by Donna Hosie
“Trust me, sister,” said Lucan softly. “I am no physician, but I have some skill in the art of healing. I will make good the wound until we get out of the woods.”
“I had another vision,” I gasped. “I saw my death. It was Arthur...and you, Bedivere.”
“You will not die, Natasha,” replied Bedivere, “not while I have breath left in my body.”
He clasped my hands and let me crush his, as Lucan pulled out the arrowhead. I cried until my throat was raw. I didn’t watch what Lucan was doing to my wound, but it felt a thousand times worse, as my lungs burned with poison. Every laboured breath felt heavy, like I was breathing in fumes.
The injured were taken to a small field, where physicians heated potions under a line of torches. I watched everything, but couldn’t answer the questions that were being asked by the physicians. Every mouthful of thick black liquid that was forced into my mouth made me gag, as I felt myself drowning.
Arthur and Bedivere didn’t leave my side. They thought I was crying because of the pain, but they were wrong.
I finally knew how my previous life in this time had ended, and it had ended on a pyre, lit by Bedivere, on the orders of King Arthur.
Chapter Three
Quid Pro Quo
I could hear voices arguing. One was definitely Arthur’s. I had no idea who the other voice belonged to, but I took a guess that it was an old woman’s, because it sounded phlegmy and croaky like my grandmother’s. They were shouting about Merlin.
I had woken up from a dreamless sleep to a fire of pain in my right leg, but that was nothing compared to the agony now killing my head and heart.
Arthur wasn’t the only one originally from this time. I had been here before, as I had always suspected. But I had been murdered by my brother and the boy I had fallen head over heels in love with. I could still see the hatred in their opaque eyes as I burned.
What had I done to make them despise me so much?
I needed answers. Byron knew my past; he had told Guinevere I was special. But Byron was dead, regardless of what Guinevere believed.
What about Merlin?
The wizard would know my truth. Who I was then, and who I was now. Ever since Patrick had died I had survived on the truth, however hard it was to say and hear. I needed it more than ever now.
Arthur and the old woman were still arguing. Several other voices had joined in. No one noticed I was awake. I wasn’t in a tent, I was outside. I could feel the wind on my skin. It was blowing through the dancing flames of the torches.
I moved just a fraction, but it was enough to bring Bedivere running to my side.
“Natasha,” he whispered, kneeling down beside me. “Are you in much pain?”
“I need to see Merlin,” I said, ignoring his question.
“You and the king, both,” replied Tristram. He, Gareth, Talan, David and Lucan had formed a line behind Bedivere. “The king desires Merlin to leave Camelot and return to the travelling court, but the sorcerer refuses.”
“So why is my brother arguing with the old woman?” I asked.
“The crone has the voice of Merlin,” replied Gareth. “She is another seer, Lady Natasha. Through her, the sorcerer can show his will, and he has declared that he will only return for the heir. Lady Samantha refuses to be parted from the child, and Merlin’s stubbornness has made the king very angry.”
“Arthur was an idiot for making us ride through the woods in the dark.” I groaned, as another spasm of fire shot down towards my kneecap.
“More healing milk of the poppy?” asked Talan. He had a golden cup in his hand.
I shook my head. What I wanted was for them all to leave me alone - Bedivere as well. I couldn’t bring myself to even look at him.
I knew it was completely irrational to hate him and Arthur for something that had happened to me a thousand years in the past, but I was burning up with pain. My lungs felt so clogged up that every breath I took felt like it would be my final one. The last thing I needed was another vision of actually burning at the stake, and if I stayed around Bedivere and Arthur, then that was exactly what would happen.
I needed to get to Merlin – now.
I tried to stand up. The pain in my leg was excruciating. Bedivere and Gareth immediately went to hold onto my arms, but I pushed them away.
“I need to see Merlin,” I gasped. I could feel the poisonous fire passing through my veins. It was boiling me alive.
“Lady Natasha,” cried David. “You should not move. I know the agony of the poison from the dwarf-riders’ arrows. You must rest.”
