Guinevere's Tale

by Nicole Evelina

  I carefully examined Mayda, trying not to wake her. The blood had ceased flowing, and her body was quickly returning to normal with no signs of infection or complications. “Yes, but she will need much rest.”

  Udele nodded and gestured to one of the serving women, who handed me a heavy purse of coins. “For your trouble.”

  It would have been an insult not to accept, so I took the purse, thinking of how we could use the money to help the destitute citizens we encountered on the road, not to mention pay our host for his hospitality. But then another thought occurred to me. “Also for our silence?”

  Udele’s smile was wicked. “Of course. Now go, Queen Guinevere.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “You know who I am?”

  She shrugged and gestured toward my forehead. “Was guess. Others with mark stay with farmers, not crowned men. They have no slaves.” She cocked her head in Sobian’s direction.

  “Not many Aethelings bear their children in hovels,” I countered, praying Sobian’s theory was accurate.

  Udele—or Elga, as she was truly called—nearly dropped the baby in surprise. “How you know?”

  “When you said your sister’s name, it triggered a memory,” I said carefully, not wanting to reveal Sobian as my source of information, or worse, provoke Elga’s wrath. All she needed to do was call her guard, and we would have a bloody fight on our hands. I pressed on before she had a chance to react. “Elga, I mean you no harm. It is in each of our best interests to keep what has transpired tonight a secret. I swear to you I will do so if you will promise the same.”

  I hoped she would listen to me, knowing we were at a dangerous impasse. On one hand, she knew who I was and where our whole party was staying. If she but breathed my name, we would all be dead before dawn, and her people would have free reign over the country. But on the other, I knew her and her secret. All I needed to do was let it slip to our host where they were housed, and both Octha and Alle would be on their doorstep before they could flee. The brothers would undoubtedly kill their wives, whose family would seek revenge, sparking civil war and weakening them to the point where our forces could overtake them if they weren’t killed by their own.

  Elga gulped, mouth still open. “Why you help if you knew who we are? We are enemies.” Her tone betrayed she truly did not understand. Clearly, she would not have done the same if the roles were reversed.

  “I have taken vows to harm no one without cause,” I explained. “You gave me no provocation, only asked for my help. So I gave it.”

  “Now I am indebted to you,” she said bitterly, more to herself than to me.

  I shook my head. “No. If you keep my presence in the area a secret and let me pass through unharmed, there is no debt. I am not here for political reasons, and I will not harm or disturb a single one of your people. Know that unless you attack us, I am your ally.”

  The baby began to cry hungrily, and Elga looked at him as though she had forgotten his existence. The familiar hard look returned to her features. “You say nothing of this.” Then she cocked an eyebrow and added, “No proof anyhow.”

  I shivered again, sensing the menace in her words. “It will be as though this night never happened.”

  “Yes. I swear you not be harmed, Queen Guinevere.”

  I backed slowly out of the room, listening to the child wail. As soon as Sobian and I were safely on the other side of the door, I breathed a sigh of relief. I signaled to Kay it was time to depart and he shoved off with a final glance at his stone-faced counterpart.

  We had walked only a short distance when the crying became an ear-splitting screech, was muffled, then suddenly stopped. That was not the sound of a suckling babe. The silence was too complete. I began to shake and sank to my knees as Elga’s warning rang in my ears—“no proof anyhow.” I turned and threw the pouch at the closed door, where it exploded in a shower of silver coins. I could not accept money tainted by the shadow of death no matter how noble my intentions for it.

  I turned to the side of the path and retched, grieving for the murdered child and the naive mother who had never gotten to hold him.

  I told no one what had transpired with Elga and her sister. It appeared she was true to her word as well for we continued on into Dyfed in peace as though nothing had ever taken place. Now Caer Corbenic stretched out before us like the peak of a mountain on the horizon. It was strange to view it from afar, sprawling on the top of a cliff overlooking the sea. It was so much more imposing now despite the fact that this time, I approached its gates a free woman. Somehow the specter of the past still loomed, surrounding me in a chill as damp and pervasive as the mist and spray of the waves breaking on the rocky shore below.

