Guinevere's Tale

by Nicole Evelina

  Even though he had been at court since the tournament where Arthur and I met, Peredur would always be to me the boy who had shed no tears as I bid him farewell before leaving for Avalon. I still remembered the sweet smell of his hair—like fresh clover—as he pressed his wooden dog into my hand, telling me the creature was magic. I never saw Peredur’s father again after I departed for Avalon. He had been killed in service to Uther’s army by the Saxons. And now Peredur was here, mourning the loss of his other parent at their merciless hands.

  It was Peredur who roused me from my reflections. With great solemnity, he presented us with Octavia’s memorial, a necklace of coins from her native Rome.

  “My mother wore this around her neck when she fled from Rome. It was all she had in the world when she joined your family,” Peredur whispered. “It is only right she should have it on her journey to the next life.”

  I took the necklace, not pausing to examine the coins. I didn’t want to think about her life before I knew her, how she must have suffered as a lone woman, hardly more than a child, traveling any way she could—by caravan, boat, or on foot—to put as much distance as possible between herself and her native land, where her whole family had been killed by the invading Visigoths. She had told me the story many times, but in the naïveté of my youth, I thought it a tale of grand adventure rather than grim reality.

  I took Peredur’s hand. “Your mother was so much more than a servant to me. She was my nursemaid, my teacher, and my closest confidante. Losing her was like losing my mother all over again. My heart will never heal from that wound. There is little I can do to comfort you now except tell you this—she died peacefully.” I tried to choke back my emotions, but the tears broke free anyway, and my voice faltered. “In—in my arms. She did not speak, but her eyes said volumes. They shined with love, love for both of you, for the life she was leaving. She spent her entire life caring for me, and she died defending me. You should be proud.”

  Nimue’s head snapped up.

  I was startled to see not grief in her haunting eyes but pure, cold hatred.

  “Proud? We should be proud she died doing her duty—defending her mistress? She never had a choice to follow you. She did as she was bid and died in bondage.”

  “What are you saying?” I stammered.

  Her green eyes narrowed, hard as chips of ice. “Do you really not know? My mother was a slave.” She scoffed at my shocked reaction. “Yes, a slave. Your father didn’t welcome her with open arms out of some sense of charity. He bought her on the docks. She may not have told you, but the boat that brought her to Gwynedd was a slave ship. She was captured in Gaul. The friendship you hold so dear was nothing more than duty, pure and simple.”

  “Nimue,” Arthur said gently but firmly, “I saw Octavia’s love for Guinevere firsthand. It was no sense of duty. Who told you such lies? Surely she did not admit this to you herself. No mother would debase herself so to her children.”

  “The Lady herself told me, and she speaks the truth.”

  Arthur shook his head. “Even the Lady of the Lake can be mistaken.”

  Nimue’s gaze flickered between Arthur, Peredur, and me as she weighed the plausibility of Arthur’s words.

  Peredur squeezed his sister’s hand. “Does it really matter, little rose? Our mother is dead either way. We are here to mourn her with our friends, and I for one would rather the focus of her legacy be on the good she has done.”

  “She died a hero and a free woman. As high queen, I declare that here and now. Whatever the truth, I release Octavia from all bondage. If not for her bravery, you would be mourning me at this moment. I will forever be in her debt and therefore in yours. Name your price. What is it I can do to help ease your loss?”

  Peredur and Nimue looked at one another. I doubted they would ask for monetary compensation for they both had fruitful lives, he as part of Arthur’s army and a Combrogi-in-training and she as a daughter of Avalon.

  “Erect a memorial stone here and at Camelot in her honor,” Peredur declared. “They will ensure she is remembered as she should be. That is all we ask of you.”

  “It will be done,” Arthur and I said in unison.

