rabbit hearted boy, part five
Part Four
Part Five
Gwen smoothed down her apron as she walked nimbly through the castle corridors. She had only been in her new position for just over two weeks now and the castle still seemed to have lots of hidden secrets, but she was confident she knew her way around it well enough for what her tasks usually entailed. She was slightly less certain, but still quite positive, that despite her inexperience she was performing those tasks to a competent, if not good, degree. At the very least, Marie said that Cook had taken a liking to her and she had been given the additional duty of acting as one of two handmaidens to their impending visitor Lady Morgana, and Gwen did not think they would have done so if they thought badly of her.
The Lord Gorlois Le Fey and his daughter Morgana were expected in less than an hour, and although Gwen and some of the other girls had finished preparing their rooms, she would be needed in the kitchen soon to start making the dinner. However, she thought she had just enough time to squeeze in a visit she meant to have paid a long time ago. Her father had told her much of Gaius, the benevolent court physician, who had even tended to Gwen’s mother but been unable to heal her from the illness that had taken her life. When she had set off from their humble home for the castle in search of employment now that the forge was not doing well enough to support them both, her father had made her promise she would seek out the physician whether she was given a post or not, as Tom valued him highly. Gwen had intended to visit him when she’d first started, but she’d been kept so busy she hadn’t a chance to - and she’d learnt from Merlin that except for doing his work he didn’t stir from his chambers unless it was a special request from the king so she was reasonably sure she hadn’t passed him by unrecognised in the hallways - but now that she had at least half an hour before she had to be back at the kitchen she thought she would try her luck.
She’d listened closely when Merlin had given her the directions, and was reasonably sure she was at the right place when she knocked on the door. There was no answer, but the door was not closed fully so she ventured to open it further and see if the man was present and simply hadn’t heard her, but she met with someone else.
“Oh my!”
Merlin was the person she had spoken to the most since she started work, as not only did many of their duties overlap, he was quite friendly too, and knowing him relatively well by now including that he was Gaius’ ward, she was not at all surprised to find him in the physician’s chambers.
She was, however, surprised by the sight of the floating objects around his head being scrubbed by rags all seemingly moving of their own accord.
“Gwen!” he exclaimed, and at his cry a few of the objects fell to the ground.
Gwen’s eyes widened as she watched the remaining items hover in the air, some of the rags moving in a circular pattern but rubbing only at the air. “That’s…you…” she stumbled, and Merlin quickly turned around and grabbed at the items in the air to put them back down.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, hopelessly failing at his attempt to keep his voice neutral.
“I…I was looking for Gaius. I didn’t mean to intrude - the door wasn’t closed properly, so I thought…You can do magic,” she said suddenly.
“Everyone knows that,” he replied hastily.
Gwen nodded, but shook her head a moment later. “Yes, I was told - but they said you could only make shapes; patterns in the smoke…or something like that. That,” she pointed at the objects he was stacking on top of each other on the table, “was proper magic.”
“No, no,” Merlin shook his head, “not proper magic. Just another little thing I can do. People just don’t mention it because it’s not as amusing as making shapes out of smoke. That’s a real trick,” he said vehemently. He smiled at her, but she could see the tremors he tried to hide.
“I won’t tell if that’s what you are worried about.”
Merlin eyed her warily. He liked Gwen a lot, and they got on very well, but it was still so early in their acquaintance he would have hesitated before calling her a friend. Still, he didn’t have much of a choice but to simply accept her words…and maybe finally tell Gaius that he had figured out to do a few more things with his powers. “Okay.”
“I suppose Gaius isn’t here then?”
“He’s visiting some of his patients in the town. You’re not unwell are you?”
“No, I just wanted to say hello.”
“Oh, yes,” Merlin remembered, “you mentioned that…was it your father, who knew him?”
“Yes, he asked me to visit him.”
“How long ago was that? I don’t think Gaius has left Camelot since he brought me here.”
“It was when I was a little girl; we used to live in Camelot. My father was a blacksmith here.”
“Before Alistair, the royal backsmith?”
“At the same time actually. That’s why we had to leave; there wasn’t enough work for them both. My father learned that King Alined was lacking blacksmiths so we moved.”
“If you were living in Alined’s kingdom why did you come to Camelot in search of work here?” Merlin inquired, glad they were moving the subject along.
“Because my father is making less than he used to and I could not find any work there. One of my cousins lives in Camelot so I am staying with her and her family.”
“That was lucky then, you found work here.”
Gwen paused. “Well, actually…it was not luck.”
“How do you mean?” he wondered.
“About a year before we moved away the King promised my father he would be rewarded for services he had rendered Camelot and would be helped in any way possible. He left that promise in writing, and it was that writing that I knew would secure me a position in the castle.”
“Wow, what did your father do for Camelot?”
Gwen laughed, but without much humour. “He happened to have a chimney in the right place at the right time.”
“A chimney?” Merlin repeated.
“Prince Arthur floated out of the castle once when he was very young and they could not reach him until he ended up on the chimney at my father’s forge.”
Merlin roared with laughter. “I’ve heard a lot of stories about Arthur flying away somewhere - been involved with a few too many to be honest - but they never get old.”
“I have heard…you two are…friends?” she asked, curiously.
“Yeah.” At her look he added, “I know I’m a servant but -”
“No, it’s not that.” Gwen shrugged. “He just seems…odd. I think he must be a strange person to be friends with.”
“He is a little I suppose. The thing about Arthur is that he can’t really escape from the enchantment.”
Gwen nodded. “It must have been somewhat bizarre for you to have had a friend who was getting blown away,” she said, and laughed lightly.
Merlin laughed too, but countered, “It was a little, but then I grew up with it so, weirdly, I got used to it. But that’s not the only way the enchantment affected him, you know?”
“It’s not?” Gwen wondered.
Merlin shook his head. “No. - I thought everyone knew about the spell.”
“Everyone knows Camelot’s prince cannot balance in high winds…I do not know if everyone knows anything more. I don’t, and I was told not to mention it.”
“Yeah, it’s a bit of a touchy subject sometimes. But the gist is that the spell didn’t just affect his physical balance, but his mind too.”
“You make him sound unstable.”
Merlin chuckled. “No, not unstable. You see Arthur was enchanted to have both lightness of body and spirit. So he could never take anything seriously; he only wanted to do things that were fun or silly, everything was entertaining. And when we were children, I enjoyed that,” Merlin admitted. “It was nice to have a friend I could have fun with after doing all my duties, even if we got into trouble for it more times than not. But, as we grew up…Arthur didn’t really grow up with me, you know?” When Gwen nodded, Merlin continued, “To be honest, that’s kind of one of the reasons I like talking to you. Not that you’re not nice for your sake,” he added hastily, “it’s just…it is nice to have someone my own age who I can talk to who can talk about important things normally, and not just when they’re in water.”
Gwen was perfectly ready to tell Merlin she understood what he was trying to say, until he finished his sentence. “Water?”
“Yeah. You know how Arthur goes swimming all the time.”
She nodded; she did know. “But I thought that was because he could not be blown away while in it.”
“He can’t; but it also helps him clear his head; restores that part of what the spell took from him as well.” Things started to fall into place in Gwen’s mind when Merlin added, “You know, it’s funny, I’ve actually started to notice something different about Arthur.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, sometimes it’s like the water has an effect on him that lasts even when he comes out of it. - Not hugely, and only at certain times, mind, but on occasion, even when he’s completely dry, it’s like…he’s completely normal.”
“That is odd.”
