by Nancy M Bell
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The next fortnight was a blur of sleeplessness to Gawain. Lancelot’s wound festered, and his delirium raged from the high fever gripping him, eating the flesh from his large frame. In his fever ravaged brain, Lancelot mistook the Lady Nuina for Queen Gwenhwyfar, constantly wringing her hand in his large ones and professing his love. Begging her to run away with him and leave Cadbury and King Arthur forever. They could go to wild Ireland and remain hidden there for the rest of their lives. Lancelot alternated between commanding her to come with him and crying and begging her when the fever was at its height.
The Lady Nuina and Gawain took turns bathing Lancelot in cold water and forcing broth and water down his throat. Alain kept watch over the two of them and made sure there was a steady supply of clean bandages for Lancelot and wine and food for the Lady Nuina and Gawain. In the quiet reaches of the night and early morning hours, the Lady Nuina and Gawain along with Alain promised each other no word of Lancelot’s ravings about Queen Gwenhwyfar would leave the small chamber.
“The queen will be well cared for at the cloisters, and after her adventures, she may well be glad to be done with court life,” Gawain remarked in the wee hours one morning.
“She will be a prisoner, no more no less than one entombed in the dungeons. Her cage is just prettier than most,” the Lady Nuina replied wearily, too tired even to put much energy into her voice. “She has embarrassed the king, and so she must be punished lest the blame should be somehow construed to fall on Arthur.”
“I have never thought about such things from the lady’s point of view.” Gawain cleared his throat and handed the Lady Nuina a cup of wine. “It just seems like such a neat answer to the knotty problem of what to do with a dispossessed queen.”
“Tidy for the man in question.” The Lady Nuina snorted softly and eyed Gawain over the rim of her cup as she sipped the wine.
“I begin to see your point, My Lady.” Gawain bowed his head slightly to Nuina.
He rose from his seat on the chest and crossed the distance that separated them in long strides. Gawain took the wet cloth from her fingers, grasped both her hands, and drew her to her feet. He promptly forgot to breathe when the Lady Nuina tipped her head back so she could look him directly in his eyes. His fingers tightened on her hands, and she took an involuntary step closer to him. Her hair had come free of the confines of its pins, and long curls fell about her shoulders, glimmering in the flickering light from the torches on the walls.
Gawain tried to quell the heat building in his belly and quickly threatening to set him on fire. An amused and tolerant smile played on the Lady Nuina’s lips as Gawain’s passion made itself evident to her, standing as close to him as she was. Gawain tried unsuccessfully to quash the heat rising up his neck into his face and attempted to turn away from her bewitching face.
“Think you that I know not what it is you desire,” the Lady Nuina said quietly, her skin soft on his.
“I…you…we…we have not had time or opportunity to speak of things as I have wished.” Gawain’s thoughts went every which way as the feel of the Lady Nuina’s stroking thumbs sent all the blood rushing out of his head.
“I came late to court life, Gawain. I was raised on a farm, and I know very well what is involved in the act of procreation. I did not know only a certain man could make one feel as I do with you.” The Lady Nuina smiled, and a faint blush crept up her throat and over her cheekbones.
Gawain hesitated, at a loss for words, and then being a man of action, reacted in the only way his blood starved brain could manage. He folded the Lady Nuina against his iron-muscled body and sought her mouth with his. A lightening jolt raced through his body as his lips nuzzled hers, inhaling her sharp gasp of breath into his lungs. The Lady Nuina freed her hands and pressed them against Gawain’s broad chest. Encircling her hips with his arms, the brave knight trembled when his tongue softly brushed hers.
He was totally unprepared for the reaction from the very proper and lady-like Nuina. She thrust herself against him and raked her fingers through his sleep dishevelled hair. Her fingers locked behind his neck, and she let her head fall back in abandonment to expose the lovely curve of her throat. Gawain plundered her willing flesh and left a trail of wet kisses along her jaw before seizing her earlobe in his teeth and was rewarded by the tightening of her hold on his neck and the small squeal of pleasure from her swollen lips. Emboldened by her behaviour, Gawain lowered her pliant body onto one of the sleeping pallets and pressed kisses down her throat. The Lady Nuina wriggled her strong capable hands into the front of his tunic and caressed the springy coarse hair she encountered on his battle-hardened chest. The Lady Nuina’s mouth smiled under his at his reaction.