  Peredur and Nimue melted back into the crowd, though I caught Nimue watching Merlin closely as he sang a eulogy for the dead. Having their song proclaimed at the royal court by the Archdruid and chief bard of Britain was the highest honor that could be bestowed upon any subject. His song would be taught to all other bards and repeated in halls and hovels throughout the kingdom so the legacy of those heroes would remain as long as memory prevailed. No one would forget those who had fallen in the battle of Mount Badon.

  The following day, we gathered in the great hall with the members of the Combrogi and Mount Badon’s remaining men. We formed a smaller group, more intimate than the grieving rite, because Arthur wanted to bestow his honors on those who’d experienced the battle away from the prying eyes of courtiers and others intent only on spreading gossip.

  Clustered among the sea of men were Sobian and her remaining women. As usual, though they certainly didn’t blend in, they were right at home. Also as usual, Gawain was flirting with Sobian, who looked on the verge of punching him. Fortunately, before things could escalate any further, Arthur began his speech from the same dais we had occupied the day before.

  “I would have preferred to hold these honors in our council chambers at Camelot, in the sight of my ancestors, but under the circumstances, this is the best alternative.” His smile was a beam of light warming the entire room. “First, I would like to thank all of you for your service to your king and country. As we noted yesterday, there is no greater sacrifice than to give one’s life for one’s country. But you, all of you, risked your lives and survived to fight another day. And for that, I will hold you forever in my heart.”

  He reached down to me, and I grasped his hand. He pulled me up next to him as though I weighed no more than a feather. “First, I wish to acknowledge my wife, the first battle queen in several generations to lead her people in times of conflict. If not for her bravery and skill, the fight would have been over before it had begun.” He took my hand and kissed it. “My love, you have my eternal gratitude and, I daresay, the respect of everyone in this room.”

  Morgan glared at me—a sure sign I’d gained no respect from her—but the Combrogi’s cheer was deafening. Arthur spun me around, and they smiled at me. Lancelot jumped up and placed a ring of leaves on my head.

  “They aren’t laurel, but this was the best I could do this time of year,” he whispered before kissing my cheek and hopping back down. I prayed no one else could see the blush his act had produced.

  “Gentlemen, gentlemen, calm down. There’s more celebration yet to be had. The second person I wish to honor is Aggrivane.” He sought out my former lover in the crowd. “Please come forth and receive your due.”

  Aggrivane hesitated only a moment before being propelled forward by the shouting men. He scrambled onto the dais with surprising grace.

  “My friend,” Arthur addressed him with the ease of a comrade-in-arms, “I really should arrest you for treason for you disobeyed a direct order. But you are Lot’s son, so I should not be surprised.”

  A low chuckle rumbled through the assembly.

  “If not for your wisdom, hundreds of Saxons would have escaped,” Arthur added. “Tell me, how did you think of pursuing the ships before the overland riders?”

  “Call it learning from past mistakes.” He gave Sobian a barely perceptible nod. “There have been other battles where I was not as well advised, nor our men as fortunate. Luckily, the gods gave me a second chance.”

  “Indeed!” Arthur boomed. “For your creative tactics, you may take your place with your father, reporting directly to him. I name you now Second Council of Strategy.”

  The men erupted into cheers again as Aggrivane expressed his thanks.

&nbs
p; “Settle down,” Arthur chided. “There are many others among you who deserve our praise. Sobian, known formerly as the Scourge of the Sidhe, please come forth.”

  Sobian wound through the throng of men followed by the five other women who had survived through Badon with her.

  Despite my initial misgivings about her and her place at court, she had saved my life twice now—first in rescuing me from Malegant and again in this battle—and over time I had grown to care for her. “Thank you,” I whispered in her chestnut hair as we embraced. “I owe you my life.”

  She pulled back as if stung. “You owe me nothing. I swore my allegiance to you. I did nothing more than any of these men would do in similar circumstances.”

