Sons of Camelot: The Complete Trilogy (2 page)

Morgana also insisted that only mulled wine be served during the Samhain festivals from then on. This had since turned Amarelle, or Amy, as everyone in the kitchens called her, into somewhat of a household celebrity. She loved Rhys for that. He stood up from the table and went over to the bucket to take a drink of water.

“No, no, no!” shouted Amy. “I have a new draft of ale for you to try.”

“How delightful.” He laughed and put out his hand to take the cup she offered. He sipped and swished the liquid over his tongue repeatedly, rolling his eyes the whole time. Amy giggled at his theatrics.

“This is really very good, Amy. It has a fruity flavor. What have you done with it?”

“Well, I added some of our mulling spices and all the end of season berries and lemons to the mash. I had too many of them. I’d pickled and preserved as much as the two pantries could hold. I even made up all the gifts and goodwill baskets with fruit jams and pickles for the Apple Festival this year. The mistresses loved them. But I still had too much fruit left over, so I put them in with the barley to be mashed and then brewed it. I like the taste of it; I just don’t have a name yet.” Amy was beaming with pride. She really was a clever cook.

“Well, I think it is delicious,” Rhys praised. “The flavors are fresh and crisp like summer lemonade. Aha! What about summer ale?” he said.

“Yes, that’ll do,” Amy agreed. “We just may have another seasonal hit on our hands, Rhys.”

“I think you should allow me to serve some at my Aunt’s table tomorrow,” he suggested. “I believe that she will love it.”

“Very well, I trust your opinion,” Amy said.

“Well then, I’m off, Amy. I have to go find Erasmus; he warned me specifically not to be late today.”

“Thank you for the mushrooms, I’ll make tomorrow’s broth with them so do not miss your lunch.”

“I most certainly will not,” he replied, dashing out of the kitchen before Amy could respond.

He made his way toward the servers’ hallways and into the main banqueting hall of the castle, crossed the hall and proceeded to the main staircase, climbed the three flights of stairs to the secondary landing and opened the doors which led into the East Wing. There was no corridor on this floor. The entire area was an open space lit by huge glass windows down the length of the eastern wall from ceiling to floor. The library’s shelves went in floors along all the other walls, each floor with its own corridor that ran the length of it. Ladders specially designed for rolling along the shelves were installed on each floor of books to allow one to reach the highest shelf. The floor of the room was also covered with rows of standing shelves filled with books. Rhys had been in the library almost every day since he had arrived at Avalon. Presently, he had every type of tutor imaginable. Both his father and his aunt were determined to see him educated and polished so that a good marriage could be made for him. He had lessons in Art, Latin, French, English and Politics, but Rhys’ favorites were the horticultural classes he had with Glaber, the orchard keeper, and the swordsmanship lessons he had when his uncle Caradoc came to Avalon once a month.

Rhys looked forward to those days with his uncle with an eagerness that tended to cause disruptive spells of daydreaming. He trained regularly with his charger, Broderick, in jousting techniques and vaulted archery, where he shot arrows into a target while standing in the saddle. He had a great aptitude for both. He also learned to serve at his aunt’s tables and in her presence chamber. She said that it taught humility to young people. His father and mother agreed with her, adding that service to others meant one would have appreciation for the service of others in later life. He didn’t mind it, he found the company of his aunt and her sisters quite interesting. They discussed matters of importance openly while he was with them, making him feel more like family than a servant when he conducted his duties. He was the only page boy at his aunt’s table and in her presence chamber. This made for a lot of work, but Rhys knew it was because Morgana valued her freedom of speech so much she opted to have total control over whose ears were around to hear what was said. Sometimes she asked him for his opinion and he felt proud when this happened. She told him that at times she wanted to know what he was thinking to ensure that he was learning well and developing into a proper man; knight material.

Once she invited Rhys to her presence chamber to listen to a topic that she was debating with her sisters. Elaine felt that too much gold had been set aside for the midsummer celebrations that year and that costs should be cut by at least one hundred gold pieces. That was a full quarter of the budget. Morgana felt that they were being as frugal as possible, then Rhys cleared his throat.

“Something to say, Nephew?” she asked.

“No, ma’am,” he replied.

“Of course you do. I can see it on your face, boy. Your lips are practically trembling trying to hold back your words,” she laughed.

“Out with it!” Elaine demanded.

Rhys was afraid of Elaine. She was the severe, matronly type that would hit your elbows with a stick if they appeared on the dining table during a meal.

“I think that some coin could be saved with a little cleverness; by using the available skill in the gardens to produce the decorations and maybe from our kitchens as well with regards to the food and drink.”

“How so, Rhys?” Morgana demanded. The interest of all three sisters was piqued even though Morgause still said nothing. She never said anything.

“Well, I think that maybe Glaber could provide the flowers, branches and vines for the decorating instead of purchasing them from the people on the moors.”

The sisters murmured to each other. That had never been done before.

“He has the biggest peonies and hydrangeas of all colors blooming this year,” Rhys added quickly and got a verbal reaction from the sisters.

“Go on, nephew,” Morgana commanded. She was beaming with pride.

“It may be possible that Amy, um pardon me, Amarelle could organize for the meat from the castle flocks, as well as the bread could be baked here. She also has excellent ideas toward the brewing and a tremendous amount of talent for it.”

Morgana was delighted and in the end, Rhys’ ideas and Amarelle’s ingenuity saved almost a total of one hundred and fifty gold pieces. Ironically, the celebrations were even more lavish than they had been in many years past.

