Queen of Camelot

by Nancy McKenzie

  I shook my head. “I am not afraid, exactly. A little in awe, perhaps.”

  He smiled. “With Arthur, awe is easy. But I cannot believe you think he will do this. You are too entangled in your own fears. Think of how Arthur feels.”

  “But I am!” I cried. “How else could he feel, but betrayed by fate? He is High King, and he has no son.”

  Lancelot’s face reflected only his loving kindness and his understanding. “Gwen,” he said gently, “think of the man you know. He would as soon part with a limb as part with you. As I would.”

  “He would part with a limb readily enough to save Britain, and no one knows that better than you, Lancelot.”

  He smiled and kissed my hand.

  “True enough. But is this a matter of saving Britain or of pleasing her King?”

  “Arthur’s seed is Britain’s future.”

  “Perhaps. That’s with God, surely. But don’t pretend to me that Arthur treats you like his broodmare, because I won’t believe it.”

  His words were so like something Arthur had said to me once that I started in surprise. “You really think he will keep me?”

  “Yes,” Lancelot said. “I do.”

  I sat down next his bed and gripped his hand. “Dear God, I hope you are right.”

  18 FIDELITY AND BETRAYAL

  The escort arrived with great pomp and flourish and not with a litter but with Pallas, dressed in a gilded bridle. The King had even sent new riding clothes so I could return to him in the style for which I had become well known.

  Niniane’s ladies dressed my hair, and Niniane herself as Lady of the Lake blessed me in public ceremony before I left the shrine. Outside, King Melwas’ troops lined the road and saluted us as we rode by. Melwas himself was there, richly dressed and crowned, and, although I could scarcely credit it, still followed me with hungry eyes. I remembered he had spoken to me of visions fed him by the old Lady of the Lake. Perhaps, having come so close to his heart’s desire, he could not bear to leave it and still had hope. I shuddered at the thought, and the captain of the escort, who rode beside me, guided his horse closer.

  “Have no fear, my lady,” he said in a low voice, “we shall be rid of Melwas soon.”

  I was surprised to recognize Ferron and saw in his very presence the touch of Arthur’s hand. If the captain had been in disgrace as a result of my foolhardy behavior, he was being given the chance to redeem himself.

  “Good Ferron,” I greeted him, “how glad I am to see you here! I beg you will forgive my arrogance last time we met. I was wrong to ignore your good advice on that occasion and see now what it has cost us!”

  He looked astonished and stuttered in reply. “Queen Guinevere, I—please do not—I beg you will not—the fault was mine, my lady. Were I half the horseman you are, I could have followed you in the fog!”

  I laughed in delight, for his admiration was genuine and his compliment, so unlooked for, pleased me greatly. The bright May sun shone down upon us and my heart lifted.

  “How does the King?” I asked him, knowing he had had an interview.

  “The King is angry,” he said stiffly, eyes straight ahead. And so he should be, I thought, but nonetheless I felt apprehension grip me. Soon after this we came to the end of the marshland causeway and met the open road to Caer Camel where, breaking into a gallop, we had no time for further talk.

  The trumpets sounded at King’s Gate as we drew nigh, and all of Arthur’s troops came out to meet us. They lined the streets of Camelot and every man of them cheered as I rode past. I was overcome by such devotion, and when I dismounted in the castle forecourt, my eyes were blurry with tears. Ferron led me up the steps to the waiting party at the door. It was not until I sank into my curtsy that I realized with cold shock that Arthur was not there. Kay’s hand raised me, and Kay’s voice spoke the formal greeting.

  “Welcome home, Queen Guinevere.”

  Trembling, I took his arm. “Where is my lord?” I whispered. “Kay, why is he not here? Take me to him!”

  Kay grunted and led me inside. “My orders, lady,” he said rather loudly, “are to take you to your rooms, where you may await the King’s command. He will send for you when he is at leisure.”

