‚Where, daughter?' he asked. ‚I see no one.'
I pointed into the direction of the stranger and stopped. My father was correct. The stranger was gone. My heart continued to beat furiously in my chest.
‚What if he goes straight to Arthur?' I asked anxiously. ‚You cannot be found out this way.'
‚Or what?' he leveled a calm gaze at me. ‚You are still thinking as though you are a Keeper of Fate. You know that you are not,' he admonished. ‚We do not bow to the whims of the Fates.'
‚Ares,' my mother interrupted gently, laying a hand on his arm. ‚There is no reason to change anything that happened here. We should do our best to simply find the sword and leave this place as we found it.'
She looked lovely today in a peach colored flaunt and ivory underskirt. The overskirt was delicately threaded with webs of tiny pearls. An external corset was tightly laced up at the back and I had to wonder if my father had helped her dress this morning, since I knew that I had not. Her chestnut hair gleamed in the light as she ducked her head toward me, ignoring Lancelot’s grumblings.
‚I’m sorry, my sweet,' she apologized, reaching out to stroke my cheek. ‚We didn’t think that anyone could see us. We’ll be more careful.'
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‚That is the problem,' I muttered. ‚You didn’t think. And please don’t refer to my father as Ares. He is Lancelot here.'
She smiled good-naturedly, not bringing up the fact that here in Camelot, she was queen and I should not be so mouthy. She was accustomed to my cheekiness, however.
I had never managed to overcome it in any life that we had ever lived.
She linked her arm with mine. ‚Come,' she soothed me. ‚Let us find some breakfast.' I allowed her to lead me from the flowering gardens, but I couldn’t resist a parting shot at my father.
‚You’re late for morning drills,' I called over my shoulder. I could hear him laughing as we rounded the corner and I rolled my eyes.
My mother and I made our way to the main banquet hall, smiling at each curtsying well-wisher along the way. Everyone in this kingdom was enamored with Guinevere.
As always, she had retained her customary charm in this life. Most people clamored to please her.
As we entered the heavy double doors, I took in the festive breakfast atmosphere.
The long tables were lined with rows of candles, ribbons and vivid purple violets, King Arthur’s favorite. The candles were as yet unlit- they were saved for dinner this evening. There were also massive chandeliers made from candles hanging over head, ready for lighting at night fall. Right now, though, the morning sun provided quite enough light, even in this darkened room.
Guinevere took a seat and before she could even move, servants had rushed to provide her with silverware, a linen napkin and a plate of steaming breakfast. I shook my head. It wasn’t merely the fact that she was queen that made people fall in love with her. It was her charm, Aphrodite’s charm. She smiled a brilliant grin at the servant in front of her and dug into her plate with relish.
I waited patiently for mine to arrive, which it did several minutes after Guinevere’s.
Soft white bread, thick peppered bacon slices and warm venison were piled high on the pewter plate in front of me and my mouth watered. I was ravenous.
What I wouldn’t give for some nectar from the Spiritlands, but I settled instead for tepid milk in a heavy mug. Thick cream topped it off and I felt the cool foam stick to my upper lip. My breakfast wasn’t ambrosia and nectar, but it would do.
As I gazed thoughtfully around the room, I examined the servants bustling about.
They all had contented expressions on their faces. They were happy to be working for Arthur, relieved to be safe within the protection of his castle. The kingdom outside of these walls was in a state of unrest and had been for decades. In addition to attacks from beyond our borders, there were even worries of being attacked on the roads by thieves and vagrants. Arthur was doing his best to reign that kind of behavior in and he had made great strides, but it did still exist.
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But the servants here in the castle’s compound had nothing to fear. I stared out the nearest open window and watched the knights from the roundtable and Arthur himself practicing hand-to-hand combat. They were without their armor this morning and many of them were shirtless, their tanned skin already glistening in the early morning heat. All of them were perfectly toned, a testament to their physical prowess. Not a soul in the kingdom wanted to face these knights in battle.
I sought out my soul mate and found him sparring with Arthur’s brother, Kay. I smiled. Out of all of the knights, besides Lancelot and Lucan, Kay was probably my favorite. Good-natured and strong, he stood a head taller than even Lucan. He always had a smile and a good word for everyone, something that I appreciated. Even in a dire or bleak circumstance, Kay attempted to put everyone around him at ease.
Behind them, I saw Gawain, Arthur’s nephew, going hand-to-hand with Tristan. It seemed strange to refer to him as Arthur’s nephew, because since Arthur’s sister was so much older than he was, he and Gawain were the same age. Gawain’s younger brother, Gareth, was fighting with the king by the edge of the courtyard lawns.
Arthur, a superior swordsman, was clearly letting the younger knight gain the upper hand and he laughed as he began to hold Gareth at bay.
‚Young pup,' he laughed, ‚You must use your legs to anchor you. They’re stronger than your arms!'
