Excerpt: The House of Pendragon III: The Noble

Later, I faced the Queen alone in her private chamber. I was surprised to see that my father was not present. The Queen did not give me time to reflect on that, however.
“Shut the door, Helin,” she said.
My name is Lin. I wanted to scream the words. I clenched my fists.
The Queen sat in her cushioned chair near a brazier, embroidery hoop in her lap, regarding me from the far side of the room. I suppose she was dressed as fashionably as she ever was—displaying her royal finery even in private. Even when I had been a part of the realm of women in her sewing room, I had never paid much heed to my clothes. Or anyone else’s for that matter. The only thing I knew with any certainty was that the gown she wore was a cold shade of blue.
I crossed to stand before her. A tapestry covered that portion of the floor where she walked from her bed to the brazier. She did not invite me to sit.
Why did we bother? We both knew this meeting would get us nowhere.
“My Queen,” I said. I did not bow or salute.
“I want to talk about your behaviour in the garden this morning.”
“What is there to talk about?” I asked. “Gareth wasn’t forcing himself on me. He—“
“You invited his advances?” she said.
Could I admit to her that I thought I might love him?
No. That was too personal to confide to the Queen. I could not risk a callous comment by her to mar what I felt for Gareth.
But she was wrong about what happened between Gareth and me. It just had. A kiss had led to . . .
Even now the memory stirred my body to respond as if he were present and caressing me.
“He kissed me and I liked it. He makes me feel . . .”
“You are a princess, Helin,” she said. Her needle flashed as she pushed it through the material in her hoop. “You should act like one. Instead I find you in my private garden, half-undressed, like a cheap tavern whore.”
Whore?
That’s what Modred had called me when he raped me. Now from the woman who was supposed to be my mother? I seemed to have no value to her either.
At first I was too shocked to move. Then, I didn’t want to control myself. My hand rose and I slapped the Queen’s cheek.
“I am not a whore,” I screamed.
The Queen pressed her hand to her bright red cheek. She glared up at me from where she sat.
Slowly, she set her embroidery hoop aside and rose. Her skirt rustled as she stepped toward me.
“How dare you, girl?” she said. “I am your mother and your queen. You will respect me.”
My eyes narrowed. Once I had wanted her to love me. Once I had wanted to her to be my mother.
“You have not earned my respect,” I said, (throwing the words at her like stones). “All you did was give birth to me, and then throw me away.”
The Queen’s lips thinned with her anger.
“I did what I thought was best for you.”
“And we can all see how well that has turned out,” I said, touching my wristband. “I think I would prefer not having your assistance in my affairs from now on, thank you (very much). Especially in dealing with Gareth. I think I know what’s best for me and for my heart in this instance.”
“You’re just a girl. Barely sixteen.”
I could hardly believe her words of hypocrisy. “Don’t tell me you are concerned with my youth now,” I said. “Not after you wanted to marry me off to the highest bidder when I was merely twelve because my monthly flux made me a woman and capable of breeding. I was old enough for that. What is so different about today?”
“And what could a child possibly know of matters of the heart? Or how to choose the best husband for herself? A man who can protect her?”
I laughed at the naïf ness of her words. As if having a husband answered all a girl’s dreams.
“A man hungry for power, who only wants the power I bring him as the Pendragon’s daughter. I have eyes. I have ears. Men like that do little to guard their thoughts,” I said. “But what about me?”
“What about you?” she said, (her voice cold and lashing). “Chit! You are of royal birth and have duties. Your duty comes first. Duty to Camelot and to Britain. And there are certain expectations of behaviour within the court of Camelot. I will not have my daughter rutting like an animal in public. Have you no shame, Helin?”
“I wasn’t rutting,” I screamed. “I am not ashamed of what I was doing with Gareth. It was what I wanted. You can’t make me be ashamed of wanting his kiss or his caress.”
“You will obey our rules of propriety. In Camelot—“
“Propriety? From you? Or is your infidelity with Lancelot sanctioned by the church now?”
The colour drained from the Queen’s face.
I had struck a nerve. Could it really be true? I hadn’t believed the rumour. Now?
