Ruins of Camelot (8 page)

Darrick peered back over his shoulder, up at the stained-glass window behind him.  "They need heroes," he answered.

Gabriella turned and followed his gaze.  Behind them, the glass knights glared down, their faces grave and handsome, their swords and shields at the ready.

"I was taught that it was a good thing that there was no longer a council of the Round Table," she said softly.  "Father told me that it meant that we live in a time of peace.  There is no need of a coalition of war when there are no wars to be fought."

Darrick nodded.  Gabriella continued to frown up at the stained glass.  "It always made me sort of sad," she mused.  "When I was a girl, I longed for the days when gallant men rode in force against beasts and villains, marauding armies and unstoppable foes."

"Every boy I knew growing up wanted to be brave Sir Lancelot," Darrick added, smiling wistfully.  "I was one of them."

"But you
aren't
!" Gabriella hissed suddenly, turning back to him.  "You're Darrick.  You are to be my husband, not some military officer running into the heat of battle.  You belong to me, not the Kingdom."

"We all belong to the Kingdom—" Darrick began, but she interrupted him.

"I won't have it!  Let the people have their heroes if they need them, but not you.  I need you more than they do."

"Bree," Darrick said, grasping her hand earnestly, "I can be both.  It is your father's wish.  It is my duty.  I do not resist it.  What are you afraid of?  Surely not some rabble of malcontents hiding in the northern hills?  I
long
to rout them out and put an end to their debauchery.  Why do you rage against this?"

Gabriella met his gaze, her brow still furrowed in a tense frown.  She pressed her lips together and shook her head.

“When you asked my father for my hand,” she said quietly, “I was prepared for him to say no.  When was the last time a princess was allowed to marry anyone outside of royalty?”

“Even now,” Darrick reminded her, “the King’s decision is political.  He was being pressured to form an alliance with Marche, symbolized by your marriage to that insufferable old Prig, Prince Thurnston.  Your choice to marry me sends a clear message, not only to the royal family of Marche, but to the people of Camelot.”

“I know all of this,” Gabriella said impatiently.  “But it is all too easy, somehow.”

Darrick raised an eyebrow.  “Do you wish your father had said no?”

“Of course not.  There’s just something about it all that seems wrong.”  She paused and looked up again, at the stern knights in their glassy frame.  “It’s as if… my father is hardly even
trying
anymore.”

Behind Darrick, the doors to the King's inner chambers swept open.  Gabriella let out a pent breath and closed her eyes.  Darrick held her hand for a moment longer and then stood.

"Your Highness," he said.

"Sir Darrick," the King said, and Gabriella cringed.  She opened her eyes and stood as well.  Her father looked at her consideringly.  "My daughter, love of my life," he sighed, "I see by your face that you have already learnt the news that I summoned you here for."

"I am sorry, Your Highness," Darrick said, glancing aside at Gabriella.  "I could not keep it from her.  She asked me directly."

The King accepted this with a nod.  "I am glad that the husband of my daughter prizes honesty.  Nevertheless, do come into my chambers.  There are other less weighty matters for us to attend."

Gabriella was feeling neither jovial nor compliant.  "What matters, Father?" she asked, not moving.

The King had begun to turn, but he stopped and looked back at her.  His eyes were black and inscrutable, but he smiled.  In that smile, she saw that he understood her response completely and did not hold it against her.

"Serious days are upon us, daughter," he said.  "There will be plenty of time for congress and debates, and you shall attend them all.  Indeed, you have grown so that I daresay I could not keep you from them even if I wished.  You will no longer be satisfied to listen from the wardrobe outside my door, will you?"

Gabriella couldn't help smiling at the memory.  She shook her head and then moved to join him in the door to his chambers.

"I will welcome you into my council," the King said, placing his arm around her.  "But I will miss the little girl in the wardrobe.  I hope you won't begrudge me that."

"How could I?" she answered, letting him embrace her.  When she stood back from him again, she was somewhat surprised to see the Magic Master, Professor Toph, standing within the King's chambers nearby, smiling somewhat mistily.

"So what is it you wish to discuss, Father?" Gabriella asked, taking Darrick's hand and following the King into his rooms.

"You do not think," the King replied, glancing back with a strange smile, "that I would allow my only child to wed without giving her and her beau a royal gift?"

With that, the King led them through the depths of his chambers, followed quietly by Professor Toph, who smiled and nodded inscrutably when Gabriella glanced at him.  She had an idea that the Magic Master was much shyer by nature than his public status allowed him to be.  His gold, tasseled robes, ruffed collar, and white peaked hat would have seemed impressively mysterious on anyone else.  On him, the ensemble appeared to be worn by a kindly, old, bachelor uncle on his way to a costume ball.

The King's chambers were cluttered, as usual.  Books, quills, and sheaves of parchment littered nearly every surface.  A white bearskin rug stretched between a collection of low, richly upholstered chairs, all arranged somewhat haphazardly before an enormous hearth.  A tea set, now cold, sat on the corner of the rug, awaiting the steward.  The curtains were closed, reducing the space to a chilly cave-like gloom even at mid-morning.

