“Thou knowest I do not, Sir Gareth,” his companion’s face was tortured, “thou art talking of another Gwen, not I.” Lady Gwendolyn looked up at the mother she thought she had lost and once again the impossibility of her situation threatened to overwhelm her. “I have been spoken to today most contemptuously, as if I were some malicious child spreading falsehoods. But I know only how to speak the truth, no matter how foreign my sentiments may sound. This world is so difficult for me!”
“Did those media people not believe you, Gwen?” Ceri was most concerned. “What did you say to them?”
Gareth answered for her. “I introduced one journalist to her, Ms Griffiths, and Gwen spoke of knights going out to battle; of how they are ready to sacrifice themselves for Camelot; of how she wept for one going to his death…Gwen, you said you had seen all this since your mother had died. How’s that?…I…I don’t understand.”
“No more than I, sire. But ‘tis all true. I know not what magic has brought me here but I vow to thee that before my swoon I lived at Camelot just as surely as I live and stand here before thee now. And folk there do not treat strangers so roughly as they do here. Thou hast heard me speak of the love, friendship and comradeship that surrounds one there. ‘Tis all true. If only it existed here…”
“It does, Gwen, my only one. I love you dearly, even more now that you suffer so.” Her mother came forward to wrap her arms around her and hold her close.
Gwendolyn burst into tears. “Yet this is the most difficult of all!” she sobbed. “I saw thee taken from me when I was but a child. But here you are! What magic can do this? Thou art my mother, I see that as plainly as I see my face in yours. And yet I do not belong here! This is not my world. How can I bear such contradiction?”
Ceri Griffiths looked across over the top of her daughter’s head at the young man who was looking on with concern and confusion in his face. “We’ve been through this a number of times since she came out of hospital, Gareth. What can I say? Only that I’ve come to believe her. She is my daughter from a past age. The daughter I had before and that you knew at school has disappeared and has transformed into this one. I’ve found a new, entirely lovable daughter!” She lifted up Gwendolyn’s face and kissed her.
The Lady Gwendolyn smiled back. She dried her eyes, thanked her mother and turned to face her friend once more. “I know this must be a puzzle to thee, Sir Gareth. For certainly it is incomprehensible to me. Thou must understand I have struggled with this for days and days now. I wake in the morning and look about and see a world that I do not recognise; I wonder where is the one I have left behind. I have wondered if I am going crazy, as surely as others must have looked at me and thought the same. But hear this – for there is yet more magic that I have not told thee of before. Not all is left behind in Camelot for there are others here that in some way have come with me. I see them here as I saw them before. I recognise Merlyn – who others call Dai Mervyn. And…and I recognise thee, Sir Gareth. Thou art the one I have watched from afar at Camelot. Thou didst live there with me as thou dost now, here! Thou wert the squire who survived the battle that claimed your knight that I spoke of earlier. It was thee! I watched thee, bloodied but unbowed, carry back the body of the man thou loved and served with such honour. I watched from above the courtyard when thou knelt before King Arthur and he didst knight thee. Thou art the most courageous, the most valiant, the most gentle yet most fierce in defence of Camelot of all those that I have seen at court. And truly there are many ladies of that court who have watched thee as I have, though none of us have come close and shown their sentiments, nor won thy affection. Until recently, that is…” The Lady Gwendolyn lowered her eyes. “Until the day that I spoke with thee in this world…in the tournament of rugby…” Her cheeks coloured.
Gareth Jones looked at this blushing young woman before him and yet again he was lost for words, lost in admiration, completely surprised for the third time in as many days by what she had to say. He was a big man; broken-nosed and not always successful with women, but confident enough in university; sure of himself in most company as he was on the rugby field…but this attractive, sensitive and articulate young lady had an outlook on life that turned everything he knew inside out. She wasn’t crazy, it seemed…but she was making him so.
“G…Gwen…” he stuttered. “I know nothing of Camelot…”
“Perhaps not, Sir Gareth. But I knew thee there, nonetheless. Perhaps it is a different thee there as it is a different me here? These are conundrums that none of us, not even Merlyn, can fathom. How is it I lost my mother in Camelot but found her here? But whatever mysteries are being played out between us all, I see thee the same noble knight now as I did before. Only closer; more magnificent.” She curtsied before him. “Thou hast captured my heart like thou hast captured those of many other admirers.”
