Guinevere

by Sharan Newman

  “Don’t worry, son,” Leodegrance patted his shoulder. “It’s nothing to do with you. I suppose I must go to the council to keep them from being too vengeful.”

  “What do you mean?” Mark’s voice was hard, but his father didn’t notice.

  “Well, now that the vow is broken, her life is certainly forfeit. I imagine we will have to execute her, but I will do my best to see that it is as painless as possible and that she isn’t tortured first.”

  “What!” Guinevere and Mark spoke at once, but Mark’s voice was louder.

  “How can you talk so calmly of murdering her?”

  Leodegrance tried to pacify him. “I don’t want you to bother about such things on your first night home. It is unfortunate that this happened now. I will go with Cador and do what I can for the girl. You must not let yourself be concerned.”

  Mark gazed around the room as if everyone had suddenly gone mad. Arthur squirmed uncomfortably. Merlin and Cador just looked worried about his state. Guinevere was the only one who seemed as horrified as he was.

  “I am going with you,” he stated.

  There was no arguing with him, and, in the end, Guenlian and Guinevere insisted that they must go, too. Arthur and Merlin were already required to attend the council or trial, whichever it was to be. And, as the matter was serious and Mark refused to wait, they agreed to leave the next morning.

  That night, Mark lay in his own bed for the first time in more than three years. He was clean and well fed. He was warm and no man’s property. He was all the things he had never thought he would be again, but he could not sleep. Each time he drifted toward slumber, he felt again cool hands stroking his burning face.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sidra met them in the courtyard. “I’m glad you came so quickly,” she told them, kissing her husband without missing a word. “Some of the men were for starting without you, not knowing if Guinevere could be recovered. They said that you would be too busy with her to bother about this and it wouldn’t matter anyway whether she were safe or not, as the issue was the broken truce. Come in at once, never mind the horses. Your man can take care of them.”

  She gestured at Mark, who was again wrapped in his ragged cloak. He began gathering up the reins. Guenlian started to expostulate, but Leodegrance stopped her.

  “Not now. We can explain later.” His expression reminded her that it might be better if Mark were not present for the debate of the council.

  “Guinevere, my dear,” Sidra embraced her fondly. “I’m so glad that you are all right! I was worried until I heard of Gawain’s plan and that Arthur was going to get you. Then I knew you would be back soon. Arthur hasn’t failed at anything yet.”

  She led them all into the castle. It was late in the morning, two days after they had left the villa. Even with the spring sunshine outside it was dark within and chilly. The fire on the enormous hearth did little to dispel the gloom. It took some time for their eyes to adjust. First they only made out the forms of men, seated in a semicircle: the tribunal awaiting the prisoner. Then Cador clenched his fists and strode to the man seated at the center.

  “How is it, Colum, that you begin this meeting without us? And why are you seated in the place of honor? Are you the Dux Bellorum now, the leader of the armies of Britain? Under what authority do you convene this meeting without my permission?”

  Cador was impressively angry, but Colum was too old and too powerful in his own right to be cowed, although he did relinquish the chair.

  “This matter could not await your arrival, since we had no idea when that would be. It is a clear case of oath breaking, and the only question before us is how the girl should be punished so that her father and the other Saxon scum will not so trifle with us again. As the largest landholder present, I naturally presided. Now, however, I am happy to turn the matter over to you.”

  He moved to another chair with ponderous dignity.

  Cador watched until he had settled himself. “Thank you, my Lord Colum. Normally, I would take the seat of honor in my own home, but today I feel that it is time to give it up to someone else, to a man who has earned it and who shall soon have the final decision in more cases than this. Arthur, the time is coming when this seat will be more familiar to you than the back of your warhorse is now. I would be honored if your rule of Britain would start here.”

  He stood behind the chair, waiting for Arthur to take his place.

  Arthur swallowed hard. His eyes darted about the room in panic. He realized at once that the honor was barbed. He did not want to be the one to sentence Alswytha to death. Merlin moved within his range of sight and, almost imperceptibly, the older man nodded. With a sinking heart, Arthur sat in the seat of judgment.

