Chapter 8
My intention had been to flee—run and hide—but my reality remained: there was no place for me to go. No sanctuary. No safety. No options. Instead, I headed to the bathhouse to settle my head, and clean the tear stains from my face.
When the Romans occupied our lands, they had built fortresses with modern conveniences such as running water and sewage systems. Camelaird, before the Romans, had been a circular hill fort, but when the Romans came they built their stone fortress and tiled bathhouse over the top of the ancient grounds. When the Romans retreated back to their own lands, my mother's ancestors reclaimed Camelaird, building a third rendition of the city over the top of the Roman remains.
Even though the bathhouse fell into a state of deterioration without the proper maintenance the Romans once provided, it soothed me like no other place within the walls of Camelaird. The trickling water fed by a natural spring provided a panacea—even though I was locked inside this massive fortress, nature still found its way to me.
Only the frigidarium room's pool remained filled out of the three the Romans had built—the heating system for the warm and hot water pools of the tepidarium and caldarium rooms long since defunct. I crossed the floor with an echo as my feet hit the cracked tiles, and I settled down beside the pool. One torch burned in the far corner, giving off a diminutive glow across the water. After splashing my face with the cool water, I stared without thought. My mind numbed at the confusion of the day's events. Thoughts mingled until I could no longer make sense of any of them, so they turned into an amebic jumble, blocking any clarity I might find.
Movement caught my attention. My eyes flicked to the opposite end of the pool; a whirl of gold blurred beneath the waters. I strained for a better view as the flurry neared me, stopping directly in front of where I sat. Three goldfish swam in a stationary circle. I frowned. How could goldfish have entered the pool? Through the spring, perhaps, but unlikely.
I squeezed my eyes shut, then reopened them. In the place where I thought I had seen the fish, a gold trinket lay at the bottom of the pool. Had I imagined the fish? Confused, I hiked up my sleeve and reached down. Since this side of the pool contained steps for entering the water, I only had to reach to my elbow in order to retrieve the gold piece.
As my fingers touched the metal, a flashback bloomed in my mind.
"The triquetra," my mother said, holding an identical trinket out for me to see. The gold piece depicted three intertwining shapes all connected with a circle. "Love, honor and protection." She moved her fingers over each point of the object. "It represents the three realms of this world: the land, the sea, and the sky. The three cannot be broken. They are forever entwined—a connection that can never be severed."
The memory of her presence dazzled me as her form took shape in my head. Her skin glowed white while her oak-brown hair fanned around her face. She wore an indigo robe mostly hidden by a generous fall of hair. Her sleeves, waist and hems bore swirling embroidery.
I smiled at the recollection, realizing though I did not resemble my father in the least, I bore every mark of my mother, from her pale skin, her brown hair, her blue-gray eyes, her lithe form to the soft melody of her voice. Before, when I had thought of my mother, I only hit blackness, but now a full blown image held me spellbound.
"Do you know who you are, Guinevere?" she had asked.
I must have been about five or six in the memory, and my young mind could not comprehend her question. A patient smile spread across her face in response—like my own, bow shaped lips stretched over a small row of teeth.
"Queenship is a sacred duty. The queen is the land, the sea, and the sky. It is through her that the world flourishes. But in order to access the ancient knowledge, you must first know yourself."
I remembered nodding, but not understanding. The gentleness of her smile sent warmth into the cool blue-gray of her eyes as she resumed her instruction.
"There is that which you see with your eyes and that which you see with your heart. The druid path is to learn to see past what we think is real and open the eyes of your heart."
"But father says the magic is wicked," I had replied.
Her smile spread without a trace of anger at my rebuttal, but with a sweetness that melted her features.
"That is because your father never learned to see with his heart."
"I knew I would find you here!" Elibel's voice sounded from the entryway, and I jumped at her intrusion and turned toward her.
"Uncle asked that I check on you. He grows impatient."
I spun back around to the pool, but the memory of my mother had vanished. With my back to my cousin, I affixed the triquetra to the chain around my neck that held my father's Christian cross and tucked the bulk of both down the front of my dress, annoyed that Elibel had interrupted the first and only recollection of my mother.
The soft patter of Elibel's footsteps approached until she stood over me.
"I'm sorry I told Arthur about your plan to meet with Melwas, Guin. I was just so afraid…"
I shrugged, unwilling to release the thoughts of my mother's memory from my head.
"Forgive me?" Her voice sounded small.
I caressed the front of my dress, feeling the triquetra beneath, tracing my fingers along the lines of swirls that formed the circles through the fabric of my gown. What had my mother said? Love, honor and protection? Yet father had said love and honor do not always go hand in hand. My brow furrowed at the conflicting philosophies.
