Reflect- Snow White Retold

by Demelza Carlton

  Guinevere sat down. "Well, there are more than a hundred barrels bearing that mark in your cellar, covered in dust. Maybe more, depending on what's under all that dust. We couldn't reach all the barrels to read the markings beyond the first row."

  Lancelot gaped. "In my cellar? A barrel of that is worth more than my whole estate. It's been a decade since anyone's been able to buy Moravian berry wine, and it was not cheap to start with. And there's…a hundred, you say?"

  Guinevere nodded.

  He paled. "You've just made me the richest man in the country. Nay, maybe the whole world. Marry me, my queen, for I'd be a fool to let you go."

  He sounded so serious, but Guinevere knew it had to be a jest. She forced herself to laugh. "I only discovered riches you already possessed, Sir Lancelot. Hardly grounds enough for you to want an unwashed widow like me."

  He opened his mouth as if to respond, yet he said nothing. Then a servant brought dinner, and the conversation quickly turned to duck, wine, and venison, and which would be wanted for supper today and on the morrow.

  More than once, she felt Lancelot's eyes upon her, assessing her as surely as she'd taken stock of the contents of his cellars. Had it been anyone else, she might have turned away from such scrutiny, but she had few secrets left from Lancelot, and those were not worth knowing, anyway.

  "Will you hunt this afternoon?" Lancelot asked.

  Tempting though it was, she knew it was wiser to refuse. "I had hoped to, but I would prefer to finish my work in your cellars first. If I had known there would be so much already stored, perhaps I would not have ordered another wagon of mead from the convent. As it is…shifting so much so that I might see the markings may take me until nightfall. Or into next week. "

  "I'll put more men at your disposal. I'd hoped to ask you to train the new falcons with me today, for the falconer tells me they are ready to start hunting. The birds can wait until the morrow, I am sure, but no later. I am…conscious that your kindness is far more than I deserve. I promised that I would take care of you, yet here you are, working so hard to ready my estate for winter. King Artorius would tell me I am derelict in my duty, and I fear our late king might be right."

  Guinevere shrugged. "It amuses me to be useful. In Castrum, there was little for me to do, even when I was not imprisoned in my room. Here, I have the freedom of your house, the grounds, your cellars, and the use of your falcons. Here I am happy." As the words left her lips, she recognised them as truth. Unadorned, unexpected…yet so surprisingly accurate the thought silenced her for a moment.

  Lancelot caught her hand and kissed it.

  A tingle ran up her arm, just as it had on her wedding night.

  "You honour me, my queen. I only wish your late husband had lived long enough to see you happy."

  She sighed. Yes, she wished he'd lived longer, too. Always, Artorius came between them, a gulf that could not be bridged. "I'd best go finish counting your wine barrels. You might have another hundred barrels of Moravian wine…or enough vinegar to pickle ten years' worth of cabbage." She dropped a small curtsey. "I thank you for your hospitality, Sir Lancelot. I shall see you at supper."

  Forty-Four

  Xylander smothered what had to be his tenth yawn. It wasn't that listening to endless petitions from his subject was boring…but he'd scarcely slept more than half the night since he'd married Zurine.

  She had insisted that a queen's primary duty was to produce heirs, and that meant he'd have to bed her two, or even three times a night. It was hardly a hardship – one look at her body stirred his desire, and her look of wide-eyed wonder every time she squealed with pleasure at his touch made him feel like the most skilful lover that ever lived. But a man needed sleep, too, or all the petitions ran together in his head, and he'd find himself nodding off in the middle of Hearing Day.

  He'd wager Artorius had never fallen asleep on his throne.

  Xylander pronounced judgement on the case – something about borders shifting, as a river moved its course between the spring floods and the summer drought – and the two men left, seemingly satisfied.

  Instead of calling another petitioner, a knight approached the dais.

  Xylander really did have to learn everyone's names. He knew every man he'd ever hunted with, so it shouldn't be too hard to remember the names of his new court.

  "Sire, would you like me to call an end to the audience so that you may retire early today?" the knight asked.

