Prologue
The land had forgotten the turmoils of the past. Places once red with flames, where warriors fought for their lives and for that of King Arthur, were now back to their evergreen.
Arthur himself was raised completely unaware of all that had happened. No one knew who he was. Not even his brother and best friend, Kay. His adopting father, Sir Ector, never had time to speak about it. In fact, he seldom had time for him at all. Not that he was stern in any way; he was as kind as any father could be, when he was actually there. He just…wasn’t there. Neglected was the word Arthur would have chosen if he had the capacity as a child to think about it.
There weren’t that many people around Arthur to begin with. Apart from Kay, Ector and his wife, there were his teachers, with whom he hardly found anything in common, a few servants, and the occasional guest.
Kay was the one person he could really talk to. With Ector, it was seldom more than a “Yes, sir,” and a “Hope I’m not interrupting you, sir.” It seemed that no matter what he did, he always managed to interrupt him. Arthur would have gone very far just to please him, but nothing he had to say or do ever seemed enough. He often wondered why Sir Ector had adopted him in the first place.
It is strange to think that this boy, with his bright-red hair and dreamy eyes, who found it hard to speak to the man who raised him, would one day be the greatest king that humanity ever saw.
Even stranger, that a sword stuck in a stone, named Excalibur, would be the turning point in his life. And that pulling it out in front of the old knights who had served his real father, King Uther Pendragon, marked his recognition as the late king’s true heir and also his immediate rise to the throne.
That one sword, and a good mage to guide him, gave him the courage and wisdom to do the right things. His humble upbringing opened his heart to the suffering of his people, and for the first time, commoners with valor were accepted as knights. He fought for equality, and taught his knights bravery, chivalry, and loyalty. Through them, he rose to greatness.
But he was betrayed, by no other than his first knight. The one thing that came between them had also caused the destruction of Camelot. It was a woman. And that woman’s name was Guinevere.
Well, all I can say, is that this is one version of the story. And that some of it is true.
Part One – The Maiden – Chapter 1
AD 524
The thorns hurt when they scratched my legs, and my dress was torn by the brambles. But I had to keep running. It was the only way to get out of this terrible enchanted forest alive.
I turned to see whether I could spot the mage who had trapped me in these woods. My heart beat fast.
There was a strange smell in the air, some sort of poison. It clouded my senses. For a moment, I suddenly thought that I was back home, where I grew up. But no, that was impossible. I was still in the forest, running for my life. The air became denser as the scent of the drug surrounded me. I tried to hold my breath, but I couldn’t. Not while I was running.
Another memory came: the wide stone walls of my father’s castle. And then, just like that, I was back in Cameliard, where it all started.
“I want to speak with you, Guinevere. About something important.” My father, Leodogran, Lord of Cameliard, had a serious expression on his face.
It was late, after dinner. The flames of the candles were now close to their bases. My father took me to his study, through the cold and gloomy halls of Cameliard Castle. It rained heavily outside, and the noise was stronger than our footsteps when we passed by the windows.
We climbed up the narrow circular stairs, and he pushed open the heavy wooden door of his chamber. It creaked.
I was seldom allowed here. Not a big loss. The place was dark and the walls plain, without ornamented tapestry or paintings. He didn’t like heat, so the fire was never on for too long and this was already the coldest room in the castle. Unfortunately, the minimal warmth of candles couldn’t provide enough heat against the harshness of the chilling nights.
“I don’t suppose you ever gave much thought to King Arthur?” He moved toward the farther end of the room.
King Arthur? No. Not really. My cousin Elaine liked to talk about him. I had other interests. “No, Father.”
“Well, you might want to start now. Because he thinks of you.”
If I hadn’t known any better, I would have thought that he was joking. But the Lord of Cameliard was not the type to joke. At least not in the fifteen years that I had known him.
“Please. Have a seat.”
There were two chairs in the room. Large, wooden ones. With legs too high to be comfortable, especially for a woman. That was his style.
We sat opposite each other, and I hugged myself to keep warm, wrapping my woolen peplos tightly around me. He reached out to a half-empty shelf behind him and picked up a folded paper. “A letter arrived today.”
“A letter.” I found myself repeating his words. I wasn’t used to receiving mail. Most of the people I knew lived with us.
He smiled. “I understand you went to the marketplace this afternoon.”
“Yes. To get fabric for a new dress,” I lied quickly. He wouldn’t like the real reason I was there: a book of old poems, handwritten and illustrated by its author. Nobody sold books anywhere—it was a rare find. I saw it yesterday, but I was out of money then. And when I returned today, it was still there. My father didn’t like my enthusiasm with books.