  I glanced at him sharply, but his bland expression told me nothing. At leisure! What could he be doing now, with every one of his men on the streets of Camelot? Kay escorted me through the corridors to the door that gave onto the women’s quarters. The nearest sentry stood a good ten paces off. When he bowed over my hand, he winked and said in a low voice, “He waits in your garden, but let no one know.”

  I thanked him swiftly and ran to my rooms. Ailsa and all my women were gathered in my sitting room, sunk in curtsies. I barely paused to greet them as I hurried by.

  “My lady!” Ailsa cried in distress.

  “Later!” I called over my shoulder. “I wish to be alone. Await my call.” And I flew up the stairs to my bedchamber. Whether they thought I suffered from anger, fear, or humiliation, I cared not. I had to see Arthur. If he desired a private meeting he had chosen the place well. My garden could be approached from my bedchamber only, and no man could enter except through the King’s apartments. As I stepped onto my terrace I stopped and took a deep breath to steady my nerves. So much depended on this interview!

  Arthur stood at the end of the garden, half turned from me, watching the fountain play. I saw him suddenly as a stranger might, with that odd sight that is given to us at times to clear our senses and show us things anew. He was then in his twenty-fifth year, in the full flower of his manhood. He had been High King of Britain for eleven years, and kingship was part of the fabric of the man. He was tall and well made, with long limbs that moved with a natural grace. Clean shaven and clear-featured, he was a handsome man in a rugged, soldier’s way. But what set him so apart from other men was something else: his inner light, his grace of bearing, his wholeness, his serenity. He knew who and what he was. He lived in his own time. This is what I saw that day, and it moved me deeply.

  I came lightly down the stairway and crossed the garden toward him. The splash of the fountain hid the sound of my approach, and he did not see me until I was beside him. Thus I saw his true reaction and could judge his heart.

  He turned and his face lit. “Guinevere!”

  I sank to his feet and, taking his hand, pressed my lips to the great carved Pendragon ruby. “My lord Arthur!”

  He lifted me with both arms and held me tightly, his hands in my hair, unbraiding it with practiced skill as he whispered endearments in my ear. “I have missed you so! Are you truly recovered from your ordeal? When you are able, I would like to hear everything you have to say.”

  “I shall tell you everything. But Arthur—”

  He stopped my lips with his own, and I yielded to his ardor. I felt so safe in his arms. He was Britain, and my home.

  “Ah, Gwen,” he said at last, drawing away and allowing me breath, “can you forgive me for leaving you on Ynys Witrin? I’ve been through hell here, carrying on as if everything were normal, while you lay in Avalon surrounded by Melwas’ troops. I wasn’t sure he’d keep his promise to let you go. If I’d forced him—well, I’d have won the war, but risked losing the battle. I had to do what Merlin tells me you did and treat him like the gentleman he’s not. If he thought I cared for nothing but your honor, he’d think he had less to lose by returning you. I had to sham indifference,” he said with a touch of icy anger, “and give the coward hope.”

  I drew him to me and rested my head against his chest, where I closed my eyes and listened to the slow, strong beat of his heart.

  “He told me,” I said quietly, “that you would put me away. That all the world knew it.” I felt his body tense, but I went on. “That was why he dared. That and some prophetic dream a priestess fed him. It matters not. But he is brave, Arthur. You were well advised to speak him fair and give him hope you would put me aside. Else I think he would have kept me and risked war.”

  He lifted my chi
n and looked down into my face. His eyes were dark and deep and warm. “Did you believe him?”

  “I—I—I have feared it, my lord, before this. You have cause.”

  His face hardened, but his hand against my cheek was gentle.

  “I shall not do it,” he said roughly, holding my face in his hand and looking directly in my eyes. “I shall never do it, Guinevere. I swear it here before God. So long as I am King, you shall be Queen. At least I can spare you that horror.”

  Tears slid down my cheeks, and he kissed them, one by one. “Arthur,” I whispered, choking back a sob, “I love you from my soul.”

  He closed his eyes at that and went quite still. “Mother of God!” he breathed. “That I should live to hear you say those words to me! And after what you have been through and where you have been!”

