by Donna Hosie
Talan knew where his name was because he was standing right in front of his seat at the table. The golden ink moved gracefully through the stone, revealing not only Talan’s name, but also a musical instrument, shaped like an oval guitar.
Tristram and David’s names were next, and then Gareth and two of his three brothers: Gawain and Agravaine. The table had already removed his brother, Gaheris. Stone and gold had no sentiment for the dead. I felt a jolt of guilt.
“Where will our names appear?” asked Guinevere. She was looking around excitedly, as the gold continued to flow.
But another thought had come to me: what if my name wasn’t revealed at all? What if the table didn’t think I was worthy? I had stood here before and not seen my name, and I had been knighted. Arthur reclaiming Excalibur had unlocked the golden ink, and Gawain and Gaheris’ names had been shown.
The table had already rejected me. I wasn’t special at all.
And then I saw Lady Natasha, linked by roses with the name at the next seat: Sir Bedivere. A unicorn was underneath his name; a waterfall beneath mine.
I burst into tears. I felt so stupid and yet so happy. I really did belong here.
“Chickens!” exclaimed Guinevere. “The table has given me my title and chickens!”
Laughing and hiccupping, I wiped away my tears. Talan kissed my hand and then I hugged him.
“A worthy seat for a worthy maiden.”
We walked over to where Guinevere was standing with her hands on her hips. Sure enough, under the gold river that had spelt out Lady Guinevere, the table had etched three golden chickens.
“You are shown a waterfall, and I get chickens,” she growled. “The Round Table is mocking me.”
“You are a provider of the feast, Lady Guinevere,” said Talan. “The table is declaring that no man, woman or child shall go hungry in your presence. The peasants of Logres will worship you.”
“Well, that’s not so bad,” she replied with a pout. Then Talan kissed her hand, and she soon forgot about the chickens.
“Be thankful the table did not reveal the same standard that is revealed to poor Sir Richard,” said Merlin. “He sits beneath a commoner dying of plague. Boils in very unfortunate places. Sir Richard has an unrivalled gift for healing, but there are some parts of the body that not even a knight cares to go. To gaze upon it every time you sit at the court – well, it is no wonder he cares to travel the land visiting the poor, instead of residing within the walls of Camelot.”
“Where’s Arthur’s seat?”
The table was enormous, but I hadn’t found my brother’s name. There was one empty place, though, where the river of gold ink suddenly stopped.
“The Round Table does not reveal the name of the king,” replied Talan. “He may sit where he chooses. This empty seat is the Siege Perilous.”
“I definitely don’t want Arthur sitting in anything with the name Perilous,” I replied. I knew the legend and I had seen the movies. The Perilous Seat was reserved for the knight who found the Holy Grail.
Then there was a rumble, like distant thunder. I felt the stone floor shudder slightly. Guinevere and Talan hadn’t appeared to notice, they were too busy flirting with one another, but as the floor shook for a second time – slightly longer and harder than before – my focus turned to Merlin. He was watching me with narrowed eyes.
An explosion of foamy white spray erupted out of the centre of the Round Table. The water gushed into the air, raining down like a heavy waterfall. Merlin, Talan and Guinevere were quickly lost. I could see nothing, not even the stone table. As the torrent continued, my feet were taken from underneath me. I somersaulted in the freezing water, hitting my head on something sharp in the process. My lungs burned with the pain of holding my breath. I was completely submerged, with no idea of which way was up.
I had to get to the doors to the Great Hall. If I could open them, then the water would flood out.
But we hadn’t shut the doors, I thought. They should still be open. So why isn’t this torrent from the table draining away?
This wasn’t real, this was another vision. Water. Nimue.
“LEAVE ME ALONE.”
I was on the cold, dry floor of the Great Hall. Guinevere and Talan had fallen back at the sound of my cry. Sweat was pouring down my face, but I felt exhilarated. The vision had ended on my terms, not Nimue’s. My sense of self had stayed with me, and I had beaten her.
