THE SHIELD OF LOCKSLEY
THE BRIDGE AT HOLLYBOURNE (Concluded)
They shared a meal of dried bread soaked in grease that Vergil heated up in a pan on the fire; there was also roast pheasant as well as the stew he’d made. They ate under the cover of an overhang Vergil had somehow tied to the trees, the rain puddling on top and running off the edges. Smoke from the fire winnowed through the trees and branches, and Brennis watched it as he ate, grateful to have finally broken his fast. He tried not to think about another uncomfortable night of sleeping in the rain. There was three bottles of wine they also shared as they ate in silence, and he felt it burning in his chest as he took a large swallow. He found himself staring at the woman, wondering where she had come from and where she was going.
When she finished eating, he watched her as she stood up and deliberately walked from out of the cover, sitting in the rain on a log, looking out over the pools of water. She voiced a silent prayer, mumbled a wordless song, and Brennis watched as they all turned to look at her; the rain slowed, and the clouds cleared, revealing a pale moon rising above the distant mountains. The setting sun broke through the cloud cover and left shafts of light reflecting in the water.
Brennis stared up at the clouds breaking apart, and saw Lamorak sit back, looking stunned as he stared into the flames of the fire. He took a drink of wine and passed the bottle to Vergil, shaking his head as if he’d just asked himself a question he was unable to answer. Brennis looked at the woman again, telling himself it had to be a coincidence—the world was full of coincidences—and then looked at Geoffrey who was still staring at the woman. It was people like Geoffrey that started rumours, he knew.
If he finds out she’s a Druid, she’ll be branded a witch.
“And where’s Godfrey?” Lamorak asked, wiping his greasy hands on his jerkin, staring at the woman once more. He turned when Geoffrey spoke.
“Gone off t’ warn yer Da’,” Geoffrey said, chewing around a mouthful of bread, still staring at the woman.
“My father?” Lamorak asked, the spell broken.
“Aye. He’s wit’ the Queen,” Locksley said.
“The Queen’s here?” Lamorak said, though more of a question than anything else.
“Launcelot left Cam’lot with Lionel. She set off after ‘im,” Geoffrey said, finally looking away from the woman and smiling at Lamorak, shrugging his shoulders lightly. “You know what she’s like.”
“Typical,” Lamorak said with a slow shake of his head. “Wait. Lionel? Not Ector? It’s not like Lance to go anywhere without his little brother,” he added.
“ ’Twas a great mal-ease how they were fore-fared, I say. ’Twas feloniously done! Both men, naked of arms. Him an’ Grummer prised away by the Orkney boys, an’ so enslavered to Tarquin,” Locksley said, staring into the fire.
“What? But…why? Those two are no threat to anyone.”
“The Orkneys ‘ave long believed ’twas yer father what slew Lot. They mean t’ avenge his death, much to the dismay of us all,” Geoffrey said, picking up the wine bottle and taking another drink.
“But why take Grummer out of the game? It is Grummer they want to take out, I’d think?”
“Aye. We come up on Ector but over-morn. The boy, too. Locksley’s took ‘im t’ Squire,” Geoffrey explained.
“And why would you do that?” Lamorak asked Locksley, looking at Brennis.
“Ever’one deserves a chance,” Locksley said. “He’s no diff’rent.”
“I’m just as good with a sword as the next man,” Brennis said, hoping there was an edge to his words that made them sound menacing. He doubted it.
“Ye don’t e’en have a sword,” Geoffrey reminded him, a light smile touching his lips.
“I suppose he’s taken them to his keep, then?” Lamorak said, turning to look at Geoffrey.
“ ’Tis where we’re bound,” Locksley said.
“Planning to challenge him, are you?” Lamorak smiled at the young knight, and Brennis looked at Locksley, thinking the young Knight would take offence.
“If I have to,” Locksley said with a smile and a nod.
“And what exactly does that mean?”
“Geoffrey thinks it might be better if we slip in under the cover of night an’ free ‘em.”
“Up to your old tricks again, are you?” Lamorak laughed at Geoffrey. “I always thought you were the brains of the outfit.”
“I do what I can,” Geoffrey replied. “I do what’s best for me. Even when I’m not in control.”
“And you’re Grummer’s nephew?” Lamorak said, looking at Locksley.
