by J A Cummings
Merlin arrived with Lionors. “Caden. Cavall. Get down.” The puppies immediately obeyed him, and the druid bent to examine Kay’s injury. “Swelling from hanging down.”
Ulfius nodded. “Told you.”
“I want you to elevate it above the level of your heart, and I will wrap it tightly to press the fluid away. To your bed, Sir Kay.” He grasped Kay’s hand and hauled him to his feet with shocking ease.
“The rooms are above the hall, at the top of those stairs,” Arthur said.
Merlin nodded and hauled a grumbling Kay away. Lionors cast Arthur a smile as she passed him, following the two men to the waiting stairs. He smiled back. One of the dogs followed her, but the one called Cavall stayed at Arthur’s heels. He bent and scratched the animal’s ear and was rewarded with vigorous tail-wagging.
Griflet smiled. “Looks as if you have a dog after all.”
“So it seems.” He turned to him. “Chamberlain.”
“What?”
“I’m making you my chamberlain, since you’re acting in that respect already.”
“How can I be a chamberlain? I’m not even a knight!”
Arthur shrugged. “Well, I can change that easily enough.”
Griflet flushed, pleased, but offered one last weak protest. “I thought Merlin was your chamberlain.”
“He has other duties.” He looked around and saw two of Bedivere’s knights, Sir Meliot y Graig and his brother, Sir Mariet. He beckoned the two knights from Viroconium to his side.
“Your Majesty?” the eldest of them, Sir Meliot, said.
“I want you to witness this.” He drew his sword, and the two men looked alarmed until the king spoke again. “Kneel, Griflet. I apologize for the lack of pomp.”
“No pomp necessary, sir.” He knelt at his king’s feet.
Arthur repeated the words he had heard once before. “Do you swear, Griflet of Viroconium, to always be loyal to me as your lord and to render me service when you are called upon to do so?”
Griflet nodded. “I do so swear.”
He hesitated over the next oath and adjusted it according to his own philosophy. “Do you swear, Griflet of Viroconium, to always be faithful to the gods, whether pagan or Christian, and to pray every day?”
“I do so swear.”
“And do you swear, Griflet of Viroconium, to never avoid a perilous path out of fear, and to never fly from a challenge to honorable combat?”
“I do so swear.”
“And do you swear to pursue glory and honor in the name of your lord and your God or gods from this day forward, seeking always to improve your skills and your station?”
“I do so swear.”
Arthur looked up at the two brothers and said, “And who sponsors this man to knighthood?”
Sir Mariet responded, catching the hint with admirable speed. Griflet was nephew to their liege lord Bedivere, so it was an easy promise to make. “My brother and I sponsor him.”
“Do you swear to vouchsafe the behavior and honor of this man you sponsor, and to defend his honor and to have him defend yours?”
The two knights answered together. “We do so swear.”
Arthur hesitated again. “I have no spurs or sword to give you just now, but I’ll correct that oversight at the first opportunity. In the meantime, the accolade.” He struck the flat side of his sword against Griflet’s cheek. “You will never again suffer any blow without returning it with a stronger one.” He tapped the sword once on each shoulder. “Rise, Sir Griflet.” He turned to the brothers. “I am naming him my chamberlain. Please be witness and confirm.”
“We do witness and confirm your ruling, my lord,” Sir Mariet nodded. “Congratulations, Sir Griflet.”
“Bring me a sword, a sword belt and spurs.” Sir Meliot hurried off to do his bidding and returned only a few moments later with the objects Arthur had requested. The king buckled the sword belt about Griflet’s waist and then bent to attach the spurs to his new knight’s boots. “Take this sword and use it always in defense of the defenseless. Take these spurs as a token of your new status as a knight, so that you may always ride swiftly to the place you’re needed most. May you always be brave and strong and true.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty. I pledge all I am to you.”
Arthur smiled. “I know.”