And he would have liked the other reason I went there even less: an opportunity to speak with the butcher’s son. He had mysterious grey eyes and very dark hair—I loved the combination. And the way he looked at me.
“You seem to have drawn attention to yourself.”
“Sir?” Did he find out? I hadn’t told anyone, about the books or the young man.
And what did any of it have to do with the young king?
My father unfolded the paper, and I immediately noticed that it bore the royal symbol. “You have made me proud today. I’ll read it to you.”
I opened my mouth to protest; I could read on my own. But I thought the better of it. I put my hands on my lap and listened.
He cleared his throat and started, out loud:
Sire,
I write you in anguish, begging that you will grant my heart’s greatest wish.
While I was nonchalantly passing through your town, I had the divine privilege of catching a glimpse of a beautiful woman, whom I am told is your daughter, Guinevere. I instantly perceived her to be the most beautiful, graceful, honorable, quiet, and peaceful lady I have ever laid eyes on.
To be concise, great sir, I would request of you the honor of setting my engagement to the fair maiden. All matters related will be discussed with you at your earliest convenience.
Your humble servant,
King Arthur
“You are joking!”
My father smiled. “Not at all, my dear.”
He misunderstood. I didn’t think he was toying with me. I thought that the note and its language were absurd. The king saw me for a moment and, based on that, decided who I was, and that he wanted me to be his wife? We didn’t even speak!
And how could it happen without my noticing it? I would have recognized Arthur. There were paintings of him and his knights in places I’d been to. I now recalled that there were murmurs in the crowd when I was busy negotiating with the bookseller. That must have been when he rode through the marketplace. I hadn’t even turned.
My father handed me the letter. “I am certain that our great king wrote this note in earnest, my dear. And it’s well written.”
Too well written! “Sir, if I may, the letter seems somewhat…overly done. Arthur, he…makes assumptions about me. He doesn’t know me.”
“Most court-men arrange marriages without even seeing their brides.”
And we all knew how unloving those marriages can be!
The expression on my father’s face spoke of expectation. He wanted me to be enthusiastic about this.
“Umm…surely, you would allow us to get to know each other before you make an engagement.”
His smile vanished. “You want me to refuse the king?”
“I want to meet him a few times. Get to know him.”
“What’s there to know?” He gave me a sharp look.
“Well…if I’m going to spend my life with a man, I think I should know everything I can about him.”
“You think too much. You would be queen of the land! Any woman would trade places with you.”
“But what type of life would I have? What kind of person am I marrying?”
“Arthur is king!” His voice echoed in the half-empty room. “And a great one. One who is known to be kind most of the time.”
“And the rest of the time?”
“Guinevere!”
“Father, if I am to marry a man, I must know his lesser sides. Please, let us meet before anything is set in stone. Let us know each other. Let me marry him for love.”
“Love?” His eyes narrowed and then he turned away from me, as if that one word was the deepest offense. His shoulders shook, and his breath tensed, like it did before he was about to blow out in rage. He turned back and banged his fist on the arm of his chair. “Insolent child! Have I not taken care of you since your mother died—given you everything? What more could you possibly want? What more is there? You’d be queen! Do you have any idea where our family would be thanks to this? What riches and power would be in your hands! And you dare refuse?!”
“No. Not refuse. Prudently delay. All I’m asking—”
He raised his hand to silence me. “We’ll talk again when you are ready to behave like an adult, to show me how proud you are of what’s offered to you.”
Proud? Thankful, perhaps. But being sold like that, even at the highest price, could never make me proud.
Leodogran, Lord of Cameliard, raised his eyebrows. It was his signal that he wanted me to leave. The conversation was over.
I sighed. I’d have to try again later.
The hallway was dark as I walked to my rooms. My cousin, Elaine, was my guest tonight. I hurried, hoping I would find her still awake.
She sat by the fire when the servant opened the door for me, and I was immediately greeted by the soft colors of my sitting room and its warm air. It was quiet. Here, you could hardly hear the thrashing of the raindrops against the walls and windows.
“I love this place.” Elaine smiled at me as she warmed her hands, enjoying the heat of the flames. Her long, curly blonde hair was loose, and her feet were bare.
“You keep saying that.” I went to sit beside her, picking up a cozy blanket to curl in.
Elaine made space for me, her curvy body moving elegantly to the side.
I’d sometimes find myself envying my cousin’s appearance. She was three years older, but even when she was my age, she already looked like a woman. Though, apart from that, and the hair, we actually looked alike. Some people said we could have been sisters, even twins.
