The Knight (9 page)

The work took on a symphony-like precision and Rhys watched in amazement as the breakfast dishes rapidly assembled on the kitchen table. He turned to look at his grandmother and saw that she had stopped what she was doing to imitate him with both her hands on her chin and eyes wide open. He burst into laughter and she smiled back at him.

“Rhys! You are staring!” his grandmother called at him. “Your eyes will become stuck like that.”

She was spooning the tea leaves into the tea pots she used at breakfast every morning. She always served three different types of tea. She had put some mint leaves into one and black tea into another before pausing and putting everything down on the counter. She seemed to be thinking.

Rhys got up from his stool and picked up his grandmother’s herb basket and her tiny knife which she used for picking things in the garden.

“Let us have a look at your garden, Grandmother. It has been a long time since we picked food for the table together.”

“Aye!” she replied softly, taking his outstretched arm and letting him lead her out of the kitchen into the fresh, crisp air. “But we have not a lot of time, dear. The meal is almost ready to be served.”

They strolled easily down the paths between the rows of herbs and flowers and vegetables. Instinctively, they paused at intervals to pick spring onions, cherry tomatoes, thyme and rosemary before they turned around and walked along the outer ring of the garden. Rhys stooped close to the ground to pick fiddleheads from the fern plants and then gathered a bouquet of his sisters’ favorite flowers; meadowsweet, lavender and marigolds. His grandmother sighed as he placed the last flower into his bouquet.

“Pick six of the large top blooms for me, Rhys,” she said. “The older, the better.”

“Why, Grandmother? Those are no good for the table.”

“No boy, they aren’t, but they are excellent for tea. Your grandfather has swelling in his knees and elbows which is bad business for someone who rides as often as he does. The man practically lives in the saddle,” she added with a scoff. “The marigold will soothe the aches in his joints and quell the swelling, and then perhaps he will not fall and kill himself.”

Rhys nodded and cut the flowers for her. They were big and old, a few were even about to go to seed. They turned toward the kitchen door just as the milk-scalding maid came out to look for them.

“We are coming, Magda,” Irelli called out before the girl could say a word. “Come Rhys, the food is ready and the family is seated in the morning room, ready to come in to breakfast.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, giving her his arm.

The sky was still only barely lit and he did not want his grandmother to fall in the dark. The day always started this early at Kenilwurt. In the kitchen, his grandmother washed the fiddleheads and the large marigolds, putting the fiddleheads into a pot of roaring boiling water and the flowers into the third teapot as the three scullery maids stood neatly in a row watching her. The finishing touches to the dishes were Irelli’s responsibility. She did this for every meal, every day, and had done so since she had come into Anlawdd’s house at the age of sixteen. She turned to the egg-poaching maid and told her to pour the boiling water onto the teas and cover the teapots. She washed and trimmed the herbs expertly, placing the spring onions on the platter next to the slices of cheese, the tomatoes in a bowl and the thyme was coarsely chopped and sprinkled over the cheese curds and the rosemary stripped from the stems, finely chopped and tossed over the poached eggs. She fished the fiddleheads from the boiling water and placed them on the meat dish between the strips of bacon and the plump sausages; they immediately started soaking in the fat from the hot, fried meats.

Lastly, she took the ends off the bouquet of flowers Rhys had picked and placed them neatly into a jar of water. Irelli stood back and looked everything over while allowing the milk-scalding maid to undo the strings of her apron. Satisfied, she nodded her head and the maids began to retrieve the dishes and exit the kitchen. Rhys followed Irelli out into the hallway. They passed the scullery maids at the staff entrance to the dining room delivering the trays of food to the stewards who would place them attractively along the breakfast buffet. Rhys knew that in accordance with Irelli’s household style, the only servant who would be present when the family came in to dine would be the head steward.

When he led his grandmother into the morning room, Rhys was greeted by excited hugs and chatter. It was obvious that he had given them all a terrible fright. Everyone was overjoyed to see him up and about again.

