Winter's Blossom: The Seasons of Arthur

Chapter 42

As I waited there, in the cold hall of the old fort, I felt a fear such as I had never known on the battlefield and yet was surprisingly familiar. The uncertainty, and wondering what the worst would bring was an tight knot in the heavy pit of my stomach.

Around me the draught was cold. Peasants presumably jealously looked upon these great structures of the nobles, but they were nearly impossible to heat and there was a weird mix of thin smoke in the rafters and a chill breeze that seemed to cut through me. The room itself was bare walled but for the shields the adorned it, all differently patterned and I decided these were shields that Pellinore had captured in battle. Perhaps not just Pellinore I decided, as there was a very old Roman shield on the wall and I marvelled at its. A man must have been well protected behind that monstrosity I decided. Big shields and short swords I fondly remembered Ector's comforting growl about how the Romans conquering the world.

'Culhwch.' I jumped as I heard my name, and stiffly turned to see Pellinore advancing towards me. 'You should have sent word.' He admonished me lightly, embracing me carefully so as not to harm my wounds. 'I would have met you as you arrived. How are your wounds?'

'That is most gracious of you.' I said, feeling the courtesy heavy on my tongue and wondered that Pellinore must surely sense my unease. 'My wounds are healing.' I said simply, which was true to an extent. They were now thick stabs that Elaine no longer plugged with moss beneath my bandages, and admonished me most severely when I picked them. They still hurt like hell though, especially my leg and I wore no armour. In fact the only weapon I carried was Caliburn, conscious to appear the warrior of my repute. 'I've been admiring the shields.' I changed the subject, nodding my head towards his wall. 'Quite the collection.'

'A few trinkets, brought home from battle.' Pellinore tossed the compliment away, having quite seen through my stiff attempt of small talk. 'Now, laddie what brings you home.'

I hesitated, and the fear knotted my stomach even tighter so that it hurt more than my leg. I could feel my courage failing, and I realised that while I had spent the entirety of the last two days planning this conversation, I had never put any thought as to how I would open it. 'I wish,' I said, 'To express my gratitude at your hospitality while I was wounded.'

'Aye, I was told you'd been here.' Pellinore said easily. 'Elaine always was good with wounds; she takes after her mother that way. God knows, I gave them enough practice!' His laughter boomed out, echoing in the near empty room and I raised a dutiful smile in concert with him.

'She was very kind.' I nodded, and hesitated again. 'The... the thing is, my lord, I have grown a great affection for your daughter...' My words tripped and tumbled out of my mouth. Pellinore's laugh vanished, and instead he frowned at me, his eyes narrowing in a look that would freeze the fires of hell.

'Spit out what you're trying to say, boy.' He said, no cheerful laddie. I wasn't even a man now, and weirdly being called a boy helped steel my nerve as I felt my anger flare.

'I want to marry your daughter.' I said in a rush, and then faltered, realising that I'd made it sound like a demand and adjusted. 'I'd like to marry your daughter... if you'd let me... please?' I finished lamely.

Pellinore stared at me. His mouth pursed and his jawline seemed to tighten beneath his grey beard. His cold eyes narrowed as they fixed a fierce ice stare upon me. 'You know I like you, son.' He told me, his words at odds with his expression. 'But my daughter is matched with the heir of Goddodin.' He made to turn away, as if to spare me from further conversation.

I winced had winced at the name, the familiar guilt as painful as any of my wounds, but I swallowed and screwed up my courage. 'Agravaine is dead.' I pointed out.