  Cador spoke again, in more normal tones. “My wife tells me that the girl has been sent for. Where is she?”

  “I believe she wished to be formally dressed when she faced you,” Sidra explained. “It seemed only fair. She should be down soon. Guinevere’s maid, Risa, is with her.”

  Gawain sat at the other end of the hall in one of the many niches around the walls. It suddenly occurred to him that with everyone down here it would be a perfect time for him to slip upstairs with Risa. After all, no one had asked him to take part in this and for that he was grateful. It was not the sort of thing he enjoyed. So there was no reason why he shouldn’t use the time for something better. He could almost feel Risa under him already. Then he saw them come into the hall. Risa was leading Alswytha gently, giving her an arm to lean on. When he caught the look of terror and despair on the Saxon girl’s face, his desire for Risa crumpled.

  Risa stayed next to Alswytha until they reached the center of the hall. A narrow strip of sunlight lay across the floor, having made its way through one of the lookout slits high overhead. Risa placed Alswytha so that the light shone directly on her. Then she gave the girl’s hand a sympathetic squeeze and came over to the recess where Gawain watched. She sat next to him and took his hand. She gave him no other greeting.

  Alswytha had dressed herself in her finest clothes. The swan cape came past her waist, and the light reflected off each of her golden ornaments. She made no attempt to soften her Saxon appearance, but faced her judges proudly.

  “Merlin, speak to her,” Arthur commanded. “Tell her what has happened and why she is before us now.”

  “I’m sure she already knows,” Merlin answered, but he spoke a few words to her anyway. She nodded understanding.

  Arthur sighed. He longed for a sword in his hands and a horde of bloodthirsty invaders to attack.

  “The question before us is, what shall be done about this clear breach of faith and violation of an oath? This woman is bond for the good conduct of her father, Aelle. I have seen with my own eyes that Aelle has crossed into our territory, he has taken in Ecgfrith, who was also to be bond for him. And, worst of all, he kidnapped the Lady Guinevere, and, in doing so, has killed a number of good men who might one day have been leaders of our land. How can we ensure that this will not happen again?”

  There was a silence. Then Leodegrance spoke up, his voice sorrowful. “Her life is forfeit now. There is no other way. We can only do it as mercifully as possible.”

  “Here now,” another lord interrupted. “What will that gain us? Aelle doesn’t care what happens to her or he wouldn’t have left her here. I say we send her back to him alive, but keep a few mementos for ourselves, her nose, say, or some fingers. Then he would know we mean business.”

  There was a murmur of approval for this. Guinevere listened in growing horror. Why didn’t her father answer this? What was wrong with him?

  Lord Stator of the south Welsh spoke now. “It seems more merciful to give her her life in exchange for a nose. And certainly, the knowledge that their children would be returned to them maimed would make those Saxons think again before turning them over to us on false promises. There would be no more broken vows if they knew their daughters would be returned to them in such a fashion.”

  Ho
w could they discuss this horrible thing so calmly, Guinevere wondered. Some of the lords were leaning back in their chairs, picking their teeth with their knives, and grinning at poor Alswytha. For a moment she forgot that Alswytha was Saxon, heathen and an enemy. She hated all those men with their ugly, leering faces. She almost hated her father for saying nothing to stop them. Only Arthur sat stiffly, his back not resting against his chair. His face showed nothing of his thoughts. Guinevere noticed that Merlin and her parents were not paying attention to Alswytha or to the other men. They were watching Arthur.

  “You are too soft, Stator,” Colum grunted. “Your lands haven’t been overrun by these vermin. Your tenants haven’t been killed and their daughters carried away by these . . .” he spat, not finding a word both strong enough for his feeling and speakable in the presence of ladies.

  “That’s true,” another lord removed his knife from his mouth long enough to agree. “But I think she should be sent home alive. She should be able to tell them what happened to her. Why don’t we just cut off her nose and little fingers and send her back to Aelle. But first,” and he smiled as if well pleased with himself, “let the soldiers have her awhile.”

