Queen of Camelot Page 13

  Elaine shrugged gracelessly. Her manners always left her when she was out of temper. She stalked past Cissa, who leaned toward me with a sly wink and whispered, “The queen’s orders, my lady, to stay with the prince awhile. No need to wake up Leonora.” She closed the door firmly behind her.

  I studied the floor tiles carefully, my heart pounding fearfully as Fion stepped close to me. He placed his hand on my waist and drew me closer. “Guinevere, look at me.” Obediently I raised my face to him, and he kissed me. Then he sighed most dolefully and backed away.

  “Fion, I cannot marry you—”

  “I know.”

  I was about to finish “because I am not yet a woman” but stopped in midbreath, astonished.

  He smiled a thin, bitter smile. “I would fall to one knee if I were able, Guinevere, and beg your forgiveness for my forwardness. But, you see, I love you. I thought if I did not kiss you, I would perish of the desire.” He motioned me to sit, and I collapsed gratefully into the chair. My knees were jelly. Leonora was still asleep.

  “I am not a fool,” he said after a long silence. “I can see your future plain enough, even if you cannot. Queen Alyse sees it, too, you know. That’s why she throws you to me every day, hoping my hothead heritage will overcome my civilized veneer, and I will take you, willingly or not—”

  “No!” I gasped. “She would not!”

  “And then,” he continued, “you would be forced to come to Ireland. And you are mistaken about the queen. She would. Do you think she would entrust her precious daughter to a chaperone who sleeps? Whenever Elaine is alone with me, there are three of them, at least.”

  I buried my face in my hands. “What are you talking about, Fion? You sound like Merlin, so sure and so garbled. What do you see for me? Why should they fear me so?”

  “Ah. Merlin. It takes no magician’s eyes to see your promise, Guinevere.” He took my hand and raised me, walking me to the door. “You will come to fame and glory, as surely as the stars wheel about the heavens. In two years’ time—well, I only hope I shall see it.” He kissed my hand and pressed it to his cheek. “Come again tomorrow. Can you sing? Let me teach you a song. And now leave me here with Leonora and let me spin her a yarn when she awakes.”

  I left him, but so troubled that I slept not at all that night, and felt ill the next day. And although my illness kept me from him, Elaine did not speak to me for almost a week. Finally I tired of her sulks and faced her. “Elaine, for heaven’s sake, try to remember who you are. This behavior becomes a scullery drudge better than Pellinore’s daughter.”

  “How dare you speak to me so!” she retorted. “You forget yourself! Your father was naught but a petty lord, a black Celt whose forefathers were hill men!”

  “How dare you insult my father! He was wise and brave and kind-hearted, and besides, there’s not a Celt in Wales, including Pellinore, who is not descended from the Ancients, and you are a pin-headed hussy to think otherwise!”

  Elaine screamed in fury and stamped her foot. “Stop this instant! I forbid you to speak to me ever again! I hate you, Gwen! I wish—I wish—Oh! How I wish you were ugly!” She burst into tears and threw herself upon the bed. I stood silent, stunned into speechlessness by her unexpected words.

  “But, Elaine,” I ventured lamely, “this is foolishness. I do not want Fion. And he does not want me. Why do you fear me so?”

  “He does! He does!” She sobbed into her pillows. “It’s plain as day—if you take him from me, I will kill you—I will have you turned out—sent back to your black brothers—I will—” She blubbered on unintelligibly and her distress confused me. Fighting anger, I stood looking down at her shaking body.

  “Do you want him? Truly? To marry? Come, Elaine, control yourself just for the smallest second. Tell me your heart. Is Queen of Ireland your ambition?”

  But she did not answer and shrugged away my hand. She did not want him. All she wanted was his undivided admiration. Her weeping was hideous, and she did not strive to control it. Grannic hurried in, clucking and fussing, with Ailsa behind her.

  “Oh, Lady Guinevere, what have you done to distress her so? Oh, dear, the poor child! Come, Ailsa, help me with her. Oh, dear!”

  “Poor child indeed.” I snorted in contempt. “She loves weeping better than sense, that’s all.”

