Lancelot dismounted, then came around to help me down. I slid off the mare into his arms, and he recoiled as if he had been burned. We took up our positions, my hand upon his arm, and faced King Melwas. He bowed low, the Lady curtsied, the bishop nodded. They each made a speech, welcoming me to Caer Camel on King Arthur’s behalf. Melwas was brief enough but the Lady went on at length, praising the Good Goddess, describing Arthur’s virility and strength with a light in her eye, blessing me with fertility and talking hungrily about procreation until I began to blush. Melwas, who stood half the time staring at me open-mouthed, and the other half glaring at Lancelot, finally interrupted and brought her back to the subject at hand. I was most grateful for this. Beneath my hand, Lancelot’s arm was trembling.
Then Bishop Landrum stepped forward, lavishly bedecked in gold and crimson robes, with an ornate jeweled cross hung on his breast. He began a long tirade upon the banishment of heathens and the anathema of pagan ways in a civilized land. Clearly he was enraged at the inclusion of the Lady in the welcoming ceremonies and was determined not to be outdone. But the old priestess had been included by Arthur’s order, it was certain. I began to see an even-handedness here that without doubt was not shared by any of the participants.
At length, the bishop finished, and Lancelot and I both knelt to receive his blessing. Then Lancelot led me forward, followed by King Melwas and the Lady, and the bishop and Bedwyr, down the street of workmen’s huts where swordsmiths, blacksmiths, armorers, coopers, carpenters, and tanners all stood outside and bowed as we went by. There was nothing there yet that was not devoted to the arts of war. At last we came to the marble steps that led to the doors of the castle. Kay was there, smiling proudly at me, and I was glad to see him. As Arthur’s seneschal, the castle was his domain. He thanked Lancelot formally for bringing Arthur’s bride safe and virgin from Wales, and Lancelot rather stiffly replied that anything done in the High King’s service was his pleasure to perform. Then Kay took me into the castle and led me to my quarters. The halls were cool and dark after the bright June sunshine, and by the time my eyes adjusted to the dim light, we were at a wide oak door carved with the Dragon of Britain and guarded by two sentries.
Beyond this door were the Queen’s quarters, which had never been occupied. At long last, after many thanks and assurances, Kay left and it was over. Alyse, Elaine, and I stood in the round foyer, with Leonora, Cissa, Grannic, and Ailsa huddled by the door, and we looked about us. The place was a fighting fortress, with smooth stone walls, narrow windows, dirt floors, and stone benches. Some attempt had been made to make it fit for women. Straw was strewn across the dirt, and tapestries, touched by moth around the edges, hung on the walls.
“Well!” Alyse exclaimed. “I am glad we brought so much with us from Wales. I thought before we were burdening ourselves needlessly, but now I wonder if we brought enough.”
But I found the situation amusing and rather touching. “There have been no women here. We are the first.” From this central foyer branched hallways with spacious rooms. My own chambers were somewhat more elaborately furnished. There were three rooms below: two sitting rooms and a maid’s chamber with wide, glazed windows that looked out upon a terrace and a lovely, walled garden. From the maid’s chamber rose a stairway to my sleeping chamber. The sitting rooms were floored with colored tiles in the Roman style, depicting animals and surrounded by flowers. The walls were hung with imported carpets in rich reds and blues. Blue and gold cushions adorned plain wood benches. Someone had gone to great lengths to make these rooms habitable for women, but that someone had most definitely been a man.
Alyse began to give orders to her women as to the hangings and coverings we would need. I turned to face her. “I will give the directions as to the furnishings of my home, Alyse.”
She stopped, shocked. I saw the realization sink into them all, one by one. This was my home now, and not theirs. Within days I would be their sovereign Queen. And one by one they sank into a curtsy, even Elaine, and last Alyse.
