A Step Beyond

by Nancy M Bell

  “The serving wench…she came out of one of the doors as we passed and struck at Lancelot with a long butchering knife. Lancelot said to tell you, you were right. You should have slit her throat when you and he had the chance,” Queen Gwenhwyfar said in disgust. “Chivalrous to a fault is our Lancelot,” she finished in an almost inaudible voice.

  “We were both loath to do her harm when her only crime was being in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Gawain said grimly. “Would that I had the decision to make over again, the outcome of this day would be a different one.”

  The sound of the Lady Nuina’s arrival was heralded by Eldon’s frantic whinny and the thunder of his hooves as the horse crashed carelessly through the kale yard. Eldon made his way across the laundry yard by simply charging through the lines of hanging clothes. The stallion plunged to a halt at Lancelot’s feet with laundry shrouding him like a ghost.

  The Lady Nuina struggled to free herself from the material covering her, and Gawain grinned in spite of himself at the less than lady-like language issuing from beneath the sheet. He reached up, pulled the linen free from the lady and lifted her down to set her feet on the ground. Gawain held her against him for a moment longer than was strictly necessary and was rewarded by her quick smile. She squeezed his hand before she turned to Lancelot.

  Quickly, the Lady Nuina knelt and raised Lancelot’s closed eyelids. She removed the blood soaked pad from Lancelot’s thigh and pulled a small sharp silver knife from her belt to slice open his clothing and expose the wound. Gawain realized he underestimated the lady once again by assuming she was unarmed earlier. He closed his eyes briefly as the Lady Nuina probed the long deep slash on Lancelot’s inner thigh. She replaced the pad and added more to it from the pile of bandages Arthur had cut.

  “Where is that boy?” the Lady Nuina glared at Ailim. “Tell him to get his arse here now.”

  “He comes.” Ailim backed up a step at the fury in the Lady Nuina’s eyes.

  Alain made his way to them by the expedient method of following Eldon’s trail of destruction through the fallen clothes lines. The lad slid to a stop upon reaching them and carefully placed an armful of neatly labelled packets on the grass by the Lady Nuina’s knees. His breath came in sobbing gasps; sweat poured down his face and soaked the back of his tunic. His chestnut mare and the Lady Nuina’s palfrey picked their way carefully across the mine field of fallen lines and sheets and stopped beside Ailim and Eldon.

  “Find the packet marked ‘Alum’,” the Lady Nuina instructed Alain. “You do know how to read do you not?” she added as an afterthought.

  “Well enough for this, My Lady. My mother was a healer of sorts for our village before she died.” Alain sorted through the packets with confidence and handed the lady the requested item.

  The Lady Nuina cut the thong holding the packet closed and with a swift movement removed the pad from Lancelot’s thigh, dumping the thick white powder into the gaping wound. She waited briefly and then emptied the rest of the packet after the first. A frown creased her brow as the flow of blood slowed but did not cease.

  “He has lost too much blood already. We need to stop this soon, or he will not survive.” Nuina met Arthur’s worried eyes. “Alain see if there is more alum in that pile. Did you find the castle leech in your travels?”

  Alain shook his head and rummaged carefully through the pile of packets, producing another pouch of the white powder.

  “Can you find the makings for a fire, and I will need a bigger dagger,” she said tersely as she wiped the blade of the small knife with a clean cloth. “His only hope is if we can cauterize the wound and seal the blood vessel to stop the bleeding.”

  Gawain hurried to the kale yard to gather the remains of the trellis and herb beds Eldon destroyed in his mad rush to get to Lancelot’s side. Alain raced off into the keep to find flint or a torch to ignite the wood, completely forgetting there was a flint in Ailim’s saddle bags.

  He returned at almost the same moment Gawain dropped his load of wood by the castle wall. Gawain’s hands shook as he shaved some splinters off a piece of wood for kindling before shredding some linen, as well. He tried to control his rapid breathing, but his fear for Lancelot set his heart racing and did nothing to help him breathe normally. The color fled from Lancelot’s face as the blood pooled under his wounded leg. The fire leapt to life; Gawain added more wood to the blaze, until it burned strong and hot enough to satisfy his lady. She grasped Gawain’s dagger and held the blue metal of the blade in the cleansing flame. The blade glowed red and then white as the metal gathered in the heat of the fire. Arthur and Gawain held the unconscious man down while Queen Gwenhwyfar stuffed the sleeve of her gown in her mouth to stifle her scream. At Arthur’s bidding, Alain grasped her arm and stood between her and Lancelot to prevent her interfering in any way. With a quick glance at Arthur and Gawain, Nuina laid the white hot blade along the exposed wound where it gaped open. Gawain breathed through his mouth to avoid the stench of blood and burning flesh that rose along with the hissing smoke.

