Balin and Columbine (A Children of the May Novella - Book 1.5b)

Chapter Seventeen: The Beauties at the Feast (part one)

From the moment he grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and dragged her onto his horse, Columbine had been able to see Sir Garlon in his suit of magical armour. She had struggled and struggled with him, but he had brought his fist down on the back of her head and knocked her out. When she woke, she had found herself tied, gagged and bundled over the back of his horse, looking at the speeding ground.

As they galloped into Castle Spar-Longius her legs collided with a gate-guard who stood too close to the invisible horse. From the stables, Garlon dragged her up to his large chamber in one of the castle’s three rotating towers, where he locked the door and threw her in a chair, still bound. He disappeared from her sight as he let go of her, only to reappear as he removed his helmet, breaking the armour’s invisibility spell. When the armour was visible it had a blueish hue, but did not look much different from an ordinary suit of plate metal.

Sir Garlon had hardly changed since she had last seen him, back when Lily refused his offer of marriage for the final time. He had the same hard face that suggested he had shed much blood, not a huge amount of it his own. The only real differences were the streaks of grey in his black hair.

He took off his gloves and removed her gag. She spat at him as soon as she was able. Garlon laughed, took the edge of the pigeon cloak, and wiped her sputum from his breastplate.

‘Columbine of Vellion,’ he said with an easy smile, ‘I hear you want me dead.’

‘I do.’

‘And also that you went all the way to Camelot to recruit a champion for the task.’

‘I went to ask the king of Britain’s permission for vengeance, that’s all. I said I’d do it myself. If you let my hands free I’ll do it right now.’

‘That’s not what I heard, about you doing it on your own. They’re talking about a strange sword.’ He nodded at her rapier. ‘Not that one, I suppose, but the one you dropped in the forest. The one that cut through my blade.’

She looked at her belt and realised she was no longer wearing the Dolorous Stroke. Her head still throbbed a little from his blow, and she couldn’t remember the sequence of events after the brief fight in the woods. She saw a flash of her hand releasing the bone handle of the Dolorous Stroke as Garlon grabbed her, but couldn’t tell if that had really happened, or if her disordered brain had invented it.

Garlon unlaced his magical armour with great ceremony. As he removed each section he wiped it carefully, and then placed it in a heavy chest by his bed. Garlon was legendary for being the knight whose squire did not help him with his armour. Instead his man guarded this chest night and day – the Knight Invisible was too protective of his suit to allow anyone else to so much as touch a shoulder-plate.

‘I would like to see you try to kill me,’ he said when he had put on his robe. He locked the chest with three heavy padlocks, and moved to a chair opposite. He poured himself a goblet of wine. ‘A drink, my dear?’

She shook her head. She wouldn’t accept anything from him.

‘Fair enough,’ he said. ‘Deprive yourself.’ He crossed one leg over the other. ‘Let us see if we can untangle this misunderstanding, shall we?’

‘I’d rather slice through it like the Gordian knot.’

‘Ha! Goodness me, I do not remember you being this fiery in your uncle’s home. Though I only had eyes for your cousin back then, it’s true. I enjoy this side of you.’

‘Don’t mention her again.’

‘Pardon me, Columbine?’

‘You heard.’