by Donna Hosie
“Making medicine with elderberries is now regarded as witch folly,” replied Guinevere. She was looking out of the window; her thumb and forefinger were pressing down on her nostrils.
The smell of more burning had arrived with us.
Once washed and dressed in clean clothes, and the smell of the berries had been scrubbed away from my skin, Guinevere and I left the room and went to find Bedivere and Byron. We found the dwarf sitting on a stool beneath a long tapestry, which showed a large blue lake and a hand reaching out from its depths to grab a sword.
“Wow,” I whispered, gazing at the thickly-threaded image.
“The knight on the riverbank is Sir Bedivere,” said Bryon, jerking his thumb to the edge of the tapestry. “He threw Excalibur back into the water after the Battle of Camlann.”
“Excalibur doesn’t have jewels in it,” I said, looking at the blue, red and green diamond-shaped lumps on the tapestry.
“You have seen Excalibur?” said a deep voice behind me. I cricked my neck sharply as I turned around, and saw a tall man with curly chestnut coloured hair just feet away from us. He wore a long, blood red tunic edged in gold linked squares. A sword dangled at his side, and on one of his hands was a thick brown leather glove, which reached up to his elbow. His face was lined and scarred, and his right shoulder drooped several inches lower than the other side.
Guinevere curtsied. “It is an honour to be welcomed into your house, Duke Corneus.”
“Father,” called another voice, and I melted with relief as Bedivere came around the corner; his face lit up at the sight of me. “May I introduce Lady Natasha, sister kin of Arthur.”
“I was a loyal knight to King Uther,” replied Duke Corneus. “I was not aware of a Lady Natasha in the court.”
“I only came to Logres recently,” I replied. “Nimue showed me the way.”
The Duke’s eyes flickered to the tapestry and the arm in the lake.
“You are an ally of the Lady of the Lake?”
“My loyalty is to Arthur, your son and the knights that have shown me great friendship,” I replied in a shaky voice.
“Then you are welcome in my court, Lady Natasha,” said Duke Corneus brusquely.
My brain was thumping. My cleavage was sweaty. My arse was committing hari-kari. Five seconds later, I did puke with nerves.
“I thought that went very well,” said Byron with a grimace, as he threw dirt over the area where I had been sick. Bedivere was holding my hair back, and Guinevere was wiping my face with a cold cloth.
I said nothing. A voice was in my head again; I couldn’t tell if it was male or female, but it was repeating the same words over and over again.
Burn, baby, burn…
Chapter Fifteen
The Ghostly Battlement
I was introduced to Sir Griflet the next morning. He looked nothing like Bedivere, or his half-brother, Lucan. Sir Griflet was small and skinny, with dirty blonde hair cut into one of those mullet-type styles that you see on Southern guys who play the banjo a lot. I expected him to chew on a straw and speak with a drawl, but his voice was flat and monotone. He wasn’t too impressed with me, either. Griflet looked at my feet and knees like I was an alien: something inexplicable that had dropped from the sky and contaminated the ground. He wouldn’t look at my face at all.
“So how old do you reckon Griflet is?” I asked Guinevere, as we watched him swing his sword around the courtyard, stabbing at thin air like a child playing.
“Byron says Sir Griflet and Sir Bedivere were born within months of one another,” she replied. “Sir Bedivere at the start of the harvest, Sir Griflet at the end. Which family do you think got the more bountiful produce?”
She cackled just like her brother, and I nudged her with my elbow.
“That’s my boyfriend you’re talking about.”
“And a mighty fine…”
“Guinevere!”
“I’m just admiring his…”
“Well stop admiring. He’s mine.”
“I’m just saying it wouldn’t be a hardship if you wanted me to take him off your hands for a while. That said, we would need magic to remove your hands from him first.”
