Queen of none, p.23
Queen of None, page 23
“Mother,” he said, his eyes settling on me only a moment before recognizing my husband. “Sir—Sir Lanceloch, sir.” He fell to one knee, his hand on his breast, until Lance held him up. For the way the young knights adored my husband it would have stood to reason that he was a saint, or king.
Lance reached down and helped Gareth to his feet, then gestured to me.
Gareth smiled, and came to me.
I embraced him, and he held me, if not a little awkwardly. I had last held him four years before, and he was barely of a height then. “Gareth. Come, let us go somewhere more private. This is scarcely the place to have such a conversation.”
“Where are we going?” he asked, looking around as if I were to produce a magic room to retreat into.
“Your brother’s room. Lance, while you’re here, will you not join us? You are part of the family, after all. And if this goes well, we can all have dinner with the rest of the Court. It will be a lovely reunion.”
* * *
The trek to the other side of the castle, to Gawain’s quarters, was long, and by the end I was weary enough to have to lean on Lance. Gareth continually stole concerned glances my way, but I smiled and pressed on. From the look of him it appeared rumors of my existence had implied I was near death! Ah, well, I was to prove them wrong. If I was to be successful in my business with Nimue, I needed to ensure my family could hold strong—likely without me for a time.
Initially, Gawain refused our entrance. But, seeing as the liquor had subsided significantly from his blood, he relented when I pressed him. As much as he avoided me—a habit he inherited from me, and something I could not fault him for entirely—when under my fire, he reverted to my darling eldest son, who truly only wanted to please me.
When I saw Gaheris, I was able to embrace him as I wanted before. There were tears in his eyes, and to see the look of relief in his expression upon seeing Gareth assured me that their bond was still strong. That was important. Luwddoc had not been a man of means or status, not after I handily dissolved his brother’s kingdom with one sweeping gesture, but he was a man of great heart. That was why I consented to their fosterage. I knew in that single look that my decision was well founded.
And, of course, Lanceloch needed no introduction; it was apparent that the twins were as equally awed by his presence as I had thought.
“Mother—about earlier, with Nimue,” said Gawain, coming closer to me, taking my hands. He cupped his enormous pair around mine, his brows pressing together with worry.
“We all have bad days,” I said. “She said you were indisposed—and perhaps you had celebrated a little too handily at your brothers’ return. I suspect you will apologize to her immediately upon seeing her next?”
He faltered a bit, eyes moving side to side as he processed what I said. “Of course,” Gawain said, squeezing my hand in thanks. “She is not with you now?”
I shook my head. “She is a lady in waiting, dear; I have her running errands as she ought. Now…tell me, Gawain, where is the decent furniture?” I asked, gesturing around.
“I, uh,” said Gawain, staring at the two chairs in the center of the room and the rickety table between. “I have not gotten to that part yet.”
“Three years,” I said to him, folding my hands at my chest and shaking my head. “Three years have passed, and the best you can do is assemble, what, old crates?” I clapped and turned to Haen, who had come in with another servant of Lanceloch’s. “Haen, bring some chairs. Nice chairs. Red will do—but keep them sturdy, mind you. No flimsy Avillionian affairs.”
Gawain frowned, then looked out the murky window.
“As we wait for seats,” I said, walking a semi-circle in front of my sons, admiring them though they likely did not know it, “I need to settle some matters with you all. Gareth and Gaheris—I am overjoyed at your return, as is your step-father.” Lance nodded, smiling as comfortably as he could
I was not as tired as I had been the night before, but it would not do without a little pity. I gestured Lance over to me. He complied, a little concerned, but I continued speaking anyway, trying to ignore the look of pity in his eyes. Good, they were paying attention.
“I am not well,” I said simply. “It is why Nimue is here, why I do not leave my room often. Lanceloch knows this, and he has kept me to my own, allowing me to live my days in peace, as I desire, rather than be bothered with the gossip and stress of the Court. You are not women; you cannot understand what it is like…” I wanted to say, to be forgotten, but the words caught in my throat. Even my sons forgot me.
“I thought she was a servant,” said Gawain. Gods, but he was sulking.
“She is a kinswoman,” I corrected, holding up a finger. “She is my lady in waiting, and my proxy. I trust her to make decisions on my behalf, and to leave me in peace. But that is not to say that I will not be here for my sons, should they need me.”
Gareth look relieved, Gaheris a little confused. Gawain just stared.
“Which leads me to the reason I walked all the way down to the kitchens and up to your… quarters,” I said, trying to stress to Gawain how important the appearance of his apartment was in the grand scheme of things. I stared at him. “Your father would be ashamed—ashamed, I tell you, that you ever lay a hand on your brother, and in public of all places! I am mortified. Gods know I have reached out my hand to you all again and again, only to be brushed aside, but if this is how you conduct yourself at court, I will not hesitate to use what power I have to influence Arthur. Knights do not behave like common peasants, resorting to fisticuffs before half the realm.”
I took a deep breath and turned to the twins, who were almost shoulder to shoulder; Gaheris’s mouth had gone agape, and I wanted to laugh. Apparently, my little speech actually frightened him.