A terrible howling scream shuddered through the castle. Every torch was blown out as a ghostly, pale blue wind tore into the Great Hall. It rose up through the table, before it circled a candle-filled chandelier. It flew down, wrapping itself around Guinevere, Talan and then me. Merlin thrust his staff into the wispy mass. I could feel ice cold fingers pinching at my skin.
“What is this evil?” cried Guinevere. She pulled a dagger from her ankle boot and started slashing at the blue wind. Her long blonde hair, like mine, was lashing against her face. Talan pulled his sword from its scabbard and started doing the same.
The Round Table was rocking in its foundations. Particles of dust were starting to rain down onto the stone floor.
“The magic of the table is not yours to undo, Nimue,” cried Merlin. “You have been banished from this court by order of the king.”
In a sweeping upward movement, Merlin somehow caught the corporeal wind and wrapped it around his glowing staff. It looked like pale blue candy floss on a stick.
There was another scream, and the end of the staff exploded into shards of silver. It shot out in all directions, and then fell down to the floor, where each shard became a patch of molten liquid. The stone sizzled, and the silver evaporated.
“Is she gone? Is she dead?”
“The Lady of the Lake is weakened, but not yet gone,” replied Merlin. A single tear traversed his raggedy lined face. “Why did it come to this, my Nimue?”
“But you can protect us from her?” asked Guinevere. “You can protect Lady Natasha?”
“I forged the Round Table,” replied Merlin, “and its deep magic cannot be controlled by the Lady of the Lake. Yet there is one weapon she does have power over. A weapon that is mighty and renowned, and currently in the hand of the king.”
“Excalibur,” said Talan.
“What does that mean?” I asked. “Can Nimue make Arthur use the sword against his will?”
“The Lady of the Lake has closed her mind to me,” replied Merlin. “I am unable to see her intentions.”
“But you knew I was going to have a vision just then, didn’t you? You were looking at me before it happened.”
“I can sense Nimue’s presence in you, Natasha, Lady Knight of the Round Table, as well as that of another. I believe, that in the end, it will be you that determines the fate of Logres.”
“How can I determine the fate of an entire kingdom?”
With an impatient wave of his hand, Merlin swept from the room.
“Who was I, Merlin?” I yelled. “You have to tell me who I was before.”
“You are too preoccupied with the past. It will reveal itself to you only when you are ready. You must see past the present, and into the future. This is your time, and the sooner you realise this, the better all our futures will be.”
“The old man is nuts,” I said, as his voice echoed into the darkness. The moonlight, streaming in through the stained-glass windows, was now the only light we had.
“The old man is the wisest counsellor this land has ever known, Lady Natasha,” said Talan, “and his words of Excalibur fill my heart with fear for the king.”
“What will we do, Sir Talan?” asked Guinevere. “Can we warn the king?”
“We could send a messenger, but Arthur and the travelling court will be here in the morrow. I see little to gain by sending someone out into the night. You should both rest.”
“I couldn’t sleep now even if I wanted to,” I replied, walking over to one of the windows. I peered out through a clear section of thin, warped glass.
There was a small figure, tiny like a child, walking in the moonlight. I couldn’t see if it was a boy or girl, because it was dressed in a red cloak. I immediately thought of Little Red Riding Hood, and then wolves.
“There’s a kid out there on the lower battlement,” I called to Guinevere and Talan. “We should get it inside, especially if there are dwarf-riders out there.”
The figure then turned, pulled the hood down, and looked straight up at me.
I screamed.
“GUINEVERE...GUINEVERE...”
“What is it, Lady Natasha?” she cried.
“IT’S BYRON.”
Guinevere rushed to my side as Talan sprinted from the Great Hall.
Please don’t be a vision, I begged to myself, as I waited for Guinevere to say something. Byron raised his hand and then slipped into the shadows.
“You saw him? Please tell me you saw him?”
“I saw him,” whispered Guinevere, and she slumped to her knees.