Gareth looked down at Gwen, the girl he once thought he knew, and then up at Ceri Griffiths. He was flabbergasted. Ceri grinned. She recognised what he was going through – the same complex of emotions that both she and Dai Mervyn had experienced.
“Beautiful, isn’t she? If this is what Camelot does, I’d like to go there! Worth knocking yourself out for, don’t you think?”
Gareth Jones still couldn’t speak. He stood back from the table where tea had been served; he hadn’t touched a drop, nor could he now. He needed to get out and think. A last he found his voice.
“If you don’t mind, Ms Griffiths, Gwen, I think I’d better be going. I think I need to walk a bit and work things out. This has been a most…er…a most awesome day…”
Ceri smiled. “Of course, of course. Gwen, see him out will you?”
The Lady Gwendolyn accompanied Gareth Jones to the front door. She shyly opened it and went with him as far as the outside porch. The weather had not improved: still dark, heavy and overcast. A storm was undoubtedly brewing.
“I thank thee again, Sir Gareth, for thy support today. I shall see thee again in the morrow?” She looked up at him, her eyes shining.
“I’ll be there,” Gareth replied. He looked down at her and bent over to give her a farewell embrace, but stopped short. He looked again at her open expression, into her clear, cloudless eyes. She was not at all the cool, teasing, unattainable, fundamentally selfish female he had known before. She was altogether deeper, sincere, vulnerable, generous and more courageous than he in expressing her feelings. She was irresistible. He put an arm around her waist, drew her to him and kissed her softly on the lips.
An electric storm blistered between the two of them.
Gareth let go of her, slowly, reluctantly, his heart beating.
The Lady Gwendolyn almost fell. Her legs shook. Everything inside her seemed to be trembling. It was her turn now to be speechless, stupefied, shaken to her core. Such things did not happen in Camelot. Courtly behaviour was more ritualised; affections were announced at a distance and permission was requested to approach a little closer. Not too close, of course. But this kiss awoke emotions deep down inside her that she could not control. Her body reacted in a way that she had never felt before, as if someone other than herself was in control…and that person, that Gwen Price, was telling her to throw her body at him and indulge in the most intimate of liaisons. The temperature on the front porch soared and it wasn’t the weather that caused it.
Gareth stood very close and lowered his head once more. “You mother is right,” he whispered. “You’re beautiful.” He kissed her again.
Chapter 11
LANCELOT, GUINEVERE AND THE KING
When Gwen and her entourage returned to Camelot they found Sir Lancelot dismounted in the inner bailey and speaking with Merlyn, a little way in front of his workshop. The two had to draw aside to watch the royal carriage and its mounted guard enter the castle and wheel round in a wide circle before coming to a halt. Gwen was wise to custom now and remained seated inside until one of the coachmen descended and held the door open for her to emerge. Sir Gareth was already waiting for her so she paused t
o allow Kate to bustle forward, holding various items of luggage before curtsying before her knight and protector and thanking him for his gallant service. Sir Gareth bowed, thanked her in return and requested her leave to attend to the horses and unpacking. It was all very prettily done. Merlyn signalled his approval from the other side of the courtyard. Gwen gave him a big smile and then crossed over to see him.
“Welcome back, milady,” Merlyn called out, nodding to acknowledge Gwen’s efforts at being ladylike. “I trust thy excursion was successful? And look, another here is safely returned from a quest in the north: Sir Lancelot has been risking life and limb in his search through the misty mountains.”
Gwen bobbed down once more. “Greetings, Sir Knight.” She grinned at him. She had not got close to Lancelot before and she noted he must be in his late thirties, with dark eyes and complexion and he was even hunkier than she had thought on first acquaintance. “Hast thou fought off any dragons or other fearsome creatures in your long sojourn?” She couldn’t resist flashing him the old ‘come-on’ look in her eyes.
