Guinevere's Tale

by Nicole Evelina

  Just before I left the fortress for the town, Arthur broke away from a conversation with Kay, Bedivere, and Malegant to catch my arm.

  “Since you have not yet named your champion and have no one to guard you, you should take one of my men with you,” he said.

  “Why? I can defend myself if need be.”

  Arthur looked down, scratching the base of his neck. “Oh, I am well aware. But it’s not just you I am concerned with.” He placed a hand on my belly. “We have enemies all around, my love. I would feel better knowing you had someone watching over you. Plus, you could devote more of your attention to listening to the people if you didn’t need to constantly be on your guard.”

  “He makes a valid point,” Kay put in.

  “I volunteer to accompany you, my queen,” Malegant interjected with a slight bow and a gracious smile.

  “Do you now? And why should I choose you over the other men here?”

  “Because I speak three languages and am knowledgeable in trade from the diversity of my own kingdom. Think of me more as an advisor.”

  “One with a very sharp sword.” Arthur snickered.

  “Indeed. Plus, it will give us the chance to get to know one another better. After all, I too am one of your loyal subjects.” Malegant’s eyes sparkled with mirth.

  I laughed despite myself. “That is what I asked for, is it not? Very well.” I eyed Malegant with mock suspicion. “But do not get in my way,” I teased.

  It didn’t take Malegant long to prove his worth. By noon, he had already physically turned away one man whom he’d deemed a threat to my safety, discussed the competitive price of shellfish up and down the coast with a fishmonger, and by nightfall had taught a young apprentice how to load amphore without spilling the contents.

  “How does the Lord of the Summer Country know such things?” I asked the next day as we wandered through the town again.

  Malegant raised a tawny eyebrow at me. “Do you think I’ve spent my years only yelling commands and counting my wealth? I have had many adventures, lived many lives.” He took my forearm and guided me through a particularly crowded lane. “You see, my family has a bit of a turbulent past. When my father was killed, I was forced to flee my tribe and seek fosterage elsewhere. When I came of age, I had the skill but not the power to defeat those who sought my blood. So I worked where I could, learning and gaining respect as I went. Now I know a little about a great many things.”

  With his vast knowledge, Malegant became an advisor to the people in addition to my personal guard. We spent many mornings together, seeking to learn the ways of those who lived in the shadow of Camelot.

  Once the rains ended and seeds were sown, the market returned, and I spent most of my spare time among the milling crowds, visiting vendors from the surrounding countryside. I quickly learned it was they, not the townspeople, who were the most reliable source of information. Free of Camelot’s walls, they came bearing news from three kingdoms in every direction.

  Those glorious, sun-dappled spring mornings, when the harbor breeze carried the scent of lilacs and salt and the world felt full of possibilities, were also perfect for loosening lips as everyone wanted to bask in the sunshine and spread the latest gossip. In one morning, I learned from a woman selling freshly picked greens that Morgan had given birth to a son, a tanner told me of rumors that a new Christian missionary was due in town, and a hunter setting up shop to peddle his pelts relayed that the Saxons were recruiting any mercenaries and outlaws they could find. That was chilling confirmation of what Arthur’s spies had long suspected. Arthur’s attempts at diplomacy had failed; soon there would again be war.

  But that was not the only disturbance pricking at my mind. Malegant’s behavior was beginning to concern me. When he’d first taken to defending me from those who would clamor for a piece of their queen––those who rushed at me or if a crowd pressed in too close––I attributed his zeal to overprotection. But as the weeks passed, I noted he was enjoying his role of enforcer a little too much, sometimes shoving and tossing men aside when a polite word would have done.

  When I spoke to him of it, he promised to reign in his temper, but I wondered if he could hold to it, especially after the heated argument he had instigated that very morning with another nobleman who offered to take his place at my side.

  The memory was still fresh in my mind when a group of young men, chieftains’ sons judging by their finery, called to Malegant to join them in the alehouse.

  Malegant waved them off. “I’m afraid that must wait for another time. For today I am the queen’s protector.”

  All eyes turned to me. It didn’t take long for one of the boys to kneel, his friends following suit. The first looked familiar, tall and lanky with big brown eyes that made him appear younger than he likely was. Something in his awkward gestures tugged at my memory. Perhaps we had met before.

  “Please, my lords, rise. I do not require such gestures every time someone lays eyes on me.”

  They stood, and the tallest ambled over to Malegant. “How does Pudicitia Fur become the queen’s guardian?” He elbowed Malegant. “Who did you have to bribe to get that position?”

  I turned to Malegant, who had gone rigid, his nostrils flaring. “These are your friends, yet they call you ‘the virtue thief’? Pray tell me how you came by that name.”

  “He is known for taking what he wants,” one of the men answered for Malegant, either not catching or ignoring the joke in my voice.

  “That’s an understatement,” snorted another. “Liked Fiona so much he stole her right out from under her father’s nose.”

  The familiar man tensed. “You speak of my sister. Show some respect,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “I could say the same to you,” Malegant stated. “Show your betters their due, Fergus.”

