by Regan Walker
“I will hand you the greenery since I cannot climb.”
“Nay.” Isabelle shook her head. “Stay and help Lady Guinevere tie bows. That way you will not have to be on your feet at all. Carolyn will be helping me along with a couple of knights, if we are lucky.” Isabelle winked at Noelle and then she left the room.
As Noelle and Guinevere finished tying the bows, Guinevere said, “You know,” she paused as she straightened the streamers on the bow, “it has been a long time since I have seen Sir Nicholas smile, yet he was smiling when he swept through the door with you in his arms. Perhaps you have been good for him.”
“Nay. I think not. He is simply easy to talk to.”
“Most do not see it that way,” Guinevere countered. “Sir Nicholas is a solitary man and avoids company.”
“What makes him that way?”
“It is a sad story that Nicholas should tell you, but I will tell you that Nicholas has known no love in his life. Not even from his mother or father.” Guinevere shrugged. “So I am afraid he doesn’t believe that love exists.”
Noelle didn’t comment. All she could think of was what she’d said to Nicholas—that love was all that mattered. He must have thought her the fool.
Guinevere took the bow Noelle held up. “I hope that one day Nicholas will find someone who can show him love and make him believe that there is such a thing.”
“I was told at dinner that he used to keep company with Lady Clarisse.”
“Keep company? That was what he was doing, indeed.” Guinevere chuckled. “He was simply using a warm body. And when she demanded marriage, he did as he usually does and walked away. I can tell you five such women who have had their hearts broken by our Sir Nicholas. Yet they knew what he was like when they allowed him to dally with them.”
Noelle sighed. “The heart is such a complicated beast.”
“Aye. It’s a shame we can do nothing to control it.”
Noelle looked at her, puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“That there are times when you cannot control who you love,” Guinevere said in a dreamy kind of voice. “Love just happens. And it is the most magical feeling of all.”
“You sound like someone who has experienced such feelings.”
Guinevere looked at Noelle and smiled. “Aye. And I hope one day you will feel the same thing. Or perhaps, you already do with Sir Gavin.”
“Nay. He is not the one.”
Guinevere stopped straightening a ribbon she’d just tied and looked at Noelle. “What are you going to do?”
Noelle shook her head. “I know not,” she said with a sigh. “A Christmas miracle would be nice.”
Guinevere smiled. “There have been many miracles this time of year. We shall see what the future will bring.” She stood up. “You will be all right in here by the fire while we go and decorate the doors with greenery. I would ask for your help, but I fear you should rest your ankle for a couple of days more.”
“I will be fine. It is my own fault.”
Just then, the door of the Great Hall opened and Lancelot and Dirk, Nicholas’s commander, entered.
“You wish some assistance outside, milady?” Lancelot said as he bowed.
“Aye. I think we could use some help with the higher places.” Guinevere moved towards the door, her hands full of red ribbons.
Isabelle had come back to pick up an armful of greenery, and Carolyn retrieved the holly. Isabelle turned to look at Noelle and gave her a mischievous wink.
“It is so nice of you to help us,” Isabelle said with a smile that made Noelle smile, too, as she watched her friend move directly over to stand beside Lancelot.
As the group went to the door, it opened and a man with long black robes swept through.
Guinevere turned and looked over her shoulder at Noelle. “I think we have just found the very person to keep you company.”
Chapter 7
He stood in the Great Hall.
His white hair flowed down his back and mixed with his long white beard. Dressed all in black except for the silver trim about the edges of his full-length robes, he carried a scepter, which he leaned upon as if he were weary and needed a rest.
Guinevere stepped to the side, and Noelle could see that it was Merlin, the fabled wizard, who had finally made an appearance. Excitement bubbled in Noelle. She wished she could run to him, but she knew it was wiser to favor her ankle for now. Perhaps, he would keep her company in front of the fireplace while the others were outside.
