Chosen

Chapter 12 of "A Sword for Wellington", Book Three of The Môrdreigiau Chronicles

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Note: Source headings make a return in this chapter and you’ll see a lot of them going forward, indicating whether I’ve transcribed from Eidothea’s journal or the novel, etc etc.

The story began in A Grail for Eidothea and continued with A River Trembles. Now the Chosen Court seeks another Arthurian treasure. New here? Save this post and have a binge read. You deserve it.

Lady Meredith’s fortune-telling gift was revealed. She saw something terrible. Napoleon has escaped Elba. Hugh believes this is impossible, but shortly after they get the news that Napoleon is loose and once again Europe is on the brink of war. This renewed Gwenddydd’s need to complete her mission of giving Caledfwlch to the Duke of Wellington.

Ondine found being Above Sea quite the novelty. Cychwr wanted to share it with her, so I suggested they explore the port.

Jasper begged off also. “The lady might remember me. It would not do to put us at a further disadvantage.”

I raised my brows. “What did you do?”

His grin flashed. “I asked too many questions.”

Our hired carriage rattled along the gravel drive and halted before Craiglyn House.

I descended from the carriage, accepting Llyr’s assistance. His hand felt warm and strong in mine. He released me almost at once. Another carriage already stood in the drive, with trunks loaded behind and on its roof. “Is someone visiting, or is someone leaving?” I mused aloud.

Father descended last. “I was very circumspect in my letters. They should not be expecting us.”

The large front doors stood open. We scrambled out of the way to avoid servants carrying out another trunk.

“The lady of the house,” I asked. “Is she in?”

The footman paused on the steps. “Yes, but she’s not receiving, miss. They’re leaving within the hour.”

“Please tell her Mr. Gerald Pendyr and his daughter Miss Eidothea Pendyr are here. We will not take up too much of her time. We have come a long way.”

The footman surveyed me and our hired carriage behind us with a critical air. We had left our luggage at an inn near the docks. He disappeared into the house and soon returned. “Come this way.”

We entered, stepping into a wide hall with two staircases winding up either side of the wall in perfect symmetry. The oak-panelled walls glowed in the morning light. Dust sheets had already been thrown over the few chairs in the space.

In the vestibule stood an older woman. She dressed in the height of fashion with a warm stole about her neck. Her brown hair had begun to turn while. She spoke with much younger gentleman with a stomach-turning scar creasing his face. She turned upon our entrance.

“Gerald Pendyr?” The woman’s alto voice carried a note of surprise. “What on earth possessed you to come here? And with a daughter?” Her tone turned severe. “She looks too old to need a mother.”

My father blushed—blushed!—and sketched a bow. “Madam, it seems we have arrived at a most inconvenient time. We shall not tarry, but may we have a few words with you?”

Her dark eyebrows rose. “Mr. Pendyr, you long ago lost the right to make such a request.”

“Please, Lady Meredith.” I stepped forward. Whatever had gone on between her and my father had been of more consequence than he had let on. I could not allow it to wreck our chances of finding the sword. I noted her curious gaze land upon my eyepatch. “It will not take lo—”

Her gaze had moved onward, choosing not to find fault with my blemished exterior. She took in Llyr. Even conventionally attired, Llyr had an unearthly quality to him. He’d refused to do anything with his long black hair and tied it back in a long queue at the nape of his neck, braids and all. But his golden eyes had caught Lady Meredith’s attention.

I sought to distract her. “I have no need of a mother, as you noted,” I continued. “We will ask one or two questions and shall be gone.”

“One or two questions lead to three or four more,” said the dark-haired man who accompanied her.

A red-haired woman clad in a simple gown walked in and froze at the sight of us. She carried a long thin box.

“Your son?” Father asked.

“My aunt is not required to answer your questions,” replied the man. His sweeping gaze dismissed us and caught at the sight of the red-haired woman. “If you will please excuse us, we are preparing to leave.”

We could not fail. I squared my shoulders. “I will tell you a secret in exchange for the chance to ask a question.”

The scarred man snorted, twirling his walking stick. Lady Meredith turned back to him, her dismissal plain.