  The knight had seen him struggling to stay awake, then, though he was too well-bred to let even a whisper of his disapproval slip into his tone.

  Yes, but Zurine would only see that as an excuse to take him to bed even earlier. Xylander heartily wished that he could split himself in two – one to bed Zurine whenever she demanded it, one to do all the kingly duties that came with the crown that weighed heavily on his head, though he had not worn the thing today…and perhaps even a third copy, to sleep, go hunting, and do all the things he'd normally filled his time with, before becoming King of Castrum.

  So… "No, Sir…" Xylander racked his brain for the man's name.

  "Dagonet," the knight supplied.

  "Thank you, Sir Dagonet, but no. These good people have waited many days, through Artorius' illness and our coronation, to have their grievances aired. The audience will continue until sunset, as I have promised." Xylander would show them that he might not be as good and wise a king as Artorius, but he would at least keep his word.

  "Perhaps a restorative from the kitchens might help you, sire?" At Xylander's eager nod, Sir Dagonet gestured for a servant to see to it.

  The next petitioner was called: "A messenger from the King of Flamand."

  Xylander's belly curled in dread. The last messenger had brought another man's severed head – a declaration of war from his father, for the head had once been attached to the shoulders of one of the King of Castrum's messengers.

  The messenger bowed low. "Your Majesty, I bring greetings from the King of Flamand…"

  Xylander squinted at the man. "Nunzio? When did you become a messenger?"

  The last time he'd seen Nunzio, the man had been one of his father's guard captains. The bastard born son of one of Father's barons, he'd been considered noble enough to command men, but not quite noble enough to attend court. He'd greeted Xylander at the gates more than once, when his successful hunting parties had returned to the city.

  Nunzio lifted his head, and stared. "Prince Xylander? What are you doing here?"

  Sir Dagonet made a noise of disapproval. "You might be a foreigner here, Messenger of Flamand, but His Majesty, King Xylander, still deserves your courtesy as long as you are permitted in his court."

  Nunzio blinked. He always had been a quick thinker. "Forgive me, King Xylander. I bring greetings from King Lubos of Flamand. He is anxious to reestablish ties of friendship between our two nations. He seeks his sister, Princess Guinevere, who he believes his father may have sent here. As King Ludgar lost his mind to madness in the end, he confided in no one in the days leading up to his death. King Lubos holds out hope that she might be found in Castrum, and he wishes to welcome her home to Flamand."

  So Lubos didn't know about the marriage, or Artorius' death. Or that Guinevere had been crowned as Castrum's queen. Xylander wished he could be the one to tell the news to his brother, just to see his face. But they were both kings now, and he had no place in Flamand, just as Lubos had no place in Castrum.

  "Guinevere." Xylander hadn't forgotten about her, but he'd been so busy, he hadn't had a chance to find out what had become of her. Some knight named Lancelot had taken her to a safe place outside the city, was all he'd heard.

  The little he knew of Lancelot was enough for Xylander to be sure Guinevere was in good hands, for the man's honour was equal to his skills in swordsmanship.

  But…Xylander should have sent someone to check on her, to make sure. He could send someone now, and set his conscience at ease.

  That's what kings did – let other men do the
ir bidding.

  Yet…Xylander had not left the castle in weeks.

  "How far away are Lancelot's lands?" Xylander asked Dagonet.

  Sir Dagonet shrugged. "Two days' ride. Maybe less, if the rider is swift and does not stop to rest."

  Xylander nodded. "Find Captain Nunzio somewhere to sleep in the castle. He shall have his answer in a week."

  A week would be enough. Time to find out what had happened to Guinevere, and to decide what to tell Lubos about all the events in Castrum.

  Forty-Five

  One of the new pages came tumbling down the hill. He righted himself for a moment, before falling to his knees before Lancelot, his eyes wide with panic. "Sir, it's the King."

  Lancelot struggled to remember the boy's name. All three new pages were orphans, and if he didn't remember their names, who would? Surely Artorius had never forgotten his name. He would need to make more of an effort if he aspired to be as good a foster father as the King had been to him.

