Golden Swords

The King's Visit

She was lying in bed already when Dastar entered the room, tired and weary from the day's work. "I have news, my darling," he said, stripping off his tunic and belt, "The king and royal company are coming to stay  in a few days time. We must make preparations for their arrival."

She sat up in the bed, surprised. She'd known Dastar was powerful, but the king coming to stay? "How many are coming? Where will they all stay?" I asked.

"The king and queen will have the best guest bedroom in the west wing, and the royal company will have the whole top floor," he said. "They'll probably be about thirty royals and courtiers, and the same amount of guards to accompany them."

The next few days were a flurry of preparations, her handmaiden drilling her on the correct protocols for addressing the king and queen, and discussing seating arrangements for the dining hall. The old Mycena would have spat on the seating arrangement and said that the king could sit on the gods-damned floor for all she cared, but instead she just nodded and agreed to whatever her ladies in waiting suggested. Banners were strung out, the best cutlery was brought out and polished and the unused bedrooms were cleaned out and generally spruced up for the arrival of the king and entourage.

When the royals finally did arrive, it was with great fanfare as the huge snake of riders and wagons crested the hill next to the house. She and Dastar bowed before the king and queen, and welcomed them into their house. The king was rather fatter than the legends would have suggested, but the queen was slim and beautiful and perfect. The old Mycena would've proclaimed that the queen was as empty-headed and frivolous as a chicken, but the new Mycena was virtually empty-headed herself, so merely chatted about the weather and the current gossip with the queen and her court.

All of the king's visit was going perfectly, until the day of the hunt. Mycena was a decent shot with a bow, and she would've loved the chance for a ride. She doubted that Dastar actually liked hunting much, as he never went with just himself or his nobles, but it was expected of him to arrange one for the king, so the knights and nobles of both courts were heading out today. She thought that hunting was something a woman would be allowed to accompany them with, if not actually use the weapons, so she had put on one of Dastar's tunics and leggings.

She headed out to the stables and asked the groom for a horse that wasn't being used today, preferably a mare. He looked at her a bit quizzically, but showed her the horses that Dastar and his knights weren't using. Most were a soft bay colour, all apart from one, standing alone in a stall at the end of the stables. She was dark as a starless night, but with a mane and tail of caramel. Mycena had never seen a horse like her, and, as the midnight mare turned her beautiful head towards her, she felt a tug almost like that with her swords. She needed this horse. 

"I'll take that one," she said, indicating. 

The groom shook his head, "Oh, no, mistress, that one have the foulest temper on 'er vat I've ever seen. How 'bout you haves this pretty wee mare instead o' that devil 'orse," but Mycena had already opened the stable door and was talking softly to the horse, stroking her beautiful head.

She had an apple in her pocket, and the mare took it from her hand with the softest brush of leathery lips. Her mother had taught her how to talk to horses, and, while most animals (especially birds, and cats) seemed to hate her, horses had always had a sort of affinity. She spoke gently to the horse, leading it out of the pen and towards the saddle she had selected out of the tack shed. She heaved the heavy block of leather onto the mares' back, clinching it under her belly with the strap. The midnight horse pranced a bit, nervous, as she looped the reins over her head, but Mycena held her head and patted her neck until she calmed.

Swinging up astride the horse, Mycena felt like she was on the top of the world. She realised, she hadn't been riding for nearly a year. As refugee royals having fled their own country, her parents had slowly had to sell every last bit of the possessions they'd escaped with, including her, so there'd never been enough money for a horse of her own.  But her mother had been a rider back in their country, so, one day several years ago, in a sudden flash of recklessness, they'd stolen horses from the nearby stables and made off across the plains, Mycena and her brother learning to ride along the way. There they'd met up with an old friend of her parents and sold the horses, but since then they'd been able to borrow from old friends or bargain when they needed a horse for travelling. The months since she'd married Dastar were the first time she'd settled anywhere for so long since she was two.

"Mycena!" She swung round to see Dastar storming towards her, followed by the king and several knights on horseback. 

"What on earth do you think you're doing? That horse is lethal! Get down at once, riding is far too dangerous!" There was pain and fear and anger in Dastar's eyes, he looked horrified to find her there. "How on earth did you manage to get onto that horse?! Did no one warn you? The thing is vicious, it nearly killed me when I rode it!"

"I...I just wanted to come hunting, that all.." she mumbled, slipping down off her horses' back.

"You wanted to come hunting! Mycena, are you crazy?! Hunting is far to dangerous for you. You know what would happen if you fell and hurt yourself, I would kill myself if anything bad happened to you. You need to stay here, where it's safe! I thought...I thought we had resolved this ages ago. How can I protect you when you try and throw yourself into danger like this?"

He grabbed her mares' reins from her grip, the horse immediately backing away, rearing up against him.

"Go back inside, Mycena. We'll deal with the horse."

She turned and headed back for the door, and as she went, she distinctly heard the king lean down and say, "You need to get that wildcat of yours under control. You know what happens if you give women a free reign, they start thinking they know what's best for themselves. A firm hand is what's needed."

And what cut her even deeper was Dastar's reply, "I thought we'd got over all this ridiculousness after she took the ceremonial swords during our wedding, but she seems to be having a relapse."

She was blinded by mixed tears of fury and embarrassment, the word "relapse" spinning round and round her head. She stumbled through door after door, having no idea where she was going, until she tripped over something, skinning her hands and knees on the stone floor. She crawled towards a corner, sitting with her arms wrapped around her knees and sobbing until there were no tears left to come.

When she finally dried her eyes enough to see, she looked around in  wonder. This room was full of gold, and jewellery, and mostly weapons. Armour stood on mannequins by the back wall and, on a table covered with a silk cloth, there lay a pair of curving golden swords. It all came back to her. The fierce warrior princess, who answered to no one but herself, who wanted to travel the world and see all of the dangers and the beautiful things that her world had to offer, battle and ride and live on her own two feet. 

She grabbed the swords.