“Lord Esclados and Lady Laudine are the Knight and Lady of the Spring—the holy Fountain of Barenton—in the heart of the sacred forest.” Lancelot sat down with the Red Knight on his left, gesturing for Tristan to take the reserved, empty chair on his right.
Tristan seated himself beside his host with a respectful nod to Lord Esclados and Lady Laudine. He first met the dark, intelligent eyes of the Red Knight, then the expressive amber ones of the exquisite redhead. Tristan sensed an aura of power emanating from the defenders of the sacred spring.
“Tristan is the nephew of King Marke of Cornwall,” Lancelot continued, “one of the ten winners of the Tournament of Champions held last summer at the castle of Tintagel. He is training to become one of King Arthur’s Knights of the Round Table in Camelot.” At this, Sir Esclados nodded his approval, while Lady Laudine smiled, her elegant white hand gracefully tossing back a long tendril of her luxurious red hair.
Lancelot gestured to the knight seated on the far side of Lady of the Spring. “This is Sir Agrane, First Knight to Lord Esclados and Lady Laudine, at their castle of Landuc.” Upon his introduction, a tall knight with long blond hair and a deep scar across his right cheek rose to shake hands with Tristan.
“Sir Agrane leads a regiment of sixty knights who reside at the castle. All have sworn an oath to protect the sacred fountain—and the sacred Forest of Brocéliande.” The intense blue eyesof Sir Agrane held his gaze as Tristan nodded in homage before finally returning to his seat beside the First Knight of Camelot.
The conversation among Lancelot and his fellow knights resumed, and Tristan observed the remaining guests seated at the host’s table. There were four other ladies, adorned in brightly colored silk gowns, bedecked with sparkling jewels at their throats and ears. They chatted gaily with the knights seated beside them, who were all as bulky and enormous as Tristan himself. Curiously, they all displayed the same tattoo on their inner right wrist that he had noticed on the inside of Lancelot’s sword arm.
The tattoos were triangular, with each of the three corners extending down, like an outstretched arm, curving inward into a protective spiral.An emblem of brotherhood,Tristan reflected,a Celtic symbol of some kind. Perhaps Lancelot will grace me with another of his fine tales when he explains its significance.Hiding his grin, Tristan lifted his chalice and drank deeply of the rich burgundy wine.
When the final course of the meal was finished and the dishes cleared away by discreet and diligent servants, fiddlers and flutists began performing in the ballroom. The four distinguished couples seated at their table rose to join the many other lords and ladies who had flocked to the dance floor, leaving Tristan, Lancelot, Esclados, Laudine and Agrane to chat more freely.
Taking advantage of the lull in conversation, Tristan decided to satisfy his curiosity and inquire about the mysterious tattoos. “I’ve noticed that you all bear the same mark on your inner wrist,” he began with a quiet smile. “What is the meaning of the tattoo you share?”
Lancelot stared proudly at the green design on his wrist, glancing up at Tristan with a grin. “It’s the emblem of the Tribe of Dana—the Goddess of Nature. We’re the defenders ofHer realm—the sacredforest, such as Brocéliande; the sacredwaters, such as the Fountain of Barenton, and the sacredstones, such asles Menhirs de Monteneuf, which are portals to theOtherworld.”
Tristan glanced at Sir Esclados and Lady Laudine. Their faces glowed with the same reverence that shone in Lancelot’s bright blue eyes.
Tristan noticed that Laudine also bore a similar tattoo, with the same curves ending in spirals but with thinner, more delicate scrolls. Laudine, observing his inquisitive expression, explained the meaning of her tattoo. “My tattoo is given to priestesses of the Tribe of Dana who have defended the sacred waters of the Goddess. I am the guardian of the sacred spring of Barenton. I wield its holy power to heal and protect.” Her face glowed, a warm smile reflected in her kind eyes.