“By the Lady!” I burst out. “We require only a moment.”

Lady Meredith froze. She swivelled, her gaze flicking to her two companions. “I haven’t heard that outside my—” She paused. “Will you step into the drawing room? Carter,” she called to a passing footman, “is there any chance of tea?”

We all made to follow her. She looked over her shoulder at us. “Just the Pendyrs. You, sirrah, can wait out here. Sir Hugh, if you would join us?”

Once in the drawing room, a space far grander than any parlour I’d been in, I began, not waiting for the tea. “I will not waste your time with pleasantries. How well do you know the stories of King Arthur?”

“We do not have the grail.” Lady Meredith rose. “Many have asked,” she added by way of apology. “You are wasting your time and mine.”

I managed a thin smile and gave her a secret. “Of course you do not have it. I do.” I felt glad Llyr had left the greal safe with his mother.

Lady Meredith sank back down onto the sofa. I had piqued her curiosity. “Let me ask you a question in return: who do you mean when you say “By the Lady?”

“I am certain ‘Our Lord’s Mother’ should be the appropriate answer, but it would not be correct,” I replied. “I referred to the Goddess Morg—”

“Hush, child! Speak not her name. I thought you were one of us but even our newest member would not be so foolish as to speak Her Name.” I heard the capitals in her words.

“Newest member?” Father enquired.

“It is none of your business.” Sir Hugh bristled. “You have asked your question, Miss Pendyr.” He stood. “Aunt, if we are to catch the tide…”

“That will not be until this afternoon,” Father interjected. “We just arrived in Caldicot via boat.”

“We heard the Lady is worshipped here too,” I forged on. “We hoped She is the one I and my kin worship. Would you have an idea of where we could find Arthur’s sword?”

Both Lady Meredith and Sir Hugh froze. He quickly covered his error with a cough into his hand.

Lady Meredith picked at her gown’s embroidery, refusing to meet my eyes. “The sword in the stone? That’s a fairy tale, dear.”

“Yes, it probably is,” I agreed.

“A colleague of mine,” Father interposed, “thought that your worshippers were waiting for something—or someone—to return.”

Lady Meredith lifted her head and raised an eyebrow. “Fascinating.” A chill entered her voice. “But I am afraid we cannot help you.”

I frowned. Were the Tregallas notes wrong or outdated? “Cannot or will not?”

“Eidothea.” Father’s hand rested upon my shoulder. “Forgive my daughter’s rudeness. I must admit I have used her latest obsession—”

“Father!” I protested, startled by his words. My own father thought so?

“—her latest obsession,” he continued with a sigh of fatigued patience, “to renew our acquaintance.”

“You have both come on hopeless quests.” Lady Meredith rose. “I am not interested, Gerald Pendyr, and we do not have the sword. Now if you will excuse us?”

I lingered in the hall, keeping a careful eye on the servants and the young red-haired woman. She drifted toward the staircase. A rough-cut stone nestled in the hollow of her throat on the end of a braided leather necklace. The jewel glinted in the dim light. Something about the necklace seemed oddly familiar and yet it looked archaic.

“You are staring,” the woman said. “I am certain that is not polite.”

“Is it not?” I drew closer. Her body stiffened, her gaze grew wary. I held up a placating hand. “I won’t harm you. I’d like to talk.”

“Talk?” The woman’s fingertips brushed the stone at her neck.

“That stone is unusual.” I edged closer. “Are they common here? I’ve only seen these in one other place before.” I’d seen them amongst the jewels in Caer Morgana’s treasury.

“Like this?” The woman covered the stone with her hand. “That is not possible.”

I tilted my head to one side. “Why?”

“Because—” The woman edged away. “I cannot tell you.” The necklace fell from her neck into her hand. She said words so vile that it took me a moment to realise she hadn’t said them in English.

“This sounds like a very old language.” The foreign words tasted like iron on my tongue.