“Hmm. Maybe if he swims for long enough Arthur will reverse the spell,” Merlin joked.
“Maybe,” Gwen said, with a smile.
The conversation had already progressed to an end when they heard the lowering of the drawbridge, signalling visitors.
“Oh! Do you think that is our guests?”
“Probably,” Merlin guessed. “They do arrive early sometimes.”
“Oh dear, I am supposed to be waiting outside the Lady Morgana’s chambers for when she arrives.”
Merlin smiled. “Oh, don’t worry, Morgana won’t mind if you’re a little late.”
“I suppose she is a friend of yours too, Merlin?”
He shrugged. “We did spend a lot of time together when we were children and she would visit the castle more often than she and her father do now. But I don’t know that I would say we were friends. - She was always making fun of my magical skills,” he pointed out, at first as a joke, but then remembered what Gwen had witnessed and grew quiet.
“Truly, Merlin I promise I will not tell.”
“Okay. Thanks.” He nodded, and although he was still a little wary, for some reason Merlin felt he trusted her.
*
Morgana looked dubiously at her father before glancing back between the king and the queen. In the past she’d heard numerous excuses to explain away Arthur’s lateness or absence, but the one King Uther had just uttered when apologising for Arthur’s nonappearance at their arrival, had to be the strangest. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
Uther sighed deeply. “Arthur is swimming, I’m afraid. I told him when he had to be ready to greet you both, but it would seem he has lost track of time.”
“It happens sometimes when he goes swimming,” Ygraine added, apologetically.
“Indeed,” Uther affirmed. “Even now we have built him a private lake right behind the castle; sometimes he seems to be out more than he is inside.”
Gorlois assured his friends that he and Morgana did not feel slighted in the least and was sure it was most necessary for Arthur to be occupied as he presently was; and would be just as happy to see him later, at a time more appropriate to the prince. Gorlois looked to his daughter to add to his remarks, but her gaze remained straight on.
“Arthur’s swimming,” she rolled the sounds off her tongue slowly.
“Arthur regains his balance when he swims,” Ygraine explained.
Morgana, uncertain, flitted her eyes back to her father, but Gorlois’ hard-set expression reminded her equally that they were in company now - the company of two people who are not only among the most powerful in all of Albion, but also his oldest friends. She was in more than just ordinary society; she had to be more than just merely polite.
“That’s wonderful,” she said with a grin. “Is he cured, then?”
Ygraine paused before answering, “Actually, no, the effects are reversed when he is out of the water and dry once more, but we do have reason to hope that perhaps…after some time the swimming will have a longer lasting effect.”
Morgana pretended that she didn’t see the corners of Uther’s mouth twitch, as she replied to Ygraine, keeping the smile on her face. “Well, I hope very much that that will be the case.”
Ygraine smiled back graciously, and Morgana was pleased that even her father seemed to have thought her genuine. She kept up her pleasant demeanour as they were taken into the castle and shown to their regular quarters. Morgana greeted the two girls assigned to seeing to her needs agreeably - she didn’t recognise either from previous visits but both seemed nice albeit quiet - but she dismissed them almost as soon as she could, and made her own way back through the castle.
Morgana had grown used to being by herself when she was very young. By the time she was ten her father decided it was time for him to stop wandering about forests and mountain ranges and live properly in one house again. Uther had been quite eager for them returning to Camelot, but both Gorlois and Morgana had grown fond of a particular forest range that ran through King Olaf’s land; and Olaf was only too keen for them to live under his roof, and for Morgana to be a companion to Vivian. Princess Vivian had grown up slightly more annoying than she was when they were children, but she was not always intolerable to be around. Furthermore, Morgana enjoyed her father’s company, which she had often, and that of her own handmaiden, but she still enjoyed stealing away to her forest most and, when she was able, going as far as the moors.
It was not that she did not like Camelot, but one had to go quite far into it to find the kind of lush, dense forestry she had grown used to seeing as a child, and they did not get the chance to go out of the castle, let alone the town, very often. But she did enjoy the castle gardens, and made her way to them deftly, intending to enjoy at least an hour’s peace there before she would be expected to return to her chambers and dress for dinner.
She had just reached the gardens, and begun taking the familiar path to her old favourite bench when she heard two men speaking. Used to being alone in this part of the castle - the only people she had ever encountered here in her many visits were the gardener, the occasional servant and, once, the queen - Morgana was surprised by the sounds, and changed her direction to follow the voices.
“Careful, sire!” one of them called out, causing her to smile.
She definitely recognised that voice; poor, put-upon Sir Leon, which, of course, meant he was running after Arthur. She didn’t have to walk much further up before she saw them coming around one of the hedges. Arthur was adjusting the collar of his tunic as he walked, while Leon came up behind him, one hand full of wet clothing, the other a towel.
“Just a minute, sire,” Leon said again, and now that he was just behind Arthur put the towel on his head and started rubbing it.
“I am dry enough, Leon!” Arthur protested, his face only half visible now it was covered in the green towel.
“Not to greet the Lord Gorlois and his daughter,” Leon argued.
“I’m afraid you are a little too late for that,” Morgana spoke up, alerting the men to her presence.
Leon looked up sharply at her words, then dropped his hand from Arthur’s head before bowing with the clothes still clenched in his other. “My lady.”
“Morgana,” Arthur said, using one of his hands to move the towel and finish lazily drying his hair. “I thought you weren’t due to arrive just yet.”
“We arrived a good half an hour ago, actually.”
“Oh. I am sorry I was not there to meet you and your father.”
“It is fine. Your father explained you were probably… doing something more important.”
She noticed Arthur had the good grace to look somewhat sheepish. “I lost track of time. I am very sorry. I hope you are in good health though, and Gorlois too.”
Morgana was startled by the remark. She’d known Arthur all his life, and most of hers, and was absolutely certain she’d never once heard him enquire as to how anyone else was feeling, not to mention so courteously. “Thank you, I am well,” she responded, eyeing him suspiciously as he continued to dab at his hair.
Arthur removed the towel then, ran his other hand through his hair, and on determining it to be dry tossed the towel over his shoulder without looking for Leon to catch. That was the Prince Arthur she knew.
Thoroughly confused, Morgana turned the conversation. “Ygraine said that your swimming helps with your balance.”
“Yes. I like swimming very much. - Actually,” he remembered suddenly, “it is not time for dinner yet, is it?”
“No, not for some time,” Morgana stated.
“Well, then, Leon, let’s get back,” Arthur remarked, and turned around to lead the way.
“But, sire, we just finished.”
“But that was because I recalled that my father had requested my presence for our guests’ arrival, but as I have already missed that, there is no need to return to my chambers until dinner. Goodbye, Morgana,” he added, striding back the way he had come.
“But, my lord!”
Morgana watched, perplexed, as Arthur and Leon disappeared into the greenery, before Leon dashed back, gave her a hasty bow, and then scurried off after Arthur once more.
*
Gwen adjusted the basket on her hip as she made her way back the castle. After she and Caitlin, Lady Sarah’s handmaiden, with whom Gwen was sharing the task of seeing to Lady Morgana, had been dismissed from the lady’s chambers, she had reported to Cook, who had promptly sent her out of the castle. King Uther would be expecting only the finest cooking to welcome back the Le Fays, and they had run out of some of Cook’s best herbs. Gwen thought herself a reasonably good cook, and although she appreciated the value of good herbs in a meal, she also knew one could still make a tasty dinner without some. However, one did not argue with Cook, so Gwen had set about on her task without delay.
