Maiwenn returned to her seat at the table, composing her face along with her posture. Her wide, brown eyes—so full of love and light, yet stark and resolute—locked on Issylte’s.
“You, my dearest princess, are the heir to the throne of Ireland.” Maiwenn took Issylte’s trembling hand. “I believe with all my heart that the Goddess sent you to me. So you could discover your divine gift, learning to wield the magic essence of the forest. So that you could become a powerful healer. So that you can one day reclaim your birthright.” She met Issylte’s eyes with wonder and awe. “So that you, the Emerald Princess, can become theEmerald Queen.”
Maiwenn turned to gaze at the fire in the hearthas if the flames held the answers she sought.
“I have taught you all the secrets of the forest. You can wield your power to determine which herbs can heal, which can kill. You can create medicines, elixirs, poultices, and salves. Verdant magic is within you, my forest fairy. It protects and guides you, just as it has me, all my life.” Maiwenn cast a loving glance at Issylte, her luminous eyes glowing in the firelight.
“You have mastered the first of the three sacred elements of the Goddess—the forest. And now, you have also shown evidence of the gift ofsight—a magic to be wielded through water. It is time for you to develop that divine gift as well. To master the second of the three sacred elements—water.”
Issylte, bewildered, repeated her urgent question. “Where,Tatie? Where are you sending me?”
Her face alight with wisdom and love, Maiwenn responded with a soft, knowing smile.
“To Avalon.”
Chapter 18
The Fountain of Barenton
After nearly two weeks at sea, Tristan, Lancelot, and the accompanying knights finally reached the craggy coast ofBretagne, where they docked and procured horses for the three-day trek to Lancelot’s domain.Leaving the rocky coves and rugged cliffs behind, they rode southwest through dense forest, stopping to rest the horses and grab a quick meal, sleeping on bedrolls at night, until at last the salty tang of the estuary and the roar of the river announced their arrival atla Joyeuse Garde.
Built upon a hill, thechâteaufaced south, over the Élorn river which flowed into the Atlantic Sea. To the north and west, fertile plains and dense woodlands led to the ocean, but to the east lay the sacred forest ofBrocéliandewhere Lancelot had been raised. As the riders approached, the white limestone castle gleamed as the setting sun sparkled in the rippling waters of the wide river.
Lancelot had sent messengers ahead to inform the servants of their impending arrival. The travelers were greeted warmly by the stable hands who accepted their horses as they rode through the opened gate.Thechâtelain, or lord of the castle, as Lancelot was known here, invited the traveling knights inside, where smiling servants were waiting, ready to usher the guests to their chambers.
“I am hosting a welcoming reception and feast this evening, gentlemen. There are pages available to assist you in preparing a bath. I, myself, cannotwaitto wash the brine of the sea frommy hair,” he said, extending a matted and gnarled sample of his normally shining brown locks, “and don a finely embroidered tunic and soft breeches. My clothing isstifffrom the salt air of our voyage.” He laughed, touching the inflexible fabric of his tunic with a frown.
With his dazzling boyish grin, he added enthusiastically, “There will be delicious seafood—oysters, mussels, fresh fish from the river. With stuffed duck, roast venison, fresh fruits and vegetables. And, of course—exquisite French wine!” At this, the knights roared their approval, and Lancelot concluded with thepièce de résistance.
“And, since you have suffered the company of such filthy brutes as myself and Tristan here—” he joked, gesturing to his companion, who was grinning as broadly as his host—”for nearly afortnight,” he drawled, a mischievous smirk on his face, “I have invited some of the loveliest ladies in all ofBretagneto regale you with their beauty…and delight you with theircharms.” Then, with a dramatic bow, Lancelot departed, withdrawing to his own private chambers and a much longed for bath.
The remaining knights laughed heartily as they, too, headed for their chambers, commenting about what a magnanimous host Lancelot was, how they could not wait to sample the fine food, the exquisite wine, and thedeliciouswomen.
A page approached. “Sir Tristan, please follow me. I will lead you to your rooms and draw your bath, my lord.” Tristan followed him from the entry foyer, down a long hall, up a set of stairs to the second level, to a large chamber at the end of another hall.
