by Regan Walker
What had started out as a cold swim to wash away the many battles he’d been in had become much more. He hadn’t expected to find a woman unaccompanied at the lake.
Nicholas slipped his tunic over his head. He welcomed the cool, crisp air after his brief encounter with the very desirable woman, but now his senses had returned, and he didn’t want to catch his death.
He smiled. So far, he’d kept his promise to King Arthur and had not touched a woman in three months and a fortnight. But today was December first, so his vow had ended and Arthur owed him.
Nicholas looked back to where the woman had been. Why had he turned away from such a beautiful woman? He had seen the desire in her eyes, and with a little coaxing he’d have enjoyed an afternoon of pleasure.
An afternoon he needed desperately.
So why didn’t he go back and satisfy his needs and be done with it? He didn’t have the answer.
Mounting his destrier, he gave one last look at the lake, then jerked his mount around. When he reached Camelot he’d satisfy his urges, and this time he’d choose a wench who had no thoughts of marriage. Then he’d collect his wager with Arthur.
As Nicholas approached camp, his first-in-command Dirk, met him. And he wasn’t smiling.
Though Dirk was one of those muscle-bound Highlanders, he had become Nicholas’s best comrade. Dirk had reddish-brown hair and a fiery temper to go with it. His size made men walk carefully around him.
“It is about time ye be returning ye sorry hide back to camp. Just how long does it take to wash ye filthy hide?”
Nicholas grinned. Something he rarely did. “So you were worried about me?” he asked as he dismounted.
“It is not worry I be doing. It is more like concern that some fool would take revenge on ye, and then I’d have to hunt the lazy cur down and lay him low.”
“I see.” Nicholas rubbed his chin. “The concern was not so much for me, but for the inconvenience of the fight.”
“Aye,” Dirk said with a nod. He laughed. “The last battle was a long one. We need to rest for a while.”
“I can remember when you never complained about a battle.” Nicholas pointed out.
“It was those Irish heathens, a slimy lot. Every time we thought we had the bad ones routed out, another bunch would show up.”
“It was a long battle,” Nicholas agreed with a smile. “We will rest here for a few days, and then return to Camelot for the Christmas season. How does that sound?”
“Very appealing.” Dirk smiled. “There are a few wenches who have been heartbroken since I left. I’m sure they need consoling by now.”
“Good. Then so be it. Three days hence, we ride to Camelot where we will find a peaceful time. Good food, good friends . . . who could ask for more?”
Chapter 2
Noelle sighed. Maybe Merlin had been wrong. She had never met anyone to fit his description of the man in her future, and now she doubted that she ever would.
“Lady Noelle.”
Noelle heard the groom’s voice as she took Thor’s bridle and walked him down the path toward the opening to the meadow. The leaves had all fallen from the birch trees except for a few stubborn ones, which still clung tenaciously, but the branches were thick when combined with the many blue-green juniper trees, so her path was still hidden.
“Noelle!” Tristan called, forcefully.
When she emerged onto the open field, she saw her brother. It was apparent that he didn’t trust the groom to bring her back. As soon as Tristan spotted her, he nudged his mount around and trotted toward her. “You have been told not to ride alone,” he scolded.
“Aye.” Noelle nodded. She felt weary from the day’s events: first her brother’s announcement and then the stranger who had her emotions so stirred up she didn’t want to think about them. She glanced up at her brother. “You have told me many things I choose to ignore. However, you should know better than most how I feel about marriage.”
She regretted the words the minute she’d said them, for that dead look immediately entered Tristan’s eyes ... the same look he’d worn for a year after his wife died in childbirth. A child, she’d confessed just before she died, that belonged to another man. Didn’t her brother remember what it was like to be joined with one he did not love? “You, my brother, have betrayed me.”
Tristan dismounted. “Nay. I have not.”
His brown hair was windblown from his brisk ride, giving him a boyish appearance. He was a handsome man and had always been the one to protect her. There was no anger in his blue eyes, only guilt, and Noelle would make certain that guilt did not go away anytime soon.