My hair was a very light auburn that never quite worked with any color I wore. My father insisted I keep it covered, so that solved the problem. And my body…well, it was taking its time. I was, how to say it, unfortunately still slim in all the wrong places. I had only just started having “a woman’s way” and that was a concern for my father.
I now sat down and let myself get warmed by the fire. I pulled up the long sleeves of my lilac woolen dress, to feel the heat more directly, after my father’s cold room. The lace from my white underdress played on my skin.
“What did your father want to talk about?” Elaine sometimes helped me deal with him. She had that special kind of sophistication that made a woman successful in court.
I had other gifts. Ones I was proud of. I could remember well books I read ten years ago—I could already read back then. I was good with numbers and languages. I loved art.
Court life wasn’t really my calling. There wasn’t enough challenge for the mind there. As a girl, I dreamed of ending up at some remote abbey, translating ancient scripts and studying music. I sometimes went to Amesbury Abbey to listen to the nuns sing, and I’d imagine living there until a handsome knight would come and sweep me off my feet.
Not quite what my father had in mind.
“He…got a message from a suitor.”
Her face lit up. “A suitor? How exciting! And you rejected it with poise?”
“I can’t reject it. He expects me to go with it.”
“What? Who is it?”
“It’s…” I took a breath. “The king. Arthur.”
“What?!” Her jaw dropped.
Elaine was a bit of an admirer of the young king. I still had the letter with me, so I gave it to her. Her bright brown eyes, a similar color to mine, skimmed its contents. She was shocked at first and then amused. She laughed at certain bits that she read back to me.
Yes, it really was a weird letter.
Finally, she put it down. “Flirting with the high throne, are we?”
I chuckled. “I didn’t even see him.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“I swear it. I was busy with…” I hadn’t told her about the real reasons I’d gone to the market. “Selecting fabrics.”
“Is that so?”
“Oh, come on. I didn’t intentionally cause this. Do you think I want to get married?”
“You could do worse than Arthur.”
“What? Whose side are you on?”
She laughed. “I’m just saying… Rumor is out that he recently ended his relationship with the Lady of Broceliande. Might be on the rebound.”
“He proposes marriage. And he’s being completely ridiculous, too. Look at how he describes me.”
“Oh, please. He didn’t write this letter himself.”
That had crossed my mind. “I could only hope he didn’t. Otherwise, he’d be kind of delusional.”
“He’s not. He’s a great king—you couldn’t achieve everything he’s done, at such a young age, without having your head straight. Come to think of it, he could be a good match for you.”
“You don’t know that.”
We didn’t normally have the same taste in men. She didn’t like the dark looks of the butcher’s son. Arthur’s red curls were something she marveled at. And she liked the young king’s political achievements, whereas I found his work to develop the land and help the poor, and his interest in the rights of the people, more inspiring. Or the fact that he took the throne in his early teens and held it so strongly at a young age.
And, he did have a fascinating story of how he’d gained that throne. He was adopted at birth and didn’t know who he was until he happened to draw a magical sword, Excalibur, from a stone where it was stuck for years. It happened accidentally, in front of the knights, and that sword proved he was the true son of the late King Uther Pendragon.
Highly unlikely. I, too, once pulled a stick from the ground and nobody made me queen. But I liked it. I liked myths and legends. I suspected the true man didn’t really live up to those, though. Nobody was a Hercules-type demigod in reality.
“Cousin,” she smiled, “you need to give him a chance. Play along with this. See what he’s like.”
“What if we meet and I have nothing to say to him?”
“Not a problem. Most men of court would prefer to do all the talking themselves. You’d be the perfect lady.”
I laughed.
“Just try. You know that an engagement can always be called off.”
“You want me to toy with the heart of a king? That’s playing with fire!”
“Not if you do it wisely. If it doesn’t work out, make him think it was his decision to leave you.”
That was so like her.
“I’d rather not be in that position to begin with.”
“But you might find that you actually like him.” She straightened in her seat and looked at me. Her expression became serious. “You’re overly cautious. Being like that comes at a cost. It cages you.”
I looked away and my eyes landed on the flames that played in the fireplace. “I’m already caged. I always have been.” My father didn’t like me to travel too far, and there weren’t any courts close to us—apart from Elaine, I had few friends, whom I barely saw.
“You keep saying that; you forget your father is just being protective. You’re all he’s got since he lost your mother. He’s still grieving after all these years. That’s why he’s alone.”
“But…it’s his grief. I don’t have to stop living because of it. Anyhow, whatever new prison I am going to enter in this life, I would face it with prudence.”
“Well, I can’t argue with that.”
