Queen of Camelot

by Nancy McKenzie

  I took a deep breath to steady my nerves. I should have known, I told myself bitterly, I should have known. Of course everyone was waiting for the prince to be conceived. It was, after all, why he had married me. Only I had been dazzled by the sun.

  The silence grew heavy between us.

  “Have you admirers among the Companions?” I asked finally, trying to think of something, anything to break the tension.

  Elaine looked moodily away. “Five or six. Lamorak’s all right. Kay’s the worst.”

  “Well, be warned, then. The King has asked Kay to meet us at Nob’s Hill for the midday meal.”

  “Oh, God,” she groaned, watching as Arthur, Lancelot, and Bedwyr came galloping back to us, a pair of hares slung across the King’s saddle.

  But as the men approached, Elaine sat up straighter, and her eyes grew brighter, and color came back to her cheeks. The King’s mare came to a sliding stop, and Arthur tossed the hares to a servant.

  “Lady Elaine,” he said politely, inclining his head.

  Elaine’s color deepened ever so slightly as she dropped her eyes. “My lord King.”

  “Guinevere.” He turned to me, smiling. “That’s five altogether. Shall we head toward the woodland and show Ebon some fat partridges?”

  “Certainly, my lord, if we have enough hares to serve in hall tonight.”

  “We can always hunt for more on the way back. The game is so thick hereabouts it’s hard not to trample it underfoot.”

  “Then by all means let’s try the woods. Lancelot,” I said, addressing him directly and seeing the startled look in his eyes, “perhaps you would fall back and ride with the lady Elaine?”

  Lancelot bent from the waist. “Whatever my good Queen pleases,” he replied, and obeyed. Arthur shot me a quick look but said nothing, and then we were off.

  Hawking in woodland was difficult, but it was how I had learned in Wales. Everything I flew Ebon at, he killed, and he made us ride hard only once. Then, in a furious pursuit through the woodland tracks, Zephyr’s training paid off. We flew over trees and brush in our path and landed both hawk and kill neatly. When Arthur, who had been close behind me until the last obstacle, came up, he found the falcon hooded on my arm and the partridge in my pouch, and Zephyr and I calmly awaiting him. He cantered up to me, took in the situation at a glance, and laughed aloud. Then he swung the mare’s haunches into Zephyr’s, threw an arm about my waist, and, half lifting me from the horse, kissed me.

  “What a woman you are,” he said roughly.

  “My lord,” I replied almost shyly, “it was nothing. We did it daily in Gwynedd, Ebon and Zephyr and I.”

  “You are a team, and no mistake. How did you teach your mare to jump so effortlessly? Could Lancelot teach our mounts, do you think?”

  “I’m sure he could. I think all horses know how to do it; you just have to learn how to tell them, and then how to allow them.”

  “Is that all?” His smile was mischievous. Some way off we heard our closest followers fighting through the brush.

  “Fly him again, Gwen! The escort can take care of themselves. How many can he take in a day?”

  “Why, he caught five the day I met—” I stopped suddenly, frozen. “—the day your Companions came to Wales,” I finished lamely, coloring deeply. I cast my eyes down, afraid to look at him. There was a long silence. I tried and tried to meet his eyes, but I could not. At length he spoke, and his voice was flat, without any anger, but without his warmth.

  “Yes. Lancelot told me of your meeting.”

  My eyes flew up to his at that. “He did?”

  His face was shuttered. I could read nothing in it, but it broke my heart to see it so.

  “You sat in a clearing upon your white mare, with the black hawk hooded on your arm, your mantle thrown back, lovelier than a thousand springtimes, your eyes alight, and your cheeks glowing with youth and good health, and you sang to the birds in the trees, and they answered you.”

  He said it as if by rote, watching me steadily. The words were the words of a man in love, and the flat voice repeated that man’s words, knowing them for what they were.

  He waited. I seemed to feel his kiss still on my lips; I seemed to hear, beyond the realm of sound, a cry born of need. Then he spoke.

