Beyond the Crimson (The Crimson Cycle) (16 page)

Lancelot
.

I hadn’t officially met him yet, but I knew of him from legends and figured out who he was from Bors’ story. The tales about his handsome face were true. His cheek bones were high and defined, much more slender than Arthur and Brendelon and he kept his dark hair slightly longer but not quite as long as Bedivere’s. He was tall but almost pixie-like, and despite the stories of his courage and bravery, he seemed delicate. He smiled at me
, and I could see how girls could melt, but he was nothing compared to Brendelon and as mad as I was, I still wished it was him that was in front of me.

“Would you be so kind a
s to accompany me in a dance?” His voice was like honey, thick and sweet, slowly dripping out the words.

I was still agitated that he asked Brendelon permission like I was some object
, but I didn’t have it in me to be rude. “Sure,” I said. “You know, you didn’t have to ask Brendelon. I don’t belong to him.”

He frowned.
“It was cowardly, I know,” he said softly. His dark brown eyes drooped slightly as though he was genuinely upset with himself. “But the wrath of the raven is not one I want.”

I couldn’t help but giggle.
“Well, I suppose I can understand that.”

“Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?” he asked, lowering his head as he gazed at me with puppy dog eyes.

I nodded and smiled at him even though I felt slightly uncomfortable, almost like I was betraying Brendelon.
But I’m not
, I reasoned with myself. After all, he made it clear how he felt and gave him the go ahead; why should I be concerned?

He smiled back.
“Are you having a pleasant time dancing?” he drawled out.

“Yes, although I still don’t quite have all the dance steps down.”

“Here, allow me help you.” And before I could say another word, he swept me up into a dance, and I found it rather easy. “I am Lancelot by the way,” he said politely.

I smiled back.
“I’m Katarina.”

“I know,” he said quietly, spinning me around playfully.

He was a great leader, easy to be around and strong enough to pull me along through all the moves, making me feel like I was actually a talented dancer, despite my incoherency. He made a funny face at me, and I giggled. Okay, so he was charming too, but I still did not understand the affair story with Arthur’s to-be queen. In my opinion, Arthur outshone him in every way. He twirled me once more, spinning me back in seconds, but the smile had fallen from his face as he stared at something over my shoulder.

He lea
ned in close to my ear. “Me thinks he was lying,” he whispered then he pulled away and kissed the top of my hand flashing me a charismatic smile. “You are a very fine dancer.” And before I could respond, he had strolled on to a new partner, leaving me in disarray as though it were simply some slow-motion dream sequence.

But then the dream faded into a nightmare as I turned aro
und, finally seeing what he saw; the dark knight storming towards me with a very entertained Gawain right on his heels. I blinked, swaying as I tried to find my balance as the wine, ale, mead, and all other poisons I had put in my body mixed with the nervous stomach acid that woke up at the sound of fear. He put a rough hand on my back, pushing me towards the door. “Time for you to retire,” he said angrily.

“Leave me ‘lone,” I slurred, shaking myself away from him, remembering that I was suppose to hate him. I rudely snagged Elaine’s drink out of her delicate hand, not because I wanted it
, but more so make a point. 

“You have had enough,” he growled, shoving the cup back to her. 

“Why do you care?” I blubbered out.

“Aye
, Bran,” Gawain boomed stepping in on his right, throwing on arm on him. “You
said
you cared not and now you have scared Lance away,” he mocked in a childish tone, grinning mischievously, but Brendelon’s snarled and suddenly he swung his right arm around knocking Gawain’s stump off his shoulder and shoved him backwards with such force he nearly toppled over the table to the right, sending a few jugs crashing to the floor.

“Either you walk out of here or I will throw you over my shoulder and carry you out!” he threatened, pointing at me.

I widened my eyes. “You wouldn’t dare,” I whispered looking around, thinking of how absolutely humiliating that would be.

He grinned.
“Try me.”

Gawain regained his stance, turning murderous hazel eyes onto the back of his friend
, but as he stepped forward Lancelot swung in, holding him by the shoulders, trying to calm him down.

