“I think Geraldus has been hiding from us lately. We should go find him before he leaves again and make him teach us one of his new songs. He’s been wanting you to translate some more of those riddles your people sing. He says that he’ll make new melodies for them and no one will suspect they were Saxon first. It’s just the thing for winter entertainment. Even those who can’t sing can guess. I think they are very interesting but I don’t understand them all. What was so funny about the one he told last night?”
“Which one, the bellows?”
“Was that what it was? I’m not good at guessing, but now that you tell me, it makes sense. But why were they all laughing?”
“Well, some people thought it might be something else and I suppose that it amused them to be wrong.”
Guinevere gave her a penetrating stare. Alswytha blushed. Guinevere sighed and nodded her head.
“One of those. I thought so. People never want to tell me what they mean. I really think I’m old enough now to have some things explained.”
Alswytha laughed at her annoyance. “I think you are, too. But I can’t imagine who will have the courage to explain them.”
Guinevere laughed with her, if a bit ruefully, and they went happily to look for Geraldus, who was not hiding but was being kept very busy informing Sidra of what was going on everywhere on the island. She was not a person who wanted a quick summary, and every day she had called him to sit with her or follow her around for hours explaining, in detail, every event, major or minor, that had happened in the last six months. He was glad when the girls pulled him away.
“Thank you,” he gasped in gratitude when they were out of Sidra’s hearing. “That woman would know when every tree blossoms and every horse foals from Land’s End to Hadrian’s Wall. And the most amazing thing is that she remembers everything I tell her!”
They walked up to one of the watchtowers and stood looking out to sea. It was a gray world, starting with the rocks, almost black, to the silver and polished waves of the sea and up into the rising fog and clouds. Guinevere thought it was rather boring, but Alswytha loved it. She never tired of watching the subtle shifts in light and shadow. Perhaps, in another time, she would have been an artist, too. Perhaps it was only that the dull colors soothed her by not conflicting with her moods.
While Alswytha watched, Guinevere teased Geraldus.
“I see you didn’t bring the whole troupe this time. Have they grown tired of your shouting and criticisms?”
“I only wish they had. No, they don’t care for the sea air. It gives them chills or something. You should hear them when we get into the mountains and, of course, they are always in full force when I visit your parents. They are very fond of hot baths.”
The dark-haired woman appeared beside him and began aimlessly twisting his long curls about her finger. He brushed his hand across them to stop her, but not as fiercely as he used to, more with a casual tenderness. Guinevere noticed it.
“You have changed in the last few years, Geraldus. You seem happier now, somehow.
Automatically, he glanced over his shoulder although he knew he would see nothing. Then, he smiled. “Yes, I am very content with my life. I know now what lies before me.”
The woman nuzzled against him and rested her head on his shoulder. He put his arm around her.
“I’m going to live with them someday. Not soon, I don’t think. I have too much to do here. But I can wait. I have made my choice and I am at peace.”
He seemed so different in his certainty that Guinevere felt wistfully that he was slipping away from her. He didn’t need her friendship in the way that he had before. It made her very lonely until she remembered her unicorn. After all, she needed no one else as long as she had him.
• • •
Spring was slow in coming that year, but gradually the days lengthened. Gawain began to move around more actively instead of wandering about half asleep all the time. He and Geraldus could often be heard out in the courtyard, Geraldus harping and Gawain exercising, and both of them singing ribald drinking songs at the top of their lungs.
With Gawain out more and not in his bed next to Ecgfrith, the Saxon had more opportunity to get out unnoticed. Alswytha had shown him the path to the beach that Guinevere took but refused to do anything more. Ecgfrith followed it and found the tiny beach, large enough for his needs. Now he only awaited a clear night with little wind. Ecgfrith drew even further into his corner, looking like a pale shadow against the dark wall. While everyone thought he was sleeping he lay constantly tensing and releasing his muscles, determined to remain strong enough for the swim, and even more, to return to defeat these arrogant idiots.
Risa spoke no more to Guinevere about Gawain, but one evening Guinevere noticed him smiling sleepily at the maid as he finished a cup of wine before bed and the next day she saw them strolling across the courtyard hand in hand.
Finally the sun broke through and everyone really began to believe that spring was near. In a few sheltered areas where the ground was not covered by rock, small flowers were sprouting.
On a particularly fine day Guinevere and Alswytha went to the hall for the noon meal. The company was lively and cheerful, for many of the men would soon be leaving to join their units or at last to apply for admission to one. After a winter of inactivity, they were eager to be off. There was a lot of mock skirmishing that got slightly out of hand as the thick round loaf of bread was tossed from knife point to knife point about the table. The man beside Guinevere, Belinus, grew overexcited and reached out for an impossible catch, just as Guinevere put out her hand for a piece of meat. The knife flashed across the table, ripping her sleeve and grazing her hand. She cried out, more in surprise than pain. Belinus dropped the knife and went white.
“Oh my lady. Forgive me! Please, I didn’t see you! What can I do? I am so sorry! Here, let me help you. Oh, forgive me!” he babbled almost hysterically.