  “He is my closest friend and first among the Companions. I made him knight. For me he has forsaken his home and his kin; he shall be by my side as long as I hold Britain. I shall not send him away.”

  I licked my dry lips and tried to keep my voice from shaking.

  “My lord Arthur.” It came out in a whisper. “I am no threat to the love you bear him, or that he bears you. I cannot come between you; do not fear it. I am but a woman.”

  I paused, and the King said, with a flicker of warmth, “Only a woman!”

  “I would cut my wrist before I would bring dishonor to Britain. And what is a maid’s life, or a man’s, either, beside that?”

  He moved at that; his chin lifted, the cold passed from his eyes. I moved Zephyr closer until we were knee to knee. Then I placed my hand upon his own and looked up into his eyes. “Arthur of Britain. I am thine.”

  He looked down at me, and his reserve left him suddenly. I was in his arms and he kissed me slowly, tenderly and long.

  A horse nickered nearby, and he released me. I did not look up; I knew who it was. The escort was coming up, and I heard the King give the orders for moving off toward Nob Hill. Neither Lancelot nor Elaine could bring themselves to speak to me, so I rode beside Arthur, who wanted me near him. He knew, I thought helplessly, exactly what he was about. Again, I had been dazzled by the sun.

  So life continued for six weeks, past midsummer. Every day brought a new adventure. Arthur’s Companions accepted me, even Kay, and after the day of that first hawking party, there was even admiration in their bearing toward me. They drilled daily, held sword practice, tested their strength with wrestling and their aim with spears. As a group, they were a deadly fighting weapon in the King’s hand, and the point had to be kept sharp.

  Work on the Round Hall, which Arthur was building to hold the round table Pellinore had given him, went steadily forward. It was to be the Council chamber where all petitions would be heard and judgments given. I set my women to weaving a banner for the wall behind the King’s chair, following the design upon his day robe. And I myself began work on a hanger for the King’s great Sword.

  I had twelve ladies-in-waiting by the time Arthur left. Now that there was a queen in Caer Camel, noble ladies from all over Britain sent their daughters to court to serve the Queen and to get husbands from among the Companions. Young men from the four corners of Britain came to take service with Arthur and trained rigorously, hoping to be accepted some day as one of the King’s Companions.

  So our population grew, and so did the town’s. The city that came to be called Camelot was begun that summer, as tradesmen, artisans, physicians, musicians, and skilled workmen of every sort came flocking to the castle grounds, and brought their families. Arthur, or perhaps Merlin, had foreseen this, and had a plan for the city. That summer the foundations were laid.

  And the King began that summer the long and difficult work of binding the kingdoms into one Kingdom and keeping the nation together with justice and laws, now that the Saxons no longer threatened. As he told me himself, this was in some ways harder than fighting battles.

  “That, at least, I was born for,” he said slowly, his gaze far away. “Once I took the Sword of Britain into my hand, I knew it. Fighting was always easy for me. As natural as drawing breath. But this,” he said, his eyes coming to focus on the four walls of the chamber, “this will be the real test. Peace makes men fractious. Can I hold them together? Will they follow a king who no longer leads them into battle?”

  “They will follow you,” I replied with complete certainty. He smiled.

  “So at least you and Merlin are agreed,” he said.

  Of the great enchanter I saw nothing, and Arthur said no more about hi
m, though he rode out two or three times to his house in the nearby hills to visit. Rumor had it the old magician was failing and doted upon his assistant, Niniane, whom he was training to take his place. I was astonished that he chose a woman to replace him. Wasn’t this the man who had said to me, “It is not a thing for a maid to know”? But Arthur seemed not to mind, and I could not ask.

  The High King called a council of kings in York for the first week in September to settle a territorial dispute that had arisen and to cement the federation of the northern lords. The night before he left, he stayed late at council. It had been his custom during that peaceful, carefree summer to retire shortly after I and my ladies had left hall, and to come to me in my chamber where we would talk long on the terrace, or stroll in my garden, before he came to my bed. Not since that first night had I set foot in his own room. I assumed that this was how he wished it, and I did not think to change the pattern. But that night, although I was awake when he finally came upstairs, he did not come in. I heard him say good night to Varric, and I saw the lamp turned low, and then I heard his restless pacing across the room and back. I fancied he stopped once at the curtain, and I waited expectantly, but he resumed his pacing and did not come in.