I went alone up the stairs into the sleeping chamber. It was a large, octagonal room, opening on a terrace, flagged in stone, that overlooked the garden. The bed was large and made of carved fruitwood, hung with silk hangings of light blue with golden trimmings. It looked old, and the workmanship was very fine. I later learned it was Ygraine’s and had come from Tintagel. It was the bed where Arthur himself was conceived and born, and where Ygraine had died. The floor tiles were blue and gold and white and covered with a soft carpet of blue, gold, and rose, so thick and rich I knew it must be one of those imported from the East. A bowl of roses sat on a slender-legged table by the window, and an old chest, made of pearwood and carved all over with flowers and vines, stood at the foot of the bed. It was a simple room, but the touches were fine; it was beautiful.
There was only one other doorway, and this was covered with a heavy leather flap. I lifted it tentatively and, hearing nothing on the other side, went in. It was another bedchamber, the twin of mine in shape and size, but plain and completely different in style and taste. The floor was polished wood, without coverings. The windows were unglazed. The bed was large, carved of some dark, shining wood I did not know, and covered with a thick blanket of stitched bearskins. There was an oak chest in one corner and a marble-topped writing table beside a triple-flamed lamp. The bed itself stood on a low dais, and on the wall at its head hung an old silk banner, much worn, of the Red Dragon of Britain clawing at a field of gold.
My heart thudded painfully in my chest, and my palms began to sweat. This was the High King’s bedchamber. There could be no doubt of it. Why had I imagined that his rooms would be in another part of the castle? But they were not. This was his room, and it spoke to me about the man himself. It was a soldier’s room, bare of all ornament except the banner. He wrote here, or read. He slept here, dressed here, and that was all. It was clean and quiet and calm. I went to the window. It looked west, as mine did, and in the far distance I fancied I could see the dim shadow of Ynys Witrin. Of course the King would want to be able to see the signal fires, just in case the sentry slept. Aside from the entrance to my own chamber, there was only one other door, and it led to a staircase. No doubt his chamberlain slept in the room below. I turned and walked slowly to the great bed. The bearskins were soft to my touch. I wondered about them until I recalled that his name came from “Artos,” which meant “Bear.” They were probably a gift. Under the bearskins the bed sheets were fine and white and clean, but not nearly so fine as the ones we had brought him. This lifted my spirits, and I looked around the room again in satisfaction. It was a restful place, and if it suited Arthur, it was a good sign.
I returned to my own chamber and sat upon the bed, thinking hard. I thought I could bear any kind of husband, even a slovenly or domineering one, provided he was fair. It would be impossible to live with a man whose respect could not be won. I was prepared to do anything the High King desired to make him think well of me and not regret his choice. If he was at all fair, the future might be endured. Somehow, seeing his room gave me hope. Next to his skill as a war leader, King Arthur was renowned for his fairness. “Arthur’s justice” was a by-word for fair treatment. If so, perhaps Lancelot was right, and it might not be the trial I dreaded.
But how, dear God, how was Lancelot himself to be endured? He could not leave court—Arthur needed him—and I would die if he left. But how was I to stand it if he stayed? The utter hopelessness of it all swept over me in a wave, and at last I gave in and wept, burying my head in the cushions, sobbing like a child. I did not care. I was alone for the first time in months.
At least, I thought I was alone. But by and by I felt eyes upon me, and when I looked up, I saw a thin youth in a servant’s tunic peeking in through the leather curtain.
He looked dreadfully frightened, and his eyes darted all about. He tried to look anywhere but at me.
“Is—is my lady all right?” he asked timidly. “Is there aught that I can do?”
I sm
iled, wiping my eyes. “There is nothing wrong that time will not heal. I am homesick.”
“Ah.” He plucked nervously at his shirt. “Would you care for honey mead, or perhaps wine?”
“Who are you?”
He bowed low, and kept his eyes down. “My name is Bran, my lady. I am the High King’s body servant.”
“If you are the King’s body servant, why are you not with the King?”
He flushed hotly and stammered. “I—I—I am an apprentice, really. Varric is the chamberlain. He went with the King. I—I came up to straighten the room and set the coals in the grate. Then I heard weeping.”
