Love Woven Through Two Territories
***
After Merlin’s help with his armor, Arthur did attend knight training, informing Leon that he would take his place that day. The elder knight gratefully and respectfully moved aside. It was good to see the prince attending to his duty more, especially with the possible trouble brewing from Isgard.
First moments of it, a full session, not just a half, Arthur was still a bit rusty, and a few of the bolder knights seemed to want to challenge, but soon everything was back into place, Arthur proving why he often was called a fighting machine.
In secret, many hours later, within chambers, Arthur let out groans of soreness, his muscles worked so much more diligently than they had been in a long time. The room also quite chilled from winter’s continued early push, didn’t help matters. So it was up to Gwen to be of assistance after Merlin got him out of his armor. She stoked the fire until it flamed nicely in the hearth and sat down beside her husband on the bed, hearing his grunts. “Sore?” She asked with a hint of a sympathetic smile, getting Arthur to nod his head.
“Yeah.” He lifted his arm, grunting some more. “Oh.”
The training activities had been a thrill for Gwen to watch. She had noticed how often her husband would show his prowess and smile at her, getting the few maiden ladies also in attendance to watch with interest. She’d smile back properly, but with tingles of excitement. It made her gratified to see him act in such a lively invested way.
Now as his soreness continued, getting him to moan, she moved in front, untying his tunic’s laces.
Feeling her fingers fumble some, before they found their adeptness at the intimate task, Arthur stared. “Guine-
She cut him off, pressing her fingers against his chest. “Wifely duties.” Then she lifted away his tunic, pulling it over his head of sweating golden blonde hair, watching the dank strands go askew. With a smile she pushed them back down and sat behind him, grasping his bare shoulders with her small hands.
It took merely moments for Arthur to be leaning against her, sighing heavily. “Oh.”
“Feels good?”
“Yes.” He whispered.
Although Arthur sometimes slept without his tunic, this was the first time she touched so intimately his revealed skin. It felt tight, muscles of tendon and sinew ripe under her fingers. She kept up the conversation to not think about his appealing physique too heavily. “It probably was a bit taxing today. So many hours. Just one session. And that is why I’m so proud of you Arthur. Taking your lead today. Twice. Respectfully with your mother, and authoritatively with your men. It was a sight to see.”
He whispered back, as her fingers kneaded his shoulders and a bit lower. “You were watching then? I was pretty sure of it. Caught your eye a few times. But then you’d look away or I’d have to. Wasn’t totally certain.”
Gwen smiled. “Of course I was. Caught your eye too and that mischievous smirk of yours. I’ve always loved watching knight training actually. Used to spend hours observing my father and Lance-
The second name was out of her mouth before she could cut it off, but it didn’t feel as heavy as it would have months ago.
“Hmmm?”
Gwen gave no answer right away so Arthur turned back now; she could see his blue eyes so close, their gentle flicker of beryl fire studying her intently, while his breath blew somewhat chilled air over her cheek. Always a bit cold her husband, and yet it wasn’t entirely unpleasant, because the warmth was in his eyes. She imagined if she wanted she could warm up that mouth too.
Oh, what was she thinking? Gwen babbled now to pretend her thoughts hadn’t gone so wayward. “Lancelot. The man I was…sort of with in Tirmaiur. I used to watch him too.”
Suddenly Arthur was filled with conflicting feeling, wanting to know everything about Lancelot, and also wanting to pretend the man didn’t exist. “What do you mean sort of?”
Gwen’s hands had earlier been on her husband’s shoulders and back, but with him presently turned they were fallen a little down to his chest. She could feel one reaching a sensitive spot before she lifted it up quickly. “Well, he had stronger feelings for me than I for him.”
“Not so strange, a man’s strength of feelings for you.” Arthur murmured, concentrating upon his wife’s face, getting in a tiny little glimpse of her womanly constitution. “You’re a very good lure.”
