Guinevere

by Sharan Newman

  That was how she found her place, a small strip of beach at the end of a narrow path. It was covered by the sea, except at low tide. This night she knew it would be open and, even with her cold, she was determined to go down there, alone. She covered her head with a blanket and leaned her face through the narrow slit in the stones that served as a window. The wind cut her eyes so that tears blurred her vision. But she didn’t need sight. She was calling, calling again.

  Finally, as from a great distance, she felt the answer come. “I will be with you tonight; wait for me.”

  Her muscles relaxed and she covered the hole in the wall again with the oiled skin nailed above it.

  An hour later, when she knew the rest of the household would be grouped by rank around the hearth, she slipped down the stairs and made for a side door she knew she could unbolt. She held her breath as she passed across the dark corner of the hall, but no one turned. They were all intent on a new arrival’s story, something involving a virgin miraculously saved from torture by a monk who turned out to be her lover in disguise. Guinevere had heard many of these stories before and didn’t even pause to listen as she hurried outside.

  The door opened easily and Guinevere was free. Surefooted, she ran down the dark path. The beach was empty.

  She tried to hear the unicorn in her mind, but apart from the constant knowledge of its presence, she felt nothing. Where was he? She reached out to him. It had been weeks since she had actually seen him, although they had communicated almost every day. She felt exhausted and discouraged and wondered if the feelings were her own or his. At first he had been delighted to be with her at the ocean, but as the months had passed he had changed, even as she had begun to grow up. Whether one was connected to the other neither was sure. Yet he was restless now in a way he had never been in the forest, and as Guinevere seemed to grow more and more comfortable in her world, his own contentment grew less and less.

  A great wave threw itself upon the stones and wet Guinevere’s shoes. When it subsided, he was there, shining like the midnight sea. His spiral horn gleamed in the faint shreds of daylight. Guinevere ran to him. She wrapped her arms around his cold neck and pulled a strand of seaweed from his mane.

  “Where have you been for so long?” she reproached him. “Have you found the others?”

  He shook his head sadly. Droplets fell from his coat to the sand. “They must be there. I feel there are beings like myself and yet different living out there, just beyond my strength to reach them. I swim out, calling to them, but there is no answer.”

  He sank down beside her betraying his fatigue. Now Guinevere knew it was his emotions that had depressed her earlier. “I wish I understood,” he sighed. “I wish I knew even if I ought to understand. Guinevere, my other self, I fear I have lived too long for one of my kind. We are meant to be born, to sing and to be killed. That is how it has always been. There are times when I want to beg you to call the hunters and let the cycle continue.”

  She clutched him tightly. “I could not do it. It would kill me if they took you from me.”

  “You needn’t worry,” he soothed her. “I am unable to take such control of my fate. If only I could stop wondering, questioning. My own nature is a mystery to me and yet I must discover it. I must know what a unicorn is meant to be. But I am so tired.”

  His eyes closed and his head fell into her lap. Guinevere bent her face over his and wept for his sadness. She wished she could help him, find his answers. But since she had never questioned anything herself she did not know what it was to be torn and consumed by the need to know why. Her miseries were more concrete. So she could only comfort and love and caress his tormented mind with her own peace.

  What he gave her in return, she couldn’t say, but she returned by first starlight to her room content to be where and who she was. Strengthened and sure, she was no longer bruised by the noise in the hall. Each time she was with the unicorn some of his radiance remained upon her. Gawain happened to glance up as she passed by his sleeping place and thought for a moment that she carried a candle before her face. But he was nearly asleep then and the next morning assumed it had been a dream.

  • • •

  The rumors had been flowing in and out of the castle for months. Everyone knew that Arthur had finally built up a unified force that was slowly pushing the invaders, particularly the Saxons, back to the sea. London had been saved from becoming a Germanic town and only the southeast areas and a few settlements of the invaders in the northeast remained. The autumn past he had scored a great victory over the most important of the Saxon warlords and forced them to leave hostages before they retreated, as a token of their sworn oath never to attack again. Now word had come that some of these hostages were to be brought to Cador and housed at the castle until proper treaties were made and conditions for their release ascertained. Opinions were mixed about the new arrivals and loudly voiced.

  “Why should we take in these Saxon pigs and treat them as royal guests when we know how they have treated our own people in the places they have conquered?” spat a young soldier named Cheldric. “They should be kept in chains by the door and made to howl for their meat like the animals they are.”

  Another answered him. “Arthur has some idea that we should treat them well so as to prove to the Saxons that we are civilized people. As if they would know a civilized country! They even refuse to live in the towns we have had to abandon to them. Instead they build ugly wood huts and crowd into them pigs, cattle, and wives.”

  “If Arthur insists that we treat them well, I will, at least, not harm them,” Cheldric muttered. “But I will sleep with my knife in my hand if they are allowed to roam about unguarded and unfettered. You’d best, too, Mauron, if you don’t want your throat slit by night.”

