Chapter 30
Thirty
Gray light filtered through the window. Instinctively I reached behind me, to where Galehaut would be lying. Then I blinked awake, remembering.
Wrapped in an animal skin, I opened the frost-clung shutter.
I wanted to see what snowfall looked like when it stuck and gathered.
The pine trees grew so close to the house that I could reach out and touch them.
Their branches were covered with a thick layer of glistening white.
The air smelled different, somehow sharper.
Above the trees, far in the distance, I could see the palest outline of a city and a castle. Camelot. The sight of it made me lonely somehow. I shivered into my animal skin.
Owl’s Guard echoed with all sorts of sounds—drips and creaks and hoots and scurries. In the middle of the night a cat had jumped across my blanket and tickled my eyelids with its whiskers. What was I doing here? We both had the same question.
Merlin offered me bread, meat and cider.
I still had no appetite, but I forced myself to eat.
The bread was cold and a bit hard, so I dunked it in the cider to soften it.
Blaise was in the same corner, scrawling away with quill and ink.
I wondered if he had been there all night.
We bid him goodbye and returned to the road.
Broceliande by day had an otherworldly quality, a palpable solitude that mirrored my inner state. The trees grew tightly together, sometimes arching over the road like a cupola. Merlin did not force conversation and I was thankful for the silence.
The snowy forest had a somnolent effect and I shrunk into my buckskin cloak and let my mind drift. Had Galehaut seen snow? I had never asked him, and now I would never know. But I could imagine his reaction—stunned laugh, eyes to the sky.
It’s magic.
The words tickled, as if he’d spoken them into my ears.
I need you more than anything, I thought. Come back to me. Please come back to me. Please, I will do anything. I will make any sacrifice, risk any danger, broker any deal. I will give years off my life, cede all my skills, forgo knighthood, turn my back on everyone and everything.
I am right here.
You are gone because of me. I wish I could see you. I wish you could hold me. I can’t do this without you.
You can and you will.
You died because I went against the prophecy.
It is not your fault.
Your life was just about to begin.
I would give anything to be with you now, to have more time. Even a day.
I never deserved you.
Even an hour.
I tempted fate.
Even a second.
I can’t go on without you.
You can keep talking to me.
I miss you too much.
I missed you even when we were together. I missed you before I knew you. I always will.
We were rounding a curve in the road and the horses slowed. A castle stood to the left of us, its gray stone melding with the snow.
“Castle Landuc,” Merlin said. “One of King Arthur’s knights lives here.”
The castle was little more than a keep between two towers.
Its doors were of rich oak and gleamed with metal strapwork.
As we got closer, a strange feeling overcame me.
To the right of the castle, beneath the snow-heavy branches of a pine tree, stood an alabaster fountain.
It was so white that I would have missed it in the snow were it not for the bluestone beside it.
That’s when I remembered. The lake sword, in one of its rapid cascades, had shown me this fountain.
Two women emerged from an adjacent barn, carrying pails of what looked like fresh milk. They saw us and stopped.
“Merlin? Is that you?” called one of the women. Her hair, pinned back with diamonds, was the whitest silver, yet silken and youthful and flowing down her back. She had smooth dark skin and large, intense eyes the color of an approaching storm.
“Laudine!” Merlin waved and slowed the cart. “Good day to you. Is Yvain home?”
“Not today,” she said. “He is expecting you up at the court. Lunete is putting me to work, as you can see.” She smiled at the woman next to her, who wore a work apron beneath her cloak.
“It’ll do you good,” Merlin joked. “We’re headed to Camelot now. May I introduce you to Lancelot?”
Laudine nodded, but Lunete stopped herself mid-curtsy. “Lancelot! Viviana’s Lancelot? Of the isle with the lake? It’s truly you?”
I jerked back in shock. Laudine shot her a reproving glare.
“Lunete, you mustn’t.”
“But he is famous,” she whispered back.
“If you see Yvain,” said Laudine, “tell him to be home by supper.” Then she turned to me and winked. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lancelot.”
“And you as well,” I said. “Both of you.”
As Merlin clapped the reins, Lunete shook her head, mystified. “Lancelot of the Lake,” I heard her say. “Here at Castle Landuc.”
Past the castle, Merlin turned to me.
“You might as well get used to that. Your legend precedes you.”
“How?”
“Bards mostly. They love to sing about Viviana and the sisterhood.”
“What else do they know about me?”
“Well.” Merlin rubbed his crooked nose. “Very little, actually. They know the prophecy around you, they know of your origins, perhaps they’ve heard of your training. But that’s it.”
“That seems like quite a lot?”
“Trust me, that’s nothing. The bards spin all sorts of tales. And the worst part is you’ll have no control over any of it. I once heard a song all about my apparent love affair with Viviana.”
“Do they sing about Laudine?” I asked. “The fact that she is a descendant?”
Between the sword showing me the fountain and Laudine’s striking resemblance to Sebile, I’d put the pieces together.
He eyed me sharply, huffed out a laugh. “You’re beginning to catch on.”
We emerged from the forest into a frosted meadow. On one side were pastures and farmlands. On the other, the sea.
“You should see it at harvest time,” Merlin said.
“The soil is rich here, crops are hearty, the orchards bear the largest fruit. These meadows are filled with the most beautiful flowers and the bees buzz between them, and the land comes alive. It’s too cold now for any of that.
But once we cross into the city, it all feels quite snug and cozy this time of year. You’ll see.”
The city of Camelot hugged the ocean and radiated down from the castle, which was perched atop a small mountain.
Hundreds of dwellings lay outside the castle’s walls, though a good deal seemed to exist within.
I could see the castle’s many towers, their silver roofs piercing the sky. It was even grander than I’d imagined.
“Unless there’s an imminent threat, people come and go freely here,” said Merlin, waving to a guard. “Camelot, as a whole, is mostly peaceful.”
As we rode through the gate in the curtain wall, the snow began to fall again.
Light flakes swept through the busy streets lined with shops, inns and temples.
I had never seen so many people fluttering through one place, and even in my numb state I felt pinpricks of excitement.
Everyone in Camelot walked with purpose, on their way to sell or purchase, to eat or drink or find a room to sleep one off.
I recognized the central square from the lake vision, but it was far more lively in person.
We passed by money changers jangling bronze coins, carpenters delivering freshly hewn cedar.
The aroma of honey pastries drifted through the bakery doors, where a line extended past the Olney Arms. Outside a merchants’ guild, I saw an eclectic assortment of items ranging from elephant tusks and crystal wands to fur-lined mantles and a bronze neck-ring.
At every turn, statues of gods presided over the road, their plinths overflowing with herbs and tokens.
The sound of panpipes floated through alleys, mingling with the harmonic chants from the church to our right.
“St. Stephen’s,” said Merlin, nodding to its arched entrance. “I’m not much for the new ways myself, but its stained-glass windows rival the castle’s.”
Merlin reared back, nearly avoiding a collision with a pushcart of vegetables.
“Watch it!” shouted the man with the cart, before looking up and clutching his chest. “Merlin. My apologies.”
Merlin gave him a polite nod and continued to negotiate the thoroughfare, which had taken notice of our wagon.
I could feel the city’s eyes upon me. The turns and whispers, the hushing and pointing.
The crowd itself reflected every age, rank, hair style, skin tone, carriage and manner of dress under the sun.
And all of them seemed to stop and look at us.
“They recognize you then?” I said to Merlin.
We had nearly reached the castle gates. Merlin slowed the horses and pulled into the barbican.
“No, Lancelot,” he said. “They recognize us both.”