by Kim Dragoner
“Out with it!” Elaine demanded.
Rhys was afraid of Elaine. She was the severe, matronly type that would hit your elbows with a stick if they appeared on the dining table during a meal.
“I think that some coin could be saved with a little cleverness; by using the available skill in the gardens to produce the decorations and maybe from our kitchens as well with regards to the food and drink.”
“How so, Rhys?” Morgana demanded. The interest of all three sisters was piqued even though Morgause still said nothing. She never said anything.
“Well, I think that maybe Glaber could provide the flowers, branches and vines for the decorating instead of purchasing them from the people on the moors.”
The sisters murmured to each other. That had never been done before.
“He has the biggest peonies and hydrangeas of all colors blooming this year,” Rhys added quickly and got a verbal reaction from the sisters.
“Go on, Nephew,” Morgana commanded. She was beaming with pride.
“It may be possible that Amy, um pardon me, Amarelle could organize for the meat from the castle flocks, as well as the bread could be baked here. She also has excellent ideas toward the brewing and a tremendous amount of talent for it.”
Morgana was delighted and in the end, Rhys’ ideas and Amarelle’s ingenuity saved almost a total of one hundred and fifty gold pieces. Ironically, the celebrations were even more lavish than they had been in many years past.
In the library, Rhys looked up a poetry book and took it down from the shelves. He wrote the title and his name on the parchment that Murcanthia left out for students to record the borrowed texts, and made his way to his rooms. He would need the poems for his literature classes in the morning, but at the moment, Erasmus would be waiting to help him get ready for dinner.
Rhys rode Broderick again the next day. After his literature studies and a brief session with Glaber on Rowan trees, he was mentally exhausted and a bit of riding and archery would relax his mind. Broderick, however, was having none of it; the horse was restless and uncooperative, so Rhys eventually stabled him for the day and practiced his archery on foot before going in for lunch. Everyone was seated in the informal hall chattering and laughing as the stewards placed bowls of broth, loaves of dark bread and bowls of stewed vegetables on the tables in front of them. Silence fell as the chaplain blessed the meal and continued as everyone began eating.
Rhys sat beside Erasmus and soon began discussing the fall hunting with him. He had seen several large herds of deer in Exmoor and had noticed that the stag were in surplus this year. The older man seemed dismissive about his plans, but gave an occasional nod and grunt where it was expected of him.
“I found twelve hen-of-the-woods yesterday on the mainland. Amy said she would make tonight’s soup out of them. It should be delicious.”
“That is good news, Rhys.” Erasmus replied absent-mindedly.
“What is wrong, my friend? You seem terribly distracted.”
“Oh, it is nothing, sir.”
Rhys did not pursue the matter; he knew it would not be courteous.
Erasmus finished his meal and stood to leave the table, but turned back to face the boy.
“You have the afternoon to yourself again today, Rhys.”
He walked away before Rhys could utter a word of protest. Rhys watched him leave the hall. As Erasmus stepped through the door that led back out to the castle’s main hall, he noticed something. There was a stranger lingering near the doorway. He wore a dark brown cape with the hood pulled low over his face to cover his eyes and though he seemed to be looking directly at him, Rhys could not be sure.
When Erasmus passed through the doorway, the stranger turned and immediately followed.
Chapter Two
Earth
Rhys found the little glen in Exmoor Forest again without any effort and one look at the clear, cool pond made him want to go for a swim. He took off his shoes and clothes and placed them on a large rock by the water’s edge, jumped into the water and swam over to the waterfall. He stopped and looked at it closely, trying to imagine how he could have seen anything behind the curtain of falling water.
It must have been an illusion, he thought and continued swimming.
But Rhys’ gaze kept returning to the waterfall and then he caught a glimpse of the lilac dress again. The breeze lifted the hem and blew it out from behind the water.
“Ho there!” he called but there was no answer. He peered into the water and made out the image of a girl there. She was looking intently at him, waiting to see what he would do.
“I can see you there, madam, behind the falls,” he called out. “Do you not know that it is rather rude to spy on people, especially naked people?”
There was muffled giggling, then nothing. The girl was gone. Startled, Rhys made his way to the edge and got out of the pond. He dressed quickly, never taking his eyes off the water, but she didn’t reappear.
Where did she go? he wondered.
Suddenly a voice called out, “Hello!”
His gaze returned to the water’s surface. A girl’s face was looking up at him from the water. He stepped back from the edge.
“No! Please come back,” the girl said. Rhys looked at her, he could see her clearly now. He was petrified.
“Don’t be afraid, I will not hurt you. I just want to talk to you,” she added.
“Who are you?” he asked. “And why are you in the water?”
“I am Naida, Naida Brannon and I am in the water because I wanted to see you. It has been a long time since I have seen a human being,” she replied.
“How so, Naida? These forests are very old and I am sure that the people of these moors and even the monks from the great abbey at Glastonbury must have been here to gather food and herbs and hunt animals.”
“Maybe they come to Exmoor, but it is hardly a human who can find his way into this glen to sit at this pool. It is protected and is not easily entered.”
“Well, I found it easily enough.”