  Silently I slipped out of bed and tiptoed to the curtain. I did not know whether my interruption would be welcomed, but there was something in the cadence of his tread, in the fitful pace and hesitations, that made me think he was not working out some problem but some turmoil of heart.

  I lifted the edge of the curtain. “Arthur?”

  He stopped at once and turned. “Gwen?”

  “My lord, may I come in?”

  “Of course you may come in. You are always welcome here.” He strode across the room and took me in his arms. “I thought you were asleep, but I am glad you are not. We leave at dawn, and I have things to say to you.”

  I nestled against his chest, and he hugged me, his hands caressing my hair. For a moment we stood so, and then he led me to the bed and sat me down upon it.

  “I have not offended you, Arthur?”

  He looked startled. “Offended me?”

  “Why did you not come to me, but stayed in here, pacing?”

  He laughed lightly. “My dear young Queen,” he said, still smiling, “I thought you must be asleep. I have lain with you every night for six weeks. It is enough. I thought I ought not to wake you.”

  I stared at him, frankly astonished. “But, my lord, we are married!”

  He looked puzzled and then, understanding, grinned broadly and knelt at my feet. Protesting, I reached out to raise him, but he just clasped my hands in his. The joy that lit his face delighted me.

  “What innocence! No one has told you anything about it, have they? Do you imagine that Pellinore lies with Alyse every night?”

  “I—I never thought of Alyse with—I never thought about it. But I thought it was what you do, my lord.”

  He kissed my palms, close to laughter. “And so it has been, my sweet. But I have so little time. We have each our own chamber because we are entitled to privacy, at least when we sleep. You are as free to come to me as I am to come to you, and we are both just as free to stay apart the night. There should be no offense in it. There might be many reasons why I would not come: If I were ill, or tired—”

  “Or angry with me.”

  “Yes, it is possible. Should that happen, you may always come to me to charm me out of ill humor. It would not take you long.”

  I smiled at the compliment, and his eyes blazed.

  “Would you—I should be afraid you might refuse me if I came in uninvited.”

  He took a deep breath and stilled himself. “Don’t be afraid of me, Guinevere. I might—it is not unheard of. But at this moment I find it hard to envision. And you, likewise, are free to refuse me.”

  I stared at him in wonder. I thought this to be against the law. “I would never refuse you, my lord!”

  He groaned softly and laid his head in my lap. “I believe you mean that,” he whispered. I stroked his hair, which sprang up thick and soft between my fingers.

  “Of course I mean it. I shall miss you, Arthur.”

  Still on his knees, he raised his face to me and let his soul speak in his eyes. “Thou hast my heart,” he said softly in Latin. “Know this and take care.”

  For answer, I took his upturned face between my hands, leaned down, and kissed him.

  At length he arose, walked to the table, pouring water from the carafe there, and drank. When he returned, he sat down beside me and with a solemn face placed his hand gently against my belly.

  “Guinevere, I must ask you this, though the gods know how little it matters to me. I have lain with you every night for these six weeks and have not known you to bleed. Is it possible you carry my child?”

  “I know not, my lord. I have no sickness.”

  “But you have not bled.”

  “Oh, but that is nothing. My bleeding comes only once in six months.”

  He sat silent, and as he looked at me I saw shock, anger, fear, and relief cross his face.

  “No one told me,” he said slowly.

  “Is it so important, my lord?” I asked. I had not known it was a matter for distress.

  He shrugged. “In truth, I do not know. But I suspect so. No matter. For myself, I almost hope you are not with child. You are so young, and I could not bear—to be the cause of another disaster.”

  He looked in such pain that I leaned over to kiss his rough cheek. “What will be, will be, my lord.”