Brendelon grabbed my arm and yanked me towards the
door. Afraid to be the reason for a fight between him and the giant, along with being carried out like a child, I moved quickly out of the dining hall.

“What’s your problem?” I screamed once we were out of earshot, freeing myself from his grasp.

“
You
!” he yelled back in a matched tone. “You have been a dagger in my side since I met you!”

“Then go ‘
way.” I pushed him out of my way. “I can get myself home!” I turned to go back into the hall, but he moved in front of me blocking my path. “Move!” I shouted.

“
I told you, you are going to sleep now,” he said officiously.

“You aren’t my boss!” I tried to push past him
, but he was far too strong for me, and he laughed at my feeble attempt to get around him.

“I am not so certain I like you as a shrew,” he said humorously.

“Who cares!” I said, not entertained as he. “You don’t like me anyway.” The words hurt even as I said them, and suddenly my stomach turned, and I felt a burning start to rise, but this wasn’t just emotion; it was wine, and it clawed at my insides like a trapped beast. I clutched my stomach and doubled over.

He put a hand on my shoulder.
“Too much wine?” he asked with slight mockery to his beautiful voice. “How are you to get yourself home if you cannot even handle yourself with drink?”

I groaned.
“I never drank wine before.”

“Never?” he asked incredulously.

“Well, I had a sip once but I’m only eighteen.” My stomach twisted as the floor spun around and around and around.

“
Only?
” he said with a snort.

I forgot they probably had been drinking since they got off the bottle… or wet nurse… wha
tever it was. I pushed past him. “I need to go outside,” I moaned. I needed fresh air.

He put a gentle hand on my back and led me back to the courtyard. The cool air refreshingly hit my face
, and all I wanted to do was lay on the cool grass to stop my interweaving belly.

“Focus on something,” he said. “I
t helps the swaying.”

I put my head on my arms as I leaned forward on a cool stone wall, focusing
on a small spot in the grass. “Why are you even here?” I grumbled, peeking at him from under my arm, feeling angry but mostly embarrassed that he was seeing me in such a pathetic condition. 

  “I cannot have you putting yourself in danger,” he said, crossing his arms smugly, returning to hi
s usual arrogant self. “You
clearly,
” he rocked forward on his feet to enunciate,
“
cannot take care of yourself, and I am indebted to make certain you are safely returned.”

His words ignited a new set of flames inside me, ones scorched the alcoholic acid. I stood straight and glared at him. “I thought you were selfish,” I derided, “and don’t care for anyone but
yourself
? Or is that all just some act to hide behind because you’re afraid to let people know who you really are?” The words came out before I knew it.

“An
act
?” he practically roared, dropping his arms and stepping menacingly closer, making me wince; I hadn’t expected him to get so angry.

I gulped
, but I wasn’t going to back down. “Yeah,” I challenged lifting my chin upward.

His right nostril rose upward, green eyes turned black as coal, and his breathing deepened; I was slightly worried I had gone too far. “You know nothing about me!” he snarled. “I fear nothing nor do I care about
anything
.” His eyes were wicked and his words were slightly slurry; I knew he was under the effects of alcohol too. If I had been smarter I would have stopped, but I couldn’t.

“Then why do you care whether or n
ot I make it to bed!” I shouted. “Why do you care who I am dancing with!”

He crossed his arms,
tightening his eyes. “As I said, I am only
indebted
to you. I bestowed you with a favor,” he snarled again. “You know nothing of Lance or the things he does, especially with senseless girls like you.”

“Fine.
” I pushed my long hair back over my shoulder, trying to be as casual and collect as an inebriated person could possibly be. “Well, you saved me from a dragon and a hideous troll, call us even. And since we’re even, it isn’t any of your business what I do, who I dance with and talk to, or
when
I go to bed.” I turned to stalk off, but he roughly gripped my arm again, whirling me back to face him.

He was furious.

“What means you by that?” he snarled.

“What I mean is if you are only taking care of me because you feel indebted to me, don’t worry about it anymore. Your
debt
is paid.” I shook my arm out of his grip, my fake imperturbable demeanor finally losing to my anger. “I don’t need any favors from you, and I definitely don’t need you kissing me just because you drank too much and feel
indebted
to me!”