  "Slow down, boy, and tell me your name," Lancelot said.

  The boy obediently took a few deep breaths. "I'm Galahad, sir. My mother was Lady Elaine, and – "

  The bastard boy, Lancelot recalled. Lady Elaine had died in childbed, never revealing the name of the boy's father. Now he'd taken the boy into his household, there would be whispers that he was the father, but he'd never lain with Lady Elaine. Or any of the women at court. He'd hoped one day he might take a wife, but now…

  Lancelot tore his eyes away from Guinevere, crooning to her new falcon. "Right. Galahad. Tell me what has happened to the King."

  The boy's eyes widened even more. "He wants to know where Queen Guinevere is."

  Lancelot's heart sank. He'd known this day would come, but he'd hoped to have longer before it did. The new king had consolidated his hold on the court quickly, if he had time to send someone after Guinevere already.

  "See that the King's messenger is offered refreshment in the Great Hall, and I shall be with him shortly," Lancelot said. He hurried up to the house, praying that the messenger was someone he knew. A man who would trust his word, and head back to the capital while Lancelot worked out what to do.

  "What is it?" Guinevere called.

  "A messenger for me, nothing more," Lancelot called back. "I shall deal with him, and return directly." If he asked her to run and hide, would she do it? It might be the only way to save her. Artorius might have listened, been willing to weigh the woman's case before making a judgement, but this new king…Lancelot knew too little of him, and he'd heard very little from court. A man new to kingship might be swayed by his advisers, or Melwas…

  Lancelot stepped into the hall, taking a moment for his eyes to adjust before he approached the messenger, who had a cup of wine in his hand already, and a jug at his elbow.

  "Sir Lancelot," the man said. A man Lancelot did not know.

  Some new servant of the King's, no doubt. Lancelot inclined his head politely. "You have me at a disadvantage, sir, for I fear we have not met. Yet my servants tell me you bring word from the King."

  The man set his cup on the table. Now Lancelot could see his clothes were dusty from the journey – he had been in too much of a hurry to bathe or rest along the way. The King must want Guinevere most urgently.

  "Not word so much as a quest. I have come in search of Queen Guinevere," the man said.

  "She's not here," Lancelot said smoothly. "As I told the King, I took her to a convent where she might spend the rest of her days in seclusion. I shall send a servant to fetch her, though it might be some days before – "

  "Xylander!" Guinevere's voice startled them both, as her quiet feet carried her into the hall. "What in heaven's name are you doing here?"

  Lancelot's heart dropped into his boots as he sank to one knee. "Your Majesty," he murmured. What kind of king rode around the countryside alone, giving his vassals no warning of his approach? The man must be mad.

  "King Lubos sent word that he wishes to welcome you back home, and demands your safe return," King Xylander said.

  "You can't send her back!" Lancelot blurted out, jumping to his feet, before he remembered to add, "Your Majesty."

  The new king's gaze was as piercing as it was unsettling. "And why not?"

  Because King Artorius had made Lancelot swear to protect her, and keep her from her family. His last command.

  Lancelot swallowed. He saw no mercy in those cold eyes that he might appeal to. Then inspiration struck. "Because she is my wife," he said. "What God has joined, no man – even a king – may sunder."

  "Your wife!" King Xylander exclaimed. "But the Dowager Queen is still in mourning for her husband. She cannot possibly have remarried."

  How could Lancelot have forgotten? In desperation, he said, "Her marriage with the King was not valid, as it was never consummated. A mistake I did not make, I assure you, for she was still a maid when I took her."

  He glanced over his shoulder to find Guinevere staring at him, stricken. He only prayed that she stayed speechless long enough not to contradict the story.

  "As her husband, I will ensure she has no further opportunities to commit treason, and that is why I have kept her here, away from the temptation of court. And here she will remain, as long as she lives," Lancelot continued. He didn't dare turn to meet her eyes. He prayed she would accept his apology, and his explanation, after the King had gone.

  "And what has the lady to say to this?" the King demanded.

