by Donna Hosie
Guinevere jumped onto the bed and unlaced her long boots. She threw them into a corner, knocking over a water jug in the process. She leant back on the pillows and eyed me suspiciously.
“What were you and the king discussing, Lady Natasha? Come, tell me. I need a quest, an adventure, for I will die of boredom and restlessness if I remain here too long with the likes of Lady Fleur for conversation.”
“I do have a quest actually,” I replied. “If you’re up for it?”
Guinevere sprang forward with a hungry gleam on her pretty face.
“Does it involve knights and daring deeds? Pray tell me that it does not involve chickens? I have to vanquish that carving from the Round Table. I want a giant, or a chimera, or some other vile creature that requires slaying. Chickens are a fool’s seal on the table.”
“Do you trust me?” I replied.
“Of course.”
“Because I can’t tell you right now. But I do need you to be ready to leave Camelot in a few days. It’ll be the two of us, Bedivere, Tristram, Gareth, Talan and David. I’m going to ask Lucan to come as well, and we’ll need Taliesin to help look after Bedivere…and I need Byron to follow us,” I added quickly.
Up until that point, Guinevere had been studiously nodding to every name I mentioned, but once I said Byron’s, her face changed. Her forehead furrowed, and her mouth opened just enough to show her slightly crooked top teeth.
“We cannot control that which even death has no command over, Lady Natasha.”
“Then I need you to will it hard enough,” I replied. “Somehow, I need him to follow us. Talan believes that your brother has unfinished business here. So let’s help him finish it.”
“What are we doing? Where are we going?”
“I can’t tell you, not yet,” I replied. “This is more for your protection than mine. There are people out there that could hurt you for information. You saw what Mordred and the Gorians did to Gareth.”
“But what about you, Lady Natasha? You have the gift of sight, and the sorcerers have played with you like a cat plays with the mouse. How can you keep them away?”
“Please trust me.”
“I do, without question, and if our quest brings my brother peace, then let us not tarry a day longer. Let us depart now.”
Guinevere had already rolled off the bed and was pulling her boots back on. A dark grey mouse scuttled across the stone floor and started to brazenly nibble on one of the long laces. She flicked it away, and then reached up to grab a chunk of holey cheese from a wooden plate next to the displaced water jug. The mouse quickly ran off with the cheese, and disappeared under the bed.
“We can’t leave now, Guinevere, but can you do me a huge favour?” I asked. “Can you get the knights to Bedivere’s room? I’m sure with your powers of persuasion it should be easy.”
“But I am not permitted to state our quest, our destination, or even what day we leave?”
“Got it in one.”
“And what of the king? If we are to take his best knights, will that not leave him unprotected?”
“Arthur has more than enough knights covering his back, and he’ll have Merlin as well.”
“So the king is to remain here?”
“I thought you said you trusted me?” I said. “Stop asking questions – you sound like my mother.”
“Then I will take your leave, Natasha, Lady Knight of the Round Table,” said Guinevere, with a wicked smile, “until I have gathered those knights to my side. And what a hardship that will be.”
I made my way to the physicians’ rooms. The taste of sulphur in the air burnt the inside of my throat. There were bangs and small explosions rocking the whole wing.
Talan and Lucan were sitting by Bedivere’s bed. The Irishman was plucking away at a stringed wing-shaped box which was lying on his lap. It was the strangest instrument I had ever seen. It was made from solid wood and had fifteen strings hooked across it.
“I thought the wonder of music would help Sir Bedivere in his recovery,” said Talan. “Yet I fear he does not see beauty in the
psaltery .”
“Natasha,” called Bedivere. His beautiful eyes had more colour, as did his cheeks, but his lips were pale and cracked.
“How are you feeling?” I asked softly, instinctively moving around to the right side of his bed so I could hold his hand.
“I will feel better once Sir Talan ceases that infernal caterwauling,” he replied, but he was smiling.
“Sir Bedivere,” replied Talan. “You are a captive audience. Others have the gift of healing, but I daresay that my gift will have you on your feet and running quicker.”
“Would you like us to leave, Lady Natasha?” asked Lucan. “I can drag Sir Talan away by his hair if I have to.”
“Actually I need you all to stay here,” I replied. “Guinevere is rounding up the others. We have a quest.”
Bedivere, who had been supine on the bed, jerked his shoulders and part heaved, part rolled himself up into a sitting position.
“A quest from the king?” he asked, with a grimace of pain. “You are not leaving as well, my love?”
“You’re coming with us,” I said, stroking his stubbly face.
“Lady Natasha, my brother is not yet well enough to be moved from the castle,” interrupted Lucan. “We are all eager to see him restored to the Round Table, but a quest now in his condition is folly.”
“I will go wherever Natasha goes,” replied Bedivere. “You will not stop me, brother.”
I raised my eyebrow at Lucan. “And this is exactly why we have to take him with us,” I said. “You know the second we leave, he will too, but on his own, which is way more dangerous.”
“You know my brother too well,” replied Lucan. He gave Bedivere an exasperated look. One that Arthur and I were so good at swapping.