  But it was a mistake to remind him of Merlin. His face went white, and he rose quickly from the bed and took a turn about the room. At last, calmer, he came and stood before me, a very bitter smile upon his lips. “It is growing clearer,” he said cryptically. “But let be. We shall know in time. As for more practical matters, I must tell you that, whereas before I was content to leave Caer Camel in Kay’s hands whenever I left, he is my seneschal only, and not a fighting man. From now on I must leave in my place a knight who can protect you and who can represent me in council and hall alike. I have chosen Lancelot.”

  I saw it coming before he said it and schooled my face. Indeed, I knew not which was greater, my joy or my despair. “Has he consented to this, my lord?”

  Arthur looked surprised and answered sharply. “I am his King. I did not ask for his consent.”

  “I meant—” I started, but he waved me silent.

  “I know what you meant. He is the finest knight in all of Britain. In all truth, Guinevere, I could leave you in no safer hands. If you wish to know whether he is pleased or unhappy to be so appointed, I may tell you I think he is both. You are to sit at his side at table, and in the Hall of Meeting when you will. I have given orders that you are to be consulted if anything of importance arises, and in all cases of domestic disputes.” The twinkle had returned to his eye, and I slowly let my breath out in relief.

  “You are most generous, my lord.”

  “I hope,” he said slowly, taking my hand and laying it against his cheek, “I hope I am also wise.”

  I met his eyes, then, and found them searching me once more. I rose and, going to the triple lamp, blew out the lights.

  15 MELWAS

  The King was gone four months. At first it was awkward seeing Lancelot so often, sitting by his side at meals, sitting by his side in the meeting hall. Our conversation, to Elaine’s amusement, was so stiff and formal that several of the Companions who had been left behind thought Lancelot disliked me, and I him.

  We went riding often, always with an escort of armed guards, and usually with some of my women, as well. For the first two months the elders frowned and clucked as I rode out, but as it gradually became clear I did not carry the King’s child, they let me be and awaited Arthur’s return.

  Lancelot obeyed Arthur’s instructions to the letter. He shared with me the news of every courier who came, received every visitor in the King’s name with me at his side, discussed with me the judgment
s he was asked to pass, and in general treated me as a trusted counsellor. If, when he looked at me, he let his eyes linger, or when he inclined his head to hear my speech, he stayed so a little long, no one noticed but I. And if my dreams were haunted by a pair of cool, gray eyes and a solemn, full-lipped mouth, it was no one’s business but my own.

  Every evening he took me to mass. He was, I discovered, a much more ardent Christian than Arthur. Ygraine had been devout, and she had had her son christened, but she had not raised him. Kay’s household had been Christian, and as a boy Arthur had learned the ways of the Christian faith, but it was the pagan Merlin who had made him the man he was. I recalled his references to Mithra, the soldiers’ god, the Light, and his calling upon older gods than that from time to time. But although he went to mass twice a week and worshipped no other God that I could see, and although for ceremony he wore an old enamel brooch of the Virgin set in copper Ygraine had bequeathed him, I did not know which god held his spirit. It seemed to me that Lancelot’s faith, while perhaps stronger, gave him less ease of heart. He prayed most fervently as we knelt side by side in the chapel, but seemed to find little relief in it.

  I spent nearly half of every day with my women and the other half with Lancelot. While the builders were at work on the Round Hall I asked Lancelot if I might have two to build a fountain for my garden, and he sent them without delay. He denied me nothing.

  Gradually we slipped into an easier friendship, for our interests lay together, but there was always a watchfulness between us. We took great care to observe the courtesies between Queen and courtier and to be always attended. Only once did we find ourselves alone, and that was Elaine’s doing. I had taken both Lancelot and Elaine to the top of the northwest tower to show them they could really see the sea from Caer Camel. It was near sunset, and we stood side by side on the turret as the sun dipped below the level of the land and painted the sky with broad strokes of color. Slowly the light faded, and night drew down.

  “I love it up here.” I sighed, drawing my cloak closer. “It reminds me so of home. Arthur brought me up here on our wedding night, to see the sea. To put me at my ease. I guess he thought I was nervous.”