Lancelot and Guinevere

by Carol Anne Douglas

  Although she was stunned at that word, Lancelot went down on one knee like a proper warrior. The abbess gestured for her to rise. "No need for that. I've always known that you were a woman. Please rest and be comfortable here."

  Lancelot was nearly weeping.

  Guinevere sobbed, "Comfortable, no, never that again."

  The abbess held onto her hand. "You must not say that."

  Old Mother Ninian came in and put her arms around Lancelot, while the abbess talked with Guinevere.

  "I should never have taught Talwyn and Creirwy to fight," Lancelot choked. "They died fighting for Guinevere."

  "Why should you not have taught them?" Ninian asked, holding her tightly. "What would they have done otherwise? Creirwy might have been raped many times, and Talwyn might have been forced into a marriage she did not want and died in childbed. How can you know? Was it worse for them to die fighting?"

  Lancelot would not be comforted so easily. "How do you know? Perhaps they would have had a good old age like you." She pulled away and looked at the beloved many-wrinkled face.

  "Perhaps they would."

  "And I am responsible that they did not."

  "You do not ask whether you should have taught the young warriors to fight," Ninian reminded her.

  "Perhaps not them either. My own students wanted Guinevere to be burned. I trained the men who tried to kill Guinevere. I killed some of my students." Her words choked at the memory. During the fight, she had not minded killing them, but now their deaths made her heart ache. Gawaine had said that Camlach and Cildydd were not really his sons, but what if they were? Perhaps she had killed more of Gawaine's flesh and blood. She staggered, clutching at Ninian's arm so she would not fall. "Why did I ever take up a sword? And why have I not perished by it?" Her voice faded into despair.

  "You took up the sword to help women like your mother. You have done what you could. None of us can do more." Ninian embraced and patted her.

  A brown-eyed nun appeared and put her arms around Guinevere.

  "Oh, my childhood friend! It is so good to see you, Sister Valeria," exclaimed Guinevere. Then she moaned. "Do you know how many lives have been lost because of me? Even the life of a girl I raised as a daughter."

  "No more will be lost defending you," Valeria said gently. "Your years out in the world have ended, and now you can rest and learn. Those who cared about you would have been glad that you could."

  "Thank you, my friend." Guinevere rested her head on the nun's shoulder.

  Then Sister Branwen came and embraced Lancelot and met Guinevere, and Maire the housekeeper told them that she had prepared rooms for them.

  Lancelot realized that she had many friends in this place.

  For that night and many others, Guinevere and Anna who had been Lancelot just lay in each other's arms and wept over the young women. When Guinevere woke up screaming "Talwyn!" Anna held her.

  After a restless night, during which he had wakened only to drink himself back to sleep, Gawaine staggered to the great hall to break his fast.

  Far fewer warriors than usual were partaking of the food.

  Arthur approached him.

  "Mordred went off in the night and took many of the younger warriors with him." The king's face was red with anger. "I shall declare all of them traitors."

  Gawaine looked at him wearily. "He plans to fight you, then."

  "Let him try!" Arthur stiffened, as if preparing for war.

  Gawaine had never been less eager to fight for Arthur, but he reckoned he would.

  Morgan stormed into the Abbess Perpetua's office. She wore a gown of the finest black stuff, far different from the abbess's black robes. Her entrance was so dramatic that the striped cat at the abbess's feet jumped up, though Perpetua maintained her dignity. How dare she be so calm? It mocked the tumult in Morgan's chest.

  "Lancelot will be staying here?" demanded Morgan. "Then I must leave. How can I stay under the same roof as the one who betrayed my poor daughter and thus caused her death?"

  The abbess sighed. "Dear Morgan, Lancelot has helped some of our sisters and she has come here in need. I cannot turn her away."

  "Indeed." Morgan trembled with anger. Were their years of friendship nothing? Was it ever possible to trust a Christian? "You will kindly see that a novice brings food to my room, for I shall not leave it while Lancelot is here. I shall soon return to Tintagel. Do not tell them that I am here, for I have no wish to insult Guinevere. How dare Arthur try to kill her? I never thought he would sink so low."