Talan returned a while later. Guinevere and I were still sitting on the cold stone floor. He had two frayed blankets with him. Guinevere placed her head on my lap and was asleep within seconds.
“Did you find him?” I asked.
Talan shook his head. “There was no sign, and the guards swore they had seen no man, large or small, on the battlements.”
“I’m not making it up, Guinevere saw him as well.”
“Byron was our eyes and ears amongst the Gorian druids for many, many moons, Lady Natasha,” he whispered, taking a seat on the floor next to me. “Both before the enchanted sleep, and after. It is foretold that to travel using the blue flame, to see through time itself, is a curse. My fear is that our brave friend is not at peace.”
“But David saw faint footprints, leading away from Byron’s grave. Do you think we got it wrong? That he wasn’t dead?”
“There are times when we must listen to our head and not our heart, Lady Natasha,” replied Talan. “So tell me, what does your head advise?”
Way too much most of the time, I thought, but I understood what Talan was getting at. That even in this land of the fantastical, people couldn’t rise up from the dead.
“We’re seeing and hearing his ghost, aren’t we?”
“I believe that Byron’s restless spirit senses his work here is not yet done. Only then will he truly rest in peace.”
I put my head on Talan’s shoulder and closed my eyes. The rise and fall of Guinevere’s breathing felt like a wave beneath my hand. Softly, Talan started to sing. Bright lights, like tiny stars, twinkled in the veiled darkness. Fingers touched mine, and I surrendered to the feeling of home.
Chapter Six
A Sister Returned
“What the hell did you think you were doing?”
I woke with a start – as did Talan and Guinevere. Talan and I both yelped as our heads smacked together, and then Guinevere jumped to her feet and stood on my fingers, crushing them beneath the sole of her muddy boot.
“We can explain, sire,” cried Guinevere.
With my head still smarting from where it had cracked against thick Irish bone, and with my fingers probably broken in fifteen places, I got to my feet. My right leg was throbbing and itching from the arrow wound, but the fire had gone.
“WELL?” Arthur was alone; he always looked younger without friends surrounding him. It made him look vulnerable.
“Don’t shout, Arthur,” I replied, stretching my back. “Do you know what time it is?”
“How would I know?” yelled Arthur. “I haven’t got a clue what century we’re in anymore, let alone the time, and don’t play dumb with me, little sis, because I know you’re anything but. What the hell were the three of you doing, riding off like that?”
“It was my doing, sire,” said Talan, stepping forward.
“No it wasn’t, it was mine,” said Guinevere.
“You know damn well it was mine, Arthur,” I said, pulling them both back. “I had to get to Merlin, and if you stop yelling for five seconds, I’ll explain everything.”
“I’ve been out of my head with worry, Titch.” Arthur wasn’t calming down. He was starting to turn blue from lack of oxygen. “There are monsters out there, and you’re ill and yet you still go off on your own.”
“I wasn’t alone. I had Talan and Guinevere with me.”
Arthur turned to Talan. For a moment I thought Arthur was going to punch him.
“Bedivere is spitting blood. What were you thinking? She was seriously hurt, Talan.”
“I was repaying a debt to Lady Natasha...”
Then the huge doors to the hexagonal hall flew open, and in stormed Bedivere. Both Gareth and Tristram were trying to hold him back, but he threw them off like they were made of feathers. He pulled his sword out with his left hand. It was pointed directly at Talan.
“I will make you wish you had never been born, Sir Talan,” he roared.
“Don’t you dare,” I cried, placing myself in front of Talan.
“I am at peace with my actions, Sir Bedivere,” replied Talan, also drawing his sword, which was much darker in colour than Bedivere’s. “I do not wish to fight you, but I will not walk away from your challenge. Yet answer me this: do you believe Lady Natasha would not have left of her own accord if Lady Guinevere and I had not agreed to go with her? And what harm would have come to her person if she had made the journey to Camelot alone? I love you like a brother, sir, and my intentions were nothing less than honourable. Lady Natasha was determined to find the sorcerer Merlin. You, of all people, know she has a stronger will than any other man, woman or child in Logres. I desired to protect her, nothing more, nothing less.”