Gwen blushed some, her head falling, but Arthur’s hands caught at hers, and one edged along her chin, getting her to look up at him. “We haven’t really talked about it in depth. I didn’t give you reason to. Were you intimate with him? In…well…”
Nothing more needed to be said. Arthur’s tone held strong innuendo and Gwen understood quite quickly what he meant. She shook her head vigorously. “No. Not at all. I’m a princess, Arthur. I always knew that I’d be betrothed some day. Such intimate relations, I would have been required to tell my husband of and that may have not made me look so favorable.”
Arthur sighed, knowing what his wife meant. It was sort of a double standard really. By medieval expectations, a husband could take whatever woman he wanted as long as the throne was kept intact and the relations were in private. A woman however could be considered many ugly things if she cheated upon her husband. Oh it happened of course, but women like that were often marked in vile ways. And if it happened before marriage they could even be considered ‘less valuable’.
It wasn’t something Arthur totally agreed with. “It would have been alright if you had. Well I may have been a little jealous. But it would make you no less honorable really. With what I’d been up to I don’t think I’d have the right to judge anyway.”
Gwen shook her head, admitting, “It never really came to that honestly. It was intimate at times, but never to that degree. Still, he’s a good man, and I wish our parting didn’t have to be so…bitter.”
Arthur turned his eyes to the ceiling. “I know. It was just as bitter, if not more-so with Elaine.”
“So you regret it, ending what you had with her?”
Adamantly Arthur shook his head, his hand grazing along his wife’s waist. “No. I actually feel freer now. I didn’t like being in hiding.”
Gwen wondered about his answer for a few moments, before returning her attentions to her husband’s back and shoulders, getting him to turn again so she could continue the massage. “Well, as I was saying, I enjoyed it, the training. When I saw you today, talking to that knight who was trying to resist you at first, how you showed him your sword and quietly, yet efficiently, without being boastful, without being hurtful, proved you were the leader, I liked that very much. And I could see the men’s respect for you then. You were such a leader.”
Arthur chuckled softly. “That man you speak of was Gwaine. He’s actually been a friend for many years, but when I stopped training as much it added some prickles to our friendship. It felt really good today, you know, better than I realized it would. I’m just still a bit surprised it interested you so much. Not all women react the way you do.”
Every word he spoke of his gratification at having her watch put Gwen at added ease. She couldn’t help it if she wanted to, emotions so languid and free now. Her hands slid away from Arthur’s back of their own accord, and rounded over his arms, finding a spot upon his naked chest to rest themselves upon. His skin was actually quite warmer now, massaged and cared for.
Arthur caught his breath at the surprise contact. While his body was often more chilled, hers was always the opposite, and the way she was touching him, well, it was more than just pleasant, heating up any leftover fragments of cold within him.
He confessed further, “Elaine especially never cared to watch. She would do what she could to get me away from it.” As Gwen said nothing in response, Arthur peered down at one of her small hands, catching how it lay gently over his heart, feeling the contact bringing the beat up. He lifted it up slowly to his lips, and pressed down with his mouth for a quick kiss. “I’m glad you see it differently.” He murmured softly.
“Mmmm…” Gwen’s eyes were closed now, her body and mind so relaxed. Arthur shifted his head to feel those ringlets of curls against his skin. Spontaneously he stated it. “I want to go with you tomorrow to do the rounds. Make sure none of what was going on today is happening anymore.”
“Mmm…” Gwen murmured again, his contact so alluring and his words her greatest turn-on. “I would enjoy that very much my husband.” Maybe Merlin was right. Being so physically close to Arthur, now in such a private way, concealed within their shared chambers, most definitely felt…delicious. It was like practical sense flew out the window, replaced by this lazy pleasure.
Arthur was feeling much the same, that little hypnotic lure not wanting to let him go, as he didn’t want to let her go at this precise moment. Let them hold still like this. So warm. So right. Smiling with eyes half closed, he kept hold of her hand, loosely, howbeit with slow strokes from his fingers. His mind had no control over them. It was all feeling.
“Good, my wife.” He said more intimately than he ever had.
Relishing that word for the first time really.
Wife.
No. Two words.
My wife.
***
Another kingdom.