Sir Lancelot did not catch the teasing note in her voice and nor could he have known that Gwen had once been to the misty, rain-drizzled Snowdon massive when she was younger and that she knew well enough that no such monsters lived thereabouts. Only stocky Welsh slate miners and sheep farmers with their various dogs lived nearby. The proud knight he was, however, he bowed before his queen’s favourite lady-in-waiting and smiled back into her glittering eyes.
“Nay, milady. I have not drawn my sword in anger in all this past fortnight. But I have returned with Welsh gold gleaned from the rivers I have crossed and have now asked the trusted Merlyn here if he might fashion some jewellery for our beloved queen as a token of my devotion.”
“Gold, you say. Goodness!” Gwen was impressed.
“Aye,” said Merlyn. “An unexpected but most valued reward. But what of thee, milady? Hast thou brought back what thou sought?”
“I have, Merlyn. And I have also returned with my own unexpected and I hope most valuable find. Here he comes towards us: Chen Ka Wai – the Chinese cook!”
The wizened little man had slid off the back of one of the pack horses that had been carrying him and he now came pattering over to meet his hosts. As before, he stood a little distant at first and bowed to his waist twice to each of the men in front of him.
Gwen waved her hand towards her companions: “Ka Wai, this is Sir Lancelot, the most intrepid knight of Camelot, if not of all Wales and England, and with him – our most honoured magician and physician, the famous Merlyn, whose name will most undoubtedly ring through the ages.” It was a grandiloquent introduction. Gwen was beginning to get the hang of all this chivalry business and threw herself into it with a flourish.
“I wonder, Merlyn,” Gwen continued, “if you might introduce Mr Chen here to our kitchens? I can’t wait to sample the Chinese food he prepares.”
Chen Ka Wai was hopping up and down impatiently as Gwen was speaking. He had been looking all around the castle and courtyard from the moment he had arrived and he was now clearly quite agitated about something.
“Not just cook, mistress. Not just cook. There are many things here interesting. Mr Merlyn, sir, this your place behind?” He pointed towards the workshop with its bench cluttered with all sorts of bottles, glasses and liquids of various colours and consistency. “And Mr Merlyn, sir, what you building here? Sword in sky?” High above the courtyard the Chinaman had caught sight of the lightning rod that was being constructed to lead from the tallest tower down into the ground.
So he was not just a cook, Gwen realised. The way he was bursting with curiosity and enthusiasm she guessed he must be a sort of mini-Merlyn; someone who was used to producing his own kind of magic. Maybe it was best that he didn’t go straight to the kitchens after all but just stayed here for the time being and had a look at Merlyn’s workshop.
Merlyn quickly came to the same conclusion. The elderly magician was quick to see the potential of having this Asian assistant: between the two of them they could perhaps cook up all sorts of potions and remedies, one of which – with the help of plentiful oranges – might assist to bring down a person’s temperature and help with the flu that was now spreading one by one through Camelot. Not exactly an out-of-control epidemic, but nonetheless, after passing from the queen and her ladies-in-waiting, it was now beginning to reduce the manpower of the castle. King Arthur himself was complaining of aches and pains and had taken to his bed with fever.
“Milady, Sir Lancelot, with thy leave methinks I should begin first with preparing some medicament for the king. The gold, sire, I will lock away for the time being. Mr Chen – come with me: I should like to hear of what concoctions thou hast heard of in the land from whence thee came…”
Gwen was left for the moment with Sir Lancelot. Kate, Sir Gareth, Brangwyn and the others were all busy unloading the carriage and packhorses. The sack of oranges, Merlyn had already commandeered. Maybe, Gwen thought, maybe it was time for a little flirting?
“So, gold for the queen, Sir Lancelot? Is there no other lady of the court worthy of thy attentions? Have you thought of no other in all the time you’ve been away?” She shot him a coy sideways look beneath fluttering eyelashes. This was a provocative taunt since Sir Lancelot could hardly concede he was solely enamoured with the king’s wife.
