by Donna Hosie
“I wish I could see how this ends for real. Nimue keeps showing me visions of fire and water. She burns me in my nightmares, Bedivere.”
“They are visions only, Natasha. There is no reason why they should come to pass.”
“I think I was burnt as a witch before. The pain feels too real.”
Bedivere was holding his head in his hands.
“I am failing you. I will call for Merlin. His counsel is far greater than mine.”
“I don’t want Merlin. I just need you.” Prising his fingers away from his head, I kissed each one. “Keep your eyes on Arthur, and tell the others to do the same. Tristram knows what Arthur’s girlfriend is capable of – he’s always known. Arthur’s blind to it, and I can’t fight them both.”
I wanted it to stop. I wanted it all to stop.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Battle of Mount Badon
I had to tip the dirty bath water away myself. I was too embarrassed to let anybody else help. The greasy water looked as if someone had been soaking the roasting pans from a kebab shop in it.
A maid came in with clean clothes: a crimson red tunic, and soft brown trousers that were clearly made for a child because they were so tight. I sat on a pile of cushions and laced up my sneakers. A strange niggling feeling was irritating me. Something was familiar, but I couldn’t place what it was.
A maid came in to brush and plait my hair. She tried to put some dried-looking flowers into the braids, which just made me look like a beauty pageant reject. The second she was gone from the tent I pulled them all out.
From the noise coming from outside it was clear the camp was almost ready to leave, but I was just stalling for time.
“May I enter, Natasha?” called a gruff voice from the entrance.
“Bedivere, you’re the one person who doesn’t have to ask,” I called back. “You have seen me naked before.”
“He better bloody not have,” yelled Arthur, who sounded like he had inhaled helium.
Were those two ever apart?
“What do you want, Arthur?”
“To tell you to get a move on because we’re leaving. The Ddraig has been seen.”
“What about Guinevere?” I yelled back. “I’m not leaving without her.”
“Guinevere has arrived,” replied Bedivere; he was still outside the tent with my brother.
“I know what you’re playing at, Titch. Now quit stalling. We’re leaving to rescue Sammy now.”
I pulled back the flap to the tent and blinked into the sunlight. Hundreds of men on horseback were forming two processions. Tasselled banners were flapping in the breeze and all displayed the same red dragon. It was quite an impressive sight, like a carnival.
“Are you rested?” asked Bedivere; he wrapped his arm around me.
“Well, I’m clean for once. Now, you know what we need to look out for,” I whispered, reaching up to kiss his cheek.
“Sirs Tristram, Gareth, Talan, David and Lucan are with us,” he replied, squeezing me tightly. “Our guard will not be lowered.”
I was given my own horse and – praise to the Goddess of Padding – it came with a saddle of sorts. Okay, it looked like a gold lamé cushion, and something you would find hanging up in your great-aunt’s closet, but it was comfortable. Guinevere was given one as well, and after we had hugged out our happiness at being back together, we had a pillow fight. It was funny, if only for the look on David’s face, as we smacked each other around the head until tears of laughter streamed down our cheeks.
Guinevere rode beside me, but I was amazed she managed to stay on her horse. When she wasn’t gazing at Gareth, she was eyeing up Arthur.
Myth isn’t fact.
“Sir Mordred and the Gorians have moved camp,” said Tristram. “Their folly has been to move closer to the travelling court of Camelot. The red Ddraig of Arthur was sighted just five leagues to the east.”
“They were heading for Camelot?” cried Talan in his thick Irish voice. “Surely not.”
“What is Sir Mordred’s intent?” asked Gareth. “Surely he does not wish to claim Camelot for himself.”
“I believe his intent, for now, is closer to the hearth,” replied Tristram.
“He wants my sister,” said Arthur flatly.
“And I will remove his head before he has had time to blink,” growled Bedivere.
“Why on earth does he want me?”
“You are quite the prize, Natasha, Lady Knight of the Round Table,” said Merlin. The magician was sitting on a cart, which was being pulled by two very nervous chestnut horses. “Sir Mordred had his sights on marrying you, and thus making himself the natural heir to Camelot - or at least he did before another heir revealed itself.”
