The Knight

by Kim Dragoner

  “Daughter, welcome,” Irelli said in response. “Please, bless the meal and let us begin.”

  Mucuruna recited the short standard prayer and lifted the teapot from the table before Cadwynn could reach it. She frowned, but her mother inclined her head toward the side board and she immediately went to retrieve the first tray and her sisters followed. The meal went quickly and silently and soon Mucuruna excused the girls from the room.

  “Governess Rhia is waiting for you in the morning room with your sewing lessons,” she said sternly. “I would like you three to finish those shirts and shifts in time for almsgiving next Sunday.”

  “Yes, Lady Mother,” they said as one.

  They all curtsied respectfully and left the room, closing the door behind them.

  “Another cup of tea, Lady Mother?” Mucuruna asked Irelli.

  The older woman did not reply, she just held out her cup to be filled. She was gazing out the window at the first truly blue sky they had seen all summer.

  “Beautiful, is it not?” Mucuruna said, as she stood up and walked over to the window seat.

  “Aye, it is. In the old country, we had days like this all summer long, but here they are too rare.”

  “Why am I here, Irelli? Why have you detained me? Surely it was not to contemplate the weather.”

  Irelli smiled and placed her cup silently down on the table.

  “No child, it was not to speak of the weather.”

  “So what then?”

  “Tell me what you have been seeing, Mucuruna. I know the visions have been with you since before Rhys arrived home. In fact, you barely managed to stop yourself from predicting the arrival of Caradoc’s messenger with the news that he was chosen as Arthur’s surrogate and was to be knighted.”

  Mucuruna looked at her with dismayed eyes. She shook her head slowly but Irelli continued.

  “The others may not have noticed these things, dear, but I knew all along.”

  Mucuruna sighed and still said nothing in reply to the older woman’s confrontations. She would never admit this to anyone; it was too dangerous to acknowledge it. Only her son knew of her dreams, when it had seemed important she had shared them with him.

  ‘You have nothing to fear from me, my daughter. We are similar, you and I. For centuries, the healing powers possessed by the members of my family were thought of as witchcraft. Some of them lost their lives for it, but that did not stop it being passed down through the generations.”

  She paused to sip her tea and grimaced at the taste of it and returned the cup to the table. Mucuruna instinctively stood up and fetched the kettle from the brazier. She poured the steaming liquid into a fresh tea pot and spooned the tea leaves into it. Slowly she stirred, then poured and returned to her seat in the window. After a long pause, she spoke.

  “I did see the rider from Vreichvras,” she said. “I saw him crest that eastern hill with the rising sun at his back and the rays cast a green halo around him the same shade as Rhys’ eyes.

  “But my dreams have always had an affinity to Rhys and it seems he arrived from Avalon with them loaded in his saddlebags because they have come every night since then and they become more and more incomprehensible.”

  “I see you walking through this house with a permanent look of perplexity,” Irelli interjected. “Is it because of the dreams?”

  “Yes, my lady, I can no longer decipher their meanings and they follow me into my waking hours and bother me constantly.”

  “Tell me what you have seen, Mucuruna,” Irelli encouraged. “It may be that you are too close to these premonitions to understand their meaning.”

  “My Lady,” she started. “The night before Rhys’ arrival at Kenilwurt, I woke in the night and told Gwallawc that he would reach here the next day about an hour after midday. He looked at me bewildered then went back to sleep but I had seen it clearly in my sleep.

  “I saw a wide clearing in a deep, thick forest and there was a stream-fed pond there with beautiful flowers all around it, a lovely waterfall was descending a cliff and flowing into the pond. He sat by its edge, looking into the water and I walked up behind him, peering over his shoulder to look into the water too. When I looked, I saw his reflection clearly. My son’s handsome face was serene but also full of longing. The sun was directly overhead and he said to me, I’ll have an hour’s ride more to get to you now.

