Page 4 of The Road to Avalon
Still no Arthur. The doors stood invitingly open onto the sunlit courtyard, and the tinkling sound of running water carried on the morning air. Not for the first time, I wished I had some way of telling the time. What was it? Some nameless hour later than early morning, but not yet mid-morning, either. By the rumbling of my stomach, breakfast time, for sure.
But no breakfast in sight. Common sense took me to the kitchen.
Karstyn, hands on ample hips, was supervising the preparation of bread and cakes, a task being carried out by half a dozen young girls in floury aprons, who promptly seized the opportunity to cease work and gaze at me with their mouths hanging open. Karstyn clapped her hands at them, and, with a scurry, they all returned to work, heads down, but most with one eye still on me.
“Command suits you well,” I said. “Is there something for breakfast?”
Karstyn rounded on the nearest girl. “Cinnia, what’ve you done wi’ the Queen’s breakfast tray? Where’ve you left it, you lazy girl?”
What Karstyn lacked in height she more than made up for in intimidating width. The girl, a small, mousey thing of no more than thirteen or fourteen, with a pertly turned-up nose and a dimple in her chin, gaped up at her superior out of wide, frightened eyes. “Oh, mu’m, I did take it, but she were still in bed. I did peek in her door, but she were sleepin’ still, so I brung it back here. Mu’m.” She used the word ‘mu’m’ as a term of respect, not through any blood tie, but this was lost on Karstyn, who no doubt saw poor Cinnia’s failure to carry out her orders as a reflection on her own organizational skills.
“You foolish girl,” Karstyn snapped, clapping her pudgy hands again. “You should’a left it for Milady. An’ youdon’tgo peekin’ through doors at kings and queens. Not in their bedchamber nor nowhere. I’ve a mind to send you back to your mother for bein’ so silly. An’ no doubt she’ll give you a beatin’ for losin’ such a respected placing.”
By now I’d spotted the offending tray dumped on a table at the side of the room, so I held up my hand to stop this tirade. “Don’t worry, Karstyn. I’ll have it now, out in the courtyard beside the fountain. Nothing could be nicer.” I fixed the trembling Cinnia with a firm gaze. “You go and get it and bring it out to me. I shall enjoy eating outside this morning… in the sunshine.”
With a furtive glance at Karstyn, who she perhaps suspected might deal her a blow in passing, Cinnia edged over to the tray and picked it up. With her following, I led the way into the courtyard and across to the fountain, past beds of sweet-smelling roses and lavender bushes that badly needed weeding.
The lily-filled square pool had a wide edging of flat stone at the right height for seating, so I sat down. Cinnia, eyes cast down the better to study her sandaled feet, set the tray of bread rolls, butter, honey and figs, beside me. Then, hands fiddling with the hem of her floury apron, she began to edge away.
I called her back. “Don’t go. I have a fancy for some company while I eat.”
With great reluctance, and a few shifty glances back at the kitchen door, she hovered two paces from me, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Did she think I intended to berate her as well?
“Sit down, Cinnia,” I said, indicating the space on the wall on the far side of the tray.
With even more reluctance, she perched herself on the very edge, looking as though she might leap up and flee at any moment, like a wary bird.
“No need to be afraid,” I said, as I spread butter onto one of the rolls. “I won’t bite.” I added honey. “You’re new here since last time I visited. You’re just learning the rules, I should think.”
She nodded, still fiddling with her apron. The nails of her reddened fingers were bitten to the quick.
What a pretty little thing she was, with that elfin face, when she wasn’t looking so frightened. “Well, if Karstyn asks you to bring my breakfast tray to my room in the morning again– which I’m sure she will– just give a little knock on my bedroom door and call out to let me know you’re there, so I can come out and eat it.” I smiled again, intent on setting her at ease. “Sometimes I’m not so good at getting up in the mornings.”
She managed a return smile, her face lighting up. “If she do let me after today.”
I chuckled. “I shall tell her I’d prefer to have you bring it, then. How’s that?”
She nodded, her gaze going to where the fish swimming in the pool had seen us and come nosing their little round sucker mouths out of the water searching for food. I handed her one of the rolls. “Here, break it up small and give it to the fish. A bit at a time.”
She looked down at the roll, which was no doubt of far better quality than any bread she’d ever eaten herself. With a shrug of resignation at the apparent waste, she broke a small piece off for the fish. They fell on it like a shoal of piranhas in the Amazon jungle, and her laughter rose like music over the splash of the fountain. My heart warmed at the sound.
Movement by the doors from the atrium caught my eye. Amhar came striding into the courtyard, his cloak folded over one arm. He spotted me and headed my way. “Mother.” Again, he wasn’t looking so discontented, his smile giving him a hint of the handsome charm his father and older brother possessed in liberal quantities.
Cinnia peeped up at him, her gray eyes wide with a mixture of fear and admiration, as Amhar’s appreciative gaze slid over her. Color sprang to her pale cheeks.
I stood up. “Run along, Cinnia. I’ll be sure and speak with Karstyn about tomorrow.” I held out my arms to my son. “And where have you been? You might have left a message.” I didn’t need to warn him of his father’s ire. He lived in a perpetual state of disapproval where Arthur was concerned.
He gave me a hug and grinned, with something of his old enthusiasm. “I couldn’t stay stuck in here last night, Mother. Not with the city beckoning me.” He waved a hand in the general direction of the exterior of the house. “And what a night! I’ve not slept at all.”
Chuckling to himself, he sat down in Cinnia’s vacated seat and took one of my rolls, breaking it open and slathering on butter. “I’m starving. Karstyn fed me before I went out, and we found a tavern that did the most delicious pies. Bran said it was cat in them, or rat. I didn’t believe him. But that washoursago.” His strong white teeth bit into the bread. “Delicious, but not enough. I’ll go back to the kitchen in a moment.” He chuckled again, eyes alight with mischief. “And perhaps I’ll see that sweet little flower who was with you just now, if I’m lucky.”
“She’s too young for you,” I said, keeping my tone light. Nothing like being forbidden to do something to inspire a boy to do it.
I poured him a beaker of milk. “Drink this. It helps with the alcohol.” He certainly had the appearance of someone who’d drunk a lot but not yet reached the hungover stage.
He gulped down the milk and held the beaker out for more.
“Although best consumed before you go out rather than after,” I said, refilling it. “To line your stomach.”
