Gwen sat on her bed and looked about her. Her heart began to sink. “No light; no glass in the window; no shower and toilet in a bathroom outside. What am I going to do, Kate? This place is going to drive me nuts! No decent clothes to wear. No means to contact home. Four days already and my mother must be wondering where I am. My friends too. Dirt and ugliness all over and if I say anything I’m likely to be branded a witch!” She looked at her servant girl and put her head in her hands.
“My lady, wouldst thou allow me to speak?” Kate asked.
Gwen looked up. “Go ahead”
“My lady, I believe what thou says. Thou art not a witch but a lost soul. I have held my tongue all this time since thou awoke; I have heard thee speak of visions that are indeed far beyond my ken. Thou speakest now of thy mother as if she is alive – yet she was taken from thee, killed by Saxon invaders, even before I was born. I have heard thee speak of medical remedies that are entirely new to me. I do believe that thou cometh from a different time and place, by what magic I cannot guess. I do believe thee. But it is none of the things of which thou speakest that convince me. It is instead in thy manner, thy very soul. Thou seest that which lies only upon the surface but thou cannot see beneath. Thy noble knight Sir Gareth, thou speakest of him as if he is some wart upon the skin of Camelot, yet thou cannot see his heart – so fair, so true, so gracious, so generous and kind that many a maiden here does wish that he would tarry by her side. Yet he sees only thee and he would lay his life to defend thy honour…but thou dost not see this. Thou seest nothing. My lady, thou art not my lady. The Lady Gwendolyn that I know sees all this of which I speak, and yet more. She has taught me well. Thou inhabits her body, but thou hast come from a different place. Not Camelot. Thou has said so and I believe thee.”
Gwen stared, astonished at this outpouring. A thirteen-year-old girl was trying to teach her a lesson?
“My lady, I remain thy loyal and faithful servant. I will serve thee as well as I can, as well as I must. But open thine eyes and thy heart to this fair citadel. I beg thee! There is no dirt and ugliness here. This is Camelot! A place that many across this kingdom, and across others too, speak of with awe. To reside here is to be blessed. The Knights of the Round Table pledge their lives to defend the most noble of ideals – to never cheat or lie; to uphold the law; to never to do battle for mercenary gain, or against a noble and honourable opponent; to fight and defeat evil with all their might; to grant mercy to those defeated and to seek in every endeavour to serve and never dishonour a lady…and thus earn the respect of their fellow knights. My lady – thou, or rather the Lady Gwendolyn that I know, art a treasured part of that ideal. The Lady Gwendolyn is the fairest, most gentle and most honoured maiden that lives here. There are many knights that might worship her…but they would not recognise the words that thou hast uttered these last hours. How canst thee talk of not being able to survive, or of wishing to leave? Clearly thou knowest not of the love here, without which we are all destined to wither away. There is a depth of love, warmth, affection and respect here that I believe thou cannot see in the shallow world from whenst thee came. Embrace it or truly thou wilst die.”
Gwen was struck dumb. She just goggled at her servant.
“Forgive me, my lady.” Kate lowered her eyes. “Thou may dismiss me; send me away; banish me from thy presence and from Camelot too for speaking thus, if that is thy wish…” Tears were again flowing from the young face.
Gwen did none of those things. “Stay, Kate. Just give me a minute…”
Gwen lay back and tried to make sense of it all. She was free now of fever, of dizziness, even of the alcohol from the recent meal that might have clouded her mind. She was living in a different world now, like it or not. Make the best of it, ‘cos there’s nothing else to be done. And her body? Was she the same person, inhabiting the same body? There was the cut on her finger – just the same as before. But…but this wasn’t the same body now – somehow she knew it. Her brain was still the same. Her person-ality? Unchanged, no matter how badly it was suited to this entirely different culture that now surrounded her – Kate had made that patently clear. But her body was not the one she had lived in before. She knew it. What was it that Kate said, and Merlyn had said before? That she was a fair and gentle young maiden? A maiden?
“Oh, fuck it!” said Gwen quietly to herself. “I’m still a virgin!”
