I wondered sometimes why I never dared to ask Juliana why she was so reserved, so wrapped up in music that she did not seem to care for anything else. Perhaps because she was my friend, and it would have been a disrespectful thing to do, in case she was sensitive about it. Perhaps because I partly knew the answer already – she disliked the real world, as good a reason as any for escaping when she could to the glorious world of music. I never questioned her on the matter, but one day the conversation came round to friends and family, and I rather foolishly asked her if she had family anywhere, assuming her to be like Merlin and me – to have a parent or parents in some village whilst she earned her living far away.
'I had an adoptive father,' she said, 'but... His name was Auderic. He was the previous Court Musician and he took me on, as his protégée and as his daughter... He was killed, Ganieda, killed in battle, fighting for Camelot, against some group led by a sorcerer rebelling against King Uther.'
'My God!' I could not help myself. 'I'm sorry...'
'It was long ago...' A brave smile came onto her face. 'I loved him... I love him. Like a father, I mean. Perhaps one day I'll see him again. But until then I have music.'
I felt awkward sitting there whilst she poured out this tragic tale rather matter-of-factly. I had been planning on giving an account of my own adoptive family, but I could hardly speak, at last daring to ask, 'You have never loved another?'
'Other than Father and music?' Juliana smiled vaguely. 'My harp, perhaps...' and with a chuckle she plucked a couple of the strings. 'But if you mean loved a man – I don't think I could.'
'A lot of men fancy you,' I said, trying to swing the conversation round to something more cheerful, more normal perhaps.
And a flickering grin lit up her eyes then. 'I know, they do, don't they?' She did not attempt to be modest. 'Your brother did at one point.'
I stared, and then laughed. 'Really?'
'When he first came to Camelot. But he fancied pretty much everyone then – me, Gwen, Morgana, Philippa in the –'
'He fancied Morgana?' I cut in.
'Before she went evil, of course! But who didn't? She was the envy of every man in the place.'
So Merlin had liked Morgana, the one I hated the most in the world... Suddenly my liking for Mordred didn't seem quite so much like treason.
We were silent for a few seconds. And then Juliana said, 'Is this about Mordred?'
I started. 'What – what do you mean?'
'Ganieda... It's probably clear that I can't tell you all that much about love, except that to lose someone you love through any means is the most terrible thing in the world, and you should try to prevent it wherever possible. Mordred likes you and you like him. As far as I can see that makes for a pretty good relationship. Don't let him drift away.' She lifted her eyes to meet mine. 'You do realise you're quite the envy of quite a few women?'
'I'm what?'
'Handsome young man comes to Camelot and has eyes only for another newcomer, and the sister of a servant at that... Oh, yes, there are some very jealous women around the place. Heavens, Ganieda, all of Camelot knows about you and Mordred – except, it seems, for you and possibly Mordred.'
'Knows what about me and Mordred?' I asked, my voice becoming sharp and a little cutting.
'Is it not obvious? Ganieda, he –'
' – loves me,' I finished, my cheeks burning, avoiding the musician's twinkling gaze. 'Mordred loves me.'
Juliana, it seemed, was struck by the dull and flat way in which I said this, and the expression that I apparently showed then, because she could not reply, instead looking a little guilty and turning her attention to her harp. But still she was watching me from beneath the hair that fell over her face, still she had her ear turned towards me as if listening to my thoughts.
'Very well – I'll say it,' I said at last. 'Mordred is a good and honourable man – a knight of Camelot – he loves me...' My voice somehow stuck in my throat. 'I should not be ashamed to admit that I love him – Juliana, I love Mordred.'
Now she beamed, looking back up at me, her smile lighting up the whole room, so immensely gladdened was she by my words. I had never seen her so happy except when she was in the heart of a passionate piece of music.
'Now you must tell him that.'
I drew a breath. 'I... I can't... I should not be ashamed to admit it, but I am... Juliana, why don't I want to love him?'
I very nearly broke down in tears, but I restrained myself, biting my lip so hard that it nearly bled.
'You do, Ganieda. It's Merlin who doesn't want you to love Mordred. I know Merlin well enough to know that it is very hard to sway his first impressions about people. Thank heavens that trait does not show in you... You have forgiven Mordred, you have overcome all of your fears, and that is so admirable... You should go to him – go now, if you like, the knights will just be coming up from the practice-field...' A glance out of the window told me that this was correct. 'Ganieda – don't let what Merlin says bother you. He loved Morgana once, remember.'
And it was this final statement that made me jump up and, with only a brief farewell to Juliana, run from the room in search of Mordred.
He was in his room when I found him at last, beating the dust out of his cloak with the air of one who does not quite believe what he is doing – which was true, for Mordred was still in awe of what Arthur had done for him by making him a knight of the Round Table, and still he wondered if one day he would awaken in Morgana's citadel to find that it had all been a dream.
'Come in,' he said to my tentative knock on the door, which was ajar; seeing that it was me, he smiled in a confused manner.