Guinevere looked around the table and saw horror on everyone’s face. She checked her arm. The fabric was torn and the sleeve dangled so that it would fall in her dish and be in the way, but the scratch on her arm was nothing. It had already stopped bleeding. What were they all so upset about? She smiled reassurance to Belinus.
“No, no, don’t worry. It was an accident. I’m not hurt at all. The cloth can be mended. There’s nothing to forgive. I simply got in the way of the game. Finish your meal. If our hostess will excuse me, I will change into another gown and return.” She gestured to a startled Alswytha. “Don’t get up, I can manage.”
She nodded to Sidra, who had not intervened in the matter and nodded back at her with amused approval. Sidra spoke.
“Perhaps, Belinus, you could pass me the bread on the platter?” Sidra suggested in an ironic tone that made Belinus wish he were surrounded by bloodthirsty Piets instead of the group staring at him now.
Guinevere hurried up the stairs, her slippered feet making no noise on the stone. She lifted the curtain to enter her room and then dropped it with a startled gasp. She retreated a few steps and then sat, unable to go further. She felt weak and her hands were trembling. Had they seen her? She thought not. Gawain’s face had been turned away and Risa—her eyes had been open but Guinevere didn’t think she was seeing the room around her.
She tried to control herself, to reason out her feelings. If only they had covered themselves with something! But after all, she had encouraged them. It was what Risa and Gawain had both wanted. Gawain certainly couldn’t keep a midnight rendezvous. Then why did she feel so sick? Her mind kept going back to the glistening of their skin, the undulation. She shut her eyes, trying to force it out. It’s just, she thought, that it’s so intimate, so complete. She couldn’t find the words for her feelings. They frightened her. Deep within her mind she was afraid that the repulsion she felt might also be attraction or even envy. The thought of sharing herself that much with another, vague, unknown human being was terrifying, and yet, she couldn’t forget the rapture on Risa’s face.
> There was someone at the top of the stairs moving around now. She could hear voices, low and caressing. In a panic, lest they catch her, she raced down the steps and right into Geraldus. She looked so upset that he was startled.
“What is it, Guinevere? What’s wrong?”
“Let me go, Geraldus. Hurry! Gawain . . .” She peered back up the dark stairs.
“Gawain? What did he do to you? Are you hurt?” Geraldus was more puzzled than anything else. He knew Gawain well enough to know that he wouldn’t make advances to Guinevere.
“No, of course not,” Guinevere made an effort to calm down. “I went up to fix my sleeve,” she held up her arm, “but Risa and Gawain were there. I don’t want him to see me.”
Geraldus nodded. That would be a simple statement from anyone else, but he could tell she was still shaking. He heard Gawain whistling as he descended. She must have had quite a sight, from the exultant tones.
“Come with me, dear. Have a cup of wine here in the corner and then go change your robe. You needn’t be embarrassed. I don’t believe they saw you.”
That wasn’t the real problem, he knew, but it was beyond him to give advice on such matters. Better leave it to Sidra or Guenlian. That was their job.
He calmed her down and, when she was sure Gawain was well away, she went back up. Risa was still there, belting her robe. Her hair needed combing. She was humming. When she saw Guinevere, she gave her a radiant, secret, smile.
“You were right! I can’t believe it! I never met a man before who lived up to his own boasting. If only—” she stopped, noticing the look of distaste Guinevere had given her.
“I know it’s not what you would do,” she defended herself. “You can’t. Someday your family will expect you to marry someone important; to make an alliance. You can’t just have a man any time you want him. But it’s different with me. My father is just a small farmer, hardly more than a boundman. If I brought home a lord’s child he wouldn’t care. Another mouth to feed means another person to help with the work. He might even think it an honor. I have no great connections that would make me appealing as a bride, and I certainly have no interest in those rough-fingered workmen more suited to my station. I’m happy. Gawain is happy. Don’t scold me with your eyes. I can’t stand it!”
Guinevere closed her offending eyes and sat down on the bed. “I didn’t mean to. I don’t blame you at all. It just makes me uncomfortable. I wish you wouldn’t speak of it.”
Risa shrugged. “If you wish,” but her tone was more of pity than of shame.
This event, more than any other, typified the reason Guinevere was often discomfited at Cador. It wasn’t just the shock of watching others engaging in what should be private activities, but the constant necessity of being around other people and having to deal with their emotions and desires, however she might try to avoid them. Strong feelings frightened her. At the villa there had always been a way to shield herself from the others; a room to go to, a clearing in the forest. She could lie in the baths for hours and hear nothing but the rustle of the water. Loud voices, rude noises were not allowed in a cultured household. In Cador’s castle they echoed off the bare stone walls and rang through the corridors. Even in the middle of the night there was always the sound of the watchmen calling to each other, dogs howling, clanks and grindings that seemed to come from the earth and rocks themselves. They battered at her constantly until she felt her very soul was bruised.
• • •
Early the next day, before the dawn had dispelled the gray crust of fog, Guinevere gratefully buried her face in the cool silver of the unicorn’s mane.
“We must go home,” she whimpered. “I am so lonely for you here. Would you not like to live in the forest again?”
She felt a soft rumble of disquiet in his mind. He pawed the sand with a cloven hoof.
