gut at that point. Anticipation looked forward to visits with certain acquaintances such as Lady Morgana and others. Still, Camelot's policies burned at her. How can anyone simply hate magic or the Old Religion just because they are there? It is how they are practiced! She shook her head on that note. "I am sure they will offer a splendid display. Be wary. There is always something lurking underneath that cover." Her frown curled about the edges of her mouth. Then she spied someone ahead of them in the grasses. "Who is that?"
"He seems innocent enough." Britomart's hand shielded her eyes from Sol's intensity. "He's picking the flowers." She ran her hand through the flowers on either side of them. "These are medicinal herbs. Perhaps he is working for Master Gaius or another healer?"
"Perhaps. I wish to see for myself." Mithian got up and hustled toward the gatherer in question. Curiosity tugged at her. Perhaps Insight drew her in that direction? Alas, Gentle Reader, we can never tell….
"Milady!" Britomart winced. What is she doing? It is not like she has not seen a peasant or their like before in the forest! She whistled back toward the trailing knights. Then she took off after Mithian before the latter's rashness got them into trouble.
Chance meetings could stir certain things after all….