“Where are you going?” he demanded, lowering a malicious eyebrow, but then his eyes widened, and he glanced away, muttering something as he quickly dropped his hold on me, looking somewhere between ashamed and irritated with himself.
What the heck was his problem? He made it perfectly clear how he felt; why would he even care? The gesture catapulted into my rising wall, but I wouldn’t let it crumble.
I shoved him away from me, feeling the warmth of his chest on my cold palms, and wanting nothing more than to have his body pressed against mine again. “Why do you care?” I spat out, making certain to emphasis the word. “After all, that would require an emotion!”
He crossed his arms. “I care not at all,” he said smugly.
“Good!” I shouted. “Now leave me alone!” And with that I stormed back into the grand hall.
Chapter Nine: Crimson Deep
He liked the red-haired boy because he walked funny. It meant he was different, different just like him. The red-haired boy knew it too that was why he was cautious and guarded, the same reason he did not ask questions about the remnants of the bruises still present on his face, and he liked that.
He followed him to the yard. He said he would introduce him to the others. He hoped they were different too.
The first boy he saw was older like the red-haired boy. He had dark brown hair and smiled a lot. He was happy; he would not understand the things the red-haired boy and he had to endure. No, they would not be friends.
The brown-haired boy looked at him peculiarly. He had seen that look before; it was pity. It was the same look the doctor and castle servants gave him. They pitied him for being so different. He despised it, so he scowled at him. The brown-haired boy widened his eyes and gulped fearfully. He liked that, but he would not let them see him smile.
Behind him a blonde boy bounded forward; he was happy too, but for some reason it did not bother him as much. The blonde boy appeared to be the same age as he was, and just like him, he was tall, but he was not different. In fact, he seemed rather perfect. He was about to scowl at him too, but the blonde-haired boy threw an arm around his shoulder and began to jabber on about a game they were playing.
The touch made him uncomfortable, but the game sounded fun, so he bit his thumbnail and tried his best to listen carefully. His mother said he needed to listen. People did not like him because he talked too much and never sat still. If he tried to be like them, maybe they might like him. Maybe, just maybe, they would be friends.
I stormed back into the grand hall and immediately spotted Elaine. She glanced up, as though feeling my heat, and scrunched her eyes together, quickly excusing herself as she bustled over to me.
“What is the matter?” she asked full of concern.
I pouted out my lips. “Nothing,” I lied, not wanting to delve into it. In fact, all I wanted was to forget about it, and I knew exactly how to do that. “Let’s get some wine.”
She smiled coquettishly at me. “I can do that.” Then she grabbed my hand, pulling me to a table filled with jugs of all different kinds of remedies.
“Bran!” I heard Arthur shout, and the weak, masochistic part of me turned to the sound. Arthur rushed over to him, wrapping an arm around his neck. “You are missing the fun, Cousin! Come!” Brendelon looked anything but happy but didn’t resist against Arthur’s persuasion, as he pulled him to the table filled with his comrades laughing over beer.
“My cousin here is the bravest, most fierce warrior you shall ever see.” I heard Arthur slur proudly, wrapping him up in an awkward hug. And most uncaring too, I mentally added. Brendelon clapped him on the back trying to get out of the hug but Arthur kept his hold. Finally, he let go and stumbled backwards a few feet. Brendelon grabbed his arm to steady him, and Arthur gave a thankful look, before plopping back down on the bench.
“Come Cousin! Sit with me!” He patted the bench beside him, as he chugged the remainder of his beer. Quickly, a serving boy ran over with a jug to fill the glasses. Gawain, whose face was now as red as Kay’s hair, came stumbling forth, handing Brendelon a mug of beer and laughing.
Elaine pushed a cup into my hand, and I drank it in three large gulps, quicker than one should drink wine, still glaring at him. She laughed. “You should try the ale!”
I turned to her jovial face, which made me smile. “Let’s try everything,” I said mischievously. She filled up two more glasses and tapped mine with hers, as we both drank it down grinning like naughty children.