“I foolishly told you about my past because I drank too much, I am making certain you are safe because I am indebted, and I
kissed
you because I
wanted
to,” he growled, black eyes staring forebodingly at me.

His honesty took me off guard.

“I…I don’t understand you,” I whispered.

A dark smile curled on the right side of his mout
h, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Nobody does.”

He stepped back, looking at me for a brief moment like he wasn’t sure if I was a friend or an enemy. Then suddenly
, thunder cracked wickedly in the clear sky and in the same instant he doubled over with his hand clasped to his side making an odd moaning sound, almost as if someone had stabbed him.

“Are you okay?” I asked, suddenly filled with worry.

He kept his head down for a moment, cursing under his breath as he turned his left wrist but the shadows veiled my view, finally he lifted his head, looking up to me with strange confused eyes, slowly standing up straight, and gripping his left wrist as his eyes turned back to dark.

“I am fine,” he grumbled, tucking hi
s left hand under his right arm. “Go to bed, Katarina,” he commanded. I watched him carefully. “Now!” he barked, making me jump. Part of me wanted to stay but a bigger part was nervous to cause anymore unnecessary drama and sleep sounded calming. He gave me one last dirty look before I turned and walked back to the castle. I wasn’t an expert on men, but he had to be a whole different level than most. 

He stared out the window watching the mounting white cloak suffocate the once green fields. He wanted to be outside. He cared nothing about the cold; the thriving chill would be welcomed compared to the lifeless walls that confined him
. It was dreadfully dull inside. In fact, it was enough to send him to his grave, and it had only gotten worse since Bedivere had left to go home for the Christ Mass. He sighed and looked over to the new pants and fancy shirt that had been given to him. It was the only gift he had received. He should be happy with such, as many boys got nothing at all, but he was not happy; he was lonely, and worse than that, he was bored.

“Mother says Uncle Ennio
n should have given you nothing,” a shrill voice pierced through the stagnant air. Allistair. He grimaced and slowly turned around to face the pompous twit. “She says your soul is as black as your hair and that you are so rotten not even your mother loves you,” he continued cruelly. “In fact, she says you are the very reason your father died.” The words sent arrows through his stomach, and he could feel the wrenching acid move up into his throat. Allistair flipped his curly golden locks, giving him a smug, all-knowing look, and all he wanted to do was smash the boy’s face till it was no longer recognizable, but instead he forced a smile.

“I did kill him,” he said before thinking. Allistair gulped
, as horror took his pointy features, and this time the boy smiled for real. “That is right,” he said standing up and taking two deliberately slow steps toward the now frightened boy. “I took a knife and dug it straight through his heart,” he whispered viciously, putting his face frightfully close, “and I listened as he gasped for breaths, gurgling on his own blood until there was nothing more, and I dream for the day I can do it again.”

The freckled- face suddenly twisted and a loud shriek escaped from his
thin lips. The boy smashed his hand across the gaping hole, suddenly fearful of the consequence he was sure to be bestowed upon him, but Allistair wriggled from his grip and backed up towards the door.

“You… you…” he panted in terror, “you meant to kill me!” he suddenly accused.

“No, no, I was only playing,” the boy said quickly, putting both hands up to show him he meant nothing. “It was a jest. You like jests, do you not?”

He could see relief find its way into the terrified eyes
, but they suddenly turned rancorous. “You will suffer for that,” he threatened. “I am telling my mother!” And before the boy could say another word, the door slammed shut.

It only took a
moment before he could hear Ennion bellowing his name. He gripped his hair and groaned. It was not so bad with Ennion, at least he did not hit him—not yet anyway—but he made him do awful chores, and that was almost as horrific. 

The door swung open
, and he turned to face his judgment.

“I have been calling for
you,” Ennion said out of breath. “You have a visitor.” He gave the boy a sincere smile, and the boy felt his heart flutter, thinking for a brief moment it might be his mother. It had been over a year now; maybe that was long enough for her to forgive him for his father’s death, or even just long enough for her to miss him. But the long shiny black hair he had hoped to see was replaced by a coarse white beard and warm blue eyes.