Meliot and Mariet shook Griflet’s hand. “Shall we spread the news, sir?” Mariet asked.
“By all means.”
They turned as one to do the king’s bidding, and Griflet smiled. “So… as your chamberlain, I guess I’ll see to it that your belongings are put upstairs in your billet.”
“Thank you.” He embraced his new knight briefly. “You deserve a grander knighthood ceremony, but time…”
“I know. And I don’t like a big fuss, anyway. Your say-so is good enough for me.” He hugged Arthur back. “Now that I’m more than a squire, I’m going to be even mouthier.”
“Is that even possible?” He stepped back. “Off you go.”
Griflet took charge of the king’s baggage, and the king himself left the great hall to see to his army.
Morgana sat in the broch, her hand on her swollen belly, feeling the creature within her turning in her womb. If hate alone could kill a child, she would have miscarried already. By the hearth, her sister labored over a cauldron, cooking the latest in a long series of potions taken from her book of magic. They were spending their time in the Orkneys learning more about sorcery and preparing for the battles to come, and though it was a valuable education, she was bored stiff with it already.
She missed Ganile more than she cared to admit. Her Saxon lover still haunted her bleak night-time thoughts, but all things, she supposed, were destined to end. At least she had not come out of their assignation empty handed. She had used the black book and thereby gained her master, Murduus, and all of the power he had provided. In retrospect, it was a good trade.
Morgause straightened. “Are you ready?”
Morgana went to her side. “What is this meant to do?”
“It opens a door to the land of the fey.” She held the last ingredient in her hand, the skin of a black rat. “Prepare.”
She cast the skin into the pot, and a flash of brilliant green light filled the room, dazzling both women. When their vision cleared, they saw a shimmering circle in the middle of the room that stood like an open door, and within that shimmer was a vision of another land.
Morgause squealed in delight and clapped her hands. “It worked!”
Morgana went to the circle and put her hand against it. Her careful touch extended through as if she was submerging her hand in a pond, and on the other side, the felt air much warmer than that inside the broch. She withdrew her hand, and an otherworldly scent of peat and rain came with it. She stared in wonder and pushed her hand through the portal again.
“Amazing,” she breathed. “Can we travel through?”
“You’re pregnant,” Morgause reminded her, as if Morgana could have forgotten. “And I have my little boy here. If we travel through, we may not be able to return. It’s not worth the risk.”
She considered her actions for less than a heartbeat. With a grin, she stepped through the portal and into the world beyond.
Morgana took three steps from the portal and looked around in wonder. She had never seen colors like the ones that surrounded her. They were saturated, but darkly so, as if the purest colors had been suffused with darkness that was more spiritual than physical. She took a careful step forward, and the ground sucked at her feet like a bog. The air was wet and warm.
Morgana turned around and saw the portal still shimmering behind her. Morgause was standing in the middle of the broch, anger and concern warring for pride of place in her expression. Morgana giggled and turned back to the strange world she had entered, and her eyes fell upon a delicate white flower the likes of which she had never seen before. She bent and plucked it, then turned and went back through the portal to the Orkneys.
Morgau
se grabbed her as soon as she reappeared and pushed her away from the portal. “What is the matter with you?” she exclaimed. “You could have been killed.”
“But I wasn’t,” Morgana countered. “And look what I have.”
She gave the flower to her sister, and Morgause examined it closely. “This is full of magic. It’s powerful.” She went to the mantel and a glass jar that stood there. She emptied it of the herbs it held and replaced them with the flower, then closed the lid. The flower glowed, and the light that it emitted pulsated as they watched.
The portal flickered, and with a sound almost like a sigh, it disappeared.
“The spell worked,” Morgana said triumphantly. “Now we just need to find a way to make it permanent.”
Morgause shook her head and looked into the cauldron. All of the potion had been consumed by the spell, and the vessel was bone dry. “You take too many chances.”
“Fortune favors the bold.”