  “Guinevere!”

  “I will not take insults from her any longer!”

  “The lady Elaine would not insult you,” Grannic protested, stroking Elaine’s hair with tenderness.

  “Of course not,” I said bitterly. “Within the hour she will have you all believing it was I who insulted her. I don’t care. Elaine, you are an ass.”

  “Guinevere!” they shrieked, as Elaine howled in rage, but I had already closed the door behind me.

  Eventually we were made to apologize to one another, and at length we were allowed to return to Fion, but he must have guessed the trouble, for he never spoke personally to me again. When he discovered I could sing, he was delighted and taught me songs and ballads, sang with me, or just sat by the window, looking out at the Irish Sea and listening as I sang to him. And I sang to him often, to spite Elaine, who had not the voice for it.

  So winter passed, and the spring rains came and washed the woods of snow. Messengers arrived from Ireland demanding ransom for the prince, and negotiations took place, week upon week, while the sun warmed the earth into bud and green grass sprang from the mud. Zephyr and I went out daily, but the beach was forbidden us now. Queen Alyse, thinking Fion’s courtship progressed nicely, was graciousness itself toward me. She reminded me of a cat preening. Elaine could be no more than civil, but she was pleased that he no longer singled me out for his admiration.

  Of the High King we heard only that he still grieved for his lost queen and that he still grieved for Merlin. The anguish of his grief had settled into a kind of grim despair, which worried his Companions. But his judgment of men, his justice, and his prowess as a warrior never faltered. The building on Caer Camel was nearly finished, and he planned to take possession of the fortress by midsummer. But the Saxons would not give him rest. Every time a leader fell, a younger, more eager, more bloodthirsty one rose to take his place, and the attacks continued.

  A royal messenger arrived near the end of April. There were Angles and Saxons in the Caledonian Forest. Lot was marching to hem them in from the north; King Arthur was riding north and would pass through Wales in two days. Pellinore was summoned to gather troops and join him.

  Negotiations for the return of Fion were nearly completed. It was time, Alyse said, he made his move.

  We feasted the royal courier that night at the round table, and Elaine and I were allowed to stay and listen as the men talked about the wars. King Pellinore seemed delighted to be escaping the confines of the castle and taking to horse. He spoke eagerly of the upcoming action, and also of the Irish gold he expected to help finance the expedition. This was the first the courier had heard of an Irish prisoner, and he listened attentively as Pellinore told the story of his capture and convalescence. Of course Pellinore left women out of the story and, in so doing, missed most of what had actually happened. Elaine and I kept our faces straight, but her eyes were bright with merriment.

  At the end of the story, the king’s chamberlain approached and announced that the hostage, Prince Fion, begged audience of the king in the presence of the royal messenger. Pellinore was surprised and looked over at Alyse for advice. She nodded complacently, and he shrugged.

  “Very well. Bring him. Let’s see what he wants.”

  Fion entered in his best clothes. There was the fine, white blouse of Irish linen Elaine and I had repaired for him, new leggings of soft leather, and a dark-green mantle of good Welsh wool. He walked without a splint now, and the leg had knit straight, although it pained him to wear a boot on it for long.

  He bowed low before King Pellinore, and then before the ladies, and last before the royal courier.

  “Good King Pellinore, I have
been a prisoner and hostage in your home for three months now, and I have been treated like an honored guest. Such hospitality is amazing to one such as I, bred in a less sophisticated land, especially as I know well I have done nothing to deserve it. I feel I must do something for you, my lord, besides allow my relations to send you gold.” He paused, to judge how it was going. King Pellinore seemed pleased and the courier stunned. Queen Alyse waited expectantly.

  “There is not much that is in my power to do, I admit. But I am young, I am unwed, and promised to no woman. I am my father’s only heir. It would please me, and I hope do you honor, to make one of your household my wife and future Queen of Ireland.”

  King Pellinore’s jaw dropped, and then he grinned broadly. “I call that a handsome offer, lad. Which one of them do you want?”

  Fion bowed low. “Sir, with humble respect, I ask for the hand of your daughter, the beautiful Elaine.”