She had even located the herbs, and other things on the list she’d been given, in much less time than she’d anticipated, so although she would not call her walk back leisurely; neither did she make it hastily. Walking comfortably at her own pace, Gwen was moving through the back portion of the castle grounds, intending to go up the servant’s quarters and into the kitchens, when someone called out to her.
It struck her that not only was she being addressed by her name rather than “girl”, “child” or some such variant, but also by her full first name: Guinevere. It didn’t take her long to realise who was calling her. One glance in the direction of the sound showed her that it was coming from the same area where Prince Arthur’s special artificial lake, what she had heard some call a swimming pool, was located.
Gwen stalled. She should really take her basket back to Cook straight away, no matter how quick she had been in getting the items, but she was not supposed to ignore a summons from the prince either, was she? When he called her name again, Gwen sighed and changed her direction so she went up to the pool.
He grinned when he saw her. “Hello, Guinevere.”
“Sire.”
“How are you today?”
“Perfectly healthy, thank you. And yourself?”
“I am very well. - I have not noticed you around the castle recently. I hope you have been finding your new position alright.”
Gwen was a little surprised by that. It was true that she hadn’t seen him around the castle in the last few days, but she had thought that Arthur didn’t actually notice her when he did see her. Not that he should. He was a prince, and most princes didn’t notice the servants, except that they’d met before she got her position and he’d seemed to want to be quite talkative then. It wasn’t like it bothered her or anything; although their conversation at the lake had been somewhat strange, and more than a little amusing, she hadn’t thought anything special of it at the time. In truth, Gwen was certain she’d have mostly forgotten about it if she hadn’t happened to meet him later the same day and began to work in the same place in which he lived. It was just that royalty or not, she didn’t appreciate being treated so differently when other people were around, as to when they were not - and she certainly didn’t like not knowing whether it was Arthur’s own character or magic that made him act and speak in the ways that he did.
“It is fine, thank you for asking. Where is Sir Leon today?” she wondered, partly hoping the knight would appear out of nowhere, and cause Arthur to revert to his other self so she could leave politely.
“He did go to fetch me another change of clothes from my chambers, but I think he is trying to avoid being in my presence.”
Gwen skipped around the question of “another” and inquired after the latter half of his statement. “What makes you think that?”
“You can see part of the back courtyard from here,” Arthur pointed it out to her, “and I am sure that knight speaking to that lady there is Sir Leon.”
Gwen followed the direction his finger showed, and noted that the knight did look somewhat like Arthur’s personal guard, but from such a distance and with his back fully turned she could not say for certain. “It may be him. But perhaps he has been delayed by an inquiry of some sort, rather than intending to avoid you.”
“Well, that is no good either. I must return to my chambers rather soon if I am to be dressed for dinner in time, and my father has enough to be annoyed at me for, for one day. Leon knows I cannot leave without him, he should realise how long he is taking.”
“I have heard a man always had time for a pretty face.”
Arthur laughed. “I have heard that too. However, Leon is not the kind of man that allows any pretty face to interfere with his duty.”
“You sound quite sure of that,” Gwen noted, as she herself recalled observing in the past two weeks the knight’s dedication to his position, even when Arthur had appeared less than kind.
Arthur nodded vehemently. “I am. Merlin and I tried many things to distract Sir Leon with when we were younger; it was only when even girls would not prevent him from running after me when I was trying to flee the castle that I realised he could not be deterred.”
Gwen laughed at that, a light, bubbling sound that Arthur recalled hearing when she had fallen into the lake with him, and her wet hair had stuck to the sides of her face and on her forehead. He had liked seeing her hair like that, but Arthur decided he preferred it like this; dry and only lightly curling, and blowing about in the breeze, although in that moment he was struck with an inexplicable urge to brush a stray lock out of the way of her eyes.
Unaware of Arthur’s thoughts, Gwen grinned her answer as she glanced back at the knight that was possibly Sir Leon, who was still speaking to the young lady. “Perhaps he is in love,” she joked.
“Love?” Arthur repeated, startled, not catching on to her jest. “Well…” He had never seen anything that indicated Leon was in love with anyone, but he supposed it wasn’t impossible. “I don’t know,” Arthur said finally. “I guess I wouldn’t…I’ve never been in love,” he admitted.
Gwen smiled. “Well, no, of course not.”
Arthur was puzzled by her response, and to the unfamiliar sensation he felt at it. “Why?”
“Surely to fall in love, one must first be able to fall?”
It was meant teasingly, another sort of joke, but the easy way it fell from her lips (hesitation in his presence now erased by his familiar and welcoming demeanour) assured Arthur of its certainty, and what it meant in relation to himself.
The words lingered in his mind once she has left; while he waited for Leon to return him to his chambers, as his manservant helped him dress, and when he was alone once more, expecting Leon to escort him to dinner.
But when the door finally opened, it was someone else who entered.
“Mother! I am not late; it is not time yet,” he said quickly.
“I know, Arthur. I came to speak to you about this afternoon.”
“I am sorry about that. I did really mean to be there when they arrived, it just completely slipped my mind, and then I had to change into dry clothes. - I did see Morgana though, and already apologised to her. I will apologise to Gorlois.”
Ygraine looked at him levelly. “And you will apologise to your father?”
Arthur nodded, but his reply of, “Of course,” was too nonchalant for his mother’s liking.
“He is very displeased, Arthur.”
“It was an honest mistake. And it was not really important, anyway.”
“It is important to your father. You know how much tradition means to him.”
“Yes…and I am bad enough at that already.”
Ygraine softened at that, an acknowledgement of something Arthur usually did not notice, let alone feel. “Not bad, only careless. Besides…he would perhaps be less irritated if it had been someone else.”
“It was only Gorlois and Morgana. They have seen me plenty of times before and will do so again shortly.”
“Gorlois and Morgana are like family, Arthur, and that should make their arrival more important than others, not less so.” Ygraine’s words were sharp, but not meant to be harsh, and Arthur felt all the more chastised for it.
“I will apologise as soon as I see him.”
“He will not want to bring it up when the others are there, but if you speak to him after dinner I think that would be best.”
Arthur nodded humbly, and stood in silence as Ygraine squeezed his hand before turning to leave. She had just put her hand on the handle to open the door when Arthur called out to her. “May I ask you something?”
“Of course you may, Arthur. What is it?”
“Have you…Are you…How do you know…” he tried, and failed to express his thoughts. He felt, not for the first time in recent weeks, but certainly the most strongly, that there was a thought in his head, a feeling he held within him, that was slipping away as only lightness and air began to fill his mind.
“How do you know what, Arthur?” Ygraine prompted gently.
“What is love?”
Ygraine was not sure what she had been expecting, but it certainly hadn’t been that. She briefly wondered if this was to do with Morgana’s arrival, but she rather hoped it wasn’t for she was certain Morgana would never have feelings for him. “Love?”
“Yes…how do you know what it is? If you feel it? If you…have fallen in…it?” he said awkwardly.
“I’m not sure,” Ygraine replied slowly. “I suppose you just know.”
Ygraine worried at his question, not realising that her concern was causing her to slip into a bad habit she had stopped at the age of twelve; that of biting her lip. She considered that perhaps he had not forgiven her for withholding information about his enchantment, or if she had been too neglectful in recent years about showing her own affection. Even when his curse had made him his most irritating or trying, and she had had to take some time alone to compose herself, she had never wished to make Arthur feel he was unloved.