He found his father and grandfather pouring over some maps of their lands at the desk while his sisters and his mother were sitting near the fire, all four working together on a large piece of embroidery. Erasmus stood gazing at the titles on the spines of the books along the shelves. Rhys settled his grandmother in the seat next to his mother and went to join his valet at the bookshelves.

“Everything alright, Master Rhys?”

“I asked you to stop calling me Master, Erasmus.”

“I apologize. I am just so happy to see you up and about again. We had long gone past worrying to being quite beside ourselves with grief.”

“I am glad that the gods have returned me to you, Erasmus. To all of you.”

Erasmus was taken aback by Rhys’ frank outlaying of emotion toward him.

Rhys patted the valet’s shoulder, walked across the room to the window and hopped up onto the ledge. With his back against the cold stone, he peered out over the land which was growing brighter with the rising of the morning sun. He stared out over the fields, searching the horizon as if he was expecting someone to approach from that direction.

“Who is she?” his mother whispered in his ear, startling Rhys from his thoughts.

“What do you mean, madam?” he stuttered.

“Who is the girl who has you staring out into the morning with such longing?” she asked, a little smile playing on her pink lips. “I know a little about these things, Son. Tell me, who is she?”

Her question was met by more silence from her only son. She placed her fore and middle fingers on his forehead and closed her eyes for a few seconds. Then she looked him again.

“I had a dream last night, of a fair-haired girl with striking violet eyes. She offered me lavender, sage and thistles tied with a golden thread.”

Rhys’ eyes widened at the revelation and the shock was visible on his face, but he quickly recovered and answered, “What are you speaking of, Mother? I do not understand your meaning.” But the telltale blush which had already rushed into his cheeks ensured that his mother had received her answer.

Just then the doors opened and Jules, the head steward entered to announce breakfast. He turned on his heel and led the way to the dining room. Mucuruna smiled.

“We shall have our time to talk tomorrow Rhys; do not be late for tea.”

Rhys went to assist his grandmother from her seat and escorted her into the dining room. When everyone was seated, the platters, bowls and dishes were brought one by one to the table and then Jules went back to the sideboard to retrieve the first teapot. When he had finished serving the tea, he returned to stand just off to the side between the buffet and the dining room doors.

About halfway through the meal, there was a soft knock. Jules’ face distorted slightly with a mix of exasperation and disgust. He barely moved as he swiveled to answer the door. Opening it just slightly, he whispered to the person who was outside, retrieved a small roll of white paper and waved the messenger away stiffly. He walked over to the sideboard and laid a clean napkin over a small silver plate then placed the correspondence on top of it before making his way over to the head of the table and placing the dish beside Gwallawc.

“A message for you, sir.”

“Who from?”

“Merlin, my Lord.”

There was a collective gasp from the women and a grunt from the men as Gwallawc proceeded to unroll the stiff piece of paper. He glanced over the contents then raised his eyes to scan the faces at the table. The old man shook his head slowly from side to side as a grave expression settled into the grooves and lines of his forehead.

“It’s not good news I’m afraid, but gauging from what you endured at the inn, I doubt you will find Merlin’s news surprising at all. He has written:

‘My dear friend, Gwallawc,

‘It has been a long time since we have communicated and even longer since we have been in each other’s company. Considering the state of affairs in the land at present, perhaps it is destined to be even a longer instance before we will see each other again. For now, there is much more pressing and dangerous business to be attended to.

‘I have learned that your grandson, his cousin and his valet were attacked by dark forces a few nights ago at an inn on your shire and that they barely escaped with their lives. I've written this letter to perhaps explain what they encountered and offer some little advice about how they should proceed with this journey.

‘Firstly, they were roused into battle at Kenilwurt Cross by an evil being. The king of the Drows, a dark elf by the name of Erandur has been following the boy for several weeks. We are rather concerned about the access that he has had to otherwise sacred and secure places from which he has observed Rhys. Avalon, Camelot; nowhere seems out of his reach. It was his evil minions that attacked our men and their intent that night was to wipe them from this Earth.