  The person who heard most of these comments was Sidra, Cador’s wife. She was a strong, proud woman who was saved from being a tyrant in her home by a sense of humor and a firm belief in her own ability to manage people without their knowing it. Certainly she had succeeded so well with her husband that he never realized he had not made a decision in his own home for twenty years. It was she who fed a hundred people a day and found places for them all to sleep. She had managed to get Guinevere a private room without anyone whining to her that she was showing favoritism. She kept guests, fosterlings, and servants busy maintaining the castle and doing the chores without anyone feeling put-upon or ill-used, and lastly, she had the rare talent of being able to listen to the crudest of stories without embarrassing the narrator or lowering her own status. This was crucial in a place that was full of soldiers, where no one could speak above a whisper without being heard by a dozen other people. It was generally understood that she knew everything that went on and kept order partly through the implied threat of using that knowledge.

  Sidra was not beautiful. She had dark brown eyes and light brown hair, now almost totally gray. Her face was pleasant but not exciting, and scarred from a childhood case of smallpox. Her marriage had been an arranged one, and it had taken her husband several years to realize that it was the best thing that had ever been done for him. When it finally dawned on him, he went to her immediately and told her so. He was not a man of action for nothing. Since then her life had been perfect, suited to her talents and interests. It was almost totally through her good sense that Guinevere had learned to live in her home.

  One day, soon after the news about the hostages had arrived, Sidra climbed to Guinevere’s room. Guinevere’s cold was almost gone now and she was dressed and reading a new codex by lamplight. She smiled when Sidra called from the top step.

  “You never need to ask to enter, Foster-mother. Please come and sit beside me. Look, this copy of the gospels has come all the way from Antioch. Each page is illuminated. Look here, they have even used gold leaf in the pictures. The priest lent it to me to read before he takes it to the copyist.”

  “Thank you dear, I haven’t time now to look at it. I want to ask a favor of you. I’m not sure you will
like it but I want you to hear me through. It doesn’t seem fair to ask it of you with your brothers and all, but I really don’t know what else to do with the poor child.” She paused and glanced at Guinevere. Was she listening? Yes, her attention was caught. Sidra continued.

  “You have heard that Arthur is sending some of his hostages to live with us?”

  Guinevere nodded. A faint expression of distaste crossed her face.

  “Yes, I know many people think we shouldn’t house them at all. But, remember, these aren’t common soldiers but the children of their kings. They have no more to do with battles and killing than you do. I wish Arthur would bring them himself but this message says that he can’t possibly come here before spring and he wants them safely here at once. So he’s sending them with Merlin. Thank the Lord there are only two of them.”

  She stopped again, apparently lost in her planning. Guinevere nudged her.

  “What is it you want from me?” she asked.

  “It’s this way, my dear. I just don’t know where to put them. One, I think, I’ll put on the wall side of Gawain. He’ll be out of the way there, but the other—I just don’t know. It seems that these bloody Saxons think no more of their own flesh but to send their daughters to the enemy.”

  “Daughters!” Guinevere was finally surprised. “Do you mean one of them is a girl?”

  “About your age, I’m told, maybe a little younger. Now do you think I could put her down there in the hall with all those people hating her so and me not always there to be sure that no one gets any ideas about her?”

  “Sidra, you want me to take a heathen Saxon girl into my private room with me, don’t you?”

  “Now, Guinevere, did I say that? I know how you feel about them and who has more right? But I confess I did hope you would do it. You being so much better bred than most of the girls here, I thought you might be able to at least refrain from being actively cruel to the child. Think of how frightened she must be, sent away from her family for no crime of her own. But no, I see you are against it and I do understand. A pagan and a Saxon is certainly not fit to share a room with someone of your aristocratic background. I’ll find a spot for her somewhere, in with the horses or the goats perhaps.”

  Guinevere knew when she was beaten. That, at least was something she had gained from her stay at Cador.

  “Sidra, wait. She may stay with me. But you must bring in another bed. In my room, yes. But I’ll not share my blanket with her.”

  “Of course not, dear. No one ever suggested such a thing. It’s very fine and noble of you to do this much. I’m sure it will set a good example.”

  She gave Guinevere a motherly kiss and went back to her work with a satisfied smile.

  When the day came that they were to arrive, the entire household assembled to meet them. Something made each person want to look their best, to let these heathens know what sort of people they were dealing with, so boots were scraped and fine robes shaken out and smoothed; hair was combed and some determined sorts even washed their faces and hands. They gathered in the main hall opposite the entry to await the Saxon foe.

  Soon horses could be heard climbing the stone pathway. They stopped and someone could be heard calling that he would see to the animals and be in later. The voice was muffled but Guinevere thought it was one she knew. Then there was a long silence before the knocking came. Three heavy blows fell upon the great oaken door as if it were being pounded by a hammer. Sidra signaled the porter to let them in.

  There was an audible intake of breath as everyone waited eagerly for the door to swing open.

  Standing on the threshold was Merlin. Behind him on either side stood a young man and a girl. Guinevere gasped at them in astonishment and was glad to hear that she wasn’t the only one.

