As Gwen turned from Morgana's embrace a wave of despair threatened to overwhelm her. She jutted out her chin in a determined manner and blinked furiously. She would not allow her mistress to see her distress.
"I'll need you later, Gwen, to help me dress. I think the silver dress tonight, don't you?"
Gwen pretended to busy herself at the table, but nodded her head to show she understood. Morgana scrutinised her maid's back for a moment and then, smiling to herself, murmured, "until then..." and left the room.
Gwen turned hesitantly to see her mistress's skirts sweep down the corridor and round onto the staircase.
At last.
Alone.
Now the tears came in that cold chamber. Once a place of laughter and shared girlish secrets, it had become a forbidding and friendless prison. Guinevere was no fool – she had known for months now that she could no longer trust the woman she once counted as her closest friend. Every time she thought she'd come to terms with Morgana's decision, there would be another occasion where Morgana would inadvertently show her true colours and Gwen would find herself fighting another wave of grief for their friendship. She missed her old friend so much. Today's events were too much to take in. Was it really possible that the Morgana she knew could be so cruel?
She stared out of the window into the blackness. It seemed even darker to Guinevere as she wildly searched the night, looking for she knew not what. All she could see were thousands of blazing torches as Cenred's army overwhelmed her beloved Camelot. The flames were beyond her power to count, the columns of men seemed never ending. As she watched, the torch lights glimmered and swam as the tears overflowed and fell down her cheeks. She reached out a hand to touch the window glass gently with her fingertips. Where was he? Could she hope that he was still alive, despite the evidence of her own eyes? She rubbed her hand hastily over her eyes, to see better, and leant closer to the glass. The rhythm of the marching army was incessant and was making the very walls of the castle shudder. From her vantage point she could see that the army was in the lower town already.
Gwen opened the window enough to lean out and crane her neck to better see the extent of the enemy army. It was impossible to see her little house from this window, she would need to look from the other side of the tower for that particular view. She hoped desperately that Elyan had used his natural ability to get out of trouble to effect a miraculous escape from the city and that her little sanctuary was humble enough to have been overlooked by the marauders. It would be too cruel to lose Elyan again so suddenly, when they had only just found one another again. But she could only dwell on that thought for so long before her anxiety for Arthur consumed her again. And Merlin, too – she prayed that they were together, wherever they were, but she had no idea where they had gone. Arthur had come to see her briefly before they set out.
His parting words had been simple. "Do you trust me, Guinevere?"
"Always," she had replied, looking confidently into his eyes.
"Then, do not fear for me. Merlin and I will be back before you know it, I promise."
A brief kiss and a touch of foreheads was all he allowed himself before he disappeared. There had been no word for four days and the unfolding events that Gwen had witnessed during that time in the citadel had made her fear the worst. Her heart cried out for Arthur and Merlin to come home.
She sat on the edge of Morgana's bed, using her sleeve to dry her face, gently. What was she to do now? Her next step all depended on whether she still had hope for Arthur or not. She had been careful to show loyalty to Morgana, an act which had made her feel physically sick, and she was fairly sure that she had done a convincing job. But supposing Arthur was dead? She clutched her stomach and sucked in her breath sharply. NO... it was too hard, impossible to imagine the world without him in it. She needed him and so did Camelot. She pulled herself up to standing using the bedpost. No, her job was not to give in to despair but to hold him to his promise. Arthur had told her that he would return – she would remain faithful whatever it cost.
Whatever it cost.
It was then she realised that from this moment onwards there was no turning back. She could, and probably would, meet her death at Morgana's hand for this treachery, but she considered herself bound to Arthur by word, by deed and by love. She would rather die striving to find Arthur and restore him to his rightful place, than have him know that she had given up on him.
Her path was set. Gwen would wear the mask of loyalty and affection towards her new Queen and convince all in the Palace that whatever had existed between her and Arthur was just an enchantment, as she and Arthur had agreed. It was her turn to become the traitor in the camp and follow the exemplary example of deceit set by her own mistress over the past year. She would take every opportunity to find out whether Arthur was alive or not, and to undermine the treacherous new rule of Queen Morgana.
But first she needed to find out who her friends were. First stop, Sir Leon.