MORGANA

It was quiet in the forest and the air crackled with heat. Morgana wished she could stay. She sat cross-legged on a rock, enjoying the freedom of trousers and a green cotton shirt. Her borrowed-without-permission sword lay across her lap, its fuller soaking up the thin sunlight. The grip was leather: simple and unadorned. The sword had a nice weight and she felt powerful with it in her hands.

It was silly to pretend to be a knight. She was a woman and the first lady of Camelot; and she belonged in the realm of dresses, curtsies and smiles, needlework and dancing. It wasn't fair. Why should she marry someone she'd never met? Someone who would relegate her to pretty-wall-fixture, who would lay fabrics at her feet and expect her love and loyalty? Morgana wanted, more than anything, to be an equal. She used to beat Arthur when they were younger – before he had proper knights training. All she needed was some more practice. She'd grown soft walking the castle halls and sitting beside Uther. But somehow she doubted her future husband would like her to duel with him. Especially if she beat him – she knew she could.

Arthur and Merlin had left for the coast a week ago to take a ship across the channel to the Frank-held lands. There was the looming threat of a Saxon invasion; King Hengist was amassing an army. Camelot's scouts had seen convoy wagons filled with provisions and men crossing into Saxon territory. Uther said they were just a bunch of rabble, armed with iron axes and pitch forks, yet he was still on guard and felt the need to secure new allies.

She'd asked to go along with Arthur; traveling abroad was an adventure and she was sure Merlin wouldn't mind her company (though Arthur might). Uther had refused and that was when she found out she was to be sold like a horse to a lord in exchange for military support.

"What about when the war ends?" she asked. "You won't need the military aid then. What will happen to me?"

"You will be married, Morgana. I expect you'll be Lord Gareth's wife. This marriage is important if we are to defend our borders and our people," he explained. "Sometimes sacrifices must be made. The Lord of Casterford has a strong army and very deep pockets. He has pledged three thousand sword and seven hundred cavalry to our cause."

"But he's ancient."

"Then you'll find yourself a widow in no time and free to marry again. It's long past time you were wed, Morgana. Most highborn girls are wed as soon as they've … become women. I've let you run wild for too long – it's time you did your duty to the kingdom."

"Don't I inherit Cornwall? I'm my father's only living child. Can't I take up my rightful place and aid you as a vassal instead of marrying a lord?"

"That would be… preferable. But Cornwall has been promised to your late father's nephew when he comes of age."

"But I'm his heir."

"Gorlois's brother held Cornwall as regent; upon your father's death you were too young to inherit, and a girl besides, so the title passed to his brother and his brother's line. I'm sorry Morgana, but this discussion is over. You will marry Casterford as soon as the wedding can be arranged. Within the month, I hope."

Morgana decided against further arguing. "Will Arthur and Merlin be back in time?"

"I don't know. That depends how the negotiations with the Franks go. We need their money and their men. Camelot's army will not be able to repel the Saxon forces alone, and I've received news that a Pict rebellion is stirring in the north. We have precious little time to prepare."

:i:

Morgana slid the sword through her belt like Arthur and untied her horse from the tree. She could run away, she supposed, but she had a duty to Camelot and it would be selfish of her to put the kingdom and the smallfolk at risk just because she didn't want to marry someone. Perhaps he will be kind, she hoped. She knew could manage her own household. It might even be fun.

Would Gwen be coming too? Morgana wondered. Gwen was her handmaiden, but by no means did Morgana want to make her friend leave her home in the lower town just so she wouldn't be lonely in another castle. Gwen had friends in Camelot; no, it would be unfair of her to take Gwen away from all she knew.

The trees seemed to close in around her as the air grew more humid. Morgana's hair clung to her face whenever the thin breeze floated past; storm clouds were gathering above the treetops. Morgana swung into the saddle and headed back to the castle, wishing she'd brought a leather thong to tie her long hair back.

The gray palfrey tossed its head, thick mane flying, when the first streak of lightning arced through the slate sky. The thunder heads rolled in quickly, covering what was left of the sun. Morgana gripped the reins tighter as they cantered along the edge of the ravine. A spray of pebbles went tumbling down the gully from her horse's hooves. It began to rain.

