Trent, the town elder, met us on the road. The burly man stared up at Sir Gideon. “Milord, down the river—”

“Aye, we’ve seen them.”

Trent’s deep-set eyes widened. “We knew the Saxons were a threat to Britannia, but when did their interest turn upon Brittany?”

“It was only a matter of time.” Gideon glanced up the road. “Why have they barred the castle gates? Did someone already warn Cameliard?”

The burly townsman shook his head. “Milord, the guards closed the gate just after dawn, well before the Saxons began to arrive.” He motioned to a clutch of men standing nearby. “A few of our hunters saw the hordes gathering at the river’s reach not long ago. We’ve had so little time to prepare and now it appears Cameliard has abandoned its people. Why is that, milord?”

I dismounted and stood before the man.

He dropped to his knees before me. “Lady Guinevere, I’d not realized that you were—”

“Please. Stand. I assure you, I will uncover the reasons behind their decision.”

Trent forced his gaze, seemingly ashamed.

I turned to my father’s captain. “Sir Gideon, can you take charge of these people?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Have them gather by the stables. If I fail in convincing the guard to drop the gate then lead them south toward Carnac.” I paused and looked to Trent, for I knew my next words would rend him. “Burn everything behind you. Leave nothing for them to plunder. Drive all the livestock into the hills.”

“But milady, this is our home. Everything we own…”

“My father spoke of a powerful man of the old religion who is said to have the resources to aid any Celt, Breton or Briton alike.”

“Aye, milady.” Trent spoke out. “Caledonensis. They say he has lived for one thousand summers and knows the future of men. They say he is a wizard who turned an entire legion of Romans into stone.”

“I fear I have little belief in wizardry or witchcraft, my dear sir. My belief goes as far as the magic of these trees and the stones of these walls.”

Gideon sighed. “And my girl, my beliefs lie in reality, and that reality is we’ll need supplies.”

My fingers encircled my mother’s jewelled bracelet. I did not wish to part with it, but with a quick breath, I removed it from my wrist and held it out toward Gideon. “Take this. Trade it for what you will. Do everything in your power to keep these people safe. Now make haste.”

Gideon dipped his head in respect. “May the Goddess watch over your travels.”

“And may she watch over yours.” I continued when I noticed him glancing up at the castle gate. “Fear not, I know another way in.”

I hurried to the home of Bel Reniere, a rotund old woman with whom I had been friends for as long as I could remember. I slipped inside. The wintering smells of drying herbs, anise and chamomile, comfrey and goldenseal, and the pungent odour of valerian root bade me welcome. Her cat—part companion, part feral—hunched up, set to growling, and cast an evil stare. I glanced about but no person moved within; still, a peat fire burned in a pit at the far wall.

A hidden door led down into the old Roman tunnels. My father had this access secretly built, at my mother’s request, as an additional way for her and her children to flee an overrun castle. Had she known she would bear but one child.

I jumped down into the tunnel. A woman screamed and I backed a step. My hands went to my vacant scabbards. I retreated and readied my fists.

“Guin!” My nursemaid, Caelia, rushed from the shadows followed by Bel. “What are you doing here? Where is Gideon?”

Bel lowered her makeshift spear.

I stopped Caelia’s affections. “Why has Cameliard closed its gates?”

“Because Lord Rience cares nothing ‘bout any of us.” Bel spoke hoarsely. “Land and property’s all he wants. He’s an ungrateful worm.”

“My father would never allow this.”

Caelia took my hand. “Your uncle claims that the King is dead. He also claims that the assassin hails from the village, and that he will bar the gate until the culprit is turned over.”

Her words should have shattered my heart, but I placed no worth in the statements of my uncle.

“I will believe that as truth when I touch my father’s corpse and not before. Await me here. If I do not make a hasty return, join Sir Gideon at the stable and follow him to Carnac.”

Caelia’s hand stopped my advance. “Take this.” She offered me a gilded dagger.

I left a kiss upon her cheek and hurried down the tunnel. My body burned with the heat of an angry heart. Charred pitch from the unlit torches tainted my every breath. The tunnel’s black gloom failed to slow me. I had travelled its length more times than my father would have tolerated.

I came to the first of three doors—my father’s bedchamber. My hand hesitated upon the latch before easing it free. The room loomed empty, less the furnishings of a king. A wave of relief strengthened my resolve.

Heartened, I moved to the second door. Hearing sounds within, I stayed my hand. My uncle’s voice stood apart from the others. In keeping with his character, he was complaining about my father’s alliance with the new religion.

With haste, I made my way to the last door and entered. The bedchamber, my very own, appeared undisturbed. I crossed the room and slipped behind a tapestry into what my father called the servant’s way. Caelia and I had often mused over the illicit intent of the Roman nobleman who commissioned the castle so very long ago. Soon, only the tapestry at the opposite end of the passage hung between safety and discovery. I edged the fabric aside and brought my eye to the slit.