While part of her brain scolded her husband and his insistence that their son did not understand, let alone feel, any kind of emotion, which she had started to believe by the time he was a teenager, the other part compelled her to immediately close the short distance between them and wrap her arms around Arthur. She wondered when she had last done this, and when he had first become so much taller than her.
“Uh,” Arthur mumbled, one of his hands moving to pat her awkwardly on the shoulder.
Leaning back, Ygraine saw her son looking down at her, bewildered, and his eyes seemed to lack the uncertain knowledge they had held moments before. The more confused his expression grew, the more she understood that she had missed a moment, somehow, and it was only because she was too used to the feeling, that she was able to cover her disappointment with a smile as she moved back.
“I will see you at dinner, then.”
*
The next day Arthur didn't recall either Ygraine’s or Gwen’s words until he returned to the lake. However, they didn’t dwell on his mind after, for when he left the water he was given something else to think about. Leon was leading Arthur back to the castle when they heard a woman screaming. They watched as some of the knights led a young man to the castle courtyard. His arms were tied to stop him escaping as he was led silently into the castle, but the woman's voice rung out.
“What's going on?” Arthur wondered
“I don't know.”
“But why are they taking that man away?”
“I’m not sure,” Leon answered honestly although he could wager a guess. “Don't think about it.”
Arthur tried not to but the scene wouldn't leave his mind; especially not the cries of his innocence wailed by the older woman, while the man himself had remained curiously mute.
It was something that remained in his thoughts, all through dinner and the company noticed Arthur’s rather more sombre mood throughout the meal, although none knew quite what to make of it, and carried on their conversations as they normally did since Arthur responded as usual when they spoke to him.
Once the meal was over, Morgana rose intending to leave the table and Uther told his son that he was free to do the same, as he was long used to his son’s short attention span and the way he grew bored, and anyway there were some matters he wished to discuss with Gorlois.
Arthur nodded his assent and rose, about to follow Morgana to the doors, when suddenly he stopped himself and turned to address his father. “Who was that man in the courtyard today, father?”
“What man?”
“The man you had arrested. I assume it was you who ordered his arrest.”
Uther looked up sharply, surprised at being spoken to in such a way by his son. “Yes, of course it was me; who else would?”
“Well, I am merely asking what his crime was,”
“There have been a few unnatural deaths in the lower towns, we suspect he is the cause of them.”
“Why?”
All four people in the room turned to look at Arthur carefully at that, while Uther bristled.
“Because all the evidence we have points to him being the killer.”
“What sort of evidence?”
“Are you trying to argue with me?” Uther retorted, voice raising before Ygraine quickly put her hand on his wrist.
“No, I just want…I just want to know. I don’t really…know what goes on in Camelot. And I would like to.”
Morgana stared at Arthur’s back while the adults all exchanged glances. Nothing more surprising had been heard for quite a while and none, Uther especially, knew how to respond at first.
“I’d just like to find out what you do...”
“Alright. I will make time for you tomorrow morning,” Uther agreed.
“Thank you.”
Once a satisfied Arthur and bewildered Morgana had left the room, Uther began to fidget with his goblet and neither of his companions knew how to proceed.
Musing it was perhaps best to change the subject, Gorlois offered, “Uther, I remember you said there was a matter you wished to discuss with me.”
“Ah. Yes, indeed, there was I…” He took a sharp breath. “I am afraid it has slipped my mind at present.”
“Oh, well, it is no matter,” Gorlois altered his tack quickly. “I am sure you will remember in time. We can discuss…other things,” he faltered and looked to Ygraine imploringly.
“Indeed,” she added, “I have been wondering about the curtains we have here.”
“In here?” Gorlois repeated, looking around and finding no such curtains blocking the windows of the hall.
“In the castle,” Ygraine corrected. “We have had the same curtains all about the castle for so very long, I have been feeling that they are looking quite old so it may be best to get new ones. Perhaps you would be so good as to offer your opinion Gorlois? What do you think of the curtains in your chambers?”
Gorlois was not a man who really noticed finery or fabrics, but he would certainly play along while Uther continued to glare into his empty goblet. “I think they look…fine.” He was searching for other adjectives, when Uther interrupted.
“You may leave us!” he ordered, without looking up.
Ygraine and Gorlois looked at one another from across the table, and Ygraine began to rise. She had barely begun scraping back her chair when Uther sighed and brought his hand back down on the table to place it on hers, the action seemingly reminding him of his behaviour.
“No, not you.” He looked up at the two servants on the other side of the room and dismissed them with a wave of his hand while Ygraine settled back down.
When the three adults were really alone, Uther leaned back in his chair and wrapped the fingers of one hand against the hard wood of the table, while the other remained curved around his wife’s slender wrist.
“What can he mean by this?”
“I think he means exactly what he said,” Ygraine replied honestly.
“But after all this time!”
Although a response came readily to her lips, Ygraine was wary of uttering it. She was saved the trouble of deciding, for Gorlois reached the same conclusion. “Perhaps it is from all the time he has been spending in the water.”
“It’s not as if he has never been in water before.”
“But a few times in a bucket when he was a child and consistent bathing throughout his life does not amount to a significant amount of time.”
Uther’s jaw clenched as he considered his friend’s honest words. “He has never once shown an interest in the workings of the castle or the duties of a king - his own responsibilities as the future king of Camelot!”
Gorlois knew his friend’s temperament too well to take what he was about to say lightly, but he felt it was a statement he had to make. Leaning forward he began, “If I may…you did what you thought was right at the time in the light of Arthur’s enchantment by not allowing him outside of the castle, and no one could think wrong of you for that, but perhaps all the swimming he has been doing lately has slowly been having an effect on the curse; if not on the lightness in his body, at least the lightness of his mind. Perhaps it is allowing him to slowly…grow up.”
Silence filled the room once Gorlois had finished, and Uther tilted his head, pondering his response. “But only starting to? As if he has, what, the mental age of a teenager rather than an infant? Sometimes I do not know how to talk to him to make him understand even simple things, how can I speak to him about this?”
Gorlois’ answer to that came less easy, but he was not required to make one as Ygraine tentatively began to speak. “You always said you wanted to teach Arthur his duties, regardless of anything. That you would have him work alongside you.”
Reminded of his words from many years ago, Uther began, “Arthur was very young then, we did not truly realise the extent of the curse on his behaviour -”
Ygraine did not let him finish his excuse. “You always said Arthur would be no less our son for his enchantment.”
Uther turned to look directly at his wife, who now looked at him with conviction in her eyes, but it hid by a masked sorrow that made him falter. “And I have always tried to honour that.”
“Only tried?”
Gorlois’ eyes flickered between the king and queen and he suddenly wished he was elsewhere. However, getting up and leaving would just draw more attention to himself so he kept his head down, intending to sit through the storm of what would be another one of the couple’s heated arguments and leave at the first opportunity. They did not happen often, and as he was not a permanent resident of the castle he had been lucky enough not to have heard one for some time, but there was no mistaking the signs.
But to Gorlois’ surprise, when Ygraine scraped back her chair to stand it was not done in haste or anger, but gracefully; rising with her ever-present dignity. He looked up at her and she spared a moment to smile politely at him, the expression of reproach fading from her features, although her eyes were lined by something other than the onset of wrinkles.
“I think I will go to bed,” she said plainly, as both Gorlois and Uther belatedly got to their feet.
She was almost at the door when Uther called out, “I will be speaking to Arthur about the duties of a king in the morning.”
Her hand stilled on the handle, and she looked over her shoulder at him before speaking plainly, “I should hope so. He is expecting it.”