  I took a deep breath, willing this to be a peaceful reunion. The last time I had seen Elaine—six years earlier—was at the feast where Arthur proposed to me rather than to her as we had both expected. For as long as I lived, I would never forget the depth of sorrow etched into her features that night, a macabre combination of disappointment and jealousy. I had what she wanted, and she, in not being chosen, had failed to meet her mother’s high expectations yet again. Combined with the heartbreak she had suffered when Isolde fled to Ireland with Elaine’s betrothed, a roguish Pict named Galen—an act Elaine wrongly believed I had also played a part in—I feared she would never forgive me.

  Elaine was waiting for us at the entrance to the great hall, dressed in black and clearly in mourning for her father. Despite the grief etched into her features, Elaine had grown into a beautiful woman. The intervening years had rounded her once-childish body into womanly curves and transformed the plump plains of her face into soft, delicate features.

  No word of a wedding or birth had reached us at Camelot, so I was surprised to see she held the hand of a small boy, maybe five years old, with curly blond hair and eyes so clear and icy blue he looked more fey than human. He was unquestionably hers so closely did he resemble his mother, but the eyes were a gift from someone else.

  “Guinevere, thank you for coming,” Elaine said before remembering herself and dropping into a low curtsy. “I mean, my queen.”

  As Elaine repeated her obeisance to Arthur, not daring to look him in the eye, the sparkling emerald she wore at her throat—the gift Arthur had given her at that ill-fated dinner—drooped low, brushing the neckline of her gown.

  Arthur touched Elaine’s hand and bid her rise. “My lady, I wish our visit were under more joyful circumstances. Your father was a great man, one of the best in the realm. I only regret we could not be present at his funerary rites.”

  Elaine’s smile was tinged with sadness. “I have no doubt he knew of your great respect for him.” Only now did she dare meet Arthur’s eyes. “My lord, before you retire, may I present to you my son, Galahad. It is my dream he may one day be a member of your Combrogi and be of great service to Camelot.”

  Arthur bowed with exaggerated formality to the boy. “Galahad, I am pleased to meet you.” He laid the hollow of his palm on the boy’s forehead. “Remember you carry the blessing of your high king with you always. I look forward to the day I can welcome you to my court.”

  Elaine blushed like a flower in full bloom at the compliment.

  Galahad responded by bowing to his king. “It is my honor, my lord.”

  Elaine had trained him well.

  “I must help Lancelot with horses,” Arthur excused himself. “May Lord Galahad accompany me?”

  One look at her son’s hopeful expression and Elaine consented. Galahad took Arthur’s hand and walked to the stables at his side. They reminded me so much of the son I had lost and the father Arthur was to Mordred—and could have been to my own son—it took all the strength I possessed not to cry.

  Sensing my pain, Elaine put an arm around me and led me inside. “I think we both grieve,” she said gently as we took seats near the fire.

  “Indeed. I mourn your father’s
loss yet find you blessed with a child.”

  Elaine’s cheeks colored. “Yes, he was quite unexpected.” She twisted a large enameled ring on the middle finger of her left hand. “But he is the child my father always knew I would have, the child of the prophecy, and my father lived to see him born and proclaim him his heir.” There was a note of pride in her voice.

  My lips parted in surprise. “Galahad is your father’s heir? What about your older brothers? Will they not contest losing their lands and title to a child?”

  Elaine’s lips twisted into a cheerless smile. “They can try, but the people of our tribe, I daresay all of Dyfed, are well aware of the prophecy and have voiced their agreement he should be chieftain when he comes of age. Besides, my mother has declared herself ruler until that time, and none of my brothers will dare stand against her.”

  “I wouldn’t either,” I muttered, remembering Lyonesse’s cruelty all too clearly.

