Chapter 10
The air thickened as shadows overtook the fortress of Camelaird. The blackness suffocated the torches and candlelight, as well as quashing the brightness of the moon and stars. Arthur's face dimmed before me, his features imperceptible. The rumble of wheels sounded as the gates slid downward, thudding to the ground. The slick ting of metal against scabbard punctuated the still air as men drew swords, preparing for an unseen foe. The silence of the dark intensified the noise of warriors, as if each muscle of every man tensed and their breaths heaved in the air.
Elibel whimpered while Arthur thrust me toward Lancelot, yelling, "Protect her with your life."
The knight shielded both me and my cousin behind him—my vision so impaired I only knew my position by the feel of his back to me and my cousin clinging to my arm.
"Hold!" yelled Arthur to the rest of his men.
The tension grew as men's hearts lost courage, causing them to shift in the blackness that pervaded us.
Arthur commanded, "Relight the torches! Set a bonfire before the north gate! Make haste!"
But his efforts fell too late; a man yelled out in pain. Then another cried from the darkness, "They are already inside the walls!" but his scream asphyxiated with the gurgling sound of blood upon his lips.
Scuffling and clanking noises permeated the fortress as warriors scrambled against the invisible invaders. Lancelot circled around us, searching for targets. One hand stayed behind him, upon me, while the other held his sword. As he revolved around Elibel and me, the caress of his fingertips seeking my form heated the skin beneath my dress. My fear for the unknown darkness, and Elibel's frightened grip squeezing into my forearm kept me from giving over to the temptation to return his touch with my own hand.
A man's grunt sounded near me—the tone familiar. "Father?" I called out.
"Stay where you are, Guinevere," said my father.
Father's words strangulated, as if held in check by an arm around his neck. A shiver rose up my spine.
Footsteps pounded somewhere in the darkness, moving around my back. A scuffling noise, followed by the clang of metal against metal and the grunts of men fighting, resounded around me. Suddenly, a faint flame sparked near the gate as a pile of hay lit on fire. Within moments, the dry grass blazed, casting light through the unnatural darkness.
The melee came into view around us. Melwas' men had miraculously tripled in size and fought our soldiers three to one, swamping the courtyard with their numbers. I swiveled around to search for my father, running my eyes across every bit of the watchtower platform until I found him. A beefy arm caught Father around his neck, pulling him back against the fortress' wall. A sword point gouged the skin of Father's neck, causing a trail of blood to trickle down his flesh.
"Father!" I screamed.
"Stand back, My Lady. No need for you to engage. This argument is between your father and me," said my father's captor.
I focused on the man's features and recognized him from earlier in the day: King Melwas.
"This argument involves me, so I dare say I will engage!" I yelled back, surging forward. I am not sure what I intended to do, but Lancelot caught me, wrapping his arm around my waist, holding me back. Had I not been trembling with a mix of terror and rage, the heat of his touch enveloping my middle would have sent me into a state of rapture. Still, at the moment of his impact, my anger dwindled, washing away with the comfort only he could bring with a touch and calmed me back to my senses.
"If your father gives you over to Arthur, the land will suffer for it. Mark my words, this arrangement must be stopped."
Arthur had already maneuvered a few paces in front of Melwas, his sword extended and trained on our attacker. His blade, Excalibur I presumed, caught the firelight and glimmered with an angry orangey-red color, accentuating the extraordinary knot work extending its length.
"You cannot win this fight Arthur. My men outweigh yours three to one," said Melwas. He jerked his arm tighter around my father's neck, causing Father to groan in response. A triumphant smile spread under the bear-like man's thick moustache.
I glanced around at our knights, surrounded by Melwas' army, and wondered how his men, so defeated from earlier in the day, had grown in number. Then I realized the figures seemed duplicated—each man baring two replicas of his form, moving in unison with one another.
"It's an illusion," I said, more to myself than anyone in particular.
"What?" Arthur asked.
"The men," I restated, "they are in triplicate. An illusion. They don't all exist."
In response to my statement, a knight, surrounded by three men, swiped his sword through the middle of the outer soldier. The blade soared clear through the soldier's center. The stricken man's body fluctuated for a moment, then returned to a solid state.
Arthur laughed, flashing a broad smile at me and hefted his sword over one shoulder like a javelin. In a movement so swift, his action barely discernible, Arthur sent his blade flying towards Melwas' forehead.
King Melwas' own blade dug into Father's neck, separating his skin further.
"No!" I screamed, but a rustling drown out my cry.
