Sons of Camelot: The Complete Trilogy (3 page)

“I meant you no insult, milady,” Rhys replied.

She was startled and turned to look directly at him.

“You can see me here?” Naida asked.

“As clear as day, my lady, just as I did yesterday. Should I not be able to?”

She fumbled slightly before answering, “Of course you should; have you not eyes in your head?”

Rhys looked down in embarrassment and Naida couldn’t help smiling at his reaction to her sarcasm.

“Oh, you really are quite handsome, sir.”

“Is that all you are going to say to me for the rest of the day?” Rhys quipped.

“Why? Are you going to stay to talk for the rest of the day?” she answered.

Rhys erupted in more laughter.

“Answering questions with more questions! My father always told me that this was one of women’s favorite tricks,” he said.

“I do not try to trick you. I told you before that my answers were to be limited,” she replied, scowling playfully as she stepped out from behind the water and took a seat on the rocks at the far end of the pond. Rhys nodded and smiled.

“How old are you, Rhys? You seem quite young, a boy. What are you doing so deep in Exmoor by yourself?”

“Boyhood is long behind me. I am seventeen years of age, after all.”

The defiant angle at which he held his chin as he said it made Naida giggle again.

“Why are you laughing?” he asked.

“You speak of being seventeen as if you had lived a lifetime,” she said.

“But seventeen is rather old. If my father had his way, I would have been married and had made him a grandfather by now, but alas, I am not as scholarly in such pursuits as would be pleasing to him.” Rhys sighed again.

“Why so low at the mention of this, Rhys?” she asked, concerned about the change of mood. “I am one hundred and fifty years old. My mother has lost interest in my future and my father has turned his ambitions to my married siblings, thinking me a wild and unwilling child.”

“A child? At one hundred and fifty? You look to be no older than fifteen years old. What are you, Naida?” he asked again.

“I cannot answer that, but you said you live at court with Morgana le Fae. Why is that so?”

“More questions for questions?” He paused, then answered, “She is my father’s cousin; he sent me there to be sophisticated by court life, but I know that he secretly hopes I will be married in a great match made by Morgana.”

“I see,” she replied, “But what do you want?”

“I want to see the world,” Rhys said, “learn everything there is, become a knight and maybe sit at the Round Table. To be quite honest, I’d be happy to serve dinner at the Round Table but for my family’s sake, I try to keep my ambitions high.”

Rhys flashed his widest smile at her. Naida smiled back at him and started to make her way around the pond balancing precariously at the water’s edge.

“Be careful not to fall, milady,” Rhys called out to her but she ignored him completely. Soon she was on his side of the pond and she took a seat in the lush grass.

“You are the court jester, eh?” Naida quipped. “Have you ever met King Arthur?”

“No, but I hope to soon, we are related after all. Quite distantly, but related none the less. My uncle Caradoc is a Knight of the Round Table. His son will soon follow in his footsteps, I’d think.”

He sighed.

“I have to return home now, Rhys,” Naida suddenly said, breaking the pause in conversation. “If you wish for the answers to the questions you asked me, seek out Murcanthia, Morgana’s librarian. She will tell you where to find the answers.”

With that, she disappeared. Rhys looked around again to see if she was elsewhere in the glen, but she was gone.

“Not even a polite goodbye?” he shouted, feeling dejected.

“Goodbye,” a voice called from across the water. Rhys whirled around looking at the waterfall. He just caught sight of the hem of her dress disappearing from sight.

Then he heard her last words clearly as she added, “And no matter what happens, do not speak of any of this to anyone at Avalon.”

The leaves overhead rustled violently in the wind, then silence. She was gone. Rhys fell back against the grass once more. His mind raced, his heart pounded, his head was giddy. Who was she, this Naida? And most importantly WHAT was she? She was a beautiful nymph of a girl, an enchantress from the water.

Avalon

Rhys heard the distant sounding of a gong and paused to look up at the windows of the huge library.

“Oh dear God!” he cried as he saw the sun was well on its way home. “It’s the supper gong.”

He jumped up and raced over to the west wing door and down the corridor to his rooms. His valet was waiting impatiently for him.

“Where have you been, Master Rhys? You are late!” Erasmus admonished.

“I was in the library reading, Erasmus. Time must have gotten away from me.”

He threw off his jerkin and shirt and faced Erasmus so he could push his arms into the clean shirt the valet held up for him. He donned a new jerkin as well. Erasmus tightened his belt and put on the scabbard at his waist while Rhys brushed his hair quickly. He ran from the room and out to the entry hall of the banquet room and pushed through the crowd to take his place beside one of his aunt’s ladies, Enid, whom he escorted in to supper on the nights when he did not serve at Morgana’s table.

“Where have you been?” Enid hissed. “You are late!”

“I have heard that several times already. Be still, Lady Enid. I have made my way here before you entered for supper, have I not? You are yet escorted to dine like a true and proper young woman. No scandal shall erupt on you today. If you must know, I was caught up reading in the library.”

Rhys rolled his eyes just at the thought of the dramatics his absence would have caused at court. Enid smiled at him.

“You were reading books? When did that ever outweigh civic duty?” she retorted, still managing a giggle at Rhys.

He rolled his eyes again, this time for his own benefit. She was as insincere as a bridge troll; everyone at court knew that Lady Enid was fond of him. She giggled childishly at everything he said and blushed shamefully when he entered the room. Rhys found her silly, boring and terribly simple-minded. He thought that true of most of the girls at Avalon and scoffed at his father’s notion that a marriage to any one of these ladies would be a great one. Unbearable is what it would be, but he had long since found out that he and his father had very different ideas about love and marriage as well as very different thoughts about what made a marriage successful. He thought more like his mother did in those regards. Rhys sighed and the sound of the trumpets broke his reverie. They walked into the hall in their pairs and took their seats.

