Woe to her that is filthy and polluted, the oppressing city!
She obeyed not the voice; she received not correction…
Her princes within her are roaring lions; her judges are evening wolves… her priests have polluted the sanctuary, they have done violence to the law.
- Zephaniah 3:1-4
In a small chamber within the grand cathedral of Camelot, Lady Guinevere Fairforge and the Archdeacon Hywel had been debating for over half an hour.
"As I said, my lady," said the archdeacon, "I am aware both your heart and your intentions are good."
"Then support my cause, my lord," said Gwen. "Defend me from those who would undermine me."
"While the Church appreciates the social work you have committed to, it is not enough to put bread in people's mouths. You risk advancing the physical welfare of your charges at the cost of their spiritual well-being."
"My lord," breathed Gwen, clearly exasperated. "It cannot be spiritually beneficial for a woman to be trapped in a state of misery for her entire life. Do you know how desperate the situation of the people in the lower town is? How much they must endure for the sake of a roof over their heads? I cannot send them back to homes where they are brutalised."
"This matter is more complicated than you suggest. It was one thing to take in your friend. Her husband had little wealth or influence. Perhaps we could have looked the other way. But we hear that many people now come and go to your properties without the knowledge or permission of their masters and husbands. Apart from the spiritual question, you are violating the legal rights of some powerful men. I need hardly remind you that your position is tenuous, my lady. Discretion is called for."
Guinevere looked away, as if casting around for inspiration. The cathedral had been one of her favourite places to visit as a child. It was as grand and beautiful as the palace, but open to all, bustling yet tranquil. It had meant something to her then, sharing in the sacraments, knowing that in this place God had made all equal, that even a servant like her had the same worth as any noble. This building had always given her a sense of peace, for within its walls the grim realities of the outside world feared to intrude.
"I am not a person who can see cruelty and remain silent for long," said Gwen at last. "I wondered why the king had singled me out for this role. The spite I have endured, the danger his attention has foisted on me, you cannot begin to imagine, my lord. But the more time passes, the more I can see the good I can accomplish. I have spent my whole life without power or voice. Perhaps some greater hand than the king's has guided the course of my life."
"No doubt that is true," said the archdeacon. "But it cannot be God's will for you to work against His own sacraments. My daughter… surely you understand that for you, especially, the appearance of propriety must be preserved."
Guinevere's cheeks coloured. "Do you think anything untoward has occurred between myself and His Majesty, my lord?"
"It matters not what I think. The point is that many see your relationship with the king as over-familiar. Were it his intention to court you, he had ample opportunity to do so. The reason he has accepted neither your hand nor another woman's is known only to him. Nevertheless, given your public behaviour, how can you interfere in marital disputes between a noblewoman and her husband? The lords may rightly call into question your respect for the sanctity of the matrimonial bond."
"Sanctity?" sputtered Gwen. "What sanctity? Cadi's husband is a brute! Her pastor has done nothing for years. And when I took her into my service, to give her a brief respite from the torment, her husband appealed to the Church, and now I am ordered to deliver my friend back into misery. And as for Lady White, her husband's infidelities are infamous. Do you know the things that go on in that household? I have heard but a fraction of them, and they make me ill. Can sanctity exist in such a state?"
"My daughter," said the archdeacon tiredly. "I have tried to explain to you that marriage is of a dual nature. There is a civil union, a worldly contract, which men do abuse. This is a great tragedy. As a flawed, mortal institution, wedlock is often cruel and imperfect. But marriage also has a sacramental component. This is a holy vow, taken before God, and it binds two souls for eternity. This rite was ordained by God that two mortal souls might mutually experience the mystery of His love in its purest form. It is a reflection of God's own love, and His Son's love for His creation. This cannot be put aside so easily. To undermine this is to destroy the very basis of our Faith.
"I have offered you a compromise. We may tolerate the separation of your maidservant Cadi from her husband. Her case, and those of the other commoners in your care, may be brought before an ecclesiastical tribunal. But Lady White must be returned to her wedded lord. I cannot offer more than this, not until the archbishop returns. I have no choice in this matter."