A large man with a face full of hair and hair buzzed very short to his head jumped up onto one of the benches, beer mug in hand. “Let me tell you all a story of men, brave and true,” his voice rang out. Loud cheers came from all of the tables, and I could not help but smile at the strong camaraderie that was evident everywhere in this room. Elaine squeezed my arm, giddy as could be. “As you know, those horrendous sea dogs, as ignorant as can be, think they dare stand a chance against our dear War Duke.”
Everyone cheered raising their cups to Arthur, who smiled proudly. “Do not forget my valiant knights!” he chipped in.
“And do not forget that we have a troll on our side,” Brendelon sneered.
There were uproars of laughter and Gawain, too drunk to even fake an angry face, laughed as well as he threw a slab of bread at Brendelon’s head, who gracefully ducked out of the way. “Well, one look at the ill-omened raven and their fate was already told!” Gawain shot back.
Brendelon laughed, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“Enough children let Bors finish his tale,” chided a handsome young man with long dark hair.
“Aye, please let Lancelot hear the tale of how wonderful he was,” Gawain joked, punching him in the arm.
“And all the ladies who swooned for him after…” laughed Kay, batting his eyes mockingly.
Lancelot blushed but laughed anyway.
“As I was saying,” Bors continued in good spirits, “those mangy Sea dogs sailed many days to come to our shores only to be met by the hands of Arthur and his valiant knights, especially myself might I add.” He grinned. “A quick attack they were expecting, but Arthur knew the tricks of the land. High on the rising hills half of us hid out of sight as to appear that we were few in men. Arthur rode forward, brave as always, with Bran on one side and Kay on the other, giving the Saxons one more chance to surrender and save their miserable lives. Of course, being the ignorant fools that they are, they quickly declined and chose death instead.”
He spoke with such intensity that he had the whole hall quiet, intrigued by the tale. I snuck a glance at Brendelon, whose face looked slightly ashamed, but maybe I was imagining that.
“Their long-haired barbarian of a chief had the audacity to insult our War Duke, which was foolish and clearly unacceptable. Bran ready to lurch forward and only stopped by the hand of Arthur, keeping with proper conduct of war, threatened that he will have his head for the insult.”
Arthur wrapped his arm around Brendelon’s shoulders in a form of gratitude. He gave a weak smile in return, but then quickly chugged the remainder of his beer.
“We should not have been so kind,” Bors continued without missing a beat, “because would you not know, those mangy dogs already had their filthy men surrounding ours that stood below the hillside, sneaking around on foot through the trees and blending in with the dirt. Out they came, thinking they had the element of surprise, their barbarian chief screaming for us to surrender. But Saxons take no prisoners, and we were not afraid. Bedivere rounds our men, spreading out from the left, as I take the others to the right, but Saxons fear the horses so they do not leave the safety of the trees and instead wait as their large war band begins to march in from the shores, thinking they will take us from the sides and behind, as we are distracted from the west.
“Lancelot and Gawain, watching from the distance, dismount all of our men from their horses and begin to track down the hillside through the trees. It is no surprise that Lancelot is swift and stealthy, but even Gawai
n managed to sneak down unnoticed.” Bors grinned at Gawain as a few of the others laughed at the poke, and even though I had expected Brendelon to jump right in, he kept his eyes down and picked at the wood board with his long tanned fingers, almost like he wasn’t listening at all but in deep thought about something else.
“Now, those fools are only watching our men who still stand in the open fields, preparing to attack the oncoming forces of sea dogs, so they do not notice the others who are marching downward, too blind to even see their own impending doom. Then suddenly their chief gives out a loud war cry and in moments it becomes complete chaos. Our men in the open field charge forward, led by Arthur, who dodged every blow that came his way, taking down four to five of them with each swing of his sword—”
Arthur grinned, shaking his head at the exaggeration but did not argue with the story.