Chapter 4
THE HOSPITAL
In his early-seventies, hale and hearty and proud of it, Dai Mervyn had never before been to Newport General Hospital. As a result, he got lost wandering about inside, looking for the ward he’d been directed to, but after twenty minutes of confusion, eventually he found the place. A small ward of four beds, with one in particular curtained off. And there was Gwen Price, still unconscious, and her worried, ashen-faced mother sitting beside her.
“Ceri Griffiths? Gwen’s mother? How do – I’m Dai Mervyn.”
“Mr Mervyn? That’s kind of you indeed to come.”
“Call me Dai, please. No – it’s the least I can do. My dog that bit her, see. It didn’t seem like anything at the time but they tell me now that next morning she hyperventilated in reception, then fainted and concussed herself. Stone floors, see. Must have given herself quite a blow. Has she woken up yet?”
The question brought Ceri Griffiths close to tears. “No. Three days it’s been. The doctors have run brain scans and told me there’s no damage…but she still hasn’t come round and no one knows when she will. A coma is hard to predict, they say.”
“Aye.” Dai Mervyn just stood beside the bed. There wasn’t much else he could do. The two adults kept themselves company for a while and then Dai went off to see if he could get a couple of teas. He came back within a few minutes to see Ceri Griffiths standing, leaning over the bed.
“Gwen, Gwen, can you hear me?” A mixture of relief, hope and concern were all surging within her. “Gwen, it’s your mother, dear. Please wake up!” Dai put the teas down on a small bedside cabinet and watched a growing movement in the bed beside him.
The patient was stirring. Eyes opened and just as quickly shut again. A faint moan issued from her lips. Gwen’s mother was desperate to see signs of life returning to her daughter after such a long time when she had not moved so much as an eyelid.
“Gwen, I’m here, my love. It’s your mother. Please wake up…”
It looked like the patient was trying to oblige. Her eyes flickered once more.
It was a cold, brilliant, white light. A light that was alien, artificial and frightening for one unaccustomed to it. Lady Gwendolyn kept her eyes tight shut and put a hand up over them.
“Kate,” she called out, her voice weak and unsteady.
“Gwen! It’s your mother; how are you, dear?”
Lady Gwendolyn was blank. Her expression registered confusion, then fear and, with her hand shading her eyes, she looked first at one silhouette, then the other standing over her. She whimpered in shock, bewilderment and fright.
“Kate! Where art thou?” she called out again.
“I’ll ring for the nurse,” said Dai Mervyn, reaching across to the buzzer above the bed.
“Merlyn!” whispered the patient. “What medicament hast thou given me?” She reached up and grasped his hand; her grip surprisingly strong with panic.
“Steady on, young lady,” replied Dai Mervyn. “You’ve had a nasty fall. Take it easy now.”
“Where…where am I?” The blinding light was totally disorientating.
“In hospital, my love. You’ve been in a coma for days. I’ve been worried sick about you.”
Lady Gwendolyn looked up at the mature woman who was smiling down at her. There was something faintly familiar about her but she couldn’t place what it was.
“Who are you?” she questioned weakly.
“I’m your mother, Gwen. Goodness, what a long sleep you have had – you’re dreadfully dizzy still.”
The reaction this remark provoked in the patient was a
larming. Her eyes opened wide in amazement and fright. She looked first at one adult, then the other. She held on tight still to Dai Mervyn.
“Is this a dream? Am I in heaven? Merlyn – art thou still with me? Tell me what magic is this?” Lady Gwendolyn was in some considerable distress.
Dai Mervyn was quite taken by this poor girl, trembling before him, her eyes beseeching him to reply.
“Take a hold of your mother, Gwen. Not me. She’s been waiting here for days for you to wake up. Look at her.”
The Lady Gwendolyn returned her gaze to the woman looking down on her; the woman with features which awakened long-buried memories, and with such love and worry clearly registering in her expression. But Gwendolyn could not speak to her. Instead, a tiny sound started in her throat, then grew and grew and could not be stopped until finally she was howling hysterically.
