Crown of Dreams (2 page)

R
hianna fidgeted on the hard bench, fiddling with the ugly black pendant her mother had insisted she wear today in honour of her father’s memory.

As princess of Camelot, she’d been given
a seat at the front, below the round window with its dragon design where Queen Guinevere had been kneeling for ages in a pool of red and gold autumn sunlight. The chapel was full, and in the hush she could hear people shifting their feet and coughing behind her.

She scowled at her mother’s back, wishing she could go riding in the woods instead. It was exactly one year since her cousin Mordred had killed her father on the battlefield at Camlann and Merlin had brought the king’s body through the mists to Avalon.

A
whole year
since she’d learned she was King Arthur’s daughter, and she still hadn’t completed her quest!

She swung her feet in their embroidered slippers in an effort to keep warm and wished she’d worn her boots instead. Her father
wouldn’t care if they looked silly with her dress.

The queen wore a simple blue gown with no jewellery. Copper hair, the same colour as Rhianna’s, flowed loose around her shoulders. She was sobbing softly, which did strange things to Rhianna’s insides. She felt embarrassed that her mother could cry before all these people. Then she felt guilty because she couldn’t find any tears herself.

“My father’s
not
dead,” she muttered, touching his sword, Excalibur, which was lying on the bench beside her. “I’ve told you a hundred times! He’s going to return to Camelot, just as soon as you let me out of here so I can look for the last two Lights and complete my quest…”

A touch on her shoulder made her jump. At first she thought it was her father’s ghost, since he often appeared when she got upset. But it was
just her friend Elphin, who had ridden through the mists with her from Avalon last year.

The Avalonian prince’s eyes glowed violet as he leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “Let your mother pray for him if it makes her feel better,” he said. “Then she’ll be all the happier when we wake King Arthur and bring him back from Avalon, won’t she?”

“
If
we ever manage to wake him! It’s been a year, Elphin… a whole year!”

“A year in which you’ve won the Sword of Light from the Lady of the Lake, fought off a shadrake from Annwn, mended the Lance of Truth, rescued your mother from Mordred’s dark tower, and been named heiress of Camelot.” Elphin’s lips twitched. “Father’s right, you humans are much too impatient sometimes.”

“That’s because we haven’t got as long to
live as you Avalonians,” Rhianna said. But she smiled, too. Her friend was right. Though things at Camelot weren’t as good as they might have been if Mordred hadn’t killed her father, they were a lot better now than before she and Elphin had ridden through the mists.

“Don’t worry,” Elphin whispered, still teasing her. “I won’t let Mordred kill you before you finish your quest.”

“
I
won’t let him kill me, you mean,” Rhianna said. “I’ve got Excalibur, remember? But it’ll be winter again soon, and the knights are hardly going to let us ride out on a quest to Dragonland in the middle of a snowstorm, are they? You saw how much snow there was last year. I think they’re delaying so they’ll have an excuse to stop me going.”

Her voice had risen. “Shh!” Elphin said,
giving her shoulder a warning squeeze. “Your mother’s looking at us.”

The queen had finally stopped praying and turned to face the congregation. She frowned as she waited for Rhianna and Elphin to stop talking.

She cleared her throat and said, “Today we remember my lord Arthur Pendragon, who was slain by the traitor Prince Mordred on this day one year ago. Since the king cannot be with us in body, we’ll honour his spirit, which still lives in his sword, Excalibur.” She beckoned to Rhianna.

“Here we go,” Rhianna muttered.

With a resigned sigh, she drew the Sword of Light from its red scabbard, which she wore at her left hip these days so she could draw the sword right-handed according to knightly code.
Feeling a bit self conscious, she went to stand beside her mother. She rested the point of the blade in the circle on the floor, where the squires would kneel to do their vigil before they became knights, and laid her hands on the white jewel set into Excalibur’s hilt. The jewel warmed under her touch and began to shine faintly.

One by one, the knights walked up the aisle to kneel before Excalibur and renew their vows to their Pendragon. Sir Lancelot led them, his silver hair splashed with colour from the dragon window. He glanced up at the queen as he kissed the sword’s hilt, and Rhianna saw her mother blush. “May King Arthur’s spirit live forever!” he said loudly, before returning to his seat.

Sir Bors and Sir Agravaine were next, followed by the young knight, Sir Bedivere,
whom everyone called ‘Soft Hands’. Sir Bedivere winked at her and smiled in sympathy. “Soon be over, Damsel Rhianna,” he whispered.

The ceremony went on and on. Rhianna’s feet turned into little blocks of ice, and her arms ached with holding the blade still so that it wouldn’t cut anyone. In battle, Excalibur’s magic always made her feel stronger. But today, she could feel something working against the power of the sword.

She remembered feeling like this when she’d held its blade to Mordred’s throat in the summer, and had a sudden sense of being watched. She peered suspiciously into the shadows at the back of the chapel and thought she saw a dark figure standing by the door.

“Come on, child,” the priest said gently. “There are still a lot of people waiting.”

Rhianna blinked and the figure vanished. She was being silly. Mordred would not dare come into Camelot’s chapel alone, not after being captured and thrown into the dungeon the last time he was here.

Cai, the squire who had been with the knights sent to meet her when she rode through the mists from Avalon, was next in line. He had grown taller over the past few months, which made him seem less plump. Since she’d knighted him in the summer so he could be her champion and carry the Lance of Truth, Cai should really have come up first with Sir Lancelot, not last with the squires. But she was glad to see her friend’s cheeky grin.