Part Six
Part Five
Gwen smoothed down her apron as she walked nimbly through the castle corridors. She had only been in her new position for just over two weeks now and the castle still seemed to have lots of hidden secrets, but she was confident she knew her way around it well enough for what her tasks usually entailed. She was slightly less certain, but still quite positive, that despite her inexperience she was performing those tasks to a competent, if not good, degree. At the very least, Marie said that Cook had taken a liking to her and she had been given the additional duty of acting as one of two handmaidens to their impending visitor Lady Morgana, and Gwen did not think they would have done so if they thought badly of her.
The Lord Gorlois Le Fey and his daughter Morgana were expected in less than an hour, and although Gwen and some of the other girls had finished preparing their rooms, she would be needed in the kitchen soon to start making the dinner. However, she thought she had just enough time to squeeze in a visit she meant to have paid a long time ago. Her father had told her much of Gaius, the benevolent court physician, who had even tended to Gwen’s mother but been unable to heal her from the illness that had taken her life. When she had set off from their humble home for the castle in search of employment now that the forge was not doing well enough to support them both, her father had made her promise she would seek out the physician whether she was given a post or not, as Tom valued him highly. Gwen had intended to visit him when she’d first started, but she’d been kept so busy she hadn’t a chance to - and she’d learnt from Merlin that except for doing his work he didn’t stir from his chambers unless it was a special request from the king so she was reasonably sure she hadn’t passed him by unrecognised in the hallways - but now that she had at least half an hour before she had to be back at the kitchen she thought she would try her luck.
She’d listened closely when Merlin had given her the directions, and was reasonably sure she was at the right place when she knocked on the door. There was no answer, but the door was not closed fully so she ventured to open it further and see if the man was present and simply hadn’t heard her, but she met with someone else.
“Oh my!”
Merlin was the person she had spoken to the most since she started work, as not only did many of their duties overlap, he was quite friendly too, and knowing him relatively well by now including that he was Gaius’ ward, she was not at all surprised to find him in the physician’s chambers.
She was, however, surprised by the sight of the floating objects around his head being scrubbed by rags all seemingly moving of their own accord.
“Gwen!” he exclaimed, and at his cry a few of the objects fell to the ground.
Gwen’s eyes widened as she watched the remaining items hover in the air, some of the rags moving in a circular pattern but rubbing only at the air. “That’s…you…” she stumbled, and Merlin quickly turned around and grabbed at the items in the air to put them back down.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, hopelessly failing at his attempt to keep his voice neutral.
“I…I was looking for Gaius. I didn’t mean to intrude - the door wasn’t closed properly, so I thought…You can do magic,” she said suddenly.
“Everyone knows that,” he replied hastily.
Gwen nodded, but shook her head a moment later. “Yes, I was told - but they said you could only make shapes; patterns in the smoke…or something like that. That,” she pointed at the objects he was stacking on top of each other on the table, “was proper magic.”
“No, no,” Merlin shook his head, “not proper magic. Just another little thing I can do. People just don’t mention it because it’s not as amusing as making shapes out of smoke. That’s a real trick,” he said vehemently. He smiled at her, but she could see the tremors he tried to hide.
“I won’t tell if that’s what you are worried about.”
Merlin eyed her warily. He liked Gwen a lot, and they got on very well, but it was still so early in their acquaintance he would have hesitated before calling her a friend. Still, he didn’t have much of a choice but to simply accept her words…and maybe finally tell Gaius that he had figured out to do a few more things with his powers. “Okay.”
“I suppose Gaius isn’t here then?”
“He’s visiting some of his patients in the town. You’re not unwell are you?”
“No, I just wanted to say hello.”
“Oh, yes,” Merlin remembered, “you mentioned that…was it your father, who knew him?”
“Yes, he asked me to visit him.”
“How long ago was that? I don’t think Gaius has left Camelot since he brought me here.”
“It was when I was a little girl; we used to live in Camelot. My father was a blacksmith here.”
“Before Alistair, the royal backsmith?”
“At the same time actually. That’s why we had to leave; there wasn’t enough work for them both. My father learned that King Alined was lacking blacksmiths so we moved.”
“If you were living in Alined’s kingdom why did you come to Camelot in search of work here?” Merlin inquired, glad they were moving the subject along.
“Because my father is making less than he used to and I could not find any work there. One of my cousins lives in Camelot so I am staying with her and her family.”
“That was lucky then, you found work here.”
Gwen paused. “Well, actually…it was not luck.”
“How do you mean?” he wondered.
“About a year before we moved away the King promised my father he would be rewarded for services he had rendered Camelot and would be helped in any way possible. He left that promise in writing, and it was that writing that I knew would secure me a position in the castle.”
“Wow, what did your father do for Camelot?”
Gwen laughed, but without much humour. “He happened to have a chimney in the right place at the right time.”
“A chimney?” Merlin repeated.
“Prince Arthur floated out of the castle once when he was very young and they could not reach him until he ended up on the chimney at my father’s forge.”
Merlin roared with laughter. “I’ve heard a lot of stories about Arthur flying away somewhere - been involved with a few too many to be honest - but they never get old.”
“I have heard…you two are…friends?” she asked, curiously.
“Yeah.” At her look he added, “I know I’m a servant but -”
“No, it’s not that.” Gwen shrugged. “He just seems…odd. I think he must be a strange person to be friends with.”
“He is a little I suppose. The thing about Arthur is that he can’t really escape from the enchantment.”
Gwen nodded. “It must have been somewhat bizarre for you to have had a friend who was getting blown away,” she said, and laughed lightly.
Merlin laughed too, but countered, “It was a little, but then I grew up with it so, weirdly, I got used to it. But that’s not the only way the enchantment affected him, you know?”
“It’s not?” Gwen wondered.
Merlin shook his head. “No. - I thought everyone knew about the spell.”
“Everyone knows Camelot’s prince cannot balance in high winds…I do not know if everyone knows anything more. I don’t, and I was told not to mention it.”
“Yeah, it’s a bit of a touchy subject sometimes. But the gist is that the spell didn’t just affect his physical balance, but his mind too.”
“You make him sound unstable.”
Merlin chuckled. “No, not unstable. You see Arthur was enchanted to have both lightness of body and spirit. So he could never take anything seriously; he only wanted to do things that were fun or silly, everything was entertaining. And when we were children, I enjoyed that,” Merlin admitted. “It was nice to have a friend I could have fun with after doing all my duties, even if we got into trouble for it more times than not. But, as we grew up…Arthur didn’t really grow up with me, you know?” When Gwen nodded, Merlin continued, “To be honest, that’s kind of one of the reasons I like talking to you. Not that you’re not nice for your sake,” he added hastily, “it’s just…it is nice to have someone my own age who I can talk to who can talk about important things normally, and not just when they’re in water.”
Gwen was perfectly ready to tell Merlin she understood what he was trying to say, until he finished his sentence. “Water?”
“Yeah. You know how Arthur goes swimming all the time.”
She nodded; she did know. “But I thought that was because he could not be blown away while in it.”
“He can’t; but it also helps him clear his head; restores that part of what the spell took from him as well.” Things started to fall into place in Gwen’s mind when Merlin added, “You know, it’s funny, I’ve actually started to notice something different about Arthur.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, sometimes it’s like the water has an effect on him that lasts even when he comes out of it. - Not hugely, and only at certain times, mind, but on occasion, even when he’s completely dry, it’s like…he’s completely normal.”
“That is odd.”