Merlin’s wisdom and power were greatly appreciated by King Arthur, in spite of the sorcerer’s strange beginnings. The wizard was the son of a Cornish princess and an angel who had fallen out of favor with the gods. He had been reared by the Druids, and from them he learned astrology, spell-making, and how to change his shape when the need arose. But the most important gift Merlin received from his unknown father was the gift of second sight, and this was the gift that Noelle most admired. Though it would be wonderful to be able to change shapes at will, as well.
Merlin greeted Guinevere, then allowed his gaze to sweep the room as if he were looking for someone. Then he saw Noelle and smiled. “Excuse me, your majesty,” Merlin bowed his head to the queen, “I see an old friend whom I have not seen in a long time.” He started across the Great Hall toward the hearth.
“Is this the child whom I once dandled upon my knee that I now see before me?” Merlin smiled broadly in a grandfatherly sort of way. “You have grown into a lovely young woman as I knew you would,” Merlin said as he kissed her hand. He took a seat on a blue tapestry chair across from her and folded his hands across his middle before saying, “Tell me about yourself since I last saw you.”
Noelle smiled. “There is not much to tell. Cranborne was never the same after you left. I do see, however, that you have not changed at all. You are just as I remember, except your beard is a little longer.” She laughed, then added, “I have missed you.”
“As I have you, my dear. I still remember how you loved to sit and listen to my stories.”
“I was but a child, and your stories fascinated me. Especially the one where you told me I would find true love.”
Instead of commenting, Merlin changed the subject. “I heard you became lost yesterday. Have you partaken of any food today?”
“Nay.” Noelle shook her head. “So much has happened that I forgot about food,” she admitted, hoping that Merlin would probably have a servant bring something to eat.
Merlin reached into his pocket and pulled out three stones. He selected one and held his arm up in the air. He made a swirling movement with his other hand, and the stone turned into a loaf of newly baked bread, which he handed her. Then he waved his hand over the two other stones and they turned into two ripe peaches, one for her and one for him. Merlin handed her a peach and said, “This will hold you over until tonight.”
That was the most marvelous thing about Merlin—one never knew what he was going to do next, Noelle thought. “How do you make your magic?” she asked. Then she took a bite of the delicious, ripe peach and realized she was much hungrier than she’d thought as the juice dribbled down her chin. It was strange—she hadn’t thought of food at all when she’d been with Nicholas. She wiped the juice off her chin with her hand.
“It is something that I do,” Merlin said, shrugging. “Tell me, what do you think of Camelot?”
“Its beauty is far greater than anything I could ever have imagined,” Noelle said. She tore off a piece of warm bread and inhaled the aroma, then offered the rest to Merlin, who shook his head. “How did Arthur come to design something so grand?”
“It came to him in a dream ... a castle like no other with thick stone walls and many towers ... a fortress fit for a king. When you have had a chance to explore the castle, you will find that it has many rooms, instead of one large room with many fingers.”
“This I have noticed, although I have not had the privilege of seeing the entire castle. I have heard many stories of the R
ound Table, yet I have not seen it in the Great Hall.”
“It is another thing that Arthur has done differently. Upon seeing the beauty of the table, he decided that no food should ever touch the surface and mar the wood. Since he had not finished the castle, he had another Great Hall built, which he calls the Small Hall, on the back side of the fortress to house the Round Table. When Arthur holds council, no one enters the room except for the serving maid, Matilda.”
Noelle nodded as she took her last bite of peach. Arthur was a wise man in many ways, she realized. He saw beyond his years. After setting the peach pit on the small table beside her, she knew she shouldn’t put off asking Merlin any longer. She was frightfully curious, and needed answers to so many questions. “You once had a vision that I would find a man who I would love with all my heart.”
She took a deep breath. “I have held onto these dreams for many years. I have waited. I have hoped. But nothing has happened. No man has come to me.” Hoping to find an answer, Noelle searched Merlin’s black, sparkling eyes.