“Straighten the room?” I cried, incredulous. “There is nothing to straighten!” I gasped as I realized what I had revealed, as Bran looked up and grinned. I burst out laughing then, and he laughed with me. He was about my age.
“Please, Bran, apprentice chamberlain, do not tell the High King you found me weeping in here on the day of my arrival. The last thing he should have to worry about is a foolish, homesick girl.”
“If I know my lord, he will understand it. I was homesick, too, when I first came here. He caught me weeping more than once.”
“And what happened? Did you get a whipping?”
His jaw dropped and he stared. “A whipping? From the High King?” He did not know how to respond; clearly he took me for an idiot.
“Never mind. I see you did not. Does the High King never anger, then?”
“My lady, I have not seen it. But I have heard that he does not like his time wasted.”
I smiled. “Who does? Where do you come from, Bran, and how long have you served King Arthur?”
“From Less Britain, my lady. I have been with him five years.”
“You are content to stay? You don’t miss your home?”
He straightened. “I wish to be nowhere else but here.” Then he smiled. “You will get used to it in time. There’s a lot going on. Kings and princes in and out, knights coming to offer service, knights riding out to adventures, priests and enchanters everywhere—” He stopped as I shuddered.
“And old Merlin lurking about the corridors, no doubt.”
Bran looked sideways out of his eyes, and lowered his voice. “Do not let the High King hear you call him old, my lady. Merlin will not confess what it was that aged him, but the High King believes it was poison.”
Now it was my turn to stare. “Surely your life will be longer if you keep such things to yourself, Bran.”
“I can trust you, my lady,” he said simply, with all the certainty in the world. “Would you like some mulled wine? We have a special way of making it here—”
“No, thank you, Bran. I would like a drink of water.”
“I will bring you a carafe. We have a spring on Caer Camel with the sweetest water in Britain.” He darted back through the curtain and then popped his head through once more.
“You might as well know, my lady. I came up here to set the room to rights because we have just had news. The High King is on his way and will arrive the day after tomorrow.”
12 THE BRIDE
I had no time to be nervous. If we thought we had been busy packing, it was nothing to the unpacking. Good Kay lent us all the hands we wanted, and there was a constant flow of people, laden with furniture, hangings, cushions, and sundry necessities to and from the women’s quarters. Elaine’s rooms rapidly became the most luxurious, and what excess trappings she could not use, she found use for in my sitting rooms. Ailsa established herself in the small sleeping chamber at the foot of my stair. My own bedchamber I left the way I found it except for two things. I hung the singing yellow bird in its willow cage in the corner by the window, and I brought up the small carved bench that I had brought with me from Northgallis when I went to Gwynedd. It had belonged to my mother, and she had covered the bench cushion with needlework of her own design, showing the blue sea, the white stag of Northgallis, and the gray wolf of Gwynedd, with snowcapped Y Wyddfa behind. This bench I set upon the little terrace, so that I could sit there of an evening and watch the setting of the sun as I used to do on the towers of Pellinore’s castle.
The rest of the castle was also thrown into an uproar by the news of Arthur’s coming. The wedding gifts were all laid out, the hundreds of gifts we had collected on our journey were displayed, along with those brought by the lords and nobles who daily arrived and set up tents upon the open fields, come to see the wedding. King Pellinore’s round table was set up in the dining hall, which was the only room big enough for it. All these people who flooded into Caer Camel had to be fed, and there were daily hunting parties into the woodlands for game and to the salt marshes for fowl. All the horses that carried the good folk and pulled their wagons had to be housed and tended to. All these things Kay oversaw, and although he was pressed to fuming point, he never lost his temper or said an unkind word to anyone.