The conversation moved to other subjects, and after that, she went to her bed, and I went to mine.
That night, I dreamed of Camelot.
I didn’t know much about the town. My father took me there once, when they were still building the northern tower of Arthur’s castle.
Camelot was small and beautiful, surrounded by hills. It used to be a farmer’s village long ago. But it got burnt down and lay in ruins until Arthur came to rebuild it as his capital. Now it was a bustling hub.
An old traveling knight who stayed with us once said that the city was created by mages. It was a joke, of course. Mages didn’t have permanent spells. Not even Merlin, Arthur’s first mage.
He fascinated me. The chronicles of our town spoke of him. A mage who was born before Avalon’s Curse.
Avalon’s Curse—that, too, was fascinating. To think that our world was completely different once. Long ago, it was ruled by mages. But Harthenon, the terrible king of Avalon, created a curse—that in the event of his death, mages would lose dominion of the earth. To produce such a terrible and powerful spell, he had to sacrifice mighty dragons and diminish the great fire of Avalon—so nobody could ever reverse it. The Curse scared most mages. They didn’t dare challenge him and his tyranny. Except for one mage, Ivan of Camelot. He stood up to Harthenon and won. But then, the Curse got triggered.
I loved that story. I wanted to be like Ivan. To be brave enough to change things that weren’t right.
But times were different now. Mages served humans. Not just politically, like Merlin. Each one of them also had a Charge. Someone they were destined to love and protect for as long as they both lived, which was a few hundred years. And they used age spells. I wondered how old Merlin really was.
In my dream of Camelot, I saw him—looking just like a drawing in an old book I knew. And I saw Arthur. The king stood in front of his knights. They waited for me outside the palace. One of the knights told me that Arthur could give me a chance to change the world.
But then, I saw a dark shadow. It belonged to a knight I couldn’t see—as if he wasn’t physically there, but I knew from the armored shape of the shadow that he belonged to that group. He whispered to me. His voice was warm and protective, but I couldn’t understand what he was saying.
When I woke up the next morning, the room was quiet. Elaine wasn’t there.
Dew covered my window. I rose slowly and went to open it. Outside, the early morning frost coated the trees that were close to the castle, and mist clouded the rest of the view.
I thought about Arthur’s letter. What was he really like? How soon would I find out? If he was here yesterday, he may still be in the area—my father could surely arrange for us to meet.
There was a knock on the door and Andrivete, my personal maid, entered with a bucket of warm water.
“Thank you,” I said as she filled a basin for me to wash my hands and face.
“Important day for you, my lady.”
“Is it?”
“You don’t know? Two of the king’s knights are here. Arthur is on his way, too.”
“He is?” So my father came around? He was going to allow us to meet before he committed to anything? This was surprisingly good news.
“The king will be arriving very soon.” Andrivete helped me into one of my dresses, brushed my hair, and put my hair cover on. “I think congratulations are in order, my lady?”
“Oh, not yet.” I smiled at her and then went to look in my mirror.
“Sorry. I thought you were engaged to the king. When your father left the room, he and the knights shook hands, after signing something—a…marriage agreement? Everyone’s talking about it. I mean…nobody is talking. None of the servants, anyhow.” She went suddenly pale. “Forgive me for speaking.”
We exchanged glances.
For a moment, I just stood there. Marriage agreement?!
“He wouldn’t!” I heard myself mutter as I turned to rush out of the room and head straight to my father’s study.
He couldn’t do this! We hadn’t agreed. I did not give him my consent.
I marched down one set of stairs and then up another. My steps echoed in the hall, matching how furious I was.
How dare he?! We only spoke of it yesterday night for the first time. And, now, early in the morning… My blood burned in my veins, and my heart pounded loudly.
I reached the study and pushed open the door.
“Ah, my beautiful daughter.”
“Father! What have you done?”
“Only what was best.”
“For whom? Because, definitely, it wasn’t for me.”
“Queen of the country is not good enough for you?”
“Marriage to a man I don’t know…”
“You’ll have your whole life to know him.”
“How could you do this?” I shouted. He was supposed to protect me.
“Lower your voice!” His eyes blazed.
“Or you’ll what?”
He walked behind me and shut the door, his expression grim. “You’d be wise to hide your reluctance. Think about your interest here. And everyone else’s.”
“Interests… Tell me, Father, what was in it for you?” What did he sell me for?
“Enough! You will not shame this family with your attitude.”
“Attitude? This is my life!”
