The Knight (15 page)

Chapter Ten

He made no sound as he entered the glen through the thick drapery of weeping willows.

It had been easy to find the way; the boy’s scent was everywhere along the path posing no challenge at all to follow. It had been much more of a challenge stealing those letters from him in Nun’s Eaton. He looked around carefully and soon saw his quarry; the tall oak tree near the edge of the pond. There was a letter posted on it addressed to Naida. He smiled to himself taking the letter from its nail and placing it into the pocket of his coat. He produced another letter from the breast of his jerkin and placed it on the nail.

That was rather easy
, he thought to himself as he turned and left the clearing.
Now all I have to do is wait for the boy to fall straight into my hands.

Further back in the dense cover of the forest, he mounted his horse and rode off. He was riding due east now, but by morning he would be heading north and well on his way to Kendal where he would finish the job and get back to his wanderings. Success in his work meant coin in his pocket but his true nature was to be free and remain among the shadows. He was beginning to get nervous being in such close contact with people and the fear of being caught seemed ever present recently.

***

Being back on the road was not as bad as Rhys had thought it would be.

He was alone with his family now without the assistance of the page or the cook, but instead of dwelling on it, they rode carefully toward the next stop, Nottingham. The road became dotted regularly with villages and farms the closer they got. He had never seen such a densely populated landscape before, but he was enjoying it. Mostly, the people were friendly and eagerly offered them food, ale and a place to wash up and rest for a while, so they no longer wasted time hunting on the road. Rhys always left them some money for their kindness.

They were outside of Kegworth by the second night and had been taken in by a fat farm woman and her six sons. He had found that despite her eager hospitality, she had no meat for her table, so Rhys trapped a dozen rabbits in the nearby woods for her. As they sat on the kitchen floor eating the hearty stew she had made, he asked where her husband was.

“He was called by our landholders to serve in King Arthur’s army two years ago. It’s been hard without him, worse since Martin and Roman, my eldest two, were called away as well last year.”

“I see,” Rhys responded.

He immediately regretted having asked the question and he moved to sit beside Richard in the corner and finish his rabbit stew. The woman’s story was not as unique as it would have seemed. All across their great land were families left fatherless and without sons, all in the name of Arthur’s united kingdom. The woman’s remaining children were young, too young to have learned the necessary skills for surviving in lean times from their father.

As his father and grandfather shared words of encouragement with the woman’s sons, Rhys and Richard planned to take the boys into the forest early the next morning and show them how to keep their mother’s pot full for the rest of the year, before they would get back on the road to Nottingham to meet and gather the next ‘Son’ Owen.

Chapter Eleven

Leicestershire had been green and wet and beautiful.

The shrunken party of six moved quickly through the county and crossed into Nottinghamshire in less than half a day and Rhys had begun to look forward to being in a big city again.

As they crested a hill which overlooked the small town of Wilford, the last outpost before Nottingham city itself, a rider approached them.

“Can you see the sigil, Caradoc?” Gwallawc asked.

“Aye!” he replied immediately. “He bears the banner of Nottingham.”

“Perhaps Lady Nottingham has sent us an escort.”

“At the speed he is riding, I doubt it, Brother,” Caradoc said. “I rather think he bears a message. An urgent one, at that.”

The lone horseman pulled up in front of them and dismounted in one leap. He ran up to Gwallawc and Caradoc, bowed his head and lifted his right hand. In it he held a folded piece of paper.

“Greetings, my lords. My lady has asked that I deliver this to you immediately and as far away from the city as I could find you.”

“What is your name, good sir? Is your lady alright? What of the boy Owen?” Caradoc inquired while the other read the letter.

“My name is Aleric, my lord. All is well, but her ladyship has moved her household to Hoveringham in anticipation of the arrival of her brothers and their men from Grantham.”

“Is there trouble brewing, Aleric?”