"We always have a choice, my lord," retorted Guinevere. "You have proved it. You will dissolve the marriage of commoners when it suits you, because the husbands have no wealth. But you tremble before a man with a title and dominions. You will return his wife because you fear the temporal power of princes, even when it interferes with your religious duty."
"Have a care, my lady," replied Archdeacon Hywel. "Both religious duty and right by law compel me to return wives to their husbands, and servants to their masters. It were well for you to meditate on what your own duty is."
"You preach the virtues of suffering to women, while turning a blind eye to their husbands' misdemeanours. You bend God's law to the whims of the nobles. My lord, you are old enough to remember how King Uther took Duchess Ygraine to wife. Did you remind him of the sanctity of the marital bond then?"
The archdeacon drew himself up, looking discomfited. "I would remind you again of propriety, my lady. To impeach the honour of a king's birth is treason. I do not listen to idle gossip."
"Unless it concerns myself and His Majesty, apparently. Well, put aside idle gossip, and let us deal with facts. Is it not a fact that King Uther slew the Duke of Tintagel and married his wife mere days later?"
"What is the purpose of this line of questioning? If you believe there was aught amiss with the manner of the late king's marriage, that is all the more reason for the utmost moral propriety to be observed in the kingdom now. Or would you rather be remembered as a patroness of adultery? You have one week to see that Lady White returns to her lawfully wedded husband, my lady. Beyond that time, I may no longer mediate in this case. It shall be turned over the civil authorities, and Lord White may have his wife by force."
Archdeacon Hywel made a little bow, and disappeared into a side passage. Gwen swept out of the room in frustration. In the nave, she paused before the altar to cross herself in front of the Maiden. Lady, give me strength, she prayed, before hurrying down the length of the cathedral and across the threshold, where her retinue awaited her.
Lady Fairforge's train was made up of knights, pages and handmaids. At the head of this company stood a tall, regal woman in the sombre garb of an abbess. Her head was bowed meditatively before one of the carved doors of the cathedral, which depicted St Margaret the Virgin piercing a dragon with a golden cross. The other door bore a relief of St George impaling a different dragon on his lance.
The Pendragon kings were not known for their subtlety.
King Uther had added these engravings to the great portal in his time, and also placed a stained glass image of himself within the walls of the cathedral. In the glass painting, Uther took on the iconography of both saints, standing crowned and glorious over the Great Dragon of Camelot, the beast cast down by his might, and confined in a cave beneath his throne, like the giant serpent the Vykings had said was chained to the roots of the World-Tree.
It had been said that on quiet days, whenever the great church bells rang, the dragon's roars were heard in answer deep beneath the castle, as it wept for being the last of its kind. People still said they heard its cries on the wind, long after the beast had been driven away and slain by Arthur.
Some swore that during the dragon's attack on Camelot, the image of St George had come to life and ridden outside the city gates, and miraculously shielded the king and his herald from the beast's flames. Other peasants swore that when they had taken shelter in the cathedral, St Margaret had lifted her golden cross, and not a stone of the church had been scorched by the dragon's breath.
Gwen considered herself a believing woman, yet she found it hard to credit the sheer weight of folklore which the city groaned under. The miracles the faithful believed in were often more outlandish than the works of sorcerers themselves.
"A productive visit, my lady?" asked Abbess Flavia, interrupting Gwen's thoughts with her beautiful Frankish-laced tones. A long time ago, in another life, the abbess had been the daughter of a younger Norman baron. She had been passing beautiful, and given the superior education of a noblewoman, though she had taken the veil as a maid and given up the world for contemplation of God.
She had been one of Arthur's tutors, and a sort of governess to him, once upon a time. Arthur had recommended her to Gwen as a mentor in courtly ways and a trusted ally.
"Not at all, I'm afraid, Reverend Mother." Gwen descended the marble steps, and her company of knights and attendants fell in behind her, headed by the abbess and another sister.
"This is no surprise," said the abbess. "The archdeacon is a stubborn old goat. He cannot form an original thought without the permission of the archbishop."
