In Camelot’s Shadow: Book One of The Paths to Camelot Series (Prologue Fantasy)

by Sarah Zettel

  “So. You are come before me, little woman, little man. Come to invoke the ancient laws and beg a boon of Jack-in-the-Green?”

  Kerra kept her eyes on the patchwork carpet of leaves spreading at her feet. It did not do to look too long into the eyes of such as stood before her now.

  “Not to beg, my lord, but to honor.”

  “Honor?” The word sounded over Kerra’s head at once as soft as the rustle of leaves and as loud as thunder. There was humor in it, but there was danger as well. “What honor would you do me?”

  Do not look up. Do not seek his eyes. You will lose yourself in a heartbeat if you do. “The ones who rule this land now have forgotten you, my lord. They disdain the true ways and worship a foreign god. It is a disgrace that all of the true blood must feel. When I am queen in Camelot, you shall have shrines again. Great stone circles will be raised for you and your praise shall again be sung across the land.”

  “Do you seek to win my aid by bribery?” The humor and the danger both grew more marked. “Little woman, you will need to find another trick.”

  “It does not anger you to see this foreign worship displace you? When your followers are all converted, what will become of you?”

  The Green Man laughed. The sound poured over Kerra like a flood, rocking her backwards, almost, almost bringing her head up.

  “You believe it concerns me whose name is cried out in prayer?” He laughed again, a wondrous, terrible noise. “Jove came, Mithras came, now the White Christ comes, and the one his followers call Wotan. Let them come, it is of no moment. My place is the stone and the forest, the green grass and the deep places. There is no usurper who can lift me from them, no matter how loudly their priests chant to the heavens. Those whose blood and bones are old and of this earth will always know me, whether they know a name to call me by or not.”

  Shaken by the force of the old god’s laughter, Kerra could not find her tongue. It was Euberacon who spoke.

  “If you cannot be persuaded, you may yet be forced.”

  Silence, as terrible and as disorienting as the laughter had been fell, and for a moment Kerra feared they were both dead.

  “Little man, I know you,” said the Green Man softly. “Your summonings crowd the night with their noises. All with you is binding and imprisoning. All your thoughts are vengeance. Beware, lest you look so far to your goal you fail to see the step that takes you into your grave.”

  “Angels come to earth at my command. It is you that must beware.”

  Kerra closed her eyes, struggling to find her wits again.

  “Little man you come close to angering me. Let your woman lead you away. Your doom is closer than you think.”

  Kerra touched Euberacon’s arm. Her hand had gone ice cold. Be quiet, be quiet you fool. “We have not yet begged our boon,” she said.

  Did the growl come from the Green Man or from some wolf drawing near? Was that rustle overhead a raven’s wing, coming not in friendship but in anticipation of a kill?

  “It is your right according to the old bargains between your kind and mine. Speak then.”

  “There is a man, Gawain. He must bind himself to us, or die without any seeing our hand in his downfall.”

  “Must?” The very earth seemed to tremble beneath Kerra’s knees. “You are very free with that word.”

  It is your right. It is the law. Do not let go of that. “That is the boon we seek. You said yourself, lord, that you must hear. Gawain hides behind a shield of tarnished honor. Were his hypocrisy exposed, he would be helpless before it.”

  “You say Lot’s son Gawain is a false man?” The humor had returned, and something of curiosity. Kerra began to breathe more easily.

  “In his heart he is. I have seen it.”

  Does he smile? Does he frown? Her skin crawled with his nearness and her mind filled with the heady scents of summer, but also with the scent of blood that came with birth, and with death. “Then, woman, you will have an opportunity to prove it. With you, I’ll make a bargain, as you are of this land.” His disdain flickered toward Euberacon, and she heard the uncomfortable rustle of cloth. “I feel your roots deep within, I feel your lust for the powers and the secrets that are this land’s to give. I will bring Gawain to you. If you can prove him in any way false or cowardly, by my hand he will die.”

  “And if she cannot?” asked Euberacon. She had known him daring and disrespectful, but she had not known the strength of either aspect until this moment.