He sat silent for a moment, his brow wrinkled with thought. “So you doubt my words?” he asked as he arched a bushy white eyebrow. His gaze was sharp and assessing. “How do you know that you haven’t already met the man?”
Noelle tapped her chest lightly with her hand. “Because I would feel it in here,” she declared. “And I feel nothing for Sir Gavin.”
“Yet, I have heard that you are to marry him.”
She laughed bitterly. “That was not my doing.”
Merlin leaned forward in his chair and stared at the fire. “Sometimes the roads we travel are not clearly defined. We start the journey and think we see the destination for which we seek. Sometimes the harder we try to reach the end, the longer the road becomes. Then, suddenly the road turns and takes us in an entirely different direction.” He looked at her and asked, “Do you understand?”
Noelle thought for a moment. “I’m not sure,” she replied. “Do you mean that sometimes we travel a different road than we started out to take?”
Merlin nodded.
“But will I find the man that I can love and who loves me?” Noelle asked, completely confused. “Will I marry for love?”
Merlin chuckled. “I see you would like to have everything in order first so that you know that it is safe to proceed?”
“It would make it much easier.” Noelle smiled and then added in a serious tone, “I only want to do the right thing. I don’t know that Sir Gavin is the one for me, but if you say he is the one, then I will not fight the marriage.”
“Fate leads us in many different directions and sometimes in the wrong direction, so it is up to you to choose your fate wisely,” Merlin said steepling his fingers and propping his chin upon them. “I will tell you this. You have already met your destiny, and it will be up to you to figure your course. Choose wisely, my child. Remember, the greatest satisfaction in life is won and not handed to you.”
“If I have met my destiny, then I shall wait.”
“I know it is not the answer that you wish,” Merlin said with a slight smile. “But if you are fortunate and wise, all that you seek will be within your grasp. Now tell me, why are you in here talking to an old man when you could be making merry with the other ladies?”
“My ankle turned and it’s tender.”
Merlin sat on the edge of his chair and brushed his long sleeves back. “Let me see.”
Noelle turned her leg to show him. He reached down and touched the tender and swollen flesh, closing his long fingers around her ankle; heat shot up her leg while a swirl of sparkles swept around her ankle. Then Merlin let go.
“You can stand now,” he said with a nod.
Fearing the inevitable pain, Noelle hesitated. Finally, she pushed herself up to a standing position and tested her leg, slowly putting the weight on it. So far there was no pain. She smiled, then walked over to the hearth and back to her chair. “It is much better. I can walk normally again. Thank you.”
Slowly, Merlin pushed himself to his feet. “I made your ankle well, yet my own bones are stiff.” He shook his head. “Such an irony. Now, I must seek Arthur.”
“Will you stay in Camelot, so that we may visit again?”
“Aye. I will be here for Christmastide. We will speak again. I am most anxious to discover what you have learned.”
Nicholas realized he was very tired now that he was back in Camelot. The back of his neck felt as though a sword had been rammed down his back.
He made his way to the stable to make sure his horse had been properly rubbed down. There, sitting on a perch at the far end of the stable sat Boots, looking at Nicholas as if to say, What took you so long?
“You, my fine feathered friend, led me on a wild goose chase.” Nicholas shook his head. “Of course, I did like your choice of prey this time,” he added as the falcon flapped her wings as if he understood. Nicholas yanked out a brown bag. He pulled open the drawstrings, retrieved a small slice of meat, and gave Boots her treat. “Get some rest, my friend, as I shall do. Something tells me we are going to need it.”
Walking to his pavilion, Nicholas thought it probably would have been faster to ride since the tent was located several hundred yards outside of the castle walls, but the walk wouldn’t hurt him.
He had sat in a cramped position all night—not that it was unpleasant holding a beautiful woman— but still, his muscles reminded him with every step that he had slept in uncomfortable accommodations.