  "As you wish," the abbess replied, majestic as ever.

  Morgan swept out of the room.

  Talwyn woke in considerable pain, surprised at being alive and not entirely pleased. She was in Guinevere's bed. Strangely, the room looked the same as ever. The wall hangings, the scrolls. But the room felt as if its spirit was gone. Guinevere's cat hopped onto the bed, looked disappointed that Talwyn was not the queen, and mewed.

  Gawaine entered the room and came to her bedside. "I'm glad that you are alive. You're a brave girl. Guinevere is safe. Lancelot rescued her."

  Talwyn sighed with relief. "Thank God and the Holy Virgin."

  The large warrior's face was solemn. "I must tell you that your father died," he said in a voice much softer than his normal one.

  “I saw that.” Talwyn groaned and turned her face to the wall.

  "Gryffyd was a brave man," Gawaine continued. "And almost the only man sane enough to know that Guinevere had to be saved." He patted her hand.

  "I don't much care whether I die, too," Talwyn mumbled. Who was there to care about her now?

  "I hope that you will care," Gawaine responded. "When I was away in Gwynedd, I saw Galahad, and he loves you very much, as Lancelot does Guinevere. Will that comfort you a little?"

  Tears streaming down her cheeks, she turned to Gawaine. False hopes would be unbearable. "I can never laugh again. Will Galahad love me if I can't?"

  He smiled and the red beard on his chin bobbed. His blue eyes looked so kind. "You may be surprised. People can go through a great deal and still laugh."

  He was wrong. That was just one of the things old people said.

  He left, and Talwyn buried herself in her covers and wished she was buried in the earth.

  Luned brought her a posset to drink. When Talwyn turned away from it, the serving woman said, “I have news that should cheer you more than this drink. Creirwy, like you, survived the battle. My husband took her to Fencha, who will care for her.”

  Talwyn wept tears of relief. “Thank you,” she said. She might never see Creirwy again, but she would always admire the brave girl who had served Guinevere so well.

  Gaheris cornered Gawaine while he was putting on his boots and challenged him. “I can't bear it that you did not love our brothers. Not even Gareth.” His voice broke. “All you care about is Lancelot. If you don't take some action against Lancelot to avenge our brothers' deaths, I might as well go off and join Mordred. At least he was willing to punish the woman who killed them. Won't you do anything?"

  Gawaine's heart filled with pity at the sight of Gaheris's distress. "It was Mordred's fault that they died. But if it will ease your grief, I shall do something." He had no wish to lose his last brother. Perhaps something less than a fight would satisfy Gaheris. Gawaine guessed that Lancelot might be at the convent she and Galahad had told him about, with the old nun who Lancelot had said would heal her if need be.

  He was not just thinking of Gaheris. He wanted to see Lancelot again, if he could do so without endangering her, to let her know that he had tried to save Guinevere. She must not think that he had supported Arthur's brutality.

  Anna walked slowly in the black robes of a nun. As she left the refectory, the sister porter brought her a sealed vellum message.

  Who could know that she was in the convent? Anna wondered. She saw Gawaine's familiar hawk seal, heaved a sigh of relief, and broke it.

  Noble Black Warrior,

  The Red Warrior chal
lenges you, at the request of his brother, Gaheris, to avenge the deaths of Gareth and Agravaine in a duel. I hope that you will choose gwyddbwyll pieces as your weapon. Meet me at the clearing in the forest ten miles from Camelot, at midday the day after tomorrow.

  Gawaine ap Lot of Lothian and Orkney

  She nearly fell over. She had thought that no more blows could wound her, but she had been wrong. Gawaine wanted to fight her. She couldn't bear to look at the letter a second time.

  Guinevere, also black-garbed, approached her. "You look ill. What is the matter? Who has guessed that we are here?" she asked anxiously.

  "Gawaine is challenging me to a fight." Anna's voice was hollow—hollow as her chest felt.

  Guinevere gasped. "Don't go. It won't be a fair fight. It must be a trap."

  Anna flared up. Would Guinevere's animosity toward Gawaine never end? "Gawaine would never trap me. I must go."