It was no good. I couldn’t put one foot in front of the other. My limbs simply wouldn’t work.
“Get Arthur.”
It was Guinevere I saw dragging Arthur away from the old woman. He looked furious, and was shouting and swearing at everyone who was standing on the sidelines.
“Bloody Merlin,” he spat as he got closer. “Isn’t he supposed to serve me, or something? He thinks nothing of travelling through time to kidnap Sammy from our actual house, but the minute I want that dumbass back here to protect her and Mila, the bastard won’t help.”
“I’m in agony by the way. Thanks for asking.”
“Sorry, Titch,” said Arthur quickly, dropping to my level. “Do you need something to help you sleep?”
I was hit by another memory of Arthur asking the same question, just moments before he discovered my baby rabbit, Mr. Rochester, murdered in the old chicken coop at Avalon Cottage. The event that started everything.
“I need Merlin,” I said quietly. “Gareth said Merlin will come for Mila but not Slu...Sammy, so give the baby to me. I’ll look after her.”
“Over my dead body,” screeched a Welsh accent.
I looked over Arthur’s shoulder, and coming towards us, waddling like a duck, was Slurpy. A bundle of thin yellow blankets was in her arms.
“You can’t take Mila away, Titch,” exclaimed Arthur. “You don’t know the first thing about babies, for a start.”
“And you two are world experts, are you? She won’t even feed the baby herself. She gives it to one of the women. That’s why they’re called wet nurses. It’s got nothing to do with giving the baby a bath.”
Mila started to cry. Arthur put his head in his hands. I wanted to feel sorry for him, but I could hear his voice from the past so clearly now...the jeering...the cheers...the crackling of the fire...
“Lady Natasha, you must rest. I insist.”
An elderly man gently took my arm. I knew him from somewhere. He had white hair sprouting out of his nose and ears.
“Taliesin?”
“You remember me?” The old man seemed overjoyed, but a surge of panic-filled adrenaline shot through my veins, momentarily dulling the poison. If the physician from the court of Lindsey was here, then that meant Duke Corneus was here too. Bedivere’s father: the monster who had tried to burn me, Guinevere and Byron at the stake.
Burning people alive clearly ran in the whole family.
“Our father is not here, Lady Natasha,” called Lucan, once again displaying an uncanny knack for understanding me. “Taliesin left the court of Lindsey after Sir Bedivere and I were banished.”
“And it grieves me so,” replied Taliesin, “but I am honoured to serve the king and Sir Bedivere in any way.”
“Can you get me to Merlin?” I asked. “Can you make me well enough to travel to Camelot - now?”
“He is coming...he is coming...” The old crone was laughing as she cried out. Every other tooth was missing from her mouth, which looked far too big to be normal. It was stretching as she laughed. It was more than a yawn. It was as if her crinkled face was made of elastic, and someone invisible was pulling at the edges of her blistered mouth. Then her eyes rolled in her head, and she fell to the ground, jerking like she was having a fit. Her skin was saggy and wrinkled, and it flapped around her as she moved. Everyone took several steps back as she continued to violently thrash about on the ground. Slurpy turned her
back to the old woman and cradled Mila to her chest. Arthur immediately wrapped his arms around the two of them.
“He is coming...he is coming...” cried the old woman again. Her engorged tongue was turning black in her gaping mouth.
Taliesin was the only person who rushed forward to help her. I fell back onto the ground and the pile of scratchy woollen blankets that had become my makeshift hospital bed.
Talk to me, Merlin, I pleaded in my thoughts. You know what I want. Talk to me.
I want the heir, Natasha, Lady Knight of the Round Table, said Merlin, and I knew he was in my head. It is not safe for her to be left there. Take the child from the mother and you shall have your answers. Camelot needs an heir.
Wind was starting to blow around the camp. It was still night, but a pale glow was rising through a gap in the trees. Day was coming already. How long had I been unconscious? The flames from the torches were starting to extinguish, one by one.