“It’s only because I would do the same,” I said.
“So, what is our quest, Lady Natasha?” asked Talan. He still had that weird instrument on his lap, but his mind was now elsewhere, and he was monotonously plucking the same high-pitched string, over and over again.
“This is where it gets difficult, because I can’t tell you – and I can’t tell you why I can’t tell you.”
The door opened and in traipsed Tristram and David. Tristram was holding a bloody rag to his cheek.
“Lady Guinevere said our presence was required in Sir Bedivere’s chamber,” said David jovially. He was grinning from ear to ear.
“What happened to thee, Sir Tristram?” asked Talan. “You look as if you have been skewered by the cook.”
Everyone laughed, including Bedivere. I thought he would be depressed after renouncing his place at the Round Table, but it was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
“Never challenge Sir David to a joust when Lady Mary is watching,” replied Tristram. “My shoulders were nearly relieved of my head.”
“So Lady Mary remains at Camelot?” said Talan slyly. “Are those lovebirds I hear calling outside the window?”
“I am simply greater at the joust than Sir Tristram,” replied David, blushing furiously. “My audience was of little consequence.”
Bedivere had moved over to his left, and so I shimmied over and stretched my legs out next to him. He was still warm to the touch - too warm - and a moment of doubt crept into my mind. Was his recovery from such a horrific wound really going as well as I thought, or was there still some part of me in denial, hoping that everything could be normal again?
The door opened again. Guinevere and Gareth walked in. She had a white muslin bag in one hand, and a small brown hessian sack in the other.
“Sir Tristram and Sir David were absent from the dining hall tonight,” she said, placing the bags down on a long table that Taliesin used for examining the leeches and maggots, “and I know Lady Natasha has not eaten as she was conferring with the king in the Great Hall. So I took it upon myself to be the provider of the feast, as the Round Table has so graciously defe
rred upon me.”
“So where are the chickens?”
“When you say to the king, bite me, exactly which part of you does he sink his teeth into?”
Tristram slapped David on the shoulder. “Take care not to introduce Lady Mary to these two fine Lady Knights of the Round Table, Sir David. She will have you on reins and begging for mercy before the day is spent.”
“Perish the very thought,” replied David.
“So, Lady Natasha,” said Talan. “You were on the point of telling us our quest. A quest to somewhere unknown, for a reason unknown. I am intrigued.”
“I explained to Guinevere earlier that there is something really important I need to do, and I will need your help, because I can’t do it by myself. The problem is, we can’t risk those with magic finding out about this quest either. So I need you all to trust me, and just do as I ask. Can you do this?”
“Do we have the king’s blessing, or is this being kept from him as well?” asked Tristram.
“The king knows – I mean, Arthur knows,” I replied. “He and I will meet every evening to go over the details, but for now, it will only be the two of us who know the plan. We’ll tell you all when we arrive at our destination.”
“You are not leaving us to return to your land?” asked Talan.
“Me? Never,” I replied, and I felt Bedivere squeeze my hand.
“But what of your connection to the sorcerer, Merlin?” asked Tristram. “We do not have to speak words for our intentions to be known by those who possess the magical arts.”
“I have that taken care of.”
Tristram narrowed his eyes; he didn’t look convinced, but at least his eyes had more life in them than Gareth’s. His were so dark they were dead.
“When do we leave?” asked Lucan.
“In a few days.”
“And it is just those here present?” asked David.
“Plus Taliesin, if he will come.”
“He will come,” said Bedivere and Lucan together. Their voices were so similar it was listening to one in stereo.
“An unknowable quest,” said Talan thoughtfully. “I like the poetry of such an adventure.”
“We will place our trust in you, Lady Natasha,” said Tristram. “You have proven yourself a worthy addition to our brotherhood.”
“Hear hear,” said Lucan.
“And you will confide in us when the best moment presents itself?” asked David.
“As soon as possible,” I replied.
“Then let us start planning for that which we do not know,” said Talan, laughing. “May I bring the psaltery?”
“NO!” resounded across the room.
Only Gareth said nothing. His eyes were fixed firmly on the floor, as if he were trying to stare through solid stone.
“Sir Mordred is mine,” was all he said, but he muttered it so quietly, I think I was the only one who heard him.
Bedivere and I were left alone. The others went in search of song, food and someone called Lady Mary.
The room was getting darker. Four of the many candles had spent all their wax. It was hot and stuffy too, and I had opened the door to try and get some non-existent air to filter in.
“Thank you for not forsaking me, Natasha,” whispered Bedivere. He was trying to keep his eyes open, but his heavy lids were winning the fight.
“At least this way Taliesin and I can keep a watch on you,” I replied, wetting his face with a damp cloth.
“Do you think less of me, now I am no longer a Knight of the Round Table?”
“It won’t be for long,” I whispered back. “And even if you never sit at the table again, you are still the bravest, most beautiful person I have ever met.”
“Can you do one thing for me, Natasha?”
“Anything.”
“Watch Sir Gareth.” Bedivere’s voice was slurring; he was falling asleep. “He is not...himself.”