She stopped trying to refasten her necklace about her neck, her eyes widening. “Nobody speaks that any more! Or so I was told. How do you—”

The scarred man strode from the drawing room. “Stuff and nonsense!” he grumbled as a parting salvo to Eidothea. I wanted to hit him. His gaze caught the woman and I in conversation. “Gwen, get our coats. We are leaving.”

He grabbed the woman called Gwen by the arm and hustled her out a side door, but not before she’d reclaimed the long thin box she’d been carrying, clutching it to her chest.

“But—” Gwen looked back at me, her eyes still wide with wonder.

Sir Hugh strode out first. Manners obliged us to follow. In the vestibule, Llyr fell into step beside me. We stepped out into the overcast day.

Llyr had felt my disappointment and frustration. “No luck?”

I wanted to cry. “None. Documents in the Tregallas library hinted at Wells. Then we try the Bodleian at Oxford, and—” I bit my lip.

Llyr’s arm went about my shoulders. I leaned against him, wanting his comfort. I ignored my father’s coughs. Llyr shifted, looking over my shoulder. “Mr. Pendyr, find out where they are going.”

I pulled back, blinking at him, still encircled in his arms. “Why?”

Llyr grinned. “The woman with red hair. She speaks a dead language, wears a jewel that belongs in Caer Morgana, and that man hustled her out of my sight. I’m certain that’s a sword in the box she carries.”

I blinked at him. “But how do you know?”

“She’s the last woman to hold the sword in my vision. It has to be her.”

The way he phrased it made me frown. “Has to be, or is?”

“You doubt your prophet?” A frown marred Llyr’s beautiful forehead. Through our bond, his confidence wavered.

I gave my head a little shake. “It’s not that. You did not sound sure.“

“It’s her.” This time he sounded certain.

I frowned at him. “Then why do we follow? Why not speak with her now?”

I pulled out of his embrace and strode back to the house. I entered the hall to find them in the process of donning their coats and cloaks.

“Miss Pendyr, what is the meaning of this?” Lady Meredith demanded. She stood a head taller than I, and her tall bonnet gave her additional height. Her nephew moved to stand between the two women and I.

“I might not belong to your cult, Lady Meredith, but I do have a calling, one from the Lady herself.” I turned my attention to the red-haired woman. I spotted the long box on a narrow table near her. “Is that Caledfwlch?”

The auburn-haired woman startled, her skin paling beneath her plenitude of freckles. She blocked my view of the box. “It is not for you,” she said. Her entire body tensed.

“Gwen,” growled Sir Hugh. Lady Meredith bit her lip.

Something held me back from arguing. “How do you know? Who is it for?”

“Gwen,” Sir Hugh whispered in warning. He laid a hand upon her shoulder.

The woman glanced sidelong at him, giving him a long, considering gaze. After a moment, her head bowed in agreement. She folded her arms, fixing me with a glare.

I surveyed their mute wall of opposition. “I know I am a stranger to you and do not expect to be believed, but I spoke in truth when I said I am chosen by the Lady.”

“Chosen?” Lady Meredith breathed, the sound echoing in the large hall.

Sir Hugh’s jaw tightened, along with his grip upon his walking stick. “Enough of this.”

I shook my head. “My prophet has seen a sword in his dream, rising from the lake, passing from woman to woman to this woman.” I pointed at the one called Gwen.

“You are quite insane,” stated Sir Hugh.

“Allow my friends and I to travel with you. Let me convince you that my quest is divine. I agree the sword is priceless. Of course you cannot just hand it over to a complete stranger.”

“Enough, Miss Pendyr,” Sir Hugh snapped. “Now please excuse us, we must be on our way.”

I curtseyed, taking the time to survey them. Sir Hugh glowered at me, his fierce gaze rendered more horrible by the scar that marred half his face. The auburn-haired woman matched his glare and for a moment I considered her the more dangerous of the two, before discarding that idea as preposterous. Lady Meredith frowned, looking between her two companions and myself.

Returning to the carriage, I settled into a seat next to my father.

“Well?” prompted Llyr, seated across from me.

“You saw right,” I replied. “Father, did you find out where they are headed?”

“Brussels. The allies are gathering there to support King Louis.”

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