by test
Gwen’s long bell-shaped white sleeves became splattered with blood, as she reached to look underneath the makeshift linen dressing that Arthur had ripped from his own tunic.
“Sweet Mary, Mother of Jesus,” she murmured. Mouthing a fervent prayer, she then replaced the dressing, which had yet to staunch the flow of blood. “Make haste and take her to our bedchamber, I shall gather together my healing herbs, and assemble my needle and thread. “
Gwen’s voice welled with confidence, yet it did nothing to assuage the worry that was speeding through him.
Gwen turned back toward Tintagel and was immediately confronted by Adria.
“Nay, you shall not!” Adria stared challengingly at Gwen. Gwen tossed her head haughtily, bristling with pure indignation.
“Pray remove yourself from my path, sorceress!” Gwen slightly lifted her chin up as if to pronounce her queenly authority. Gwen’s voice rumbled with the force of her command, though Adria didn’t seem affected in the slightest.
“I shall not,” Adria reaffirmed. Their discourse was interrupted when Molly let out another heart-wrenching moan.
“We need to do something!” Arthur shouted above the argument of Gwen and Adria. He shoved the two women aside, barely paying any heed to Gwen’s outraged gasp. If only Mildred would here. He would allow Mildred to take any steps she thought necessary in saving Molly’s life. Mildred had always known what to do.
He moved into the Grand Hall named Ehangwen, and took the stone steps up to the rooms above two at a time. Women followed him, but his knights kept their distance as they realized their talents lay in warfare and not in the art of healing. A heavy feeling washed over the interior of his castle. Foreboding hung in the air.
He moved into his private chambers that he shared with Gwen, and gently laid Molly on the fur-covered bed. Finely woven bed hangings canopied the bed, and he pulled the one side across to keep the warmth in. A fire crackled in the enormous stone fireplace, and maids scurried hastily out of the way, curtsying as they backed out of his chambers. He groaned, when he took in the pitiful sight that Molly created. If pure steel did not run through his blood he would have already collapsed to his knees at Molly’s side. But he could not betray his weakness.
He had to maintain his composure no matter how much of a challenge that stoic attitude presented to him.
“Where is Merlin when you need him?” he asked wearily. Touching his hand to Molly’s forehead again, he cast his eyes to the heaven. “Help me to save my daughter. Dear God, show me the way. “ After what seemed to be an age, Morganna broke the silence with her richly hued voice.
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“Adria has gone to search for Lord Merlin. She realized that you were too pigheaded to argue with. Saints above, my brother, you accept the magic of Excalibur, and with it you heed the counsel of Merlin and yet you will not allow us to whisk Molly away to the magical shores of Avalon. It is most distressing, not to mention very aggravating. You will be the death of me, to be sure. “ He inclined his head at the odd cadence in her tone.
“If I allowed you to take her to Avalon, you might never return. I could not bear that,” he muttered. Clasping Molly’s blood encrusted hand tightly he brushed a light kiss against her forehead. A shiver ran through her at his feathery touch. The wasted look that had taken hold of her sent an unbridled fear rushing through him. He was losing her.
“Well, brother, you should have told that to Merlin a year ago. Lord Merlin has been taking Molly there to train with him, and it makes me wonder why you did not know this beforehand. Brother, you are too enthralled with your lady wife! Perhaps, if you spent less time trying to humor and cajole her, you would have had more time to follow the whereabouts of your only child!” Morganna spat out.
An electrical current flowed between Arthur and Morganna. He flattened his lips into an unreadable line. Though he loved Morganna, she sometimes did grate on his nerves. He cocked his head to the side. His sister seemed different somehow. Her visage had altered slightly. She did not seem the same as she had yesterday. He shook his head. It did not make any sense.
How could his sister alter in the course of the passing of one day? Molly seemed different as well. She had muttered the name of someone called Collin. Who was this lad, and why did he not know him? A father deserved to know the man that sought his daughter’s affections.