Gareth growled and lunged again, errantly trying to use his forearms to hold off the King’s advances. He wasn’t strong enough and Arthur easily toppled him to the ground. Laughing again, Arthur reached a hand down to help him up.
Gareth shook his head good-naturedly as Arthur slapped him on the back. As they rough-housed and joked with the others, I turned my attention back to my mother. I found that she was watching me with a gentle expression.
‚They’re beautiful, aren’t they?' she observed, shifting her gaze to the knights outside. I nodded in agreement.
‚But we aren’t here to appreciate them, are we?' she asked, leveling her dark gaze at me. I shook my head with a sigh.
‚We must find the sword,' she needlessly reminded me. ‚And I know where it is.
But the problem will be… getting it.'
I stared at her in confusion. ‚What do you mean? It’s right there.' I gestured toward Arthur’s hand where Excalibur, his famous sword, gleamed. Guinevere stared at me with raised eyebrows.
‚Harmonia, that isn’t the sword that he pulled from the stone. Think back.'
And at her words, I did remember. The sword from the stone and Excalibur were two separate swords. And the king didn’t use the sword that he had pulled from the stone. Merlin had decreed that whoever pulled it from the stone would be the rightful king of Camelot and of course, Arthur had done so… all according to Fate’s plan.
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He kept that sacred sword safe. Excalibur had been a gift and was the sword that he used in battle and in practice. I sighed.
‚So where is it?' I asked. ‚I don’t recall that part.'
‚I’m not certain,' she admitted, ‚It’s not public knowledge, of course, and he hasn’t mentioned it to me. But I believe it to be at his parents’ home. He has spoken about a secret room where his father hid hundreds of books to protect them from invaders and looters. I would bet anything that he has hidden the sword there as well. No one would think to look there.'
‚So we will need to travel to his foster parents’ home and ransack it to find the sword?' I raised my eyebrows. ‚That doesn’t seem polite.'
My mother rolled her eyes. ‚You know that no one is there. After his parents died, Arthur kept their home vacant… just another indication that I am correct. He doesn’t want to chance anyone disturbing his hidden things.'
‚Perhaps,' I acknowledged, picking up my last piece of bread and chewing on it.
In every life, bread had been a comfort food for me. There was no need to change that now.
As I pondered my mother’s idea, I felt someone staring at me. I turned, scanning the busy dining hall. In the midst of the clamor surrounding us, a lone figure dressed in dark clothing was sitting a short distance from us, all alone. I would recognize his dark eyes anywhere. He was the stranger from the gardens.
He stared at me, a direct stare that wasn’t friendly, but neither was it unfriendly.
He lifted his hand in a subtle greeting, then let it drop. He knew that I recognized him.
I could see it on his face and somehow, I knew that that fact pleased him.
He wasn’t handsome nor was he ugly. He was of average height, his hair light brown. He wasn’t remarkable that I could see. I turned to point him out to my mother, but was interrupted by noise and clattering.
The knights were filing in from the courtyard, hungry for breakfast. Servants were already hurrying to fill heaping trenchers for them. Gawain grabbed one and made his way toward the queen and I. But he too was distracted by the stranger.
He stopped short in his tracks, then grinned. Clearly, the stranger wasn’t a stranger to him.
‚Mordred!' he shouted joyfully. ‚You’ve come! At long last!'
He set his plate down beside me and rushed to embrace the man who had seen Guinevere and Lancelot together earlier this morning.
Clapping the man’s back, Gawain shouted to Arthur.
‚Your highness, my youngest brother has finally arrived! We have found our final knight!'
Arthur smiled in welcome at the same moment that my knees turned weak and my heart seemed to still in my chest.
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Mordred. The youngest brother of Gawain and Gareth. I remembered him now, with sickening clarity. He would be the downfall of us all.
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Chapter Six
Arthur made his way across the crowded hall to greet Mordred, his youngest nephew. Clasping Mordred’s hand, he grinned broadly, clearly happy to see him.
‚Welcome, young nephew,' he greeted him. ‚I trust your travels here were safe and uneventful? I expected you last week. Did you run into a complication?'
Mordred turned calm eyes toward his king and uncle, quietly deferent but not overly so. My hackles slightly rose, but no one else seemed bothered.
‚Nothing that I could not handle, uncle,' he replied. ‚Some minor issues along the road. I am blessed to have inherited your battle prowess and find myself delivered to you safe and sound this day.'
‚I don’t know,' Arthur drawled thoughtfully. ‚You might be too modest to be my relation.'
He stroked his chin and everyone around laughed. He could say what he wanted, but Arthur was fairly modest himself. He had single-handedly restored order to Camelot, yet he acted as though he was any other knight from his round table. Of course, part of the knight’s code was to practice humility. Arthur expected the same from himself as he did from his knights.