“Hmm. Maybe if he swims for long enough Arthur will reverse the spell,” Merlin joked.
“Maybe,” Gwen said, with a smile.
The conversation had already progressed to an end when they heard the lowering of the drawbridge, signalling visitors.
“Oh! Do you think that is our guests?”
“Probably,” Merlin guessed. “They do arrive early sometimes.”
“Oh dear, I am supposed to be waiting outside the Lady Morgana’s chambers for when she arrives.”
Merlin smiled. “Oh, don’t worry, Morgana won’t mind if you’re a little late.”
“I suppose she is a friend of yours too, Merlin?”
He shrugged. “We did spend a lot of time together when we were children and she would visit the castle more often than she and her father do now. But I don’t know that I would say we were friends. - She was always making fun of my magical skills,” he pointed out, at first as a joke, but then remembered what Gwen had witnessed and grew quiet.
“Truly, Merlin I promise I will not tell.”
“Okay. Thanks.” He nodded, and although he was still a little wary, for some reason Merlin felt he trusted her.
*
Morgana looked dubiously at her father before glancing back between the king and the queen. In the past she’d heard numerous excuses to explain away Arthur’s lateness or absence, but the one King Uther had just uttered when apologising for Arthur’s nonappearance at their arrival, had to be the strangest. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
Uther sighed deeply. “Arthur is swimming, I’m afraid. I told him when he had to be ready to greet you both, but it would seem he has lost track of time.”
“It happens sometimes when he goes swimming,” Ygraine added, apologetically.
“Indeed,” Uther affirmed. “Even now we have built him a private lake right behind the castle; sometimes he seems to be out more than he is inside.”
Gorlois assured his friends that he and Morgana did not feel slighted in the least and was sure it was most necessary for Arthur to be occupied as he presently was; and would be just as happy to see him later, at a time more appropriate to the prince. Gorlois looked to his daughter to add to his remarks, but her gaze remained straight on.
“Arthur’s swimming,” she rolled the sounds off her tongue slowly.
“Arthur regains his balance when he swims,” Ygraine explained.
Morgana, uncertain, flitted her eyes back to her father, but Gorlois’ hard-set expression reminded her equally that they were in company now - the company of two people who are not only among the most powerful in all of Albion, but also his oldest friends. She was in more than just ordinary society; she had to be more than just merely polite.
“That’s wonderful,” she said with a grin. “Is he cured, then?”
Ygraine paused before answering, “Actually, no, the effects are reversed when he is out of the water and dry once more, but we do have reason to hope that perhaps…after some time the swimming will have a longer lasting effect.”
Morgana pretended that she didn’t see the corners of Uther’s mouth twitch, as she replied to Ygraine, keeping the smile on her face. “Well, I hope very much that that will be the case.”
Ygraine smiled back graciously, and Morgana was pleased that even her father seemed to have thought her genuine. She kept up her pleasant demeanour as they were taken into the castle and shown to their regular quarters. Morgana greeted the two girls assigned to seeing to her needs agreeably - she didn’t recognise either from previous visits but both seemed nice albeit quiet - but she dismissed them almost as soon as she could, and made her own way back through the castle.
Morgana had grown used to being by herself when she was very young. By the time she was ten her father decided it was time for him to stop wandering about forests and mountain ranges and live properly in one house again. Uther had been quite eager for them returning to Camelot, but both Gorlois and Morgana had grown fond of a particular forest range that ran through King Olaf’s land; and Olaf was only too keen for them to live under his roof, and for Morgana to be a companion to Vivian. Princess Vivian had grown up slightly more annoying than she was when they were children, but she was not always intolerable to be around. Furthermore, Morgana enjoyed her father’s company, which she had often, and that of her own handmaiden, but she still enjoyed stealing away to her forest most and, when she was able, going as far as the moors.
It was not that she did not like Camelot, but one had to go quite far into it to find the kind of lush, dense forestry she had grown used to seeing as a child, and they did not get the chance to go out of the castle, let alone the town, very often. But she did enjoy the castle gardens, and made her way to them deftly, intending to enjoy at least an hour’s peace there before she would be expected to return to her chambers and dress for dinner.
She had just reached the gardens, and begun taking the familiar path to her old favourite bench when she heard two men speaking. Used to being alone in this part of the castle - the only people she had ever encountered here in her many visits were the gardener, the occasional servant and, once, the queen - Morgana was surprised by the sounds, and changed her direction to follow the voices.
“Careful, sire!” one of them called out, causing her to smile.
She definitely recognised that voice; poor, put-upon Sir Leon, which, of course, meant he was running after Arthur. She didn’t have to walk much further up before she saw them coming around one of the hedges. Arthur was adjusting the collar of his tunic as he walked, while Leon came up behind him, one hand full of wet clothing, the other a towel.
“Just a minute, sire,” Leon said again, and now that he was just behind Arthur put the towel on his head and started rubbing it.
“I am dry enough, Leon!” Arthur protested, his face only half visible now it was covered in the green towel.
“Not to greet the Lord Gorlois and his daughter,” Leon argued.
“I’m afraid you are a little too late for that,” Morgana spoke up, alerting the men to her presence.
Leon looked up sharply at her words, then dropped his hand from Arthur’s head before bowing with the clothes still clenched in his other. “My lady.”
“Morgana,” Arthur said, using one of his hands to move the towel and finish lazily drying his hair. “I thought you weren’t due to arrive just yet.”
“We arrived a good half an hour ago, actually.”
“Oh. I am sorry I was not there to meet you and your father.”
“It is fine. Your father explained you were probably… doing something more important.”
She noticed Arthur had the good grace to look somewhat sheepish. “I lost track of time. I am very sorry. I hope you are in good health though, and Gorlois too.”
Morgana was startled by the remark. She’d known Arthur all his life, and most of hers, and was absolutely certain she’d never once heard him enquire as to how anyone else was feeling, not to mention so courteously. “Thank you, I am well,” she responded, eyeing him suspiciously as he continued to dab at his hair.
Arthur removed the towel then, ran his other hand through his hair, and on determining it to be dry tossed the towel over his shoulder without looking for Leon to catch. That was the Prince Arthur she knew.
Thoroughly confused, Morgana turned the conversation. “Ygraine said that your swimming helps with your balance.”
“Yes. I like swimming very much. - Actually,” he remembered suddenly, “it is not time for dinner yet, is it?”
“No, not for some time,” Morgana stated.
“Well, then, Leon, let’s get back,” Arthur remarked, and turned around to lead the way.
“But, sire, we just finished.”
“But that was because I recalled that my father had requested my presence for our guests’ arrival, but as I have already missed that, there is no need to return to my chambers until dinner. Goodbye, Morgana,” he added, striding back the way he had come.
“But, my lord!”
Morgana watched, perplexed, as Arthur and Leon disappeared into the greenery, before Leon dashed back, gave her a hasty bow, and then scurried off after Arthur once more.
*
Gwen adjusted the basket on her hip as she made her way back the castle. After she and Caitlin, Lady Sarah’s handmaiden, with whom Gwen was sharing the task of seeing to Lady Morgana, had been dismissed from the lady’s chambers, she had reported to Cook, who had promptly sent her out of the castle. King Uther would be expecting only the finest cooking to welcome back the Le Fays, and they had run out of some of Cook’s best herbs. Gwen thought herself a reasonably good cook, and although she appreciated the value of good herbs in a meal, she also knew one could still make a tasty dinner without some. However, one did not argue with Cook, so Gwen had set about on her task without delay.