  “Then I searched for my own face beside his and I did not see it. Instead, I saw the pale, pretty face of a girl with golden hair and violet eyes staring back at me. I studied her image for a time, noticing her delicate features and exquisite braids, but then I caught sight of the circlet she wore. It framed her brow and held her hair down neatly over the crown of her head. She looked regal in it and it seemed important so I studied it longer.

  “It was silver and gleaming brightly. The design was of three branches covered with thorns and interwoven intricately into a never ending circle, but where the ends met in the middle of her forehead a large bright amethyst was set in it, completing the pattern. The rich color of the purple stone illuminated her eyes, making them dance and glow in the light. At that moment, she reached out to me and from the surface of the water I saw her arm rising out of the pond to clasp my hand. As I stretched out my hand to grasp hers, my eyes went to my own amethyst on my finger and when I looked at the water again, the vision had vanished and I woke up.

  “On Rhys’ first night at home, I dreamt of the girl for a second time. She was kneeling in our kitchen garden gathering herbs. Before I could address her, she stood and faced me. Again, her skin was like milk, her hair was loose and waist length as a maiden would wear it. It was like spun gold in the sunlight and I remember those piercing violet eyes. Then she offered me what she held in her hands. It was a bouquet of lavender, sage and thistles.

  “The morning he woke from his sickness, I confronted Rhys before we went in to break our fast and his reaction was somewhat guarded. It told me that what I had seen had much truth in it. Of course, he denied all knowledge of it. Now the vision of this girl comes to me by day, Irelli. Yesterday, I am sure I saw her running over the west field towards the fish ponds and today, I saw her standing in the parlor looking out the window.”

  Irelli smiled and took Mucuruna’s hands in hers. She softly ran her thumbs over the backs of them trying to soothe the woman. She knew that Mucuruna worried for nothing but she was in awe of her divination skills. Without effort, these powerful dreams had come to her as easily as the herds find their way along the hillside and back into the barns at night. Irelli knew that the signs were good and she would interpret them for Mucuruna.

  “Well, one thing is certain. Whoever she may be, she is your future daughter-in-law, Mucuruna, and she will be with us soon. That is why you see her apparition already in Kenilwurt and why you saw her image in the water instead of yours. She offered you lavender in your vision to show that when she arrives you will find satisfaction with her, thistles to confirm her beauty and virtue and the sage to prove she will be a blessing to this house.

  “The forest glen and the beautiful pond somehow depicts her homeland, where she lives now and she reached to you from the water to show she is leaving it to join you. Her circlet of branches is a mystery to me though; I do not know what it means. But because it was a significant part of what you saw, I do not want to discredit it. Maybe if I could see the design myself, it would mean something.”

  Irelli dropped Mucuruna’s hands and stood up. She put her thumb and her forefinger to her forehead and began to pace the room, deep in thought.

  Then she added, “The amethyst is a sign that she is important. Purple is the color of royalty, though I doubt she is of royal blood. She is from an important family, established in their homeland and with a long history and background; wealthy too.”

  Mucuruna stood and walked quietly to sit at her writing desk. She placed a fresh piece of parchment on it and thought for a long time before lifting the quill from its pot. Tentatively, she dipped the ni
b in the ink and put it to the paper making a light oblong shape. She paused to look at it for a while and then the strokes came feverishly from her pen onto the paper. When she was finished, she stood, curtsied to her mother-in-law and left the room without a word.

  Irelli went over to the desk and lifted the parchment. There for all eyes to see was a drawing of Naida with the silver circlet on her head just as she had appeared in Mucuruna’s dreams. Irelli’s eyes widened as she looked at it. The design was northern and clearly druid. The girl’s hair cascaded down around her face and as Irelli was admiring the pretty face, she noticed something that Mucuruna had not. Just below the rim of the crown were the tiny tips of two slightly pointed ears, sticking out from under the smooth tresses.

  Irelli took the paper from the desk and quickly threw it on the fire in the hearth.