  They were both of a height and as tall as Merlin. They were dressed in leather and rough wool and the girl wore a cape that seemed to be made of feathers. They stood proudly erect and eyed their captors with disdain. But what had caused everyone to gape in astonishment was not their expression, but their trappings. Both of them were covered in gold. Each wore a filigree headband, armbands, necklaces, bracelets of gold. They wore long golden earrings and their clothes were fastened by golden brooches. Even their shoes were decorated in gold leaf. It was more wealth than most of those present had ever seen. An angry murmur rustled through the hall. Sidra quelled it with a movement of her arm as she stepped forward.

  “Welcome, Merlin, and welcome to your friends. May you each enjoy the hospitality of our home for as long as you desire. We have awaited your coming with pleasure and hope you will find our simple life acceptable.”

  Merlin bowed and entered without speaking. The other two followed him closely.

  “I am honored to be again your guest, worthy Sidra, wife of Cador. I have brought with me two wayfarers who wish to bide with you a time. Their names are Ecgfrith and Alswytha, son and daughter to Aelle, king of the East Saxons.” Ecgfrith stared straight before him, hardly blinking, but Alswytha bowed slightly at the mention of her name.

  “We have prepared resting places for you all which I hope will be suited to your needs and rank,” Sidra replied in the same formal tone. “I will send a servant to put your belongings in their proper places. Merlin, perhaps you and Ecgfrith would like to come with me so that I may explain to you the customs of our house.”

  A thought struck her and she dropped the ritual address to ask Merlin, “Do they speak our language?”

  “Only a few words, but they will learn. I’m sure that with so many wellborn youths as you have here for fostering someone could be found who is capable of teaching his own language.” Merlin raised his voice a little to be sure that those wellborn youths knew who he meant.

  For a moment, Sidra was disconcerted. “Merlin, you didn’t tell me that we couldn’t make them understand us. How will we ever . . . ?

  “You will,” Merlin smiled. He had known Sidra for many years. “That is why I brought them here.”

  Sidra grimaced but continued. “Guinevere, will you please take Alswytha to your room and show her where she is to sleep? Then bring her back here for the evening meal.”

  Guinevere glided forward. She was dressed in the last of her Egyptian silks and wore her hair unbound and fastened only with the jade pins given her by Geraldus’ invisible alto. She had the pleasure of watching Ecgfrith’s proud face widen in astonishment and admiration as she approached.

  She first bowed to Merlin. “I hope you are well, Cousin,” she said a little stiffly. She had never gotten over her discomfort near him.

  He returned the bow. “I am quite well, thank you. I see that you have recovered from your recent illness. And your family? I have not seen them for some time.”

  “They were in excellent health, when I last heard from them, and enjoying a mild winter.”

  With mutual relief they ended the meaningless exchange that manners demanded. She hated the way Merlin glared at her as if she had committed an unpardonable sin. She turned almost gladly to Alswytha. The proud expression on the girl’s face didn’t falter, but Guinevere thought her eyes showed fear. She tried to smile reassuringly.

  “Come with me and I will show you where you will live,” she started. Then she remembered that the girl spoke only Saxon. She put her hand upon Alswytha’s shoulder and pushed gently. “You, come,” she said. “Up. Sleeping room.”

  The girl stared at her with no sign of comprehension. Guinevere glanced helplessly at Merlin, who spoke to his charge rapidly. Alswytha nodded and allowed Guinevere to take her up the stairs.

  Sidra sighed in relief. “Well, at least you can understand them. Where did you learn Saxon?”

  “That is of no importance,” he warned her. “Someone had to be able to converse with them or no treaty could have been arranged. If you tell me what you want them to do and where they are to stay, I will explain it to them before I must leave.”

  “You might have told me that at once,” she replied tartly. “Come alon
g then. Bring Egfreeth or whatever he is called. All right, everyone. You can meet our guests later. Go back to your work and we will meet at dinner.”

  She waved them away but most of the people didn’t go far. They broke into smaller groups whispering among themselves, and occasionally glancing covertly at the young man sitting stiffly between Sidra and Merlin.

  “He doesn’t even know that he’s a prisoner,” Cheldric sneered. “He thinks he’s still a prince. A Saxon prince! We’ll get those bracelets off him soon enough and teach him what he really is.”

  “I don’t think that would be wise, Cheldric,” Gawain said quietly. “You might not like to have to answer to Arthur for any harm that came to him. Or have you given up wanting to join his new corps?”

  Cheldric subsided at this threat, but he and Mauron spent the rest of the afternoon in deep conversation in their corner of the hall.

  Guinevere led Alswytha to her room, holding her hand and speaking to her much as she did to her three-year-old niece.

  “Now, here we go, up the stairs and then a turn and here we are. This is your bed.” She pointed to it. “Bed,” she repeated. She patted the pillow. “You sleep here.” She pretended to snore.

  Alswytha stared at her in complete astonishment, then, to Guinevere’s indignation, she began laughing. Guinevere glared at her angrily. Alswytha laughed harder.

  “I’m sorry,” she gasped at last. “I can’t help it. You look so ridiculous like that!”

  “You can understand me!” Guinevere was too surprised to remain angry. “Why didn’t you tell me so instead of letting me make a fool of myself?”

  “I thought it would be safer if no one knew they could talk with me. I am rather afraid of some of those people down there. I think they would hurt me if they could. But you were so funny! Please don’t let anyone know.”