I grinned at the memory of that morning. I had slept in the same bed as Guinevere; Bedivere’s room was on another floor. Just as the roosters started crowing, Bedivere slipped into my room and we had made use of a chaise lounge in the corner. We had only kissed – thanks to Arthur and his stupid pregnant girlfriend, I was now terrified of getting any closer, and I had decided my clothes were definitely staying on for the rest of my life – but Bedivere’s mouth was so warm and fuzzy and his earlobes and neck were really suckable and…
“Lady Natasha.”
Fingers were snapping in my face.
“Sorry, Guinevere.”
“You have it bad.”
“Have what bad?”
“Love sickness.”
“I do not.”
“I’ve seen it on thousands of maidens, a thousand times. They see a Knight of the Round Table and all sensibility is forsaken. And if that love is returned, well…” Guinevere stuck her tongue out to the side of her mouth and rolled her eyes.
I nudged her again and she fell sideways onto the cobbles, laughing.
“There is much merriment to be had this morning,” said a voice. It was Lucan.
“Laughter is food for the soul,” replied Guinevere. “Perhaps you should tell the Duke that.”
“I will settle for the roasted belly of a pig,” said Lucan, “but it is joyous to hear the sound of a lady’s laughter in this court. It has been forsaken here for far too long.”
“Lucan, have you seen Bedivere?” I asked.
“My brother has ridden out to one of the outposts yonder way. I believe he was hoping for a message from Sir Gareth.”
It was a measure of how sore my butt still was that I was glad Bedivere hadn’t asked me to go with him.
“So, what are we to do with you, Lady Natasha?”
“Excuse me?”
“My brother has regaled tales of your daring. I fear life as a simple maiden of the court of Lindsey will not be of interest to you.”
“The court of Lindsey was good enough for Lady Fleur and the House of Solsbury. Why would it fail to match the expectations of the House of Avalon?”
I stiffened. Bedivere’s father had crept up on us, like an unpleasant smell.
“I spoke in jest only, father,” replied Lucan; his high cheekbones flushed.
“These are not times for jesting, Sir Lucan. The curse of witches comes ever closer, leaving death and plague on our lands. You will not be jesting when there is no food for your belly, and the only meat is carved from the horses that are too weak to carry you.”
Duke Corneus stared down at me and Guinevere. His irises were like dark green ink.
“Witches could be amongst us now, and we would not know it until every fool in the court was under their spell.”
I knew I was trembling. I thought back to our arrival yesterday, and the whip-like cracks that had hurt my eardrums, and the violent tremors in the earth. They had happened just as we had arrived - just as I had arrived. The Duke had witnessed everything from the tower.
He thinks I’m a witch, I thought.
“If it pleases your grace, I would like to show Lady Natasha the Room of Books,” asked Guinevere curtsying. “I have heard it is one of the most valued and sought-after collections beyond the walls of Camelot itself.”
“A merry suggestion,” added Lucan approvingly.
“You read, Lady Natasha?” asked Duke Corneus.
“Of course I can read,” I replied. “I’m studying literature back in…back in...back where I come from.”
The Duke raised a thick brown eyebrow, streaked with wiry silver hairs.
“A lady who studies the written word?”
Watch your mouth. He thinks you’re a witch, remember.
“Sir Bedivere said Lady Natasha was learned, father,”
said Lucan.
“A lady of the court has no reason to be learned,” called the bored voice of Griflet. He had stopped stabbing at thin air. “They do not need the art of reading or writing to sew a tapestry or keep a garden.”
“Gardening isn’t my thing,” I said. “I only end up killing everything.”
I could feel the sharp intake of breath from everyone else. What the hell was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I just smile sweetly and keep my stupid mouth shut? Joking about killing? C’mon. I was literally tying myself to the stake here.
Lady Fleur wouldn’t have said something as stupid as that. I bet Lady Fleur doesn’t need to read. I bet she made that tapestry of Bedivere and the Lady in the Lake. I bet she made that tapestry while gardening cabbages at the same time. I bet Lady Fleur can bake muffins, garden cabbages, and sew a tapestry with her toes while putting her make-up on.
“My head hurts,” I mumbled. “Perhaps I’ll look at the Room of Books when Bedivere is back.”