  “Then Gawain goes his way unhindered, and she,” this time she clearly heard the smile in his words and imagined his emerald teeth shimmering in the light that surrounded him, “Comes to me.”

  “Kerra?”

  “Gawain will come to me. I am in no danger.”

  “I do not like this,” Muttered Euberacon. Kerra glanced at the sorcerer. He too had directed his gaze downward, proving that he was not entirely a fool. His face was tight with anger, and other things she could not put a name to, but fear was most definitely among them. “It is dangerous to bargain thus with spirits. One must bind, or agree to be bound.”

  Impatience tightened Kerra’s hands. The presence of the Green Man was a weight on mind and body. She would not be able to bear up beneath it forever. The longer they stayed here, the greater the chance of some fatal mistake. Morgaine had been correct when she warned that the smallest slip could ruin all. “It is a risk. I know that well, but it will be worth it when we win.”

  “When we win,” sneered Euberacon. “I am glad that you risk my victory for yours.”

  “As you have done to me many times, my lord.” She spoke fast, trying to keep breath and thought under her own control. “Do we play this game, or find another? The barbarians you ordered me to set upon Camelot have failed us. That plan is unveiled. How many days do we have before Arthur and Merlin come for battle and find us alone in your ruin?”

  Perhaps he had an answer for that, but she did not give him time to voice it. “It is a bargain, my lord,” she said to the Green Man. “Bring me Gawain and I will show you how easily he breaks faith.”

  “What do you give to bind this bargain?”

  Without looking up, Kerra drew one of the long pins from her hair. She drove the pin into her finger until a drop of shining red blood welled up. The Green Man held out his hand. The scarlet drop fell onto his palm and his fist curled around it.

  “Done,” he said and his smile was wide, and despite all her certainties Kerra felt her heart shudder.

  Risa woke with the sun, feeling whole and well for the first time in what seemed an eternity. Gawain had left her awhile ago, with a long kiss that was both promise and reminder. The touch of it lingered with her still.

  A loud knock sounded on the door. “My lady?” called Jana’s voice, and that too was louder than necessary.

  “Come in.” It occurred to Risa to wonder where the maid had spent the night. It would be usual for her to sleep in the room with Risa … she would have to apologize and arrange for some gift as soon as she was able.

  Jana did seem put out, but perhaps not irretrievably so. She went about the tasks of getting Risa presentable with efficiency and care, but with rather more sighs and harumphs than Risa recalled from the previous day, especially when she once again had to comb out Risa’s hair. Risa was to join the hunt for the white hart, the queen had been quite clear on the matter. As it was impossible for Risa to ride with her hair unbound, Jana tied it into a braid, wound and pinned it tight and looped it into a netting trimmed with freshwater pearls. For a gown, Risa wore the last of the queen’s gifts; a dark green dress trimmed and girded with blue in a square pattern favored, it was said, by the ancient Romans. A simple white veil topped with a garland of fresh cherry blossoms — apparently a tradition for this hunt — completed her wardrobe. Her profuse thanks seemed to loosen the tight moue Jana had held her mouth in for most of the morning. She picked up the hooded cloak with which Risa had been supplied in the most likely event that the weather turned foul, and
followed along behind without a single audible sigh.

  Outside the great hall, the morning was bright with sun and nearly as warm as summer. Riders and horses were already assembling. Despite the crowd, Risa easily made out Gawain speaking to a younger man and holding the reins of a glossy black charger almost as large as Gringolet. He saw her and bowed, acknowledging her presence, but it was Queen Guinevere who came up to her first.

  She did not even give Risa time to kneel, but took her hands and gave her the kiss of peace.

  “God be with you, this morning, Lady Risa.” She said, her eyes shining, and Risa saw at once that the queen knew all had passed between her and Gawain, and moreover, she approved. “Welcome to our spring rite.”

  She was dressed in green, as were most of the others, lords and ladies both garlanded with flowers, and even a few early ferns and leaves. All did seem merry indeed and there was much teasing and laughter, along with exchanges of ribbons and similar tokens for kisses bestowed on hand, or on mouth.

