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I had read my history books. The Pendragon line was not full of models of virtue. The queens and kings of old had been wrathful and cruel. Their good qualities had mixed with their bad until there was little distinction between what made a good ruler and a bad one.
When I was younger, I had hoped Arthur would steady out as he matured, with careful guidance and instruction. But he had chosen the worst possible counselors. Ones who honed and encouraged his vices rather than his virtues.
Would I have turned out the same way if I had become queen?
I drained the rest of the glass of medicine then looked at the plate of food. My stomach was already queasy, but I knew I should eat. I picked up some slices of apple and nibbled them as I crossed back over to the bed and threw myself upon it.
The queasiness was one thing. But what was worse was the pain in my head that set in as the medicine did its work. Every second day I had to deal with this affliction. A throbbing pain in my temples and behind my eyes that sometimes left me in so much agony that I was unable to do much besides sleep.
But tonight I was determined to do more. I have a small rebellion planned.
I finished the apple slices then closed my eyes resolutely, willing my body to briefly rest.
For tonight I would join the hunt.
The underground passagebeneath the castle keep was dimly lit by torches mounted on the walls which cast shadows across the rough-hewn stone. The air was cool and damp, and the musty scent of earth and stone filled my nostrils. As I made my way through the winding passage, I could hear the sound of dripping water echoing somewhere in the distance.
After several twists and turns, the passage began to slope downwards. I descended a set of steep stairs carved into the rock. At the bottom, the tunnel leveled out. I could see a faint light in the distance, beckoning me forward.
I stepped towards the end of the passage. A narrow opening in the wall led out into a dark, wooded area beyond. Moonlight filtered through the trees, casting a pale glow over the forest floor.
I paused for a moment to make sure every strand of my gray hair was tucked beneath my black hood, then lifted my bow, and slipped out through the gap. My dark leathers scraped slightly against the cold stone as I squeezed through.
Stepping into the open air, I could feel a cool breeze on my skin. Leaves rustled and crunched underfoot.
My head was throbbing, but it was a dull pain. I could keep it in the background if I focused. The cool night air was refreshing against my skin, lessening the pain a little.
I turned around to look at the passageway, reassuring myself I could find my way back. The tunnel entrance was concealed by overhanging branches. To someone who didn’t know where to look, it was nearly invisible.
My heart was pounding with anticipation. I might not be a prisoner in the castle, but there was still a sense of freedom and exhilaration at slipping away in the dead of night.
I walked towards the designated meeting place, keeping a careful eye out for danger.
There was a brief moment where I thought I heard the sound of a snapping twig, but when I turned and waited and listened, there was no one there. The forest was quiet.
I assumed it was a rabbit or a fox and continued on my way.
By the time I spotted the group of other hunters, the moon was high in the sky, casting an ethereal light over the ancient forest that surrounded us.
I hid a grin as I approached the group. They were an odd assortment but I felt lucky to have been permitted to join them. They had no idea who I really was, but still, I was a stranger in their midst and they’d trusted me enough to give me the correct meeting place.
Rough-looking men and women armed with spears, knives, and bows were gathered together talking in low voices. I stole a glance at my own weapon. It gleamed in the moonlight, while the others’ weapons were scuffed and worn from hard use. I scowled a little and hoped they wouldn't notice. This was only my second time meeting with the group. I wanted to blend in.
The leader, a grizzled man named Baudwin with a long black beard, reminded me a little of Sir Ector. He nodded to me as I took my place. I kept my head down as he spoke quickly, reminding us of the plan for the night.
A woman stepped forward; her russet hair was drawn back into a knot. She looked like any number of middle-aged mothers I’d seen in the marketplace. Was she there to feed her own family? Or to help others?
Quietly, she began to say a prayer to one of the Three. I had not realized the group was devout.
“Great Devina, goddess of the hunt, hear our prayer. Grant to us the cunning of the wolf, the swiftness of the deer, and the strength of the bear. May your light guide us through the darkness and your wisdom aid us in the hunt. Watch over our blades so that they may strike true. Allow us to honor you with our prowess, O Devina. Lady of the moon, protect us and lead us safely home. So may it be.”
“So may it be,” we all echoed.
I heard the man next to me muttering to himself, promising Devina a share of the spoils of his catch if she aided him tonight.
I hoisted my bow and quiver, and that’s when I saw him.
He stood at a slight angle, almost hidden near some trees. He had obviously been waiting for the right time to approach. His small frame made him seem younger than he is.
