Guinevere Read online

  When all had left but Merlin, Guenlian, Leodegrance and Geraldus, Merlin finally came back to life. Geraldus didn’t notice the other three. He was listening to a new attempt by his chorus. It was basically a roundelay, but occasionally the alto would venture out on a melody of her own, which would cause Geraldus’ heart to beat ecstatically. Consequently, he missed the conversation until he was called into it.

  “I have had a message from Arthur,” Merlin began sententiously. “The Saxons have been pushed back south of London and the Piets north of Hadrian’s Wall, thanks to the efforts of our good cousin, Cador. They will not trouble us again before next spring, he feels. The Saxons in the south have given hostages, which Arthur turned over to Cador on his trip homeward.”

  “That is excellent news, Merlin!” Leodegrance exclaimed. “Why, then, do you wear such a dismal face? I could barely eat with your morose countenance always before me.”

  “Yes, we should rejoice, cousin,” agreed Guenlian. “Perhaps this is the turn of fortune we have been waiting and working for all our lives!”

  “That I cannot see,” Merlin sighed. “Arthur has only asked—against my wishes—if you would be willing to allow him to bring a few of his officers and other men of good family to camp on your land and rest and hunt for a while. He thinks they will arrive in perhaps three weeks.”

  “We would be honored to entertain such a great dux bellorum,” Leodegrance replied. “At last!” he thought. “A chance to see this unknown quantity and judge him for myself.”

  He said aloud, “The harvest should be nearly over by then, at least of the grains. The grapes will be a bit late. We should be able to support them quite well for a few weeks at least. Tell him we should be pleased to have him share our home.”

  Guenlian nodded. “Of course. Why do you doubt our hospitality? Is there something about him that we should know, something that keeps you from wanting us to meet him? Tell us now.”

  Merlin shifted uncomfortably in his chair. The pillow was soft and thick, but he might have been seated on pointed rock for all the comfort it gave him.

  “It is not Arthur I worry about, nor his men; though some of them have been brought up more to war and the chase than to fine linen and philosophy. No, Arthur is young still, but he has a good heart and a fine mind. They both need training, as he has spent them primarily on military strategy and earning the devotion of his soldiers. He will not shame me with his manners. But there is a problem which I find very difficult to speak of. I do not wish to put an unfounded fear into your minds.”

  He hesitated and Leodegrance jumped in.

  “You cannot possibly unnerve us more with your problem than you do now with your evasions and hedgings.”

  Merlin bowed his apology. “Yes, it is unpleasant, but I feel I must speak. The disaster I fear is—Guinevere.”

  “What! Don’t be ridiculous! She is but a child! What could she do to harm anyone?!”

  Both her parents had risen to their feet in indignation. Merlin quelled them with a look.

  “Don’t allow your adoration of the child to cloud your judgment in the matter. She is nearly thirteen and shows no signs of the ungainliness or self-consciousness of others of her age. Many of Arthur’s ‘men’ and even Arthur, himself, are barely out of their teens, if that.”

  “Are you suggesting that they would behave improperly to her?” Leodegrance roared. At the end of the table Geraldus looked up for a moment. Leodegrance lowered his voice. “Her brothers and I would chop down any man who came within arm’s reach of my daughter!”

  “Never fear anything so obvious. They are not the sort to take advantage of the child of a lord as great as you, although all their hosts’ daughters might not fare so well. You might warn the serving maids and fosterlings to be somewhat more circumspect in their dress. Everyone at this place lives in a fantasy world! I truly believe it! But that is not the point. Guinevere is beautiful. You would certainly not deny that. She is also charming of manner and has a special air about her. Perhaps it comes from her family. You have given her everything she could want and protected her as even an emperor’s child was not. There is probably not another child in Christendom so lucky. And to all of this you add the most valuable dowry in Britain. Do you not see the dissension she could cause?”

  Guenlian’s head had begun to ache. She felt tears behind her eyelids but refused to let them through. “Not my baby!” she screamed in her heart. But her face remained calm and her voice was as cool as spring rain.

