The Fire of Merlin (The Return to Camelot #2)

by Donna Hosie

  “I will not leave you. I will never leave you, Natasha. Arthur has consented to my staying at your side. We will journey to my father’s court. It is far smaller than the courts of Camelot or Caerleon, but we will be protected there.”

  Even in the darkness, Bedivere’s eyes were sparkling away. I could see my own pathetic reflection in them. I looked wretched when I cried: all puffed up like a pink balloon.

  The voices in my head had fallen silent.

  “I’m scared, Bedivere. I’m losing my mind.”

  “You are my world, my everything,” he whispered. “I will never treasure any possession as much as I worship you.” His mouth moved across my face and then down, where it slowly kissed my neck. “I will not live without you.”

  “And you choose me over Arthur?”

  “I would choose your love over my own life.”

  “I love you so much. I would die if we were ever apart again.”

  I didn’t care who was watching, and I knew most of them were. Arthur would probably be on the verge of an epileptic fit right now as Bedivere and I continued to kiss in the open.

  Hey, I wasn’t the one who was pregnant. The hypocrite lost the moral high ground with me the second he got his girlfriend knocked-up.

  Which suddenly reminded me.

  Bedivere was taken aback as I wrenched my body from his, and started walking back towards my brother, who looked as if he had just been asked to eat raw sewage.

  “You got her pregnant here, didn’t you?”

  “Titch...”

  I thumped him on the arm, as hard as I could. Talan and David made to intervene, but one glare from me was enough to tell them both to back off.

  “You got her pregnant here, didn’t you.” It was no longer a question.

  “It wasn’t like that, Titch.”

  I thumped him again, and again, and again.

  “I was dying, and you were off shagging your girlfriend. Don’t deny it.”

  Arthur grabbed both of my wrists, and so I kicked him, but he was far stronger than me, and so when he twisted my arms across my body and turned me one hundred and eighty degrees, I found myself stuck in a body lock.

  “Hit me again and I swear I will have you tied to a tree and surrounded by chickens, Titch,” he said, tightening his hold.

  “I hate you. Words do not exist to describe how much I hate you right now.”

  “Shut up and listen to me for once. You have no idea what it was like for me back then. I thought you were dying. Everyone thought you were dying. I was scared out of my mind, trying to get you back to the Vale in time, and Robert Dawes was going crazy. I thought I was going to lose you, Titch. You’re my little sister - I’m supposed to look after you. I was going to lose you, and it was way worse than when we lost Patrick, because I was younger then. I didn’t understand death.”

  “But what has that...”

  “Because it wasn’t about the sex, Titch. It was just something to take my mind away from everything else.”

  “This is why Merlin and Nimue are mad, Arthur. If Slur...Sammy has the powers I’ve seen her with, then there’s going to be something special about your baby, and not in a good way.”

  “I’m sorry, Titch. I’m sorry about everything. If I hadn’t followed that rabbit, then none of this would have happened. We would still be in Wales, and Sammy wouldn’t be pregnant, and mum and dad wouldn’t be on the verge of a divorce, and...”

  We stood there, Arthur still holding me in a body lock. Did he really regret coming here? I certainly didn’t. Even in the awful darkness, with voices battling inside my head, I still had more sense of self in the land of Logres than I had ever done back in our own time.

  “If you hadn’t followed Mr. Rochester then I wouldn’t have found him,” I said slowly, relaxing my tensed body as I stared at Bedivere. “And we wouldn’t have found them.” I nodded to Tristram, Gareth, Talan and David, who were all standing by their horses, watching us argue. “And we wouldn’t have just been given the best meal of watery eggs and concrete bread we’ve ever had.” I gestured to Byron and Guinevere, who were both holding a chicken under each arm.

  Arthur slumped into my back, and I felt the silent laugh leave his chest.

  “We’re meant to be here, Arthur,” I said, “and I don’t think it’s meant to be easy, but this is where we belong. This is our history.”

  “It’s a time that has already been and gone, Titch,” said Arthur. “Doesn’t that scare you? We don’t know what’s coming.”