“You two are on the brink of manhood. Your uncle Luwddoc gave you his food, his drink, his shelter, his attention and expertise so that you would honor him.” As I said this, some strange expression flitted across Gareth’s face, but was replaced by a steely set of his jaw. I would enquire later. Perhaps as Nimue. “I want to express how important first impressions are at court, and stress that every eye will be on you, judging you all the more because you are Arthur’s nephews. It is not fair, I know, but it is the reality of the matter.”
“Yes, Mother,” said Gaheris, averting his eyes altogether. “I am sorry—I am terribly sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about, Gaheris,” I said, turning to him and cupping his cheek in my hand. “You were a peacemaker through this. It is most admirable.”
“Thank you, Mother” he said, meeker than I would have liked. But he almost smiled.
“From now on, I do not want to hear word of this. If anything happens, I promise you, either Morgen or Nimue will know, and then I will know. Can I have your word? All of you?”
They consented, even Gawain. He looked me straight in the eye; he meant it.
“Lance?” I said, beckoning him forward. He did not hesitate as most men would have; I was throwing him to my brood, but as always, he was up for the task.
“It is not my place to lecture you,” he said, his voice low, tolerant. He fit his hand over the pommel of his sword, swaying from side to side a bit. He looked to Gawain: “Least of all to you, Gawain. I know there has been little love between us since your mother and I married—but you have to understand, I admire Anna Pendragon a great deal. I have seen what she has given up for the love of her realm, for her King. We would all do well by learning from her example. And if she needs peace and quiet, by gods, we’ll give it to her.”
“Thank you, Lance,” I said, softly. It was a most impressive piece of improvisation.
“Which is why,” continued Lance, “I will be taking Gareth as my squire tomorrow, at your knighting. I know, it is a bit of spoiling the surprise, but I want you to know how important it is for me to prove to you—to you all.” He addressed Gawain this time. “To prove how much I value the contribution of this family, how much it means to me, as the father of your half-brother, that we remain steadfast as a whole.”
I wondered if Lance had any idea what Gawain called him earlier in Nimue’s presence. Of course, he couldn’t have known. But still, words said in drunkenness cut no less deep, not for me. Gawain was drunk, and testing Nimue.
“I will be taking Gaheris,” Gawain said, with something that resembled a grunt.
“You weren’t going to tell us?” Gareth asked, still recovering from the shock. Lance had yet to take a squire; it was a remarkable honor. I was just as surprised as he.
“Arthur said we should only reveal it if necessary, that… well, you know, he loves a good surprise,” Gawain said, smiling a little. The expression changed him utterly, sloughed a decade of worries off his brow. I wondered if he would ever settle down with a good woman to bed, the same one every night; but even then, I knew him to be a man of inconstancy. It was better that he please a woman every now and again than subject one to his temper and infidelity every day of their married life. I had made the right choice in my counsel to him.
When we finished talking, Lance embraced all the boys. He was scarcely five years older than Gawain, and yet the age between them seemed so much more considerable. Perhaps it was marrying me, or the suffering we’d both gone through, but he had become more of a man than I ever expected him to be. There was softness within him once, in his manner, in his hesitation; but not now. No, he was strength and hardness, tempered now and again with kindness, pity, mercy. I wondered how similar he was to an actual sword, thinking about what Vyvian had said so long ago, how he was Arthur’s greatest weapon.
* * *
The next day I attended the boys at their knighting, dragged from my depths by a very insistent Lance, who—as unusual as it was those days—actually slept in our apartment. He promised he would let me alone once the excitement died down, but after the speech to the lads, he said, I had to back it up with my support. Chances were, they’d forget in a matter of days, though Lance promised to be there as a constant reminder to their oaths.
I had not expected Lance to come to my side so readily, not to mention take Gareth under his wing. It was a brilliant stroke. The boys needed reigning in, and Gareth practically worshipped Lance. He and Gaheris possessed the frames, but not the form. Not yet. And Gawain and Lanceloch were the best in the knighting business. With no sign of war, at least not for the mean time, I knew I would be able to go about my business in relative peace. Knights, as I knew so well, were kept busy, constantly training and perfecting themselves. It was part of Arthur’s hold on the minds and imaginations of the whole realm. To see a knight was to see a shining representative of the great king. Or so he thought.
He had many ideas, my brother, many of which of course are well known.
After my first foray as Nimue, I felt untethered to my own life. Morgen was right: I wanted to be back in that young, fresh body again. But the incident with my boys made the transition more difficult. I was exhausted in a thousand ways, even though I had worked very hard to maintain my strength.
The second time I transformed was not, as I thought it would be, out of simple desire, but rather necessity. For my plan to work, Nimue needed a life, and she needed to be seen.
Because, you see: Merlin was about again.
Merlin often traveled in those days, finding that now his greatest prophecy—the one about Arthur being the rightful ruler of all Braetan—had come true, he had a great deal of time on his warty hands. Not to mention he disposed entirely of Morgen and her ill-gotten child. No doubt he was trying to unspool that catastrophe and feeling lonely.