“I do not see myself returning there,” he sighed at last. “I believe I would be happy to lie in the grass and flowers again, but I do not think it will be.”
Guinevere did not wish to question him about this. It was too ominous a warning; if she didn’t hear it, it might not happen. She gently stroked his back.
“You have not found the others yet?”
“No, but I have found my answer. There are no others. I do not know what voices called to me, but they were not what they claimed. I am the unicorn. Whatever that should be, I must somehow discover for myself. I begin to believe that the answer does not lie in this life.”
Guinevere clutched his neck and forced his eyes to hers. “We have spoken of this before. You mustn’t leave me!”
His tears spilled over her hands, so hot that they left red streaks as they fell. But she would not release him.
“You are all that keeps me from despair in this miserable place, all I have ever wanted in my life. If you die, I promise to accompany you.”
“No, you are not allowed to do that,” he paused, confused. “I do not understand why. Humans are still the most mysterious of creatures to me. But that is not the way you are allowed to follow. If I do not die, there will never be another unicorn. I will be eternal, but eternally alone. Perhaps in this place we call Death I will find what I seek. But it is different for you. I sense somehow that by my presence I am keeping you from being truly human. Do not cry, my other self. I will not leave yet and you will know when and why I do. Perhaps it will not be what either of us imagines.”
That had to be Guinevere’s comfort.
A few days later she asked Sidra if she could go home for a few weeks.
“At this time of year? It’s hardly safe. The seas are clear now and if the Saxons bring new armies now is when they will come. The road between here and your home is right in the path from the sea to the Saxon-held lands.”
“Please, Sidra. I am so homesick. I cannot bear it any longer. There are over a dozen men here who are going that way soon, to join Lord Cador and Arthur. Couldn’t I travel with them? That would be safe, like having my own army. I’m sure they would be willing to take a short detour and stay a night with my parents before they face the wars. Sidra, I must go home for a while!”
Sidra gave in. “I see that,” she said. “I do not approve for many reasons, but it is clear to me that you need to be away from us for a time. You lasted almost a year this visit. Perhaps someday you will not need to go home but only wish to. I will make the arrangements. The men were planning to set out sometime next week. I assume you can be ready by then?”
“Of course I can. Thank you, Sidra.” Guinevere hugged her joyfully, ignoring the disapproval of the older woman. “I will come back again very soon. I promise. Just a few weeks with my parents, time to play with my niece. That’s all I need. Truly!”
She was not so blind to the terrified expression Alswytha gave her when she explained where she was going and how long she would be gone. But all the Saxon girl said was, “Let me help you decide what things you will take. I hope you have good weather for your visit.”
“Alswytha, I’m not leaving forever, just for a little while. Risa will stay with you and Geraldus has promised to remain here until I return. They won’t let anyone hurt you and Sidra will . . . Alswytha, I can’t stand it here any longer.”
Something that was almost anger crossed Alswytha’s face.
“You can’t stand it? Then of course you must go!”
She turned away quickly and began folding robes and sorting perfumes. But even the set of her spine told Guinevere what she was thinking. How could anyone be so spoiled, so self-centered?
Guinevere stood uncertainly, not knowing what to do. She stretched her hand out, and spoke softly, begging forgiveness. “I will be back, very soon. Only give me a little time.”
Alswytha’s shoulders dropped. She took the offered hand and clasped it tightly. She spun around and hugged her, holding her wet cheek against Guinevere’s.
“It’s not your fault,” she wept. “Of course you must go.”
That night she told Ecgfrith all about how Guineve
re was leaving and how lonely she would be. She was so miserable that she didn’t notice the gleam of triumph in his eyes.
The next morning his bed was empty.
Even the resulting uproar didn’t convince Guinevere to stay. The general opinion was that he had tried to escape but had been crushed on the rocks or drowned and washed out to sea. So few of the Britons could swim that it never occurred to them that anyone was strong enough to enter the sea and survive. If Alswytha was afraid that they would treat her more harshly because of Ecgfrith’s escape, she soon realized that she was wrong. If anything, it improved her position. People felt sorry for her. She was not so threatening now that her brother was not there, glaring sullenly from his corner of the wall.
The air was clear and the wind smelled of damp earth the day they left. Guinevere hated riding pillion behind someone but she had conceded this point and held tightly to Belinus. She had chosen him to show that she held no ill feeling against him in the matter of the bread game. As she had suspected, no one objected to being her guard of honor to the villa.
She kissed everyone good-bye indiscriminately, she was so happy. And she resolutely failed to notice the look in Alswytha’s eyes. As she left, she twisted back to wave. Her last sight was of Geraldus standing behind Alswytha who was, oddly enough, leaning on the shoulder of the raven-haired alto.
Chapter Thirteen
Guenlian knelt in her garden plucking miniscule weeds from among the herbs. The earth was cool and moist under her hands and the sun warm across her back. Laughter dappled the air as Rhianna chased her daughter, Letitia, around the courtyard. Guenlian raised her face and absorbed the peace of the day, the infant plants in the fields and the deep green of the forest blending, far off, into the mountains. It was a morning culled from Eden. The impermanence of it cut into her heart.
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