Merlin.

But despite the ache of disappointment, he found himself
to be happy.

“Well, hallo there, boy,” Merlin greeted, smiling so wide the crinkles reached his eyes. He wrapped his arms around the boy, pulling him into a hug and though it felt uncomfortable, it also soothed his loneliness
, and he found himself not minding it as much as he had expected he would.

“Do you have any new stories?” he asked eagerly.

He let out a soft chuckle. “Nothing new, boy, but I do have something I think you will like.” He motioned for one of the servants to step forward, and as he did the boy noticed the long box he held in his hands. A present!

He grinned
, and at that same moment Allistair and his wicked mother rounded the corner of the hall both looking appalled at the gift that was about to be handed to him. “What about me?” Allistair suddenly cried out.

Merlin turned.
“Apologies Allistair, I knew not that you would be here, but it would seem you have received plenty of gifts from your mother. I think you will suffice,” he added, and though the boy successfully fought back the urge to stick out his tongue to the lowly freckled-face swine, he could not stop the smirk that played on his lips.

He ripped through the box
, and there lying on a crimson cloth was a shining steel sword, a man’s sword, one that was nearly as large as he. He stared at it, never in his life seeing something so breathtaking. “Is it really for me?” he whispered.

Merlin knelt beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Aye, but you must be careful. It takes great responsibility to carry a sword like this, can you do it?”

He nodded his head fervently, but he heard a loud snort behind him.

“You could not trust that boy with a feather
, and you are to give him a weapon?” Allistair’s mother hissed. “Do you know what kind of boy he is?”

The boy willed her with his eyes to shut her mouth, fearful Merlin would take it back. Merlin turned an
d faced him, eyes still warm. “Aye, I know him well,” he replied without looking at her. “He will do right.”

Guilt swallowed
his joy. Merlin had taken no heed to his mother’s warning about his dark-soul; he knew him not at all. He had never been good. He was not even good enough for a mother to love. He looked down at the sword. It was sword for a knight, and knights were right and just. He was none of those things. But maybe he could change that. His eyes lit up, and he looked at Merlin. If he tried hard enough, he could be good like his friends, and he would be. He would practice and stay focused the way Arthur and Bedivere always did. He would win the youth tournaments, and one day he would be the greatest knight there ever was.

I woke up to a light tapping on my door. I sat up suddenly unsure of where I was, glancing around the small chamber as my memories came back to me bringing along a pounding head and a nauseous stomach. Clearly an aftereffect of the all the wine I had consumed, stuck in a world without even the comfort of ibuprofen or antacids. I frowned, feeling foolish for the way I had acted last night, furious with myself for inhibiting the control over my emotions with alcohol. I sighed and rolled out of the bed that I had somehow clambered into without even changing my dress and shuffled my way to the door, moaning as my stomach argued with my movements.

“Morning sunshine!”
Elaine piped. This girl’s energy was boundless. She held a plate of different fruits and cheeses and a silver cup, thrusting it into my hands. She bounced over to Chance and rubbed her hand over his back. “Did you bring this adorable dog with you?”

“No, Brendelon saved him,” I mumbled taking a seat in a chair, placing the dishes on the small table.

She turned to me with lowered eyebrows. “
Brendelon?
” she said with an unbelieving smile.

I laughed.
“Okay, well maybe I begged him too.”

She giggled.
“Well, that certainly makes more sense.”

I smiled weakly, feeling all the painful emotions roll back into my body. Her face softened as she crossed her legs on the bed
, looking at me kindly. “What happened last night?” she asked softly.

I was about to tell her nothing but before I knew it
, my feelings boiled over. “I don’t know, one minute he was being charming and sweet and the next callous and rude. I don’t even know which way to look with him… I keep trying to figure out if it was something I did, but all I can come up with is that he is just simply a jerk—” I looked at her confused face. “Well, an ill-mannered brute.”

She huffed out a breath.
“I could have told you that,” she said. “He has no reason to sweeten up to anyone. He has all the right friends in all the right places and the name to pave all his roads in gold.”