  Then he laughed a joyous laugh and, sitting on the stone bench that flanked the fountain, pulled me onto his lap. “And how is Lancelot? I have had reports from Niniane, but you can tell me things that she cannot.”

  “He is impatient of return,” I told him, “and furious that Melwas is still alive.”

  “Then he is nearly recovered. I do not worry about Lancelot with Melwas. There is not a man on Ynys Witrin who would willingly raise a sword against him. He is the finest swordsman in Britain.”

  I smiled at him. “He speaks highly of you, too.”

  “Besides, I brought his weapons home with me, for his own protection.”

  I laughed. “He did not tell me that.”

  “I think perhaps he owes you his life.”

  “But it was you who sent me to him. It was a noble gesture.”

  “It was a desperate one,” he said gravely. “I wanted you here, but I cannot afford to lose him.”

  I slid my arms around his neck. “Arthur.”

  “Yes?”

  “I must tell you. About Melwas.”

  “Ah, yes. Of what do you accuse him?”

  “Of abduction.”

  “Is that everything? Not,” he said, facing it, “of rape?”

  “No. He did not take me. I escaped that fate—by minutes—but I escaped.”

  He let out a long, slow breath.

  “Did no one tell you?” I cried. “Did they let you think—”

  “No one knew, for certain. Lancelot lay senseless, and Merlin disappeared.”

  “But if you doubted—Arthur.” I looked at him with awe. “Do you mean you vowed to keep me, even when you thought he had used me so?”

  His face was grave, but his eyes were warm and comforting. “I do. Nothing Melwas could do could change what is between us. He would have to kill you to take you from me. As for the rest, it is simply fools’ chatter. I have had, for years now, plenty of advice to put you aside—you know the reasons. But I cannot do it, Gwen. There is more to life than breeding children, and I do not wish to do without you.” His arms about my waist tightened. “A King’s life can be abominably lonely. I am away from home so often and so long, I feel I have the right to come back to the woman of my choice.”

  I kissed his throat and rested my head upon his shoulder. “You are the soul of generosity. You are the only man in Christendom to whom it would not make a difference.”

  “Oh, it makes a difference,” he replied, with an edge to his voice. “But not to you. To Melwas. The difference between certain death and the chance to sue for mercy.”

  “What will you do to him?”

  “I will charge him with the crime he has committed. We shall see how he responds. I have wanted to kill him, but it is not the best solution.”

  We sat silently awhile. I was wrestling with my conscience; Arthur looked at peace.

  “My lord,” I said at last. “There is more I should tell you about Melwas. Niniane told me you should hear it.”

  He waited. I could not tell from his face whether or not he already knew.

  “I stalled him for as long as I could,” I said slowly, forcing it out, “but eventually Melwas decided he could wait no longer. When it grew dark, he—he—Arthur, he put his hands and lips upon me, and half undressed me. Then he saw a light, a signal, from his confederate, and left. I should have covered myself, my lord, I know. But I was—frozen. I was so frightened I could not move.”

  “Yes,” he said in a tight voice. “I have seen the same in men, after battle.”

  “I knew nothing. I did not feel time pass. I was still standing thus when—when Lancelot came in.” My eyes were averted from his face, and I know I blushed. “He covered me, my lord, and took the unclean feeling from me.”

  His finger pressed against my lips to stop the words, and I was grateful. After a long silence, where neither of us looked at the other, he spoke. There was pain in his voice.

  “He is my friend. He has done me a great service, and almost lost his life for my sake. If he—gave you ease of heart, Guinevere, I am glad of it.”

  Such generosity was beyond belief. I bowed my head and let the tears slip out. My heart ached for him.

  “He told me,” I whispered, “that you would not put me away.”

  “He knows me well.”

  I hugged him tightly and pressed my wet cheek to his face. “Sir, I would that it were not so. I would spare you this.”

  “Thank you, Gwen. But it cannot be helped. This we all three have known. It is the trust between us that matters.”

  “We shall never break it,” I promised him, as I sat on his lap in the shaded garden with tears on my face and my heart too full for speech.

