Meet the enemy in RAGING SEA by Kim Headlee Ch 2/Sc 1-B #Arthurverse #giveaway

Tradition states that Arthur fought either ten or twelve major battles (depending on which source you read) to establish his reign. The locations of these battlefields is a subject of debate. Most present-day authors of Arthurian fiction cover these battles, assigning them to various enemies and locales, with varying degrees of analysis and descriptive depth.

What makes the books in my series The Dragon's Dove Chronicles unique, as some reviewers of the earlier novels have observed, is the presentation of the enemies' reasons for attacking the people under Arthur's protection. These reasons cover the gamut from greed to impressing a future father-in-law to sheer economic desperation.

Today's snippet introduces readers to a new enemy, one largely ignored in most other Arthurian novels: the Saxon princess Camilla, daughter of the historic king of the South Saxons, Ælle. One tradition states that she kidnapped Arthur and tried to force him to love her, and that's just too tempting for me to resist putting my own spin on this tale. The seed of Camilla's plan gets its genesis in this scene.


Previous #SundaySnippets of Raging Sea 
 Chapter 1: Scene 1 | Scene 2 | Scene 3 | Scene 4 | Scene 5 |
Chapter 2: Scene 1-A |
Raging Sea Chapter 2, Scene 1-B©2015 by Kim HeadleeAll rights reserved.
Once the jewelry and gold from the transactions had been stowed in the pouch hanging around his neck, Al-Iskandar cleared his throat and called for the last chest to be brought forward.

“And now, King Cissa, I present to you a gift from”—the guttural Saxon tongue lacked certain sounds for the proper pronunciation of the Picti name, forcing Al-Iskandar to improvise—“Queen Guenevara of Caledonia.” As for making the chieftainess appear as if she ruled her entire nation… well. At the rate she was slashing through her enemies, aided by the man the Saxons had dubbed the “Dragon King,” she would earn the title soon enough.

He bid a guard to sever the thick wax seals. Grunting, Al-Iskandar struggled with the massive lid. He was not unprepared for the sight within, or the pungent burst of preserving spices, but it made him blanch.

Camilla gasped, wide-eyed. Her left hand flew to her ivory throat. The men nearest the chest, including the two kings, fought to suppress similar reactions. Those who found their view blocked pressed forward to catch a glimpse of what was causing the stir.

Inside lay the body of a warrior dressed for battle. The bronze-linked hauberk was not torn anywhere that Al-Iskandar could discern and bore not a single fleck of blood. The green-and-gold surcoat likewise appeared intact and clean. A garnet-inlaid gold buckle gleamed from the sword belt. The fingers of the right hand were frozen around the hilt of a naked seax. The left arm was bent, hand to chest. In the elbow’s crook nestled a bronze helmet. The griffin perched on its peak glared through baleful emerald eyes.

The part of the body the helmet had been designed to protect was gone.

King Cissa stared at the corpse. “Merchant, who is this warrior? And who,” he demanded, his eyebrows lowering, “is this Queen Guenevara of Caledonia?”

Wringing his hands and trembling in what he hoped was a convincing show of fear, Al-Iskandar related what he’d heard about the land and naval battles that had occurred on and around the Isle of Maun, now a week past, and of the demon-fierce woman warrior who had defeated Prince Ælferd. He remained all too aware that he trod precarious ground. An ill-chosen word could get him killed.

Or, worse yet, he’d have his gold and jewelry confiscated and be thrown out to beg his way home.

During his tale, a hush blanketed the hall. Al-Iskandar’s words trailed away to make the silence complete.

King Cissa beckoned to the guard captain and whispered into the man’s ear. The captain bowed and strode to one of the closer columns. All eyes watched him tear down the Green Griffin and return to the dais. On bended knee, he offered the banner to his king.

With unutterable sorrow, King Cissa rose, accepted the proffered standard, and laid it over the mutilated body of his nephew. Princess Camilla walked to the coffin, kissed her palm, and pressed it to Prince Ælferd’s chest, tears streaking her cheeks. After she withdrew her hand, King Cissa yanked the lid down. The dull thump echoed around the chamber and died.

“Merchant, I have a message for Queen Guenevara of Caledonia. Tell her she shall answer to me.” Grief twisted Princess Camilla’s lovely face. After she dashed away the tears, her gray eyes glittered with diamond-hard hatred. “I shall not rest until she has paid with her life.”

“As you will, Your Highness.” Al-Iskandar summoned his sincerest smile and rendered the traditional bow of his people.

King Cissa granted his assent, and Al-Iskandar quit the throne room as quickly as decorum permitted, with each step silently thanking Al-Ilyah for his good fortune.

Never mind that the princess had made no payment for the service. Paid or not, were he to deliver such a message to the mercurial Chieftainess Gyanhumara, he would need far more protection than one god could bestow.

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