“Since my lordship has been more and more delayed abroad, there have been brigands and outlaws plaguing the outer regions of the county. My ladyship fears that with Sir Owen’s departure, they may become even more brazen than before.”

“She is well known to be a rather wise woman. Gwallawc, what has Lady Nottingham requested of us?” Caradoc asked.

“She asks that we meet her at her home in Hoveringham. However, if her brothers’ party has not arrived before we wish to depart for Sheffield, she asks that we depart without Owen and promises that he will meet us there before we depart for Leeds.”

“Fair enough!” the knight replied. “Aleric, escort us, if you please. Brother, lead us on to Hoveringham, if you will.”

“Yes, my lord!”

“Indeed, brother. Men, ho!”

Eon

The sun rose the next morning warming the eastern walls of Galasriniel Castle, sending sparkles across the great Lake Eleniel and catching the attention of the garden flowers.

The grass was verdant and speckled attractively with haphazard clusters of wildflowers in every color imaginable. Naida was already dressed and out walking amongst the garden paths at the edge of the reflecting pool in the royal garden. There was no one there and she breathed in deeply, noting the scent of each variety of flower as it opened in the light of dawn. There were foxgloves, golden alisons, jerusalem artichokes, china asters and honeysuckles; but her favorites were the heather and the meadowsweet.

She picked a small bouquet of the two and tied them with a ribbon from her pocket. Her almond-shaped lids closed over her violet eyes as she raised the bundle to her nose and took another deep breath. She sunk to her knees and fell back against the plush grass bringing the flowers to her nose over and over again. A gaggle of geese lowered themselves from the sky and settled noisily on the lake, making her sit up to watch the activity. She smiled. Such a simple existence was enviable to her at that moment. She surveyed the gardens again, standing and moving slowly toward the terraces. In the shade and damp of the terrace steps, crocuses were adamantly holding on to their singular snowy blooms despite the rapidly warming weather. From where she stood she admired a large cluster of them thriving in the shade of an immense elm tree.

The tree,
Siladhiel
, was in the center of the Grand Lawn and was the focal point of all the events which were held in the gardens at
Galasriniel
. Looking at it, Naida remembered all the stories her mother had told her about Mab and Oberon’s wedding which had been held beneath the majestic elm. She sighed at the memory of the story and turned away from
Siladhiel
. Her gaze fell on the rolling lawn which met the tree line of
Vardainiel
, the great forest. As she watched, some of the
Thavron vuin
were emerging from the forest carrying elaborate new bows and quivers filled with unfeathered arrows; no doubt they had just made them from the ancient trees deep in the forest. One of the faeries looked up and saw her there. The blaze of red hair caught by a gust of wind told Naida that it was her friend, Vanya. She raised her right hand in greeting and the troupe faced her and bowed. She lowered her head and they continued on their way. Naida watched them go until they disappeared through the armory gates.

Absentmindedly, she drifted to a knoll beneath the gargantuan canopy of the elm tree and sat among the wildflowers. She sat in the grass, spread out her skirt and sang as she picked bloom after bloom and placed them neatly on her lap.

Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth—for love is more delightful than wine. Pleasing is the fragrance of your perfumes; your name is like perfume poured out.

“Naida?” a voice called questioningly.

Startled, she looked around to see Minerva approaching her across the lawn. She heaved a sigh of relief before answering.

“How now, Minerva?” she said. “This is quite early to be about, even for you, friend.”

Minerva fell to the grass and hugged Naida tightly. She was obviously a little concerned about her friend.

“It is early for everyone except the birds.”

“And the flowers,” Naida added, shaking her skirt to show the blooms there.

Minerva gave a little laugh. They sat silently for a while. Minerva joined Naida in picking long stems of flowers and placing them in her lap. Soon they both instinctively started to weave the stems into garlands. When they were finished, they tied them off into circlets and placed them on each other’s heads.

“I crown thee, Naida of the Morning!” Minerva claimed.

“And I crown thee, Minerva the True!”