I wasn’t going to go anywhere without Bedivere now. He was the only one who really got me. Why hadn’t he asked me to go riding with him? Sore backside or not, anything was preferable to this inquisition. It was like being back at school and getting cornered by the cool kids who asked questions, not because they were interested, but because they hoped they would get an answer they could torture you with later.
“A walk perhaps, Lady Natasha?” asked Lucan. “The air outside is dark and close, but still preferable to the dusty confines of an old castle.”
I took up the offer gladly. We walked away. I could hear Guinevere’s voice behind me. She was telling Duke Corneus and Griflet about my stabbing at the hands of Archibald. She hadn’t been there, but it didn’t stop her from exaggerating my bravery and sacrifice for Bedivere. She was sweet to try, but I don’t think it made much difference because her voice suddenly stopped mid-sentence. I think the Duke and Griflet had gone off to find someone else to bully.
Lucan and I came to one of the small circular towers. Several bent shields were stacked up against the stones. Narrow steps ascended. I went first, watching my feet carefully as we climbed.
“You’re very nice to me, Lucan. I just want you to know that I appreciate it.”
“You are the true love of Sir Bedivere. From this day forth, we are brother and sister, Lady Natasha.”
“That’s really sweet, Lucan. So where are we going?”
“To the battlements. When the sun is smiling and the sky is as blue as the plumage on a kingfisher, the scene from the crenels is majestic to behold. One day, this will be yours and Sir Bedivere’s. I wanted to be the first to show you.”
But, of course, the sun wasn’t smiling, and the sky was the colour of mud. The air was cold and stifling, and I was sure I wasn’t imagining the smell from the burnings. It was everywhere now, like acrid charcoal. It was in my hair, on my fingertips. I couldn’t eat without tasting it.
I looked through one of the square dips cut into the battlement wall, which I presumed was the crenel that Lucan had mentioned. Across the dying grass I could see scores of tiny stone and wood huts, most with thatched roofs. Small figures were scurrying like mice in the mud, but no one seemed to want to stay outdoors for long. It was then I noticed glistening, dark green mould on the stonework. It looked like frog spawn, and it was moving down along the stone, like it had travelled up the outside of the castle and was now coming in over the battlement.
There was a young man standing on the battlement. I assumed he was a guard or another knight, but Lucan ignored him. The young man had long, white blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. I couldn’t see his clothes, because he was wearing a long blue cloak that matched the colour of the flag, lying limp against the pole of the largest tower. His hands were clasped around a spear, which was at a ninety-degree angle away from his body. His profile was hazy, distorted. At first I thought the magical fog was causing it.
And then Lucan walked straight through him.
I gasped, and the young man and Lucan both turned to me at the same time. The young ghostly knight was smiling, but not in a friendly way. He could see me and he knew I could see him. His eyes became white.
“I think we should go back down.” I started backing away.
The spear of the young man was now angled towards me. Only it wasn’t a spear. The wooden pole was smooth, but the head wasn’t made of flint or metal. It looked like knobbled glass that hadn’t been blown out properly in a glassworks. It started glowing with a yellow fire.
“Lucan, I want to go down.”
“Lady Natasha, what troubles you?”
My feet stumbled over the uneven bricks as I continued to back away. The yellow fire was coming closer, as the ghostly figure slowly started to walk towards me. I could feel the heat from the spear. My skin was starting to tighten and blister.
“Eternal night will fall upon Logres, and by the touch of his hand and the seed in her body, fire will be revealed and my wrath will awaken the dead.”
The voice from the ghost was so clear, so loud. How could Lucan not hear that? How could he not feel the blistering fire that was now just inches from my throat?
“Eternal night will fall upon Logres, and by the touch of his hand and the seed in her body, fire will be revealed and my wrath will awaken the dead.”
“Stop saying that,” I screamed, covering my ears with my hands. I knew the words because they had led me into Logres.
Lucan was standing just a few feet away from me. His face was frozen. I had seen it so many times before on my mother’s face. It was the expression people had when they watched a freak in action.