  Arthur had listened to our exchange, though I was fairly certain the rest of the room had not heard it. “Oh, but you did. Your actions were anything but commonplace. These men here”—he gestured to the room at large—“are paid to use their bravery and skill against any enemies to the crown. You and your fellow female warriors are different. You volunteered to be in harm’s way. You offered your swords, spears, and lives when you saw a need. If that isn’t the true definition of bravery, I don’t know what is.”

  Sobian nodded, standing even taller now.

  Arthur continued. “As if that were not enough, your battalion took on all comers. Some of your women are not here to celebrate with us, but we honor them the same. I am told that among the dozen of you, you killed nearly thirty Saxons. Is that true?”

  “Well, I didn’t stop to count them,” she said with a sly smile and glittering black eyes. “If I had, you’d be talking to a corpse.”

  I laughed along with several of the men. That was the fiery spirit I had come to admire in this pirate-spy-turned-heroine.

  “Indeed, you are right,” Arthur admitted. “But that was not your only service to the crown. You stood guard over the queen as she nursed a dying friend. You are the reason we are here today rather than mourning her. As we all know now, you are more than the maid you appeared to be. There is little I can do to repay such a service, but I will try. I offer you a boon. Name what it is you wish, and it shall be granted.”

  A few gasps broke the silence, but no one seemed to know what to say. For a king to offer a boon was almost unheard of except for in legend.

  Sobian, normally so cool and collected, was clearly stunned. She stood perfectly still, oblivious to the waiting crowd. Her lips were parted as though she intended to speak, but no words formed. Then she blinked, and her face took on a quizzical expression as though she were weighing her options, deciding if her request was likely to be granted. The crowd shifted, waiting impatiently to hear what she demanded.

  Finally, Sobian fixed Arthur in a resolute gaze. “I wish to become a member of the Combrogi.”

  The room went completely silent. Sobian’s girls looked between one another in utter shock. Then the yelling began.

  “A woman cannot be part of the Combrogi!” asserted a deep voice I thought I recognized as Bors’s.

  “Indeed,” another agreed. “Does the word not mean ‘fellow countrymen?’”

  “You’re going to quibble over the word’s origin?” Lancelot challenged. “Does your name not mean ‘exotic’? Then why are you Bor-ing?” He chuckled at his own quip, which infuriated Bors all the more.

  “It cannot be done! It shall not be done, not while I live,” Bors roared, emerging from the crowd and jamming his dagger into the wood at Sobian’s feet with a violence that made the dais visibly shake.

  Sobian did not even flinch. In one fluid movement, she grasped the dagger and jumped down, knocking Bors onto his back. She landed in a crouch on his chest, dagger at his throat. “Shall I kill you now so I can claim what is mine?”

  Arthur motioned for her to stand down. “There is no need for that. Sobian has made her request, and under the terms I freely laid forth, I must grant it. If any of you”—he narrowed his gaze on Bors—“feel so strongly against this, you are welcome to relinquish your position.” He turned to Sobian. “You. Up here. Kneel.”

  She obeyed.

  “Repeat after me. ‘I, Sobian of—where are you from?—do swear now—”

  “I know the rest.” She returned his smile and took one of our hands in each of hers. When she touched Arthur, something passed between them I couldn’t quite read. “I, Sobian, daughter of Grendel the Dark One of Ulster, do swear now special allegiance to my king, queen, and country. I swear also to uphold my fellow Combrogi, to defend and honor them in all things, and to keep close to my heart the confidence of my lord and lady. Should I fail them or break these vows, may the wrath of the gods be visited upon me.”

  Arthur helped her to her feet, and we embraced her in turn. “Welcome, fellow countrywoman.”

  Slowly, families began to depart from Cadbury, returning at long last to their homes to enjoy our newly won peace. We said our farewells to those not accompanying us to Camelot and packed our own caravan for the long journey home. At the last minute, I noticed Merlin was not in his customary position next to Arthur. I found him and my husband with Viviane, Nimue, Morgan, and the other priestesses.

  I placed a hand on his forearm. “Merlin, why are you not with our party? We are nearly ready to depart.”