My father’s council chamber lay empty, while voices argued in one of the rooms beyond.

I dared fate and stepped into the largest of the castle’s halls.

My father’s council table spanned a greater part of the room’s width—a massive round table fashioned by Marcus Cassius, a Roman general, in a time when my father’s own grandfather was naught but an infant.

A single torch set the room alight. During times of council, every sconce along the wall bore a torch, twenty-four in all, and the radiance would banish even the slightest of shadows.

I lingered beside my father’s chair. As a child, I had listened to his tales of a man who lived over four hundred summers before, a man named Joseph of Arimathea, and of the man called Jesus. Whilst my father’s voice had entranced me, and left me quite taken with his dramatics, his stories failed to win over my faith.

My uncle’s rants approached the main door. “You’re quite mistaken!”

Other voices joined his, so I fled back into the servant’s way and prayed these men not tarry long.

“Brother or not, since when do you speak to me so?” My father’s voice filled my heart and I nearly sprang into the room. “Rience, my guard informs me that the castle gates are closed and enemies of Cameliard approach by way of the river. Who gave this order in my stead?”

“My king…” Rience bowed his head. “Soldiers of Lyonesse march beside the Saxon invaders. They believe that the purveyors of this new religion, the very men to whom you’ve granted sanctuary, will bring only ruin. We should turn these prophets over to them. This will cause them to abandon their aid to the Saxons, thus eliminating their threat…milord.”

“Never!” My father’s footfalls clicked just outside of the tapestry and I heard him take his seat at the table. “Sir Lionel…” The creaking of leather and the clang of armour announced the guard’s approach.

“Yes, my king?”

“Send one of your men to the battlements. Open the gates and grant sanctuary to the people before these Saxons march. Tell my men that we will not hide as children while these worms rape and pillage our lands. Man the walls then have my squire ready my armour and mount.”

Before Lionel acted upon his task, my uncle stepped up. “Remain where you are.”

My father’s face grew taut. “Lionel, is my guard assembled as I requested?”

“Yes, my king.”

“Summon them into the hall, immediately.”

Lionel went to the chamber’s door and opened it. “Sir Rictor, the king summons you and your men to his side.”

Several of my father’s personal guard moved into the room.

Rience raised his hand and they stopped. “Now show my brother who’s really in control of this castle. Leave us.”

Each of the men looked to my father before turning their eyes away. Slowly they each backed out of the room. Sir Lionel’s hand went to the hilt of his sword. He moved to shield my father.

“Rience! Have you gone mad?”

I broke through the tapestry and faced my father. “Yes, he has, father.”

Rience’s eyes grew wide, as if he had confronted a ghoul of the night.

My father’s annoyance lashed me. “Child, what are you doing here? Leave this chamber at once. This conversation concerns only men, and is not open for your comment. Now go, quickly.”

“Father, ask him why he has already proclaimed you dead to your people, and why he claims one of them to be the assassin.”

“What say you, Rience? Did you act as she suggests?”

Rience narrowed his stare.

I glanced about the room; two others graced the chamber. One, my uncle’s own seneschal, who stood to the vile man’s right. The other, an old man, huddled beside the door, bent and trembling with age, draped in the emerald green robes of a druid. His cold eyes peered out from the shadows of his deep hood, whilst he supported his unstable body upon a thin walking stick. He watched the room with slight turns of his head.

Sir Lionel stepped between my uncle and my father. “Milord, answer your king or as his guard I will compel you to speak.”

Rience moved before Lionel. “Mind your tone with me, good knight, or the ravens may very well be dining upon your corpse before the setting of the sun.”

A grin spread over Lionel’s face and he glanced back for my father’s assent. My father shook his head and Lionel’s grin faded. Then seemingly for no reason, Lionel’s eyes narrowed then rolled; his lips pursed and wrinkled. The seneschal had backstabbed him in the thin void between the chainmail and straps.

Sir Lionel stumbled away and drew his sword. He tried to speak but his wound robbed him the ability.

My father pulled me to his side.

Lionel regained his stance. The seneschal recoiled in terror mumbling his disbelief that the knight still stood. With a swift slash, Lionel cut down the seneschal before the bony man could react. He moved toward my uncle and balanced the tip of his sword a hand’s length from Rience’s throat.

The man who had slain my mare charged into the room from behind me. I guessed he came through the same hidden passage from which I had entered. He lifted his arms. The thwap of the crossbow was unmistakable.

Lionel fell to the stone an arm’s reach from me. Blood pooled about his face.

I tried to move but fear held me frozen. In my short life, I had never been witness to murderous death and now this day had introduced me to that stark dreadfulness more than once.

My father stiffened. “Rience, what have you done?”

