Mistress of Legend

Chapter 11-1

Chapter Eleven

The following morning, I woke to find word had spread not only of my presence, but also of my encounter with Rohan. A line of men, women, boys, and girls waited patiently for me in the courtyard, as though I was still queen and it was pleading day.

The low hum of their conversation reached me through the walls and windows as I went about my morning ablutions. Though they waited with uncommon patience and civility, my palms grew damp and my hands shook as I fumbled with the buttons of my gown.

“What do they want?” I asked Galen when he seated me at breakfast. I eyed the offerings warily, my queasy stomach urging me to choose something bland.

“Why, to see you, of course,” he answered with a knowing smile.

I rolled my eyes at him, tearing off a hunk of bread and passing the remainder to him.

“Clearly. But why?” I popped a piece into my mouth, savoring the still-warm sweetness of its honey glaze.

“You’ll have to ask them. But if you want my best guess”—he swallowed a mouthful of spicy ale—“they want to see if it is true that Corinna of the Votadini has returned from the dead.”

I stopped chewing. “Tell me you jest.”

He grinned around a hunk of half-chewed bread. “’Tis the story I heard on my way to the kitchens.”

My shoulders sagged and I muttered to myself, “How do these tales get started? Now I must contend with my mother’s shade as well.” Louder, I said to Galen, “I suppose they will all be disappointed to find me of flesh and blood without a trace of Otherworldly essence.”

“You have more than a trace, lass, as you proved to Evina,” he said, referring to the prophecy about Rohan, which I’d told him about the night before. “I reckon she’ll nae like the attention you’re attracting.”

“Best to disperse them quickly then.” I rose, smoothing my skirt. “Are you going to open the door for me, or must I dismiss you for incompetence, slave?”

Galen chuckled at my lighthearted reminder of his position and rose to do my bidding. “Are you certain you wish to meet them out in the courtyard?”

“Of course. That way everyone can see I have not called them here in rebellion and have nothing to hide. I’m sure there are at least one or two of her spies among them.”

The chatter ceased as the door opened. Every eye turned to me. I smiled self-consciously, at a loss for where to begin, how to address these curious onlookers who were within my new realm but not my subjects. I was saved by a rugged man with dark hair and dark eyes, who detached himself from the crowd and approached me. His face was familiar, yet I could not call up his name or how I knew him.

“Lady Guinevere.” He inclined his head to me. “I am Nachton the Huntsman. You may remember me from my visits to your husband’s court.”

I took his hands and squeezed them fondly. “Of course I do. You were close friends with Lord Tristan. I still maintain we would not have survived Caledon Wood without the two of you.”

Nachton’s cheeks reddened. “It was my honor to serve you and the Lord of Lothian. Now it is also my honor to welcome you to Stirling. We”—he swept his arm wide, taking in the whole of the crowd—“mean you no disrespect by gathering here and will leave if you wish.”

I took in the assembly, counting no more than two dozen souls—far too few to be suspected of a riot. “No, please stay. I know no one in these parts, save for those who traveled with me and my new steward. If I am to live here, I would like to get to know my neighbors.”

For the next several hours, as the sun rose higher, I talked with them about all manner of things. Many inquired about my scars and asked if Arthur’s death had been confirmed. Still more—some of them relatives both distant and near in relation—wished to hear of my mother and father and why I had returned.

A few of the young women asked me to use my sight to tell them the name of their one true love, which my gifts did not allow, but I was able to confirm to one that her love was planning to ask for her hand, while I assured another that her beloved sought to make his true feelings known.

A gaggle of young men had heard of my tussle with Rohan and wished me to show them the sequence that had brought him down.

“No one has ever seen his face in the mud before,” one noted.

“We want to learn how to make it happen again,” another said with vehemence unusual for one of his age. What had Rohan done to carve such a groove in a young heart?

I eyed them, taking in skinny limbs and fledgling muscles attempting to make the transition from boy to man. They were clearly used to hard labor and exercise, but it was unwise to instruct them in such an advanced maneuver when I hadn’t assessed their skill level. Best to begin by demonstrating the two moves that were the basis of the complex string of footwork and blade skills.

“It is easier if I show you first. Then I will explain it as we go.” Picking up two fallen sticks, I handed one to the most inquisitive of the boys. I motioned him toward me. “Come at me with great force.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he lunged. I sidestepped his branch, pivoting on the balls of my feet and bringing my own fake weapon under his with a crack. To his credit, the boy kept his hold, spinning away from my grip then pushing me back, forcing me into defense position.

“Very good, Cinon,” a husky female voice called from over his left shoulder.

I looked up, surprised to see a tall blond woman approaching.

“Well met, Master Kiara,” my opponent greeted her with interlaced fingers touched to his bowed forehead in a gesture of deep respect.

One by one, the boys fell into a straight line. Each made the same gesture.

“Master Kiara?” I asked when she reached me.

“I am one of the weapons masters for the Votad and Votadess, recently appointed to Stirling to help Rohan with the new students.”