“—the poor fools never knew what was coming. Bran and Kay led forces from each side, attacking the fleeing mongrels as Arthur continued the attack from the middle. At this time, myself and Bedivere, tired of them having all the fun, began to take on the flanks that snuck between the cracks of the horses. Fearing the horses, most of them made their way onto terrain that was difficult to ride, including their war chief who was suddenly very regretful that he had not taken our offer of peace when he had the chance. Bran remembering his promise, leapt off of his horse, to follow him into the trees.”
I watched as many of the girls stared at him dreamily. They can have him, I thought bitterly, as I gulped down another glass of ale to cool the unwanted burning stabs of jealousy.
“Bedivere and I also made our way into the forest, following the cowards to their doom. Well, those men are more animalistic than I had originally thought, and suddenly from the branches of the trees, they jump down taking me with them. I thought I was at my end, but then like the brave leader that he is, Arthur rushes to my rescue and slices those savages to bits before they can have me. I was to give him my gratitude, but he already moved his way along the enemies, moving towards the Saxon chief in a race against his own cousin for the head of that hideous chief dog.
“He moves forward from the left, as Bran hacks his way from the right, ominous eyes only on one thing. That poor fool had eyes wide in fear not knowing which way to run, so he heads up the mountain side, but at the top is Lancelot and beside him is the giant Gawain so he stops, wondering who he would have better luck with: the renowned War Duke, whom all other kings fear; the giant fearless warrior with the skilled swordsman by his side; or the pretty boy with terrifying eyes.” Bors smirked again at his own joke.
“Well, he did not know the wrath of the raven so down he goes right into the man who wants him the most. The side of his mouth curled into a malicious smile and suddenly the Saxon chief stops, instantly knowing he has chosen the wrong knight to press his luck with, but by now it is too late because the raven has already taken flight, and with one slash across from the left and coming down from the right, the Saxon chief’s head rolled.”
Bors paused dramatically for just a moment, and though Brendelon’s eyes stayed down to the table, I saw a slight smile play on his lips as the men cheered at the death of the Saxon leader, but then as erratic as he was, his face went straight.
“We had hacked them limb from limb, the hills and fields running red with blood and once they see their war chief slain they know they have no other choice to surrender, but little did they know the rage had just begun—”
“That is enough,” Kay said suddenly. “You talk too much Bors and there are ladies present who do not need to know the bloody details of war.”
Brendelon pushed his hand through his hair—the odd look on his face lifted—and he shifted his dark eyes to meet mine for a brief moment, but looked away quickly. I was dying to know what Bors was about to say; I was certain it was another secret, but apparently I was the only one because everyone else jested and cheered, hailing Arthur and his knights, laughing as their beer and wine was filled, and the music started up again.
Elaine grabbed my hand and started twirling me into a new dance. I giggled forgetting Bors’ story for a moment, as she filled up the wine glasses. We danced and laughed as everything around me spun into one big blurry brush stroke, only able to focus on the sights directly in front of me, but I felt happy and that was all that mattered. Bedivere had worked his way over to her and keeping her promise she saved a dance with him, so I plopped down on the bench to take a rest and steady my swinging vision.
Elaine suddenly appeared to my left throwing her arms around me giggling. “You will not b’lieve what Bed told me,” she slurred. “Lanss-lot is asking Brendelon’s permission to dance with you.” She giggled again but the words irritated me. I didn’t belong to him; he wasn’t my keeper.
I huffed out a breath. “It’s none of his business,” I said snottily.
“Do not worry, he tol’ him he could,” she said grinning, too intoxicated to understand why I was annoyed.
I shook my head, but she seemed to not see that either as she yanked me back to the main floor with more energy than a hyperactive child. I was getting tired, but I followed because I needed the distraction. She led me back to the drink table and as she turned around to hand a cup to me, her eyes widened and I whipped behind me to see what she saw.
Lancelot.