“But Sammy and the baby are with him,” exclaimed Arthur, shouting above the sound of hooves on stones. “He could hurt my kid and still come after Titch.”
“This is why you must put an end to Sir Mordred’s ambition, once and for all,” replied Merlin. “Camelot will never be secure whilst Sir Mordred is free to roam the land of Logres.”
“But the last time...” I stopped mid-sentence. I knew what I wanted to say, but it sounded so ridiculous: that according to the legend, Arthur and Mordred fought at the battle of Camlann. King Arthur had been so badly hurt, he had been taken to the magical Vale of Avalon and had never been seen again...
Until now.
Looking at Bedivere and Gareth, I jerked my head to the left to get them to break away from the rest of the group.
“You can’t let Arthur fight Mordred. Not after last time.”
“Sir Mordred will not be given the occasion to ride close to you or Arthur,” replied Bedivere. “This will be over before the full procession of knights has ridden onto the field of battle.”
“You saw what the Gorians did to the Solsbury Hill monastery,” I replied. “They destroyed it and left it in ruins. And they didn’t even enter Camelot for the battle last year.”
“Lady Natasha, you need not fear,” said Talan; he had followed us. “Before the moon is risen, we will be singing a new song to glory in yet another victory by King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table.”
Talan’s pronouncement induced whoops, cheers and a general chorus of male showing off.
Do not forget the women. Never forget the women.
Nimue and Slurpy Morgana. The three of us were like a toxic triangle.
As we continued to ride on to meet Mordred and his army, the full effect of the darkness became apparent. Rotting animal carcasses lay everywhere, and now the sun was back, the stench quickly became unbearable. Insects were also awakened, and were busy dive-bombing everything in sight, from the blackened flesh of dead cows, to me.
A horse galloped towards us. The knight pulled off his silver chainmail and saluted Arthur and Bedivere.
“Hail, King Arthur. Hail, Sir Bedivere,” announced Bedivere’s half-brother, Lucan. “The red Ddraig is moving ever closer to the travelling court of Camelot. Sir Mordred rides to meet us head on. Our factions will join on the edge of Mount Badon.”
“So, Sir Mordred finally plots with his head,” replied Tristram. “His forces may be small in number, but they will see us coming within two leagues.”
“Sire,” said Bedivere. “We need a diversion to draw the magic of the Gorians away from the main attack.”
“What do you suggest, Bedivere?” replied Arthur.
“Sir Lucan and Sir Tristram take two groups of knights and attack from opposing ends. The remainder, led by you, attack from the position we hold now.”
Every muscle I possessed had twisted itself into a painful knot. I looked down at my hands, and realised I had wound the reins around my hands so tightly, I was in danger of cutting off my own blood supply.
“Arthur, this is insane,” I said. “There has to be another way. You can’t put everyone in danger just for your girlfriend.”
“If you’ve got another suggestion, then I’ll gladly hear it, Titch.”
&n
bsp; Merlin was laughing as he bounced up and down in the cart. I wanted to throw something sharp at his head as my mind went blank.
“Then we’ll go with Bedivere’s plan,” snapped Arthur. “I’m getting Sammy back now.”
Tell him again. Tell him about the blue flame that she threw at you in the forest. Tristram will support you. She isn’t being held captive at all. She could walk out of there now with the power she has.
“How do you even know that they won’t give Slurpy...Sammy over if we ask them? She isn’t as weak and pathetic as you make out. Isn’t that right, Tristram?”
But Tristram said nothing, and this made Merlin laugh even harder. And then I realised.
They want the fight. They want to go into battle.
“You boys are pathetic,” I cried. “Well, I won’t let more people die, not if I can help it.”
Kicking my heels into the horse, I galloped away. We were in open countryside. The ground was still scorched and hard, which made the ride painful, but I had to get to the other side first. They would listen to the daughter of a diplomat.