A nurse came hurrying in to the bedside. “The duty doctor is on his way,” she said. “Don’t worry, we’ll calm her down.”
* * *
A white coat, an unfamiliar face, an injection and the Lady Gwendolyn was once more unconscious. The doctor said that she had been given a quick knock-out, but that there was no danger involved; only that she would now sleep peacefully overnight and the two waiting by her bedside might just as well get some sleep themselves and come back in the morning. There was nothing more that could be achieved by staying with her. Ceri Griffiths, emotionally exhausted and lacking in sleep herself, took his advice but, of course, she was still extremely worried.
“She didn’t recognise me, Dai,” she said as the two walked away. “Just what will she be like when she next comes round?”
“Well she did, and she didn’t, Ms Griffiths,” replied Dai Mervyn. “She seems to have made some sort of connection with you, and with me too – which is surprising. But I reckon that that knock on the head has scrambled a lot up for her and she is still struggling to put it all back together again. If I may, Ms Griffiths, I’d like to come back again to see her tomorrow – only if that’s OK with you, of course. I don’t want to interfere, like, but you know there was something there in her reaction this afternoon that really got to me…”
“That’s fine with me, Dai. And do call me Ceri. To be honest, it’ll be a comfort to me travelling to the hospital and back with someone to talk to – someone to take my mind off all the worries I have.”
“Well thank you. That’s very kind of you, considering everything,” Dai replied.
As he walked with Ceri Griffiths to her car, Dai Mervyn found himself examining his own feelings. He gratefully accepted the offer of a lift back home – in his case, a tiny cottage that was now part of the Camelot Hotel estate – but he decided he wanted to share his thoughts with the mother of this poor girl he felt in some way responsible for.
“Funny it is, Ceri,” he said. “But when I first met your daughter a couple of days ago I thought she was a strong-minded lass but there was nothing more to it than that. A bit too spirited, if not actually rebellious, know what I mean? But just now, seeing her expression and her reaction to you and me in hospital, I see an entirely different side to her. Takes me back more years than I want to remember to the daughter who I lost…”
Ceri started the car and took it out into the slow-moving traffic that was flowing past the hospital. She glanced quickly across to her passenger who was lost in thought beside her. She wondered about him. She’d heard about this man – somewhat of a recluse up in that cottage of his – but she never knew he had lost a daughter of his own.
“I didn’t know you had family once, Dai.”
“Aye. Fine girl she was, like your’n. Her mother and I never got on though. We separated and so young Bethan she’d come and stay with me on weekends. I lived for those days when we’d go out walking together through the woods and across the fields. Then she was taken from me. Car hit her when she was on her bicycle, it did. She never woke up. I couldn’t get over it – not for years. It still haunts me. And I’ve never been able to move away from those woods, either. I never will. They’ll have to bury me on that estate, they will – near the pathways we used to walk together. But I don’t want to go on about it. Only that…seeing your daughter, lying there in that bed, her young face looking up at me…brought it all back, see. She was calling out to me, she was, did you notice? My, that hasn’t happened to me for almost forty years…proper got to me it did.”
Ceri had left the main city of Newport now and was winding her way through country roads relatively empty of traffic. She could afford to glance at the older man’s face and see the emotion that resided there.
“Thank you for telling me that, Dai,” she said. “And knowing what you’ve just said, it’ll be good to have you with me tomorrow when I hope that Gwen wakes up again. You’ll understand what I’ll be going through, won’t you?”
“I will that, Ceri. I certainly will.”
* * *
Approaching the nurses’ desk on the ward the following morning, Ceri Griffiths’ heart was in her mouth.
“How’s Gwen?” she asked.
The nurse looked up. “You are Gwen’s mother? And is this Mr Merlyn?”
“Mervyn, Dai Mervyn I am”
“I see.” The nurse nodded, said no more but looked round to call over the duty doctor to speak to them both. Ominous.
“Your daughter woke up very early today, Ms Griffiths. We’ve had to move her to a room by herself, at the bottom of the corridor outside, on the right.” The doctor looked keenly at her. “Gwen Price’s mother, yes? And you, sir, a friend of the family?”