  Elaine was silent for a while as if contemplating something. Then she reached behind her and unclasped her necklace. She held it out to me, the large emerald winking in the sunlight.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  “A peace offering. Arthur should have given it to you that night.”

  “Elaine, I cannot accept this. It was his gift to you.”

  Elaine laid her hand over mine and gave it a gentle squeeze, letting the jewel fall into my palm. “Now I am giving it to you. I never apologized for accusing you of being complicit in Galen’s betrayal or for not speaking to you all these years. I had no right—”

  I slipped my hand out from under hers and held up a finger to silence her. “Elaine, you were heartbroken. I understand why you said what you did, but I’ve long forgotten it.”

  “But I—I am truly sorry. I want you to know I bear you no ill will.”

  I shook my head. “Let us not speak of it. There is nothing to forgive.”

  Elaine bit her lip as though she doubted my sincerity, but she kept her council.

  “Your boy is quite fine, Elaine,” I said.

  “Thank you.” She glanced over her shoulder as if to make certain it was just us in the room. “I was hoping to talk to you about his future.”

  She looked at me with wide, expectant eyes, the way she had since we were children and she had something to say but wished I could read her mind so she would not have to give it voice.

  “What is it, Elaine?”

  She dropped her gaze to her lap and twisted her skirt nervously. After a long pause, she spoke, voice shaking as the words spilled over one another. “May I be so bold as to ask to come live at court with you and the king? I—I fear remaining at court with my mother.” Elaine rolled up the sleeve of her gown as she spoke, revealing a ring of purple bruises just below her right elbow. “She did not dare touch me while I was pregnant for fear of hurting my child, but now she does as she wills. I know she will never harm him, blessed by heaven as he is, but I am another matter. Normally I would offer my sufferings up to God as I have always done, but I cannot—not anymore.”

  She finally raised her eyes to meet mine. There was fear behind them mingled with sorrow. I looked closer at the bruises, seeing them clearly now. They were imprints from where Lyonesse’s fingers had dug into Elaine’s arm as though Lyonesse had pulled on her as she sought to flee.

  I swallowed hard, remembering the day Lyonesse had slapped her grieving daughter, blaming her for Galen’s misdeeds, and another day when Isolde showed me the crossing welts on her back after a whipping from Lyonesse in retribution for speaking against her.

  There was no question in my mind, nor did I need to consult Arthur. “You and your son are always welcome at Camelot. I would be happy to have you as a lady of my court.”

  “Please do not tell my mother this was my idea.”

  “Of course not. My invitation was part of my reason for paying you a personal visit.” I said it as gravely as I could muster, nodding for emphasis. In that moment, we were once again co-conspirators in a secret plot, just as in our youth, and I could easily let the years slip away and imagine our lives had yet to unfold before us.

  Changeable as ever, when Elaine looked at me again, her expression was somber. “I know you must be wondering who my husband is, but please know I cannot tell you. We are wed in the eyes of God, but though he is a just and upright man, he wishes not to acknowledge me, and my mother has forbidden me to name him on pain of death. Suffice it to say that though he is a nobleman, he has not the lineage my mother would prefer and therefore is not to be mentioned.”

  I nodded, feeling the long-forgotten, but somehow familiar, twinge of unwanted complicity that came with Corbenic’s web of lies and ever-changing ruses. “We shall put it about that your husband is an emissary who spends much of his time abroad. That way no one will ask too many questions.”

  Elaine bit her lip again. “He is one of Arthur’s knights. That much is safe to say.”

  My stomach dropped. Who? I desperately wanted to ask. Did she mean one of the Combrogi or any of Arthur’s fighting men? If so, there were hundreds.

  “Oh, Elaine, I do not believe that is a wise thing to say even if it is true. You have no understanding of the perils of life at court. Friendly though they may appear, everyone is looking for an advantage, and if they find one, you will be undone—have no doubt. Court gossip can turn the smallest grain of sand into a valuable pearl. By dangling such a bit of information in front of them, you will be inviting the wolves to your door.”

