Page 18 of The Dragon Ring
The honey was runny and sweet, and the porridge tasted of nutty grains with more flavor than any modern instant porridge could ever have had. I sat down on the bench by the table in my undershirt and ate it, scraping the bowl to get all the bits. Cottia beamed.
“That was delicious,” I said, standing up again. “The best porridge I ever tasted. Thanks. But I’m also really thirsty, and I’ve a terrible headache. D’you have any water?”
Cottia, who, hands on hips, had been watching me eat in a proprietorial fashion, had a second reason to look shocked.
“Water?” she exclaimed, “Be ye a horse? D’ye want to get sick? We’ve small ale. I’ll fetch ye some from the Hall.” She paused, “But ye wait ’ere. Ye’ll not be wanting to be seen dressed like ye are now. D’ye understand me?”
I nodded. The need for something to drink conquered my determination not to be dressed up like a prospective princess once again. While Cottia went out into the Hall, I took another look round at the bedchamber.
Last night I’d been too shocked and tired to take everything in. But now the historian lurking within my soul took over. The room was roughly square with three heavy wooden doors, all with ornately worked metal hinges and simple latches. On two sides of the room, pairs of wooden window shutters were set into the walls, closed now against the cold, although draughts of air seeped in to stir the cobwebs in the rafters above my head.
The meagre light illuminated the interior only gloomily. It allowed me to see there was a second, smaller chest, and a rack where several spears, along with a bow and arrows, were stored. On the wall between the window shutters a round shield hung, white with the image of a black bear rearing up on its hind legs painted across it. When I took a closer look at the flaking paintwork, I found the surface was chipped and pockmarked from what must have been many blows. The shield of a warrior.
Before I had chance to open the shutters and see the view, Cottia returned. She had a big jug in one hand and in the other, a goblet. She set these on the table. The weak ale tasted good as I gulped it down, but I doubted it would do much for my headache, and no one here would have any headache pills.
“D’you know what time it is?” I asked, before realizing that where I was now, numerical time as I knew it most likely didn’t count.
“Morning,” said Cottia, not very informatively. “Time to be up and about. But not dressed like that. Ye’re to wed my Arthur, so ye need to look yer best.”
Her Arthur. Hers as well as Merlin’s. It seemed like several people felt proprietorial toward his person.
I wanted to question several things in that pronouncement. I went for the most obvious first, dodging the subject of my clothing as she helped me out of it.
“Where exactly is Arthur? If this is his fortress, why isn’t he here?”
Cottia picked up a russet colored woolen tunic from the pile she’d brought the night before. “This be a military fortress. Six days ago ’e ’ad word there were unrest to the south, along the coast. ’E took ’is warband to sort it. They should be back soon.” There was an unmistakable edge of anxiety in her voice. More than the worry of a serving woman for her lord. I seized upon it.
“You’re worried about him. And you called him ‘my Arthur’. What’s he to you? Are you his mother?” It was the only thing I could think she might be, although why she should be serving me if she was, I had no idea.
She put the tunic on over my head, tutting loudly, but I couldn’t see her face to read her expression. “Lordy, no. Eigr the Cornish woman be ’is mother. I were there when ’e were born, and then became ’is wetnurse after me own boy up an’ died, and after that ’is nursemaid when ’e were a littlun.” She straightened out the folds of my new tunic, which reached mid-calf.
“My ’usband died in battle the year afore, and my girls was growed and I ’ad no more babbies of me own. I might not ’ave birthed ’im, but ’e felt like ’e were mine, all right. Then when little Arthur were no more’n three-year-old, I met my second ’usband at the Council o’ Kings and ’e brought me down ’ere, bein’ ’e were Dumnonian born an’ bred. ’Twas when Prince Geraint ruled ’ere.” She smiled at a memory.
“I were right pleased when my boy turned up ’ere a good few years after that, almost a man grown. Geraint’d bin killed at Llongborth, and Arthur were sent to rule in ’is stead. ’E’s like my own. I worry for ’im as a mother does ’er son.” She tutted again. “Which is more than ’is own mother do.”
My ears pricked. Was that just jealousy speaking, or was it the truth? “Where is his mother?”
She tutted again as she handed me my clean panties.
“I couldn’t put that dress on again,” I explained. “I wanted to take a look around the fortress. Can I do that?”
“Not dressed like a lad.” She was kneeling down now, rolling the same stockings as last night onto my feet. I bent down and pulled them up over my knees.
A darker over tunic a bit like a tabard went on next, then my walking boots, which Cottia eyed with open admiration.
“They’re fine workmanship,” she said. “Where’d ye get ’em?”
I couldn’t tell her from the giant Sports Direct store not far from where I lived. I thought for a moment, and then resorted to my earlier answer.
“Gaul.”
That was going to have to be my default retort to a lot of things. I was banking on none of them ever having been there. Maybe if they had, I’d have to go further afield, and say Rome. Surely none of them would have travelled that far.
“Yer other clothes ’re still dryin’ by my fire,” she said, standing back to admire the effect. “And now yer ’air.”
Ten minutes later, having had the decidedly odd experience of cleaning my teeth with a frayed twig and a paste made of powdered charcoal and mint leaves, and with my face and hands washed and my hair brushed and plaited afresh, I emerged into the Great Hall once again, a thick fur-lined cloak around my shoulders.
Winter sunlight streamed into the empty Hall through the open double doors at the far end, and in the hearth, the remains of the fire from the night before smoldered and glowed. The tables had been pushed back to the sides again, and the Hall felt bigger than when it had been thronged with people. I walked down the wide aisle and out of the doors.