  At length he lifted me and began his slow pacing to and fro before the fountain. I could not imagine what there was left to say.

  “Guinevere,” he said at last, “you have been brave and honest with me and told me things I did not like to hear. Now I am afraid that I must say such things to you.”

  “How so, my lord?”

  “Recall I told you that I had to hide my anger from Melwas and feign indifference to your fate to give him hope, both by leaving you there so long, and by sending you to Lancelot.”

  “Yes.”

  “There was a double purpose in it. And in my sending Ferron in my place, and in my leaving Kay to greet you. I had to seem cold, not only to fool Melwas, but to fool his accomplice here in Camelot.”

  I gasped. “Accomplice?”

  He glanced at me quickly, and he looked a different man. His eyes glinted hard and bright, and his face was set. I had never seen him so angry.

  “How else was Melwas there? He was not fowling in the fog. He had information that you would be riding that way. More than that, he had information that if he were successful he might keep you, for I might put you away. God knows the palace gossip has found little else to talk about this year past.” He shrugged it off quickly and moved on. “A courier was seen leaving King’s Gate before your party left, and after you had told Kay your plans.”

  “You don’t suspect Kay!”

  “I will not unless I have to. Who could have overheard your instructions to him?”

  I thought back carefully. My answer might amount to accusation. “Six of my women,” I said at last, and named them.

  “Ah. So Elaine was there.”

  “Arthur!” I cried, gripping his arm. “You cannot suspect Elaine!”

  His look was very gentle. “You feel about her as I do about Kay. You grew up together. She is your sister. But think closely on this, Guinevere. Is the trust between you strong?”

  “My lord, I—I have always thought so.”

  “I am not sure that it goes both ways,” he said. The very gentleness of his voice frightened me.

  “Something has happened,” I said suddenly. “Tell me.”

  He sat me down upon the bench and stood before me, holding both my hands. “Do you know why Elaine has refused all offers, even from the finest of my Companions, and never married?”

  I gasped and met his eyes. “Yes, my lord. But—do you?”

  He nodded, and I sat speechless, waiting for what was coming.
>
  “I found her in my bed,” he said simply, “when you had been two weeks away. For a moment only, I thought it was you. She has the trick of imitating your voice. For a brief moment I imagined you had escaped and come to me secretly somehow.” He smiled, a little shamefaced. “A dream born of longing. It was a moment only. I knew, as soon as I touched her hair. But in that moment—” He hesitated and I felt my face grow red with shame. I stared miserably at the paving stones and clung to his hands. “—she revealed her soul. She said things to me that will not bear repeating. In truth, I think she is not well.”

  I shook my head. “No, Arthur. It is only infatuation. She has always been so. It is not new.”

  “You will keep her away from me!” It burst out of him with force, and then he sighed and sat down beside me. “I am trying to tell you, Gwen, that I suspect her of grave disloyalty to you. Whatever the cause, I think she betrayed you to Melwas.”

  I said nothing. It was possible; I saw that. But I did not want to believe it of Elaine. That she loved Arthur, yes. That she would actually try to supplant me, no. But if she had really gone to the King’s bed—

  “Are you certain it was Elaine?” I asked desperately.

  “Yes,” he replied with sadness. “I lit the lamp.”

  “And this happened when?”

  “A week ago. After I had sent you to Lancelot. To all the world it looked as if I had given in to fate and cared no more about you, which, may God forgive such deceit, was the plan.” He passed a hand across his brow. “I did not suspect her until this happened, but I do now. What I wish to know, Gwen, is whether you want to handle this yourself, or if you want me to do it. I leave the choice to you.”

  “If it is Elaine—she does not know that you have forgiven me?”

  “Forgiven you?” He touched my cheek. “You have done naught to offend me.”

  “I mean—you have promised—she cannot know yet that you will not put me aside?”

  “No. That has been one point of all this subterfuge, that the informer should not know my true feeling toward you. Thus I conspired to meet you privately, where not even Elaine could observe us.”

  “Then let me speak with her, my lord. I owe her that.”