  “Then we’ll make ourselves remember, Arthur.”

  “You’ll stay with Bedivere?”

  “Only magic will be able to tear me away from him,” I replied, with a weak smile that hurt my face.

  I should have kept my mouth shut and not tempted fate, because it was listening.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Duke Corneus of Lindsey

  I was going to meet my boyfriend’s parents – or at least his father. What was I supposed to wear? What should I say? I had never met a boyfriend’s family before.

  I had never had a boyfriend before.

  Bedivere wasn’t helping to calm my nerves, either.

  “My father is...a proud man,” he said cautiously, when I asked him for more information. “He is a former knight of King Uther’s kingdom, but he was wounded and cut down before his time. It has made him rather...resentful.”

  “Resentful of what?”

  “Of me.”

  Bedivere was fixing up supplies onto three horses. Byron and Guinevere had decided they were going to come with us, and they would be sharing a small black pony that looked more like a donkey. Blankets and clothes and teeth-breaking bread were being tied to straps, like we were packing for a holiday.

  “But he will like me?” I asked nervously, as Guinevere handed me long black trousers and a creamy white tunic to change into.

  “How could he not?” replied Bedivere.

  “Did he like Lady Fleur?”

  “I didn’t,” interrupted Guinevere; she was carrying a sack of potatoes.

  “Why didn’t you like her?” I asked eagerly. In my mind I pictured Fleur as fat and ugly, with greasy hair like her brother Archibald - and she had a hump as well for good measure. Plus verrucas.

  “Vain is the Lady Fleur,” replied Guinevere, dropping the sack onto Byron’s foot.

  “OW.”

  “Vain?”

  “Oh yes, very vain, but when you are as beautiful as she, then the sin of vanity comes as natural as breathing.”

  “OW, OW.”

  No verrucas or a hump then?

  “They’re always beautiful, aren’t they?” I mumbled, kicking the sack Guinevere had just dropped.

  “OW, OW, OW.” I had kicked Byron by mistake.

  “Stop your OW-ing, Byron,” snapped Guinevere. “Lady Natasha is having a moment of self-doubt.”

  “No I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are, I can see it in your eyes,” replied Guinevere gently. “You have nothing to concern yourself with. You have his heart, any fool can see that.”

  “OW.”

  “You wait, you oaf. I’ll really give you something to OW about if you don’t get those potatoes tied up.”

  I turned to Bedivere, who was laughing away to himself as he strapped two swords to his horse.

  “You find all of this funny?”

  “I find your doubt amusing, Natasha. I would gladly lay down my life for you, but as the final breath left my body, my ears would still hear you question my devotion.”

  “Don’t mock me.” I jabbed Bedivere in the back with my finger.

  “I dare not.”

  Bedivere flung out his right arm and caught a potato that had been thrown by Guinevere; she was now hurling them at Byron, who was sticking his tongue out at her as he dodged them.

  It was time to go.

  My 21st century clothes were locked away in a chest. The contents of my backpack were wrapped in a blanket and tied to my horse. I needed to
be as normal as possible: a medieval normal. Talan had left a spare cloak for me to wear; it wasn’t too big. The Irishman was only a couple of inches taller than me.

  This was now my normal.

  Byron and Guinevere climbed onto their pony with a little help from Bedivere, and the three horses galloped away from the stone house.

  “How long will it take to get to your father’s?” I called.

  “No more than half a day, if we keep well with time,” replied Bedivere.

  Byron had the reins and was pounding their little pony into the ground; sweat was pouring down his face. I pulled back on my reins and slowed my horse down. Seconds later, Byron galloped past me, with Guinevere hanging on for dear life.

  “Last one there is a rotten Ddraig’s egg,” he cackled.

  Five months without any horse riding. This wasn’t going to be pretty. Sure enough, it wasn’t long before I could feel the throbbing of blisters around my butt. Where was that pregnant witch when I actually wanted her? What would the spell be for a thick behind like a rhino? Hornicus Arsicus perhaps?

  “Is all well, Lady Natasha?” called Byron, as our horses galloped through a murky river that looked stained by blood.