I stayed with Bedivere as he fell into a deep sleep. Occasionally his eyelids would flicker, and there was a slight smile on his lips. Perhaps that was mere wishful thinking. He needed nice dreams. I would happily give him mine. All I wanted was to keep him safe, but I knew I was taking a huge gamble with his health by taking him with us. We were going to battle with Nimue, a sorceress so powerful she had imprisoned Merlin and placed an entire kingdom in an enchanted sleep.
Please tell me you have a plan, Gwenddydd.
I do.
Care to share?
You will be my conduit to Merlin, once we are at the falls.
So I get my knights and you there. Arthur will get Merlin and the others there. And then we strike at her?
In seven days.
And you will keep Merlin and Nimue out of my head?
It will take all of my strength - and be warned, for you may weaken as a result.
The others will look out for me. And can you keep that witch Morgana out of my head – and my face, for that matter?
You need not fear, for I do not see Morgana in your future.
What do you see?
Do not think so much of the future. And remember the past is past. Concentrate on the here and now.
Spoken like your brother’s sister.
You will need to keep your wits about you. Do not allow yourself to be distracted, whatever happens. You must rid this land of the power of the Lady of the Lake. This is your destiny, Natasha. It is the reason we were brought together. I listened and suffered in silence, waiting for you to open the door that would release the two of us. Your voice became my voice, now my voice is yours. This is your time. My time. Our time.
Chapter Fifteen
Myths and Monsters and Magic
Over the next four nights, Arthur and I met in secret to go over the plans. With silvery moonlight streaming in through the stained-glass window, and with wax candles that looked like melting fingers, as the only source of light inside the Great Hall, my brother and I discussed, contradicted and argued with one another. I relied on Gwenddydd to protect me from Merlin’s mind games, and Mila was keeping Slurpy away.
Everyone was relying on Merlin’s hocus pocus to keep Nimue out.
Magic isn’t great, it’s complicated.
And it hurts.
By the fifth night, we had finalised everything.
“So let me run through this one more time,” said Arthur.
I slumped against the hard back of my chair, and rubbed my eyes.
“Arthur, we have this memorised now. It’s burnt into my brain.”
“One last time, Titch.”
“If you must.” I didn’t have the energy to argue. Strategic thinking was even more exhausting than physically doing something.
“Tomorrow night, you, Bedivere, Tristram, Gareth, David and Guinevere...”
“And Taliesin.”
“...and Taliesin will leave the castle by the western tunnels. You’ll head towards the woods where Talan, Lucan and Gawain will be waiting with the horses, a cart and supplies.”
“Yes,” I sighed. I was starving, and Arthur had made me miss dinner four times in a row.
“Then you’ll head towards the Falls of Merlin with Gwenddydd as your guide?”
“Yes, Arthur.” My sighs were becoming more dramatic. Was it really necessary to go through this – again?
“And you’re still hoping that the ghost, or whatever Byron is now, will follow you?”
I nodded. I was losing the will to live.
Arthur was grinding his back teeth together.
“Titch...”
“I know you don’t get it. I know you think that’s the weak point in the plan, but we aren’t in 21st century London anymore. We’re living a legend with myths and monsters and magic, and so can you please just have some faith that this will work?”
“I just think it’s dangerous to rely on a ghost to help you.”
“It’s a hunch, that’s all. Our main plan is to draw Nimue away from you, so you can get to the gateway back to the 21st century. If Byron’s spir
it follows, then that’s just a plus. The plan doesn’t rest on it. The main deal is to get Nimue and Merlin to the Falls of Merlin separately, but without knowing you’re also using the waterfalls to get away.”
“And to do that you need Excalibur?”
“It’s the only way. Nimue is bound by the magic of that sword. I will draw her to the falls with Excalibur. You’ll arrive separately with Merlin, the other knights, your ex-girlfriend or whatever she is now, and Mila, and while you get them back through the tunnel we came through, Gwenddydd - through me - will create a diversion.”
“And this is when we are expecting Merlin and Nimue to battle each other?”
“Yes. It’s the only way. Merlin wants revenge on Nimue. Gwenddydd says he will be able to use the power of the Falls of Merlin to his advantage.”
“But it’s water, Titch. Nimue is the Lady of the Lake. Why can’t we draw her into a big open field and use fire or something?”
“For crying out loud, will you listen to yourself? We’re not burning her alive. I won’t do it, Arthur.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...”
“By arriving at the same destination, but in different groups, no one will have any idea what we’re planning. I will distract Merlin, while you get Sammy and Mila to safety. You leaving, and me having Excalibur, will drive Nimue crazy, and Merlin will be so full of revenge against her that he will forget about you and his precious heir and will go after her. They can battle, Merlin wins, you come back, and I get some food - finally.”
“And the Knights of the Round Table will be there in case Mordred and the druids of Gore turn up?”
“Exactly.”
“There are a million things that could go wrong with this, Titch.”
“And it could all work perfectly, and it’s the best chance we have of getting rid of Nimue, and for you to get your ex-girlfriend and baby away from Logres at the same time.”