“I have not betrayed you, sister,” he said again.
She shot him a skeptical look.
“Not the way you think,” he hurried to add. “Sir Gavin is a good man. I ask that you go to Camelot and meet him. If you have not changed your mind by the time your wedding arrives,” Tristan paused and ran a hand through his hair, “I will think of a way to release you from my pledge.”
Preparing to mount, Noelle grasped Thor’s reins. “How can I trust you?”
Tristan helped his sister to her seat, then climbed up on his horse before he looked at her again. “I love you. But I want you to realize that King Arthur is in favor of this union. It will strengthen the Cranborne alliance.”
“Then let the king marry Sir Gavin,” Noelle snapped as she jerked her mount around and galloped off.
When Tristan finally caught up to her, he said “By the saints, woman, be reasonable. Do you not care for your own people?”
“More than anything else,” Noelle declared.
“Then do this for them. I will accompany you and your ladies-in-waiting on the morrow. Merlin has returned to Camelot. I know how much you like him.”
“Aye. I want to see Merlin,” Noelle said.
And for more than one reason.
The next morning dawned cold and crisp. The sky was dark gray and bleak, making Noelle wonder if it might snow. Snow would be perfect for Christmas, she thought, though she’d never seen a Christmas with snow.
Thor had been saddled and a small wagon readied, she noticed as she walked down the steps from the Great Hall to the bailey. Her ladies-in-waiting would have to ride in the small cart since most of the extra horses had been sold. Blankets and cushions had been placed in the bottom of the cart to make the ride comfortable.
She barely glanced at John, who stood by the wagon.
“Godspeed Noelle. You will thank me for this one day,” John called to her.
“I think not,” Noelle replied as she mounted Thor and adjusted her cloak. She looked at her ladies as they settled themselves in the cart. It would be a long time before she’d forgive John, if ever. She knew this arrangement had been his idea. Why would King Arthur do such a thing? She’d not seen him since her father’s death. Why would he remember her now?
It was the money, plain and simple.
As the procession started forward, she saw that Tristan rode in front. He was wise to ride with the guards and steer clear of her. At the moment, she could burn his ears with her displeasure.
“Are you not excited?” Isabelle gushed as soon as the wagon lurched forward.
Noelle rode beside the cart so she could talk with her ladies-in-waiting. Glancing over at them, she admired their beauty. Isabelle had long red hair and devilish blue eyes; Carolyn had shorter black hair and light blue eyes. They had been a joy to Noelle because they made her laugh often, and were constantly doing things they were not supposed to do.
As for herself, she was plain in comparison, but she cared not. She had never been one to fuss with her looks. She would rather be riding or shooting bows and arrows. Since her mother had died at her birth, Isabelle and Carolyn had been her only female contacts, and they hadn’t happened along until after her twelfth birthday. So she had been at the mercy of her older brothers and had developed many unladylike habits.
For a time Lady Guinevere would come and visit, and they
had developed a close relationship. But Noelle had not seen Guinevere since she went to Camelot to marry King Arthur.
“Are you all right, Noelle?” Carolyn asked, concerned that Noelle had yet to answer them.
Noelle sighed before answering. “Alas, I may never be all right again.”
“But we are going to Camelot,” Isabelle said. “Have you not always wanted to see the city? I have heard that nothing compares to the splendor of Camelot.”
Carolyn laughed. “You have always wanted to see Sir Lancelot.”
“Aye, and does he not reside in Camelot?” Isabelle smiled “I hear he is the bravest of knights, but ’tis another who is the most feared.”
Carolyn nodded at Isabelle. “Aye, I’ve heard some tales about him.”
“How, pray tell, do you two know so much about knights you have never seen before?” Noelle asked. She shifted the reins to her other hand. “Neither of you has left Cranborne that I can remember.”
“’Tis the soldiers, of course.” Isabelle giggled. “They bring back wonderful stories of battles and the men who have fought with them.”
