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and there are many paths to tread
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Posted on January 26, 2014 at 11:43:18 PM by arthur

The rich scent of spiced wine percolated its way through the Great Hall as Arthur lounged back in his chair looking out over the snow laden grounds beyond the leaded glass. Steam rose from the goblet in his hands as the heat radiating from the liquid within met with the crisp ice-coldness of the air. The king had discovered earlier that morning, when he had first sat down to talk with the steady stream of petitioners, that if he leaned back enough in his seat he could see his son in the gardens with the other boys of court. They had spent the morning constructing a snowman, and by lunchtime had initiated a rather elaborate snowball fight, which had since progressed to involve forts. Arthur smiled to himself as the prince popped up over the top of the wall of his snow-fort, threw his snowball and then disappeared from view again, as another boy made rather a show of taking a blow to the shoulder. He was quickly dragged back behind the safety of the fort wall by his companions.

Winter was not Arthur’s favourite season, especially when he suspected that the current weather was the result of Lorraine’s bad temper. When the snow had come, he had instructed Tristan not to leave the grounds without an escort, and to his surprise, the boy had obeyed. Arthur had lost one son already to one of Lorraine’s winters; he was not prepared to risk losing the only one he had left. Tristan was, with his green eyes and bright smile, the last living reminder of his Queen. He believed that Tristan’s compliance meant that the prince was thinking of similar things, and thus the pair had found themselves sharing a quiet and comforting understanding.

A knock on the doors to the hall dragged the king’s attention away from the window, and back onto the richness of the room in which he was sitting. The richness of the varnished wood, coloured banners and golden thread contrasted sharply with the icy whiteness of the outside world and Arthur blinked a few times in order to get his eyes to adjust. “Enter!” he called, and a moment later one of the guards admitted himself through one of the side doors.
“A young woman to see you, Your Grace,” the guard explained with a bow. Nodding, Arthur pushed himself into a more upright position on this throne, the new angle meaning that his view of the prince was obscured by a red velvet curtain. The main doors were opened, and the girl entered.

Arthur was not an especially tall man, standing a little less than six feet, but he was powerfully built, with strong shoulders and a broad chest. His face was square with a strong jaw and there was a long aristocratic line to his nose. He was not handsome, but he retained a regality despite the rather tight line of his mouth. His eyes, a silvery-grey, were easily his most striking feature, gifted with intensity and an expressiveness carefully governed by the mind behind them. He was dressed in a tunic of royal blue, the hems adorned with gold-thread embroidery, over black trousers tucked into fur-lined boots. The cloak that was draped around his shoulders was of a cloth of a light shade of blue, the inside adorned with ermine fur. A simple crown, a band of gold engraved with minute pictures sat easily over the wavy light-brown of his hair. He offered the woman a reassuring smile as he gestured to the chair that stood on the opposite side of the table to his own.

“Welcome,” Arthur greeted her as he waited for her to take the seat, mounting the steps onto the raised dais upon which he sat. He reached for a second goblet and placed it down in front of her, before closing his fingers around the handle of the nearby jug. “Can I tempt you to share a cup of mulled wine with your king?” he enquired coaxingly, “it will keep out the cold.” He did not wait for a reply before he filled her cup, glancing up at her curiously as he did so. “What is it that brings you to my hall today?”

photo by james_clear at flickr.com






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