Lancelot kept to the stables, which was part of his responsibility as Arthur’s Master of the Horse, and with Bedwyr he drilled the guard troops daily. I saw him once or twice from Elaine’s window, exercising Zephyr, and it was a rare pleasure to watch my mare’s elegant paces, which I had felt but never seen. Elaine was beside herself with joy and excitement. At long last she was going to see King Arthur in the flesh. She kept pinching herself to be sure that it was not a dream. She could not decide which gown to wear when we were presented to him. I sat upon her cushioned chair and stared out her window, which faced east toward the open meadows and beyond to the wood. The meadows were alive with tents of every description, with lords and ladies from every corner of Britain. I was thankful the weather was dry for there was no mud. As it was, the meadows were so trodden down I wondered if the grass would ever come back.
“Gwen, you’re not attending! I’ve asked you three times if I should wear the yellow or the blue.”
“Wear what pleases you, Elaine.”
“But what are you wearing? I don’t want to wear the same.”
“I don’t know. I haven’t given it thought.”
“But you must! He arrives tomorrow!”
It was an effort to turn away from the window and concentrate on clothing. “What is your mother wearing?”
“The gold.” One should have expected it.
“Then wear the yellow, and I shall wear the blue. I must wear the sapphire, remember.”
“Yes, and have Ailsa dress your hair with the seed pearls and bluebells again, as you did the night the Companions arrived. That was wonderful.”
“There aren’t any bluebells. It’s June.”
“Well, cornflowers then. I know I saw blue flowers in the meadows as we approached King’s Gate. Send Kay to get some.”
I sighed and turned back to the roiling throng that jammed the road from the valley below. “Poor Kay. I suppose I might ask Bran.”
“Who’s Bran?”
“The King’s apprentice chamberlain.”
Her eyebrows rose. “And how did you meet him?”
“Come sleep with me tonight, and I’ll show you. Oh, Elaine, you will be with me tonight, won’t you? Why didn’t you come up to me last night?”
Elaine shook her head. “Mother forbids it. It’s bad luck. The bride must sleep alone until—after you’re married I can.”
“But after I’m married—” I stopped, beginning to shake. The truth was, I had no idea what to expect. No one had ever spoken to me about what arrangements obtained between husband and wife. And everyone might be different. How was I to know what to do?
“I mean, when the King’s away, of course,” Elaine said hastily, coloring. It was too late. Arthur the man had intruded into the conversation, and we could not be comfortable with each other now. I left her shaking out the yellow gown and went to my rooms to help Ailsa unpack my wardrobe.
He came at sundown. The thundering of cavalry could be heard for miles, and I raced down from my chamber to Elaine’s room and huddled with her by the window. Lancelot had troops lining the street from King’s Gate, k
eeping back the crowds. I saw him sitting quietly on Nestor, and Bedwyr was there on his big chestnut, as twilight darkened to night. All the men had torches, and when the King came, he rode down a tunnel of light. His stallion was white and bunched his haunches to come to a sliding stop right at the castle steps. The King slid off in an easy motion as a groom stepped up to grasp the reins. He was too distant to see his features, but we could see his actions well enough. He went to Lancelot, who dismounted and saluted, but the King placed his hands upon his shoulders, said something, and then hugged him warmly.
“He is as tall as Lancelot,” Elaine breathed in my ear. “But how broad his shoulders are!”
“Hush, Elaine.”
He greeted Bedwyr likewise, then mounted the castle steps where Kay saluted at the door. Kay gave a long report and nodded in response to the King’s questions. Then the King embraced him and slapped him on the back. He signaled to the guards, who moved to let the crowd of people into the forecourt, and they gathered at the steps. The King addressed them, but we could not hear his voice, for Elaine’s window was glazed. Then the people raised a great cheer, which we heard even though the glazing, and the King turned and entered his castle. Lancelot glanced swiftly in our direction before he followed.
Elaine and I sat back and exhaled.
“Well!” Elaine exclaimed, glowing. “He’s here at last! And every inch a warrior king. You don’t suppose he would call an audience tonight, do you? After we are all dressed for bed?”
“I shouldn’t think so. He’s been away two months. There must be a lot to catch up on.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I bet most of it’s about you. He’s probably grilling Lancelot right now.”
I turned away, unable to bear the thought of it. “Won’t you come up with me, Elaine? Just for a while?”