A flurry of blackness filled the air between Arthur and Melwas, like hundreds of raven feathers flapping in fury. The blackness deflected Arthur's blade and his sword dropped to the ground, clanking as it hit stone. An arm materialized from the darkness, grabbing Melwas, staving off the slice to my father's throat.
A woman appeared from the fluttering. Darkness morphed into light as her form appeared—long white robes, gold-blonde hair draped over her shoulders reaching down past her waist, and startling green eyes—as green as Arthur's were blue. I realized those eyes were the same as the raven's I had thought I had seen on the battlefield.
"Be careful, Brother," she said. "This girl possesses the power to see. She will not always be easily fooled."
Brother? I started at her statement. The woman stilled as if floating in space, and scrutinized me. A curious crystal dangled from a chain around her neck, swirling with colors of red, green and blue. For a moment, a thought flashed in my memory—druid glass, I thought, but couldn't grasp where the remembrance came from. Then another spark materialized and I remembered a similar crystal around my mother's neck.
Melwas' men scrambled to subdue our soldiers, but the woman—Arthur's sister—raised her hand, effectively stopping all of their movements.
"How agreeable of you to join us, Sister. I believe you haven't been formally introduced. Lady Guinevere of Camelaird," he waved toward me, "this is my sister, Morgaine, who apparently believes meddling in my affairs won't bring her consequences."
"On the contrary, Brother," she said, smiling at Arthur, "consequences are the lesson you must learn."
"Withdraw and stay out of this, Morgaine," Arthur's tone grew threatening.
"Then let her freely choose who will become her husband, and I will, Brother." Her smile broadened, as if challenging him.
Arthur tipped his head at his sister, bowed and waved his arm back towards me to signal her to proceed.
Morgaine approached, her movement so fluid she seemed to float toward me rather than walk. She stood for moments, scanning my eyes as if reading my soul. The intense gaze of her green eyes tightened every muscle in my body. Though Lancelot had released me, I still felt the ghost of his arm around my waist and used the memory to draw strength, knowing the knight stood only a pace behind me.
At my thought of the the knight, Morgaine's lips turned upwards into a sly smile, much like the one I often saw on Arthur, and a warning buzzed in the back of my head to guard my thoughts. It dissipated as quickly as it appeared. Then my mind muddled, unable to decide if the woman before me posed a threat or offered assistance.
"Lady Guinevere," began Morgaine, "Though Melwas' siege has been ill advised and he will suffer consequences for it, I assure you, he will honor you and never trick you into actions that are not in alignm
ent with your own path. A marriage to him will assure the old ways live on without persecution and that the land will prosper as well as its people. I cannot guarantee the same for a marriage to my brother."
"But Arthur has released me from any obligation to marry him," I replied.
Morgaine's gaze wandered to Arthur, examining him. Her smile broadened as if he were an adversary in a game of Wooden Wisdoms and had just blocked her win. "How noble of you, Brother."
With that glance, I realized this entire affair—Melwas, the battle, the slaughter of men—none of it had been about me. It harkened back to some unknown fight between Arthur and Morgaine. Perhaps I had been the catalyst, or just a means to an end, but not the subject, and not the responsible party. Though I did not know what had caused siblings to come to such an estranged relationship, I knew I could only make the best choice with what I knew to be true of my predicament—holding my father's, Elibel's and Camelaird's fates in my hand.
I thought of my mother—of her words: love, honor and protect. Arthur sought only to protect the people of Britannia. And as my father suggested, even if I did not love Arthur, I could honor him and keep my people safe, and perhaps, with the influence of my queenship, bestow a freedom on those I loved even though I could not possess the liberty for myself.
"But I have decided to accept his offer of betrothal," I said.
An intake of breath, like a squeak, sounded behind me and I knew it was Elibel. A momentary surge of guilt rushed over me at her reaction.
Morgaine's leaf-colored eyes flashed, though I could not tell if the emotion was anger or resolve. "Then you know not what you do, Lady Guinevere of Camelaird. Even if you make the choice you believe to be right, you will still suffer the consequences if that decision turns out to be wrong in the end."
My circlet materialized in her hands and she gave it back to me.
“I believe you lost this. You should mind yourself to keep a better grip on it in the future.”
As her words lingered in the air between us, all went dark—utterly black. A commotion broke through the courtyard as men scrambled, but within a breath, the torches and fire renewed, lighting our view once more. Morgaine, along with Melwas and his men had vanished.