  Elaine gasped. Alyse looked scandalized. With an effort, I made my face an expressionless mask—it was best; everyone expected me to look hurt, while I could barely contain my laughter. King Pellinore had opened his mouth to accept him when Alyse cut in.

  “Pellinore, this is not a thing to be taken lightly, nor discussed in public. It is up to Elaine to decide, and she should be given time. She is young to leave home. I—I would have thought, sir,” she addressed herself coolly to Fion, “that there are those among the king’s household of a riper age for marriage than my daughter. Honor would still be conferred.”

  “Perhaps so, gracious lady,” Fion replied with a glint in his eye, “but none but Princess Elaine could I ask to be my wife.” He left it at that, and there was nothing Alyse could say. But Pellinore was slower to catch on. He motioned Fion over to him and lowered his voice until he thought I could not hear him.

  “If she’s too young, what about my ward, Guinevere? She’s as pretty as the other, if I do say it myself, and a mite older. Wouldn’t she do as well, my lord?”

  “With all due respect for yourself, sire, and with all respect and admiration for your ward, whose beauty has not passed unnoticed, I assure you, I can only offer for the Lady Elaine. I would be false to my heart to do otherwise.”

  “Well, well,” Pellinore grumbled, pleased as punch at his reply, and tickled pink, I could see, at the thought of Elaine’s being Queen of Ireland, “I’ll not stand in your way. But it’s up to my daughter, you know, and the queen seems not to favor it. Let me speak with them awhile.”

  “Thank you, my lord. There is—one more thing. I wonder if you would present me to King Arthur.”

  “If my daughter accepts you, you may be sure I shall. If not, on what grounds? You are my hostage, not his.”

  “So I am aware, my lord. But as I am to be King of Ireland, it is meet I should know the man with whom I shall have to deal. It matters not to me whether I come to him as hostage or free man, and I can’t see that it would matter to him.”

  “Hmmm. I shall consider it. There is something in the suggestion. I leave day after tomorrow to join him; perhaps I shall discuss it with him then, if the Saxons give us leave.”

  Dinner ended swiftly after Fion left, and Alyse called us both into her chamber for a conference.

  “Did you know about this, Guinevere?” she asked angrily.

  “No, madam, indeed I did not.”

  “Why are you angry with Gwen, Mother? She has done nothing but been publicly spurned,” Elaine protested, slipping an arm around my waist. “How can you blame her? She is to be pitied. Oh, Gwen, I’m so sorry I was jealous. All this time I thought he loved you, not me.”

  I shrugged. “There’s no need for pity.”

  Alyse paced furiously across the chamber.

  “I don’t believe it for a minute,” she snapped. “It’s a clever plot, very clever. I’ve harbored a viper in my nest. The scoundrel! How dare he?”

  Leonora and Cissa backed against the drapes. I kept my eyes on the floor.

  “Mother!” Elaine cried. “Are you insulted at his proposal? You act so, and yet you want it for Gwen. I thought you would be proud.”

  Alyse shook her head. “Oh, Elaine, my dear. You cannot understand. It was an honorable enough proposal. I accuse him of being insincere. He offered for you because he knows you will reject him.” A wave of fear swept her face. “You will reject him, Elaine.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  “Had he offered for Gwen, he might have been accepted.”

  “I would not have accepted,” I said quietly, to the floor.

  “You are my ward. I might have accepted for you,” Alyse replied, stiffening.

  I looked up then. So she would not allow me my choice, after all. I think I had suspected it all along. I met her eyes squarely, and the relationship between us subtly changed and hardened into battle lines. “You could not have accepted for me.”

  Alyse bristled. “I am queen and your guardian. Tell me why I could not have accepted for you. It is the best you could ever do.”

  “Because,” I said, the words dropping into the silence like stones into a still pool, “I am not yet a woman.”

  Alyse stared, then threw up her hands in resignation.

  “Then perhaps it is just as well. You are old enough to be betrothed, and marriage could wait six months or longer. It cannot be that far off, at the rate you are growing. But as it stands, he has not offered, so I cannot accept.”