Lancelot flashed his boyish grin at the lovely Lady of the Fountain. “Laudine studied with my mother Viviane—the Lady of the Lake—who bestowed upon her the curative powers of the sacred fountain. Many a wounded warrior has been healed by the lovely Lady of the Spring, in our sacred Forest of Brocéliande.” Lancelot raised his goblet of wine in a toast. “To the Tribe of Dana! Defenders of Her sacred realm!”
Tristan joined his fellow knights in the tribute to the Goddess as he clinked his goblet to theirs, drinking in the spirit of brotherhood with generous swallows of his host’s fine wine.
The merriment and revelry continued for three days, with Tristan strolling along the lilied pond and under the floral trellises with Lady Laudine, galloping into the forest for hunting and falconry with Esclados, Lancelot, and Agrane. Nightly feasts offered jubilant revelry, with troubadours, harpists, and fiddlers entertaining the joyous dancers in the expansive ballroom. Each evening at their dinner table, Lancelot planned maneuvers withEsclados and Agrane as they included Tristan in the knights’ training atla Joyeuse Garde.
Most of the royal guests then departed, returning to theirchâteauxand stately manors. Some of the knights escorted the ladies home—including Laudine— returning tola Joyeuse Gardefor vigorous training with Lancelot, Esclados and Agrane. As the weeks flew by, Tristan saw a marked increase in his strength, accuracy with a bow and arrow, and dexterity with the sword.
One afternoon, when Lancelot and his knights were in the midst of their midday meal, a horseman arrived at thechâteauwith an urgent message. A servant ushered him into theLa Joyeuse Gardewhile a stable hand tended the slathered horse.
Breathless, the rider gasped as Lancelot and his knights gathered to listen. “Sir Lancelot, Lord Esclados—I have come from thechâteauof Landuc. The castle is under attack!”
The horseman wheezed, winded from hard ride. Esclados rushed forward, his eyes blazing. “My wife. Has she been harmed?”
The messenger shook his head, panting. “No, my lord. The Lady Laudine is inside the castle. She is well protected by two dozen knights. With two dozen more manning the defense towers.”
Lancelot helped the horseman to a seat and knelt beside him, his expression grave. “Who is behind the attack? How many soldiers?”
The rider fixed his desperate eyes on Esclados. “It is the dwarf Bédalis, my lord. He has an army of knights surrounding the castle. He knows that you and most of your men are here training with Sir Lancelot. So, he has attacked now—while you are away.” He gulped some water that a servant offered. “The dwarf has demanded that Laudine surrender the castle.”
Lancelot rose to his feet, his brows lowered. “Bédalis delves in the dark arts. He wants control of the spring. If he abducts Laudine—”
The Red Knight interrupted Lancelot and began barking orders. To Agrane, he commanded, “Summon the Tribe. Leave immediately. Meet atComper.” He glanced at Lancelot, who nodded in confirmation. Agrane and six knights rushed into armor and strapped on their swords while the grooms raced to ready the horses. Lancelot dispatched a messenger for Comper, with orders to prepare thechâteaufor his imminent arrival.
Esclados turned back to the rider from Landuc and fired more questions. “Has the castle been breached? Are there armed men inside the gate?”
“No, my lord. When I left—three hours ago—they had not yet breached the outer wall.” The Red Knight paced back and forth in front of Lancelot and Tristan. “Agrane and his men can summon two—perhaps three—dozen members of the Tribe. We can bring sixty knights with us, and still leave a minimum of guards here for defense. If we surround the dwarf’s men and block any escape—the element of surprise is in our favor.”
Lancelot shouted to his knights. “At arms! We ride to Comper. We attack tonight. Now go—make haste. To Comper!”
Esclados approached again, pensive and grave. “As Lord of the Spring, I also wield its power. For itsdefense.”
Tristan watched the Red Knight pace, forming his battle strategy. Esclados turned abruptly to Lancelot.
“If I can reach the fountain, in the heart of the forest, I can summon a storm. Lightning, thunder, winds, hail. By drawing forth the divine power of the sacred spring.”