  Chapter Ten

  He made no sound as he entered the glen through the thick drapery of weeping willows.

  It had been easy to find the way; the boy’s scent was everywhere along the path posing no challenge at all to follow. It had been much more of a challenge stealing those letters from him in Nun’s Eaton. He looked around carefully and soon saw his quarry; the tall oak tree near the edge of the pond. There was a letter posted on it addressed to Naida. He smiled to himself taking the letter from its nail and placing it into the pocket of his coat. He produced another letter from the breast of his jerkin and placed it on the nail.

  That was rather easy, he thought to himself as he turned and left the clearing. Now all I have to do is wait for the boy to fall straight into my hands.

  Further back in the dense cover of the forest, he mounted his horse and rode off. He was riding due east now, but by morning he would be heading north and well on his way to Kendal where he would finish the job and get back to his wanderings. Success in his work meant coin in his pocket but his true nature was to be free and remain among the shadows. He was beginning to get nervous being in such close contact with people and the fear of being caught seemed ever present recently.

  ***

  Being back on the road was not as bad as Rhys had thought it would be.

  He was alone with his family now without the assistance of the page or the cook, but instead of dwelling on it, they rode carefully toward the next stop, Nottingham. The road became dotted regularly with villages and farms the closer they got. He had never seen such a densely populated landscape before, but he was enjoying it. Mostly, the people were friendly and eagerly offered them food, ale and a place to wash up and rest for a while, so they no longer wasted time hunting on the road. Rhys always left them some money for their kindness.

  They were outside of Kegworth by the second night and had been taken in by a fat farm woman and her six sons. He had found that despite her eager hospitality, she had no meat for her table, so Rhys trapped a dozen rabbits in the nearby woods for her. As they sat on the kitchen floor eating the hearty stew she had made, he asked where her husband was.

  “He was called by our landholders to serve in King Arthur’s army two years ago. It’s been hard without him, worse since Martin and Roman, my eldest two, were called away as well last year.”

  “I see,” Rhys responded.

  He immediately regretted having asked the question and he moved to sit beside Richard in the corner and finish his rabbit stew. The woman’s story was not as unique as it would have seemed. All across their great land were families left fatherless and without sons, all in the name of Arthur’s united kingdom. The woman’s remaining children were young, too young to have learned the necessary skills for surviving in lean times from their father.

  As his father and grandfather shared words of encouragement with the woman’s sons, Rhys and Richard planned to take the boys into the forest early the next morning and show them how to keep their mother’s pot full for the rest of the year, before they would get back on the road to Nottingham to meet and gather the next ‘Son’ Owen.

  Chapter Eleven

  Leicestershire had been green and wet and beautiful.

  The shrunken party of six moved quickly through the county and crossed into Nottinghamshire in less than half a day and Rhys had begun to look forward to being in a big city again.

  As they crested a hill which overlooked the small town of Wilford, the last outpost before Nottingham city itself, a rider approached them.

  “Can you see the sigil, Caradoc?” Gwallawc asked.

  “Aye!” he replied immediately. “He bears the banner of Nottingham.”

  “Perhaps Lady Nottingham has sent us an escort.”

  “At the speed he is riding, I doubt it, Brother,” Caradoc said. “I rather think he bears a message. An urgent one, at that.”

  The lone horseman pulled up in front of them and dismounted in one leap. He ran up to Gwallawc and Caradoc, bowed his head and lifted his right hand. In it he held a folded piece of paper.

  “Greetings, my lords. My lady has asked that I deliver this to you immediately and as far away from the city as I could find you.”

  “What is your name, good sir? Is your lady alright? What of the boy Owen?” Caradoc inquired while the other read the letter.

  “My name is Aleric, my lord. All is well, but her ladyship has moved her household to Hoveringham in anticipation of the arrival of her brothers and their men from Grantham.”

  “Is there trouble brewing, Aleric?”