Morgana dashed the rain from her eyes and took a handful of mane, gripping the horse tightly with her calves. The path was growing slippery; runoff from the rocky soil above was washing over the path and into the ravine in hundreds of rivulets and waterfalls. Twice her horse slipped, but then the trail turned away from the edge of the drop and onto the muddy forest tract. Morgana dug in her heels and galloped for the home. Mud splattered her boots and twigs snared her hair and scratched her face when she was careless, but soon the forest gave way to the meadow and Camelot loomed in the distance, shrouded in mist and dark clouds.

:i:

The sharp sounds of her horse's hooves on the cobblestones alerted the stable boys to her return. Her horse, belly splattered with mud, was led into the shelter of the warm stable, leaving Morgana free to hurry back to her chambers before Uther discovered his wayward, drenched ward.

"Milady!" Gwen exclaimed, dumping a pile of linens on the bed. "We were so worried when the storm came up. Sir Leon was going to go out after you, but then we heard your horse in the courtyard. Are you alright? Is that blood?"

"I'm fine Gwen"—Morgana waved away her concern—"but a hot bath would be nice."

"Of course, you must be cold!" Gwen slipped out of the room in search of a tub. Morgana combed her fingers through her tangled hair and began undoing her belt. She laid her borrowed sword on the table, wiping it dry with the edge of her shirt.

There was a knock at the door, quickly followed by Sir Leon. "Gwen? Is Morgana alright? Oh, my lady, I didn't see you!" He coughed self-consciously and turned his back while Morgana wrapped a thick towel over her shoulders and sodden, clinging clothing. "Forgive me. I was just checking to see if you were well. Do you require anything, my lady?"

Touched by his concern, Morgana only smiled and shook her head. Then, remembering Leon was still staring at the wall and couldn't see her, said, "I'm fine. Gwen's just gone to fetch me some hot water." She tugged at her hair, wondering if Leon would have to escort her to Uther for judgment.

"Does Uther know I've returned?"

"I don't think he knew you'd left. He's been shut up in the hall all afternoon with the small council. Negotiations or something – for the war."

"I see," she slipped behind the changing screen. "Please, have a seat. I'm being married off in a few weeks time." She gestured to one of the hard-backed chairs. "Do you know anything about Lord Casterford?"

Leon hesitantly took a seat, angling his body away from the screen. "He's been married before," he began. "Couple of sons and natural born sons too."

"Has he?"

"I'm sorry, that was probably not the right thing to say." Leon chastised himself. "You're to be his wife, as you said." He paused, groping for something more suitable to mention. "Uh, well his castle is strong – garrisoned regularly by about two hundred. He's obviously got a good army if he can spare the infantry and cavalry he's promised to the King. Got a lot of land, him… 'S liege lord to Sir Dayne, Lord Elfred, and Lord somebody of the Green Cross."

Morgana chuckled. "I mean, besides his holdings and such. Have you met him? Is he kind? … cruel?"

Leon took a breath, taking a moment to sift through some old memories. "Before I was sent to squire at Camelot, my father took me along to Lord Gareth's largest holdfast. He seemed … formidable. But his wife at the time smiled a lot so I suppose she was happy."

"That's… good," Morgana said, softly.

Gwen arrived a few moments later, hauling a tub behind her. "I'll just fetch some more hot water. Be back in a tick."

"I'll give you a hand," Leon said, getting to his feet. "My lady." He inclined his head towards the screen.

"Thank you, both," Morgana called after them.

:i:

Morgana drew her knees up to her chest while Gwen scrubbed her back. "Did Arthur know?"

"Know what, milady?"

"My political marriage."

"Oh, no, I don't think so," Gwen said. "The king only announced it this morning."

"Do you think he would have stopped it? If he were here, I mean."

Gwen shrugged sympathetically. "I really can't say. The king says it's for the good of the realm and that we all must make sacrifices. But sacrificing your happiness… Oh, Morgana, I'm so sorry."

"Don't be, Gwen, maybe Lord Gareth won't be so bad." She traced a pattern in the soap bubbles on the tub. "He's old; perhaps he'll just ignore me and I'll be free to do as I please. I could manage his household. I know I'd be good at that. It's just... what if I don't like him?"

Gwen shrugged helplessly. "Love doesn't happen overnight."

"That's true. Is there any more hot water, Gwen?"

"I'll go fetch you some." Gwen smiled.

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