And there was little choice besides a confrontation in which they would be at a disadvantage.
***
There was a fine forest that surrounded the hilltop, a good place for the men to wait.
Kyleigh raised her sword.
“I must appear as Aileen!” she said.
And she heard the men gasp as she did.
She left her mare and trudged up the hill. Coming close to the farmhouse, she saw men at each corner.
Brogan’s men.
Guards.
“Help me!” she cried out. “I have come far...help me!”
They rushed forward, giving her support, walking the rest of the way to the house. Someone inside opened the door.
It was the man Leif.
“You left me! I turned the tide—”
Brogan was there. His back had been to her as he sat at the hearth. He rose, spinning around with fire in his eyes.
“You caused the fires that made the horses bolt, and the wagon to explode! You are responsible for the loss! Sorceress! Are you so sure you are the child of Mordred? Some decent magic should have been in you.”
“You are alive because of me!” she told him.
“Do you have her good?” Brogan demanded of the two men who had supported her.
“Yes, Brogan,” one said.
“Call the others; we will have an execution here and now. This worthless witch will die for destroying all our plans!”
She had not planned for this!
“Do not let her hands free! Do not let her practice any magic on you!” Brogan said.
Magic...
She closed her eyes as the man Leif went out, concentrating on Rowan.
“They will take me to the front,” she told him silently. “They will gather there. They intend to—to execute Aileen. But they will be there, gathered to witness what he does to those who disappoint him.”
She had to pray that he heard her. She could see him in the forest, standing tall, his mantle flowing behind him, his hands resting on the hilt of his great sword.
Yes! He heard her. He turned to the others, repeating her words.
“Take her out! A dull sword will do!” Brogan cried.
They dragged her out to the front. There were perhaps two dozen men. They arrayed in an arc around Kyleigh in front of the house as Brogan stepped around before her, nodding to Leif.
Leif had the sword. He would be the one to decapitate her, and he would take several swipes with the sword, making it a long and bloody process.
“Tie her hands; they must not move!” Brogan cried.
She was shoved to her knees.
But Leif did not take a step toward her.
Rowan charged out of the forest, his great horse eating the distance, Padraic almost abreast with him, and their men close behind.
Leif did not forget his duty to execute her. He let out a battle cry and came toward her, his weapon ready. The rest of Brogan’s men drew their swords, turning hastily to do battle, but Leif looked at her with pure hatred and rage and came toward her.
“Sword, free me!” Kyleigh cried out.
The sword magically appeared. And her wrists were freed.
But it would not have mattered. Rowan had reached her. From his mount he swung his great sword, catching Leif from behind before he could swing his weapon.
The man went down before her.
Kyleigh lifted her sword high, ready to engage.
To fight for life, and for a future for herself, and all of those who had sought shelter at the fortress at Kenzie.
For all those Brogan’s hatred might destroy!
The battle there was swift and fierce. In the end, Brogan’s men lay on the ground, dead or dying.
And Brogan was left, having sought safety behind his fighting men.
Rowan stared at him, lifting his sword. Then, with a sound of disgust, he turned away.
“He is a broken old man!” Rowan said. “He deserves years in the dungeon. To slay him as he stands thus would be murder.”
He would have lived.
Brogan would have lived.
But he let out a cry of fury and lifted his sword, flying after Rowan.
But Rowan turned, and Brogan ran straight into his blade.
Choking on his own blood, he cast out curses on Rowan of Kenzie, on Kyleigh, on every man standing.
And Kyleigh watched Rowan, loving the man who would have granted mercy even then.
Rowan just shook his head.
“I do not fear your curses, Brogan. For magic is best used for good, and life, Brogan, is good. It is good, when you live it to make it good, for yourself, and for those around you.”
Brogan had no answer. A glaze went over his eyes.
Rowan turned to Kyleigh.
“The old man who lives here. Did you see him?”
“I did not,” she said. “Rowan, we must look. I am so afraid that Brogan might have—"
“There!” Padraic said. He pointed to the tree to the north of them. “There! It appears as if he hid himself in the forest when he saw Brogan and his men.”
The old man rushed to them—slowly. He walked with a stilted gait, but he was anxious to reach them. He spoke to Padraic and his words were fast and broken, but this time, but Kyleigh understood him, and she thought that not even Rowan would need a translation.
The old man was grateful.
He had been terrified of the intruders who had taken his home. He had run out the back, hiding with his pigs first, and then seeking out the forest.
Padraic assured him he was then safe. The old man looked at the bodies on the ground.
“A funeral pier?” Padraic asked Rowan.