“And I took care of it for you. Like a caring father would, didn’t I? All I demand is obedience in return. I look the other way on your odd habits. You think I didn’t find out about your business in the marketplace? Books! Like that Hebrew book you were translating for the nuns at Amesbury Abbey?”
Our local priest had taught me the language. Along with Latin and Greek. Said I had a gift. My father disagreed that it was a gift.
“I saved you from your own folly. Miraculously, fate intervened and gave you a bright future. With a king, no less! I’m not going to let you ruin it.”
I was dumbstruck. Shocked at his words. I knew he disapproved of my ways, but this…
He sighed. “If only you could be more like your cousin. If only you had your cousin womanly looks…”
“What?!” Of all things he could say to me.
“Oh, don’t be so surprised at my honest observation. You know, you should accept any man who would want a woman of your appearance at your undeveloped age.”
The blood left my face. Tears threatened. “You sold me.” And now I knew why—I wasn’t enough for him. Another man would have talked around the whole thing, convinced the king to start a proper courtship. It would have made my father look better too, but he didn’t even try. Rage boiled inside me again, quivering in my chest. “Coward!” I bellowed.
He shook his head and smiled sadly. “With such a mouth, and such a temper, I could only pity the man who marries you.”
That last sentence rang in my head as I left, slamming the door behind me, tears in my eyes. I didn’t see where I was going.
My feet took me out of the castle and into the misty woods. I walked up to a clearing on the hill, above the tree line. Sometimes, I’d come here to look at Cameliard from a distance. It gave me perspective.
Here, I’d watch the small wooden homes of the peasants, in the distance behind the brick castle walls. The horses towing carts over the moat, the faraway inns, the forests that hid rugged roads. The things that were outside of…home.
But there was nothing to see because of the fog today. Nothing to take my mind away.
I sat on the ground and let my head fall, leaning it on my hands, blocking the world. The tears poured.
My own father detested me. He hated who I was. He couldn’t wait to be rid of me, because I wasn’t the daughter he wanted. Elaine would say that he was just worried for me, that it was all because he cared so much, and that he didn’t know how to show it, so he was so protective. But she was wrong. I was sure of it! It was all just a veil. And now I was certain of how he truly saw me, which was with complete disdain.
Maybe even shame.
Why? Why would my own father…? I let the tears block the world.
I didn’t know how long I cried.
Until a man’s voice suddenly surprised me.
“I…don’t mean to interrupt.”
“Then don’t. Please, go away. I’m all right. I just want to be alone.”
Footsteps approached. “You don’t look like you should be alone.”
I didn’t move. I kept my eyes shut. “Look, if you’re one of my father’s men come to drag me back…”
“I’m not one of your father’s men.”
“One of Arthur’s knights, then.” Same thing.
“You’re sharp.”
“I only had two options.”
He chuckled.
“I’m sorry. I really don’t want to talk to anyone.”
“I’m like that, too, when I’m upset.” He took a seat next to me but kept enough distance.
“You think I’m upset?”
“I’d put a bet on that.”
By his voice, I could tell he smiled.
“I’m not upset. I’m…sad. And angry. For a good reason.”
“I’m sure you are. But, then, you said you didn’t want to talk about it, so I should keep quiet now.”
I couldn’t help but smile back at that. “Thanks.”
He sat silently beside me.
He proved true to his word. We were both quiet until the crying stopped.
“Thank you, for understanding.” With my now-heavy eyes still shut, I leaned my chin on my arms and wiped the moisture off my face.
“Here.”
A soft cloth touched my skin. He was handing me a handkerchief.
“Thanks.” The fabric was rough but had a pleasant scent.
“You’re welcome. For what it’s worth, I think it’s not an easy thing that is expected of you. It shows character, that you fought your father over this.”
“What?” Was he for real? I took a deep breath. “Since when is character a good thing?” It certainly wasn’t in my father’s eyes.
“Since it means you know your own worth. You don’t just agree to a political arrangement. Not even with the king. You are cautious, refusing what most girls would have agreed to blindly.”
“Well, some would say that it’s better not to be so cautious.” Elaine did—the daughter my father really wanted.
“Then, they don’t have your depth. And your strength.”
“Who are you?”
“Why don’t you open your eyes? Or, would you rather guess?”
I giggled.
“I made you laugh.”
“Yes. You’re…growing on me. I bet Arthur chose you as his knight, because of the way you listen to people. So that one day you could convince his obstinate bride to step down a hill and stop crying.”
He chuckled. “He didn’t choose me.”
“What?” I opened my eyes and turned.
Sitting beside me, with his curly red hair and dreamy blue eyes, dressed in full attire, with the symbol of the royal knight’s order, was the young King Arthur.