Several horses were charging behind me, desperate to catch up. Tucking my knees and elbows in even closer, I urged the horse to go faster.
High in the sky, a swooping mass suddenly caught my eye. It was bright red.
“Natasha,” cried Bedivere.
“I won’t let more people die for us.”
The Ddraig screeched, as a blast of long orange flame shot out of its mouth. It swooped towards me and I ducked, smacking my nose against the solid neck of my horse. Two horrible leathery wings sent the red Ddraig soaring high into the sky, where it roared its presence to everyone. It had quadrupled in size since I had first seen it by the Falls of Merlin.
People were moving on the ground ahead of me. This must be the place they called Mount Badon, although it didn’t look particularly mountainous to me. I could see figures dressed all in black, moving like ants in the distance.
“TITCH,” yelled Arthur. “Have you lost your mind? Get back here now.”
But Arthur wasn’t my father - and I never listened to him anyway.
My horse was glistening with sweat, but it galloped on, enjoying the freedom of an open run with the light from the sun streaming down on us. I knew the horses behind me were catching up. The heavy sound of hooves thundering into the ground vibrated through my bones.
“Find Sammy,” yelled Arthur, as he drew level. “Mordred is mine.”
Arthur’s jet black horse overtook mine. Its legs were flying, barely touching the ground. I looked behind me, and saw Merlin’s staff raised into the air. It was pulsing with an orange light.
Deep laughter rang in my head, mocking me.
“He isn’t worth it, Arthur,” I cried. “Mordred isn’t worth it.”
But what I really meant was she wasn’t worth it.
Bedivere, Talan and David had drawn level. I could see Tristram and Lucan veering off, one to the left, one to the right. Arthur was now the length of a swimming pool ahead of me, and the black figures were now riding out towards us.
Not the blue flame, not the blue flame, I repeated over and over in my head, somehow believing I could influence Mordred and the Gorians just by wishing it enough.
If Mordred wants you, he won’t risk hurting Arthur with the blue flame, if you are next to him.
I screamed at Arthur to slow down. Slamming my thighs into the horse, I spurred it on, trying to squeeze one last burst of energy.
But it was too late. I could see balls of blue flame growing in front of the Gorians. The spherical weapons looked almost white under the glare of the sun.
Arthur’s horse reared. He held on with one hand and then jumped off to his right. With Excalibur raised, Arthur charged forward.
“Protect the king,” cried Bedivere.
Following Arthur, I also jumped from my horse and ran forward. A tall male, with straight blonde hair and a ring of silver around his head, was heading straight for us. I knew I could catch Arthur because I’ve always been able to outrun him, but Mordred was seriously quick. The three of us were going to crash.
“Get back, Titch.”
“Stop this, Arthur.”
“I want her back.”
“For glory,” roared Mordred, and the crash of metal on metal sliced through the air, as my brother and the knight collided with their swords held high. The three of us then fell to the ground as I ran straight into them, knocking both down like a tenpin bowling ball.
“You rely on a woman to protect you,” cried Mordred, extricating himself from my legs and lunging for his sword. “You are but a coward, sire.”
Arthur swore at him, and jabbed his leg out in one of his Taekwondo moves. Mordred groaned, and fell face first into the dirt again.
Many more knights had now joined in the fight. Spinning balls of magical flame exploded like land mines in the earth, showering us with dirt.
“Where’s my girlfriend, dickhead?” Arthur punched Mordred in the face.
“You are welcome to the troublesome wench.” Mordred landed his fist in Arthur’s stomach.
“If you’ve hurt her...” Arthur turned in the air and slammed his boot into Mordred’s kidneys.
A scream, so high I knew it was a girl’s, drowned out the fighting for several seconds. I looked over in the direction where I thought it came from, terrified that it was Guinevere, but instead I saw Slurpy, standing next to a dark grey mound that was shaped like a haystack. Her arms were cradling her stomach, which was so swollen it looked as if someone had inflated the front of her navy dress. A long dark mark stained the front; it cascaded down the length of her legs. Slurpy looked as if she had wet herself.