  Lancelot started, his eyes wide and staring as his body strained to raise his shoulders from the ground. Gawain tightened his hold on his friend and kept his gaze grimly on the rough stone of the wall in front of him. Dimly, he was aware Eldon was frantic and trying to get to Lancelot to protect him. Ailim stood between Eldon and the small group on the ground, holding the desperate stallion at bay with snapping teeth and striking front feet. At last the Lady Nuina set the hot blade aside and surveyed the wound. Gawain risked a look and felt his stomach rise in protest at the puckered blackened flesh of Lancelot’s thigh.

  “The bleeding seems to have stopped, for now at least,” the Lady Nuina said with a small smile of satisfaction.

  “What now, My Lady?”

  “We need to get him indoors, and he needs undisturbed rest. The less we move him the better, until we are certain the wound is finished bleeding,” she said crisply.

  “I have arranged a chamber for him with a clean hearth and a sturdy bed,” Alain said proudly and blushed with pleasure at the lady’s smile of approval.

  The Lady Nuina gathered her things and rose gracefully to her feet. She straightened her skirts and stood aside while Gawain and King Arthur lifted Lancelot between them. Alain led the way into the castle, with Gawain and Arthur bearing Lancelot following on his heels. The Lady Nuina brought up the rear, and Queen Gwenhwyfar, quite forgotten, trailed along far behind.

  The war horses waited outside by the narrow door. Eldon went so far as to thrust his huge head and neck into the opening. Gawain wished heartily his hands were free to cover his ears as Eldon’s loud whinny of anguish filled the narrow corridor and echoed off the walls.

  Alain led them up a flight of stairs, pushed open a heavy door, and stood aside to let the two warriors bear their wounded comrade into the sunny room. The casement window stood open, and a fresh soft breeze blew through the room. The Lady Nuina smiled her approval at Alain as she bustled by him into the room and threw the coverlet back on the wide bed that occupied most of the floor space. Gawain and Arthur gently settled Lancelot on the linen sheets and backed away to leave the Lady Nuina room to work.

  Alain busied himself by pushing a narrow table over to the bedside for the Lady Nuina to lay out her healing supplies and commanded the serving girl who hovered by the door to bring hot water and whatever else the lady should require. Gawain sank gratefully down on a chest by the wall and leaned back against the rough stone. He watched in amusement as Alain marshalled his army of conscripted servants to do his bidding without question.

  “We’ll make a knight of you yet, young Alain,” Gawain told him.

  Alain grinned at him and hustled over to the door to take another pitcher of hot water from the serving girl’s hands. Arthur paced back and forth like a caged lion in the small chamber, a deep frown furrowing his brow. Every now and then he allowed himself a look at Queen Gwenhwyfar, who sat on the only chair in the room without taking her eyes from Lance
lot’s pale face.

  The Lady Nuina worked briskly over Lancelot, wrestling him out of his light mail armour, cutting the clothing from his body, and easing him into a night shift with Gawain’s help. She sent Alain scurrying down to the herb room to fetch an evil smelling blue-grey pot of salve and some cobwebs. She spread the salve thickly into the crusted blackened wound and bound it with the cobwebs before padding it with clean linen and binding it again with linen strips. The Lady Nuina sat back, wiped the sweat from her face with the hem of her sleeve, and met King Arthur’s anxious gaze.

  “I have done what I can. The rest is up to him. The bleeding is stopped, and I have done the best I can to keep it from festering. The man will need constant attention until the wound is well healed and should not be moved any distance.” The Lady Nuina promised no empty platitudes. “He may not be able to walk without a limp or ride without pain when this wound is healed. His friends must help him cope with that if it comes to pass.”