Fortunately, his aunt insisted that her ladies and her pages sit at segregated tables to dine. She discouraged fraternizing in her court; thinking it meretricious behavior for the young people in her service. Only when one of her court members became engaged and released from service would that person be allowed to sit at the conjugal tables among the rest of the gentry with their betrothed. She was strict but fair and everything she did was beyond reproach and vivid with purpose. Rhys loved that about her. He stopped and bowed low to Morgana, where she was seated on her throne. She was always a sight to behold. Impeccably dressed for the occasion, her long black hair was luxurious from brushing and neatly in place beneath her golden circlet. She wore a green gown to dinner, a wide gold medallion belt hung at her waist. The dress’ color brought out the shade of green in her eyes, making them sparkle. Her dark hair and bright green eyes were the only sign of her relation to Rhys. They were strong traits of their paternal bloodline.

Enid curtsied deeply beside him before leaving to take her seat. Morgana smiled at them and crooked her finger at Rhys. He went up the dais to stand beside her throne at her right hand. He bowed his head to receive her blessing and she gently touched the top of his head.

“Are you well, nephew?” she asked. “I have not seen you all day.”

“I am well, Aunt. I had archery and literature this morning, then I rowed out with the boat today and studied with Murcanthia in the library,” he confessed, but decided to omit everything about his new friend.

“Very well done.” She returned her gaze to the dining room. “Are you ready for the Apple Festival tomorrow? You will be serving us at the late breakfast.”

“Yes, I am ready and Amarelle and I have a lovely surprise for you as well; some delicious new ale.”

“Well, now I am excited,” she said, clapping her hands softly. “Be seated and enjoy your supper.”

“Thank you, Aunt.”

Rhys backed away from the throne, being careful not to turn his back until he was off the dais again. He sat down at the page’s table next to Bothwin, page of the stables and Randalf, page of the Royal Standard.

The trumpets sounded again and the servers appeared at the door to the dining hall. They were carrying the trays laden with food for the first course. The first platters went up the dais to Morgana and her sisters to taste after which they would send each dish to one of the tables in the hall. Other servers went directly through the room laying out the accompanying dishes on all the tables. Bowls of boiled potatoes, radishes and parsnips, fruit, bread and cheese were delivered. The pages received a roasted suckling pig while the ladies were brought a roasted duck. They served themselves and then, as was customary, they had the servers exchange the platters so they could share each other’s dishes.

The trumpets blared again and the hum of conversation ceased. A troupe of madrigals started strumming their instruments and began playing one pleasant arrangement after another all through the rest of the meal.

After supper, Rhys returned to his rooms. As he walked the nearly abandoned halls of the back corridors, he listened to the sounds of his heels clicking against the stone floors. It was strange to hear the sounds of his steps so distinctly in the castle; Morgana always had the floors suitably strewn with herbs and flowers which muffled the sound and sweetened the air. They must have already been swept up by the maids and not yet replaced. He was lost in those thoughts when he heard it. The sounds of another set of footsteps following him.

Instinctively, he ducked into a darkened alcove and waited silently. After a few moments, he saw him. It was the same dark cloaked stranger who had followed Erasmus from the dining hall earlier that day. The figure moved with purpose, but as it passed by the deep alcove where Rhys hid, it stopped. The man looked around suddenly and seemed to be peering into the darkness around him. Rhys stood silent with his back pressed against the back wall of the recess, holding his breath. After a few moments, the figure turned and moved swiftly to the end of the corridor and around a corner.

In his privy chamber, Erasmus was waiting again with a basin of warm water, a washcloth and soft, lilac-scented soap. Rhys washed his face, hands and then his feet and dressed in his night clothes. As Erasmus left the room, Rhys jumped up on the window seat and sat looking up through the window. The moon was a white marble in the sky and had that odd shape it took before it disappeared. He gazed at it for a long time, wondering where Naida was tonight. He climbed into bed and fell asleep thinking of the girl whose beautiful face remained hidden behind a sheet of water.

Chapter Three

Eon

Naida was distracted by her thoughts all evening and it was visible. She sat absent-mindedly watching the other faeries dancing after supper even as her own plate lay in front of her almost untouched. Vanya and Thenidiel had already given up asking if something was wrong with her and had long since left the table to join in the dancing. They were her best friends at court, but she had absolutely no idle conversation or the patience for it that night. She could only just avoid the questioning glares she had been getting from Titania and the other priestesses during the supper proceedings. Queen Mab had excused herself from the hall early that night, so Naida felt that she had mercifully escaped being questioned about her behavior toward Pendrake earlier that afternoon. Obviously Titania would be taking it up with her soon enough though.

It was usually a carefree existence for Naida at Mab’s court; however, being somewhat of a rebel child, all the priestesses had taken it upon themselves to tend to her in the wake of her own mother’s latest and seemingly final disapproval. She was recently required to take classes with them on a myriad of topics including potion making, spell casting and midwifery. Pendrake, the librarian, had issued her with a very official looking time table of her lessons. He had also advised her it had been decided that if she would not receive her wings, marry and take up the mantle of wife and eventually mother like other noble born faery girls, then she would have to be trained to a task like a commoner.

Naida had realized that the discussion had been meant to be degrading, even condescending on his part, but it had actually been somewhat liberating for her. It marked the end of her mother’s expectations and that her future was in her own hands. A future that was wholly dependent on how she excelled at the lessons to come and then by the task she would be set to afterwards. The best part was that her task would most likely be one requiring regular trips to Earth to gather herbs and plants for potions and medicines and this would guarantee her a release from Eon at least on a monthly basis. The prospects were encouraging. She was ultimately determined to find a way to stay on Earth and she was somehow convinced that Rhys would help her.