I want the heir, Natasha, Lady Knight of the Round Table, repeated Merlin. I am making it easy for you. The child will be yours for the taking. I will bring you both to Camelot and will keep you both safe.
If you want Mila so much, then why don’t you just take her yourself? Why did you leave in the first place? Why me?
Because the king must be my ally, now and always. Quid pro quo, as they say in your time. Quid pro quo. The heir for your answers.
So, Arthur stays your ally, but it’s okay for him to hate me if I take Mila by force? No chance, I thought.
Your future is not with Arthur. You and Arthur are destined to be parted.
I’m not kidnapping his baby, I said in my head, as the flames continued to die around us. And Arthur and I are not going anywhere without each other. You’re lying.
Your futures are not bound together, Natasha, Lady Knight of the Round Table, replied Merlin, but his voice was getting weaker, like an echo. You will be parted.
“WE WON’T,” I screamed.
“The freak is talking to herself again,” cried Slurpy. “I want her kept away from my baby.”
“Our baby, Sammy,” shouted Arthur, “and I’ve told you not to talk about my sister like that.”
“He is leaving...he is leaving,” gasped the old woman. She screamed and fell silent. Her body stopped fitting, and Taliesin and Guinevere dragged her away across the dirt, her black tongue sticking out of her mouth, like a slab of burnt meat.
“What did Merlin say to you?” asked Arthur.
“He wanted me to take Mila. He said she wasn’t safe here now. Merlin told me if I took Mila to him then he would tell me who I was.”
“That son of a bitch.”
“Lady Natasha,” said Gareth. “What do you mean when you say the sorcerer will show you who you are? Forgive me, but I do not understand. You are the king’s sister.”
“I wasn’t though, once,” I whispered. I didn’t know who to look at, and so I stared at the ground. A rising sun was casting weak shadows on the dirt. I had been unconscious for most of the night.
“Your words are mysterious, Natasha,” said Bedivere, “but in a manner that brings fear to my heart. Tell me, what have you seen?”
The group of knights around me started to shuffle nervously. Did they know? Did they suspect? Bedivere couldn’t remember me, but perhaps my face was just lost in the burning crowd.
“I was in Logres before the enchanted sleep,” I whispered to Bedivere. “I was here before. I lived in this time before.”
“What can you remember, Titch?” asked Arthur. His eyes were narrowed.
“You tell me?”
“I can’t remember anything specific,” he replied, “but when I see places, people, I know that I’ve seen them before. It’s like déjà vu or something. Is that what it’s like for you?”
I shook my head. “I can see moments from the past. I relive them. I can feel them.”
Slurpy was watching our exchange, smirking away as if she knew a secret. She knows, I thought. She knows exactly what I see and feel when I have these visions. Had she told Arthur about her past? No, of course not. She wanted to play the victim for as long as possible, but I remembered back to that first night at Caerleon Castle. Slurpy had been familiar with it, and the lake where we had first encountered the knights. She remembers. This is her past as well. Mordred didn’t just change her into Morgana – Slurpy really was Morgana.
The poison from the dwarf-riders’ arrows was coursing through me again. I heaved up yellow-green liquid. It didn’t splash near my feet because it was too thick.
“Natasha, you must rest,” said Bedivere.
“You’re not telling me the truth, Titch,” said Arthur suspiciously. “What’s going on? You haven’t lied to me since...”
“I’m not lying to you now,” I interrupted, coughing and gagging up more thick yellow mucus onto the ground.
“But you aren’t telling me everything,” replied Arthur. “Are you?”
“I can’t.”
“Why not? What else did Merlin say to you? Why did you scream we won’t?”
“Sire, Lady Natasha must rest,” said Taliesin. He had returned with Guinevere, who immediately dropped to my side and helped me to lie down. She winced as she pulled back the cream-coloured wadding that had been placed over the arrow wound to my leg.
“This conversation isn’t finished, Titch,” said Arthur. “If you won’t tell me what it is you see and hear, then perhaps you’ll tell Bedivere?”