  A new pair of figures strode from the hall. The first was the bishop, all in white and gold, an elaborately curling crook in his hand. A priest in plain robes followed, clutching a leather-bound Bible to him that was so large Risa was surprised there was only one man to carry it.

  Queen Guinevere sighed. “Forgive me. I must go mollify our bishop. He thinks this all a devilish and pagan ritual and frowns darkly upon it. We needs must all be blessed and sprinkled with holy water.”

  The queen breezed away, leaving Risa a bit breathless. She found herself looking around for another familiar face. Gawain was still among the lords and knights, deep in conversation with Kai and another she recognized as his brother Gareth. She did not feel up to facing Kai so held her place. Then she saw a wiry boy back among the ladies’ mounts holding Thetis’s reins. Her mare had been given a new green saddle-blanket and new harness hung with green ribbons. She looked uneasy in the great crowd, and Risa was glad to hurry to her side. The mare whickered in greeting, nuzzled Risa’s face and ears, and began searching her sleeves for treats.

  “How thoughtless of me, I’ve brought you nothing, poor neglected animal.” In truth, Thetis looked in excellent health and had been as well groomed by the stable hands as Risa had by the waiting ladies.

  A shadow fell across her. Risa turned and her good humor sank away. Agravain on horseback towered over her. The look on his face left her no doubt that he had heard of Gawain’s proposal to her, as well as the king’s approval of it.

  She took refuge behind manners. “My Lord Agravain.” She curtsied politely.

  “Lady Risa.” He returned a small bow from the saddle. They stared at each other for a moment, Agravain’s fingers twining restlessly in the horse’s reins. “It is my understanding you are to be betrothed to my brother.”

  “It is so.” Did you think your brother a liar? Risa could not believe Gawain had left it to anyone else to tell Agravain what he meant to do.

  “I suppose, then, you expect my congratulations.”

  Risa chose her words carefully, hoping formality might provide an acceptable cloak for honesty. “I expect nothing, Sir. I only hope that one day you and I may greet each other in peace and felicity as brother and sister.”

  Risa was completely unprepared for the look of utter poison that formed on Agravain’s face. For a moment is seemed his venom struck him dumb. At last though, he said, “My brother will have surely told you, lady, I lack the capacity for felicity.” Then he wheeled his horse about and returned to the head of the procession.

  Mother Mary, grant him patience, and grant the same to me, thought Risa as she watched him depart. The circumstances of the betrothal were highly unusual to say the least. Seen philosophically, it reflected well on Agravain that he was concerned at his brother’s choice of wife. It was only discourtesy, and that could be born.

  Gawain looked toward her over the heads of the assembly, his mouth set in a frown. Risa lifted her hand to him, letting him know she was well. He nodded his acquiescence and continued his business.

  If this is how we begin, by the time our first babe is born, we will not need words at all. That seemed a delightful prospect to Risa, to be always beside one with whom she could communicate heart to heart.

  She thought wistfully of her mother then, wishing she could see that all was now well with her daughter. She would know soon. The queen’s messenger would reach her in another two days.

  Around Risa, the noise was fading. Arthur and Guinevere, hand-in-hand, mounted the steps to stand before the bishop. King and queen, followed by their entire assembly, knelt to receive the blessing, which was delivered in a voice loud enough to carry all the way to Heaven, and there was rather more holy water than Risa herself would have thought necessary. Slightly damp, but beaming to each other for all that, Arthur and Guinevere mounted their horses, which gave leave to the rest of them to do the same. The procession was formed according to rank, with the knights immediately behind the king and queen, and the ladies making a colorful train behind them. Banners, ribbons, servitors, guards and leashed hounds flanked them. Arthur blew a long, curling note on his horn, and all the court rode out through the great gates.

  The whole of Camelot had given itself over to celebration of the Feast Day. Flowers and greening branches decorated every door and a goodly number of the people. The drink was already flowing and toasts were raised with the cheers as the procession from the great hall rode past. Arthur frequently clasped his queen’s hand and raised it high, and whenever he did so the joyous clamor redoubled. By the time they reached the city walls, Risa’s ears were fairly ringing.