Just then, Gwen charged into the room, with her arms laden with her medical supplies.
Without being able to control himself he let out a long suffering groan. Now the never-ending battle of wills between Morganna and Gwen would start once again. They never had liked each other, on a good day, and he could see that Morganna was getting prepared to battle it out with Gwen over the well being of Molly. Good Lord, he needed someone to come help him handle the two formidable women fighting over Molly. What really confused him was that they both believed they were acting in Molly’s best interests.
“Out of my way, witch,” Gwen spat out, giving Morganna a searing gaze. Arthur didn’t really care for the contempt that leaked through Gwen’s voice. After all, his daughter was a witch, just like Morganna.
“Watch your tongue, my lady wife, you speak to my lady sister,” Arthur chastised, frowning at Gwenhwyfar. When he had first married the fair Lady Gwen and inherited the Round Table through her dowry, he had believed that she was a soft-spoken whimsical creature.
As he had gotten to know Gwen, he had discovered that she had a short temper, and that her only passion of any sort was to the Christian religion that he himself had only recently accepted.
Sometimes her frigidity blasted him and everyone else in her life, for that matter. It was this particular cold edge that caused him great alarm. Gwen did not fare well around other people, especially those of the opposite sex.
Inwardly, he knew Gwen’s true desire but he could not allow her to follow it. Not when everyone believed in their love. He snorted. He doubted that Gwen had ever truly been in love with him. And to be fair, his heart still belonged to Mildred. Alas, Mildred had died many years ago. He would be eternally sorry that they had never found their happiness together. It was one of those regrets that would tear at him until his dying day and in all likelihood it would haunt him even after death.
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The only reason Gwen continued to allow him into her bed was because she believed she needed to fulfill her wifely duties by bearing him a child. But she had yet to find life growing in her womb, despite her many fervent prayers. Arthur did not believe that she truly wanted a child. Whenever a babe was around her, she immediately lost interest, scrunched up her nose, proclaimed that they never ceased their wailing, and then she would flee as quickly as her feet would carry her. Arthur on the other hand, delighted in being around wee babes and was contented when he could hold one. He had missed a great deal of Molly when she had been a babe in arms, and he regretted that the most, out of anything else in his life.
Mildred’s betrothal to his cousin had greatly complicated things, and though he had been very young at the time, he had wanted to break the betrothal. Alas, in the end, Mildred had ended up wedding Llewellyn, despite the fact that Arthur vehemently opposed it. She had decided it would be the only way to keep the fragile peace, and in doing so, Arthur’s heart had been broken. If only she had chosen him. He would have fought heaven and earth to keep her in his arms. He would have braved the very fires of hell if the consequences of their union demanded it. In the end, though, Mildred had chosen her sense of honor and duty, over the earth shattering love they shared.
From that time onward, Arthur had set about proving to be Britain’s grandest king, and through his many campaigns, against the Saxons, Picts and Danes, he had kept the people of Britain relatively safe from invading forces.
He settled his large body beside Molly’s now frail looking one, and his breath hitched in his throat as Gwen pulled the blood soaked dressing away. Gwen descended on Molly, with her large gli
nting threaded needle, and Arthur caught her hand, before she could cause undue misery to his daughter. As if Molly could sense the oncoming danger, she sat up in bed, wild-eyed, and locked her furious eyes on Gwen. Again his breath stalled in his throat. He smothered a cry at the sight of Molly’s rage filled eyes.
She raised her hand at Gwen, and for the first time, she lashed out at the woman with a small spark of her blue fire. Nonetheless, though weak, it still connected with Gwen’s flawless skin, and Gwen backed away. Gwen let out a loud hiss and began rubbing at the affected spot.
Her mouth formed in a surprised “O” but she couldn’t seem to get any words out.