"I don't know what to do," said Gwen. "I must return Lady White within a week. Perhaps I can persuade her to leave Camelot. But she's so young. She was married while barely more than a girl. She's too frightened to live anywhere else."
"Were it not for my elder sisters, I might have suffered the same fate as this girl. At the end of this week, send her to the abbey. We may delay proceedings against her there."
"Is that safe? Hasn't the archbishop disciplined you for resisting him before?"
"The archbishop is not here. When he returns, the king will be with him. You must prevail upon His Majesty to use his influence in this case. We shall harbour the girl until then. Afterwards, her fate is in your hands."
Guinevere turned, and bowed her head to the abbess in gratitude. "Gramercy for your kindness, Reverend Mother," she said. "You have done more for me than most."
"Kindness speaks to kindness," replied Abbess Flavia. "The last lord of Wyldheim spent all his revenues on arming the king's knights. God has not placed us on this earth merely to make war upon our brothers, but to ease the plight of the afflicted. You have contributed much to our causes. A lady who has known life's hardships firsthand, and gives of her own substance to succour the needy, shall always have friends among the Sisters of Our Lady of Clairvaux."
The main streets of Camelot were especially picturesque in the spring sunlight. Tall Norman towers and squat, ancient stone buildings stood shoulder to shoulder, all clothed with coloured drapes. The city was much emptier in the absence of the king's court, and with His Majesty's knights and men-at-arms ridden to war, a mere ghost force of guards had been left behind to keep the peace. These men were supplemented by the forces of the earls who were still mustering their troops in support of the king.
Guinevere saw the gold and black banners of the Maddocks, and the white and black shields of the Protheros, everywhere she looked. She had been in the city less than a day, and it troubled her how numerous the soldiers of these lords were, how they drank and brawled in the streets, and quarrelled with the citizens, as though they were not guests in their king's capital.
The king has been gone almost two weeks. These lords should have ridden to the front with him by now. How long can it take them to prepare for this skirmish?
Two knights in the stark colours of the Protheros stood opposite a guildhouse, from which a veiled Avramite woman now emerged. One of the knights nudged his companion as the woman came down the steps and made to bypass them.
"Halt!" the knight said to the damsel, who dutifully came to a stop. "Name yourself, damoiselle."
The maid inclined her head respectfully. "I am Devra, daughter of Japheth, by grace of His Majesty a merchant of Camelot, if it please you, Sir Knights."
"Have you anything to prove your identity?" asked the knight.
The woman reached into a small bag tied to her waist, and withdrew a sheaf of parchments. "I have documents proving my identity, and a letter of safe passage from the Exchequer of the Beyn Avrami here."
"Those letters could be borne by anyone," said the second knight. "Uncover your face, that we may see you."
The woman hesitated. "Sir Knights, I am known to many persons about this city. Any member of the king's court will vouch for me."
"The king's court is not here," replied the second knight. "And in His Majesty's absence, we are on high alert for sorcerers. The Druids can take any form they please, and their agents may be at large in the city. Your documents are no longer sufficient. Uncover yourself."
The woman wavered again. "It is the custom among my people that we do not unveil ourselves in the presence of unknown men. Perhaps if you were to bring a lady of the court-"
"It is the custom among our people," replied the second knight, "that commoners obey the directives of knights born. Do not make me ask you again."
"Peace, Sir Kaed," said the first knight, with a show of magnanimity. "A lady's ear craves sweetness." Turning to the Avramite woman with exaggerated courtesy, he declared, "Fair Rose of Sharon! Unfold thy petals, and let us behold the pearls and rubies of the Temple."
The damsel recoiled with contempt. "Sir Knight, do you name me a rose, even while you trample my people underfoot as weeds? You are a warrior, not a poet, to flatter with empty words. Enough of this prattle."
Sir Kaed scoffed. "See what you get for your trouble, Meret? Your hospitality is repaid with their thorns." He put his hand on his sword-hilt, as if he meant to take the damsel's words literally.
By then, Guinevere had drawn close enough to understand what was happening.
"Stay your arm, Sir Knight," Gwen called. "I know this damsel. I vouch for her, and take her into my keeping."