They giggled and then fell silent again. Naida stared at her newly idle hands; she was wringing them over and over. Minerva noticed and cleared her throat to speak.

“What is bothering you, friend? You have been distracted and very introverted these past days. Everyone is wondering if you are ill.” She paused before continuing. “Tell me what the matter is; maybe I can be of assistance.”

“Oh Minnie, there is a rock in the pit of my stomach that I cannot get rid of. It is heavy and causes my heart to ache. I do not know if I am sick, because I do not seem to have any other symptoms, but the pain gets worse every day.”

Minerva put her hand to her lips and laughed a small chuckle.

“What is so comical? I am in pain and hurt.”

“No, my dear, you are in love.”

“Do not be so silly, Minerva,” she replied, a little anger coming through in her voice. “That is utter rubbish. Love is supposed to be beautiful, wonderful. Not feel as if I had swallowed a Samhain pie whole and had it turn to stone in my belly.”

Minerva laughed again, out loud this time. The scowl developing on Naida’s face made her laugh harder.

“Enough!” Naida screamed and got to her feet. Minerva grabbed her hand to stop her and pulled until she returned to her seat in the grass.

“Answer me this Naida, do you feel this pain in your stomach when you visit with Rhys at the Everlasting Pool?”

“Not exactly; when we are together, it is more a dull ache like that which one feels when one is anxious.”

“I see,” Minerva said, nodding her head slowly. “And do you feel the pain reaching into your chest when you see him?”

“No, but that might be because my heart is beating too fast to hurt.”

“You are in love, Naida,” she summarized. “With Rhys. Not bad, in my opinion. If you could not find a faery boy, why not find the best looking human on Earth, and in Avalon to boot!”

“I love him?” Naida whispered.

“Yes, you do and I think you will find it out for yourself soon enough.”

Naida was silent as her eyes fell to her lap inspecting the wringing hands that were there.

“Naida, do not fret.” Minerva reassured her. “I do not know quite what it was, but when I saw you together in the glen on Earth, there was a shimmering about his face that was almost magnetic. I am not an expert in these things, but I think I am safe in saying that there is something more to your boy, something more than meets the eyes.”

“What are you talking about?” Naida demanded.

“Naida,” Minerva said sternly, “I think he may be the
Nestaron
.”

“Are you sure, Minerva?”

“I truly think that I am right. How is it that he found you and the Everlasting pool so easily? It is a protected place. And he sees you as well; only the gifted, those touched by the fae, can see us on Earth.”

Naida stared at her, jaw slightly dropped. “But that is just a legend. Isn’t it?” she asked.

“Not at all. The Lifetree is real, is it not?” she demanded.

“Yes, Minerva, yes it is real. Without it we all die,” Naida stuttered.

“
Nestaron
must make his way to us every few centuries and with him comes the silver branch needed to revitalize the Lifetree and keep it flourishing and sustaining us with life and magic.”

“Why does he always bring it?”

“Without the branch, he may not cross over into Eon. The crux of it is that the mystical silver apple tree grows in a place of
tempus incognitum
which is guarded by the last neutral warrior faery left in the Four Worlds. She is a fierce barbarian whose work is to cast the spells which make the orchard impenetrable. Only
Nestaron
may enter and if he answers her riddle correctly, he may cut the branch and be transported over by ringing the silver apples on it.”

“It’s just a bedtime story for babies, Minerva,” Naida insisted.

“It is history. He comes to you for love, but he comes to us with purpose. He carries the same blood within his veins as Morgana le Fae, does he not? He could just as easily be touched with the same magic as she is,” she replied soothingly. “You should be happy, Naida. He will be easily accepted here and when he asks, whatever he wishes will be granted freely.”

As Naida rolled her eyes at Minerva’s hopeful expression, a long horn blast could be heard in the distance.

“Come along, storyteller, it seems our free time has expired for the day.”

They stood and walked briskly up to
Galasriniel
and in to the breakfast hall.