“Don’t deny it,” I said, holding my ground. I pushed forward. “The entire court knows of your affair with Lancelot, and you dare call me a cheap tavern whore?”
I saw her hand rise. Saw the blow coming. I drew upon my warrior training for my reaction. I did not deflect her blow. Her hand did land across my cheek. It stung, but I was beyond caring about such a small pain. I summoned my strength and grabbed her shoulders, unable to control my anger any longer. Hating the woman who had given birth to me.
I glared into her eyes.
She squirmed under my intense gaze.
I tightened my grip, digging my fingers deeper into her flesh.
She gasped. I could see the pain reflected in her eyes.
“You sent me to Morgause. You made me this way,” I said through clenched teeth. “This is the only way I know how to be.” I shoved her away and she landed sprawled on the floor.
Her eyes were wide with surprise and fear.
I stood over her prone form for several heartbeats, our gazes locked together.
Her breast rose and fell with her ragged breathing.
I enjoyed the essence of her fear. I enjoyed my power over her.
“Helin,” she said.
I shook my head. I would endure no more.
“My name is Lin,” I said. But I did not feel triumphant. Instead I felt hollow as I realized that I would never have a mother. I would never understand her, nor would she ever understand me. She would always be merely the Queen, my father’s wife.
I left her where she lay and walked out into the torch lit corridor, leaving her door wide open.
“Guard!” I heard her shout from behind me.
I steeled myself for what was to come. There was no point in taking another step. Why make this harder for the man who would have this duty thrust upon him?
Of course I would have to pay. I had just attacked the High Queen. I had just accused her of treason against the Pendragon.
A guard rushed past me into the Queen’s chamber and returned barely a few heartbeats later.
He was a soldier I had worked with a few times; guard duty on the wall. A few sparring matches.
I did not resist him when he gripped my arm. “Your Highness,” he said. “By order of the Queen, I’m afraid I must do this.”
“I understand,” I said.
I kept my gaze fixed straight ahead as we passed through the corridors of the palace. But I could hear the conversations stop short; could feel the stares as we walked by.
Outside, the air was chilly as the sun rode lower towards sunset. The wind sliced through the wool of my tunic.
The guard steered me towards the military forum. There was a small building near the armoury that served as a guard room. He unlocked the door. The shack was not built for comfort. The square chamber had neither windows nor furniture. No brazier for heat. The dirt floor would be cold and damp to sleep upon.
Not wanting to make trouble for my guard, I entered.
The guard stood with his hand on the door a moment. “If it were up to me, Your Highness,” he said. “I would have set you in your chamber within the palace, with your word to remain.”
I nodded. “Thank you,” I said. “I’m sorry the duty fell to you.”
I sat down in a corner to wait things out as the guard pulled the door closed, leaving me in total darkness. I could hear the rattle as he re-locked the door.
Alone and no longer on alert, my body plummeted from its heightened sense of alarm and quaked as I realized the enormity of what had just happened. I slumped forward, resting my head on my knees.
My stomach reminded me that I had not eaten in several hours. But it would not be the first meal I had ever missed. But those days had been a few years ago. All the same, my stomach would have to wait.
****
I had no way of marking time in the dark. Sometime later, I heard the rattle of the lock. Were they coming to take me to the Great Hall? Would there be a trial?
I stood and began to brush the dust off of my tunic and trews. Would they give me time to tidy myself before I had to stand before the Pendragon and his judgement?
The light from the lantern blinded me at first. My hands rose to protect my eyes from the brightness.
“Lin?” my father said.
In spite of my heart sinking, I snapped to attention. “Sir,” I said.
“At ease,” he said. The Pendragon stood in the open doorway.
The sky behind him was dark. How many hours past sunset?
I relaxed as best as I could, trying not to shiver too noticably. I had been dreading the moment I would have to face him. What did he think of what I had done?
He hung the lantern on a hook near the door.
“Here,” he said, stepping inside. He undid the dragon broach from his cloak. “You will need this tonight more than me. You must be freezing already.” He drew the scarlet wool off his shoulders and handed the cloak to me.
I hesitated but a heartbeat. The gods, I was numb with the cold. I took the cloak and wrapped it around myself—it was still warm from his body.
