The Kidnapped Prince

Rheged

"Holy shite," Sir Percival swears, turning his horse to view the Perilous Lands.

Standing at the border of Rheged are the cave dwellers. They cry with anguish watching as the company of knights, ladies and squires leave.

Behind the cave dwellers, a Wyvern screeches. That ungodly screech urges the company to ride away faster. They know the wyvern can't cross the border, but the thought of the winged beast tracking them isn't pleasant.

For hours the company rides through grassy plains and sun-filled skies. After a week of near-constant darkness, the warmth of the bright rays is welcome. More than welcome. It's Gaheris who ends up sporting a beet-red face after sunbathing on his horse.

Thankfully Lady Rhoslyn has a solution for the young squire. A strong-smelling green salve. It may not be a people pleaser or a lady attractant, but it does its job.

After four hours of riding, the company comes across a small town. The town seems so lively compared to the forest hours away. Children run and laugh. Adults chat as they work. Even the animals seem happy, from the smallest mouse to the largest horse. Children run for the company the moment they see them riding in.

A young chap no more than four asks if they are here for the festival of Beltane. His friends enthusiastically grin and nod.

Lady Rhoslyn looks to Sir Bedivere, silently pleading if they can participate. The Beltane festival, or Calan Mai in Camelot, has always been her favourite. The dancing, the leaping over flames. Lady Rhoslyn always feels more alive the next day.

"Already?" Gaheris asks the boy.

"Yeah! It's tonight!" The young boy grins.

"Can we?" Lady Alys directs her question to Sir Bedivere. She's always been a fan of dancing. This festival is no exception.

"I don't see why not," Sir Bedivere shrugs. Like the ladies, he also enjoys Calan Mai. He gets to dance with his wife and children. What more could he want?

Lady Rhoslyn grins ear to ear. She allows Sir Percival to offer her assistance dismounting. It was a long day of riding, and her magic has only just settled in her body.

On an off chance, Sir Gawain asks the young boy if he knows where they can stable their horses and sleep. The young boy perks up as if it was possible for him to be even more lively and begins leading the company to a tavern at the far end of town.

After stabling their horses, the company is led inside. The tavern is quiet and perfect for the company. Anything would do at this point. Anything with four walls and a semi-soft bed. Oh, and a bath. A bath is much needed.

The tavern owner is a middle-aged woman with curly brown hair and a silver streak running the length of her braid. She warmly greets the travellers and patiently waits for the young boy to explain why they are here.

"Thank you, Alcott. I'll see to our guests now,"

"Bye, Auntie Hazel, see you at the festival." Alcott waves to his aunt as he leaves.

"He's my sister's boy. Kind but rather forward," Hazel states with a soft smile, watching the door her nephew ran out of. She turns to the company, and single's out Sir Bedivere. "Did I hear correctly that you're here for Beltane?"

Sir Bedivere nods curtly.

"We don't get many travellers during the festival. This is unexpected. I hope you enjoy yourselves,"

"We will thank you," Sir Bedivere smiles. The woman reminds him of his sister. Soft and kind to children but straight to business when needed. "Do you have enough rooms for us to share?"