  “If you had accepted, I would not go.”

  The women gasped and held their breaths as Alyse flushed darkly. “You would go. Else you would be horsewhipped.”

  “I shall not leave Britain.” I spoke with certainty, although it was only a blind faith in Fion’s visions.

  Alyse came up to me. I noticed that I was taller by a handspan and that there were gray hairs among the gold on her head. “Until you come into womanhood, niece, you will do exactly as I tell you. And when that blessed day arrives, I shall marry you off to the very first lord who looks at you twice. See if I don’t. You are dismissed.”

  Back in our chamber, Elaine embraced me. “Gwen, I apologize for my mother. And I apologize for all my rude behavior. I have said things—you know which things—I did not mean. But I thought, all this time, that he loved you.”

  I lowered my eyes. “Thank you, Elaine. But he has not hurt my feelings, as everyone thinks. I knew he would not offer for me. So you see, I have lost nothing by it. And you have gained much. You have turned down the King of Ireland!”

  She brightened and hugged me again. “Let’s make a pact. We will swear by the Virgin never to fall in love with the same man. Is it agreed?”

  The mischievous glint in her eye made me laugh. “Whoever sees him first, you mean? If I am ever to find a husband with you about, Elaine, I see I must practice my sprints!”

  We laughed together, but I knew in my heart what she meant. I must take care from now on to keep well away from anyone Elaine admired. I was never again to be first in anyone’s eyes. She would not forgive me twice.

  Alyse and Pellinore did not sleep at all that night, by the look of them in the morning. And their arguments continued for the next two days. Pellinore was heard to exclaim that he didn’t give a——if Elaine liked the lad or not. Queen of Ireland was good enough for him, and therefore good enough for her. If she persisted in refusing every suitor who came to her door, he would take matters into his own hands and contract her, sight unseen, to a lord of his choosing. Queen Alyse got round him somehow, though, for he was resigned to it by the time he left to meet Arthur.

  Fion was left behind to nurse his disappointment. What he really thought we did not know, for we were forbidden to visit him any longer. But when we rode beneath his window, sometimes we heard him singing.

  9 BETROTHAL

  A week after my fourteenth birthday, Merlin’s prophecy was fulfilled, and I began to bleed. I shared my excitement only with Elaine, and together, with Ailsa’s help, we kept it secret from Alyse. For although her anger had passed, she was not kind to
me any longer, and all of us who had heard her threaten me believed her. King Pellinore, her only master, was still away at war; while he was gone her power was absolute.

  Fion was kept to his room, and I missed his company. Even when I was out with Zephyr, which was where I loved best to be, I thought of him, now a true prisoner, with pity and regret. I even toyed with the idea of telling Alyse I would marry him if he asked me—he was a good companion, I knew he cared for me, and Ireland could not be so bad. Almost anything was better than this tension at home. But I knew, in my heart, he would not take me. By some strange logic he had convinced himself I was meant for something else. It made me want to laugh, had it not been so sad.

  Then in the month of the summer solstice we had a messenger from King Pellinore. The fighting was done, and the Saxons turned back in a great victory. King Lot of Lothian had received his death blow there, and Merlin the Enchanter had been found living in a cave in the Caledonian Forest within a stone’s throw of the battleground. King Pellinore would be home with his troops in a week’s time, and we were to send messages to Ireland to bring gold for Fion’s ransom and take him away.

  The palace was thrown into sudden activity. Everything was made ready at once. The castle was cleaned from top to bottom, a great feast was prepared, hunts were organized for fresh game, wild flowering herbs were gathered and fashioned into wreaths, which we hung in every room to sweeten the air. In all the bustle I managed to visit Fion twice without being noticed. The first time I went to thank him properly for his offer for Elaine. He kissed my cheek and replied it was the least he could do for the princess who saved his life. When I told him the great news, that the High King had been victorious and Merlin had been found alive, he replied that he had never doubted either event. The second time I went to see him was the day before Pellinore’s return and his own departure. He was very solemn then, and excited, also. We said good-bye.