Mistress of Legend

Chapter 10-5

I stepped to the side so I could see around him. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, my lord. I too look forward to getting to know you. I have just called for the midday meal. Would you care to join us?”

By the time the roasted chicken was but a pile of bones, Rohan had charmed us all with his quick wit and even sharper tongue. He was a pleasure to listen to, partly because of his intelligence, but also because his voice was attractive—smoky and rich, yet smooth as ice. It put me in mind of the spirit they drank in these lands, the one with the spicy tail that had gotten Arthur so spectacularly drunk on our wedding night.

Rohan insisted on giving us a tour of our new home, taking special pride in the size of the town—which, unlike Camelot, was not clustered around the castle but spread out for miles in every direction—the fact that the blacksmith produced the strongest swords in the area, and that the farrier could shoe a horse with a new set in under an hour, something he assured me would prove useful when the next attack came. He was certain it was only a matter of time.

When we reached the tiltyard, talk naturally turned to Lancelot’s many victories in the ring, including the one over Aggrivane that had brought him to Arthur’s attention when we were all much younger.

“I was there that day,” Rohan recalled, a boyish look of wonder spreading across his face. “I was not yet a man, but I’d earned myself a place at court, one I sadly had to give up after a year when my father was wounded defending Alt Clut from the Picts.” His gaze became distant as his mind traveled back in time. “You were spectacular. I have always envied your ability to disarm and subdue a man without harming him. I tend to favor a more… direct approach. I wonder if you could help me refine my technique.”

“Certainly. I believe mastery of the sword begins with mastery of the mind. Any brute can hack and swing and stab and kill, but a man who can link his brain and his blade has a better chance of escaping a duel unharmed.”

Rohan gave me an impish look. “I wonder how Guinevere would have fared against you. I hear my lady is quite the swordswoman. Have the two of you ever sparred?”

“We have, many times.” Lancelot put an arm around me. “I daresay she taught me as much I have taught her.”

“I had the advantage of my mother’s training,” I demurred, knowing that would win me points in her homeland.

“Indeed, she was legendary.” Rohan looked away, pressing his hands to his lips as though praying in the Christian manner. “I wonder… would it be impertinent of me to ask you for a demonstration?”

“You want me to duel with you?” That was not a question I ever expected to hear, much less from someone I hardly knew. Was it meant as a compliment, or was he testing me to find out if the rumors were true? Either way, it was yet another large presumption from a stranger. “Or am I to perform like a tamed wolf?”

A predatory grin spread across his features. He bared his right forearm, showing off his mark. “They are my clan’s animal, so if anyone should be able to tame a she-wolf, it is I.”

Lancelot jumped in, pushing Rohan back with a light touch to the chest. “Mind your tongue, else you do battle with me.”

I pressed my lips together to hide the smile that threatened to betray me. Two powerful, handsome men fighting over me was quite a compliment for an aging queen. “Gentlemen, please. There is no need for a real duel today. Lord Rohan, yes, I will spar with you, but only briefly as I am well out of practice and have no desire to make a spectacle of myself so early in my time here.”

Once in the ring, Anna picked out two blunted practice swords for us and we faced off across the dusty field.

“No blood. First contact is the winner,” I stated.

He nodded. “Lay on.”

We didn’t circle one another for long. Though he was nearly three hands taller than me, it took only a moment of footwork before I spotted his weakness. He relied on the length of his arm to protect him, so in order to defeat him, I needed to bind up his sword. Instead of advancing on him, I drew him toward me with a series of fake attacks that enabled me to push his sword aside and get past the range of his blade. He, meanwhile, tried to push me back. Finally, I was able to strike his wrist, ending the fight.

He shook out his arm. “I find myself regretting agreeing to allow you to live here but not rule. You would be a boon to our army, even in training if you no longer wish to fight.”

I opened my mouth to retort that it was rude to allude to a lady’s age, but then I froze. Something in the way he turned his head, the glint of the sunlight off his reddish-blond hair, forced a memory from the depths of my mind. My blood went cold. This was the man in my vision, the one who would betray us all to Elga.

He bent over, palms on his knees, catching his breath, oblivious to my dark thoughts.

I shouldn’t let on that I knew, should I? Or would it be best to confront him, try to stop this disaster before it went any further? He was already in league with Elga, so I had to be careful. It could all go south too quickly if he knew what I suspected. Isolde always told me knowledge was power, so for now, I would do nothing but smile and pretend nothing had changed. As far as he was concerned, nothing had. But as soon as he went back to the fortress, I had to investigate him. Luckily, I knew just the person for the job.