‘He knows of their movements and their mission now and no doubt has taken word of such to Oberon and Mordred.

‘This is for your own caution, have the men proceed with immense care. They will need all the help that can be provided for they are being watched and I am certain that further attempts will be made to stop them from completing their mission.

‘I wish them luck and they should know that I am watching over them also.

—Merlin.’”

Gwallawc looked up at the faces around the table and settled on Rhys’.

“I will send for your uncle. Knight or not, you cannot proceed without proper protection and support. This matter has just grown bigger than all of us and there’s no way we can prevail without making the right stand.”

Rhys nodded in agreement as a collective response went out over the table.

“Aye, Grandfather. Please, send for Caradoc.”

Book Two: Fae of Eon

Ubi Amor, ibi Fides. Ubi Libertas, ibi Patria.

Where there is love, there is faith. Where liberty is, there is my country.

510 A.D. — Kenilwurt, Worwick’s Shire, England

Chapter One

The conversation over dinner was lively and the food and wine were unending. Stories of the farm and interesting goings on in the neighboring regions flowed freely, punctuated regularly with bouts of hearty laughter.

It had been the most difficult time for them all when Rhys had arrived at the estate wounded by a poisoned arrow in the shoulder and had collapsed into a two day coma. Worst of all was the account they had received from Richard and Erasmus about the attack on the Brum’s Grove Inn while they rested for the night. His grandfather, Anlawdd, and father, Gwallawc, had been particularly distressed by Richard’s account of the beings that had tried to storm the inn’s walls.

In the light of the fire from Erasmus’s bombs, he had made out the figures of strange creatures that, in the dark, may have passed for men but were hunched over like beasts walking on their hind legs and had skin as black and leathery as a forest boar. Several times, Richard was sure that he had even spotted a tail. Then he told them about the one who hid his face under a hooded cloak and rode to the battlefield on a large black bear.

“Dark elves and goblins,” Anlawdd had said. “Mordred has many more evil allies that we suspected. If the Dark Elf, Erandur, was who you saw in command, then the hordes of Arcadia are already loose on Earth. I wonder why Merlin had not given us more detailed warnings.”

“Perhaps he does not yet know how many magical forces have already arrived here,” Gwallawc suggested.

“Well if he doesn’t, we must advise him. The King’s surrogate son was attacked while he slept. In an inn on his own land to boot!”

“Richard, fetch a rider,” Gwallawc had instructed. “Father, sit and pen your message immediately.”

***

When the meal was over, the stewards cleared the dishes and Irelli came in with pitchers of warm mulled wine. The aroma of spices filled the air and sent a calming feeling over everyone in the room. After a few sips in silence, Mucuruna asked everyone at the table to please take their glasses and retire to the drawing room for music and entertainment.

It’s so good to be home,
Rhys thought.

Cadwynn went straight to the cabinet and produced the playing cards while Glynnis sat on a stool and began tuning up a lute to play some music. Irelli placed a large smoking box on the table in front of the men and took a seat by the fireplace. Rhys left the room and soon returned with the fold of black velvet, behind him were several chamberlains carrying the wooden boxes and some of the other packages which he had brought on the cart from Avalon. He was grateful that Erasmus had decided to wait until he had recovered so he could honor his family himself with the many gifts he had brought. Rhys cleared his throat and everyone went silent, pausing what they were doing to look up at him.

“Suspense must be killing you all so I gladly announce that I have come bearing good tidings from our family at Avalon. It’s been a difficult homecoming for us all. I am grateful to have had such vigilant attention while recovering from the wounds of battle. Erasmus has advised me that it is customary for Aunt Morgana and her sisters to send the most exquisite gifts so I will do the presentation before we get any drunker” He looked at his father and grandfather. “Or any sleepier,” he added looking toward his sisters.

Aelwyd had begun yawning as soon as she sat down at the card table. As was expected, he started with the eldest family members.