Noelle smiled at her two companions. At least they were keeping her mind off her problems. Finally she had to ask, “So, who is this bold knight?”
Isabelle leaned forward as if she were going to tell a deep, dark secret. “He is called the Scarlet Knight and is feared by everyone. ’Tis said that he is nice to gaze upon, as well,” she added with a giggle. “Or so I have heard tell.”
“Why is he so feared?” Noelle asked smiling at her gossiping ladies. She made sure she gave the impression that she was only mildly interested.
“’Tis said he leaves a trail of blood in every battle he’s ever fought. He saved King Arthur’s life twice. He’s ruthless, he is,” Isabelle informed them.
“I am sure all of King Arthur’s knights are brave.”
“Such as your knight, milady?” Carolyn added.
“He is not my knight,” Noelle quickly pointed out.
Her denial didn’t stop Carolyn. “Have you ever seen Sir Gavin?”
Noelle frowned. “Nay.”
Carolyn pulled the blanket up higher to protect her from the cool air. “I hope he will capture your heart, and then all this fretting will be for naught.”
“Let us hope,” Noelle said.
“I have always looked forward to your marriage, milady. A Christmas wedding would be special indeed” Isabelle said.
“As have I, but to a man of my choosing. Not one chosen for me.”
“Let us not be hasty in our judgment,” Carolyn, the ever-faithful optimist, pointed out. “Sir Gavin could be the very one.”
“I agree. And I have promised to keep an open mind until I have met him. Does that satisfy both of you?”
They nodded.
Noelle glanced out at the tall oaks as they proceeded through the forest. The sun was breaking through the clouds, streaking the forest floor with sunlight. They had traveled a little ways past Cadbury when they came to Arthur’s bridge.
The clicks of Thor’s hooves echoed on the stones as they crossed the bridge. The beautiful gray stone archway stretched over the River Alham in the woodsy section between the little Somerset village of South Cadbury and Sutton Montis.
They were traveling up a hedge-lined path, when suddenly the procession burst out into a clearing and Camelot loomed in the far distance. Noelle’s first glimpse was overwhelming for the castle was much larger than she’d ever imagined. “Turn around and look,” she called to her ladies.
Sitting in the middle of a lake, on a very impressive hill, was a pristine white castle. The square corner towers were enormous, stretching up to the sky with multi-colored banners flying from each. There were eight towers in all, and a gigantic gateway led to massive walls where the king’s banners flew.
Camelot was twice the size of Cranborne Castle, so tremendous that it encompassed the entire hill. A lower wall and a higher wall surrounded it.
“Why do they have two walls?” Isabelle asked. “We only have one.”
“For protection,” Noelle said as the wind tore wisps of hair from her braids. “The archers on the inner wall can shoot over the heads of those on the outer walls.”
“That makes sense, but who would be foolish enough to attack the king?” Isabelle said.
Noelle took a deep breath as she stared at the castle. Her hands were trembling, but her expression remained inscrutable as she answered, “No one, I hope.”
“Did you see all the banners?” Carolyn asked as she turned to sit down in the cart. “Are they not lovely?”
Suddenly trumpets began a fanfare as the cart started across the long road, leading over the moat and to the gates of Camelot, the only entrance into the castle. The chains and winches creaked as the drawbridge was lowered, landing with a loud thump. Once again the procession started forward through the gatehouse, which was larger than most. It had three portcullises, their sharp points hovering just above the riders’ heads as they swept under them.
There were several murder holes in the ceiling of the gatehouse between the portcullises. From there the archers could fire arrows, drop rocks, or pour hot liquids on intruders.
The procession came to a halt once they had moved across the bailey. A moment later, a young page ran over to them. He bowed with a sweeping gesture. “Miladies, welcome to Camelot.”
Noelle smiled. He held Thor’s bridle so she could dismount, while another page helped Carolyn and Isabelle out of the wagon.
“Who is Sir Gavin?” Isabelle boldly asked the page.
