by Suzanne Weyn
At dawn he opened his eyes and saw a physician entering through the front gate with a servant from the house. He worried that something had happened to Rowena and could sleep no more. He began to glance anxiously up at the window for a sign of Rowena but didn’t see her.
The sun was well up in the sky when the physician came out of the manor. “Good doctor,” Bedivere accosted the physician as he rode his horse up the trail. “What’s happened?”
“The first competitor has fallen ill with a mysterious malady,” the physician revealed. “He is in a comatose state, not quite dead and not quite alive.”
Although Bedivere was sorry for the man, he couldn’t help but feel relief. He grew eager to be called, to have his chance to see Rowena again.
Servants came out with food during the day to feed the twenty or so men who had camped out, awaiting their chance. Finally, around sunset, a man servant came to the front door and called out, “Number two!”
The servant appraised Bedivere skeptically when he stepped forward, but Bedivere handed the man his card and the servant had no choice but to admit him.
He followed the servant through elegant hallways on the first floor until they came to the part of the house made of hand-hewn beams and wooden floors, an older part of the manor that obviously predated the rest. Bedivere took note of this as well as of every other detail of the manor. He didn’t yet know what information would prove valuable to him in this quest, and his training as a knight had taught him to mark the details of each new location carefully.
Mary met him and the servant outside the bedchamber. She delivered a stern warning against any improper advances on the sisters. “You are simply to report what you discover,” she instructed. “Take no action.”
Bedivere nodded and waited as she unbolted the door. His heart raced at the thought that in seconds he would see her.
And then, quickly, he was inside the bedchamber faced with twelve curious young women. His gaze darted from one to the other, searching, until he came to Rowena and he smiled at her with his eyes.
She returned his warm gaze but was cut short by Mary’s sharp voice. “This is Bedivere of…”
“…of the North Country,” he supplied politely.
Mary cast a disapproving eye on him. “Yes…very well…” The servants came in with the towels, pitcher, and basin as they had the night before. “You can wash up and I’ve taken the liberty of providing you with a new tunic, vest, and leggings from our clothing supplies,” she said.
“Thanks for your kindness,” he said as he followed her and the servants into the adjacent room.
Mary went out again and drew the drape shut behind her. “A wash up and new clothing should make him a bit more presentable,” she told the sisters in a conspiratorial whisper that Bedivere could easily hear as he pulled his tunic over his head.
“He’ll be gorgeous!” Ione stated in a loud whisper. Her comment pleased him and he began to wash, hoping Rowena would agree with her sister.
“Now I see why you like him so much,” Chloe said to Rowena.
“He carries two swords,” Helewise had observed. “I wonder why. The one in the scabbard on his belt is quite spectacular.”
“Did you notice that his left hand doesn’t move?” Eleanore commented. “It’s been injured in some way.”
Rowena shushed her harshly, but it was too late. Bedivere had heard this last comment, and it made him acutely self-conscious of his defect. He looked down at his useless hand, hoping Rowena did not find it as repugnant as the distaste in Eleanore’s voice implied.
He finished washing and dressed in the new clothes, leaving his sword and Excalibur lying on the bed. He pulled open the drape and gazed about the bedchamber. The sisters stared at him with such frank admiration that it made him nearly forget his insecurity over his hand.
He noticed that Mary was speaking to someone through the locked door. She felt his gaze on her and turned. “The door is now bolted from the outside,” she told him. “The windows do not open. There is no way out.” She pointed to the silken slippers parked under each sister’s bed. “Can you tell me how these slippers are being destroyed each night?”
“No, I can’t,” he admitted, “but by morning I hope I will be able to explain it to you.”
He realized that Rowena was looking at him intently as if trying to convey some message. He raised his eyebrows quizzically and, with a nearly imperceptible nod of her head, she indicated that he should step back into his room.
He did this, drawing the drape closed. He waited, not knowing what she wanted him to do next.
“Stay inside, sir,” Mary called to him. “The girls will be changing into their nightclothes.”
“I’ll stay put,” he agreed loudly.
He sat on the bed and shut his eyes, excited by the nearness of her, the knowledge that she was right next door.
Out of a slit between the drape and the doorway, he saw Rowena’s back as she inched slowly toward his room. He stood to be closer to her. “Drink nothing,” she whispered without turning around.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Morgan Gets Serious
The tiny mouse sat under the knight’s bed and exulted in her good fortune. Excalibur was sitting on the bed above her at this very moment. The most powerful magic weapon ever created had been hand delivered to her.
It was really just too good!
Morgan the mouse leaned up against the carved leg of the narrow bed and pressed her side into a curve of the wood to itch her wound. The sword certainly delivered a nasty gash. She’d never intended to fight Bedivere, having learned from their last battle how overpowering Excalibur was. She’d just lost her temper when he’d refused to accept the bribe she’d offered.
He was so disgustingly noble!