Naida eyes widened at this fact but she quickly took the opportunity to change the subject.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“I am Rhys, Rhys ab Tywysog,” he answered.
She paused with his answer as if she were tasting it on her tongue.
“Rhys? What kind of name is this? Does it have meaning to you?”
Rhys laughed before he answered her.
“Yes, it does, my lady. Rhys means ‘dragon’ or ‘zeal’ depending on the dialect. Our family name is ‘ab Tywysog’ which means ‘son of the prince’ which is my grandfather’s title.”
“Where are you from, Rhys ap Tywysog?”
Rhys laughed. “You have a lot of questions for one who may not answer any.”
“I know, but there are many reasons for that,” she quipped.
“Alright, well, we come from not far away, Dumnonia to be exact, but my family holds land in The Midlands. Presently I live on Avalon at the court of Morgana le Fae,” he replied.
There was a pause in their conversation that felt natural as if they both needed some time to mull over what had been said so far.
“What does Naida mean?” he asked.
“It means ‘water’ and Brannon is the name of my clan. It means ‘Lord.’”
“Ah, a noble-faery then?”
They laughed together at the jest.
“You are beautiful, Rhys. The most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”
“Well, I would imagine that all you would see this deep in Exmoor would be fae folk, goblins and dirty marauding Saxons,” he answered.
Naida’s eyes widened and Rhys noticed her expression.
“Why are you surprised?” he asked.
“What do you know of fae folk and goblins?” she demanded.
“Nothing really, I am just trying to make conversation. Why, are you a goblin? I would think you too pretty to be a goblin!”
Rhys rocked back with laughter at his own j
oke. Naida gave a long sorrowful sigh and vanished. He felt terrible.
“Stop! Wait! Come back! I meant no insult by my curtness. I apologize, please come back and let us talk some more.”
He looked all over the surface of the pond; her image reappeared a short time after, seated behind the waterfall watching him again.
“I meant you no insult, milady,” Rhys replied.
She was startled and turned to look directly at him.
“You can see me here?” Naida asked.
“As clear as day, my lady, just as I did yesterday. Should I not be able to?”
She fumbled slightly before answering, “Of course you should; have you not eyes in your head?”
Rhys looked down in embarrassment and Naida couldn’t help smiling at his reaction to her sarcasm.
“Oh, you really are quite handsome, sir.”
“Is that all you are going to say to me for the rest of the day?” Rhys quipped.
“Why? Are you going to stay to talk for the rest of the day?” she answered.
Rhys erupted in more laughter.
“Answering questions with more questions! My father always told me that this was one of women’s favorite tricks,” he said.
“I do not try to trick you. I told you before that my answers were to be limited,” she replied, scowling playfully as she stepped out from behind the water and took a seat on the rocks at the far end of the pond. Rhys nodded and smiled.
“How old are you, Rhys? You seem quite young, a boy. What are you doing so deep in Exmoor by yourself?”
“Boyhood is long behind me. I am seventeen years of age, after all.”
The defiant angle at which he held his chin as he said it made Naida giggle again.
“Why are you laughing?” he asked.
“You speak of being seventeen as if you had lived a lifetime,” she said.
“But seventeen is rather old. If my father had his way, I would have been married and had made him a grandfather by now, but alas, I am not as scholarly in such pursuits as would be pleasing to him.” Rhys sighed again.
“Why so low at the mention of this, Rhys?” she asked, concerned about the change of mood. “I am one hundred and fifty years old. My mother has lost interest in my future and my father has turned his ambitions to my married siblings, thinking me a wild and unwilling child.”
“A child? At one hundred and fifty? You look to be no older than fifteen years old. What are you, Naida?” he asked again.
“I cannot answer that, but you said you live at court with Morgana le Fae. Why is that so?”
“More questions for questions?” He paused, then answered, “She is my father’s cousin; he sent me there to be sophisticated by court life, but I know that he secretly hopes I will be married in a great match made by Morgana.”
“I see,” she replied. “But what do you want?”
“I want to see the world,” Rhys said, “learn everything there is, become a knight and maybe sit at the Round Table. To be quite honest, I’d be happy to serve dinner at the Round Table but for my family’s sake, I try to keep my ambitions high.”
Rhys flashed his widest smile at her. Naida smiled back at him and started to make her way around the pond balancing precariously at the water’s edge.
“Be careful not to fall, milady,” Rhys called out to her but she ignored him completely. Soon she was on his side of the pond and she took a seat in the lush grass.
“You are the court jester, eh?” Naida quipped. “Have you ever met King Arthur?”
“No, but I hope to soon, we are related after all. Quite distantly, but related none the less. My uncle Caradoc is a Knight of the Round Table. His son will soon follow in his footsteps, I’d think.”
He sighed.
“I have to return home now, Rhys,” Naida suddenly said, breaking the pause in conversation. “If you wish for the answers to the questions you asked me, seek out Murcanthia, Morgana’s librarian. She will tell you where to find the answers.”
With that, she disappeared. Rhys looked around again to see if she was elsewhere in the glen, but she was gone.
“Not even a polite goodbye?” he shouted, feeling dejected.
