Read Online The Story of Gawain and Ragnell by Ruth Nestvold - Free Book Online
Authors: Ruth Nestvold
Tags: The Pendragon Chronicles
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the right half of her face was livid, and she clutched a rust-red cloak the color of blood to her neck as she approached.
"Ragnell!" both he and Bertilak called out at the same time.
Without responding, she hastened up to them. Before either saw what she was about, she pulled a heavy sword out from under her cloak and swung it high and down. The blade connected with Bertilak's neck, struck bone, and slid away. Blood spurted out of the deep wound, spraying their calves and thighs and drenching the stones and dirt at their feet.
Bertilak screamed and clutched the wound. Ragnell swung again, with both hands this time, putting her whole body into it, shrieking like a fiend from the Otherworld. The splat of flesh and blood was followed by the crunch of bone and steel and another long drawn-out screech, which finally ended when Bertilak's head fell away, his mouth and eyes still wide, silently echoing the scream that had gone before.
The men who had been watching stepped away as one, while Ragnell's sword clattered to the ground at her feet. Then silence, thick as the mist swirling between them in the ruins of the former Roman garrison.
A shaft of sunlight cut through the milky winter atmosphere, reflecting on the bloody sword at Ragnell's feet.
"There. It is done."
At her words, the fog began to lift. Before their actions could become desertion in the unforgiving light of day, Bertilak's men began to slip along stone walls and down side streets and alleys away from the square and out of the garrison walls.
In profile, the beautiful half of Ragnell's face was stark and unforgiving, like some ancient war goddess, Cymidei or Morrigu. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Gareth raising his arm and pointing. "Ragnell! What —?"
Slowly, she turned and faced Gawain. Her beauty was as complete as he had ever imagined, the scarred half of her face smooth and perfect. He blinked and stared, unsure if he should feel elated — or perhaps even betrayed. He had accepted her as she was, had even learned to find her disfigurement beautiful in its own way.
Only to discover now that it had been a masquerade all along.
She stepped around the body of the warrior in green and took his bloody sword hand in her own, cupping the fingers that still clenched the hilt. "Not a masquerade, Gawain," she murmured so that only he could hear. "Merely a way to survive. Besides, how are you to know that this is not the illusion?"
Despite his feeling of betrayal, he found the corners of his mouth twitching up in a smile at the words of his clever wife.
"We can let them think it was a spell of the sorceress sister, yet another facet of her revenge," Ragnell continued. "Will you help me?"
He nodded shortly. Dropping his shield, he lifted his free hand to her now scarless cheek. "Ragnell," he said loud enough for all the men remaining in the square to hear. "You are whole!"
Her eyes widened, and he had to keep a smile of amusement from springing to his lips, in spite of all that had just transpired. She was a consummate actress — perhaps too much so. He would have to keep that in mind during their future life together.
She brought her own hand to her cheek, tracing the smooth skin as he had, and laughed out loud. "The spell is lifted!"
Any of Bertilak's men who still lingered dashed off at these words.
"Verily it is, my dear wife." Gawain leaned forward to kiss her smooth cheek. "You have quite a bit of explaining to do yet," he whispered in her ear.
"Is it not enough to know that I love you, but I needed to test you?" she whispered back.
"You were 'scarred' when I arrived at your hill-fort," he reminded her.
" That was to protect myself. I could not drop the illusion I had created simply because I had found you."
Gawain decided to leave it at the strange declaration of love for the time being. There would not have been time to demand explanations anyway. His men had overcome their instinctive fear of a veritable Judith and begun to cheer
"Ragnell!" both he and Bertilak called out at the same time.
Without responding, she hastened up to them. Before either saw what she was about, she pulled a heavy sword out from under her cloak and swung it high and down. The blade connected with Bertilak's neck, struck bone, and slid away. Blood spurted out of the deep wound, spraying their calves and thighs and drenching the stones and dirt at their feet.
Bertilak screamed and clutched the wound. Ragnell swung again, with both hands this time, putting her whole body into it, shrieking like a fiend from the Otherworld. The splat of flesh and blood was followed by the crunch of bone and steel and another long drawn-out screech, which finally ended when Bertilak's head fell away, his mouth and eyes still wide, silently echoing the scream that had gone before.
The men who had been watching stepped away as one, while Ragnell's sword clattered to the ground at her feet. Then silence, thick as the mist swirling between them in the ruins of the former Roman garrison.
A shaft of sunlight cut through the milky winter atmosphere, reflecting on the bloody sword at Ragnell's feet.
"There. It is done."
At her words, the fog began to lift. Before their actions could become desertion in the unforgiving light of day, Bertilak's men began to slip along stone walls and down side streets and alleys away from the square and out of the garrison walls.
In profile, the beautiful half of Ragnell's face was stark and unforgiving, like some ancient war goddess, Cymidei or Morrigu. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Gareth raising his arm and pointing. "Ragnell! What —?"
Slowly, she turned and faced Gawain. Her beauty was as complete as he had ever imagined, the scarred half of her face smooth and perfect. He blinked and stared, unsure if he should feel elated — or perhaps even betrayed. He had accepted her as she was, had even learned to find her disfigurement beautiful in its own way.
Only to discover now that it had been a masquerade all along.
She stepped around the body of the warrior in green and took his bloody sword hand in her own, cupping the fingers that still clenched the hilt. "Not a masquerade, Gawain," she murmured so that only he could hear. "Merely a way to survive. Besides, how are you to know that this is not the illusion?"
Despite his feeling of betrayal, he found the corners of his mouth twitching up in a smile at the words of his clever wife.
"We can let them think it was a spell of the sorceress sister, yet another facet of her revenge," Ragnell continued. "Will you help me?"
He nodded shortly. Dropping his shield, he lifted his free hand to her now scarless cheek. "Ragnell," he said loud enough for all the men remaining in the square to hear. "You are whole!"
Her eyes widened, and he had to keep a smile of amusement from springing to his lips, in spite of all that had just transpired. She was a consummate actress — perhaps too much so. He would have to keep that in mind during their future life together.
She brought her own hand to her cheek, tracing the smooth skin as he had, and laughed out loud. "The spell is lifted!"
Any of Bertilak's men who still lingered dashed off at these words.
"Verily it is, my dear wife." Gawain leaned forward to kiss her smooth cheek. "You have quite a bit of explaining to do yet," he whispered in her ear.
"Is it not enough to know that I love you, but I needed to test you?" she whispered back.
"You were 'scarred' when I arrived at your hill-fort," he reminded her.
" That was to protect myself. I could not drop the illusion I had created simply because I had found you."
Gawain decided to leave it at the strange declaration of love for the time being. There would not have been time to demand explanations anyway. His men had overcome their instinctive fear of a veritable Judith and begun to cheer
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