  I just grimaced.

  “You appear to be paining,” cackled the dwarf. The corners of his mouth were turned up. The little snot knew exactly what was wrong.

  “We should stop, Sir Bedivere,” called Guinevere. “Let the horses rest for a while.”

  She winked at me and I could have kissed her. Without waiting for Bedivere’s reply, Guinevere pulled on Byron’s arms and took their pony down to a trot.

  I slid off my horse, like jelly plopping off a spoon.

  If you die, you’ll need to be buried in a Y-shaped coffin. Put your legs together, you’re supposed to be a lady.

  Screw being a lady. I needed Deep Heat. Why did I pack a razor and not pain relief balm?

  “A few more days in the ride and your rump will be as hardy as my sister’s,” said Byron, giving me a good slap. I squeaked as several blisters burst. Guinevere reached into a leather pouch that was looped over her shoulder, and pulled out some withered leaves.

  “Elderberries. The leaves release most pains, and the berries make delicious wine. I’ll boil some of these up for you.”

  We travelled on to Bedivere’s family court without another stop, reaching it by way of a stone bridge that had been built to connect two large mounds of earth. Like everything else in Logres, the grass surrounding the castle was dying.

  The castle had one large circular building in its centre, with a towering wall built in a square, surrounding it on all four sides. In each corner of the outer wall was a smaller circular tower, built using the same pale grey stone. Behind the main round tower was a large stone building that looked like a church. A single blue flag flapped in the wind.

  My stomach was churning. My palms were sweaty. My arse was killing me. I was going to puke with nerves.

  “I’m not sure I’m ready for this,” I said to Bedivere, as I slid off the horse once more and landed in his arms. The second my feet touched the cobbled ground, there was a whipping crack, like overhead lightning. Then a deep rumble started to vibrate under our feet. The three horses whinnied in fear and reared up onto their hind legs. Potatoes and clothes and swords clattered to the ground as the earth shook.

  “What is that?” I cried.

  “I know not,” replied Bedivere. He lunged forward and grabbed two of the horses’ reins. “Byron,” he shouted, “hold your horse. Do not show it fear.”

  Brave Byron immediately snatched at the swinging reins of his pony, as it started to kick out with its back legs. A flailing hoof caught Guinevere in the shoulder and sent her flying backwards across the cobbles. She immediately jumped up again like nothing had happened, and went to help Byron.

  I looked up into the circular tower, afraid it was about to come tumbling down. On the third level was a window, wider than any of the others. A man was staring down at the scene, watching us with a wary expression. Another crack snapped in the air, and the earth stopped shaking. Low rumbles, like distant thunder, continued to echo in the darkening grey cloud, which was lowering quickly. The sky looked like it was boiling, as the clouds swirled and churned.

  Two young boys came running towards us. They saw Bedivere and stopped dead in their tracks.

  “Sir Bedivere,” gasped one. “Is it truly you, sir?”

  “Is Duke Corneus in residence?” replied Bedivere stiffly.

  “He is, sir.”

  “And my brother, Sir Lucan?”

  “He is here, as is Sir Griflet.”

  Bedivere looked at me with what I thought was pity.

  “A family reunion.”

  “Who’s Sir Griflet?”

  “My cousin.”

  “And are they nice?”

  “Sir Lucan is an honourable knight, brother and friend. He is loyal to Arthur,” replied Bedivere. “He will be a solid ally to have whilst we take shelter here.”

  The two little boys took hold of the three horses, and led them away past three scorched poles that were fixed into the ground. The sound of their hooves on the cobbled ground set my teeth on edge. Why hadn’t Bedivere said anything about Griflet? It put me on my guard.

  “My sister and I will find shelter down here, Sir Bedivere,” said Byron. He was swaying, and his nostrils were lined with dried blood.

  “You will take no such action, Byron,” said Bedivere, gently pushing me forward towards an arched doorway. “You are my guests. You will not endure the stables whilst you are here.”

  We were less than ten feet away from the door when a tall figure bounded out with a jump. His hair was similar to Bedivere’s, just curlier. His eyes were also green, but not the bright lime colouring I was so used to gazing at.