  Gwenhwyfar made an inarticulate cry, which she stifled hastily with her hand as King Arthur’s sharp gaze pierced her across the room. Arthur turned his back on the queen to speak with Gawain.

  “I will leave you and Alain to care for Lancelot and take charge of Castle Arbray until I can find a suitable trustworthy tenant to run it for me. I leave you also the Lady Nuina to continue her care of Lance, if the lady has no objections.” Arthur addressed Gawain and turned his attention at the last to the Lady Nuina.

  “As you wish, My King.” Gawain dragged himself to his feet and bowed to his liege lord and king.

  “I will stay gladly and attend Sir Lancelot if that is your wish, Sire.” The Lady Nuina bowed her head daintily. Her gaze slid toward Gwenhwyfar, who was still sitting bolt upright in her chair watching Lancelot breathe, as if she could force his life’s breath into his lungs by sheer will.

  “The queen will have no need of ladies-in-waiting where she is bound,” Arthur said shortly, interpreting the question in the Lady Nuina’s eyes.

  The Lady Nuina dropped her gaze and turned to Lancelot to wipe his face with a cool cloth. Lancelot stirred under her gentle hand and opened his eyes to look fuzzily around him in confusion. His eyes lighted on Gawain, and he passed a trembling hand over his eyes.

  “What chanced Gawain, did we win the ladies free? Where is the queen, is she unharmed?” Lancelot’s first coherent thoughts were for his queen.

  “The queen and her lady are safe thanks to you and Gawain.” King Arthur stepped into Lancelot’s line of vision and rested his hand warmly on Lancelot’s forearm.

  Gwenhwyfar leaped from her chair at the sound of Lancelot’s voice but stopped dead in her tracks as Arthur stepped between her and the bed where Lancelot lay. She stood uncertainly in the middle of the small room, and Gawain felt an unaccustomed pang of sympathy for her. Gone was the slightly haughty air she usually drew around her like a cloak and the distant look in her eyes vanished to be replaced by a desperation and sorrow painful to behold.

  “I must ride now to Cadbury and attend to the affairs of the kingdom. Gawain and the Lady Nuina stay to protect and nurse you until you are well enough. Then they will escort you home to Cadbury Castle.” Arthur’s blue eyes softened with affection, as he squeezed Lancelot’s hand in farewell.

  “I leave you now to prepare for the journey. The queen has time for a few words of thanks to her rescuers.” Arthur spared Gwenhwyfar a hard glance before turning on his heel and sweeping from the room.

  Gawain and the Lady Nuina exchanged a speaking glance and withdrew from the room to stand outside the door, which they left slightly ajar for propriety’s sake. Gawain tried very hard not to listen to the low voices issuing from the room, or the more telling periods of silence. The Lady Nuina smiled tiredly up at him, and Gawain felt his heart leap in response. Sympathy for Lancelot swelled in his heart. If in truth, Lance felt about the queen the same way he felt about the Lady Nuina, it was a hard thing indeed.

  Presently, the door swung open, and Queen Gwenhwyfar stepped out into the hall, her cloak of haughty disdain for the world around her once again firmly in place. Her pale blue eyes were red-rimmed with tears, and for a moment, her lips trembled. Gawain stood close enough to her to hear the sharp intake of breath she couldn’t control as Arthur bounded up the stairs like a great stag. The High King halted on the landing and looked the queen up and down once. Without a word, Arthur extended his arm. The queen stepped forward and laid her hand on the proffered arm, and without either looking at the other or uttering a word, the king led his queen down the stairs and out to the waiting horses in the courtyard.

  Gawain grudgingly felt admiration for Gwenhwyfar, as she held her head high and stared ahead with blank eyes. She allowed Arthur to lift her up onto her mare without protest, and she made a show of settling her skirts about her, so she could pretend not to notice her mare was bound with two lead lines, one to Gaheris and one to Mordraut. If Gawain hadn’t witnessed the scene in Lancelot’s chamber, there would have been no sign she was scared, so well did she hide her emotions. He watched as Gwenhwyfar arranged her veil to shield her face and sat rigidly erect waiting for her king to signal their departure.

  Gawain and the Lady Nuina stood side by side at the top of the stair, watching the procession leave the courtyard and canter up the green hillside until they were lost from view.

