A Knight in King Arthur's Court Ch. 10
Keywords: Court, King, 10, Arthur's, Knight, A, in, Ch.,
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*Chapter Ten: A Bad Seed*
It didn't suit her half so well as it suited Merlin. That was Nimue's first thought, when she inspected herself in the mirror. It probably didn't help matters that her wizard's regalia, made to look exactly like his, was gray instead of black. It was a pale dove gray, the tunic soft and supple doeskin, the shirt fine cambric, but all of that couldn't change the fact that it was still gray. Nimue had insisted on boots and breeches rather than skirt and slippers—much to Guinevere's dismay—and she was beginning to think that that wasn't helping matters any. It was hard, she decided, to be a knight and a woman at the same time.
In an attempt to salvage herself, Nimue had left her hair mostly down; all but two long braids at either temple, that had been woven with ribbon that matched her clothing. Etherea hung at her hip, on a creation of braided silver wire and glimmering star sapphires that, as ceremonial garb, should have been gaudy. Should have been, but the blacksmith's daughter had a hand for such things as jewelry. She was, Nimue had found out, the female courtiers' best kept secret.
"Going to preen all day?"
Annoyed, she spun to face her master. It was no surprise to her that he looked fantastic in his regalia. Nimue planted her hands on her hips and gave him her best glare, but that just made Merlin laugh.
"I'm not preening!" Nimue snapped. "And you're in an awfully good mood, considering we're dealing with some crazy, barbarian-loving border lord."
"Actually, we're dealing with some crazy, barbarian-loving border lord's son," Merlin corrected. "And we're going to be late."
We're always late, Nimue thought, as she followed him out of the tower rooms. And usually it's your fault, not mine. She was not at all in a good mood, and it had little to do with the circumstances today. Merlin, for all his good humor, was avoiding her. Sort of. As her mentor, he had to teach her, lest her gift grow out of control. But emotionally, he was definitely avoiding her. Guin kept trying to get her to talk about it, but Nimue didn't think it was anyone else's business but her own. Aside from which, while it was bothering her incessantly, there were still more important things going on in the kingdom at the moment.
"Why send his son?" Nimue asked, as she and Merlin made their way down the castle corridor. "I thought the problem is the lord himself."
"It is," Merlin assured her. "However, by sending his son, he's able to do two things. The first is insure that he himself is not close enough to be taken into custody without the chance to escape." Merlin let out an aggrieved sigh, as though he'd seen this tactic one too many times. "The second reason is, and this is more theory on my part, that it is Kestin himself who has contacts on the moors. Only he is allowed to contact them. He wants to be at home, in case any of this should fall through."
"Clever, for a border lord," Nimue commented. "But assuming he does allow the barbarians through his lands, we'll know it's him anyway."
Merlin shook his head. "It doesn't matter," he said. "Unless we have some kind of tangible evidence—letters, perhaps—there's little that can be done. We can't execute the man on gut instinct alone."
This was the argument that had been making its way through Camelot for the past couple of weeks. There were many among the courtiers, knights, and even commoners, who didn't understand why Arthur felt the need to implement such policies. Even Nimue didn't quite understand this drive of his. She admired it, but she didn't understand it. It was wonderful that he, unlike other rulers in the world, did not make himself above the law. Yet it seemed to her to be a notion that was ill-suited to the times. Not everyone could be coaxed with honey; some needed the sting of vinegar or they lived out of control.
"It's been my opinion, for the past several years, that we should just run the man out of Camelot," Merlin told her. "Out of the country, to be honest. Or perhaps he should go live on the moors himself."
"That wouldn't be a very chivalrous solution," Nimue said, glancing up at him. She quelled a mischievous smile.
Merlin looked down at her, his eyebrows raising. She could just imagine what was going through his head at the moment. Nimue put on her most innocent face, widening her eyes as if she didn't have a clue what that look was all about. Only at these times, when she was teasing him, did he ever seem to relax a bit. At least, these days, anyway.
"You have been spending way too much time with Arthur," Merlin said at last. "I know it's not a charitable thought, but…ah, I suppose I'm just at the end of my patience. The man has been a thorn in Arthur's side for years…"
Merlin trailed off as the two of them reached the gate into the courtyard. Even though this was supposed to be an informal greeting, each and every one of the Knights of the Round Table had turned out, in full ceremonial battle dress. Arthur had as well, and he wore a simple but elegant gold circlet that gave him a far more commanding presence than any gaudy crown could. It does help that he has Excalibur at his hip, Nimue thought, as she and Merlin took their positions near the king; he a step to the left and behind, and she to the left and behind him.