Gabriella had dim memories of what these rooms had been like when her mother had still been alive.  There had been less disorder then of course.  The tables had been regularly cleared, dusted, and made resplendent with fresh flowers arranged in huge, colourful vases.  The curtains had always been pulled back to let in the sunlight.  Gabriella treasured faint images of her mother sitting in one of the upholstered chairs by the fire, writing letters or reading correspondence as flecks of dust danced like fireflies in the sunbeams all around her.  It was a beautiful memory, albeit a little sad.

Fortunately, the King led them past his cluttered den and out into the sunny warmth of the private balcony.  A desk had been set up there, with three chairs arranged around it.  In the centre of the desk, its polished lid glinting mellowly in the sun, was a small, wooden box.

"Let us be seated," the King said, easing himself into the largest of the chairs.  "Professor Toph has a story to tell us before we open this very interesting box."

Gabriella was curious despite herself.  She settled into one of the chairs and smoothed her gown over her knees.  Darrick sat next to her, placing her between him and her father.

"The first bit of the story really is not mine to tell, Your Majesty," Toph said, drifting slowly behind the desk and resting his thin hands upon the wooden box.

"Indeed," the King answered, "but you tell it so much better than I.  Go on.  Regale us."

Toph nodded and closed his eyes for a moment.  When he opened them again, he was looking at Gabriella.

"Forgive me, Princess.  Some of this will provoke unpleasant memories.  Bear with me, for it will end well."

Gabriella nodded, smiling and frowning slightly at the same time.  Toph began to speak.

"Many years ago, as you will certainly recall, upon a winter's midnight, there came an attack upon this very castle led by a well-organised band of assassins.  Barbarian men from the north had infiltrated the city, trickling in by ones and twos as part of a coordinated plan to murder your parents and capture Camelot in the name of Emperor Aurengzia.  But for the quick action of the palace guard, these men might have succeeded.  Sir Percival roused your father, who immediately ordered that you and your grandmother be evacuated from the castle under the protection of three royal guards.  These men helped you escape via the servants' entry but were waylaid at the city gates.  There, your guards gave their lives fighting off the murderers whilst you and your grandmother fled, riding in a common hay cart.

"By evening of the next day, the marauders were finally captured and dispatched.  Unfortunately, as you well know, the villains were not stopped soon enough to prevent them from partially succeeding in their vicious plot.  Your mother, the Queen, was murdered in these very halls, cornered by a lone, rogue barbarian who had managed to slip past the guards."

Toph paused for a moment in his retelling.  Gabriella felt Darrick's eyes on her.  She glanced at him and gave a small smile. 
It is sad,
her smile seemed to say,
but it was a long time ago, and I'm all right now.
  Darrick didn't look convinced.

"When it was finished," Toph continued, "your father, the King, was stricken with grief, and yet his worries were far from over.  He sent men to retrieve you from your hiding place, a tower keep on the southern border, but they found the tower empty with no sign of your occupation.  Further, he learnt that the guards that had been assigned to protect you had been killed.  He feared the worst but did not abandon hope.  A search was launched, scouring the snowbound Kingdom for word of your whereabouts.

"Finally, after twelve days, your father remembered a small lakefront hunting cottage in the eastern hills that his own father, King William Xavier the Second, had sometimes taken him to as a child.  It was remote, virtually forgotten by all save for himself and his mother.  Perhaps, he surmised, this was where she had escaped with you.  Desperate but hopeful, he himself led the search party, crossing the snowy wilderness and finally reaching the lake and the small cottage that stood by it.  He recognised the old building by the broken vane upon its roof, and sure enough, to the surprise and delight of all, he found you inside, both you and your grandmother, safe and sound."

"I remember it as if it were happening this very moment," the King said soberly, reaching to cover Gabriella's hand with his own.  "My mother was weakened with hunger and the exertion of the journey, but she told me how you had cared for her even though you were barely seven years old.  She told how you had gone out each evening, dressed in your red hood and cloak, in search of winter berries and firewood.  She explained how you melted snow to make drinking water, warming it on the stove.  You cared for her even when it was she who was meant to protect you."

"And she told of something else as well," Toph added seriously, "something that has been a secret for many years, known only to her, myself, and your father."

He paused again, his brow low and thoughtful.  Gabriella waited for her father to urge the professor on, but he did not.  Finally, she spoke up herself.

"That's a fine secret if you do not intend to share it even now."

Toph blinked at her and then smiled slightly.  Gabriella noticed that, for the moment, the professor seemed neither shy nor silly.  His robes and tassels gleamed in the sunlight.  Finally, he lowered his eyes, dipped a hand into his inner pocket, and produced his black walnut wand.

"You know the truth, I think, that I am not an actual wizard," he said, holding the wand up and turning it slowly between his fingers.  "I can perform some small magic with this wand of course, but the magic is not my own.  The power belongs solely to this wand as the symbol of my post.  Its enchantments can be performed by anyone with the patience and the dexterity to learn its use.  It was carried by Magic Master Gaunt before me and Leofrick before him.  In fact, the use of this wand goes all the way back to the time of Arthur the King himself, to the great Merlinus Ambrosius, who crafted it.  It was he who gave this wand its magic, and do you know why?"

Toph looked from face to face, and Gabriella saw that he was not expecting a response.  He drew a deep breath and soberly answered his own question.