The knights appeared taken aback by the arrival of Guinevere and her companions. Sir Meret looked Guinevere up and down.
"Name yourself," he said.
"I am Lady Guinevere Fairforge," replied Gwen.
A strange expression dawned on Sir Kaed's face, but his companion was unmoved.
"I know of no noble House by that name," said Sir Meret.
"Then perhaps you know the seal on this ring?" asked Guinevere, removing the token of her rank, and holding it before the knight. "This ring bears the crest of your king, and it was given me on the day he created me Lady Fairforge. Were you present at his coronation, at the least? Did you hear how he swore to govern the peoples of Camelot according to their respective laws and customs? How he spoke of the rich variety of people within his kingdom, and their many beliefs? Will you persecute his own subjects, even while you swear to uphold his peace? Is this the mercy and justice shown by the king's knights?"
Sir Meret looked somewhat cowed. Sir Kaed whispered in his ear, and his attitude changed.
"We meant no disrespect, my lady," Sir Meret said eventually. "We are merely trying to keep the city safe while His Majesty is at war."
"I see how safe this place has become in your presence," said Guinevere. "Mistress Devra. Kindly accompany me."
Devra went to Guinevere's side, and Gwen hurried them away, her knights bringing up the rear with their own hands on their sword-hilts.
"It seems," said Devra, "that I am making a habit of being in your family's debt, my lady."
"There is no debt," said Guinevere. "An injustice to anyone is an injustice to all."
When there were no knights or soldiers in sight but Guinever's own, Devra lowered her voice.
"The city is not safe, my lady. It were best you had never returned. You should ride to your estate at once and prepare for siege. I pray it is not already too late."
"What do you mean?" asked Gwen in surprise.
"The earls have been wreaking havoc since their arrival. Lord Prothero demanded a vast sum of silver from our merchants. We refused, but he extorted it by force, and the craftsmen have been toiling to arm his knights and soldiers ever since. The earls' men-at-arms run riot. They have not stirred to leave the Citadel, or to ride to the king's aid."
"Why hasn't the king's council put a stop to this?"
"I have not seen any of the council in days. I have gained no admission to the palace."
Guinevere felt cold. "Where's Master Gaius?"
"He was treating my father. I attempted to visit his chambers three days ago, and was turned away. No physician or patient of his has seen him, not since Lord Maddock arrived. The home guard were small enough in number, and the knights of Prothero and Maddock have taken over many of their duties. They watch every gate. People enter the city, but I have seen no nobleman leave."
Guinevere came to a halt.
"You speak of treachery," said Abbess Flavia.
Guinevere said, "Those two earls would not dare defy Arthur alone. This must have been planned far in advance. The city has men enough to hold her gates against assault from outside, but if the earls have turned, she is already lost from within."
Understanding came over her. "The war with the Normans," she said softly. "The marcher lords goaded the king into leaving the city with his court and all his armies. They meant him to leave Camelot defenceless. But if that's true… some of the earls who ride with the king must know of this scheme. He is not safe in their company. They must mean for him to be slain in the war."
"Let me send word to him," said Abbess Flavia. "The earls will not restrain the movement of a woman of the Church."
"Can you do so, without any of his earls seeing the message?" asked Gwen. "What if they search his letters?"
"My lady, allow me to help," said Devra. "My brother, Elam ben Japheth, is with the king. Address your missive to him. I will disguise the message within a bill of sale. Numbers, when scribed in the Saracen character, may form a cipher, which can only be broken by a key. It is unlikely to be recognised, though my brother will understand it instantly."
"Thank you," said Gwen. "You take a risk."
"His Majesty spared my father a painful trial. We repay our debts, with interest."
"Are you safe for the moment?"
"None of us are. But I may not flee the city while my people remain here. Already rioting has broken out in the lower town. I may not leave them to be plundered by knights and peasants alike. While I remain here, you may depend upon me."