  Merlin turned, expression just the slightest bit wistful. “As I have just told Arthur and Morgan, I am not coming with you.”

  “What? I—”

  He held up a hand to silence me. “Badon was my final battle as Arthur’s advisor. I have seen what may yet come, and I wish no part in it. I have seen too much death in my years as counselor to kings.” He slid his arm around Nimue’s waist and pulled her to him. “Now that peace has come at long last, I wish to devote my remaining days to teaching and being with those I love. Arthur has already given his consent.”

  Over his shoulder, Viviane flinched, her gaze resting jealously on Nimue. Inwardly, I sighed. If even the Lady of the Lake could be supplanted, I couldn’t feel too bad about Arthur’s affection for Morgan.

  I hugged him. “If that is what you wish, far be it from me to oppose you. We will miss you though. Who will keep us out of trouble?”

  Merlin laughed, running a hand through his graying hair. “One is coming who will more than make up for my absence, I assure you.” He bent down, lips grazing my cheek. To everyone else, it probably looked as though he was kissing me farewell, but his voice was stern in my ear. “Have a care whom you take into your confidence. Not everyone at court wishes to see your star continue to ascend. Remember the prophecy.”

  I remembered it all too well. The first part had already come true when Arthur took the throne. The second appeared to be happening now with Viviane in power in Avalon as Lady of the Lake. I repeated the third and final part to myself silently. The day will come when sister shall oppose sister, both in this sacred place and without. Loyalties will be tested and betrayed, so heed my warning. That which is birthed in jealousy shall not give life but infect all who draw near. Therefore, act with love and not out of spite. Only then shall you escape the fate the stars foretell.

  I shivered. Merlin was right. I must keep my own counsel and keep careful watch over my actions lest those words come to pass.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Spring 504

  Elaine was driving me mad. She paced constantly, running her hands through her hair, fiddling with her dress, unable to concentrate on her sewing or even sit still for a meal.

  She’d been this way all winter. Then, I’d thought it was the effects of being cooped up inside with little to occupy her mind, but now the sun was bright, the breezes cool, and we were supposed to be enjoying simply being alive.

  “Dear heart, what troubles you so?” I asked from my blanket beneath a pink dogwood. “Elaine, did you hear me?”

  A little ways away, Elaine was picking at her fingernails as though determined to rid them of their
cuticles once and for all. She looked at me, perplexed. “What do you mean?”

  “This.” I put a hand over hers to stop her from peeling off more skin. “Your agitation must have a source. Out with it so the rest of us can live in peace.”

  She searched my eyes as if trying to decide whether or not to trust me, then she glanced away. “I shouldn’t say.”

  I knelt behind her, took her hair in my hands, and began twisting it into a golden braid just as I had done when we were children. “Of course you should.” I adopted a mock stern tone. “Your queen commands it.”

  She sighed and nodded toward the training yard where roughly twenty of Arthur’s men were sparring in pairs and small groups. “I thought I would enjoy being closer to my husband at court, but now I find it brings me nothing but distress. During the day I try to think of ways to be pleasing to him, to get him to pay attention to me, while at night I watch him dazzle all manner of women, talking with them, flirting with them, even with you. I am not certain it is all frivolous either.” She turned to look at me, her long tresses slipping out of my hands. “If that was not enough, I dream of him at night. Being at court is best for my son, and I would rather be here with his father than anywhere else in the world, but I cannot stand it.”

  I couldn’t help but feel sympathy for her. “Sweet girl, you deserve none of this. Why do you not ask him for a divorce?”

  Elaine twisted around. “It doesn’t work that way in my faith. Our marriage was consummated—everyone knows that because of Galahad. I would not trade his life for anything, but as a result, I am bound to my husband whether he admits it or no. To leave him now would be a mortal sin, though I doubt there is a greater hell than to love someone whose heart will forever belong to others. How do you do it, Guinevere—live with Morgan and Arthur, especially with Mordred always under foot?”