  Guinevere took hold of Anna's arm. "But he might kill you. You don't have to give him a chance. You didn't kill Gareth, and you had to kill Agravaine."

  "He won't know that unless I tell him," Anna explained. But would he believe her?

  Guinevere's tone was placating, but her grip on Anna's arm tightened. "But who knows what other men may follow him and try to do you harm, even if he does not?"

  Anna shook her head. "I have to go, explain what happened, and tell him how sorry I am about their deaths."

  "I should think you would have had enough of fighting," Guinevere sighed.

  "I have," she said solemnly. "But I cannot fail to go if my friend requests it."

  Anna avoided looking into Guinevere's eyes. She had no chain mail now, and she needed none. If Gawaine insisted on fighting, she would quickly let him win. If one of them had to die, it would not be Gawaine. Her only regret would be leaving Guinevere to live on alone.

  Gawaine told Gaheris that he would leave Camelot early in the morning, but actually he left the night before, taking with him Bedwyr and Peredur as witnesses—and to help if there was trouble if any warriors followed them.

  They arrived at the clearing in the woods and waited among the oak trees, where crows cawed at them. He wanted to fade into the trees and never return to Camelot. The time for quests had passed, and he was sorry for it.

  Lancelot appeared among the trees. Her hair had turned entirely gray. She wore her old tunic and breeches.

  She bowed to them, and they bowed in return. Her face was pale and there were dark circles under her eyes, as if she had not slept since rescuing Guinevere.

  Seeing her so worn-looking pained him like a cut in a sword fight.

  "I regret the deaths of Gareth and Agravaine," she said in a mournful tone. "I am sorry that you have had this terrible grief. But I did not kill Gareth, and I cannot fight you, for you have been my friend." Her voice choked on the last words.

  "Fight you? Never! Not even if you had killed all of my brothers, if they attacked you," Gawaine cried, stretching out his arms as if to embrace her. His heart lightened at the thought that she had not killed Gareth. "I said that we should only have a match at gwyddbwyll. I used the names Black Warrior and Red Warrior, thinking you would understand that meant a game."

  "Oh!" She shook as if she might fall, but she did not move closer. "I barely glanced at the letter. How good you are," she choked. She seemed to be on the verge of tears. "I did kill Camlach and Cildydd."

  He nodded. "They tried to prevent you from saving Guinevere." Surely she would not want to weep—not in front of Bedwyr and Peredur.

  "I challenge you to a board game," Gawaine said, trying to make his voice light and easy.

  "I accept the challenge."

  Some of the pain in her face faded away.

  "I also have brought you chain mail, a helmet, a shield, and a spear because I thought you might have need of them. Your own were stolen, but I did the best I could." It was not necessary to tell her that men had wrecked her house and pissed on her clothing. He unloaded the things from his horse, and Lancelot loaded them onto hers.

  "Many thanks. You are so kind," she said.

  He brought his gwyddbwyll board forth from his saddlebag. "This will be a fierce but honorable battle, noble Black Warrior."

  "Thank you, noble Red Warrior." Her voice was calmer now. "You might as well call me the Gray Warrior now." Only her eyebrows were still black.

  He tried to grin. It was good that she could attempt a jest. He thought she still looked just as handsome with gray hair, but he did not say so.

  They sat on stones and Gawaine spread the board on another stone. He put out the pieces, taking the red for himself, and Lancelot immediately took hold of the black queen.

  "I would never have let Arthur kill the queen," Gawaine told her. "I would have done anything, even fought with him, to prevent it. Bors and I planned to save her. No doubt she has told you that Cai took the place of the executioner." He gave an inquiring look, as if asking whether she believed him, and she nodded.

  "Cai told Guinevere that you opposed burning her." Lancelot's voice and hand shook as she said the word "burning." "Was he badly hurt?"

  "By good fortune, he will recover. Even lying in his sickbed, he already jests about it, saying that no one at Camelot knows how to cook unless he supervises them. Gods, of course I tried to keep Guinevere from burning. How could I do otherwise?" Thank all the gods, Lancelot believed him.

  “I’m grateful that you did that instead of looking for me.” She smiled, although her smile was weary.