“If you try to touch me again, with your grimy fingers, and filthy needle, I shall turn you into an old hag that would rival the one from Shakespeare’s Scottish Play,” Molly promised, as she began coughing up blood. “Oh, shit! Why couldn’t I have just stayed in Connecticut?” she asked herself, as Morganna pushed Gwen out of her way. Gwen stumbled to the side and lost her grip on her needle. It clattered to the stone floor. Morganna plopped her bottom down on the side of the bed, and gathered Molly in her arms.
“Hush now, Mary. You mustn’t upset yourself. Just take a deep breath and all will be well,” Morganna murmured.
Arthur stared at his daughter in incredulous amazement. She was talking like one of his most hardened knights, and though Molly normally had a colorful mouth, she always kept her tongue in check when she was around her stepmother. Furthermore, she had mentioned another man. Who was this Shakespeare? Were he and Collin one and the same? His head hurt from all of the unanswered questions. Molly almost sounded as if she had lost her mind. Could the shock of the Dark Rider’s attack cause her to lose her grip on her sanity? Stop jumping to conclusions. His chide against himself served to knock some sense into him. Of course Molly wasn’t becoming addle-brained. She was a Lady Knight and a Light Bearer of Merlin’s. Her training had prepared her for any trial. She would recover. He was sure of it.
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Gwen plastered herself up against a wall and let out a horrified shriek. “Mayhap she has been possessed by a demonic spirit. We should call upon Father Cadfael. He will know how to handle this dire situation!” Gwen started only to be cut off by Morganna’s loud and highly undignified snort.
“I wish that you would cease your addle-brained blabbering. For being Welsh, you turn your back rather well on your mystical forebears,” Morganna muttered. She cast Gwen a disgusted glare. A gust of fresh air whipped through the air and caused Molly’s eyes to flutter open. A smile lit their glorious depths, and for a brief moment a lively sparkle danced within her orbs.
“Beatrice. Thank God!” Molly murmured. The faint trace of a smile touched her rosebud lips, and she relaxed.
Arthur felt renewed hope flaring in his heart. He trusted his daughter’s instincts above everything else. Reluctantly, he wrenched his gaze away from Molly’s pixie-like face, only to rest them on the Lady Knight known as Beatrice. A lump lodged in his throat, even as a violent thrill raced through him.
“I am well versed in the healing arts,” Princess Beatrice stated, stepping tentatively forward. As she came closer, her golden hair slid back from her face revealing her pointed ears.
Gwen let out another horrified shriek, as the Elf princess smiled almost gleefully.
“May I inspect Princess Molly?” Beatrice moved to the side of the bed, and rested her eyes on Arthur as she waited for his permission. Arthur stared up into Beatrice’s violet eyes, and as he stared into their depths a feeling of the most glorious tranquility washed over him. In her gaze, he could almost see the light that Mildred had carried in her own glorious orbs.
“She is dying, brother, give your permission for the love of God!” Morganna snapped angrily. He narrowed his eyes. In the last few moments, Morganna had become almost maternal in her care of Molly. This was a surprising side of Morganna but not a revolting one, fortunately. He watched as she continued to soothingly caress Molly’s forehead.
“Lord Merlin learned his power of healing from my Elvin forebears. I assure you, Your Grace, that I am well skilled. You must place your faith in me. If you do not, we will surely lose Molly. Even now as we speak I feel her moving closer to the light that welcomes all good spirits. “ Beatrice’s voice made Arthur feel quite enchanted.
Almost as if he were mesmerized, her brilliant light stunned and amazed him. He hadn’t paid much mind to the new members of his daughter’s order…had only been introduced to them the last eve. He had not expected one of the members to be from one of the mystical lands that only lived in fables of his youth.
“Cease your gawking, my brother. She is an Elf, and her cousin from the lands of Faerie is also a member of the High Order, had you paid more attention last eve, you would have known that,” Morganna chastised, beaming brilliantly up at Beatrice. “Mayhap that is why Merlin has not returned with Adria yet. He is a firm believer in allowing us to do for ourselves and if he does not truly believe he is needed, he will stay away. I believe that he wants to see how well we all fare in moments of heart-wrenching despair. If you do not act now, you will lose your only child, and your future heir,” Morganna pointed out, matter-of-factly. Her forehead wrinkled with concern, and the stare she served Arthur sent a shiver through him. She had finally vocalized the thought that he had been keeping at bay. Molly. Dead. No, he could not let that happen.