The head rolled off the platform getting the crowds of people to either scream in horror or clap in macabre joy.
A knight of Bayard’s forces now for over sixteen months, he moved carefully through the chaos. There were people fleeing and others rushing to thank Bayard. No doubt they didn’t want their head to roll off a platform too, as had been done to their now fallen dead king. He looked away with disgust as one of the knights raised it up into the air, swinging the object like it was a ball. Only the strands of bloodied hair proved it was no ball at all.
The knight advanced to a trail of tents at the edge of the conquered kingdom, stopping at the flap of one. It looked most like the others, wind torn, dull of shade, but this one too had something of secret marking it distinctly so that the knight knew for sure it was the right one. He stepped through the flap without hesitation, hearing a shrill voice come from the rear,
“Read your fortune handsome knight? Luck and good woman come to ye for sure.”
The knight carefully removed his helmet of war that disguised his mask of face, sitting down at the rickety table, and extending a tiny, but remarkable coat of arms. “The fortune of a kingdom is more of what I’m interested in, fortune teller.”
“Yes.” The person, dressed in a midnight blue colored cloak, moved forward with an elderly limp toward the table. Pulling back on the cloak’s hood just a bit, revealed a wizened womanly face, wrinkles so cut into the skin, they seemed like permanent markings since birth.
The knight let out a whistle, whispering covertly, “Elena did a good job. She’s always shown expertise with the makeup, but this, she’s outdone herself.”
“I look hideous. I know.” The elderly woman complained in a much gruffer voice now. “Even altered my vocal chords nearly perfectly with some awful concoction she made me drink. But it was necessary. If they found out who I truly am, everything would be ruined.”
Shuffling around, with a bit more of a stronger gait now, the woman came back with a rusted kettle. As she poured a drink into two iron cups, bits of her straggly white hair escaped the cloak.
“I need to get back soon. No doubt Bayard, after he’s done with his head-rolling festivities, will want to get his fortune done too, and then it might get a little precarious me being here. Since as you know, in the past, I’ve personally gone against Bayard before.”
The knight shook his head wryly, grimacing some at the sour taste of the drink. Probably had to do with the poor condition of the cup. Ah, wartime and what it meant to the condition of anything. His stomach might be complaining tonight. Better take it slow on the drink. He put the cup down. “Yeah, could have done us all a favor by just doing him in then.”
The elderly woman laughed, it coming out like a shrill cackle. “It was over five years ago, need I remind you, and it was a silly little battle about bandits and cattle. How was I to know then he was going to become the man to snatch up five kingdoms in a row within about a year’s time?”
“Baffles the mind.” The knight stated with incredulity. “He can’t even keep his own council in order. When they meet it’s like a tavern’s brawl, but now he’s managed to cut down five kings. Fie.”
“Okay.” The elderly woman drank shortly from her cup with a little less disgust. She was probably used to the acidic taste.
She put her gnarled hands down upon the table, drawing a sort of imaginary map. “From here to there. About a year’s time as I said, give or take. Newest is Chenary. Look at the distance from the first to the third especially. So great. And yet Bayard’s brain, we agree, is so feeble. Someone within is in on this for certain. Not even the keenest mind could do all this alone.”
“Well we’ve agreed on that since practically the start of all the kingdom conquering, but it’s gotten us no closer to an answer of who it is. Thing is this. Chenary is now lost, and all those foolish enough to be celebrating it with their new king will soon be fleeing for their lives. He works his people like animals. Not so nimble of mind, he still is a man of plain cruelty, a barbarian really. I’ve watched so many die since taking position in his guard. It’s made me even more incensed to learn how he’s doing it.”
The elderly tarot reader nodded her head, as outside continued the wails and shouts of a kingdom in total chaos. “Who’s next on the list?”