  Outside Camelot’s walls, the procession became much less formal, lords and ladies mingling freely. Laughter and gaiety sounded on all sides. Even the animals seemed in a merry mood. The dogs strained at their leashes with their gamboling and nosing about, despite the efforts of their masters. Aging Thetis, egged on by the presence of the younger, lighter horses, stepped high and held her head erect and proud.

  With all we’ve come through together, you should be proud. Risa patted her mount’s neck and grinned. In truth, setting aside her conversation with Agravain, the only blemish to the morning was that returning to the saddle revealed she was still tired and sore from all that had occurred before she arrived in Camelot.

  That discomfort could not keep her from smiling and enjoying the green and peaceful land spreading around her. Ahead waited the fringes of the wood, which would be littered with broad meadows broken by clusters of young trees. Perfect country for deer, even a mystical white hart.

  Gawain was not slow to take advantage of the abandonment of formality and reined in his horse until Risa caught up with him.

  “My lady seems in a festive mood,” he remarked, putting his steed into step beside Thetis.

  “And who would not be on such a day?” She gestured expansively at the blue sky. The clouds were huge and white, but seemed inclined to wander individually about rather than clustering together to make a storm.

  Gawain squinted at the sky, and then at Risa. “Ah, is that the cause? I thought perhaps my lady had received some piece of good news.”

  Risa blinked. “Nothing in particular that I can recall my lord. Have you heard of something?”

  “No, not I lady, but then, I pay no attention to gossip.”

  “A wise policy.” Risa nodded soberly.

  They looked long and steadily at each other, almost daring one another to smile, until Risa could bear it no longer and broke into a fit of giggles. Gawain joined her in a long, hearty laugh. The horses whickered, as if finding their own enjoyment in the joke, which only made their riders laugh harder.

  When she could speak again, Risa asked, “How is the white hart hunted?”

  “Largely as you see.” Gawain gestured at the relaxed and festive riders around them. “We will ride, we will enjoy the sun, which has kindly agreed to show itself, and then we will return to the hall for the feasting.”

  “A pleasant pr
ospect.”

  “Will you ride to the hunt with us?”

  She thought about merrily racing Thetis through the woods and meadowlands, trying to keep pace with Arthur’s cadre and such ladies as felt bold enough to join the race. Even with the thought that she would be beside Gawain the whole time, it was all she could do to keep from wincing. “I would, my lord, by I fear the exercise would bring glory neither to myself, nor my poor horse.”

  Gawain nodded, his face creased in sympathy. “It is my intent to dare the jibes of my foster uncle Kai and return early to the company of the ladies. I trust this will not displease you.”

  “On the contrary, my lord, I shall look forward to it.”

  “And there is where you may take your ease to anticipate this and many another happy event.”

  An entire flock of snowy pavilions seemed to have landed in the middle of the meadow. The servitors hurried forward with steps for those who wished to dismount, and wine cups for those who intended to ride to the hounds. Risa dismounted and allowed a groom to take Thetis’s reins.

  She turned to take her leave of Gawain. “I have no sleeve or ribbon to give you for luck, my lord.”

  “Well, then I fear you must give me a kiss, my lady.” Gawain leaned down. With serious decorum, Risa kissed him on the cheek. Around them rose guffaws of laughter although by the time Gawain turned to glower, all faces were perfectly serious.

  Oh, he will claim payment for this later. Risa smiled as she dropped her eyes and folded her hands to make herself into the image of maidenly modesty.

  When she risked a glimpse up, Gawain bowed solemnly to her, and winked. Then, he turned his horse and trotted to the head of the procession to take his place beside the king and queen. She felt, rather than saw Agravain staring at her and sighed. They said time was a great healer. She could only hope that would prove true between the two brothers.

  “Lady Risa.” Lady Marie strolled up beside her, apparently having seen she stood alone. “Are you joining us while these others tear their clothing and the countryside to pieces?”