  Now he heard her soft footsteps approaching, before Guinevere tucked her hand into the crook of Lancelot's arm. He half expected her to dig her nails in, as deeply as an eagle's talons, yet she did not.

  "I like it here, and I intend to stay," she said. "With Sir Lancelot, of course."

  Lancelot's jaw dropped. He closed his mouth as quickly as he could, knowing he would be too late, only to find the King's mouth hung open as he stared at Guinevere.

  "Sir Lancelot and his falconer have been training three new hawks, and I hope to hunt with them before long. He has promised me one for my own, and I believe I shall call her Circe."

  The King grinned. "Hunting falcons? I should like to see the mews."

  "Perhaps Sir Lancelot can arrange a hunting party for you and your new queen, when the new birds are trained," Guinevere continued. She beckoned to a servant. "Have chambers and a bath prepared for the King."

  To Lancelot's relief, the maid hurried off to obey, without so much as a questioning look to himself. As if Guinevere truly was the mistress of this castle, as his lady wife.

  "Alas, I cannot stay for more than a night. I must return to the capital in the morning. But perhaps, in the summer, a hunting party…" Xylander nodded, looking eager.

  Lancelot nodded with him, trying to hide his dread. "As Your Majesty wishes, of course."

  The King poured himself another cup of wine, and peppered Lancelot with questions about the hunting hereabouts, which Lancelot was all too happy to answer. This was King Artorius' favourite hunting grounds, and Lancelot had taken great care to ensure his lands remained exactly as Artorius had liked them.

  Finally, a servant came to escort the King to his chamber. Only when Xylander had vanished from sight did Lancelot bury his head in his hands. This was a disaster. He could not imagine anything worse.

  A light hand touched his elbow.

  "If you value your head, you'll come with me to the lake, where no one will hear us. Now."

  Lancelot lifted his head to meet Guinevere's unforgiving gaze.

  Things were indeed worse.

  Forty-Six

  As she led the way to the lake, Guinevere debated what to say first.

  Yet it was Lancelot who broke the silence. "What possessed you to invite the King hunting?" he hissed.

  Guinevere folded her arms across her breasts. "A more benevolent spirit than the one who inspired you to lie to him!" she returned hotly. "I'd thought you a man of honour, yet you seem happy to tell blatant lies to your king!"

  "My king died i
n his bed before we left the capital, and I never lied to him in my life," Lancelot declared. "That man might be his replacement, but he is not yet my king. I have sworn no oaths, pledged no allegiance…"

  "Xylander is not a fool! It is only a matter of time until he realises that of all his vassals, you have not renewed your oath to the crown. He will summon you to court, and what will you do then?" Thoughts of Lancelot refusing to bow to the King, and having his head lopped from his shoulders sent her heart stuttering in her chest.

  "If his summons is for me alone, and he is worthy to wear that crown, then I will swear any oath he asks," Lancelot said. "As long as he leaves you alone. Which is why I cannot believe you invited the man hunting. Here! Where you are hiding from the court. And drawing attention to yourself, appearing in the hall and addressing him directly – without his title! I asked you to wait outside, where he might not see you. Why, it is almost as if you wish to be tried for treason!"

  Xylander would as soon cut off his own hand as try her for treason, as Guinevere well knew. He had risked his life to whisk her out of her father's kingdom to here. Was it possible that Lancelot did not know who Xylander was? Then again, perhaps Xylander was the one who had kept their relationship quiet, not wishing to alert his new people that his sister was the woman they'd tried to burn for treason.

  "No more than you! Why did you tell him we were married?" she demanded. "I thought you lusted after some highborn widow, waiting only until her husband's bed was cold enough before sliding between her thighs! Do you plan to take her as your mistress, as you cannot have two wives? Or will you lie to her, too?"

  Lancelot stiffened, as if she'd slapped him. "No man of honour would dare come between a man and his wife. A man's family is his concern. And I would be faithful to you as your devoted husband. There will never be anyone else for me, even if our marriage is a lie. I said what I did to protect you."