"Thank you," said Gwen again. Turning to one of her maidservants, she said, "Cadi, I need you to lose us, then go to the Citadel. Find the head cook, or Mistress Rhona. Nothing goes on in the castle without their knowledge. If Gaius or any of the small council are being confined there, they will know. They can be trusted. But you can't let any of the guards know you're connected to me. Can you do this?"
Cadi didn't hesitate. "I can do anything for you, Gwen." She pulled her hood tighter about her face, and hurried off down the street.
"And what would you have us do, my lady?" asked Sir Riece. The young knight, clad in the handsome blue surcoat of the Pendreds, had become the leader of the men-at-arms in Guinevere's service. It was customary for even a minor baroness to have knights pledged to her from the younger sons of neighbouring noble houses, who sought honour and rewards through service, to make up for their own small inheritance. Gwen knew that many of the older families of Camelot still scorned her, but the king's favour, and her brother Elyan's leadership and valour among the knights, had nevertheless earned her a following. She knew what it cost these men, and she had heard people calling them the Kitchen Knights and Scullery Knights for following her, just as they called her Lady Chambermaid. But the insults only spurred them to defend her honour with greater tenacity, and Sir Riece was perhaps the most chivalrous of them all.
"I fear," said Guinevere, "that I have placed you all in danger by returning here. We are too small a company to resist the earls, but too large to escape notice. I should not have gone to the archdeacon, or disputed with those knights in the street. We are too close to the king for the Maddocks or Protheros to allow us to leave the city now.
"We shall return to our lodgings. None of these earls know my face well. They have only seen me as a baroness, and I may be able to leave our chambers in the company of my serving girls. I know Lowtown well, better than the palace-born, and certainly better than these earls. I still have friends in these streets, and may disappear into them. However, you knights will have to remain in our quarters, and keep up the pretense of my presence as long as you may. I fear the earls will come for you soon."
"Will you have us fight them, my lady?" asked Sir Riece.
"No! I will not have your blood spilled. Delay them as long as you can, but surrender to them when you must. We lack the numbers to contend with this many men. We must hold out until the king returns. I fear you will not be treated well in their custody."
"My lady," said Riece, "when your brother was not yet a knight, he took arms against the undead to recover this city for his king. Surely we who are sworn to the Knight's Code, and trained under Sir Elyan, can endure the wrath of mortal men for our king's sake."
"Your valour becomes you." Gwen now turned to the sisters. "Reverend Mother, I cannot allow you to become involved in this. Please get word to the king, and then protect yourselves as best you can."
"I was not aware we required your permission to act, my daughter," said Abbess Flavia. "This is a difficult matter. For we are set apart from worldly things, yet we may act in the world to avert injustice. I must pray on this matter. In the meantime you may find us at the house of the Little Sisters of St Augustine. We shall not leave the city while the question of your safety remains. I am curious to know how much the archdeacon has observed of these happenings, and why he has not acted. This is not a light matter, that an earl should go against the sovereign crowned and anointed by the Archbishop of Mother Church."
To Devra, the abbess said, "My daughter, accompany us. We shall draft the letter in all haste. You shall have all the protection we can afford."
Devra inclined her head in acquiescence.
"Then we all have our tasks," said Gwen. "Move swiftly, and take care not to be followed." She absent-mindedly rubbed the ring on her finger, the badge of office entrusted to her by Arthur. It was not the ring popular gossip had said she would receive from the king, but it entailed a vow of loyalty as strong as that binding any other union.
"For the love of Camelot," she said.
The party split in two, and its members were soon lost in the high streets.
As the cathedral's great bells tolled in the distance, Lord Maddock betook himself to the dungeons. Stopping before two cells of interest, he made a gesture, and the guards departed, leaving him alone in the company of the elderly occupants.
"Good morning, Gaius," he said. "Geoffrey."
The aged physician pulled himself upright from the stone ground. "What is the point of this, Arwel?" he said in a hoarse voice, cracked from thirst. "Neither of us has changed our mind. And neither of us will. Surely there are better uses of your time."
"I have come to inform you of some good news. I no longer require either of you."
"What do you mean?" said Gaius.
"You could have made this much easier on yourself."