And Rowan nodded. They would not leave the old man with the dead rotting in front of his home.
He looked at Kyleigh. “Enough strength left for a fire?” he asked her.
She nodded.
The bodies were piled high. She closed her eyes, and she said a prayer.
Father Peter had always said that enemies must be forgiven.
It was done, and Rowan turned to Kyleigh as they all breathed in the scent of burning flesh.
“Your wedding day,” Rowan said softly and apologetically. “So much—death.”
She took his hand.
“We did not seek it,” she reminded him. “And I choose to think forward. To the lives we will live. To the lives of those at Kenzie, to the old man here, and the Celts who might have suffered had he remained. I choose to see life!” she told him.
He squeezed her hand in return.
“We must ride!” he called to the others. “We will make haste toward home—and toward life!”
Epilogue
The wedding took place past sunset, but that did not seem to matter.
It was a time for rejoicing.
A man who had lived only to kill was no longer a threat.
Padraic walked with Kyleigh, which seemed to be natural to the crowd in the courtyard; he and Rowan had become fierce allies, and it seemed quite proper.
She was beautiful.
Col’s wife had provided her with a rich silk tunic and children had woven garlands for her hair.
Father Peter said the words that bound them for life, and he though, even into death, whatever the next world might bring.
The people ate and drank and feasted.
And that night, the woman who came to him in his room was the woman he loved; he knew her kiss and her touch, things that another could not replicate, not one he knew and loved her as he did.
Padraic and his people remained for another few days; then it was time for them to leave.
But they would be back.
And Kyleigh and Rowan and others would travel north.
Their alliance was solid. They would stand together against any force.
Rowan was by himself at the hearth, waiting for Kyleigh to return from a ride to the village with Mary and Alistair, when he felt a strange presence.
He immediately
drew his sword.
“Ah, great lord!” a voice said. “There is no danger that you face from me!”
Then, slowly, in a strange mist, the form of a man appeared.
He was old and gray, wearing a sweeping mantle, and carrying a staff.
“Merlin?” he murmured.
“Indeed. I have come to give my blessing. You hold what is most precious.”
“I am aware,” Rowan said.
“You will be a faithful husband!” Merlin said.
“I will be a faithful husband. Not because of your words, but because I keep my word, my vow is my word, and I love Kyleigh more than I ever knew a man could love.”
Merlin nodded. He lowered his head slightly, amused.
“Well, you are not quite Arthur.”
“No, I am not Arthur.”
“But I do believe you are the next best man. I thought I should come and tell you that.”
“Thank you. I am not a king—”
“No. You are the next best man,” Merlin said. “I must leave you now, but I had to have my say. You must be aware, others will come. Some will seek to be part of this land. Others will wish to take it. But I do not believe you will see someone such as Brogan again. There will still be fights that must be won; that is life. But remain as you are, and I believe you will prevail.”
Rowan inclined his head. “Thank you.”
“I am going. She is coming. She will walk in the door any minute.”
Rowan tried not to laugh. The great Merlin, the amazing man who had done so much, who was known to have been the finest ever to live, was afraid of his daughter.
Well, Rowan knew well enough that she could fierce.
And Alistair had warned him that she had a sharp tongue.
And for him...
He would have it no other way.
The figure of the man faded into the mist. But he had been right. The doors to the great hall opened and Kyleigh came in, carrying a basket.
“Special crops from Mary!” she told him.
“Wonderful!” he said, and he strode across the hall to reach her. He took the basket from her and set it by the hearth.
And he took her into his arms.
None could really know what the future might hold.
But he did know one thing.
They would always face it together.
A Timeline of Truth and the Legendary King Arthur
The Iron Age in Britain
Most historians see the Iron Age in Britain as approximately 800 B.C. to 100 A.D.
During the Iron Age, the largest population of Britain was that of various Celtic tribes, all having crossed over from the continent. The last land bridge is believed to have been flooded between 6500 B.C. and 6300 B.C. and connected what is now eastern Great Britain to the Netherlands, and after that, tribes came by water from present day Germany, France, Belgium, and Scandinavia. The tribes included the Brigantes, the Iceni, the Picti, the Caledones, and many more. Scoti arrived from is now Ireland.
The Roman Arrival
The conquest came in stages.
The first conquest was begun by Julius Caesar, leading the Roman legion in Gaul; the Celts in Briton had been sending aid to the Celts in Gaul, and Julius meant to stop them. Caesar won many battles and drew tribute from the tribes in southern Briton but left to continue his conquest on the continent.