  “Brother,” cried the tall figure, and without waiting for a response, he threw his arms around Bedivere.

  I had a horrible feeling of déjà vu. This was exactly how Sir Archibald had greeted Bedivere on the steps of the Solsbury Hill monastery. Was this stranger an actual brother, an enthusiastic friend, or another brother-in-law-to-be? If it was the latter, then Bedivere needed to ready himself for the mother of all knees to his privates.

  “It gives me joy to see you again, Sir Lucan,” said Bedivere smiling. He turned to me. “May I introduce my love, Lady Natasha of Avalon Cottage.”

  I grinned, and then did the most ridiculous thing I had ever done in my life: I curtsied.

  But the two knights beamed. Lucan bowed and then kissed my hand. His mouth was still hovering above my skin as he looked up at me.

  “I have heard a great many tales about your fair and brave person, Lady Natasha. It is an honour to finally make the acquaintance of the lady who stole my noble brother’s heart, and saved his life.”

  “Er, thanks.”

  My chest was tightening. My underarms were sweaty. My arse was still killing me. I was seriously going to puke with nerves.

  “M’lady needs to rest, Sir Lucan,” said Guinevere, taking hold of my hand. “May I take her to one of the chambers?”

  “I will take you there myself,” replied Lucan. “Sir Bedivere, you and your squire should pay homage to our father. He is waiting in the hall.”

  “I will come to you shortly, my love,” whispered Bedivere.

  “Let me have a bath first. I need to get the smell of boiled elderberries…”

  Guinevere coughed loudly, and Byron shouted at everyone to look at something in the sky. There was nothing there, except dark cloud.

  I knew straight away I had done something wrong. It could only have been the mention of elderberries. I ad-libbed quickly. “As I was saying, I am very tired and dirty from travelling. A bath would be most welcome.”

  A curt nod from Guinevere indicated this was more acceptable. Bedivere ran his fingers through my hair – unlike my father, he didn’t wipe his hands on his clothes – and went to his left, and disappeared around the curve o
f the circular tower with Byron.

  “Follow me, m’lady,” said Lucan, and he turned around and went back into the tower. Up and around a steep set of stairs we wound, eventually coming out to a landing that I had not seen from the front of the castle. I guessed this landing connected the building at the back and the main tower.

  “The court of Lindsey is smaller than what you are used to, but I pray you will find it comfortable, Lady Natasha,” said Lucan smiling. His mouth was thinner than Bedivere’s, but his lips were pinker and glossier.

  My throat picked that moment to tighten as I tried to speak. I ended up coughing and spraying saliva. How I hated family reunions. Now, to be in the middle of one where I was the stranger, was going to be even worse.

  Lucan took Guinevere and me into a room at the end of the landing. It was small and cold, with a damp feeling of neglect. There was a four-poster bed made of dark wood, almost black in colour. In one of the corners was a long table, filled with rolled-up scrolls. Three wrought-iron candlestick holders were bare on the walls.

  “I will ask the kitchen maids to come and light the fire and prepare hot water for you. We were not expecting my brother, or we would have been more prepared.”

  Lucan seemed embarrassed.

  “This really is very kind of you,” I replied, “and please don’t go to any trouble. Guinevere and I can find our way around.”

  Lucan bowed and made to leave. As he reached the door, he turned.

  “If I may, Lady Natasha, a word of warning. You may find the Duke brisk of tongue, for it is just his way. Our father was expecting Sir Bedivere to wed Lady Fleur after the enchantment of Logres was vanquished, and the joining of the two houses meant a great deal to him. I have only ever wanted my brother’s happiness, for he is such a serious creature at times. Rest assured, that in me, you will find a friend, but the Duke may need more convincing than your fair smile.”

  Lucan disappeared through the door, which closed with a solid thump. I collapsed backwards onto the bare mattress, which was lumpy, but very soft.

  “This is going to be a nightmare. Bedivere’s dad won’t like me at all. And why did everyone cough and make a fuss back there?”