The sudden sound of Lancelot calling out in his delirium brought Gawain back to himself as quickly as if someone threw a bucket of cold water over him. Quickly the knight scrambled to his feet. He avoided looking at the Lady Nuina, who after a quick glance to ensure Lancelot was indeed okay for the moment, was sitting up on the pallet.
“Don’t be ashamed Gawain, I am not.” The Lady Nuina rose gracefully to her feet and crossed the distance between them to place a soft kiss on his lips.
“It has never been like that before for me.” Gawain rested his hands on her shoulders and studied her face. “Never like it were both of us coming together, not just one or the other amusing themselves.”
“Nor I, and if that is what Gwenhwyfar and Lancelot feel, how can we fault them for not denying something so strong.” The Lady Nuina rested her forehead on Gawain’s chest who dropped his head to kiss the dishevelled crown of her hair.
She raised her head, gave him a radiant smile, and then left his side to check on Lancelot’s fever. The Lady Nuina rinsed the cloth and applied more cool water to Lancelot’s face. She pulled back the coverlet to change the bandage covering the wound on his thigh. Gawain watched beside her, ready to restrain Lancelot if needed while the painful process of changing the linens was in progress. The flesh around the wound was far less red and angry than the last time Gawain saw the laceration, and there was much less ugly yellow pus. The Lady Nuina swabbed the injury with steaming water from the bowl on the brazier by the sick bed and grunted in satisfaction when she failed to squeeze much drainage from it. She slathered more of the foul blue grey salve in the wound and on the surrounding flesh. With a considering look, the Lady Nuina propped the leg up on a bolster and left it exposed to the air.
“It looks better to me. Is it?” Gawain asked hopefully.
“Aye, it is. There is a time in the healing when it is beneficial to allow the wound to breathe in the open air so long as there is no chance of a chill.” The Lady Nuina allowed herself a tired smile of satisfaction. “For the first time, I begin to believe Lancelot will survive. Please tell Eldon to stop fretting and to eat. Alain is beside himself with trying to entice that horse with tasty tidbits. Sleep now, Gawain, I will watch him through this critical period and hopefully take some rest when the light comes.” The Lady Nuina pushed Gawain gently toward his pallet.
Gawain allowed himself to be convinced to lie down. So tired it was easier just to do as he was told, and anyway, there was no energy for arguing. His brain barely registered the relief of lying flat on the soft pallet before falling into a deep dreamless sleep.
“There will be time enough to talk later.” The Lady Nuina smiled down on Gawain’s peaceful face. “If not in this life, then surely in the next.”
Chapter Thirteen
Lancelot continued to improve at an astounding rate, and soon the Lady Nuina had Gawain assisting her in forcing Lancelot’s stiff leg to move in the ways it used to. The sessions involved many curses and much anguish for both Lancelot and Gawain. Both warrior knights were wrung out and sweat soaked by the end of the exercises.
The Lady Nuina was merciless in her regime and privately confided in Gawain she was more worried than ever Lancelot might never sit a horse again. For a knight and a horseman of Lancelot’s calibre, t
he thought was unbearable. Gawain gritted his teeth and pulled on his inner fortitude during the sessions. It felt most cruel to force the tortured limb into positions which caused sweat to pop out in huge drops on Lancelot’s face and more than once caused the strong knight to become senseless with the pain.
But the day came when the Lady Nuina allowed Lancelot to stand and attempt to walk the length of the small chamber on his own. Lancelot stumped unevenly toward the door, lurching badly as his last step brought him close enough to slump against the rough wood and draw gasping breaths into his lungs. Gawain put his arm around the weakened man and bore much of his weight on the journey back to the sick bed. Lancelot collapsed on the bed with a weak smile of thanks to Gawain and managed to squeeze Gawain’s forearm with some strength.
