The Exile

-Guinevere Alone-

Chapter Two

              Guinevere opened her eyes and felt the chill splash of rain on her face. She stuck her head outside. A steady rain – unseasonably cold - fell from the sky. She ducked her head back inside with a sigh and lay down. It had been rain much like this that had fallen on that morning when she'd woken to find Lancelot gone and herself alone with Merlin and Arthur. She bit her bottom lip in annoyance; she hated thinking about that morning. At first it had been because of Lancelot, who had sworn love to her and then abandoned her almost immediately. Later she hated thinking about it for coolness she had shown Arthur though he had no right to expect otherwise at the time. For months after that she had been especially friendly to the Prince of Camelot. Not overtly so, but enough so that he might see that she did not think so very much of Lancelot.

              She watched the splish-splash of the water onto her bedding for a while, a puddle was forming. Guinevere cupped her hand under the drip until she held a mouthful. One good thing about a steady rainfall was fresh water for no effort. The would-be Queen drank her mouthful and got up. She could not lie about thinking all day if she was going to escape Camelot in the prescribed period of time.

              In this weather there could be no fire so she had a cold breakfast of dried fruits and meat before dressing in soggy clothing and getting on the road for the day. She had to reach Bayberry by nightfall; if for no other reason than a night indoors might allow her things to fully dry. Guinevere studied the sky as she began her day's walk.  Silver grey clouds and rain obscured the sun, but even in the grey dimness she could tell the sun was well-up. It seemed each morning that no matter what she told herself before retiring for the night that she woke later and later.  At this rate she would need more than the ten days she had initially planned. Gwen tallied her progress; she was averaging about 30 miles daily, not too bad. At this pace she'd reach her destination in 12 days. It still left her an eight day cushion in case of the unexpected.

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              Perhaps it was the weather, perhaps it was something else, but with the exception of two lone horsemen Gwen had the road to herself for nearly two hours of travel.  It was just past mid-morn when she heard the pound of many hooves on the road behind her. Her heart began a tom-tom beat in her breast and she felt a tremble run through her body. She didn’t know who the horsemen might be, but she did not want to meet them. Quickly Guinevere turned her cart off the road and hurried into the little dip at the roadside thankful that here, at least, vegetation grew thick, dense and high, and that the road ran higher than the land about it. She forced the cart into the thicket and then dropped flat to wriggle back into the undergrowth herself. Once the shrubbery and grass enclosed her Gwen cleared the screen of vegetation before her eyes. She watched barely daring to breathe as mail-suited men in scarlet capes bearing the sign of the golden dragon rode by.  She did not see Sir Leon, Percival, Gwaine, Elyan or heaven forbid Arthur amongst them, but she recognized Sir Kay and a few others. There were certainly knights amongst this group that would recognize her too.

              Guinevere may have been perfectly within her rights to use the road, but that did not mean she wanted to see anyone that knew her shame. She lay hidden in the bushes for a very long time after they passed. And as she lay hiding a new thought came to her.

              The Knight's mission she could not guess, but she knew people would ask them questions. The people would ask for the news of the Kingdom. They would ask about King Arthur's wedding, about his commoner bride... Her stomach roiled and she tasted bile in the back of her throat as tears moistened her eyes. The gossip would be ahead of her now.  It would not be hard to guess who she might be. While it would not be illegal to help her or rent her a room; that did not mean anyone would. She'd have to give a false name, and she'd need a story to explain who she was, why she was on the road by herself. The trembling began anew. Her journey was about to get worse, much worse.

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              Blue and white silk caressed her skin, flowed over legs; seed pearls gleamed with their iridescence on a web work of pale lilac embroidery. This was the last day her hair would flow freely. When she woke on the morrow she would be a woman wed. Arthur, she thought suddenly of their wedding night…There would be no more resistance of their mutual passion. Indeed their duty to Camelot required them to see their passion for one and other through to its logical conclusion time and again. Gwen felt a pleasant tightening low in her belly as she recalled Arthur's hands slipping across the material of her bodice lower and lower, but always with that fabric betwixt them. Tonight though- Fire coursed through her veins and she looked up from the embroidery of her skirt at the sound of the door opening.

              Lancelot!

              But he was dead!

              What was he doing here!?

              Why was she going to him!!?

              Putting her arms around him!!??

              Touching his lips to hers!!!!

              She screamed a soundless stop. Tried to make her body do something, anything: tear away from him, hit him…But she seemed to act under the will of another seemed to be watching from someplace else. Gwen looked away from the couple: saw Arthur in his wedding finery, felt the waves of heart break wash over him, wash over her.

              "Girl!"

              All of hell in his eyes- they were destroying him!

              "Girl!"

              She was destroying him!

              Pain lanced through her side and Guinevere focused on it as an escape from that which she wanted no part of. She opened her eyes to a dark world awash with tears.

              "Fool of a girl!"

              In the flickering light of a single lantern she saw a face hard, bitter and female twisted with annoyance. Guinevere took in the dark room, the plaster wall, and the banked coals of the fireplace. She was in the inn; she'd paid for a pallet on the floor, a place to dry her rain sodden things, two hot meals: supper and breakfast.

              "Yer awake at last."

              "Yes." She replied, her voice husky with sleep.

              "Good I've folded your things for you. Now get you gone."

              "It's not sun-up yet."