I hadn’t officially met him yet, but I knew of him from legends and figured out who he was from Bors’ story. The tales about his handsome face were true. His cheek bones were high and defined, much more slender than Arthur and Brendelon and he kept his dark hair slightly longer but not quite as long as Bedivere’s. He was tall but almost pixie-like, and despite the stories of his courage and bravery, he seemed delicate. He smiled at me, and I could see how girls could melt, but he was nothing compared to Brendelon and as mad as I was, I still wished it was him that was in front of me.
“Would you be so kind as to accompany me in a dance?” His voice was like honey, thick and sweet, slowly dripping out the words.
I was still agitated that he asked Brendelon permission like I was some object, but I didn’t have it in me to be rude. “Sure,” I said. “You know, you didn’t have to ask Brendelon. I don’t belong to him.”
He frowned. “It was cowardly, I know,” he said softly. His dark brown eyes drooped slightly as though he was genuinely upset with himself. “But the wrath of the raven is not one I want.”
I couldn’t help but giggle. “Well, I suppose I can understand that.”
“Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?” he asked, lowering his head as he gazed at me with puppy dog eyes.
I nodded and smiled at him even though I felt slightly uncomfortable, almost like I was betraying Brendelon. But I’m not, I reasoned with myself. After all, he made it clear how he felt and gave him the go ahead; why should I be concerned?
He smiled back. “Are you having a pleasant time dancing?” he drawled out.
“Yes, although I still don’t quite have all the dance steps down.”
“Here, allow me help you.” And before I could say another word, he swept me up into a dance, and I found it rather easy. “I am Lancelot by the way,” he said politely.
I smiled back. “I’m Katarina.”
“I know,” he said quietly, spinning me around playfully.
He was a great leader, easy to be around and strong enough to pull me along through all the moves, making me feel like I was actually a talented dancer, despite my incoherency. He made a funny face at me, and I giggled. Okay, so he was charming too, but I still did not understand the affair story with Arthur’s to-be queen. In my opinion, Arthur outshone him in every way. He twirled me once more, spinning me back in seconds, but the smile had fallen from his face as he stared at something over my shoulder.
He leaned in close to my ear. “Me thinks he was lying,” he whispered then he pulled away and kissed the top of my hand flashing me a charismatic smile. “You are a very fine dancer.” And before I could respond, he had stro
lled on to a new partner, leaving me in disarray as though it were simply some slow-motion dream sequence.
But then the dream faded into a nightmare as I turned around, finally seeing what he saw; the dark knight storming towards me with a very entertained Gawain right on his heels. I blinked, swaying as I tried to find my balance as the wine, ale, mead, and all other poisons I had put in my body mixed with the nervous stomach acid that woke up at the sound of fear. He put a rough hand on my back, pushing me towards the door. “Time for you to retire,” he said angrily.
“Leave me ‘lone,” I slurred, shaking myself away from him, remembering that I was suppose to hate him. I rudely snagged Elaine’s drink out of her delicate hand, not because I wanted it, but more so make a point.
“You have had enough,” he growled, shoving the cup back to her.
“Why do you care?” I blubbered out.
“Aye, Bran,” Gawain boomed stepping in on his right, throwing on arm on him. “You said you cared not and now you have scared Lance away,” he mocked in a childish tone, grinning mischievously, but Brendelon’s snarled and suddenly he swung his right arm around knocking Gawain’s stump off his shoulder and shoved him backwards with such force he nearly toppled over the table to the right, sending a few jugs crashing to the floor.
“Either you walk out of here or I will throw you over my shoulder and carry you out!” he threatened, pointing at me.
I widened my eyes. “You wouldn’t dare,” I whispered looking around, thinking of how absolutely humiliating that would be.
He grinned. “Try me.”
Gawain regained his stance, turning murderous hazel eyes onto the back of his friend, but as he stepped forward Lancelot swung in, holding him by the shoulders, trying to calm him down.
Brendelon grabbed my arm and yanked me towards the door. Afraid to be the reason for a fight between him and the giant, along with being carried out like a child, I moved quickly out of the dining hall.
Beyond the Crimson (The Crimson Cycle) Page 13