  “Possibly, this is true. We have not considered our daughter yet as a marriage prize. But you are right that she is nearing the age when such things must be considered. However, Guinevere is totally innocent of these matters.”

  “That makes her all the more alluring . . . and dangerous!” Merlin answered flatly.

  “What about her dowry?” Leodegrance interrupted. “I have less real wealth than many of the lords of Britain. No land to speak of, and that will go to my eldest son. Why should anyone think that there is anything else of value I might give along with Guinevere, the brightest jewel of my house?”

  His voice was suspicious. He guessed what Merlin was leading to and he wanted it out in the open.

  Merlin’s voice was kinder, more normal now. He had said the hardest part and he could relax.

  “First, there is the honor of your name. You are one of the oldest and best-born families in Britain. You needn’t wave modestly; you know it’s true and you pride yourselves on it. You should be proud, for you are worthy descendants of the Republic. I would rather have a Roman senator among my forebears than all the emperors combined. Secondly, you have something in your keeping which is of great value. It is not yours, though, no more than it was Uther’s, who gave it to you.”

  Leodegrance clenched his jaw.

  “Say no more, Merlin. I shall never release the table to any except one I deem worthy of it.”

  “How can you do that? You have no idea of its power or its use! Uther knew even less. He was afraid of it and would have burnt it, if I had not insisted that it be given to you. I didn’t know why, then. I just knew that you were the one ordained to hold this thing. But now I am beginning to understand. I don’t want the table revealed any more than you do. But are you aware that all your children have known of this thing, practically since they could walk? It has formed the substance of most of their dares and fantasies since I can remember.”

  “Of course, I knew they had seen it. But they are the only ones, and they will be the stewards of it after I am gone. I allow no one else in the cave and the entrance is well secured.”

  “You don’t know that they have told others of this thing? To them it’s just a family oddity and of no importance, but others have heard. What better way to acquire such a treasure than to form an alliance with your house?”

  He had made his point. To Leodegrance, his daughter was the most precious treasure in his keeping, and the table was a sacred trust. He was not prepared to relinquish either.

  “You say that you wish to prevent such an occurrence, at least forestall it. What do you want us to do?” Leodegrance’s voice was hard in his effort to keep it steady. He disliked Merlin intensely at that moment.

  “There are two alternatives. First, you could wrap Guinevere in long robes with her head covered like a Roman matron whenever she is out, and try to keep her inside and away from the guests whenever possible.”

  “Ridiculous!” Guenlian shouted. “She would never understand such a thing and couldn’t be made to remember.”

  “I agree,” Merlin nodded. “It would be illogical and entirely ineffectual. Her wrapping would only make her more provocative. The other choice is to send her away for the duration of the visit.”

  “That would be no better! Guinevere has not spent a night away from us in her life. What would she think if we banished her from the house, especially with important guests expected?”

  “Tell her whatever you think best. Let her know you don’t think the
company appropriate companions for her, if you like. Assure her that it will be only for a few weeks. Anything. She needn’t go far. You could send her to Timon and Gaia. Tell her it’s for the good of her soul.” Merlin was reaching the end of his patience. “Make it a religious experience!”

  They considered this suggestion as best they could. It was hard to decide so suddenly, when ten minutes before they had had no thought of ever letting their child out of their sight. It was clear that Merlin was right. She had to go before Arthur and his soldiers arrived.

  It might be possible. Timon and Gaia were brother and sister who, twenty years before, had vowed poverty, chastity, and unity with all God’s creatures. They had removed themselves far into the forest and now lived alone, in a remarkably beautiful house that they had constructed themselves, with no knowledge of how to plan or build one. Through some lucky chance or divine intervention, the house resembled the woods around it. A stream tumbled by the door. They kept bees and chickens, collected the fruits and nuts of the forest, and occasionally bartered honey for flour. In short, they lived peacefully, as if the golden age of the world had never faded. Guinevere had never met them, but Leodegrance and Guenlian knew them well. Guenlian had once found refuge there at a time when no other hiding place was safe. They were sure they could trust their daughter to this pious pair without fear. Yes, Merlin was right. Guinevere would be sent on a retreat.