A small column of horses and riders made their way beneath the portcullis. She knew that Kestin was a fairly rich man, but those horses, all of them uniform chestnuts with white blazes down their faces, confirmed it; those were expensive beasts. The dark green tabards the riders wore looked like expensive cambric. Behind them came a carriage, pulled along by a team of two, these a gray so light as to look white, as perfectly matched as the chestnuts. Nimue would have to get used to such displays of power and money, she decided, since this was going to be a part of her life from now on. It was a bit disgusting, though, she thought.
The first two riders in the column—one a standard-bearer—broke apart from the rest and trotted forward. Nimue realized that this man who came forward must have been Lord Kestin's son. There was no doubt he was a lord; he held himself in that same arrogant way she'd seen in many others. Up close, she could see he was rather good looking. There were more than a few court ladies who'd be going on about those blue eyes and that blonde hair before the night was up.
Kestin's son dismounted and went to one knee in front of Arthur. "Greetings, my liege," he said, bowing his head. "And greetings from my father, as well."
"Rise," Arthur said, with a soft chuckle. "I've known you since you were a toddler, Debraun. There's no need for such formality."
He really is far too forgiving, Nimue thought, watching as Debraun rose and Arthur embraced him. The king liked to believe the best of people. Perhaps he was hoping the son wasn't as bad as the father, and that he could win Debraun over. The young man greeted the Knights, and Merlin, after Arthur released him. Standing where she was, she didn't fall under his gaze so easily. When he finally caught sight of Nimue, from the corner of his eye, he turned his head to stare at her. She was getting fairly used to being stared at, but there was something in his eyes that she didn't like.
"You must be the young lady we've heard so much about," Debraun said, at last. "Your name has traveled all the way to the border, my lady."
Aren't I blessed? Nimue thought wryly. "You have me at an unfair advantage, my lord," she said aloud. "You've heard of me, but I'm afraid I'm not so familiar with you."
He smiled at her again, and she felt a shiver go down her spine. That smile didn't reach his eyes. Debraun took a step back, then another, and bowed slightly. Then he half-turned, flinging his arm out with a flourish, in the direction of the carriage. The servant driving the carriage scrambled down from the seat and grabbed the carriage door, wrenching it open. He looks terrified, Nimue thought, frowning. And very young…thirteen, perhaps fourteen…
The woman that stepped out of the carriage looked to be about Nimue's age, but their similarities ended there. The lady had blonde hair that was perfectly plaited beneath a jewel-decorated netting. Her skin was pale as milk, highlighted by the light splash of cosmetics over her cheeks and lips. The gown she wore was a simple, elegant creation of pink silk, the bodice silver brocade. She was a lovely, petite creature, with that curvy, somewhat plump figure so popular at court these days, and eyes even bluer than her brothers. Lord above, Nimue thought, rolling her eyes as every one of the Knights snapped to attention. You'd think they've never seen a pretty woman before!
"May I present my sister, the lady Ansella," Debraun said, with that same cold smile.
Ansella lifted her gown with one of those dainty hands, and held out the other to the poor, frightened servant. I feel like a bedraggled street rat, Nimue thought, watching as Ansella stepped down from the carriage and made her way across the courtyard. Even Merlin's eyes were riveted on the lady. She curtsied before Arthur, then rose to kiss him on the cheek.
"My, how you've grown," Arthur chuckled. "Last time I saw you, you could barely reach my knee."
"Last time I saw you, you were a giant," Ansella teased, in a voice as lovely as her face. "You're not nearly so scary, this time."
"Scary?" Arthur frowned, feigning dismay. "I? Now that is upsetting…"
She let out a musical trill of laughter that made Nimue want to scream. It was at that moment she realized that her new position still meant very little, as she was shuffled to the back of the crowd that began filing into the castle. Arthur and Guinevere led, followed by Ansella and Debraun, then Merlin, and it was Nimue who should follow him, but she found herself elbowed out of the way by her fellow knights. Chivalrous my ass, she thought, scowling at their backs. A pretty face and some fluttering eyelashes, and their supposed chivalry is nonexistent.
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Keywords: Court, King, 10, Arthur's, Knight, A, in, Ch.,