              "No its not and make no mistake I'll not have you here past that time."

              She shrank away for a moment.

              "That’s right I know who you are and if you don't get moving very soon the entire village will know it as well."

              "My breakfast-"

              "-Is packed and it's more than you deserve, selfish jade. Its women like you that make it hard for the rest of us. Your wash water is heated. It's your choice if you use it, but I expect you out in no more than half-an-hour."

              For a long moment Gwen stared at the woman.

              "Well get moving."

              The would-be queen pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the sigh in her muscles. She washed with the water the woman had promised, dressed and packed her things, taking only enough time to make certain that nothing was left behind.  Outside the village Guinevere stopped to eat the breakfast the woman had packed. Stale bread, day old porridge, and boiled eggs made up her meal. The fresh bread the innkeeper had boasted of on the previous night was only beginning to bake as she was getting on the road. When she was done Guinevere probed her aching side with gentle fingers. That woman had kicked her. The easy part of her journey was indeed over.


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              Mary awoke to her husband shaking her and his worried face.

              "She's gone."

              "What?" She glanced to the window the sun wasn't even fully risen.

              "Been gone for some time now I think I ran the length of the village and went along the road for a ways no sign of her."

              "Blast it."

              "She left this note."

              He thrust the paper in her direction and she glared at him.

              "Sorry." He apologized and began reading:

                     Dear Aunt & Uncle,

                  I am so sorry to leave without saying good-bye, but I feared that you would endanger yourselves by trying to accompany me or keep me from leaving altogether. I love you both too much to allow that. You have probably guessed that I have been banished from court and all of Camelot. I have only myself to blame for this. I cannot yet put into writing all that has happened, but I know you will learn in time.

              When you do learn please forgive me for the shame I have brought upon my family. Also please do not be angry with Elyan. If you knew all that had passed you would understand his actions and he is also our family.

            I am making for Ealdor and shall write to you when I am settled there.

                                                                                                  Love Your Niece,

                                                                                                  Gwen

              "That child she is just like her mother!" Mary snatched the letter from her husband and studied it as if she might learn something more of her niece's fate from it.

              "What d'you suppose might have happened?"

              "How should I know?" She glared and saw him pull back a bit. "Sorry, I'm just so worried about her."

              The older woman got out of bed.

              "She's Jane's only daughter and the only one that looks anything like grandmam and she's leaving us too now."

              "She seemed so happy when she was here before." John mused.

              "Yes she did. She and the king seemed so in love." Mary sighed and pulled her shawl around her shoulders. "It was sweet the way the two of them were. Reminded me of you and I when we were young."

              "Well then everything will be all right." John got to his feet.

              "What do you mean by that?"

              He gave her arms an affectionate squeeze.

              "If he loves her half as much as I love you then everything will work itself out."

              "That's sweet John, but it's not safe out there alone."

              "I know and that's why I am going to go and look for her."

              "Thank you." She smiled finally.

              "Think about this though. Gwen is smart, and brave, and resourceful, and regardless of how hard things are getting for her she will be fine."

              "I hope you're right."

             
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              Gwen lit her lamp and worried over the waste of fuel. She shouldn't have been trying to camp in the dark, she should have selected her campsite long before now, but then she should have been sleeping on a pallet indoors. 
The young woman looked over her should in the direction of Breghed. The only person that had recognized her in Bayberry had been the innkeeper's wife. In Breghed two days later everyone seemed to have a guess about who she might be and though by law she could have stayed in the village she'd been met with glares. She'd finally approached a tall, dark-haired woman that looked less hostile than everyone else. The woman had glared, said some very unpleasant things and slammed her door. None of the other villagers looked any friendlier and Gwen had hurried through as fast as she could.

              It was impossible really to look for a campsite in the dark. The waning moon was less than half full now, its light did not penetrate the forest and her little lantern only gave her a view of a few feet. What if she accidentally selected a game trail or some such? What if she fell and broke her neck?

              "Guinevere." A woman's voice called to her from the darkness, "You don't know me, but I want to help you."

              She looked in the speaker's direction.

              "They're wrong, you know. I mean, to turn you out like this. If the King had wanted you dead he'd have ordered your execution and he didn't. So who are we to turn death into exile?"

              A dark-haired woman came into view and Gwen stared in surprise.

              "You-"

              "-I'm sorry. My name is Tilda and I have my own reputation to consider."

              Gwen recognized the woman that had called her names and slammed the door in her face.

              "Come I know these woods. There's a ruined mansio not far at all, but you'd never find it if you didn't know where to look for it. "

              Each of them took hold of the cart with a hand piece and held their lanterns high with the other. Tilda led her to a collapsing villa.

              "It's not as nice as it was during the days of the empire, but people respect the traditions around it still and you should be safe here."

             They found a stonewalled room and got a fire going while Gwen unpacked the things she'd need for the night.

             "Since it's not part of the village you won't have to hurry off." When the fire was crackling merrily, Tilda handed her a parcel and turned to go.

              "Wait a moment. Thank you, but why?"

             "My sister was an adulteress, she suffered mightily for it."

             "Oh. I'm sorry."

             "Don't be." Tilda hurried off into the dark. "I'll try to come by in the morning."

              Gwen unwrapped the parcel and felt her mouth water as the fragrance of roast pigeon wafted toward her.


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