  The room was still. Merlin knew they had decided. The only sound was Geraldus, impatiently trying to keep the chorus in time.

  “One, two, three, FOUR!” he mumbled. “One, two, three, FOUR!! It’s not right yet. Try again, from the beginning.”

  “How are they, tonight?” Merlin asked. He was another who accepted the singers without interpretation.

  “I have a whole new batch of tenors. I have no idea where they came from,” Geraldus answered distractedly. “They don’t even know how to keep together. Then the basses and the altos want to start on polyphony. We’ve hardly gotten beyond a simple round and they want to harmonize!”

  His voice trailed off into annoyed muttering as the music apparently started again.

  “Geraldus!” Guenlian raised her voice to attract his attention, feeling slightly silly in the quiet room.

  “Geraldus, dear. We would like to ask a favor of you.”

  The saint pulled his attention back to them. “What? Certainly. Anything you like. Only please don’t ask me to preach. I never know what to say and all this racket makes it hard to keep from repeating myself.”

  “Nothing of the kind,” Leodegrance assured him. “We would like you to undertake a commission for us. We want you to deliver something very precious to Gaia and Timon at their retreat.”

  Geraldus relaxed. He hated preaching, but traveling was fine. Just the right time of year for it, too, and Gaia and Timon always had a warm greeting and the most wonderful bread and honey.

  “Fine. I can go whenever you like. What is it you want me to take to them?”

  There was a pause.

  “We want you carefully to convey the Lady Guinevere to them for a visit.” Merlin spoke for all three of them.

  “What? Does she know about this? I had thought she wanted . . .” he stopped. “Of course. Not my business. But I thought that she was expecting to stay here and see Arthur.”

  This produced a sensation among the others that even Geraldus didn’t miss.

  “Everyone knows he’s coming. It’s been in the wind for days. Haven’t you noticed the excessive amount of chattering among the women; not to mention the excitement among your foster sons? They’ve been beating each other’s brains out on the practice field all week to be in shape in case Arthur should want them to go with him. All the cacaphony around here is almost as bad as my singers.”

  “Ouch!!” He slapped his arm. He had felt something very much like a pinch.

  Merlin glanced woefully at Guenlian.

  “So everyone knows that Arthur is coming. All the more reason for her to go. If I can’t keep a piece of news secret, it would be impossible for me to try to hide an entire girl. We can spend a week or two preparing her to travel. But please don’t wait longer! I would feel even more at ease if she were sent across the Channel. Don’t alarm yourselves. I know that can’t be. We will have to hope that a mountain hermitage is remote enough to prevent any encounters. Geraldus, will you accompany the Lady Guinevere to the home of Timon and Gaia in two weeks’ time?”

  “Of course. I will be happy to oblige you. Now I must excuse myself.”

  Geraldus left with a troubled face. Merlin wasn’t sure if it was because of Guinevere or if the singers had started up again.

  He sighed. “The next thing will be to explain to Guinevere, herself. If she has set her heart on seeing Arthur, it will be more difficult. To the best of my memory, Guinevere has never, in her entire thirteen years, been denied anything she has really wanted. This is not the best time to start, but deny her you must.”

  “You have frightened us quite sufficiently,” Leodegrance assured him with anger. “Guinevere will go, whether she wants to or not. We do not need any more of your advice or doom-saying.”

  Abruptly, he too left the table.

  Guenlian and Merlin gazed at each other in the candlelight. He held out a hand to her.

  “Forgive me, Cousin. I seem to sow dissension wherever I go.” He stared moodily into the flickering flame.

  Guenlian thought, “How old he is getting! He can’t be much past forty, but his face already has deep lines. And all his life he has lived like this, running another man’s errands. He seems to have no refuge of his own. I don’t believe his father was a demon, as they say. But there are times when he does seem to be carrying some dreadful curse.”