As the boy knelt, a draught flattened the candle flames and the air chilled. Before he could kiss Excalibur’s jewel, the doors of
the chapel suddenly blew open with a crash, making everyone jump.

Some of the damsels sitting at the back screamed. As people looked round to see who had interrupted the service, a girl with wild black hair covering her face came running up the aisle and launched herself at Rhianna.

Startled, Rhianna took a step back and lifted Excalibur. Then she recognised her maid Arianrhod and quickly lowered the sword, confused.

“Oi, witch’s maid, watch it!” Before Arianrhod could attack Rhianna again, an older squire called Gareth grabbed the girl’s hair and pushed her into the crowd. Arianrhod stumbled over a bench and fell to the floor beneath it, writhing and whimpering.

People crossed themselves. Cai tried to help
the girl. But everyone had crowded round to see what was wrong, and he couldn’t get through.

The knights pushed through the crowd and picked the fallen bench off Arianrhod. “Get back!” Sir Bors bellowed. “Give the poor girl some air.”

“Never mind air,” a woman muttered. “It’s fire that one wants. I always said you can’t trust an ex-maid of Morgan Le Fay’s. Keep her away from our princess, that’s what I say!”

“Yeah,” another agreed. “She just tried to kill Princess Rhianna.”

“Nonsense,” Sir Bedivere said, kneeling beside Arianrhod and catching her flailing wrists. “The noise scared her and she tripped, that’s all. I think she’s ill. Someone fetch Lady Isabel from the Damsel Tower.”

“She was perfectly all right this morning,” the first woman pointed out. “That wind wasn’t natural, if you ask me – did you see that shadow flee out the door?”

People nodded and began to mutter about witchcraft.

Rhianna had heard enough.

She jumped on to the front bench. “Don’t be so STUPID!” she shouted. Her voice, loud enough to be heard across a battlefield, echoed around the chapel. Excalibur’s white jewel blazed in response.

Everyone stared at her, startled into silence.

“Arianrhod won’t hurt me,” Rhianna continued. “She’s my friend! Let me through.”

The queen frowned at her. “Get down from there, darling. This isn’t the time or the place for battle stunts…”

Seeing that it would be the fastest way through the crowd, Rhianna had already kicked off her slippers and was leaping barefoot from bench to bench. She dropped beside Sir Bedivere, laid Excalibur down and knelt to comfort her friend.

Arianrhod clutched at Rhianna’s dress, struggling to free herself from Sir Bedivere’s grip.

The knight gave her a worried smile. “I daren’t let go of her while she’s like this, or she’ll hurt herself,” he said softly. “I think she might have hit her head when she tripped. We have to get her out of the chapel. There are too many people here.”

“Maybe the priest can calm her down?” Sir Agravaine suggested.

Rhianna tried to catch Arianrhod’s ankles,
but her friend’s foot thumped into her cheek.

“Leave her to the knights, darling!” called the queen. “You’ll get hurt.”

Just as Rhianna wondered if she would get more bruises from her maid than she’d had from her enemies, otherworldly music tinkled around the chapel, making everyone smile. Elphin stood in the doorway, haloed by golden autumn sunshine. He had fetched his Avalonian harp, which he continued to play as he clambered over the benches to join them.

He looked down at Arianrhod. “
Sleep now
,” he sang, magic in his voice. “
Sleep
.”

The girl’s eyes closed, and she sank back to the floor. Sir Bedivere picked her up. The crowd sighed in relief.

Rhianna smoothed her dress and retrieved
Excalibur. “Take her up to my room,” she ordered in a shaky voice.

Sir Bors shook his head. “I’m not sure that’s the best idea, Damsel Rhianna.”

“What’s wrong? She’s my maid. She’s always in there, anyway. What’s she going to do? Put a spell on me?”

The knights looked doubtfully at Arianrhod, who hung limply now in Sir Bedivere’s arms, her dark hair trailing to the floor. The squires and damsels whispered uneasily. The priest looked uneasy, too. The queen didn’t seem to know what to do.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake!” Rhianna said. “Sir Bedivere can carry her up there. I give him permission. You’re not going to attack any of the damsels, are you Sir Bedivere?”

The girls giggled as ‘Soft Hands’ blushed.
“No, Princess Rhianna,” he said.

“Well then, that’s settled. Put her in my bed. I’ll be up to check on her as soon as we’ve finished my father’s prayers.”

This seemed to do the trick. People stopped muttering about witchcraft and remembered they were supposed to be praying for their king’s soul.

The queen pulled herself together. “Rhianna’s right. We can’t let an attention-seeking maid disrupt my husband’s service. Let’s put this unfortunate interruption behind us. Who’s next?”

The knights righted the benches, and everyone returned to their seats so the priest could bless them. Rhianna barely heard a word he said. She kept thinking of that dark figure she’d seen, before the doors had crashed
open and Arianrhod attacked her.

Behind her, Elphin cradled his harp in his lap, a six-fingered hand resting across the strings to keep them quiet. He touched her shoulder. “Are you all right, Rhia?”

She nodded. “I think so.” She raised a hand to feel her cheek where Arianrhod had kicked her, and realised that sometime during the struggle she’d lost her father’s black pendant.