The Witch of Camelot

Eighteen.....fighting........

Eighteen….

The next morning I rose with the birds and woke Arthur full of excitement for what the day was to bring. He on the other hand was not optimistic in the slightest and hid beneath his blankets for a time pretending that he could not hear me and was still tired despite having had a long and fine night’s sleep.

                After a hurried breakfast we made our way to a wild meadow, surrounded by trees and a river to one side. It was a short distance from Camelot but in the opposite direction to the village meaning that it was secluded enough to allow us to practice in privacy and secrecy but also required little distance traveled each day. “I though you said Troilus would not be teaching us yet.” grumbled Arthur still irritated that we were going to start training so early. We were waiting for him in the meadow as agreed, if he had been seen leaving Camelot with two children each morning suspicions would have soon arisen.

                I shrugged, “I said it was unlikely not that it was impossible. The king ordered him to begin today and he is to have the afternoon with the new soldiers.”

                “What is he like anyhow?”

                “Huge and incredibly strong. He is a good man though his teaching methods will be intense.”

                “Intense? How?” Arthur sounded weary again.

                “Oh he’ll have us fighting one another straight away and he’ll never accept lateness or laziness weather you are royalty or not.” Before I could continue or Arthur could protest I spotted Troilus on the horizon. “There he is!” I exclaimed waving enthusiastically.

                Reaching us Troilus smiled laying down a variety of objects he had brought with him tied up in a leather bundle which had been strapped to his back. “Good day my new students.” he welcomed us heartily, being entrusted with the royal secret and being given the task of training the future King was the highest honour Uther could bestow on a man of his rank. Clearly Troilus was very proud and grateful as well as desperately hoping to prove himself worthy of the position.

                “Good morning.” I replied brightly.

                “Hello Nim, why aren’t I surprised that you insisted on coming?” he asked rhetorically with a wink. Turning to Arthur he inclined his head slightly and said in a rather more formal, reserved and quite tone, “and you must be Arthur, come all the way from Sir Ector’s estates.  I wish you welcome and a pleasant stay here.” if anybody had heard Troilus speaking to Arthur they would not have guessed he was Uther’s son and this was just what Troilus was aiming for. He needed to be correct in his attitude towards Arthur but not reveal anything of the truth as he did so. It was going to be a complicated few years, where the web of lies would grow ever more complex with increasing time. All these fragile, well hidden threads kept Arthur away from prying eyes and allowed Uther to continue to rule the kingdom without interruption from the illegitimate son that in the future some would have cause to want dead.

                “Yes Sir, yes I am.” Arthur replied quietly, a knot forming in his stomach about the prospect of what was to come next.

                As it happened, those first few mornings on which we trained with Troilus consisted of little more than our tutor discovering what we already knew. He checked our knowledge of the basic manoeuvres when handling the sword, bow and axe.

                We began at first with the bow, which I took pride in being quite accomplished with even at the age of eight.  Troilus expected no other from me and congratulated me accordingly, I was however surprised to discover that Arthur was also rather talented with its usage. He had lamented so much that I had been convinced he had no skill with any form off weapon but he showed himself to have rather a lot where my favourite was concerned.

                While we readied ourselves with our bows Troilus skirted the meadow, marking, in chalk, targets onto the trees there about which varied in distance from us. Once we were prepared and Troilus had returned to us Arthur and I began to shoot, first at one target and then the next comparing our success with friendly competition. As I watched him I noticed that Arthur tended to shoot to the left without realising it, but over time he became accustomed to compensating so that he would hit the bull’s eye on nine out of ten cases. Those that he did not were either by no fault of his own, or resulted in him hitting the target very close to the centre though not quite on it.

His skill was undeniable and I felt a surge of pleasure as I realised the pair of us would offer true competition for the other and that for this reason it was unlikely that we would ever grow bored from practicing together. My arrows were fletched with feathers of a darker colour than Arthur’s own walnut brown ones and therefore we could also tell at a glance who had more accurately hit the target. That first time we only shot at the three targets but as time advanced we progressed and in not a huge space of time we had gone from targets to real life prey. We had both hunted before of course but being but young then it had been a rare occasion with little reward, however within months of beginning our lessons with Troilus we had become quite expert and enjoyed bringing Merlin home a great deal more for the pot than Percy and I ever had.

                The pair of us had a happy morning in which Arthur quickly became more comfortable in the presence of Troilus and was pleased to discover that he was neither as hard nor as intense as I had foretold. Indeed I had only said so, so that Arthur would for certain be relived and not discouraged by Troilus’ attitudes towards us. Before long he was required back with the soldiers and Arthur and I were expected back with Merlin for the afternoon’s tuition to begin.