The ghostly figure stopped walking. His eyes were so white they shone like bulbs.
“You are not safe here, Natasha,” said the ghost. He reached out a pale, thin hand with extraordinarily long fingers, like the legs on a spider. “Come with me. I will keep you. I already have her. I will keep you both safe from the terror to come.”
Terror to come? What about the terror right now? I knew I wasn’t safe here, but now the ghosts in my head were right in front of my eyes.
“Lady Natasha,” cried Lucan suddenly. “Watch your step.”
Lucan made a lunge for me. The ghost disappeared with an ear-splitting crack, as a fork of lightning splayed outwards across the battlement. I remembered the first few seconds of falling as my feet stumbled on thin air, and then the crack of my head against the stone as my legs flew upwards. I started to tumble down the steps of the tower.
The ghosts fell silent.
Chapter Sixteen
Seize the Witch
Bedivere was close by because I could hear his voice. The sound of dripping water made me aware of the dryness in my mouth. Something heavy was on my back, pressing me into the ground. I couldn’t move. Everything was covered in chalky white dust. It was in my mouth, in my eyes. I knew I had to roll over and free my legs, but my spine was pushing my stomach into the dust. I was going to suffocate in it. The dripping started to quicken, and the earth and dust started to shake.
I opened my eyes. I wasn’t lying on my stomach, although my back ached with a heavy gnawing sensation. Thick wooden beams arched overhead, criss-crossing each other.
I wasn’t in a cave, but this room was strange to me.
“Where am I?”
A crinkled old face loomed into my line of sight. It was a man with a shock of white hair that made him look like a mad scientist. Tufts of hair were sprouting out of his pointed ears and wide nostrils.
“My name is Taliesin, Lady Natasha,” said the old man. His accent sounded Scottish. “I am the physician to Duke Corneus and the court of Lindsey. Sir Lucan and the dwarf’s sister brought you here. Do you remember?”
No, I couldn’t remember, but the aching in my head now matched the pain in my back. That was never a good sign. Something had happened to me. My fingers gently grazed my forehead and discovered padding: a bandage.
“Where’s Bedivere?”
I was alone wi
th Taliesin in a room that looked as if it had never been cleaned. Rows and rows of tall bottles and wide jars lined uneven wooden shelves. Dusty books were piled high on several tables. Several candlestick holders were being used as paperweights on piles of parchment, and in a corner was a series of glass tubes, that were bubbling away with a pale orange liquid above a small contained fire.
“Sir Bedivere has not yet returned, Lady Natasha,” replied Taliesin, shuffling over to the glass test tubes. “Sir Lucan has gone in search of him for he should have been back in the castle by now. It does no good to tarry outside in these unnatural dark times.”
The old man took a thin cloudy phial from a wooden stand and blew on it. I saw spit fly out of his gummy mouth and I cringed. Then, with a steady hand, he poured some of the orange liquid into the phial. It smoked and continued to bubble as he carried it over to me.
“This tonic will assist your healing, m’lady.”
I seriously doubted that, so I scrunched up my face and turned away.
“Can you get Guinevere?” I asked through pursed lips. That liquid wasn’t going anywhere near my mouth. I had packed painkillers before we left London. Guinevere would know where my things were.
“The dwarf’s sister is being held at the pleasure of the Duke,” said the physician grimly.
I tried to pull myself up and cried out as spasms of pain shot through the curve of my back.
“What do you mean…pleasure of the Duke?” I cried, trying to support my body weight on my elbows. “What’s he doing to her?”
“The dwarf’s sister is suspected of witchcraft. She is being held in the dungeons.”
“NO!” I screamed, ignoring the heaving pain in my stomach as I swung my legs off the low-lying couch. “Guinevere isn’t a witch. What the hell is wrong with you people?”
The door crashed open and Bedivere ran into the room. He was panting and slightly sweaty, his face drained of colour.
“They’ve taken Guinevere,” I cried.