“Goodbye,” a voice called from across the water. Rhys whirled around looking at the waterfall. He just caught sight of the hem of her dress disappearing from sight.
Then he heard her last words clearly as she added, “And no matter what happens, do not speak of any of this to anyone at Avalon.”
The leaves overhead rustled violently in the wind, then silence. She was gone. Rhys fell back against the grass once more. His mind raced, his heart pounded, his head was giddy. Who was she, this Naida? And most importantly WHAT was she? She was a beautiful nymph of a girl, an enchantress from the water.
Avalon
Rhys heard the distant sounding of a gong and paused to look up at the windows of the huge library.
“Oh dear God!” he cried as he saw the sun was well on its way home. “It’s the supper gong.”
He jumped up and raced over to the west wing door and down the corridor to his rooms. His valet was waiting impatiently for him.
“Where have you been, Master Rhys? You are late!” Erasmus admonished.
“I was in the library reading, Erasmus. Time must have gotten away from me.”
He threw off his jerkin and shirt and faced Erasmus so he could push his arms into the clean shirt the valet held up for him. He donned a new jerkin as well. Erasmus tightened his belt and put on the scabbard at his waist while Rhys brushed his hair quickly. He ran from the room and out to the entry hall of the banquet room and pushed through the crowd to take his place beside one of his aunt’s ladies, Enid, whom he escorted in to supper on the nights when he did not serve at Morgana’s table.
“Where have you been?” Enid hissed. “You are late!”
“I have heard that several times already. Be still, Lady Enid. I have made my way here before you entered for supper, have I not? You are yet escorted to dine like a true and proper young woman. No scandal shall erupt on you today. If you must know, I was caught up reading in the library.”
Rhys rolled his eyes just at the thought of the dramatics his absence would have caused at court. Enid smiled at him.
“You were reading books? When did that ever outweigh civic duty?” she retorted, still managing a giggle at Rhys.
He rolled his eyes again, this time for his own benefit. She was as insincere as a bridge troll; everyone at court knew that Lady Enid was fond of him. She giggled childishly at everything he said and blushed shamefully when he entered the room. Rhys found her silly, boring and terribly simple-minded. He thought that true of most of the girls at Avalon and scoffed at his father’s notion that a marriage to any one of these ladies would be a great one. Unbearable is what it would be, but he had long since found out that he and his father had very different ideas about love and marriage as well as very different thoughts about what made a marriage successful. He thought more like his mother did in those regards. Rhys sighed and the sound of the trumpets broke his reverie. They walked into the hall in their pairs and took their seats.
Fortunately, his aunt insisted that her ladies and her pages sit at segregated tables to dine. She discouraged fraternizing in her court; thinking it meretricious behavior for the young people in her service. Only when one of her court members became engaged and released from service would that person be allowed to sit at the conjugal tables among the rest of the gentry with their betrothed. She was strict but fair and everything she did was beyond reproach and vivid with purpose. Rhys loved that about her. He stopped and bowed low to Morgana, where she was seated on her throne. She was always a sight to behold. Impeccably dressed for the occasion, her long black hair was luxurious from brushing and neatly in place beneath her golden circlet. She wore a green gown to dinner, a wide gold medallion belt hung at her waist. The dress’ color brought out the shade of green in her eyes, making them sparkle. Her dark hair and bright green eye
s were the only sign of her relation to Rhys. They were strong traits of their paternal bloodline.
Enid curtsied deeply beside him before leaving to take her seat. Morgana smiled at them and crooked her finger at Rhys. He went up the dais to stand beside her throne at her right hand. He bowed his head to receive her blessing and she gently touched the top of his head.
“Are you well, Nephew?” she asked. “I have not seen you all day.”
“I am well, Aunt. I had archery and literature this morning, then I rowed out with the boat today and studied with Murcanthia in the library,” he confessed, but decided to omit everything about his new friend.
“Very well done.” She returned her gaze to the dining room. “Are you ready for the Apple Festival tomorrow? You will be serving us at the late breakfast.”
“Yes, I am ready and Amarelle and I have a lovely surprise for you as well; some delicious new ale.”
“Well, now I am excited,” she said, clapping her hands softly. “Be seated and enjoy your supper.”
“Thank you, Aunt.”
Rhys backed away from the throne, being careful not to turn his back until he was off the dais again. He sat down at the page’s table next to Bothwin, page of the stables and Randalf, page of the Royal Standard.
The trumpets sounded again and the servers appeared at the door to the dining hall. They were carrying the trays laden with food for the first course. The first platters went up the dais to Morgana and her sisters to taste after which they would send each dish to one of the tables in the hall. Other servers went directly through the room laying out the accompanying dishes on all the tables. Bowls of boiled potatoes, radishes and parsnips, fruit, bread and cheese were delivered. The pages received a roasted suckling pig while the ladies were brought a roasted duck. They served themselves and then, as was customary, they had the servers exchange the platters so they could share each other’s dishes.
The trumpets blared again and the hum of conversation ceased. A troupe of madrigals started strumming their instruments and began playing one pleasant arrangement after another all through the rest of the meal.