“He is,” Geoffrey said, and Brennis looked at the man, surprised Geoffrey would reveal what he’d told Locksley was a secret. “Lamorak’s a friend,” Geoffrey explained.
“You don’t want anyone to know?” Lamorak asked. “Why?”
“Grummer thinks it’d be wiser on the road if nae man knows. At Camelot, things will be different, of course,” Geoffrey said.
“And why would that be?”
“Ye doan know who the lad is?” Geoffrey asked.
“Should I?”
“Aye. T’was he made a Knight in the Field by your Da’.”
“That was you?” Lamorak said. “I’m grateful. I could never repay such a debt, but I’m yours until my last breath. And I mean it.”
“Were ye not there? At the battle?” Brennis asked.
“I was a day late,” Lamorak said, taking the wine bottle Vergil held out to him.
“Aye, a day late an’ a penny short,” Geoffrey laughed.
“I was being chased by a pack of twenty Saxons. In fact, I hid in that stone hut over there,” he added, pointing at the hut in the distance.
“Only twenty?” Geoffrey smiled.
“They came upon me naked, in my pavilion.”
“I take it ye doan mean unarmed,” Locksley smiled.
Lamorak turned and looked at him. “You’re your uncle’s kin, I can see that.”
Brennis watched the woman stand up, staring out over the water and facing the setting sun. She spread her arms wide, her shadow a jagged cross behind her. He watched her as she turned, looking at Lamorak, and he wondered what she was up to. It was obvious she was a devotee of the Old Gods, Brennis thought. It’s possible she’d once been a friend of Myrddin, and that maybe he’d taught her a spell or two, or maybe an incantation. He was overthinking it. It was also obvious Lamorak didn’t know any of that—probably didn’t even care to be honest—as long as she was willing to fuck him every night, which he was sure she’d been happy to do.
“Nim?” Lamorak called out. “What’re you doing?”
“You have your own path to follow, Lamorak,” she said, staring into the twilight. She turned to look at him. “Your path and mine part here. Tonight.”
“Now?” he said.
She nodded.
“Prepare yourself, Lamorak deGales.”
“Prepare myself? Prepare myself for what?”
She started to walk into the huge pool of water in front of her.
“What are you doing?” Lamorak asked, standing up. “Nim! Where are you going?”
“I’m already gone, Lamorak. You won’t see me once I pass the light of the fire. My resurrection is at hand!” she called out, stepping into the encroaching darkness.
“Nim?” Lamorak walked to the edge of the camp, looking out into the shadows.
Brennis heard a splash, and then there was silence. He looked down at Lamorak’s feet, and saw the waves gently wash up against him.
Lamorak called out her name once more.
Lamorak and Locksley slept within the close confines of the pavilion; Vergil and Brennis—as the Squires—lay close to the fire’s warmth, while Geoffrey sat with his back against a tree wrapped in a bear rug. He slept with his longbow on his lap, an arrow notched, and three more arrows stabbed into the fresh ground around him. He slept fitfully, even though the horses had been hobbled and secured for the night and there’d been no sign of wolves.
Locksley woke up early, and stepping over Brennis and Vergil, slipped outside to escape the closeness of the pavilion. Maybe the woman leaving when she did was a good thing? He’d heard stories of Knights capturing fair young maidens, and a part of him wondered if that was what had happened. While his mother may have made up stories and tales of endless adventures, he knew the reality was different. If that woman somehow wandered into the Orkney camp she’d be raped and tossed to the side, probably left in a ditch with her throat slit.
Locksley paused to watch the sun brushing through the trees, the morning mist a visceral cloud playing with shadows and light in the trees. Sunlight mirrored against the water, the wind strumming across the face of the smaller ponds like a minstrel’s hand on a lute.
Locksley kicked Brennis to the side, and the youth rolled over, pulling the deer robe over himself. Locksley busied himself with the fire. He brought the embers back to life, blowing on them and coaxing them with a tease, touching the dried leaves and grasses he’d gathered until they stirred to life and burst into flame. He built the fire up like a funeral pyre to a king.
He heard a sound unlike anything he’d ever heard before and looked to the edge of the forest. There, magnified by both the light and the distance, two of the largest beasts he’d ever seen, surrounded by eight riders.