  She took his outstretched hand. They sat together in silence, watching the candle die.

  Chapter Four

  Guinevere! Guinevere! Unbar the door, darling. Let me come in.” Guenlian’s voice was low and pleading.

  “No! You don’t love me! None of you loves me. You just want to be rid of me!”

  That’s what Guinevere answered, but, between the tears and the blanket over her head, her mother could only guess at the words. Guenlian sighed and decided to wait awhile. She went back to her own room, from which she was trying to direct ten different projects, each to be finished before Arthur and his men arrived.

  Guinevere burrowed farther into her covers. Despite the heat, she felt the need of thick wool around her. As Merlin had predicted, she was not submissively accepting the command to leave her home just when so many exciting visitors were coming. She couldn’t believe that anyone would want her away from them. She felt confused, frightened, and betrayed. If she had known how the hurt in her eyes stabbed at her parent’s hearts, she might have been comforted. But they had stood firm, and she never guessed the fears that preyed upon them. They were all against her! Flora, her brothers, even Geraldus. Her best friend! He had only patted her shoulder and said, “Why would you want to meet all those barbarian soldiers when you could be on the road with me? They probably care nothing for music. And in this heat, having to entertain! You will be so much happier in the cool forest with Timon and Gaia. Then, in a month or so, when the weather is better, I’ll return for you.”

  “A month or so!” This to a child who had not spent even a night away from her parents in her life? Guinevere kicked wildly upon her bed, beating with clenched fists at the injustice of it all.

  But nothing availed; not tears nor temper nor pitiable sorrow. Everyone was kind, loving, sympathetic. All the same, two weeks later a stony-faced Guinevere sat on her horse next to old Plotinus and waited for Geraldus to finish loading her things on the pack horse. Everyone in the household was there to see her off, but she kept her face veiled and refused even to say goodbye.

  She scarcely bent when Guenlian reached up to hold her for one last moment.

  “Please, my darling,” she whispered. “Believe that this is for the best. We only want to ke
ep you safe.”

  “Where could I be safer than here?” Guinevere sobbed from behind her veil. But she didn’t return Guenlian’s kiss.

  Geraldus was finally ready. Gingerly he mounted his ancient horse and they set off.

  Soon they were out of sight of the compound and into the forest. The air was still but cooler. Soft swishes and crackles filtered from the trees and bushes by the path. The birds had already hidden from the sun and only an occasional chitter was heard above. The hard-baked trail was broad and well traveled. The marks of a thousand horses had worn it smooth and free of obstacles, which was well, for Guinevere still sat tautly upon her horse, holding the reins slack, seeing nothing about her. Geraldus was humming with a dreamy expression. Occasionally he would slip into a tune, although he mainly seemed to be singing counterpoint. Finally Guinevere glanced at him and saw the woman with the black hair and laughing face seated daintily behind him, sideways, not even holding on. She noticed Guinevere and made a wry face. Then she started tickling Geraldus’ ear with the fringe of her belt.

  Guinevere refused to be tricked into undignified laughter. She stared coolly at the woman and then turned her head away. Her heart still raged at the unfairness of her life.

  “What am I?” she fumed to herself. “A slave to be ordered about? A doll to be cast aside? I am almost a woman and they treat me as if I were a baby. I will never let anyone else do this to me again. I will control where I go and what I do!”

  Her mind wandered to grand visions of herself as mistress of her own house, ordering her servants about. But the home was strangely like her own and the people the ones who had always cared for her. It made her uneasy to think about it existing without her parents and she tried to think of something else.

  The air was pungent with late summer flowers and dry pine needles. The sun warmed her and Geraldus’ humming belonged to the day, soft and peaceful. Her hands began to gather up the reins and, after a moment’s thought, she hitched up her robe and threw her leg over the horse. Riding astride might not be dignified, but it was much more comfortable. Her long, brown legs dangled contentedly against the horse’s flank.