The knight grimaced. “Wish I knew for sure.” He wiped at his mouth with his finger after taking another quick drink. “Bayard hasn’t whispered a word, not even to his knighthood. He has little mind, but whoever it is on the inside is good at keeping him mum. All I know are the rumors and the name that keeps coming up, Isgard. Bayard seems to always start the conquering during a vulnerable point for each kingdom. A crack in an alliance and he’s there to open it up further and destroy. Within the Northern kingdoms’ alliance, it is Isgard who has been stirring up the most trouble. So yeah, my gold is upon Isgard. After that, could be wrong, but I have a feeling it will be Ascetir. They’re small and don’t have as much of an ocean border as prodigious kingdoms like Camelot.”
“What about Tirmaiur?” The elderly woman asked with the tiniest hitch of emotion.
“The knight looked miserable for a second, putting his head into his hands. “I don’t know for certain. I know he wants it, but something’s stopping him from getting to it yet. I’m guessing it’ll be the eighth.”
“Of course something’s stopping him. Tirmaiur is not the easiest territory to travel to, you and I both know, but beyond that, I have to grudgingly admit, is the strength of Camelot’s assistance.”
“Don’t be so sure. One rumor has it that Camelot too is on his list.”
“You can’t be serious! Any kingdom that has foolishly gone up against Camelot, I have to say, has lost with shame. Their guard is in the highest of numbers, impenetrable. I’ve seen how impressive they are at guarding Tirmaiur, keeping away the bandits and anything else that wants to get through. Attempting the conquest of Camelot would be like trying to crush a stone wall with a garden shovel.”
There was a shrill shriek and manic laughter from outside the tent, getting the knight to gesture dryly, “They’re rolling the head of the former king of Chenary around on the ground. Like it’s a toy That’s proof of what he can do. And don’t forget. Just five years ago in battle Camelot’s king was killed, hence the queen having to take over. Camelot is strong, but nothing is so stalwart that it’s unbreakable.”
The elderly woman ran gnarled fingers through her white hair tensely. “Which doesn’t bode well for Tirmaiur of course then. Such a fierce guard always to believe in, have sworn to it with my life, but the low numbers available now show the weakness. If Camelot with its big numbers cannot stop Bayard then that’s like saying nothing can stop him. We’re all doomed.”
The knight asked cautiously, “So we give up? Just surrender to Mercia?”
The elderly woman looked so aged now, her head down, before she lifted it with fierce, and oddly enough, young determination. “Never.”
The knight smiled. “That’s how I want to hear you talking.”
“You didn’t really think I was giving up, did you?” The elderly woman asked wryly. “Know me so little?”
The knight laughed. “Of course not. Just wanted to hear you state the contrary.”
They said nothing more for a handful of moments, sharing a look of conviction, and then the knight approached the topic carefully. “So…She married him. Another rumor spread around, but I’m guessing it’s true since it was talked about before I left on this…er…escapade.”
“No rumor. It’s true.” The elderly woman’s voice showed that crack of emotion again. “I feigned being furious with her before she left.”
“So you agree that it was the only choice then to safeguard Tirmaiur?”
“Of course. I don’t like it any more than you probably do, but with Camelot’s assistance, Tirmaiur is stronger. No matter how determined Bayard is, and even if you’re right and he can get through all the defenses because of who is helping him within, he’s for certain not to have an easy time of it. Won’t be like these first five. He should prepare for a struggle because Tirmaiur ,and Camelot too I’m betting, won’t go down without a fight to the death.”
The knight got up now, his fist tightening with inward battle. “It was over a year ago I left. Made my sister believe I was nothing more than a lost cause. Made all of Tirmaiur believe it. So that I’d be what Bayard wanted. Get accepted into his knighthood with my disguise of identity thanks to Elena. But look now. Five kingdoms lost. Tirmaiur in such potential peril that this alliance with Camelot had to be done. My sister having to marry a complete stranger. No choice of her own. I’m a failure to this point.”
The old woman stood up too, reaching out for the knight’s shoulder. This had to be one of the hardest tasks, leaving your homeland, never coming back for even a visit, while pretending to be someone you are not, fighting for a man you truly despised all to get the insider information.
“If he’s an unsavory man, this Camelot prince she married, he’ll have to deal with me, alright? No one expected you to get this done right away. We didn’t even know if it would work, getting Bayard’s forces to accept you into their knighthood. Thankfully it did, and so let’s concentrate on what matters. There’s been nothing, you’re sure of it? Nothing at all that could give us a clue to who Bayard is working with?”