The snow crunched under his boots as the wind whispered around him. Nicholas realized that he still wore his damp coat. No wonder he was so damned cold. He needed some good ale and a place by the fire. Aye, that was what he needed: a fire to warm his arse.
Glancing across the field he noticed that the men were clearing the snow so they could continue to practice in case it remained on the ground several days.
That was good. This was one jousting match he meant to win. Then, he intended to win his wager with Arthur. It would be one fine Christmas.
Nicholas stopped to warm his hands when he reached the fire that had been built in front of his tent. He greeted his men as they gathered around and patiently answered their questions on what he wanted them to do today.
Nicholas put his hands on the small of his back and stretched back. He really couldn’t remember ever being so tired. After all, he’d spent many a night awake in the past.
Someone tapped him on the shoulder, so Nicholas turned to see who it was.
“Did ye have a good time chasing Boots, or did I hear that ye had other things to accomplish?” Dirk said with a wicked smile. “Something about a fair maiden who was lost?”
“Since when do I have to report to you?” Nicholas said in a grumpy tone. He blamed the lack of sleep for his disposition.
“Methinks somebody needs to look after yer arse. Look at ye,” Dirk raised his voice. He flung his hand towards Nicholas. “Are ye shaking, lad? You need to take yer coat off and get into some dry clothes, and I’ll bring back some hot food to the tent,” Dirk said as he held the flap aside.
“You sound like a shrew.”
“Do I now?” Dirk grinned. “Were ye kept warmer than ye’re letting on?”
“Nothing happened,” Nicholas snapped. “Do not stand there like a grinning simpleton. Get me something to eat. I’m going to sleep—I have had enough of your harassing. I take it you are through with your questions.”
“Yer disposition stinks,” Dirk grumbled as he marched off.
Nicholas couldn’t remember when he’d been so cold. His toes felt like chunks of ice, and he knew they would burn like fire when he began to warm up. That is, if he ever warmed up again. He stripped off his clothes and slipped into some dry ones, then climbed into his cot and pulled the fur up to his chin. If he just closed his eyes for a moment, the rest would relieve some of his aches.
Yes, even now he could feel a little warmth seeping into his bones. Now, if he could but sleep, he’d feel like a new man. Or, at
least, the one he was before his misadventure of the night before.
Upon Dirk’s return, he found Nicholas fast asleep, so he decided not to wake him. He placed a few hot stones in the middle of the tent to keep some warmth inside. After Dirk placed the last stone in the pit, he again glanced at Nicholas. “By the saints, he’s smiling,” Dirk said to himself. Maybe Nicholas had finally found something that would make him happy. And Dirk couldn’t help wondering if it was the lovely lady of Cranborne. He smiled, shook his head, then returned to the other men to continue training. Snow or no snow, training was a must.
Noelle saw no one when she walked out into the bailey. Everyone must still be at the church putting up greenery, she reasoned. However, she was still exhausted from her adventure last night, so she decided not to seek them out. Thinking that this would be a perfect time to look around the castle, she turned to go back into the Great Hall.
She walked across the hall and down a long corridor that led into a passage. She knew she was headed towards the kitchen by the smell of the roasting chicken that drew her. At Cranborne, their kitchen was in a separate building, but here it had been joined to the main castle by a passageway. She passed a bakehouse and a buttery; just as she walked past the pantry, an elderly woman came out. Her black hair had streaks of gray running through the long braids. Her shoulders were bent, probably from years of hard work, but her face was pleasant even though she was mumbling to herself about some oaf. When she saw Noelle, the woman came to a complete stop.
She placed a bowl of peas she’d been carrying on a table just outside the door, then looked at Noelle. “Is something amiss, milady?”
Noelle shook her head. “Nay. What is your name, good woman?”
“Matilda, milady. I assist the steward with the household staff. Can I get you something?”
“I would like to see the Round Table, if you could point me in the right direction.”
“I was told that you are not to be walking, milady,” Matilda said firmly.