“And if you want to challenge Sir Talan, you will have to fight me too,” added Guinevere, and she walked straight up to Gareth, pulled his sword out of its scabbard and pointed it at Bedivere.
“Did I not say that a Lady Knight of the Round Table would prove troublesome?” muttered Tristram. “And now there are two of them.”
Bedivere stopped glaring at Talan and turned his gaze to me. I smiled, and tried that
coy looking-through-the-eyelashes thing that Guinevere was so good at. It worked, because Bedivere lowered his sword and shook his head.
“You will be the death of me, Natasha,” he said gruffly.
“I think you’re off the hook,” I whispered to Talan, before leaping forward to kiss Bedivere.
“Don’t blame them. They were looking out for me. I had to get to Merlin.”
“And yet you could not ask me? I would travel to the ends of the earth for you. You know this.”
Tell them now. You have to tell them now. There will never be a better time than this.
My inner voice was right. Even though I still didn’t know the whole truth, I had to tell Arthur and Bedivere what I was seeing in the visions. I felt incomplete. A part of me was missing, and I had no choice but to search for it. It would be better for all of us if I was just honest.
“I need to speak to Arthur and Bedivere alone,” I said. “Could everybody leave us for a few minutes?”
Guinevere gave Gareth back his sword and smiled. She could totally pull off that coy looking-through-the-eyelashes thing way better than I ever could. Talan nodded to Bedivere, and I was happy that Bedivere returned the gesture. They all left the hall, and the doors closed with a solid thump.
“What’s going on, Titch?”
“I need to tell you what it is I see when I have the visions. Merlin is still keeping some of the truth from me, and I don’t quite know why yet, but I’ve seen enough.”
“And these visions involve me and Bedivere, don’t they?” said Arthur intuitively. “This is why you panicked like an idiot and ran off?”
“I see myself – I feel myself – being burnt at the stake, Arthur. This is why I scream and thrash about on the floor when I’m unconscious. But the reason I need Merlin’s help is because when I have these visions, you are the one that orders it, and Bedivere is the person who lights the fire
.”
Bedivere pulled away from me. His face was stricken.
“Then these visions are lies. I would never hurt you – I have never hurt you. I would die before I allowed you to come to harm.”
Arthur looked even worse than Bedivere. He now had deep worry lines etched across his forehead, something he had never had before. Logres was ageing him. I was ageing him.
“You ran away from us because you thought we were capable of killing you?”
“I didn’t run away because I thought you would hurt me. Not in this time, Arthur.”
“Then why...?”
“I ran away because I thought you had hurt me. In a previous time. You’ve been here before, Arthur, you know you have. You remember it, and so do I - now. I walk around this castle and can see what’s behind every door before it’s opened. I know faces, names. Everything is familiar, and it becomes clearer every day I spend in this world. Something in me was here a thousand years ago, Arthur. Before the Battle of Camlann, before the enchanted sleep.”
I turned to Bedivere. “You said before that you couldn’t remember me. So that’s why I must get Merlin to explain this, because it’s all here, in my head. I see it, I feel it.”
“But why would we try and kill you, Titch?”
“You did kill me, Arthur, or rather the person I was back then.”
“I’m not listening to any more of this crap,” snapped Arthur. “I’ve always stuck up for you against everyone. Friends at school, our parents, I even take your side when you’re fighting with Sammy, and yet you think I could kill you?” He looked close to tears, and it scared me, because I had never seen Arthur like this, not even when Patrick died. Bedivere had gone white, and was looking at me as if he didn’t know me at all.
You need Merlin.
“Summon Merlin,” I begged. “Please, Arthur. He’ll listen to you.”
“I doubt that very much. I’ve ridden through the night to get here, and you throw this crap at me. I’m going to find Sammy and Mila.” Arthur started to walk away.
Tell him your name was Gwenddydd.
Not now, please. Not now.