"Guinevere," Elibel pleaded, "please talk to me."
She sunk down next to me.
When I didn't respond, she added, "I can sit here all night."
My anger for Elibel's admission to Arthur returned as I stuffed away my mother's memory. I did not want to share the vision with Elibel, so I said, "Men died because of me today, Elibel."
"They died out of greed and duty and a host of other male-driven wants, Guin, not because of you."
"I could have stopped it."
"A tide of warriors?" She shook her head. "You're a woman, Guinevere. You do not possess such power."
"Women had power, once." I thought of how my mother had held both the crown of Camelaird and the key to an ancient knowledge.
A heavy sigh escaped my cousin. "Those days are gone, Guin."
We sat, silent for long moments, as the torchlight flickered.
"What did you and the knight speak of?" I asked.
Elibel turned her colossal eyes on me, searching my face. "It's dangerous to love him, Guin."
"What do you mean?"
"Sir Lancelot. You cannot allow yourself to love him."
I shook my head at the implication. "Love? I don't—"
"You do."
I turned and stared back at her. Could love be the inexplicable feeling I had for him? Lust perhaps, but love? Nay, not possible. "How can you tell?"
"The looks you pass between one another. The emotion is palpable."
I considered her statement. "Do you think he feels—"
"Hush, Guin. Let it go. It will only do you ill to think of him in such a way. You are betrothed to Arthur."
An unappealing snort escaped me at the thought. Arthur.
"Arthur is not so terrible, Guin. He's handsome—blindingly so. He's intelligent, powerful, witty and courageous." She sighed. "Marriage to such a man would be like living in the Land of the Blessed, cousin."
Her statement clicked into realization. All of the times we spoke of marriage, and I had not noticed how smitten she was with the idea.
"Elibel, do you wish to marry?"
My cousin remained silent, but the downward cast of her eyes told of her truth.
"I'm sorry, cousin. I didn't know. Why haven't you ever spoken of your desire?"
"I am your lady. My loyalty goes to you. When your father appointed me, I was honored at the position. I still am." Though her speech rose in passion, she still avoided my gaze.
"I can release you from my service and you will be free to seek love."
"You could no more release me from my station than I could release you from yours."
"But as queen, I could ask for the favor."
Elibel turned her eyes upon me. They shone as if wetness slicked the surface. "If you were Arthur's queen, it would not matter."
Her emphasis on Arthur's name set off another light in my brain. Why hadn't I seen it before?
"You wish to marry Arthur?"
A tear escaped from Elibel's huge eye, flowing down over her cheek. She pressed her delicate fingers over her lips to suppress another eruption.
"Oh, Elibel—"
"Oh, Guin." Her eyes rounded on me. Pools welled in the corners. "I've heard of Arthur's valor for years, and all that time, I fantasized about what such a man would be like. It seemed an innocent preoccupation until he arrived and exceeded every expectation I had and more." Her shoulders quaked as she continued, "Then when your father announced…"
Elibel took in a breath unable to continue. A whimper escaped with another inhale and she started again, "When I saw the look between you and Sir Lancelot, I knew my duty was to remove him before anyone else noticed your attraction, but the truth was that I had to leave the chamber as I could not bear to stay, knowing you and Arthur were betrothed. I needed time before I could face you. I shouldn't have even told you, but—"
"You removed Lancelot because of me?"
"Of course. What did you think?"
"That you—" I couldn't continue out of shame for my narrow thoughts towards my cousin's intentions.
"You thought I sought his attention?" Her sniff contained a skeptical laugh.
I nodded and cast my head downward.
"Oh, Guin. I would never betray you. I love you too much."
I reached over and snuggled my arms around my cousin. She stiffened at first, then gave way to my embrace and wept in the crook of my neck as I smoothed my hand down the length of her hair.
"Our unfortunate lots have been cast, Guin," she said between sobs. "It seems our stations provide a prison for us both."
"My Lady."
The deep voice startled us both. We separated and turned in unison.
Sir Lancelot stood silhouetted by the entryway to the frigidarium room where we conversed. How long had he watched us? What had he heard?
My heartbeat quickened at the memory of our conversation. I fought the urge to squeeze my eyes shut from embarrassment when Elibel cut in.
"What do you require, sir?" Her tone leveled, nullifying any of her previous emotion with an expertise only Elibel could accomplish.
Though the knight's face remained in shadow, his stance seemed tense—urgent even. He shifted his weight, and bent a measure at his knees as if ready to unsheathe his sword and strike an unknown foe at any moment.
"A pressing matter requires your attendance. I beseech you My Lady, you must hasten along with me without pause."
Betrothal (Queen’s Honor, Tales of Lady Guinevere: #1), a Medieval Fantasy Romance NOVELLA Page 9