Almost a century later, the Emperor Claudius invaded. Tribes in Britain had been fighting amongst themselves and the ruler of the Atrebates, Verica, had fled to Rome, seeking help against his enemies.
Claudius was happy to invade on his behalf.
By 47 A.D., the Romans had conquered southern Britain.
In 60 A.D., the Druids were outlawed, and those who were not massacred fled to what is now Ireland.
By 75 A.D., the Romans had defeated the last of the resisting tribes in present England and Wales.
122 A.D., Hadrian’s Wall is begun.
142 A.D, the Antonine Wall is begun.
The Romans fight many battles against the wild tribes in what is now Scotland. Even when they won the battles, they did not have the manpower to go after the warriors who fought with different battle tactics them and lured them into ambushes. Also, as trouble loomed on the continent, they did not have enough men to give over to holding onto the territory. Julius Caesar was fascinated with the “Picti,” the name given by the Romans, probably because of their painted bodies. They were perhaps the one people he did not defeat, but by approximately the year 1000, the fierce warrior tribe had died out or melded into other tribes.
383 A.D. Magnus Maximus takes his troops from northern and western Briton, leaving local war rulers and war lords to rule, possibly assuming he would return.
409 A.D. Combined Romans and Britons expel the magistrates of Constantine III—who had already been taking from the garrisons in Briton to fight in Gaul. The Roman empire was falling apart and Rome itself was under siege. Constantine III is at an end himself.
410 A.D. Emperor Honorius tells the remaining Romans and Britons that the cities must defend themselves. Saxons and Angles have been invading and Rome has not been able to protect the people.
The Land After the Romans
410 A.D. Incursions, settlements, and battles arise as Jutes, Frisians, Angles, Saxons, and others seek lands where Roman forces no longer dispel them.
475 A.D. (Approximately/possibly) the legendary Arthur is born.
500 A.D. The Battle of Mount Baden takes place and the Britons beat back the Anglo-Saxons.
(Historic information on Arthur is sparse; even his name, if he was a king, or if he was at the Battle of Mount Baden, remain in question.)
537 A.D. (Approximately/possible) the death of Arthur.
The land we now know as England was sectional; lords and kings would rise in different areas. Alfred the Great, would eventually (871 A.D.) become King of Wessex, and Danelaw would prevail in the north.
The Man; The Legend
There is reference to an Arthur who rose to heroism in early works, but in none of those do we see him as a great king, nor do we know for certain that he was engaged in the legendary battle.
The Arthur of legend found his place in the “History of Britain,” written by Geoffrey of Monmouth circa 1130 A.D.
Many works followed and different characters were added to different versions. Perhaps the most popular, creating the most beloved legend, was written by Thomas Mallory, “Le Morte D’Arthur.”
Truth or myth, the legend of the king means hope, and has been embraced in modern tradition with musicals, movies, and countless stories and books.
Because he was, of course, the once and future King.
The Romans called the island Britannia and the peoples living there Britons. In the years following their departure, so many Angles arrived that it became Angleland,
And, eventually, the southern part of the island became known as we call it today, England
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, Heather Graham, majored in theater arts at the University of South Florida. After a stint of several years in dinner theater, back-up vocals, and bartending, she stayed home after the birth of her third child and began to write. Her first book was with Dell, and since then, she has written over two hundred novels and novellas including category, suspense, historical romance, vampire fiction, time travel, occult, sci-fi, young adult, and Christmas family fare.
She is pleased to have been published in twenty-five languages. She has been honored with awards from booksellers and writers’ organizations for excellence in her work, and she is the proud to be a recipient of the Silver Bullet from Thriller Writers and was awarded the prestigious Thriller Master Award in 2016. She is also a recipient of the Lifetime Achievement Award from RWA. Heather has had books selected for the Doubleday Book Club and the Literary Guild, and has been quoted, interviewed, or featured in such publications as The Nation, Redbook, Mystery Book Club, People and USA Today and appeared on many newscasts inclu
ding Today, Entertainment Tonight and local television.
Heather loves travel and anything that has to do with the water, and is a certified scuba diver. She also loves ballroom dancing. Each year she hosts a Vampire Ball and Dinner theater raising money for the Pediatric Aids Society and in 2006 she hosted the first Writers for New Orleans Workshop to benefit the stricken Gulf Region. She is also the founder of “The Slush Pile Players,” presenting something that’s “almost like entertainment” for various conferences and benefits. Married since high school graduation and the mother of five, her greatest love in life remains her family, but she also believes her career has been an incredible gift, and she is grateful every day to be doing something that she loves so very much for a living.
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