  “The Lord commands us not to lie. I will tell the truth to the extent I am able and still uphold my vows to my husband and mother. They are the only ones who know the truth, and I am certain they will not reveal it.” She squared her shoulders and looked down her nose at me with an unyielding gaze.

  It would have been easier to bid a statue come to life than to sway her now. I just wished she knew the peril she could be creating for herself and her son, especially if his father chose not to acknowledge him too. Selfishly, I was glad the scandalmongers would have a new subject upon our return.

  Before I had a chance to reply, a maid poked her head in and curtsied. “Forgive me for interrupting, but Lady Lyonesse is ready to receive you.”

  “We have been summoned,” I muttered. “Some things never change.”

  I made to follow, but Elaine stopped me with a brief embrace. “Thank you. I cannot speak for my son, but I know your kindness has saved my life.”

  Arthur and I decided to hold a pleading day at Corbenic to give the southern people a chance to speak with us without having to traverse the country to reach Camelot. Notices were sent by messenger to the surrounding kingdoms, and a week later, residents from Dyfed, Dyfnaint, and the Summer Country presented their cases to us.

  I had forgotten how boring pleading day could be. After doing this for six years, each complaint sounded like the last. One chieftain had raided another’s cattle, a merchant had swindled someone in the market, a farmer’s daughter had proved herself to be of questionable virtue. I barely heard most of the requests as they came through. Even Arthur was meting out justice by rote. I was ashamed to admit it, but by noontime, I was playing a mental game to see if I could guess the punishment Arthur would give out as soon as the crime was described.

  But my boredom was not meant to last. Not long after we resumed our afternoon session, a clamor arose in the hall. A woman was shouting at our men in a guttural tongue that sounded vaguely familiar.

  Arthur must have understood them because he chuckled. “Guards, stand down and let the woman enter.”

  I leaned over and whispered in his ear, “What did she say to them?”

  “She called them dogs and told them to let her go or she would personally ensure Freya would remove their testicles and feed them to them.”

  “A Saxon then?”

  Arthur looked up as the doors opened, the woman still str
uggling to shake off the guards. “Not just any Saxon.”

  The woman finally wrenched herself free only to trip and land on her knees at our feet, an obsequious posture I doubt she ever intended. It was only when she raised her chin to us that I recognized her.

  “Mayda!” I exclaimed.

  “Ja.”

  Arthur arched an eyebrow. “Have you met?”

  I realized only then that I had never told him of my encounter with the princesses on our way to the Summer Country.

  Mayda saved me from having to explain. “Ja. Your queen provided me a great service. I will be forever in her debt—a deficit I hope to repay in part today.”

  I was startled by how well she spoke our tongue, much better than her elder sister.

  “Mayda, why have you come here? Who else knows you are here?” Arthur asked.

  “I come to give you warning. My husband brings an army to overthrow the mountain. He and his brother have allied to win a victory they say will make them dominant forevermore.”

  Arthur tensed and brought a fist up to his lips. “What mountain?”

  “They called it Bay-don.”

  “Badon.” Arthur slammed his fist on his thigh and cursed. “Who sent you here? Why are you telling us?”

  Mayda cowered in fear. “They do not know. They cannot know. If they know, if she knows”—Mayda gave me a look that I could only assume meant her sister—“I am dead.” Her eyes were wild and scared like a trapped bunny’s.

  She looked to me for reassurance, but I had none to give. I was still too shocked to be certain whether she was telling the truth or not.

  Arthur spoke to me as he considered the frightened girl at his feet. “If she is telling the truth, then they intend to take the fort above Aque Sullis. If they do, they will control the Sabrina Estuary and split the country in two.” He turned back to Mayda. “How long do we have?”

  She scrunched up her nose as she calculated. “They were still planning when I left them. But they must know I am gone by now. If they suspect, they will move all the faster. I would guess a week, no more.”