A week later, Ailim relayed the news of the happenings at the court of King Arthur. Gawain was in the practice yard sparring with one of the castle men at arms when Ailim called him. Gawain realized whatever Ailim knew Eldon would know as well, and therefore, so would Lancelot. Taking the stairs two at time he entered the chamber to see Lancelot struggling to dress himself and the Lady Nuina standing, glaring at him with her arms crossed over her ample bosom. The sight of her breasts pushed upward by her crossed arms caused Gawain to lose focus for a second and pulled his mind back to the problem at hand with some difficulty.
“Lancelot, hold. We can never reach Cadbury in time before Arthur officially puts Gwenhwyfar from him and has the marriage dissolved.” Gawain crossed the room quickly to support Lancelot as the big knight lost his balance while battling with his night shirt.
“He cannot do that,” Lancelot snarled. “It was not her fault. March had someone bewitch Gwenhwyfar, so she thought it was me. When she looked at March, she saw my face and my body, heard my voice, not his.”
“Listen to what you have just said, Lance,” Gawain implored him. “Think you Arthur wishes to hear instead of playing him false with an enemy, she intended to do that very thing with his most trusted friend and knight.”
“Right now, I don’t much care what Arthur does or does not want to hear.” Lancelot swayed alarmingly as pulled his tunic over his head.
Gawain caught the Lady Nuina’s eye and mouthed the words at her, “Can the damned fool ride?”
She lifted her shoulders in resignation and sighed. “He will have to try at any rate, or we will be chasing him over the countryside after he sneaks off on us.”
Gawain summoned Alain from the stables where the lad spent a good deal of his time fussing over the mares and the two great war horses in his care. Alain had everything in order and ready to depart by noon the following day. Gawain sent word to Arthur of their plans via Ailim’s link with Caliburn, and Arthur expressed his pleasure Lancelot was well enough to travel. Gaheris was dispatched to ride forthwith back to Castle Arbray of Lyonnesse to take up stewardship of the keep until after the more pressing problem of the queen was settled, and Arthur could appoint a permanent steward for the castle.
The morning of their departure was bright and clear, and by the time the sun was high in the sky, the day was quite warm with no sign of rain clouds on the horizon. Eldon lowered himself unto his knees so Lancelot could place his foot in the stirrup without raising it more than an inch above the cobbles of the courtyard. The war stallion waited until Lancelot swung his other leg over the saddle and was secure as possible given the circumstances. The war horse raised himself carefully to his full height and stood stock still while Lancelot mastered the pain gripping him.
Gawain swung up on Ailim, after he handed the Lady Nuina up onto Rose. The folk of the castle gathered to watch them go and waved with real affection for the knights who had made life much better for the inhabitants of the Castle Arbray than they had been under the rule of King March.
Gawain’s heart lifted as they clattered out of the castle gate and turned their horses’ noses toward the northwest and home. They made poor time as they rode mostly at a walk, and the Lady Nuina made them stop often so she could dose Lancelot with wine and willow bark.
Gawain experienced a couple of disconcerting moments when his dizziness returned suddenly, and the two worlds seemed to swim in front of his eyes. He refused to worry the Lady Nuina with his problem and held tight to his pommel until the dizziness and flashing lights passed.
More than once during the long afternoon ride, Gawain felt somehow separate from his body, watching things from a great distance. Dismissing it as something to be blamed on the weeks of idleness spent waiting for Lancelot to heal and the number of sleepless nights in the last two months, the stubborn man resolutely ignored the discomfort.
Alain cantered on ahead to set up their camp in the place they had agreed upon when they planned their journey north. Gawain sighed in relief when Ailim halted in the shade of the small grove of trees. Eldon stopped beside him, and Gawain took one look at Lancelot’s white face and slid down from Ailim’s back in time to catch Lance as the large knight slid from his saddle onto legs which refused to hold him up.