“Beaumont?”

She laughed and flopped backwards on the bed. “No,
Pendragon,
Katarina. He is the nephew to the once High King, cousin to the future, and heir to it all God forbid anything happen to Arthur before he has a son.” She propped herself up on her elbows, raising an eyebrow at me. “Although, it is rather surprising he even talks to you as much as he does. I have never seen him give any of the girls here a moment of his
precious
time,” she said with a small laugh at her own joke.

I looked at her curiously.

“Oh, he likes girls as much as they like him that is not what I meant!” she said continuing to laugh at my expression. “It is just that, well, you know…”

But I didn’t know;
her words drifted off the same way Kay’s did. “No, I really have no idea,” I said carefully.

She sighed, sitting upright as she pulled Chance into her lap brushing his fur with
her fingers. “He just prefers company with girls who do not expect more than… well, you know… ones he will never have to see again… no emotions and no attachments.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling sicker than before. That was right, needs and emotions were not the same. I was beginning to hate those two words. They were both cruel in their own way.

She looked at me sympathetically for a moment. “But I mean obviously it is different with you…”

I huffed out a breath.
“Yeah, apparently he is indebted to me,” I said sulkily, despising myself for being such a pathetic fool.

She twisted her mouth to the s
ide, looking at me pitifully. “Well, it could be worse…” she started, “he does not even acknowledge most people’s existence, including myself.”

I knew she was trying to make me feel better but at this point
, I doubted anything would.

I grabbed the plate and plopped down next to Ela
ine, feeding the food to Chance; my stomach was not going to allow any substance at this point. “I need to take Chance outside and I would really like to take a bath.”

She smiled and put her hand on my shoulder
. “Now,
that
I can help you with.”

*****

Elaine had to go back to her duties and though I felt much better now clean and refreshed, my stomach was still bothering me. The castle was too muggy
and I longed for the cool ocean breeze of my hometown. 

Not sure of where to go, I found myself wandering to the horse stables, it felt familiar there. I leaned against the fence that had been the setting to the perfect moment last night, feeling the cool breeze console my nausea while the sun rays patted my back comfortingly. I watched the young black colt galloping playfully wi
th the other horses in the pen—the sound of his trot falling into a soothing rhythm—and began thinking of Brendelon’s story of freeing his father’s horses, and though I was still angry with him, I found myself missing him as a strange loneliness came over me. My heart twisted with longing for the fleeting moment that had passed far too quickly. I hated myself for not being smarter and now it was too late.   

             
“Good day, Katarina!” a cheery voice boomed from behind me, jolting me out of my thoughts. I whirled around, squinting against the sun as I was greeted by the jovial face of Bedivere.

             
“Hi Bedivere,” I said, feeling an unexpected calm by his presence.              

             
He smiled, walking closer to me as he glanced around. “Where is Bran? He does not seem to let you out his sight.” His lips twitched slightly and I figured he must have seen last night’s drama.

             
I blushed. “Why does everyone call him Bran?” I didn’t want to answer his question; I didn’t want to relive my ridiculous behavior, but took the opportunity to turn our conversation to him.

             
He laughed, tilting the bucket of water he was carrying into a trough, splashing tiny drops of cool water on me, and shrugged. “Probably came about from his hair.”

             
“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking,” I lied, hoping for more information. “He said it was because his mother thought him to be a dark-soul…” I felt bad telling Bedivere what Brendelon had confided in me, but I was hoping it would prompt him to spill more details, “but I didn’t really believe that,” I added quickly.

             
He lowered an eyebrow, putting the bucket down beside the fence post. “He told you that?” he questioned.

             
I nodded, feeling uncomfortable at how he looked at me as though I were lying. He paused, thoughtful for a moment, as he picked up a rope from the fence and began to wind it up in a tight circle using his elbow and hand to keep the distance equal. “He does not usually speak of his mother… in fact, he never does.”

             
Despite my better reasoning, the words sparked something inside of me, why would he tell
me
his story then? “Well, he had a lot to drink…” I started, still trying to make sense of it.