“So they say.”
A wind blew through the chamber, and it carried a hint of sulfur, the herald of the demon Murduus. He appeared beside the hearth, an infernally beautiful man wrapped in a black cloak made of stitched-together human skins. He smiled.
“So you have found an entry to the Fey Lands,” he said. “And it connected you with the Unseelie Kingdom. Well done.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Morgana said, kneeling. Morgause stayed on her feet.
The demon looked at the Queen of Lothian. “Have you nothing to say?”
She lifted her chin. “I do not serve you, demon.”
He laughed. “Then where does your power come from, little witch?”
“From a source more powerful than you.”
Their eyes met, the queen and the demon staring at one another, each daring the other to blink. Murduus laughed again. “You are a courageous thing, I will say that.”
He turned and walked to where Morgana was kneeling, and he put his hand on her face, stroking her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “You can learn much from the Unseelie, my dear, and I want you to do so. I want you to go to them and learn everything that they can teach you. Then, when you have finished, I want you to come back and open a portal so that I and my army can pay them a long-overdue visit. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master.”
“But do not go until that child is born and you have sacrificed him on my altar.”
“Of course.”
He looked at Morgause. “I could give you much power in return for your service.”
“I told you. I do not serve you, and I never will.” She crossed her arms. “My power comes from the Goddess Cailleach, not from some second-rate demon who feeds his servant second-hand magic like a baby bird.”
Murduus’s eyes flashed red for a moment, and then he forced a smile. “If I am a second-rate demon, you are a second-rate queen.”
“Only for now.”
“Only forever.” He turned away. “I will return when the child is born. Until then, stay in this dimension, Morgana. I will not be denied that soul.”
He vanished in a yellow haze, and sulfur drifted to the floor in his wake, falling like snow. Morgana swept it up and put it in the fire, where it burned bright blue. She looked up at her sister. “He’s become more powerful since I freed him from the Pit. You shouldn’t antagonize him.”
Morgause snorted. “He shouldn’t antagonize me.”
Merlin and Lionors arranged Kay on his bed with his foot propped up on pillows and folded blankets. The druid wrapped his ankle as he said he would, and Kay grimaced at the discomfort.
“Does it have to be so tight?” he complained.
“Yes.”
Lionors put Caden on the bed and the puppy snuggled up under his master’s arm. She rolled up her cloak and slipped it into the pile of bed clothes, raising his ankle a bit higher. Merlin straightened from his task.
“I will leave you in Lionors’ capable hands,” he said, smiling at her. “I trust you can contain him if he tries to get out of bed?”
She nodded. “I have my ways.”
“Good.” He turned back to Kay and said, “Rest up. Tomorrow will be another long, hard ride.” Merlin left the room and closed the door behind him.
Lionors waited a decorous moment, then lay down at Kay’s side, tucking herself in under his other arm. He hesitated, surprised, then pulled her in. She rested her head on his chest.
“You must think me very forward,” she said.
“Well,” he demurred, “I know you’re not like other ladies I might have met before.”
“Nicely dodged,” she teased.
“I do my best.”
She took a breath, then said, “I know that my participation in the Great Rite troubles you. What must I do to have you forgive me?”
He looked down at her in surprise. “Forgive? It’s not for me to forgive you or not to forgive you. What’s done is done.”
“You think I’m a whore.”
Kay straightened, dislodging both Lionors and Caden. He looked into her eyes. “I most certainly do not. I don’t understand your faith, and I don’t agree with its expression. I’ve thought about it a great deal, and I know that in your religion, you were given a great honor. I’m… trying to be all right with that.”
She looked away. “But you would prefer to court a virgin.”
He sighed. “I prefer to court you.” When Lionors looked up at him again, he said, “You don’t understand how difficult it’s been to be his brother. In all ways and in everything, even though I’m older, I’ve always been in his shadow. He’s better than me at everything he does. I…”
Lionors sat up and kissed him gently. He fell into stunned silence. When she pulled back, she whispered, “I would never compare you to him that way. Never.”