“Irelli, my dearest grandmother, Morgana has sent you the bulbs from a wide variety of exotic flowers for your garden. She promises that the flowers will return every spring and that there are more colors present than have ever been seen in a Worwick garden before.”

He handed a pot of beautiful blooms in pink, red, white and yellow to her, saying that the planting bulbs had been placed in the storage shed. She hugged him and cooed over the pot of beautiful flowers which she vainly placed in the center of the mantelpiece. The next servant carried the pot with the colorful fish.

“These are for you, grandfather, for the pond. They are both pretty and tasty.”

Anlawdd laughed heartily and beckoned for the man to bring the pot to him. He took a long look inside of it and nodded his head in approval.

Before he could continue, Erasmus handed Rhys a piece of parchment which he quickly read and then to the entire audience, he said, “I beg your pardon, family; apparently I have gotten ahead of myself. There is a letter from Morgana la Fae and her esteemed sisters for all of you.”

Rhys cleared his throat and began reading:

“We, Morgana, Morgause and Elaine, the Three Sisters, send our loving greetings to our family at Kenilwurt. We are sending your son, Rhys to visit you before he embarks on the king’s business with which we wish him the best of luck. As a token of our familial love and to show how much we miss you all, we have authorized Rhys, your eldest, to make the following presentation in our stead.”

Rhys paused and looked up from the letter. Everyone’s eyes were on him and they seemed to be eagerly awaiting the rest of the news transcribed there by Morgana:

“To Irelli de Melusin, we would like to present to you these gifts; six barrels of summer ale, twelve sacks of grain and flower bulbs enough to fill every flower bed at Kenilwurt. For our favorite uncle, Anlawdd, please accept these fish from the Far East, and a bushel of the finest mountain grown pipeweed.

“Gwallawc, we present to you a white cow in calf with twins and a chestnut mare, Aubrey, for your stables. Please send to each of your brothers Owain, Cedric and Amren, one of these three brown cows on our behalf.”

Erasmus interjected to say that the animals had been stabled, the ale and pipeweed were in the cellar and the grain had been placed into the granary. Irelli nodded with approval. Rhys smiled and continued.

“Our favorite cousins, as you may already know, the newest generation of the Three Sisters has been identified in your beautiful daughters Glynnis, Aelwyd and Cadwynn. Thus the Twelfth Age of the Glastenning Sisterhood must yield to the Thirteenth. The title comes with many responsibilities but the most important is that of being the bearers and protectors of our family’s rich history, one which becomes more so with each generation. The keeping of the oral and written records is the most important assignment they will ever undertake throughout the rest of their lives. Of course, they will be expected to spend time in training with the Glastenning Mother at Camelot and then with us here in Avalon, but these matters are less pressing than Rhys’ present quest.

“Therefore, it is with the truest love of our hearts that we present these gifts to you. Mucuruna. and your blessed and revered daughters.”

Rhys paused his reading so that the stewards could bring in three large wooden chests. They were made of a beautiful blonde wood which was intricately carved on every edge. They placed the chests neatly in front of his mother and sisters. They were opened and everyone gasped loudly. The boxes were overflowing with garments and cloth, fabric of vibrant colors, rich embossing and embroidery, gowns shimmering with cloth of gold, precious stones and seed pearls. The white of fine cotton garments glowed in the room and the sight of lace trimmings made his sisters coo with excitement. Rhys cleared his throat and everyone returned their gaze to him. He continued reading the letter.

“
Mucuruna de Gascoigne, our esteemed cousin, we have sent cloth and clothing within three fine cedar boxes for your beautiful daughters. The boxes are the dowry chests of the Three Sisters; please advise Glynnis, Aelwyd and Cadwynn of their extreme importance. Allot deservingly from these treasures into each box as a part of each girl’s dowry. You are their mother and you know what best to do. The mahogany and gold chest contains our gift to you.”