She had even located the herbs, and other things on the list she’d been given, in much less time than she’d anticipated, so although she would not call her walk back leisurely; neither did she make it hastily. Walking comfortably at her own pace, Gwen was moving through the back portion of the castle grounds, intending to go up the servant’s quarters and into the kitchens, when someone called out to her.
It struck her that not only was she being addressed by her name rather than “girl”, “child” or some such variant, but also by her full first name: Guinevere. It didn’t take her long to realise who was calling her. One glance in the direction of the sound showed her that it was coming from the same area where Prince Arthur’s special artificial lake, what she had heard some call a swimming pool, was located.
Gwen stalled. She should really take her basket back to Cook straight away, no matter how quick she had been in getting the items, but she was not supposed to ignore a summons from the prince either, was she? When he called her name again, Gwen sighed and changed her direction so she went up to the pool.
He grinned when he saw her. “Hello, Guinevere.”
“Sire.”
“How are you today?”
“Perfectly healthy, thank you. And yourself?”
“I am very well. - I have not noticed you around the castle recently. I hope you have been finding your new position alright.”
Gwen was a little surprised by that. It was true that she hadn’t seen him around the castle in the last few days, but she had thought that Arthur didn’t actually notice her when he did see her. Not that he should. He was a prince, and most princes didn’t notice the servants, except that they’d met before she got her position and he’d seemed to want to be quite talkative then. It wasn’t like it bothered her or anything; although their conversation at the lake had been somewhat strange, and more than a little amusing, she hadn’t thought anything special of it at the time. In truth, Gwen was certain she’d have mostly forgotten about it if she hadn’t happened to meet him later the same day and began to work in the same place in which he lived. It was just that royalty or not, she didn’t appreciate being treated so differently when other people were around, as to when they were not - and she certainly didn’t like not knowing whether it was Arthur’s own character or magic that made him act and speak in the ways that he did.
“It is fine, thank you for asking. Where is Sir Leon today?” she wondered, partly hoping the knight would appear out of nowhere, and cause Arthur to revert to his other self so she could leave politely.
“He did go to fetch me another change of clothes from my chambers, but I think he is trying to avoid being in my presence.”
Gwen skipped around the question of “another” and inquired after the latter half of his statement. “What makes you think that?”
“You can see part of the back courtyard from here,” Arthur pointed it out to her, “and I am sure that knight speaking to that lady there is Sir Leon.”
Gwen followed the direction his finger showed, and noted that the knight did look somewhat like Arthur’s personal guard, but from such a distance and with his back fully turned she could not say for certain. “It may be him. But perhaps he has been delayed by an inquiry of some sort, rather than intending to avoid you.”
“Well, that is no good either. I must return to my chambers rather soon if I am to be dressed for dinner in time, and my father has enough to be annoyed at me for, for one day. Leon knows I cannot leave without him, he should realise how long he is taking.”
“I have heard a man always had time for a pretty face.”
Arthur laughed. “I have heard that too. However, Leon is not the kind of man that allows any pretty face to interfere with his duty.”
“You sound quite sure of that,” Gwen noted, as she herself recalled observing in the past two weeks the knight’s dedication to his position, even when Arthur had appeared less than kind.
Arthur nodded vehemently. “I am. Merlin and I tried many things to distract Sir Leon with when we were younger; it was only when even girls would not prevent him from running after me when I was trying to flee the castle that I realised he could not be deterred.”
Gwen laughed at that, a light, bubbling sound that Arthur recalled hearing when she had fallen into the lake with him, and her wet hair had stuck to the sides of her face and on her forehead. He had liked seeing her hair like that, but Arthur decided he preferred it like this; dry and only lightly curling, and blowing about in the breeze, although in that moment he was struck with an inexplicable urge to brush a stray lock out of the way of her eyes.
Unaware of Arthur’s thoughts, Gwen grinned her answer as she glanced back at the knight that was possibly Sir Leon, who was still speaking to the young lady. “Perhaps he is in love,” she joked.
“Love?” Arthur repeated, startled, not catching on to her jest. “Well…” He had never seen anything that indicated Leon was in love with anyone, but he supposed it wasn’t impossible. “I don’t know,” Arthur said finally. “I guess I wouldn’t…I’ve never been in love,” he admitted.
Gwen smiled. “Well, no, of course not.”
Arthur was puzzled by her response, and to the unfamiliar sensation he felt at it. “Why?”
“Surely to fall in love, one must first be able to fall?”
It was meant teasingly, another sort of joke, but the easy way it fell from her lips (hesitation in his presence now erased by his familiar and welcoming demeanour) assured Arthur of its certainty, and what it meant in relation to himself.
The words lingered in his mind once she has left; while he waited for Leon to return him to his chambers, as his manservant helped him dress, and when he was alone once more, expecting Leon to escort him to dinner.
But when the door finally opened, it was someone else who entered.
“Mother! I am not late; it is not time yet,” he said quickly.
“I know, Arthur. I came to speak to you about this afternoon.”
“I am sorry about that. I did really mean to be there when they arrived, it just completely slipped my mind, and then I had to change into dry clothes. - I did see Morgana though, and already apologised to her. I will apologise to Gorlois.”
Ygraine looked at him levelly. “And you will apologise to your father?”
Arthur nodded, but his reply of, “Of course,” was too nonchalant for his mother’s liking.
“He is very displeased, Arthur.”
“It was an honest mistake. And it was not really important, anyway.”
“It is important to your father. You know how much tradition means to him.”
“Yes…and I am bad enough at that already.”
Ygraine softened at that, an acknowledgement of something Arthur usually did not notice, let alone feel. “Not bad, only careless. Besides…he would perhaps be less irritated if it had been someone else.”
“It was only Gorlois and Morgana. They have seen me plenty of times before and will do so again shortly.”
“Gorlois and Morgana are like family, Arthur, and that should make their arrival more important than others, not less so.” Ygraine’s words were sharp, but not meant to be harsh, and Arthur felt all the more chastised for it.
“I will apologise as soon as I see him.”
“He will not want to bring it up when the others are there, but if you speak to him after dinner I think that would be best.”
Arthur nodded humbly, and stood in silence as Ygraine squeezed his hand before turning to leave. She had just put her hand on the handle to open the door when Arthur called out to her. “May I ask you something?”
“Of course you may, Arthur. What is it?”
“Have you…Are you…How do you know…” he tried, and failed to express his thoughts. He felt, not for the first time in recent weeks, but certainly the most strongly, that there was a thought in his head, a feeling he held within him, that was slipping away as only lightness and air began to fill his mind.
“How do you know what, Arthur?” Ygraine prompted gently.
“What is love?”
Ygraine was not sure what she had been expecting, but it certainly hadn’t been that. She briefly wondered if this was to do with Morgana’s arrival, but she rather hoped it wasn’t for she was certain Morgana would never have feelings for him. “Love?”
“Yes…how do you know what it is? If you feel it? If you…have fallen in…it?” he said awkwardly.
“I’m not sure,” Ygraine replied slowly. “I suppose you just know.”
Ygraine worried at his question, not realising that her concern was causing her to slip into a bad habit she had stopped at the age of twelve; that of biting her lip. She considered that perhaps he had not forgiven her for withholding information about his enchantment, or if she had been too neglectful in recent years about showing her own affection. Even when his curse had made him his most irritating or trying, and she had had to take some time alone to compose herself, she had never wished to make Arthur feel he was unloved.