Alain had prepared Lancelot’s sleeping place and helped Gawain point Lancelot in the right direction and lower him to the ground. Lancelot stretched out with an audible groan and turned his face into his arm. The Lady Nuina raised his shoulders and gave him strong mead laced with willow bark. After a few minutes, Lancelot fell into an uneasy slumber born of exhaustion and pain.
Gawain settled himself on a rock by the fire Alain had started and let the warmth ease the cramps in his own muscles. The Lady Nuina sank down on the ground in front of him and leaned her shoulders back against his knees. Gawain allowed his hands to stroke her silken hair and play with the long strands that had once again escaped her pins and her attempt to tame them with a snood. The Lady Nuina leaned her head back into the soothing feel of his hands in her hair and sighed in contentment.
“What of when we return to Cadbury, My Lady?” Gawain broached the subject that had troubled him over the past few weeks.
“What of it?” the Lady Nuina twisted her head, so she could see Gawain’s face.
“How do we go forward?” Gawain said uncomfortably. “Do you still desire to keep company with me once we are back at court, or would it please you that others know nothing of what transpired at Castle Arbray?”
“What do you wish, Sir Gawain?” The Lady Nuina frowned slightly as she spoke.
“I think you know what I wish,” Gawain said fiercely unable to stop the fire that leaped into his eyes.
“That is what I wish also, you ninny.” The Lady Nuina pulled her knees under her and turned so she was held in the circle of Gawain’s strong thighs and his arms. She reached up and claimed a kiss from his lips.
“Do you wish to make it formal with a marriage ceremony at court?” Gawain tightened his arms around her.
“That would be fine, but it needn’t be at court if you wish it elsewhere.” The Lady Nuina laid her head against Gawain’s chest, where his heart thundered in her ear with excitement.
“Anywhere is fine with me, My Lady, so long as you are with me,” Gawain spoke softly into her hair.
“Dinner is burning.” Alain cleared his throat and grinned at them from across the fire.
“Let it burn,” Gawain growled softly into the Lady Nuina’s ear.
She returned his grin and pushed herself to her feet with her hands on Gawain’s strong shoulders. She took his hand in hers and drew him to his feet. Gawain rose easily and then clutched at the Lady Nuina for support as the world turned crazily around him.
The Lady Nuina’s face was again superimposed over the other girl who was Nuina and yet wasn’t her at all. The Lady Nuina tried to support his weight and with Alain’s help lowered Gawain back unto his rock. The weirdness only lasted a few minutes, and Gawain shook his head in relief when the world settled back into place around him. “Curse the knave that brained me. I hope the churl burns in the deepest pits of the nine hells,” Gawain swore taking the wine skin from Alain’s outstretched hand.
“Come and eat, perhaps it was only faintness from riding so long.” The Lady Nuina led Gawain over to the camp fire and filled a wooden bowl with stew.
“Mayhap that is all it was,” Gawain agreed, ignoring the knowledge that there was something seriously amiss. Time enough to deal with that once we have Lance safely back in Cadbury.
The sun sank behind the green hills, and the light of the campfire became proportionately brighter. Lancelot roused once, and the Lady Nuina managed to get some watered wine and broth from the stew into him. She checked his wound while Gawain held a torch for her in the fading light. Satisfied the wound was still healing she re-bandaged his thigh and smiled her thanks at Gawain.
Alain offered to take first watch of the night, and Gawain was only too glad to oblige him. His head was aching fiercely as if it might explode at any minute. Rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, the knight dug in his pouch for a good handful of willow bark. He rolled himself in his cloak and turned his back on the light of the fire, searching for a position that would ease the pain in his head.
The Lady Nuina dosed Lancelot with some honeyed mead and willow bark and then curled into Gawain’s arms. The large man gently drew her into the warmth of his body and nestled his face into her soft hair. The Lady Nuina covered his hand with hers and intertwined her fingers with his. Gawain could tell by her breathing she fell asleep almost before the flap of his cloak was tucked firmly around her. The pounding in his head lessened as the bitter willow bark did its job. Gawain listened carefully to the night sounds around him for anything out of place and finding nothing amiss allowed himself to follow the Lady Nuina into slumber.