Arthur beamed and strutted toward me, seeking my crown. He removed the circlet and placed it back on my head, then sought to hold my hands. Without looking, I knew Lancelot withdrew until I could no longer feel his presence behind me.
Expectation washed over King Arthur's face as he stared at me. "Guinevere—"
"But," I warned, "my compliance comes with conditions."
"Oh?"
He slipped his hands around mine. The electricity of his touch ignited the tingling underneath my skin again.
"And what might those conditions be?" His smile, though already broad, continued to spread. The charm of his looks shocked me—as Elibel had said, he was a startlingly handsome man. "I will swear anything to you if you grant me the honor of uniting our forces to keep this dream of peace protected."
Love, honor and protection. The words buzzed through my head. Had this been my mother's message? At least he hadn't lied and professed a false love to me.
"I will marry you if you allow my father to rule Camelaird for as long as he is capable, and dispatch an army for Camelaird's protection under my father's rule. Camelaird will not be yours until my father either concedes or dies. After that, all rulings you make for Camelaird will be mutually agreed upon between you and I."
"As you desire," said Arthur. His gaze never wavered from my own as he made his promise. "You said conditions. What else?"
"I would ask that my lady-in-waiting, Elibel, be released from my service. She can stay as long as she wishes, and I will provide for her, but she may seek any love she desires—whether above or below her station—and when she chooses to leave me, she will be blessed in her choice of a husband and provided with a generous dowry to compensate them both for a lifetime."
I glanced backwards to catch sight of Elibel. Her cheeks reddened and tears welled at the corners of her eyes. I smiled at my cousin and she nodded back at me.
"I see," said Arthur, regaining my attention. "I agree to this condition." His eyes sparked with humor as I continued.
"And that Aethelwine will accompany me to Camelot and his care will never be questioned."
"I could grow enamored with your peculiarities."
"What do you mean?"
"Another in your position would have asked for jewels, or dresses, or riches, but you ask a favor for your servant and for sanctuary for your bird?" Genuine admiration played in his features as he continued, "You've asked of nothing for yourself. Isn't there anything I can give you?"
"Yes," I blurted without thought. Then I pressed my lips together to contain the run-away notion.
"Go on," he prodded.
Embarrassed at my desire, I tilted my head downward, but he caught my chin with his hand and lifted my face back up to meet his.
"Anything," he said. "Just ask."
"That you never say I love you, unless you mean it. Not love of my crown, or for what I represent, but love for who I am, in my heart. Promise you will never utter those words unless such affection has grown within you honestly and truly."
"Fair enough." He said, amused. "I will never say," Arthur paused, his eyes intensifying, "I love you..." He let another breath of silence dangle between us, which emphasized the "I love you" phrase as if it stood upon its own.
Hearing the words spoken by someone other than Elibel—a man, no less—made my chest wobble. For the first time, I realized how I longed to hear those words.
"…Unless," he teased, "I truly and honestly mean them. Then it is done. These are all your conditions?"
"All," I confirmed.
Arthur's hand moved back to cradle the side of my face, as his other hand drew in behind me and pulled me toward him. Both panic and expectation seized me; I froze, tensing at his touch. No one had ever kissed me, though I had imagined such a moment as all girls do. At my stiffening, Arthur drew down, meeting me, parting his lips. Like the touch of his hands, his skin against mine ignited sparks of energy inside me. For a moment, Lancelot's image flashed in my mind. I fought against the vision and squeezed my eyes shut. Arthur's embrace tightened; he pressed into me. The hardness of his breastplate pushed into my own flesh as the soft caress of his lips played over my own. The sensation of his lips on mine took over, and for the first time, I wondered if I could learn to love such a man.
Continuance
So this is how it began, how I became betrothed to the legendary King Arthur. It was unfair—that moment. I did not possess all the information I needed to make the decision, and yet I did. I truly believed my actions were in the best interest of everyone involved: my father, the people of Camelaird, Elibel, and all Britons. I had even convinced myself that I might be able to love a king who sought to bring peace to the land. But when I agreed to the betrothal, I did not realize Arthur's proclamation for the welfare of Britannia was tainted by ulterior motivations. Had I known what was to come, my decision would have been much different.
- Guinevere, Queen of Camelot
The 6th day of November in the year of our Lord 536
Written from the abbey at Amesbury
Queen’s Honor Continues In Quest
Here’s a sneak peek of Quest, book two of the Queen’s Honor Miniseries.
Betrothal (Queen’s Honor, Tales of Lady Guinevere: #1), a Medieval Fantasy Romance NOVELLA Page 11