  “Since my lordship has been more and more delayed abroad, there have been brigands and outlaws plaguing the outer regions of the county. My ladyship fears that with Sir Owen’s departure, they may become even more brazen than before.”

  “She is well known to be a rather wise woman. Gwallawc, what has Lady Nottingham requested of us?” Caradoc asked.

  “She asks that we meet her at her home in Hoveringham. However, if her brothers’ party has not arrived before we wish to depart for Sheffield, she asks that we depart without Owen and promises that he will meet us there before we depart for Leeds.”

  “Fair enough!” the knight replied. “Aleric, escort us, if you please. Brother, lead us on to Hoveringham, if you will.”

  “Yes, my lord!”

  “Indeed, brother. Men, ho!”

  Eon

  The sun rose the next morning warming the eastern walls of Galasriniel Castle, sending sparkles across the great Lake Eleniel and catching the attention of the garden flowers.

  The grass was verdant and speckled attractively with haphazard clusters of wildflowers in every color imaginable. Naida was already dressed and out walking amongst the garden paths at the edge of the reflecting pool in the royal garden. There was no one there and she breathed in deeply, noting the scent of each variety of flower as it opened in the light of dawn. There were foxgloves, golden alisons, jerusalem artichokes, china asters and honeysuckles; but her favorites were the heather and the meadowsweet.

  She picked a small bouquet of the two and tied them with a ribbon from her pocket. Her almond-shaped lids closed over her violet eyes as she raised the bundle to her nose and took another deep breath. She sunk to her knees and fell back against the plush grass bringing the flowers to her nose over and over again. A gaggle of geese lowered themselves from the sky and settled noisily on the lake, making her sit up to watch the activity. She smiled. Such a simple existence was enviable to her at that moment. She surveyed the gardens again, standing and moving slowly toward the terraces. In the shade and damp of the terrace steps, crocuses were adamantly holding on to their singular snowy blooms despite the rapidly warming weather. From where she stood she admired a large cluster of them thriving in the shade of an immense elm tree.

  The tree, Siladhiel, was in the center of the Grand Lawn and was the focal point of all the events which were held in the gardens at Galasriniel. Looking at it, Naida remembered all the stories her mother had told her about Mab and Oberon’s wedding which had been held beneath the majestic elm. She sighed at the memory of the story and turned away from Siladhiel. Her gaze fell on the rolling law
n which met the tree line of Vardainiel, the great forest. As she watched, some of the Thavron vuin were emerging from the forest carrying elaborate new bows and quivers filled with unfeathered arrows; no doubt they had just made them from the ancient trees deep in the forest. One of the faeries looked up and saw her there. The blaze of red hair caught by a gust of wind told Naida that it was her friend, Vanya. She raised her right hand in greeting and the troupe faced her and bowed. She lowered her head and they continued on their way. Naida watched them go until they disappeared through the armory gates.

  Absentmindedly, she drifted to a knoll beneath the gargantuan canopy of the elm tree and sat among the wildflowers. She sat in the grass, spread out her skirt and sang as she picked bloom after bloom and placed them neatly on her lap.

  Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth—for love is more delightful than wine. Pleasing is the fragrance of your perfumes; your name is like perfume poured out.

  “Naida?” a voice called questioningly.

  Startled, she looked around to see Minerva approaching her across the lawn. She heaved a sigh of relief before answering.

  “How now, Minerva?” she said. “This is quite early to be about, even for you, friend.”

  Minerva fell to the grass and hugged Naida tightly. She was obviously a little concerned about her friend.

  “It is early for everyone except the birds.”

  “And the flowers,” Naida added, shaking her skirt to show the blooms there.

  Minerva gave a little laugh. They sat silently for a while. Minerva joined Naida in picking long stems of flowers and placing them in her lap. Soon they both instinctively started to weave the stems into garlands. When they were finished, they tied them off into circlets and placed them on each other’s heads.

  “I crown thee, Naida of the Morning!” Minerva claimed.

  “And I crown thee, Minerva the True!”