I heard that Merlin returned and was staying not far from Hwyfar’s quarters, with a group of purported Ascomanni soothsayers, remnants from the last war. According to Morgen, he had acquired a new interest in various methods of prognostication, stemming from his failure to prevent Llachlyn from being born and what those ramifications might engender.
According to Morgen, Merlin was certain that the girl would be no threat, since she was no man. How wrong he was to be.
In truth, I worried that Nimue would not appeal to him, or that he would intimidate me, and I would lose control of my guise. Gods, he frightened Morgen, and she was more accomplished than I could ever dream of being.
The transformation the second time, however, was quicker and less painful, which gave me hope. Perhaps my body was getting used to being stretched and molded. Almost immediately, I was suffused with a feeling of exhilaration, euphoria. I had not blacked out, either, which made the transition easier. I simply changed into Nimue and let her work as I watched.
Nimue
It was morning, bright and beautiful, two days after the twins had been named full knights, and as Nimue walked about the castle, taking in the sights and sounds, she caught a whiff of fresh earth from outside; spring was coming. Gods, had she ever felt spring before? When had she last splashed in a stream, or run in a field? It was difficult to say. Before life with her mistress, her memory was a long, cold winter, full of darkness, waiting for spring.
“Pardon me, milady,” a low voice said as Nimue, not paying attention, nearly lost her balance and careened directly into him.
A little dazed, she turned and hit the stone wall, knocking her head considerably in order to compensate. It was far from an elegant move.
“Are you quite well?” he asked
She blinked through double vision to see a dark-haired knight staring down at her, a cruel scar down the side of his face; but he was no ugly man. He was thinner, less brawny than some of the other nights, and old as Arthur at least. His lips were quick to smile, and his eyes were kind.
Bedevere. Gods, it is Bedevere.
“Be…Best Sir—I am sorry,” Nimue said, catching herself.
“I do not believe I have the pleasure of your acquaintance,” he said, taking Nimue’s arm carefully, appropriately.
He has a remarkable fellow, Nimue. Courteous in every sense. That I have corrupted our love is no trivial fact, but you can trust him. Be at ease.
“Nimue, Sir—”
“Bedevere,” he said.
“Sir Bedevere?” she said, falling into a low curtsey, far as she could manage—which was far, what with the limber legs. “It is an honor. I have heard so much of you from my mistress, the Lady Anna du Lac.”
“Ah, so you’re the Nimue she mentioned,” he said. His eyes kindled when she said, “Lady Anna.”
Damn the man, but he does not relent.
“The same,” Nimue said.
“I would offer you escort, but I have been summoned to the king himself. Are you lost? Perhaps I could find a stray knight to conduct you safely.”
“No, thank you,” Nimue said, dipping into another superfluous curtsey. “I am summoned elsewhere, myself. To meet with Lady Hwyfar, on a matter of the Queen’s dresses.” It was half true; she did intend on seeing Hwyfar, as soon as she had managed a glimpse or two at Merlin.
He looked a little surprised but nodded. “Well, far be it from me to judge an Orkney lass. I have no doubt you’ve tricks up your sleeve. But if you desire any escort, please, do not hesitate to let me know. And you—if you would, let the Lady Anna know I hope she is recovering well. It was good to see her sons’ knighting ceremony. They will make us all proud.”
Gods, he knows. How could he not? Gaheris favors him so very much.
“Yes,” Nimue said, forcing the smile. “Of course, I shall let her know this evening when we are to have our tea.”
“Excellent. And if there is anything she—or you—require, do not hesitate to seek me out,” he added, a little desperately, perhaps.
Oh, Nimue. I wish I had the strength to have done with him, completely. I have tried, gods; I have tried. But Bedevere has a habit of lingering, of returning again and again… and my heart is bruised from it.
It was not far to Merlin’s chambers, but Nimue did not want to appear suspicious, so she wandered a little. Since Bedevere’s appearance, the mistress had gone quiet.
Hwyfar’s room was around the corner, and the door to the quarters Merlin had taken—far from the tower that was his own, which was strange in and of itself—was barred shut. She thought she could smell sage burning. It would be quite remarkable to see what was going on inside.
Nimue found her way to one of the large stained-glass windows overlooking the southern rise. She could see a vague hint of green on the grass now, here and there, as if the blades of vegetation were beginning to remember what they truly were. The sun helped. Today was warm enough to shirk furs and blankets, and she had worn a simple pair of wool-lined slippers, comfortable and practical, but a little daring, too. They went only to her ankles, and beneath her dress at least a foot of skin showed. Today’s dress was green, a brilliant emerald, tight about the waist and breasts. It was the height of fashion, a gift from Hwyfar.
“It is quite a view; rather easy to get caught up in it.”
Nimue did not have to turn to see it was Merlin; she could feel him behind her, sure as a pillar of ice. She had been made for this, and hatred burned already in her breast. Instead of turning in awe, or admiration, as with Bedevere, she decided on a different approach.
“Even now it is so much greener than Orkney,” she said.
“I have only been to Orkney once,” Merlin continued, the low resonant voice surprisingly warm. “And even then, in the summertime, it was far colder than my liking. I think, one of these days, I shall retire to the Continent. I hear Gaul is significantly less severe.”