  The color left in Alswytha’s face drained and her eyes rolled back in her head. As she fell, Guinevere screamed and rushed over to her. But Mark was there first. His cloak was off and he was dressed again as a nobleman. The scars across his face burned with fury. He caught the unconscious girl and wrapped her in his arms as he glared about the room. At first he was too angry to speak and all the lords just gaped at him. To their superstitious minds he might have just risen from the dead.

  “You vile animals!” Mark finally whispered. The astonished silence was so complete that his hissed words sounded like shouting. “You will not touch her. Is this your city of reason, Arthur? Will you found your new world on innocent blood? Do you think anyone could make civilized men out of this base rabble? You are a dreamer and a fool and I want no part of anything you may try to do for them.”

  Alswytha moved in his arms and he lifted her face to his. Sidra was beside them now with a cup of wine which she held to the girl’s lips. Her eyes flickered open and she gave a cry of joy as she saw Mark’s face.

  “Ceorl!” she sobbed, “Me leofede Hlaford!”

  “Me leofede Wytha,” Mark murmured, burying his face in her hair. He then rose and faced the assembly, but did not release her. She clung to him, unaware of the tears running down her face. Sidra gently took Guinevere back to her place.

  “This is not for us to meddle in,” she told her. “They must take care of it in their own way.”

  Guenlian gripped her husband’s hand so tightly that her ring cut into his flesh.

  “He is in love with her!” she whispered, her voice disbelieving and afraid.

  Leodegrance nodded.

  “But she . . . she’s not even Christian!”

  “Yes,” he carefully disengaged her hand. “But Guenlian, we must not challenge him. We cannot lose him again.”

  Mark faced Arthur. His voice was still tight with anger. “What will you decide, Lord? I say that I have been more ill treated by the Saxon than any man here, and I claim this woman as retribution for my suffering. That is . . .”

  He bent his face to Alswytha’s and spoke so tenderly that Guenlian felt ashamed for listening.

  “Wiliest thu with me gerestan?”

  She smiled at him and answered in Latin, “I will stay with you or go with you anywhere, forever.”

  Arthur watched them. He felt a bitter pain at their obvious devotion to each other. He knew that it would be worse than murder to part them now. Why should he? It seemed such an easy and acceptable way out of his dilemma. But he feared that it would not satisfy all the lords, who wanted revenge. What could he do? He studied them. All of these men were for now secure upon their holdings. But they were in need of more wealth to rebuild what had been destroyed. Perhaps an appeal to their greed might induce them to relent.

  “I agree that Lord Mark, son of Leodegrance, should have the right to purchase the hostage for his own use if he so wishes. I set the price of her release as the weight of my sword and my shield, in gold.”

  There was a burst of outrage from the men in the circle. Arthur raised his hand for silence. “I have not finished. It will be distributed among myself and the lords here for use in repairing damages caused by the invaders. Is that acceptable to you all?”

  The lords were quiet, each one trying to compute his possible share. Arthur decided to take their silence as approval.

  “Very well,” he stated. “It is agreed. Mark, can you pay this amount for her?”

  Leodegrance stood. “I will guarantee this sum of gold for my son. He shall have it from his share of my estate.”

  “No,” Alswytha spoke for the first time to them all. “I can pay my own price. No one will say I had to be purchased. I come to him willingly.”

  She began fumbling with her brooches and the gold clasps on her braids. One by one, she pulled off her rings and bracelets, her arm bands and ankle clasps. She even laid her gold-leaf-covered shoes on the pile next to Arthur’s shield. At last she stood barefoot, clad in her shift and cape, with a heavy heap of gold before her.

  “I don’t think that will be enough,” Arthur said sadly. “You still have the weight of the sword to match.”

  Alswytha lifted the sword. It was steel and heavier than she thought. She thought a moment and then removed her cape, and placed it in Arthur’s lap.