And smart, too, as it turned out. The fortune she’d offered him would have turned to sawdust the moment she had disappeared with Excalibur. The ticket also would have disintegrated right in his hand.
It would have been satisfying for her to see him realize he’d been made a fool of, he who was making this so impossibly difficult for her. If he had just left the sword next to the dead Arthur, she could have picked it up from the battlefield and never have had to turn into these ignominious forms or incurred these injuries in pursuit of it.
None of it mattered anymore.
Soon Eleanore would bring in a cup of poisoned cider. Good Sir Bedivere would drink it and fall asleep, never knowing what had hit him. That clod Mary would fall asleep on her own, and the girls would disappear down their hole in the floor.
All that remained was for Morgan to change out of this horrid mouse shape, pluck up Excalibur, and transport out of the room with it. Easy!
“Got ya!” Bedivere’s hand came down and scooped her up, holding her loosely in his closed palm. He opened his hand slightly and peered in at her. “I’ve no food here for you,” he said gently, though to her large sensitive ears his words banged painfully like thunder.
“Come back in the morning, though, and I’ll share my breakfast.”
She scrambled from his hand, needing to escape the unbearable loudness of his voice. He’d said he was going to do something in the morning; she’d understood that much. You’ll be as good as dead in the morning, she thought, scurrying through a crack under the floor.
Safely in the darkness below the floor, she wondered what she should do about Vivienne and her daughters. Now that she would soon have Excalibur in hand, it might be time to do away with them altogether.
Yes, it was, most definitely.
The magic in Excalibur would give her the power to kill Vivienne, a thing she had previously lacked.
And with an adjustment in her magical incantation, the enchanted island, along with the stag princes, could become something much more perilous than a seductive addiction. The island could turn dangerous, and the stag princes might manifest, quite unexpectedly, a darker, more deadly side of their animal natures.
This night would be
as good a time as any to unleash the wild beasts of her new powers.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Bedivere Finds His Way
The lights in the bedchamber went out and soon Bedivere heard snoring coming from the serving woman’s bed. He had kept his lamp lit and, by the dim light it shed into the next room, he could see a female figure in a nightgown approaching him.
He dared to hope it was Rowena, but it was her sister who pushed aside the half-drawn drapery and entered his sleeping area carrying two goblets and a jug. It amazed him that she could look so much like Rowena and yet emanate none of her warmth or sensual spark. “I thought we might share a drink,” she offered a bit stiffly.
Instantly, he remembered Rowena’s warning. “I thank you,” he said courteously, “but might I request to share it with Rowena? It is she I will ask to wed if I can unravel this puzzle.”
“How do you know her name?” she asked sharply.
“She told it to me…in a dream,” he replied.
She eyed him suspiciously as she set the goblets and jug by the basin on the night stand and went out. He heard the sisters engage in some urgent, argumentative whispering in the bedchamber before the drape was pushed aside again and, this time, Rowena did step into the room.
In seconds she was in his arms and they were kissing with desperate passion. She pulled back from him, holding up one finger for a pause. She stood close to the drape and spoke more loudly than she might have otherwise for the benefit of her sisters. “Let me pour you a cup of cider.”
She motioned for him to reply with a wave of her hand. “Oh…yes…that would be good,” he said, getting her message.
She filled the goblet and he reached out to take it from her, but she shook her head. Crouching, she poured the liquid carefully into a groove between two floorboards. “Here, have another,” she said in the same overly loud voice.
His eyes widened with alarm as he suddenly understood what had happened to his predecessor. These sisters were poisoning each man in order to keep their secret safe.
Rowena sat on the bed and indicated that he should sit close beside her. Glad to oblige he came next to her, encircling her with his arm. She leaned close and spoke into his ear in a barely audible whisper. “Do not drink this cider for any reason. When I leave, pretend to be in a sleep from which nothing can rouse you, but listen for movement in my bedchamber. Follow us with the greatest stealth and bring both of your swords.”
“Are you willing for me to know the secret your father wishes me to uncover?” he asked.
She looked away from him uneasily as though she didn’t know the answer to that. Then she turned back to him with a new determination. “I wish you to find the lake that you seek. I believe I can lead you to it. Perhaps when you find it you will also find my mother who has been missing since I was a child.”
“I seek Arthur’s kinswoman, the Lady of the Lake,” he whispered back, not understanding her.
She gazed into his eyes and nodded.
“Your mother is that lady?” he asked.
“I’ve come to believe so.”
“What shall I report to your father?”
A movement in the drape told him that someone was outside and he put his finger to his lip to caution her. “It seems, fair maiden, that I am overcome with a powerful fatigue I cannot explain.”
“Sleep then, sir,” Rowena said to him as she got off the bed. “I look forward to seeing you in the morning.”
“But I must stay awake to learn your secret,” he feigned a protest.
“Sleep,” she insisted as he crawled under the covers and closed his eyes, pretending to be out cold. “Sleep is what you need.”
He heard her pull back the drape. “What have you been doing all this time?” one of the sisters demanded in an angry whisper. It sounded to him like the sister who had first come in.