The knight’s expression grew studious for a moment. “Well there is one thing. But I have no idea what it means. Bayard had a visitor. Nothing new. He’s always having different sorts who I can’t even catch a glimmer of. But something did happen after this one’s visit. Noticed it before the castle workers came by to clean up. A slip of paper was dropped. It’s ripped and messy, ink faded, but well, here, see if you notice something.”
The elderly woman took the ripped parchment, reading what was legible. “Ni---acquire. The Sp---Ug. Crush----Bl---dry.”
Her puzzled look got the knight to nod his head. “Yeah. Same as I thought. A riddle of no sense.” He started to pocket it away, but then the elderly woman reached for it, whispering, “Freya, she might be able to make something of it. Let me take it to her.”
“That’s just a game she and my sister have always played.” The knight complained.
The elderly woman was insistent though. “You never know. Can’t hurt.”
“Alright.” The knight let the elderly woman take the ripped parchment. They were about to say more when the tent flap was given a knocking to, and someone soon entered. The man, also in Mercia knight gear, but more messily, made his way to the other knight with a gruff bellow, his physique like that of a buffalo. Impressively frightening. “Oh, should have known it was you, Rulf! Always taking up the time of others. Well get, because I want a fortune reading too-
The elderly woman interrupted smoothly, her voice rising high now. “Listen here. You get back outside or you won’t like your fortune much, will you my Dear? This knight still has a few moments, and those should be in private. I’ll be telling ye your fortune in moment’s time. Wait till his departure and then you can come in and hear your future.” She stepped forward, touching his shoulder while keeping her own hunched to disguise true height. “No doubt it’ll be a good one. Have a sense about you.”
The man grinned at that, slapping Rulf on the shoulder so hard he had to fight to keep from stepping forward. The two of them waited until finally the buffalo knight was gone before speaking again.
“You’re right. An early exit from here is the best. Be smart, close up camp so you’re out of here before morning’s light.”
“That was the plan.” The elderly woman responded dryly, muttering how the buffalo man reminded her of Percival, just as big as him. And then, “Alright, get out of here. Before he knocks the tent over with his impatience.”
The knight smiled, putting on his helmet. The elderly woman took a look at the tent flap, seeing that it was closed all the way, and whispered fast against the knight’s ear. “Be cautious Elyan. See you at the next rendezvous. Rulf? Sounds like my dog back in Tirmaiur.”
The knight responded the same, in hushed tones so even if someone did try to listen outside, although the tent flap was good and thick, they wouldn’t hear a word. “Same with you Lancelot. Be watchful. Hope I have more to tell soon. Hey! It was the best I could come up with on short notice.”
And with that the knight, in truth, Prince Elyan of Tirmaiur, left the elderly woman to her own, who was no woman at all, but in truth Sir Lancelot of Tirmaiur, and a man who was in love with the king’s daughter. He slipped it out once more, the ripped parchment, thinking that, yes, if anyone other than Gwen could piece it together, it would be Freya for sure.
“That new husband of yours I hope is wise enough to be treating you right Gwen. Or he’ll have me to confer with.” He whispered softly, before pushing the paper back into his pocket and raising his voice with an elderly woman’s cackle. Elyan’s knight friend was impatiently waiting. “Come in Dear…Fortunes to be told! Great luck I see in your future!”
Great luck. Let it extend to Tirmaiur. Let that parchment mean something of value before another kingdom’s demise.
***
To be continued…
AN: What can I say about the delay, but I got sidetracked and when the muse came back in full I still had to make sure this chapter flowed well, and plan out in my head the story's continuation in stronger detail.
So with that done, I hope to get up the next chapter much more quickly. Hope27's inspiring images will be finding their way into the story shortly. We're getting to a very dramatic and relationship building point for Arthur, Guinevere etc...
Thanks so much for reading and being patient with me. As always feedback is adored. A good one to you my friends. :)