  Fergus. It all clicked into place. The familiar man before me was the grown-up version of the Powys boy to whom Lord Evrain had tried to match me nearly two years earlier. Being the youngest son, he was of lower rank than Malegant, who ruled his own kingdom, thus Fergus was expected to demonstrate deference.

  “You are no better than I and certainly not worthy of Fiona,” Fergus growled.

  “Hey, little pup, don’t get your hackles up over me,” Malegant taunted.

  “Gentlemen, that is enough,” I warned them.

  Fergus paid me no heed, advancing on Malegant. “And why not? You kidnapped my sister, forced her to marry you, and now you ensure her allegiance through fear. I’ve seen her bruises. I know what you do to her. What you’ve done to them all.”

  I didn’t like the way this was going. Soon they would come to blows. I should have just left them to it for it was no business of mine what they did, but Fergus’s words stirred something in the back of my mind. What was it the priestess had said when I first sighted Malegant outside of Avalon all those years ago—that he had sullied more than one priestess and was not to be trusted?

  Malegant leaned toward Fergus, so close his breath stirred Fergus’s beard. “Be careful what you say, boy, or I shall be forced to put you in your place.”

  “And where is that? At the bottom of a bog with your last wife?”

  Malegant’s face turned scarlet. Before I could step between them, he was grappling with Fergus like a wrestler. His friends were no help; rather than helping me break up the fight, they cheered Malegant and Fergus on.

  A crowd gathered around us, yelling and placing bets, as I looked for an opening to put an end to this childish behavior. Malegant knocked Fergus to the ground and landed a blow to his gut. Fergus kicked back, and I was able to wedge myself between them, shoving hard at the shoulders of both men.

  “That is enough, both of you. You are lords in your own right, not children.” I shouted Fergus and his friends away. “Go on about your business. If you don’t, I will have you imprisoned for endangering my welfare.”


  The three of them scampered into the crowd.

  I turned to Malegant. “I shall require a new protector, one who can hold his temper. Rest assured Arthur will hear of this. You have proven yourself an embarrassment to the crown.”

  Malegant opened his mouth, presumably to defend himself, but I didn’t let him.

  “Move,” I commanded the onlookers, who dutifully parted to let me through.

  As I stormed back to the castle, I was certain of two things: Arthur would not deal kindly with Malegant’s transgression and Malegant’s anger toward me would take a long time to flare out. He was a proud man, and I had just publicly shamed him. Were I any other woman, I might have feared his wrath, but my position protected me from any revenge he might seek. Or so I chose to believe.

  Chapter Four

  Summer 497

  Combrogi—that’s what he called them. It was an ancient word meaning “fellow countrymen,” but to Arthur, it meant much more. Those men were his most trusted advisors, his brothers. They were also the strongest warriors in the land. Led by twelve prime members, each represented his own tribe and took Arthur’s decrees back to their lords. It was a relationship based in mutual trust. He hid nothing from them and listened to their thoughts, in return expecting them to respect his decisions and be open with their opinions. If that bond were broken, so too would be the tenuous peace that united us as one land.

  They were more than a war council and something other than a team of advisors. Together the decisions the Combrogi made had to take into account the temperament of their lords, the needs of the peasants, threats from within and outside our borders, and still reconcile conflicts between generals in such a way they would supply Arthur’s needs for men, horses, and supplies.

  As queen, I was now one of them, attending my first of their quarterly meetings held on each of the solar festivals. The Combrogi gathered in Arthur’s circular meeting hall, the area I had mistaken for a shrine on my first day at Camelot. Arthur and I sat in thrones raised slightly above the other seats. All others were equal in their places. A few chairs stood empty, waiting for the return of men who were out on assignments for the king.

  Today my father occupied one of the open spaces. He was not technically a member of the Combrogi, but since he was visiting, he had insisted on sitting in. Arthur wasn’t pleased by this, but because Northgallis’s support would be crucial in the upcoming war, he’d acquiesced. He had, however, drawn the line at allowing Father Marius to accompany my father. Arthur had explained that not even Merlin attended these meetings and if Leodgrance felt the need for spiritual direction, he could obtain it in private, just as Arthur did.

  As Gawain began his report on how the adoption of the stirrups and chainmail was progressing, I caught sight of a shadow drifting from left to right, right to left beneath the chamber doors. If I listened closely, I could hear the almost imperceptible sweep of fabric across the stones followed at even intervals by the whisper of Latin.

  Marius. I smiled. It must have been killing him to wait outside, two armed guards barring his entrance. At least this was the last time he’d darken our doors for a while. He was leaving for Rome in the morning, called there by the leader of his religion to report on the spread of Christianity in our fair isle. With any luck, they would keep him there.

  “The men are adapting to the new armor much better than the horses are to the new saddle and stirrup, my lord,” Gawain was saying when my attention returned to the room. “We are having some difficultly training them to it.”

  “Perhaps if you didn’t beat them into submission, they would respect you rather than fear you,” I answered, temper rising quickly.

  Horses were sacred to my family as a symbol of the Goddess. Call her Epona, Rhiannon, or any other name, horses were her animals, and I could not bear to see them harmed. I had never seen them mistreated until I came here. In Gwynedd, we loved our horses, letting them warm to us, and earned their trust over time. What resulted was a lifelong bond that was broken only by death. During one of the Irish attacks, I had even seen a horse turn on an enemy soldier when his rider was threatened.