  “I knew that was what you would want.” He returned the smile. "Yet it frightened me greatly to hear that you had a spell of madness. You must fight the madness, even when terrible things happen. If I die someday and you go mad, my shade will never be at rest," he warned her.

  She shuddered at the thought of his shade suffering and wandering.

  The game proceeded. She soon captured two of his pieces.

  "Actually, one red warrior struck the other," she told him.

  Gawaine stared at her. "You mean that Agravaine killed Gareth?"

  She nodded. "Gareth seemed maddened at seeing I was a woman. He must have thought I was a witch. He attacked me, but when Agravaine wounded me, Gareth turned to protect me, and Agravaine killed him by accident. Then I killed Agravaine, to defend myself and Guinevere. I remember it all now, but at the time, I lost my head and feared I had killed you."

  "Great Daghdha's cauldron! How dare Gaheris and Mordred blame you for both deaths!" he yelled, almost knocking over the board game. How could his own brother have told such a terrible lie about their brothers' deaths?

  "It all happened so quickly, and the room was dark. Gaheris may not have realized what happened. It happened because of me. I'm sorry," she said in a sorrowful voice, her large, brown eyes full of woe.

  "Gaheris wants me to kill you," he growled.

  "He's just grieving," she said soothingly. "Let's play the game."

  "Yes. Gaheris might follow me. We may not have much time." Gawaine tried to lower his voice because he was not angry at her. He remembered that he had something else he wanted to tell her, although it was difficult in front of Bedwyr and Peredur, who certainly must be listening closely, especially after hearing that Agravaine had killed Gareth.

  Gawaine picked up one of his game pieces. "This warrior has a fine daughter," he said, but he did not proceed with a bawdy story as he might have at some other time.

  She smiled. "I'm glad to hear that." She seemed to guess his meaning.

  He had less pleasant news. Grimacing, he told her, "I’m sorry to say that some warriors beat Catwal because they were angry at you. He was sorely hurt."

  "Not Catwal!" Lancelot groaned, putting her hands to her head. "Why must he suffer for what I have done? Guinevere says the serving people are always unjustly punished for our transgressions, and she is right."

  Perhaps he should let her know how dangerous her situation was even if he didn't tell her about the pissing. "Many men are angry at you... "
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  Lancelot sighed. Her brow furrowed. "Gawaine, I know what men want to do to me. I have always known what they would do if they found out."

  "Why don't you go to the coast and sail to Orkney? You'll be safe there. I'll let mother know that you didn't kill Gareth." He tried to speak in a voice that was too low for Bedwyr and Peredur to hear. "I'll follow you later." He surprised himself. He hadn't planned to say that he would go.

  Her eyes widened with amazement. "Go to Orkney? No, I have no thought of doing such a thing. I’ll never leave Guinevere.”

  “Of course not,” Gawaine agreed. “She should go there, too. She would be safe. My mother and I would give her every honor and comfort for the rest of her life.”

  Lancelot shook her head. “Guinevere would never consent to live under your protection. She wants to stay in the convent, so that is what we will do.”

  Gawaine gasped. “You won’t let her bury you in a convent?”

  Lancelot looked him in the eye. "I shall go or stay wherever Guinevere chooses, now and always," she said gently but firmly.

  He looked away. "Very well." Of course she would. He must have been mad to suggest otherwise. But surely Guinevere would come to her senses and realize that Lancelot couldn’t be so confined.

  Then Gaheris rode wildly into the clearing. He threw himself off his horse. "What are you doing? Why aren't you fighting?" he yelled at Gawaine.

  "We are battling at gwyddbwyll," Gawaine said, casting a bitter look at him.

  "You can't avenge our brothers with a board game!" Gaheris shrieked.

  "I can. Just watch me." Gawaine's voice was full of contempt. He had no intention of saying what he had learned. Let Gaheris stew.

  "It's indecent!" cried Gaheris. "If she loses, she must forfeit her life," he demanded. Bedwyr and Peredur took hold of his arms and bade him be silent.

  "If you were playing gwyddbwyll for your life, you might better have sent Guinevere, who would always defeat me," Gawaine said.