Not likely, I thought, as Taliesin and Guinevere fussed around me. Bedivere, Gareth and Lucan had moved away and were talking in low voices. I could hear each take his turn, but I couldn’t catch what they were discussing. David joined them, and as I watched the sun slowly inch over the trees, his armour caught the sunlight, which splayed out around them all. They looked ethereal. Unreal.
Talan knelt down beside me, taking Taliesin’s place as the physician went to his bag. I thought the Irish knight was going to try and force more potion down my throat, and at first he appeared to be doing that, but then he whispered, “I will take you to Camelot, Lady Natasha, if that is your want.”
“Arthur and Bedivere don’t understand how important it is for me to see Merlin, Talan. They’ll make me stay here until Taliesin says I can travel, and that could be days.”
“To come to the aid of a maiden is a knight’s tenet,” said Talan, and his Irish voice was so soft I had to strain to hear it. “I am torn, for you are a knight and kin to Arthur, yet a maiden also.”
“And you aren’t going anywhere without me,” said Guinevere. She was pretending to check down my throat.
“Sssshh,” I whispered back. “They’ll hear.”
“They will track us, Lady Natasha,” said Talan.
“Will you be punished, Talan? I don’t want you to get into trouble.”
“Sir Bedivere will desire to slay me into the ground,” grinned Talan, “but I am keen for the challenge.”
“Why are you helping me?”
“I am repaying a debt,” said Talan softly. “You helped save my life during the Battle of Camelot. I sense this deed may save yours.”
“We’ll need a distraction,” whispered Guinevere, “so leave that to me. Sir Talan, you must get three horses and provisions to the yonder part of the wood.” She nodded towards the easterly rising sun. “I will meet you there with Lady Natasha.”
“Thank you both,” I said quietly. “I would never ask you...”
But Guinevere put up her hand to shut me up.
“You search for the truth, Lady Natasha, and there can be no greater quest than that.”
Chapter Four
The Runaways
Guinevere’s distraction came courtesy of a servant boy, who ran to the waiting knights, screaming at the top of his lungs, that a white Ddraig had been spotted sleeping in the next field. If any of them had bothered to look up into the sky, then they would have immediately realised that this was a ridiculous lie. The red Ddraig was somersaulting over the tree to
ps, doing loop the loop through its own smoke rings, and it didn’t look in the least bit worried about approaching danger. However, the knights’ pride had clearly been wounded in the attack by the dwarf-riders, and they were itching for a fight.
“I must go, my Natasha,” said Bedivere quickly, reaching down to stroke my face as he kissed my forehead.
“Wait, Bedivere,” I yelled, as Tristram, Gareth, David, Lucan and the other knights called to arms. I wanted to tell him why I was leaving now. I couldn’t wait. He would understand.
But the words got stuck, so I resorted to the ones that were easy.
“I love you,” I whispered, not daring to look into his eyes in case he guessed that I was keeping the truth from him.
He kissed me again, turned and ran. He was quickly swallowed in the rush of glinting chain mail.
“He will understand,” said Guinevere, taking my arm.
“I hate myself sometimes.”
“Then you are a fool. Sir Bedivere will be angrier with Sir Talan, and our gallant knight from across the sea is not afraid.”
Guinevere was slowly leading me away from the makeshift hospital camp. I noticed two bodies that had large flags pulled up over their torsos and faces. One flag had a red dragon printed on it, but the other had a green hill with a single stone building, like a church. It moved, as if fluttering in the wind, but there was no breeze at all.
“I think that person is still alive.”
Guinevere had seen the flag ripple too, because she reached down and pulled it back. We both gagged at the sight of the dead knight underneath. The veins in his face were swollen with pus. We could see the poison moving, like yellow worms, under his skin. His eyes were glued shut, and the skin was stretched so tightly from the swelling that his eyebrows were up into his hairline.
“Do you still wish to continue in haste to Camelot?” asked Guinevere, horrified, throwing back the flag which continued to move like a gentle wave. “Sir Talan and I are not true healers. If you were to take a turn for the worse...”