The dark mahogany chest was brought in as the others were removed to Mucuruna’s rooms. The box was heavy but plain and it was bound with what looked like solid golden hinge work and bore a golden lock. She opened the lock herself and tentatively lifted the heavy lid. More exquisite clothing was inside, as well as pouches containing jewelry, gold and silver circlets for her head, slippers and wigs. But she could not see past the four leather bound volumes stacked to one side. She took out the first to show everyone. It was a copy of one of Homer's tragedies; it was a set of his works. She held the book to her chest and waved for the man to take the box upstairs. Rhys smiled at his mother and then continued.

“Rhys has been a pleasure to us all at Avalon, you should be proud of him. It was while speaking with him one day that I found he had already put in a portion toward his sister's dowries from his own enterprise and this prompted us to do the same. He is a remarkable student and a conscientious young man of unmatched principle and etiquette. You have done splendid work of raising him.”

Rhys’ cheeks blushed deeply as he read his aunt’s praise for him out loud for everyone to hear. His father raised his glass in silent salute and this made him blush even deeper.

“As we mentioned previously, the Three Sisters have been identified within your family and hence it is time for my sisters and I to pass the torch. We would not ask you to send your girls before Rhys has returned from his voyage as that would be asking too much of you to part with all your children at once and so soon. It would also be proper for them to be escorted on the journey by their elder brother. Therefore my cousins, begin preparations for Glynnis, Aelwyd and Cadwynn to travel to Camelot after the Christmastide celebrations this year which we invite you all to spend with us in Avalon.

“Rhys has the heirlooms of the Sisterhood and will make the presentation on our behalf. We wish you the best of health, arms of strength and the growth of wealth until we see you again.

“We remain your loving family,

“Morgana, Morgause and Elaine.”

“That was quite a letter, was it not?” Rhys said, breaking the silence.

“Indeed, it was,” Mucuruna answered. “Morgana does have a way of putting things in the open.”

“What are the Three Sisters?” Glynnis asked.

“You are,” Anlawdd responded. “Your grandmother and mother will explain it to you at another time. For now Rhys must give you each something very important. Rhys do you have the items with you?”

“Yes, I have them here.”

He reached over to the chair and took up the black velvet. He carefully opened it saying, “Morgana gave these to Erasmus for you. They are the heirlooms of the Three Sisters. My task was to select the most suitable piece for each of you and I think that I have got it right.”

He beckoned for the girls to come to him. They each got up and stood before him.

“I have selected the Cross for you Glynnis. It is true that your very name means ‘Holy’.” He placed the pouch on her palm and hugged her.

“I thought that the cameo pendant of Avalon would be best suited for Aelwyd, since you are always longing for a chance to see distant places and the brooch was definitely for Cadwynn, a golden blossom truly represents her, the flower of our hearts.”

“That was chosen perfectly, sir,” Erasmus said softly to him.

Rhys sank into his seat, exhausted, and watched as the buzz continued around him. The girls sat showing their new jewelry to their mother and discussing their importance. Their lives were on a new pinnacle of change and it was understandable that they were anxious to know all about it. His grandfather came and sat beside him; he put his hand on Rhys’ knee and patted it. Rhys turned his head to look at the older man and smiled. He had missed them all so much during his time at Avalon and it made him sad to realize that the time he had there now was so brief. It was true that he had missed Anlawdd most of all. He had always been extremely close with his grandfather and most of what he had learned about his country and his heritage had been from him. Rhys’ father, Gwallawc, had never been a talkative man and it was Rhys’ feeling that he consciously chose not to be an educator for his son in a strange effort to try to keep him a boy. That, however, had failed the moment the decision to send Rhys to Avalon had been made.

“You’ve done us all proud, Rhys. Your father may not say it, but he is filled with great satisfaction of you.”

He took a long draw from his pipe and blew the smoke out luxuriously.

“You should get some rest now. Another long day awaits and you will only have a few days to enjoy your time at home.”

Rhys smiled broadly at the news and thanked his grandfather.

“You may accompany your father and me to Melusina’s Point in the morning to place my new fish in the pond there and then we will survey the lands and the new house at Red Ditch and oversee the beginning of the wheat harvest. Would you like that?”