'Hullo.'
'Mordred, I really want to be your friend.'
It was a silly, childish thing to say, and I at once regretted it, but it struck a chord in Mordred, who lowered the cloak and left it on the end of his bed, pacing a little closer towards the door.
'I had rather hoped that we were already friends.'
'I didn't mean... friend. I meant... God, I don't know what I meant. Mordred, why can't I speak to you?' I stammered, my voice bouncing through the sentence like a cart on a gravel track. 'I know, we're friends, sort of, but I mean, Mordred, I like you, I more than like you...'
'You've been talking to Juliana, haven't you?'
I stared. 'What?'
'I told her... no, she guessed it. She guessed... Apparently all of Camelot knows about... about me and you.'
'That's what she said to me too... I don't understand what she meant.'
'Ganieda.' A statement, a plea perhaps. 'Ganieda, do you... Oh, what's the point? Ganieda, I love you, and I rather hope that you love me, because it would look quite stupid if not.'
His hand reached for mine; I began to shrink from the advance – I had not known he was so close. I let him take my hand, though, and felt his touch, so very soft, his hand more brushing mine than holding it... I wondered what he would do, and found myself feeling slightly afraid. Yet he was just as nervous as I was, I realised. I hesitated; and then I said it. 'I love you...'
Then, suddenly, he kissed me, not passionately, but in such a way that betrayed his deep feelings – strong, powerful yet mature, a sweet kiss in some respects, not going too far, merely pleasant – and I enjoyed it, I enjoyed it more than anything in my life before. I knew then that I loved him, that he loved me, and that all was well, all was perfect, and –
Merlin.
My God, what would he say? I broke away quickly, reeling, stunned; Mordred stared at me, frowning and looking more than a little disappointed.
'What is it?' he asked, his hand still on my cheek.
I pushed him away. 'I cannot be with you, Mordred.'
'Because Merlin hates me. Is that it?' His voice was scornful: he knew that he told the truth.
I blushed and said nothing.
'But I love you, Ganieda, and you love me, do you not? You can't follow Merlin all your life. Follow yourself, your own heart.'
The whispered words were tempting, and my heart was pulled in two different directions. For I loved Mordred, inexplicably and yet definitely, a passion that I did not want to suppress; but I loved Merlin, my dear brother and quite the kindest person I knew, and I did not want to betray him – not ever.
But, of course, the path of love is uneven and irresistible, and I wanted Mordred – I loved him, I needed him.
'Mordred, I –'
'Shun me, then, like Merlin does; see if I care.'
Despite his words he looked terribly wounded, his voice cracking slightly as he snapped at me. 'I'm sorry; I –'
'Mordred, I was going to say I love you.'
He blinked and did not reply, instead taking my hand more firmly and placing his other hand on my cheek, brushing away the stray hairs there, bending slightly so that his eyes were at the level of mine; and he kissed me again, more determinedly this time, and I kissed him back, one hand at his shoulder, one at his waist, and we stayed there for a long while, our eyes closed, lost in our love for each other –
And then I opened my eyes, and over Mordred's shoulder I caught sight of a figure standing in the doorway – Merlin.
I broke away from the kiss, pushing Mordred backwards; Mordred turned, and his face became hard: the two young men, the two enemies, glared at each other with spite and the most immense malice. It was a terrible sight for me, who loved both. I did not like to see the fury that was pent up in them, that blazed in their eyes.
'Sorry, am I disturbing you?' Merlin didn't sound at all sorry. 'Ganieda – Gaius has almost finished making tea.'
'Tell him I'll be there in a minute,' I said. 'Tell him I'm with Mordred. He might understand,' I added, finding a cattiness within me that I had not known existed before then. 'Unlike you.'
Merlin raised one eyebrow and stared first at me, then at Mordred, before leaving the room.
When I turned to face Mordred again, I found that he was looking at me with something akin to admiration. 'So you can stand up to Merlin!'
I could only shrug.
'I should let you go home, brave Gaius's cooking –'
'Perhaps,' I said, and then grinned. 'Well, aren't you going to kiss me goodbye?'
'You love him!'
Merlin, who had been pacing before me, his face wrought, suddenly turned to me, blurting out this accusation.
'How can you love that – that traitor, that little –'
'Merlin, shut up!'
'He's going to kill Arthur, destroy Camelot, and you –'
'Merlin!'
'You love him!'
At this I stood, clutched his arm, turned him so that he faced me. 'Yes, I love him, and I cannot help that, nor can I change it. And I should like it if you stopped insulting him. He's a good man.'
'Good man, ha! Ganieda –'
'Shut up!'
'I hate him!'
'I don't care how you feel!'
This last statement, shouted right in his face at the top of my voice, made him recoil as if he had been slapped across the cheek. Whilst he was still standing there, stunned, I pushed past him and stormed from the room, from the quarters even, leaving Merlin and his opinions behind me, deciding definitely that I, as Mordred, was unmoved by what he thought –