The bedchamber was expansive, with large, windowed doors extending from floor to ceiling and taking up nearly the entire wall opposite the entrance. The glass doors were opened wide, letting in the salty summer breeze and the mellow sunlight flickering through the dense trees behind thechâteau. Gossamerwhite curtains fluttered in the gentle wind, the crisp air of the brackish river embalming the room with the scent of the sea. A large bed with fine linens faced the windows from the opposite wall.
Beside the bed was a table with a pitcher, basin, cup and candle. A chair was neatly tucked underneath, with a chamber pot on the stone floor in the corner of the room. Perpendicular to the windows was a fireplace, where a squire was heating water for Tristan’s bath over the flaming hearth.
A magnificently carved fruitwood armoire with double doors, gleaming with the fresh scent of pine oil, towered between the two enormous windows. Peering inside, Tristan glimpsed an array of richly colored tunics, breeches, hats, cloaks, gloves, and boots.Our host thinks of everything,Tristan mused with a smile.
The squire filled the porcelain tub in the adjacent bathing room, then entered Tristan’s bedroom. “I’ve prepared your bath, Sir Tristan. It is good and hot, my lord. Shall I help you, or do you prefer privacy, Sir Tristan?”
Replying that he preferred to bathe unassisted, Tristan disrobed and eased into the hot water, sighing with relief as his tense muscles relaxed. After two weeks at sea and three days in the saddle, his back was tight from sleeping on the hard ground and his thighs protested their abuse.Lancelot is right, he thought, lathering up with the chamomile soap provided by his host,it does feel good to wash the brine from my hair.He slipped under the water with a moan of delight.
Once he finished bathing, Tristan dressed in a tunic of dark green with gold embroidery, breeches of the finest brown wool, and dark brown boots of the softest leather he’d ever worn. As he exited his room, a page came in and quietly removed his dirty clothing to be laundered. The squire who had prepared his bathsaid, “This way, my lord. Sir Lancelot’s guests are arriving, and the feast will be in the banquet hall. Follow me, Sir Tristan.”
The banquet hall was sumptuously decorated, with tables set with white linens, silver chalices and utensils, adorned with large bouquets of fragrant white lily flowers. Along the side walls, attendants were carving roasted meats whose tantalizing aroma wafted through the air while servants delivered goblets of wine to the elegantly dressed lords and ladies being seated all around.
An enormous ballroom extended from the banquet hall, where glittering chandeliers of crystals sparkling with candlelight hung from the high vaulted ceilings. Enormous, windowed doors graced the entire length of both rooms, opening onto a large courtyard enclosed by a high stone wall.
Flowering vines and trees in bloom beckoned, embalming the air with the fragrance of jasmine. A pair of swans floated upon a large pond; water lilies dotted its surface with fragrant white flowers. Under a canopy of oaks enlaced with ivy and wisteria, stone benches welcomed guests to watch the moonlight dance on the shimmering waters of the lake.La joie de vivre,reflected Tristan, remembering Lancelot’s description of thischâteau,which offered all the elegance of King Arthur’s palace, yet with more intimacy than the much larger and more formal Camelot.
As he was ushered to Lancelot’s table, which seated twelve, Tristan noticed that his host was chatting amicably with a dark haired, enormous knight on his left. At Tristan’s approach, thechâtelainrose to his feet, welcomed him with a hearty grin and a friendly slap on the shoulder as he introduced the Blue Knight of Cornwall to his fellow guests.
“Tristan, allow me to present Sir Esclados, the Red Knight, and his beautiful wife, the Lady Laudine,” Lancelot exclaimed as the dark knight stood and extended his rugged hand. Witha firm shake and a respectful nod of his head, Tristan accepted the greeting, turning to place a chivalrous kiss upon the lady’s delicate fingers.
“Sir Esclados and his gracious wife are the lord and lady of the castle of Landuc, in the forest of Brocéliande, not far my mother’s castle of Comper.” Lancelot grinned broadly at the tall, dark knight, who took his seat beside his auburn-haired wife.