“Proceed,” he murmured, moving out of Beatrice’s way. Beatrice gently laid her bare hands against the gaping wound. Her hands were immediately drenched in hot sticky blood, but she was undeterred, as light began to emanate from her. Morganna and Arthur shielded their LADY PENDRAGON MARLEY MATHEWS 38
eyes with their hands, and when they were able to look back, the sight that was before them nearly took their breath away.
“Thank Heavens,” Arthur murmured. His eyes rested on the now freshly healed wound.
The large gaping hole had been fused closed by Beatrice’s remarkable healing magic. It had to be a miracle.
“We shall need to wash away the last vestiges of blood, and then Princess Mary shall have to take care. I have merely closed the wound and eradicated the poison; she will still be tender and sore. I can do nothing to restore her strength and she has lost too much of her lifeblood. She will have a long journey of recuperation ahead of her,” Beatrice murmured.
Arthur nodded his head solemnly. The light in Beatrice’s eyes had dimmed ever so slightly. Her shoulders slumped and he watched Beatrice summon a staff much like the one that Merlin carried. She leaned her weight against it and gave him a weak smile.
“I must retreat to my chambers now. I shall need to rejuvenate my own strength. “
“Rest easy, Lady Beatrice. I assure you that my daughter shall not move from this bed,”
he vowed. Standing up, he clasped his hands behind his back. “I shall leave now and inform my Knights that their Princess is alive and well, they will be much worried. “ He cast a glance toward the speechless Gwen, shrugging his shoulders at her pale complexion.
“It was only white magic, no harm has been done. You needn’t stare at me as if I’ve allowed some abomination to occur,” he murmured, moving to take Gwen’s arm. Her eyes bulged and he knew she was about to protest. Instead, she clamped her mouth shut and let her arm hang stiffly in his hold. Then, in the blink of an eye, new anger surged into her body. She wrenched her arm out of his grasp and looked at him as if he were sprung from the very bowels of hell itself.
“All magic is accursed!” Gwen hissed. Shuddering, she reached for the long cross that hung on the leather cord around her neck. “Devilry is what it is. You should not even use that Wizard’s counsel. You let devilry dance throughout your kingdom. If you do not take care, my lord husband, it will be your ruination!”
Arthur flung his hands in the air. With his hopelessness dimming renewed determination flowed through him. Reaching for her hand he, well more or less, pulled her toward the door.
“Would you have had my daughter die?” he demanded angrily. “I had not thought you were that heartless, wife!” He stared at her with an expression mingled between disbelief and outright hatred.
Dead silence resonated off the walls. Morganna, for once in her life seemed content to let him take charge of the situation at hand. If he were a lesser man, he would have been tempted to shake some sense into Gwen. As it was, he just wished that she would decide to take a vow of silence for the next fortnight. At least then, he would be given some form of peace.
“Aye, had I not been able to see Molly through her injury. Death would have been a blessing compared to this half-life she will lead now that she has been healed by—”
“Do not say it!” he commanded. “You will condemn yourself even further in my eyes, Gwen, if you do. The magic that is practiced within the borders of my land is pure and just. You need to understand that or we will forever be at odds over it. “ His nostrils flared.
Gwen graced him with her sickeningly patient smile, even while her eyes danced with bold fire. She would not relent, that he could see. “My lord husband, you will see the error of your path one day. Even now as we speak, you should rush to Father Cadfael to confess your sins. You must understand, Arthur. We cannot go against the will of God. What if Molly had been meant to die? The catastrophe such a defiance of fate might cause could be severe. I fear LADY PENDRAGON MARLEY MATHEWS 39