“You will,” he said. “And I will always be lacking.”
“I don’t believe that. You don’t realize how much your shadow falls over other men. It’s natural that the king should outshine everyone else. Don’t be so preoccupied with his glory that you fail to see your own.”
He snorted. “I have no glory.”
“Yes, you do. You’re the youngest knight here, other than Arthur, and you fought better than all of them in Londinium, even though you were wounded. You slew the enemy and you were never unhorsed. Your brother can’t say that much. He had to fight on foot like a commoner.”
Kay smiled at her words. “Well…”
“It’s true. You impressed all of the knights and soldiers in that battle. I heard them talk afterward. ‘Kay the Strong’, they call you.” She touched his face. “You’re important and impressive in your own right.”
He leaned forward and kissed her again, and she melted against him. “You make me believe that I am.”
“Never doubt it.”
He lay back down and wrapped his arm around her, holding her close. Caden curled up against his hip and lay down with a sigh. Kay stroked Lionors’ arm, a besotted grin on his face. Things were almost perfect.
Arthur visited with his soldiers for hours, checking that they all had survived the march relatively unscathed and were fed and resting. They seemed surprised by his arrival in the camp, and even more so by his insistence on learning their names. Sir Brastias followed along behind him, a secret smile on his face.
Darkness fell and Griflet came to the camp to roust him out for dinner. “The cook has finished the food, and nobody can eat until you’re seated,” he complained. “Hurry up. We’re hungry.”
Arthur chuckled. “My apologies, Sir Griflet.”
Brastias raised an eyebrow. “Sir?”
“I knighted him this afternoon. He’s now my chamberlain.”
Griflet smiled proudly and the older knight clasped his arm. Brastias smiled. “Congratulations, young man.”
“Thank you.” Griflet turned back to the king. “Now hurry up. You’re keeping everybody waiting.”
They followed Griflet back to the great hall, and Brastias asked Arthur, “Are
you going to let him keep talking to you like that? You’re his king.”
He nodded. “I want someone near me who isn’t overawed by the crown. I want someone who will treat me for who I am, not what I am.”
“But -” Brastias sighed and let it go. “As you wish.”
The hall was filled with trestle tables and benches, and the knights were all assembled and waiting. Arthur went to his seat beneath Uther’s portrait, wincing a bit as the wound in his abdomen reminded him that it was there.
“My apologies,” he said. “Please, eat.”
Dinner was well cooked and tasted wonderful on an empty stomach, and Arthur and his companions ate with gusto. At a nearby table, Kay and Lionors were sitting together, their eyes only for each other. He smiled to see his brother so happy.
When the last of the meal was being cleared away, he rose and said, “I have a happy announcement.” All eyes turned to him. “Today, I awarded a knighthood to my squire. Sir Griflet has also been appointed as my chamberlain.”
There was a smattering of applause, but Arthur noticed that some of the men exchanged wry and knowing glances. He glanced at Griflet, who was beaming happily, and then at the pleasantly surprised Sir Bedivere. They either failed to notice the unspoken slander or chose not to comment upon it, so he let it go.
Merlin leaned over to him. “I thought I was your chamberlain.”
“Can’t a king have more than one?”
The druid smiled. “Actually, it’s customary to have four, so you still have two to appoint. In any case, he’s a good choice. He’ll serve you well in any way you ask of him.”
“I know.”
The main doors opened, and a soldier entered with a scrap of parchment in his hand. He approached the high table and bowed.
“Your Majesty, this was just received via messenger bird.”
“Thank you.” He took the slip and read it carefully. “The Saxons have reached the River Glein and are navigating inland. How long will it take to reach them?”
Brastias replied, “Five days at the speed of the army, but if we have just the knights riding at top speed and exchanging for fresh horses, we could do it in half that time.”