“Aye, Dai Mervyn’s the name.”
“Well she’s been asking for you both, on and off since before six o’clock…”
“How is she, Doctor? Is it OK to visit her now?” Ceri Griffiths couldn’t wait to get to her daughter’s bedside.
The doctor paused; he looked down. Ominous again.
“Your daughter woke up very distressed, Ms Griffiths. Like I said, we had to move her to a separate room.”
“I have to see her!”
“Not just yet, I’m afraid. I called over the consultant psychiatrist to see her as soon as was possible this morning and he’s with her at the moment. When he comes out, we’ll have to hear what he recommends.”
“A psychiatrist?” The shock took Ceri Griffiths completely by surprise, turning her legs to jelly. “What…what on earth’s the matter?” Dai Mervyn took a step closer to his companion and rested a hand on her arm. This did not sound good.
“Ms Griffiths, you daughter is at present a very frightened young woman. I have to warn you that she has shown all the symptoms of returning to her childhood. Her language, her behaviour, it all seems to be typical of a small child, not a nineteen-year-old. She seems perfectly physically well, but her emotional state is that of one who is terrified of the light, of all sounds, of everyone who approaches her. She’s been crying like a babe. To prevent any disturbance to other patients in the ward we transferred her bed to a private room, but that movement itself provoked even more alarm. So we have sedated her, not enough to knock her out since in her state we considered that inadvisable now, and I called in the psychiatrist to examine her. People coming out of comas can be expected to have trouble reawakening, but after a relatively brief period of unconsciousness on your daughter’s part, her reaction since awakening has been extraordinary. Something quite unprecedented.”
All colour drained from Ceri Griffiths’ face. “I must see her! Please, Doctor…very frightened you say she is?”
“Frightened to the point of burying her head in bed and not wanting to emerge. She has been calling for Mr Merlyn, and yourself, and for someone called Kate. Perhaps if you both come with me now, I’ll see what the psychiatrist says.” The doctor led the way down the corridor some twenty-five yards to a private room. He gently knocked on the door and waited.
A minute or two passed, then the door opened quietly and out of the darkened room came a senior, besuited consultant: Mr Jerome C
ohen. He was introduced to the two who were anxiously waiting outside.
“Ms Griffiths? Mr Merlyn? Pleased to meet you.” He saw the worry on Ceri Griffiths’ face and her desperate need to enter the room and see her daughter, but he forestalled her for the moment.
“Ms Griffiths, your daughter is in shock. She is in a world she cannot understand. Her concussion has left her with no physical bruising to the brain; no damage at all that we have been able to detect; to all intents and purposes she is perfectly fit. But her emotional state is in turmoil. She is frightened by the slightest sounds and cannot bear the light. I think it is important that she sees you both – clearly she cannot rest until she does so – but I must warn you to be as gentle as you can when you speak to her. No demands, no surprises, nothing that might excite her unduly. If you do not mind, I will come in with you and stay at the back to observe her behaviour. This young lady is portraying behaviour that is…different…to say the least and I need to understand her emotional state a little better before I can be sure of any correct diagnosis of her condition.”
If the dear Mr Cohen wanted Gwen’s mother to act as reassuringly as possible to the patient and not to excite her unduly then this briefing was hardly preparing Ceri Griffiths to be a calming influence. She was now almost frantic with worry. But she looked at Dai Mervyn, took a deep breath, and they both went in. The consultant followed and, good as his word, he stayed back, aside from the bed and out of the eye-line of the patient as she looked at her two visitors.
“Merlyn! At last! Why hast thou not come before? And my dear Kate? How come she has deserted me? And…and…truly…is this my mother yet come to see me again?” The Lady Gwendolyn drew herself up in the bed and wept tears of relief, at last seeing someone she recognised.
“Gwen, my Gwen…” Ceri Griffiths was so full of emotion after all she had heard that she hardly knew how to react. She placed an arm around her daughter’s shoulder, held her close and kissed her tear-stained cheek. “I love you so…please don’t be frightened.”
Welcome to Camelot Page 6