“My Lady Gwendolyn, thine own fair image did invade my dreams for many a night whilst I was far from Camelot. Thy beauty didst likewise dominate my thoughts whilst bargaining for gold with both troglodytes and giants who inhabit and mine the mountains in the North. But, milady, how canst I return with gifts only for thee and ignore thy mistress, the queen of this citadel? ‘Twould be a most ungallant, unchivalrous gesture. But indeed it pains me much to shower golden gifts on another whilst my eyes cannot tear themselves away from following your faintest shadow.”
This of course was all lies and hogwash, as Gwen full knew, but it was delivered with such panache that she felt she ought to reply in kind. “Sir Knight, thy pain is sufficient recompense for me. Thy sentiments so gallantly expressed win my heart completely. Surely thou shalt haunt my dreams now, and many of my waking hours, in the manner that thou accuseth me…” With that, she curtsied low before him, casting her face down, more to stop herself grinning than in a show of modesty.
Gwen’s words had had their effect, however. Sir Lancelot’s proud head rose. He felt that he had won the devotion from this young admirer that he duly deserved as Camelot’s most famous warrior; that his own feelings for the queen had been well-covered, and indeed this favourite of the monarch who bowed beneath him, this highly attractive lady in her prime of femininity now seemed to be a potential conquest. He was well-pleased with himself.
Whilst this little charade was being acted out, Sir Gareth had approached – though as chivalry dictated he waited at a distance. He could not come any closer without invitation from his lady and nor would he interrupt the courtly advances of Sir Lancelot, the senior knight and many years his superior. He struggled to control his emotions, however, seeing the fair maiden who had chosen him for favour evidently wilting now beneath the charms of Camelot’s prime lady-killer.
Gwen rose and turned to see Sir Gareth watching her. His face was a picture. Brilliant! Nothing like having two knights compete over one to make a young girl feel like she had the world and all its menfolk at her fingertips.
“Sir Lancelot, here stands my lord and protector who has been with me these last two days and who faced down an ugly crew of ruffians to win me my Chinaman.” She held out her hand to Sir Gareth to beckon him forward.
Sir Gareth duly bowed and took a couple of steps forward, his insides seething. The Lady Gwendolyn was all smiles and intimacy towards Sir Lancelot and she was now calling for her guardian knight as if he were her favourite wolfhound to salute his superior. He, of course, had no option other than to do his lady’s bidding. He stepped forward two more paces and went down upon one knee before the ki
ng’s first knight and lieutenant.
Sir Lancelot showed his pleasure. “Well done, Sir Knight! Thou bringest honour and credit to Camelot yet again. Dost thou knowest who were these ruffians of which my lady speaks?”
Sir Gareth gave no hint of the emotions running within him as Sir Lancelot referred to the Lady Gwendolyn as ‘my lady’. The hierarchy at court ruled supreme. He answered truthfully – though with a blank expression: “Saxon barbarians, sire. They came by ship to Caerleon, though I believe they have now departed.”
“’Tis just as well. Such folk always bring trouble – the king and I have fought them before. They are a greedy and envious people in my opinion – bent only on destruction and capturing the riches of others. Congratulations again, my friend, for standing firm against such an uncivilised rabble.”
A muffled ‘kerwhump!’ – like a dragon’s cough – disturbed any further conversation. Smoke billowed forth from the workshop behind into which Merlyn and the Chinaman had earlier disappeared. The two of them now emerged, staggering out into the courtyard – both with blackened faces but with white smiles.
The two knights, having heard nothing like this ever before and fearing some outlandish attack, had both leapt up brandishing their swords. Gwen guessed, however, that something entirely different had been going on.
“Don’t tell me, Merlyn, that you’ve been preparing the king’s medicine, ‘cos I would reckon that that mixture you’ve just ignited would blow out his insides!”
“Ahem, milady, a most unfortunate accident! Forgive me, sires, for causing any alarm. In truth, the king’s medicine is already prepared – it needed only a little orange juice to make it more palatable. In the meantime, Mr Chen here was showing me an entirely different concoction…”
“Yes. Different concoction. Different ingredients. Different result. Most interesting…” The Chinaman was busy dusting himself down and nodding thoughtfully.
Welcome to Camelot Page 17