I took her measure, from the soles of her thick hide boots to the deep brown braccae tucked in at the knee, and her gray tunic hung loose and unbelted, as though in readiness for movement. She exuded confidence but not a single trace of malice. “I am sorry if my instruction gave you offense.”

She waved away my concern. “On the contrary, I was hoping to see you in action. Please, continue.”

Now that I had an audience, especially one who would note every misstep in my teaching, I second-guessed everything I had known for years. My plan for instructing the boys completely fled my mind. “Let’s do it again.”

As we moved through the familiar—at least to me—motions, I relaxed, losing my concern over Kiara. Who was she to me? My mother had taught me, and there was no way she would have let me persist if my technique was weak.

When we reached the end of the first movement, I showed them the second and then demonstrated the connecting footwork, which I in no way expected them to learn yet. “Now split off into pairs and practice what I have shown you. Your master and I will be here if you have questions.”

The boys did as instructed, the sharp cracks of their practice blows punctuating my conversation with Kiara. I twisted to one side then the other, seeking to relieve aching muscles as I watched her. I wasn’t as young as I used to be, so fighting was no longer as easy as breathing.

“I must admit that when I first heard Corinna’s daughter was in Votadini lands, I did not believe it,” she said. “But even if you did not so strongly resemble your mother, your skill proves it, just as Evina says.”

Kiara’s implied knowledge of my mother was suspicious. She was likely half my age, so she couldn’t have known her. “Did you know my mother?”

Kiara shook her head. “I am Selgovae by birth, Votadini only through marriage. But my family knew yours. In fact, we are pledged to your service for the next three generations.” She paused, observing the boys’ progress. “Kian, you’re dropping your right shoulder. Hold it steady and you’ll be less vulnerable.” Turning back to me, she resumed her line of thought. “But that is not why I came to see you.”

“No?”

“No. I wanted to see your skills for myself. I could use some help training our wee ones.” She held up a finger, staving off my objection. “Before you plead old age, know you don’t fool me. Anyone who can execute a dancing dragon with no preparation is more than capable of taking anything these lads and lasses can toss at you. Besides, I only ask you to help the youngest, those still learning to hold their weapons.”

I stared past her at the walls of the fortress, where the guards were changing position, some slinking off to sleep or drown their sorrows in drink, while others steeled themselves for a long afternoon of attentiveness. In my mind’s eye, I saw myself with the Votadini and Damnonii children, helping them learn to balance their blunted blades and heft spears. That was one of many things I missed about not raising children of my own. In Camelot, we’d had others to see to the boys’ training. At least here I could do it myself and—as Kiara implied—I would be teaching girls as well as boys, so I could pass on my mother’s knowledge, even it was to those not of my own blood.

I swallowed a lump in my throat and blinked back unbidden tears. “I accept.”

Kiara grinned. “Tonight I will tell Rohan of our agreement. If he does not object—and he won’t, I will be sure—you can meet the rest of the youngin’s on the morn.”

We sat in companionable silence for a while, every so often shouting correction or praise as the boys went over and over their drills. By the end of the hour, Cinon had picked up the whole sequence, including the footwork, and was correcting the technique of the others.

“He is remarkable,” I said.

“Cinon? He is. His father was one of our greatest warriors. I only wish he could have seen his son complete his testing. Would you like to bear witness? It is your right twice over as one of royal blood and a warrior yourself.”

My shoulders relaxed and my heart lightened at the prospect. My palm already itched to hold a sword again. This was what I had been trained to do, not sit on a throne. Plus, Kiara’s offer would give me the chance to see the trial of a Votadini warrior first-hand. My mother had hinted at the arduous test over the years, but because I was never able witness it or complete my own, it captivated me even now. “I would. Thank you.”

“It will take place at the next full moon.”

A few weeks later, in pale hours of a crisp, cool morning, I mounted my horse and took off in the direction of the closest village, Galen at my side. The people who had gathered at the castle had helped me to understand that in spite of Rohan being their ruler, most citizens were in need of someone to be attentive to their needs. That was not to say Rohan was a bad king; he collected taxes, judged disputes, and protected the surrounding countryside with his army, but he didn’t seem to understand that was only part of the duties of a ruler. From what they’d told me, despite his charm, he had none of the interpersonal skills that would appeal to the people.

When I suggested to Galen that perhaps this was because Rohan didn’t have a wife to tend to them, he burst out laughing. “You have the measure of him already, I see. Watch your back, else he aim to put you in that position.” I opened my mouth to protest, but Galen voiced my thoughts first. “Don’t go thinking Lancelot is any bit a deterrent to him. I ken he fancies wooing you away from Lancelot as a challenge.”

What good would it do Rohan to try to charm me? He was already ruler of the area and had previously lived on my lands. Unless that was it. Perhaps he wanted to formally return my lands into his control through me. But no, that didn’t seem likely enough, even if he was genuinely attracted to me, especially with the prospect of having to best Lancelot for my affections. There had to be a greater plan at play that I wasn’t seeing.