“No need to whisper,” Rowena said to her. “He is completely asleep thanks to the potion.”
The other sister stepped into the room and moved the goblets. “Well, I see one of them has been used and is now empty,” she noted, her suspicion seemingly satisfied. “I didn’t think you would go through with it.”
“I told you I would,” Rowena replied. “Now let’s go.”
Observing them through slitted eyes as they moved away, he saw balls of light spring to life in their bedchamber. He heard something heavy, maybe a bed, being pushed aside. There was grunting as the sisters exerted a great effort to open something that had a creaky hinge.
As a youth training to be a knight, he’d been schooled in the practice of stealth. He’d been taught to sneak up on an enemy while wearing chain mail and armor, and so he did not find it difficult now to strap on Excalibur, slide his sword into his belt, slip into his boots, and follow the sisters soundlessly down through the trapdoor.
He kept far back, concentrating on the last pinpoint of dim light in their procession through the tunnel. He made sure not to lose sight of the light, though, fearing that the intense darkness would engulf him if he did.
So intense was his concentration that only after several yards did he become aware of the rhythm of drums and flutes surrounding him. It reminded him of his boyhood in the hills of the north and he remembered dancing with his sisters on the heather-purple moors. Liveliness crept into his step and he resisted the urge to turn a jig, thinking it would be too ridiculous a thing to do under his current circumstances. Still, the very idea of it caused him to smile.
After a while he could see a soft whitish green glow in the distance, as though the tunnel would come out to a tremendous room illuminated with this gentle light.
Hurrying, he arrived at the cavern in time to see six golden barges gliding away from the shore on the surface of a lake alive with sparkling lights. Strange animal-men with antlers stood aboard the barges beside the sisters, who were now, somehow, extravagantly attired.
He spotted Rowena at the back of one of the barges, her beauty magnified by the splendor of her dress and hair. Completely smitten as he was with her already, he had never imagined that her considerable loveliness could be further elevated so that she appeared to be no less than a princess. But there she was, the most intoxicatingly beautiful sight he’d ever seen.
And then she was gone as the barges turned behind a rocky outcropping and disappeared from view.
He slumped against a boulder, angry at himself for letting them get away from him. In the next second, though, he realized that he had finally come to the shores of a lake.
He observed the lights sparkling just above and below its surface. This was what Rowena had wanted him to find!
Unsheathing Excalibur, he waved it above his head.
A low, vibrating hum echoed off the cavern’s high rock walls as the surface of the lake was suddenly covered in blinding light.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Morgan the Bat
The mouse opened one drugged eye as she lay on her side on the dirt beneath the floorboards. Twitching her whiskers, she peered into the darkness.
Ow! She felt as if her head had been smashed with a skillet!
As she lay there blinking her way back to consciousness, she remembered having run under the floor to escape Bedivere’s banging gong of a voice. She’d been standing under there, waiting for all of them to leave, planning their final destruction, when a sweet liquid had come trickling down on her head.
All she’d done was lick some off her fur to find out what it was and—lights out! It was the last thing she remembered doing.
What shameful ignominy—to be laid flat by her own poisonous concoction! Why on Earth had someone poured it into the floor?
Staggering to her furry feet, she listened. Someone out there was snoring like a thunderstorm.
Although even the slightest movement caused her head to feel as though it might explode, Morgan crept slowly out from under the floor. Her mouse vision enabled her to see easily in the dark as she scurried into the bedchamber.
The
trapdoor was open. The heavily slumbering Mary was the only one still there! Bedivere was gone, too, and it seemed he’d taken Excalibur with him!
Why would he do that unless Rowena had figured out that her mother was the lady he sought and had told him he could find her in the underground lake?
Morgan didn’t know what might happen if that sword intersected with the magic of the lake. The lake might act on it like an accelerator, multiplying its power many times over. It was certainly possible.
She turned back into herself, which lessened the pain in her head slightly. There was no time to be wasted now. She had to get down into the underground cavern and stop Bedivere from throwing Excalibur into the lake.
As she began to lower herself into the opening, she stumbled on the first step. She’d never catch up with them like this and becoming a mouse might be even slower. Making time was essential now.
A look of determined concentration came over her as she shifted shape and changed into a bat. With a flourish of leathery wings, she swooped down into the tunnel.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Vivienne’s Chance
Vivienne gazed up slowly as the surface of the lake above her began to shine. It was only a shard of light at first, but it rapidly grew until the entire watery roof above her head was ablaze.
She knew that hum, had heard it many times in the course of her training in magic. The last time it had vibrated so intensely was when she created the magic from which Excalibur was formed.
Excalibur!
It was the only thing in the world that could make the magical energies of the universe reverberate at such a speed!
What was happening?
Swimming with all her strength, she made it to the surface and pushed against the bubble-like covering just below the light. It pushed back, but she could tell that it wasn’t as strong as it had been. The magical light over it was weakening its power.