“This man who hides like a coward behind other men claims to be a king?” The words of the Salian offended my ears with their harsh attempt at my language.

“That man you killed was more than just a guard—he was my friend. And had not the safety of my daughter prevented me, you would be feeling the iron of my blade in your belly at this moment.” My father looked to the Salian. “I have never wronged your people. Why do you now act as my enemy?”

“Father, this man killed Fleur.”

My father lowered his lips to my ear. “Please, daughter, for once, hold your tongue.”

The druid stepped into the torchlight with his attention focused on my uncle.

My father took hold of the druid’s sleeve. “Are you going to stand by and do nothing? Have you become party to this treachery?” The man moaned with the pains of his age and turned away. “I take your reluctance to speak, as any man of honour would, to be your confession. To my broken heart, I trusted your council. You swore that this entire matter would not get this far. I was wrong to believe in your words.”

My uncle shoved the druid aside, and moved before my father. “I hope this has enlightened you in whom you should’ve placed your trust. Sheath your sword or you shall watch her die.” My uncle pointed his sword at me.

I attempted to knock away the tip of his steady blade several times before ceasing my effort. Blood dripped from my fingers, whilst I drew a deep breath in frustration.

My father gave in to my uncle’s demand, and in kind, my uncle sheathed his weapon.

Rience reached out and thumbed the fabric of my father’s collar. He directed his question, however, to the Salian. “You ordered the death of Melyodas’ son?”

“Yes. But my man was killed. Men of Lyonesse took the boy away. I don’t know if the boy still lives or not.”

The back of my uncle’s hand stroked my father’s cheek. “No matter. Either way, Melyodas will believe his Salian assassins have betrayed him.” In near perversion, his hand caressed as a lover’s upon my father’s jaw. “This will solidify the alliance between Lyonesse and the Saxons. As tribute, I will offer the lives of these Christian priests that clutter my hall. Melyodas will, of course, join me, since the one thing he truly wants is your head in a box.”

My father’s ire mounted, and I wondered how much longer he would take my uncle’s contempt. He pulled himself away from Rience’s touch. “You’ve indeed gone quite mad. Lyonesse would never fight beside the Saxons.”

“Yes, perhaps I am mad. Mad for having spent too many winters hiding in your shadow. Melyodas will join forces with them, for it was the Saxons who warned him about a plot to murder his wife and the entire order of druids in Lyonesse—assassins who wore your crest, and who were commanded by your sealed order.”

“I have never given such orders.”

“According to the men of Lyonesse you did. Documents bearing your seal were taken from the assassins by Melyodas himself—taken before he cleaved one of their heads with his own sword.”

My father brought his hand up. His ring, his seal, encircled his finger still.

My uncle clasped my king’s hand. “You sleep much too soundly, my brother.” He glanced back at the Salian. “And why is this girl here in my presence?”

My breath faltered and pain seized my heart upon seeing defeat etch my father’s features.

The Salian pointed down upon Lionel’s body. “A knight like him saved her. My men are still out there searching. I know not how she got past me.”

“A knight? What mark did he carry here?” Rience pointed to his left breast.

“Red lion.”

My father’s cheeks rose and he nodded to himself.

My uncle spun toward the Salian. “Gideon! I should have had him killed the day he threatened me to spare the life of his brother Rolland.”

My words shot toward him along with the spittle of my anger. “You have a better chance at growing fairy wings than defeating Gideon.”

The Salian chuckled and took a seat at my father’s table.

My father’s body grew rigid. “Only those worthy sit at my table—” My father’s words faltered as my uncle’s short sword rose to his throat.

Recognition softened my father’s eyes when they captured my own. His lip began to quiver and gallantry squared up his sagging frame. With naught but his eyes, he conveyed upon me two messages—the extent of his love and his displeasure that I had come back to the castle. I hoped he read my gaze as well, as my fondness and my respect for him had never been stronger.

My uncle cocked his head in consideration. “The death of your daughter will rally all the surrounding kingdoms. Why, even your best knight witnessed a Salian attempting to kill her. Imagine the vengeance Gideon will feel when he learns of her assassination.”

“And how will you explain blood being spilled in my council chamber? Am I to be found slain in the most secure room of my own castle without suspicion falling upon you?”

Rience spoke in a foreign tongue. A second Salian stepped out of the servant’s way dragging a villager. Passages I believed secret had not been so. The man’s face bore the wounds of a heavy beating. Arms bound behind him, he struggled to stand. He looked directly at me and in Latin, told me that Jesu would avenge him and he asked that his corpse be buried in holy soil. The Salian pierced the man’s heart and then cut the bonds from his wrists.

“You forget that I also know the secrets of this castle. Your knights will discover the tunnel and any question to how the assassin gained entrance will be eliminated.” My uncle took notice of my father’s confusion and issued a command in another language.