  “This is worth more than all the gold before you,” she said. “It was stitched from the feathers of a thousand swans for the marriage of my great-grandmother to the King of the Geats. There is not another one in the world.”

  Arthur stroked it. He had never felt anything so soft before. Before anyone could protest he consented. “Done. I take this for my share and the rest you may divide as you will. I suggest that you let Master Merlin help you make the division equal.”

  He dismissed the assembly simply by rising from his chair and turning his back on it. Merlin beamed approval of his protege. Arthur was just glad that the whole thing was over. He wondered if Guinevere thought he had been too harsh or too lenient or if she had been watching him at all. He saw that she was with Alswytha and Mark. She was trying to wrap Alswytha in a spare blanket and Alswytha was explaining that she wasn’t shivering from the cold. It was only the relief.

  The formal meeting had dissolved into confusion. Everyone was talking at once. The lords were busy examining the gold and fighting over their shares and no longer paid any attention to Alswytha or Mark.

  Leodegrance and Guenlian watched the commotion without interest. Their thoughts were on Mark and the bride he had apparently chosen.

  “We have had him back only such a short time!” Guenlian protested.

  “I am not sure we had him back at all, my love. Arthur has told me that Mark did not even wish to see us again, that he is so bitter that he hates everyone, not just those who hurt him. I have watched him constantly the little time he has been with us.

  Arthur is right. He is disgusted with all men, with life itself. Who knows what it will take to make him want to join us again. We have seen men like that before, in the old days, when everything seemed to be crashing around us at once. That dinner when the Saxons invited all the great men of the realm and then slaughtered them. We were sick with grief and anger, but we didn’t want to die, too. We fought back, even when our whole life was slipping away from us and all those of our elders whom we loved had been slain. But do you remember Lucius? He was a man of sanity and reason, one of the most brilliant scholars I have ever known. You remember what he did when he heard that Theodoric had taken Rome?”

  Guenlian shuddered. “Poison in the wine glass. He couldn’t bear to live with a barbarian in control of Rome. And dear, gentle Monica went mad when she heard her husband had died, and murdered her own children rather than let them grow up in such a world. Why do you remind me of this now? Mark
would not do such a thing.”

  “I am not sure. I see them staring at me out of Mark’s eyes. My poor son! He was always the dreamer, the one who believed. He was the only one who understood why he had to fight. Matthew was my grandfather again, never happy unless he was in some kind of conflict, and John—we named him well—was too loving to despair. But they died and Mark lived, and he has had all these years to ponder and brood on it. We must not oppose him in this, Guenlian, or he may leave us again, forever.”

  Guenlian knew that he was right. Leodegrance had always been a sure judge of their sons’ minds. But to have this girl as her daughter-in-law! Always about, always reminding one of old wounds! Guenlian was not ready to cope with that, yet.

  “But she is a heathen, Leodegrance. She must be baptized and instructed in the faith before they are married. You don’t think Mark could object to that?”

  “We must ask him, dearest. We might even ask her. She surprised everyone, I think, except Sidra, by knowing our language. Perhaps she will be more receptive to our way of life than we think.”

  “Perhaps,” Guenlian sighed. “But whatever she does, she still cannot change her face.”

  Nevertheless, she resolved to be as kind to Alswytha as she could, and spoke hopefully that evening, when they were gathered in Guinevere’s room, of returning soon to the villa and preparing a proper wedding.

  Alswytha was upset by the suddenness with which her old family was taken from her forever and this new one supplied. At the council she had felt only relief and gratitude to Mark and joy at finding him again. She had had a confused idea of an idyllic life in a little wood hut, deep in the forest, just the two of them. It had never occurred to her that he might have a family, too. Now it seemed that they must be considered before she did anything. Mark was apparently related to every British family on the island. And this woman beside her, who rather frightened her, was proposing to invite all of them to see her married. Guinevere sat at her other side, listening and nodding as if it were all quite natural. Alswytha smiled and nodded and agreed with everything that was said, but she felt as if a giant cage were slowly being lowered over her head.