“Thank you, sir,” I said.
He nodded. “You could have sent for you cloak,” he said.
“I didn’t think of it in the palace. I was too much in shock.”
Dragging the ground at my feet, the scarlet cloak made me feel smaller than ever within its warm folds. I could never fully live up to my father. I could never follow in his wake. No one could. For he was more than merely my father. He was the Pendragon.
Wfft! Perhaps the Queen was right. I was merely female. Outwardly hardly more than a chit of a girl. What made me think—
“Sa,” the Pendragon said and sat down. With a terse nod, he indicated that I should join him.
I settled back down on the damp ground beside the Pendragon, wrapped tightly in his cloak. My hands were finally beginning to warm up.
He regarded me with his blue eyes. (Duh, Deb! Leave for word count, but this needs fixin’)
“You realize the gravity of what you did to your mother?” he said.
My words came out in an emotional rush, having been bottled up for several hours.
“She gave me no choice, sir,” I said. “Gareth makes me feel special. I like that. {(After Modred, I never wanted another man to touch me.) [Would she say something like this if the guard can hear?]} But Gareth is different. And . . . And . . . Wfft! She doesn’t want me to be happy. She called me a cheap tavern whore. How am I to feel if she deems me so worthless? She doesn’t care. Why should I? But, yes, I understand what I did and I’ll accept the consequences. I always do, do I not? Just do not ask me to apologize or regret it. For I do not.”
The Pendragon sighed heavily. He gestured to the guard who was still standing by the door. The man entered with a jug and two cups. He also had a hearty portion of a bread loaf, which he handed to me on the Pendragon’s word.
“Thank you, sir,” I said, breaking off a chunk of the bread.
The guard set the jug and cups in front of the Pendragon, and then left us alone once more.
The Pendragon filled one of the cups and offered it to me.
“Your mother would have you languish here forever,” he said as he filled his own cup. “She wanted them to throw away the keys.”
I studied the cup, inhaling the rich aroma of the ale. I took a sip to wash down the dry bread.
“That comes as no surprise, sir. Can I expect anything else from the woman who sent me to Morgause? Who sent me to slavery?”
My father took a drink from his cup.
“I know how much suffering you endured, Lin. And I do understand your anger. It is justified. And if she were just your mother, things would be easier at the moment. But an attack on the High Queen, Lin. I can’t ignore that.”
“I know, sir.”
“What happened?”
“You obviously already know.”
“I know your mother’s side. And I have heard Gareth’s version of his part in the events. Now I want to hear yours.”
I swallowed more ale before relating the events of the day. A day that had begun so promising—when I had felt loved and alive.
He nodded occasionally as I spoke.
“The Queen and I exchanged many, many words of anger, sir. She slapped me.”
I paused in the narrative, realizing I had accused the Queen and Lancelot of infidelity and treason against the Pendragon. I decided to leave that portion out of my tale for the moment. “She slapped me. We screamed more angry words. I lost my temper—lost my control. I defended myself as a soldier.”
Against a woman.
He studied me for several moments. Was he waiting for more? Did he already know everything? Would the Queen have admitted that to him? If my father did know, he showed no signs of the enormity of dealing with treason and betrayal from his wife and one of he truest equites.
“I see,” he said at last. He rubbed his brow as though it ached. As surely it must from the mess I had created.
I stared straight ahead. “I’ll face the consequences of my actions, sir. But I hope you will not punish Gareth. He did not force himself on me. I encouraged his kisses and caresses.”
“Do you love him?”
My neck nearly snapped as I twisted my head in my father’s direction.
Love? Could I love a prince of Orkney?
“I . . . He makes my head reel at times. Other times I want to fall into the depths of his green-eyed gaze and never return to the real world. And yet he is of Orkney and that which I hate. And then I want to run from him.”
My father nodded, resting his hand on his knees.
“I need to think on all of this,” he said. He stood.
I shifted so that I could rise as well.
“Stay as you are, Lin,” he said. “There will be a public tribunal in the morning.”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
He left the lantern on its hook, and the remaining ale.
The door closed and the key rattled in the lock once more.
* * * *