"Unlike you," said Gaius, "some of us take our vows of loyalty seriously."
"What nonsense," said Lord Maddock. "Didn't you owe loyalty to other scholars of magic during the Great Purge? You know nothing of loyalty, and less of courage, physician. It was self-preservation that bound you to Uther. Though I cannot think what keeps you in service to his memory even now. Fear of his shade, perhaps."
"It doesn't surprise me you can't fathom loyal service. Uther was a greater man than you will ever be."
"Age has robbed you of sense, hasn't it? You were one of the few witnesses to the king's birth. All I asked of you was to speak the truth. Yet you choose to protect him. It is common knowledge that unnatural powers were active at his conception, that he was born of unlawful lust. Tell the people the truth about their king, physician!"
"That is idle gossip and slander. I will not lend credence to these fables."
"And you," said Lord Maddock, shifting his gaze to the other prisoner. "Keeper of Records. As chief of the heralds, you have the power to confer arms and strip them from noble houses. How many family trees have you hacked at, and scorched to the ground, for trifling offences? All while serving a king whose ancestry is rife with dishonourable vices? The dragon on his crest should hang its head in shame."
"My answer to you," said Geoffrey, "remains the same as Gaius'. I cannot modify the records to suit the whims of any man. The genealogies are sacred. There was nothing untoward recorded in Arthur's birth, and unless you present me with evidence otherwise, I may not rewrite the truth."
"Fortunately," said Lord Maddock, "the archdeacon is a more pliable man than you old fools."
"What?" Gaius painfully dragged himself closer to the bars. "What is this, Arwel?"
"Your king's piety is doubted by the Church. He has not produced an heir. He has made friendly overtures to sorcerers and heathens. He keeps poor company. His strange behaviour portends the madness of his father. I have spoken to Archdeacon Hywel, and persuaded him that a tribunal should look into circumstances of Arthur's birth."
"To what purpose?" said Gaius. "Does the archdeacon seek to join you in treason?"
"It is not treason to defy a wrongly invested king. I have found other witnesses to cast doubt on Uther's marriage. There are men who say the Duke of Tintagel was still breathing when Arthur was conceived. They will testify that Uther certainly knew of this. Other men will swear that Ygraine knowingly lay with a man who was not her lord husband. The Church takes a dim view of children born of wilful adultery."
"This is more hearsay," said Gaius.
"It is enough," replied Lord Maddock. "Enough to loosen the king's grip on his crown. I will effectively have Arthur declared illegitimate. It will merely be legislating what is popular opinion. The only other pretender to Pendragon blood is Morgana, another bastard, and a sorceress of the Old Religion, friendless and excommunicated. Uther's line will end here."
"You selfish fool," said Gaius. "You will plunge this kingdom into anarchy."
"I will free us," said Maddock, "from the yoke of the Pendragons. Do you know many of my ancestors fell to the Pendragon lords? Uther and his father saw us bled by Eireian raiders, and never stirred a finger, except to butcher us and plunder us further. We have both seen our friends tortured at Pendragon hands, Gaius. The difference is that I cannot turn my back on duty as easily as you. No more. It ends here. Know that all your suffering has been for naught, and that you will be with your beloved Uther soon enough."
And Lord Maddock left the cells.
After a while, Geoffrey said, "This is my first time in here, Gaius. You and I have had full lives. Yet somehow, much seems undone… what a strange world this is."
Gaius looked towards the corner of the chamber, where he could see a bar of light creeping under the door.
"The world belongs to the young now," he said at last. "We have to trust them to make better choices than we did."
A/N: Hi everyone, unfortunately updates are going to be very slow for a while. I've started studying again and I'm really not coping with the workload I have with my job and other commitments. The next few chapters are also going to be flashbacks rather than directly advancing the plot. Bear with me, they just felt right here and I think they will help flesh out the characters a bit more. I don't know how linear I want this story to be, it's a bit scattered, because that's how my brain works.
I have a fairly good idea of how I want the next chapter or two to look, so hopefully they'll come out a bit quicker If. If you like Arthur, Merlin and Morgana, I think you're in for a treat :) take care.