While part of her brain scolded her husband and his insistence that their son did not understand, let alone feel, any kind of emotion, which she had started to believe by the time he was a teenager, the other part compelled her to immediately close the short distance between them and wrap her arms around Arthur. She wondered when she had last done this, and when he had first become so much taller than her.
“Uh,” Arthur mumbled, one of his hands moving to pat her awkwardly on the shoulder.
Leaning back, Ygraine saw her son looking down at her, bewildered, and his eyes seemed to lack the uncertain knowledge they had held moments before. The more confused his expression grew, the more she understood that she had missed a moment, somehow, and it was only because she was too used to the feeling, that she was able to cover her disappointment with a smile as she moved back.
“I will see you at dinner, then.”
*
The next day Arthur didn't recall either Ygraine’s or Gwen’s words until he returned to the lake. However, they didn’t dwell on his mind after, for when he left the water he was given something else to think about. Leon was leading Arthur back to the castle when they heard a woman screaming. They watched as some of the knights led a young man to the castle courtyard. His arms were tied to stop him escaping as he was led silently into the castle, but the woman's voice rung out.
“What's going on?” Arthur wondered
“I don't know.”
“But why are they taking that man away?”
“I’m not sure,” Leon answered honestly although he could wager a guess. “Don't think about it.”
Arthur tried not to but the scene wouldn't leave his mind; especially not the cries of his innocence wailed by the older woman, while the man himself had remained curiously mute.
It was something that remained in his thoughts, all through dinner and the company noticed Arthur’s rather more sombre mood throughout the meal, although none knew quite what to make of it, and carried on their conversations as they normally did since Arthur responded as usual when they spoke to him.
Once the meal was over, Morgana rose intending to leave the table and Uther told his son that he was free to do the same, as he was long used to his son’s short attention span and the way he grew bored, and anyway there were some matters he wished to discuss with Gorlois.
Arthur nodded his assent and rose, about to follow Morgana to the doors, when suddenly he stopped himself and turned to address his father. “Who was that man in the courtyard today, father?”
“What man?”
“The man you had arrested. I assume it was you who ordered his arrest.”
Uther looked up sharply, surprised at being spoken to in such a way by his son. “Yes, of course it was me; who else would?”
“Well, I am merely asking what his crime was,”
“There have been a few unnatural deaths in the lower towns, we suspect he is the cause of them.”
“Why?”
All four people in the room turned to look at Arthur carefully at that, while Uther bristled.
“Because all the evidence we have points to him being the killer.”
“What sort of evidence?”
“Are you trying to argue with me?” Uther retorted, voice raising before Ygraine quickly put her hand on his wrist.
“No, I just want…I just want to know. I don’t really…know what goes on in Camelot. And I would like to.”
Morgana stared at Arthur’s back while the adults all exchanged glances. Nothing more surprising had been heard for quite a while and none, Uther especially, knew how to respond at first.
“I’d just like to find out what you do...”
“Alright. I will make time for you tomorrow morning,” Uther agreed.
“Thank you.”
Once a satisfied Arthur and bewildered Morgana had left the room, Uther began to fidget with his goblet and neither of his companions knew how to proceed.
Musing it was perhaps best to change the subject, Gorlois offered, “Uther, I remember you said there was a matter you wished to discuss with me.”
“Ah. Yes, indeed, there was I…” He took a sharp breath. “I am afraid it has slipped my mind at present.”
“Oh, well, it is no matter,” Gorlois altered his tack quickly. “I am sure you will remember in time. We can discuss…other things,” he faltered and looked to Ygraine imploringly.
“Indeed,” she added, “I have been wondering about the curtains we have here.”
“In here?” Gorlois repeated, looking around and finding no such curtains blocking the windows of the hall.
“In the castle,” Ygraine corrected. “We have had the same curtains all about the castle for so very long, I have been feeling that they are looking quite old so it may be best to get new ones. Perhaps you would be so good as to offer your opinion Gorlois? What do you think of the curtains in your chambers?”
Gorlois was not a man who really noticed finery or fabrics, but he would certainly play along while Uther continued to glare into his empty goblet. “I think they look…fine.” He was searching for other adjectives, when Uther interrupted.
“You may leave us!” he ordered, without looking up.
Ygraine and Gorlois looked at one another from across the table, and Ygraine began to rise. She had barely begun scraping back her chair when Uther sighed and brought his hand back down on the table to place it on hers, the action seemingly reminding him of his behaviour.
“No, not you.” He looked up at the two servants on the other side of the room and dismissed them with a wave of his hand while Ygraine settled back down.
When the three adults were really alone, Uther leaned back in his chair and wrapped the fingers of one hand against the hard wood of the table, while the other remained curved around his wife’s slender wrist.
“What can he mean by this?”
“I think he means exactly what he said,” Ygraine replied honestly.
“But after all this time!”
Although a response came readily to her lips, Ygraine was wary of uttering it. She was saved the trouble of deciding, for Gorlois reached the same conclusion. “Perhaps it is from all the time he has been spending in the water.”
“It’s not as if he has never been in water before.”
“But a few times in a bucket when he was a child and consistent bathing throughout his life does not amount to a significant amount of time.”
Uther’s jaw clenched as he considered his friend’s honest words. “He has never once shown an interest in the workings of the castle or the duties of a king - his own responsibilities as the future king of Camelot!”
Gorlois knew his friend’s temperament too well to take what he was about to say lightly, but he felt it was a statement he had to make. Leaning forward he began, “If I may…you did what you thought was right at the time in the light of Arthur’s enchantment by not allowing him outside of the castle, and no one could think wrong of you for that, but perhaps all the swimming he has been doing lately has slowly been having an effect on the curse; if not on the lightness in his body, at least the lightness of his mind. Perhaps it is allowing him to slowly…grow up.”
Silence filled the room once Gorlois had finished, and Uther tilted his head, pondering his response. “But only starting to? As if he has, what, the mental age of a teenager rather than an infant? Sometimes I do not know how to talk to him to make him understand even simple things, how can I speak to him about this?”
Gorlois’ answer to that came less easy, but he was not required to make one as Ygraine tentatively began to speak. “You always said you wanted to teach Arthur his duties, regardless of anything. That you would have him work alongside you.”
Reminded of his words from many years ago, Uther began, “Arthur was very young then, we did not truly realise the extent of the curse on his behaviour -”
Ygraine did not let him finish his excuse. “You always said Arthur would be no less our son for his enchantment.”
Uther turned to look directly at his wife, who now looked at him with conviction in her eyes, but it hid by a masked sorrow that made him falter. “And I have always tried to honour that.”
“Only tried?”
Gorlois’ eyes flickered between the king and queen and he suddenly wished he was elsewhere. However, getting up and leaving would just draw more attention to himself so he kept his head down, intending to sit through the storm of what would be another one of the couple’s heated arguments and leave at the first opportunity. They did not happen often, and as he was not a permanent resident of the castle he had been lucky enough not to have heard one for some time, but there was no mistaking the signs.
But to Gorlois’ surprise, when Ygraine scraped back her chair to stand it was not done in haste or anger, but gracefully; rising with her ever-present dignity. He looked up at her and she spared a moment to smile politely at him, the expression of reproach fading from her features, although her eyes were lined by something other than the onset of wrinkles.
“I think I will go to bed,” she said plainly, as both Gorlois and Uther belatedly got to their feet.
She was almost at the door when Uther called out, “I will be speaking to Arthur about the duties of a king in the morning.”
Her hand stilled on the handle, and she looked over her shoulder at him before speaking plainly, “I should hope so. He is expecting it.”
Part Six