  Chapter Twelve

  Alain appeared laden with a tray of food garnered from the kitchen staff as the pair turned from the doorway and started toward Lancelot’s door.

  “Have they gone, then?” Alain asked, by way of greeting.

  “They are bound for Cadbury Castle where Arthur will go through the motions required to set aside his queen.” Gawain spoke tersely leading the way into the chamber.

  “Does the king think she played him false with King March?” Alain’s eyes were wide with amazement, perhaps finding it hard to believe a mere page was one of the first in the kingdom to learn of the queen’s disgrace and Arthur’s anger.

  “Whether she did or no doesn’t matter. It is the king’s pride which needs salvaging.” The Lady Nuina spoke harshly.

  Gawain gave her a puzzled look and gestured for Alain to place the food on the small table. Lancelot’s eyes were open, but the wounded man offered no word of opinion and lay motionless under the white linen sheet. The Lady Nuina felt his forehead and checked his wound for seepage. Satisfied with what she found, she sank into the chair vacated by Queen Gwenhwyfar. Gawain poured some wine into a bronze cup and offered it to Lancelot, who drank it in one gulp and asked for more. Gawain plied the wounded knight with the wine, inducing a drunken slumber in spite of his pain.

  “I’m not sure I agree with your methods, but the truth is, I have nothing better to dampen his pain,” the Lady Nuina said tiredly as she watched Lancelot’s chest rise and fall with his breathing. “At least the fool can’t think about dying of a broken heart if he is in a drunken stupor.”

  Gawain dropped down unto the trunk at the base of the window and ate his fill of the bread and excellent cheese Alain had procured for them. Alain cut up the garlic sausage with his belt knife and passed some to Gawain and Lady Nuina. Gawain felt much more human once the hole that was his stomach was full of food.

  “Where did Prince Tristam disappear to?” Gawain asked suddenly. He had forgotten totally about March’s son.

  “No one has seen him since the battle. The castle folk have no great love for him, so they say in the kitchens. They would turn him in for the reward King Arthur has offered in a heartbeat,” Alain informed him.

  “What of the horses? Surely they aren’t still in the laundry yard.” Gawain’s brain suddenly dredged up all sorts of loose ends.

  “They are well taken care of, Sir Gawain. They reside in the best pasture this place has to offer. Ailim is quite happy to keep Rose company.” Alain grinned widely while relaying the stallion’s message.

  As a snort of laughter exploded out of Gawain’s nose, wine slopped down his tunic. When
the laughter stopped, he wiped at his tunic with a strip of linen from the pile of bandages and was relieved to see Lancelot still slept undisturbed by his outburst.

  “Do you think the queen played the king false?” Alain returned to his earlier train of thought.

  “I would not say for certain without witnessing them together, but she was playing the harlot in the great hall at Castle Mount,” Gawain said carefully. “Arthur has said she will be sent to the cloisters at Glastonbury, where she will retire from public life and be well cared for.”

  The Lady Nuina snorted in a very unladylike manner and glared at both Gawain and Alain. “So it is the queen who is the villain here is it? No matter she had no say in who she married, or that she loved another and had to deny herself to him? No matter that the king has taken every likely female at Cadbury to his bed in an effort to prove the lack of an heir is not his fault, while the queen is supposed to turn her face and ignore his behaviour?” The Lady Nuina spat the words like daggers at them.

  “But he is the king.” Alain sought to defend Arthur.

  “He is a man,” The Lady Nuina said in disgust. “When the husband takes women to his bed and brags about his conquests, it is considered virile and manly. But when a woman does the same, or worse yet, seeks to deny her husband her body, and sometimes for very good reasons, she is branded a harlot and a whore. I have no use for Queen Morgause of the Orkneys, but some of what she says is true. A woman is not a horse or property to be bartered or used as a broodmare and then cast aside. Her body is her own, and she should be able to distribute her favors as she sees fit.”

  The Lady Nuina glared at both of them and defied them to dispute with her. Alain opened his mouth and then wisely closed it again. Gawain kept his counsel and privately thought what the lady expounded had some merit. Alain took the opportunity to exit the room in search of some pallets and bedding for Gawain and the Lady Nuina. Both indicated they would sleep in the room with Lancelot, ensuring he wasn’t left with only the lady for protection. Alain vowed to sleep across the doorway and keep guard over them.