As everyone laughed, I saw that the humor in Mordred’s voice didn’t reach his eyes and a cold, unsettling feeling formed in my belly. The knowledge that he would eventually topple everything that Arthur worked for put me instantly on edge. And Lancelot and Guinevere had inadvertently given him even more ammunition.
Guinevere rose from her breakfast, crossing to Arthur’s side. Although my father was her soul mate, she did harbor true affection for King Arthur. It would be impossible not to. He was a decent man with a good heart. I felt a sense of regret for him. His life should have ended better. I brushed my melancholy aside. I couldn’t change it.
Guinevere nodded daintily to Mordred as she clasped Arthur’s arm. Out of my periphery, I noticed Lancelot’s eyes narrow. I hid a smile before returning my attention to Guinevere.
‚Welcome to Camelot, nephew,' she murmured. ‚I trust you will be happy here.'
‚My lady,' Mordred bowed low. As he rose, he kissed her slender hand. ‚I have seen so many interesting things already. Camelot is full of surprises. I have no doubt that I will enjoy my new home.'
My blood ran cold as Mordred appraised my mother and she returned his stare.
She knew. I could see on her face that she knew who he was, but no one else would have guessed her anxiety. Her lovely face was as smooth as ever.
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‚Please let me know if you require anything,' she told him politely, before she curtsied quickly to Arthur and returned to my side. As the men talked over their breakfasts, she sank back down next to me.
‚What a chilling man,' she murmured into my ear. I nodded.
‚He is as cold-hearted as they come,' I agreed. ‚I can sense it.' Guinevere’s eyes glazed over and I knew that she was remembering the last time we had been here.
Even though the Fates were currently imprisoned in Ogygia, they were still firmly in control here in Camelot…because our little skirmish on Calypso’s island had not yet happened. Their spells to bind our memories were still active. In my mortal body here, I could remember Heleyne’s memories- everything that had happened up until this point in time. Everything in the future was hidden to me.
Although, I was finding that my awakened goddess mind was somehow providing glimpses into the future here that I would not have had otherwise. The glimpses were random and limited, and were both welcome and frustrating.
I somehow knew that Mordred would be the downfall of Arthur, but I couldn’t remember exactly how. I could see on Guinevere’s face that she was the same.
‚Don’t fret,' I soothed her. ‚It will all work out.'
She nodded.
‚I know. I just wish I could remember more.' She shook her head sadly.
‚Perhaps it is for the best that we cannot,' I suggested. ‚We must leave here without interfering. The Fates might not control us anymore, but I do not know what effects tampering with history would have. We should not take that chance.'
‚I agree,' she replied dejectedly. ‚But I do not have to like it.'
As she spoke, she gazed again at the knights good-naturedly bickering amongst each other as they ate. Arthur was sitting next to Mordred, dipping his bread crust into bacon grease as he chatted with the man who would eventually betray him.
‚No,' I agreed as I carefully stood and arranged my skirts. ‚You do not. And neither do I. Come. Let us take a walk or maybe even go for a ride.'
That perked her up. She did enjoy horseback riding. She kindly thanked the servant who came to clear our plates and we made our way out of the crowded dining hall onto the manicured paths surrounding the castle.
As we strolled, I remembered what these grounds had looked like when Arthur had first assumed the crown. The castle had been crumbling, the grounds overgrown.
Within months of winning over the people, Arthur had completely restored the castle and had overhauled the castle grounds to turn them into the beautiful gardens that they were today.
He felt that taking such care of things would restore the will and the confidence of the people. And I had to agree. It had certainly accomplished that. Of course, having a group of strong, well-trained knights on his side hadn’t hurt, either.
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Pausing briefly, Guinevere bent to pick a dark red rose. She was partial to them and had requested many of them planted around the palace grounds. Pricking her finger on a thorn, she stuck it in her mouth and sucked on it.
‚You know what they say,' I reminded her wryly. ‚Every rose has a—‚
‚Shut it,' she growled playfully. ‚I might need stitches.'
I rolled my eyes. As I did, I thought I saw something move behind me. Turning, there was nothing there. There was only a striped ta
bby cat from the stables batting a pebble across the path. She chased the tiny stone into the brambles and disappeared.
‚What?' Guinevere asked, concern wrinkling her forehead.
‚Nothing,' I answered. ‚I thought something was behind us, but it was only a cat.'
‚Silly girl,' she grinned. ‚Let us ride.'
I understood her need to get away from here just for a bit and try to forget what we were facing, so I nodded and we quickly continued to the stables. The old toothless groomsman, Reagan, greeted us. His wiry gray hair stuck out of in tufts beneath his felt hat, making him look slightly deranged. He was a gentle soul, though, and would never hurt a fly.
‚Reagan, we wish to have a ride on this beautiful day,' Guinevere announced, passing him to stand at the door of her mare’s stable. Her horse, Flower, tossed her head as Guinevere stroked her nose. ‚We shall need our horses saddled.'