The Salian stood up from my father’s table and removed his helm. The wild mane and thick face of a Saxon appeared from beneath. More of my uncle’s treachery.

“Curious how a few sets of armour will have fooled so many.” Rience pressed the tip of his blade against my father’s throat. “I will gain favour with the kings of Brittany and push East against the Salians, who will be taken completely off guard. Lyonesse and their new Saxon ally will invade Britannia and push down from the North. Once we gain hold, we will turn our eyes upon Rome itself and the annihilation of their wretched faith. Only one thing stands in our way…”

My father’s eyes searched me out and the embrace of his gaze comforted me. He nodded once, then backed and drew his sword. He roared as if he were commanding his knights on the battlefield. “Jesu, protect my daughter. Run girl. Run…”

Rience’s blade thrust forward, a glancing blow to my father’s face.

The Saxon’s lunge found only air when I leapt up onto the table. I hesitated beside my father, but he shoved me onward. I left my dagger buried in the Saxon’s side as I passed.

I heard my father’s final gasp escape his lips just as I turned into the hallway. My heart hardened and I refused to look back. I ran headlong into the arms of the old druid, who, disoriented, cast me away in surprise instead of holding me. His mistake allowed my escape, though footfalls followed close behind.

Desperation encased my uncle’s commands. Whilst I lived, I possessed the power to reveal his betrayal, to unravel every devious action.

I knew this castle better than most and I had soon lost them in the chase, but my good fortune could not last for long.

I sought refuge within Caelia’s bedchamber and bolted the door behind me. The room held a familiar odour, one of beeswax and lavender. I felt a stinging at my back. My fingers touched upon a dart just below my waist. Blood wetted my tunic. I realized with confidence that poison coursed through my body by the manner to which the room rocked beneath my feet. Uncertain to whether my pursuers saw my entry, I unbolted the door, swung it wide and loud, and then with haste dove inside the servant’s way. There, I huddled just beyond the tapestry. My thoughts wandered but I forced myself to hold my wits.

Searchers entered the bedchamber putting my plan to the test. They rummaged about with urgency and seemingly decided the open door suggested my flight toward the gate tower. I made my way through the unlit stone maze, through cobwebs and dust, as narrow as my shoulders at several places, finally arriving at my father’s bedchamber. I fell upon his floor. The very stone emitted his scent and I could no longer prevent my tears. Tired. So very tired…

gh

Voices above me pleaded:

“My lady, can you hear me?”

“Bel, take her feet.”

“Remove the dart before we move her.”

“It’s barbed.”

“Tear it free and be quick. Much of its poison has already set upon her. Let the wound bleed free.”

I wailed out but no sounds made their way past the hand over my mouth.

“Will she live?”

“By the taste of her blood, the poison’s aconitum. To my home … be quick.”

A dark solitude overtook me.

gh

I opened my eyes to the sound of steel upon steel. Women cried out. Heavy footfalls shook the ground. Caelia cradled me. I glanced about. The village burned around us; flames spat thick black smoke into the snowy skies.

I managed but a few words. “How? Bel? Gideon?”

“The Saxons learned of Bel and came for you there. She died that you might live. As for Gideon, I have no information. Most of the people fled before the Saxons came. My Queen…” Caelia took my hand and placed a kiss upon my palm. “…you told us of your uncle’s deeds. May justice pursue that man.” She brushed the hair from my face. “Do you feel as if you can make your way down to the shore?”

She expected me to leave my people and I argued why I could not. I needed to follow them to Carnac. Nevertheless, Caelia’s conviction won me over. Together we slid from the security of the thatch and took to the steep footpath leading beside the castle wall. The trail led us down a treacherous path toward the ocean’s swell. I lamented for my land, for my father, for my way of life.

Nothing would ever be the same.

Caelia halted and removed Vesper, my necklace, from about my neck even under my protest. She crouched beside a burnt corpse, one of the many I had forced myself not to look upon, and fastened the necklace around the girl’s neck. She drew her thumb over the blue stone, tainting it with soot. She took my hand and led me away but my mind refused to release the image of that poor girl. I felt responsible for having cared for my people in a manner that had not protected them all.

Caelia stopped and called out in her loudest whisper. “Derdrom? Are you here?”

“Yes, mum.” A man seemingly appeared from out of the very stone. “I’ve got a boat waiting to take you and the queen across to Cornwall.” The lanky, unkempt man knelt before me and reached for my hand. His words quavered and he reeked of rotted fish. “I pray for the day of your return, I do. And on that day, Cameliard will smile again. Till then, I plan to stay on the water, I most certainly do.”

I glanced out upon the crashing surf. Brittany had always been my home, but for now, though less cultured, less tamed, the land of Britannia across the sea would need to take its place for a time.