  In contrast, these northern men knew no way to get an animal to do their bidding other than to break its spirit. Horses, oxen, dogs—it didn’t matter; they wanted to dominate them all with whips and brands. I suspected they used the same tactics on their women.

  I had hoped my position would help end their barbaric practices, but I could do little to make Arthur see reason. I had even demonstrated to the Combrogi how I’d learned to train my own horse and showed them how he could be taught to tolerate the modified saddle. But my advice had fallen on deaf ears, and the reason was always the same—“It takes too much time. Time we do not have.”

  Arthur shot me a reproachful look. “Guinevere, we have discussed this. If anyone can show me an effective way to tame the stallions that does not take months of work, I will gladly employ his methods, but until then, we must continue with what we know. It is imperative that both horse and rider learn to accommodate our new offenses as quickly as possible.”

  Gawain wisely moved on to another subject before I could respond. But he wasn’t talking for long before the chamber doors burst open and my heart stopped. Sweeping through the door with great agitation was my former fiancé, followed by a man whose angelic gaze took my breath away.

  Aggrivane bowed before Arthur, ignoring me completely. “Your Majesty, my lords, I apologize for the interruption. But word reached me you were looking for this man.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Lancelot. “I have found him, and I now happily deliver him to you.”

  Something in Aggrivane’s voice told me he was still smarting from Lancelot’s victory at the tournament in Dyfed two summers before. The pair had obviously not bonded on their journey here.

  Lancelot bowed, first to me then to Arthur. “I am pleased to be of service to you, High King. Please tell me how I may help.” His accent made every word sound as though it tumbled on a light breeze.

  Arthur gestured for the two men to sit. The only empty chairs left were on either side of Tristan, directly opposite me, so I had no choice but to look at the two of them. Lancelot smiled warmly at me, but Aggrivane still refused to acknowledge my presence.

  Arthur addressed Aggrivane. “I thank you for doing what no other of my subjects seem capable of—” He nodded at Lancelot. “Harnessing the wind. As a gesture of my thanks, Aggrivane, you may take a place among my Combrogi, if you wish.”

  I stopped breathing. No, no, no, no, no. This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Arthur knew our history. He couldn’t be so thick as to name Aggrivane one of his most trusted men, could he?

  But then I remembered Arthur’s deal with Lot, who had led an unsuccessful rebellion shortly after Arthur came to power. As punishment, Lot’s sons were forever under Arthur’s control, and Arthur preferred to keep them as close as possible. I let out a silent sigh, sagging in my chair. It looked as though I would have to get used to having my former lover around, something I was not comfortable with. As much as I had learned to be happy with Arthur, part of my heart still belonged to Aggrivane.

  Aggrivane looked at Arthur with great surprise. Apparently he hadn’t expected so kind a reception either. “My Lord, I am honored to accept.”

  Arthur narrowed his eyes to steely darts directed at Aggrivane. “My offer is, of course, based on the provision that you have kept your word to me.”

  I looked from the man I’d thought would be my husband to the one who was. As far as I knew, they hadn’t seen one another since the night Arthur proposed to me and sent my life crashing down around me. I had no idea what promise Arthur could have extracted from Aggrivane.

  Arthur’s features relaxed as Aggrivane nodded slowly. “Good. I look forward to seeing proof of your fidelity.” He turned his attention to Lancelot. “I assume my lord Lothian has told you I have taken
your advice on how to improve our forces? You are well-known for your skill with horses, are you not?”

  “Oui,” Lancelot answered, somewhat perplexed.

  “Then you will join us in the stable yard at noon. We are all eager to see what you can do.” Arthur banged his fist on the table three times, and the meeting was adjourned.

  “What did he mean, ‘proof of your fidelity?’” I demanded as the door boomed shut behind me.

  Aggrivane didn’t look up from where he sat, drinking deeply from a cup of what smelled like strong red wine. The shutters were shut, blocking out the daylight, so the only illumination came from the fire pit. But in that subtle glow, I saw him wince.

  “Why do you not ask him yourself? He is your husband.” The words were forced through gritted teeth.

  “Aggrivane, do not do this. Do not behave like this,” I begged.

  “How am I behaving? Like a jilted lover? No, I have no right to that title.”

  His sarcasm stung. I crossed my arms defensively, as if to ward off his anger.

  “Tell me, how long after I left that night did it take you to fall into his arms? Or his bed?”

  I ignored his question. “Need I remind you that you left me? You left me to face my unwanted fate all alone. The least you could have done was stand by my side and fight for me.”

  He wrenched the cork from a bottle and poured himself another glass of wine without looking up. “What good would that have done? He is High King. I am nothing in comparison. From what I hear, your fate was sealed long before that night. You were never intended to be with me.”

  “Arthur was not aware of our relationship. Did you know that?”

  Aggrivane met my gaze then, apparently speechless.

  “If you had stayed, if we had faced him together, none of this would have happened. We might be together now.”