Mordred and Arthur were still kicking the crap out of each other. They hadn’t heard her scream out. They couldn’t see the look of terror that was stretched onto her pained face. So much for wanting her; they didn’t even acknowledge her existence.
Which meant that they didn’t know Slurpy was now in labour – for real.
Chapter Thirty
The Proposal
“Don’t just stand there staring,” screamed Slurpy. “Help me.”
“MERLIN! She’s having the baby – for real this time.”
I waded through the fighting - pushing Gorians and knights out of my way, until I was just a few feet from Slurpy. She had doubled over again and was screaming and gasping.
“MERLIN!” I screamed again.
“Why are you yelling for him, idiot? I don’t want that dirty old perv near me,” cried Slurpy. “Get Arthur, get a doctor. Get me some bloody drugs...arrgghhhhh.”
Another contraction tightened across Slurpy’s stomach. It seemed to last for ages.
“You know how to do magic. Can’t you stop the pain yourself?”
“It’s all gone,” she screamed. “I can’t do anything anymore. This baby has sucked the life out of me.”
But I didn’t believe her, and so I kept my distance. I was watching her eyes, waiting for her irises to turn white, but Slurpy was panting and making strange squealing noises that didn’t sound like spells. She was clearly in agony, and I was glad.
“Titch,” begged Slurpy. “I know I have been an evil cow to you, but I really need some drugs. Please get Arthur and a doctor.”
The witch was close to tears. If I had been harder, made of the same bitch-blood as her and her friends, I would have told Slurpy to deal with it herself, but a child’s voice was whispering to me to help her. I couldn’t remember Patrick’s voice, but I thought it was him.
I wanted to believe it was him.
“Natasha, take refuge with Merlin and Guinevere,” cried Bedivere. “You are too close to the battle.” He was limping towards me; his shirt was burnt and hanging in shreds from his body.
“Where’s your chain mail?” I screamed, running towards him, instantly forgetting about Slurpy and her pain.
“Ignore him. What...about...me?” Slurpy was building up to another mega-scream.
&nb
sp; “Is Lady Samantha having the child?”
“I think she is. We need a doctor, Bedivere – a physician – for you and her.”
“Arrrggggghhhhhhhh. They’re getting stronger.”
“I need no physician. I just need to know you are safe, my love.”
Two more people joined us: Guinevere and Gareth.
“Sir Bedivere, are you wounded?” asked Gareth.
“Protect the women, Sir Gareth,” replied Bedivere. “I must go to Arthur’s aid. The Gorians and vagabonds who have joined their cause will be smote, but the blue flame is a destructive weapon. Many knights have been struck down and lie on the field of battle already.”
“WILL-SOMEONE-GET-ME-SOME-DRUGS!”
I grabbed Bedivere and kissed him fiercely, as Slurpy let rip with every swear word ever invented.
“You help Arthur, I’ll help her. Just come back to me, alright?”
Bedivere’s mouth rose at the edges. It would have been optimistic to call it a smile, but it was an attempt. He limped back towards the main battle with his sword raised high in his left hand.
“He really does have a fine...”
“Guinevere!”
Slurpy was lying on her back. I knew her reputation, but I thought Arthur’s son probably deserved a little dignity, and so I instructed Gareth to grab her under the armpits, while me and Guinevere each grabbed a leg and hauled Slurpy behind what was left of the haystack.
“Okay,” I said, taking a deep breath. “We need hot water and towels.”
You cannot deliver a baby by repeating lines from a soap opera.
Slurpy let out a wail that sounded primeval.
“Sir Gareth, avert your eyes,” said Guinevere. She got onto her knees and pulled Slurpy’s legs apart. “Arthur’s heir is coming and he is coming now.”
“It’s burning,” sobbed Slurpy. “It hurts so much. I want my mum.”
I wanted to look anywhere but down, but my eyes betrayed my brain.
“What the hell is that?” There was a big black thing, covered in white wax, coming out of Slurpy. It was the grossest thing I had ever seen in my life.