Noelle sent a warning look to her lady-in-waiting for being so bold. “Isabelle.”
“He is yonder, standing by King Arthur.” The boy pointed.
“Oooo, he’s a fine one, Noelle.”
“Isabelle. Remember we are at court and should act as ladies of our station,” Noelle whispered to her. “Behave yourself.”
“Well, someone must ask questions.”
The knights and the king dispersed and went in different directions. Arthur strode inside the castle.
“Are you ladies ready to meet the king?” Tristan said as he came and took Noelle’s arm. “The page just informed me that the king wishes to see you right away. He awaits us in the Great Hall.”
The page led the way to an outside staircase next to the stonewall of the keep. As they carefully climbed the narrow staircase, Noelle noticed that the shutters on the windows had been thrown open so the air wouldn’t be so stuffy inside.
A guard stood by the single door that led into the Great Hall. He shoved open the door and bade them enter.
The large one-room structure was much bigger and grander than the one at home. The lofty ceiling had beams stretched across a ceiling which was at least forty feet high. Welcoming banners and tapestry hung on the walls, providing bright colors. So far everything about Camelot was beautiful.
The floor was strewn with fresh rushes, which smelled of the lavender, roses, and mint that had been sprinkled on them.
The king and queen sat on a raised dais of wood at the upper end of the hall upon massive chairs with a blue canopy overhead. Usually there would be trestle tables set up for the soldiers, but they had been dismantled during the day to give more room.
The knights were missing from the room, and Noelle realized she’d been holding her breath, which she promptly let out. At least she had a little more time before she had to meet her future husband.
King Arthur nodded with a smile. “Noelle, you have grown into a lovely woman.”
Noelle blushed as she came to stand before the king. She curtsied. “You are most kind, your majesty,” Noelle said as she studied the kind face of the king. He had gray hair and a matching beard, but his eyes were the vibrant blue that she always remembered when he’d visited her father.
“Tristan, I hope you will join my knights in training. They are preparing for the joust and games we will be having for Christmas.”
“I would be honore
d, sire.”
“Good.” Arthur nodded and turned his attention back to Noelle. “I believe that you and Guinevere are old friends.” He reached over and placed a hand on the queen’s arm, and Noelle could see in his eyes the affection that he had for Guinevere.
Guinevere smiled. Her two ladies-in-waiting were dressed in gay dresses, but Guinevere’s beauty surpassed all around her. With dark brown hair that swirled past her waist, she looked every bit the queen and not the young girl who used to ride with Noelle. A gold chain was wrapped around her forehead. Her complexion was flawless.
“Your majesty.” Noelle curtsied.
“It has been much too long, Noelle,” Guinevere said, then stood. “I have looked forward to seeing you again. Come.” She extended her hands to Noelle.
“You have been traveling a long way,” Guinevere said as she took Noelle’s hands, then called to a servant. “Ruth, please show these ladies to their chambers.”
“This way, if you please,” Ruth said to Carolyn and Isabelle.
“I will walk with you for a while,” Guinevere said to Noelle.
As they started after the maid, Noelle said, “It is so good to see you, your majesty.”
Guinevere raised her brow.
Noelle laughed. “You look so much like a queen and not the girl I once confided all my secrets to,” she explained.
Guinevere chuckled. “I am still the same. Only the clothes are different. It’s tiresome to be constantly surrounded by big, husky men, so it will be a pleasure to have someone near my age at the castle. Maybe you and your ladies would like to accompany me on the morrow to collect greenery for the castle.”
“I would like that.”
They traveled down a long hallway, then turned to their right and continued down another long hall. Wainscoting that had been painted green spangled with silver stretched down the hall. Her own castle did not have hallways—one room led to another—but she’d heard that King Arthur had especially designed his castle to be like none before. Wall hangings of painted wool adornments were on every wall.
“There will be a feast tonight where you will meet Sir Gavin. I imagine that you are excited about that,” Lady Guinevere said.