In the library, Rhys looked up a poetry book and took it down from the shelves. He wrote the title and his name on the parchment that Murcanthia left out for students to record the borrowed texts, and made his way to his rooms. He would need the poems for his literature classes in the morning, but at the moment, Erasmus would be waiting to help him get ready for dinner.

Rhys rode Broderick again the next day. After his literature studies and a brief session with Glaber on Rowan trees, he was mentally exhausted and a bit of riding and archery would relax his mind. Broderick, however, was having none of it; the horse was restless and uncooperative, so Rhys eventually stabled him for the day and practiced his archery on foot before going in for lunch. Everyone was seated in the informal hall chattering and laughing as the stewards placed bowls of broth, loaves of dark bread and bowls of stewed vegetables on the tables in front of them. Silence fell as the chaplain blessed the meal and continued as everyone began eating.

Rhys sat beside Erasmus and soon began discussing the fall hunting with him. He had seen several large herds of deer in Exmoor and had noticed that the stag were in surplus this year. The older man seemed dismissive about his plans, but gave an occasional nod and grunt where it was expected of him.

“I found twelve hen-of-the-woods yesterday on the mainland. Amy said she would make tonight’s soup out of them. It should be delicious.”

“That is good news, Rhys.” Erasmus replied absent-mindedly.

“What is wrong, my friend? You seem terribly distracted.”

“Oh, it is nothing, sir.”

Rhys did not pursue the matter; he knew it would not be courteous.

Erasmus finished his meal and stood to leave the table, but turned back to face the boy.

“You have the afternoon to yourself again today, Rhys.”

He walked away before Rhys could utter a word of protest. Rhys watched him leave the hall. As Erasmus stepped through the door that led back out to the castle’s main hall, he noticed something. There was a stranger lingering near the doorway. He wore a dark brown cape with the hood pulled low over his face to cover his eyes and though he seemed to be looking directly at him, Rhys could not be sure.

When Erasmus passed through the doorway, the stranger turned and immediately followed.

Chapter Two

Earth

Rhys found the little glen in Exmoor Forest again without any effort and one look at the clear, cool pond made him want to go for a swim. He took off his shoes and clothes and placed them on a large rock by the water’s edge, jumped into the water and swam over to the waterfall. He stopped and looked at it closely, trying to imagine how he could have seen anything behind the curtain of falling water.

It must have been an illusion
, he thought and continued swimming.

But Rhys’ gaze kept returning to the waterfall and then he caught a glimpse of the lilac dress again. The breeze lifted the hem and blew it out from behind the water.

“Ho there!” he called but there was no answer. He peered into the water and made out the image of a girl there. She was looking intently at him, waiting to see what he would do.

“I can see you there, madam, behind the falls,” he called out. “Do you not know that it is rather rude to spy on people, especially naked people?”

There was muffled giggling, then nothing. The girl was gone. Startled, Rhys made his way to the edge and got out of the pond. He dressed quickly, never taking his eyes off the water, but she didn’t reappear.

Where did she go?
he wondered.

Suddenly a voice called out, “Hello!”

His gaze returned to the water’s surface. A girl’s face was looking up at him from the water. He stepped back from the edge.

“No! Please come back,” the girl said. Rhys looked at her, he could see her clearly now. He was petrified.

“Don’t be afraid, I will not hurt you. I just want to talk to you,” she added.

“Who are you?” he asked. “And why are you in the water?”

“I am Naida, Naida Brannon and I am in the water because I wanted to see you. It has been a long time since I have seen a human being,” she replied.

“How so, Naida? These forests are very old and I am sure that the people of these moors and even the monks from the great abbey at Glastonbury must have been here to gather food and herbs and hunt animals.”

“Maybe they come to Exmoor, but it is hardly a human who can find his way into this glen to sit at this pool. It is protected and is not easily entered.”

“Well, I found it easily enough.”

Naida eyes widened at this fact but she quickly took the opportunity to change the subject.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“I am Rhys, Rhys ab Tywysog,” he answered.

She paused with his answer as if she were tasting it on her tongue.

“Rhys? What kind of name is this? Does it have meaning to you?”

Rhys laughed before he answered her.

“Yes, it does, my lady. Rhys means ‘dragon’ or ‘zeal’ depending on the dialect. Our family name is ‘ab Tywysog’ which means ‘son of the prince’ which is my grandfather’s title.”

“Where are you from, Rhys ap Tywysog?”

Rhys laughed. “You have a lot of questions for one who may not answer any.”

“I know, but there are many reasons for that,” she quipped.

“Alright, well, we come from not far away, Dumnonia to be exact, but my family holds land in The Midlands. Presently I live on Avalon at the court of Morgana le Fae,” he replied.

There was a pause in their conversation that felt natural as if they both needed some time to mull over what had been said so far.

“What does Naida mean?” he asked.

“It means ‘water’ and Brannon is the name of my clan. It means ‘Lord.’”

“Ah, a noble-faery then?”

They laughed together at the jest.

“You are beautiful, Rhys. The most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

“Well, I would imagine that all you would see this deep in Exmoor would be fae folk, goblins and dirty marauding Saxons,” he answered.

Naida’s eyes widened and Rhys noticed her expression.

“Why are you surprised?” he asked.

“What do you know of fae folk and goblins?” she demanded.

“Nothing really, I am just trying to make conversation. Why, are you a goblin? I would think you too pretty to be a goblin!”

Rhys rocked back with laughter at his own joke. Naida gave a long sorrowful sigh and vanished. He felt terrible.

“Stop! Wait! Come back! I meant no insult by my curtness. I apologize, please come back and let us talk some more.”

He looked all over the surface of the pond; her image reappeared a short time after, seated behind the waterfall watching him again.