A Tale of Two Ages
Chapter Six– War and Peace II
5th Century Britain
-Castle Cameliard-
Guinevere's breath fogs the window of her room and she uses her sleeve to wipe it off. Now clear of fog, the window reveals the world outside. The tips of the trees around the castle are flecked with white and woodsmen are handing over piles of wood to servants. Snow has started to fall.
Winter has arrived and still her father is not home.
She moves away from the window and flops onto her bed, narrowly missing a thick book opened on a random page. It was in the middle of autumn when the Beard King assaulted their gates, when the High King had saved them from being overrun and cemented an alliance with her father. And it was because of that alliance that forces of Cameliard had marched off to war not a week after.
She supposes that she resents the High King somewhat for dragging her father to the North and involving them in his wars. War is bloody and people die. Many people die. And she has heard tales of how the Northmen fight like beasts, waving around two handed swords and cleaving men in half with them…
Guinevere gulps. She turns and flips through the pages of the book beside her. Beowulf. The hero of the Geats and slayer of the monster Grendel. She sighs and fervently hopes that the Northmen do not fight like Beowulf.
If only King Arthur had not…
What is she thinking? She has no right to begrudge the King his war. Especially since it is a war that will unite Britain under one rule, just as it was with King Uther.
King Arthur. She does not understand him. He is not the man she'd thought King Arthur to be—a conqueror, a hero, tall, proud and charming. She had seen King Uther once, at a feast, while hiding behind her father. The Pendragon was a beast of a man, larger and broader than even King Leodegrance. She had heard from the servants that he drank a lot and she had heard his booming laughs even when she was not in the Great Hall. King Uther had an air about him… he was like a warrior from the tales.
Guinevere had expected King Arthur to be like Uther, albeit a younger version… but instead of being disappointed, she was just surprised. He was quiet, too short and too young. But just like his father, he had an air about him. A different air, softer and gentler, but still the aura of a King.
But why did he lie for her? She would have expected a High King to look at her—a princess not following her father's orders—with disdain, contempt, or even mild amusement. Not with… not with understanding. And to go to such lengths as to lie for her sake?
She does not understand King Arthur at all.
"Guinevere! Guineveere!"
Oh, who on earth is pounding on her door at this hour?
Guinevere slowly rolls to her feet and does not bother fixing her appearance as she walks over to the outer chamber. If the person on the other side is impatient and brazen enough to pound at her door, then they will have to excuse her bed-messed hair.
She gives the person on other side her best annoyed glare. Her cousin, Elyan, does not care in the slightest and enters her room with a smile on his face. His breath is slightly ragged, as if he had jogged all the way to her room. "We received a letter from a raven. It's from your father."
Guinevere's eyes widen. "Father? H-how is he?"
"Settle down, Gwen. Your father is fine." Elyan plops down on a chair, causing his unruly brown hair to fall over his face. He is dressed in a black doublet with gold trimmings and a steel cuirass on top—fitting clothes for her father's temporary replacement.
"Well, what did the letter say?" She frowns a bit. It is just like him to withhold information just to tease her. Suspense, as he calls it.
"The war is over." He grins at her as if he cannot believe what he is saying. "The war is over. We won."
"The war is... over?" That is good, right? No more people have to die now. "Is father coming home?"
Her cousin nods. "He'll be on his way back to Cameliard as soon as they... do what they have to. After war comes peace, and with peace comes diplomacy, after all."
Guinevere sighs in relief, leaning against a wall.
"Oh come on. Was I really doing that bad of a job?"
She opens an eye to see Elyan glaring at her. "Let us just say that administrative work is... not your strong suit, cousin."
"Well excuse you, Princess," He huffs and throws a grape at her. She is about to tell him that she is a princess when he stands and says, "I haven't told you everything yet so stop interrupting me."
She raises an inquisitive eyebrow in response.
"The King said that- by King I mean your father and not uh, King Arthur. It is rather confusing is it not?"
No, it isn't. Guinevere's glare due to his delaying tactics makes Elyan smirk.
"Anyway, he said that he won't be coming home alone."
"Of course he isn't! He's going to come back with the soldiers too."
"You know that's not what I meant, Gwen." Elyan pauses, for dramatic effect, as he calls it. "He's going to travel with King Arthur. Which means that the King- by King, I mean King Arthur- is coming here as well."
Guinevere looks at him, perplexed. "He's coming here? That is great, but… why?"
"It matters not. It's King Arthur. King Arthur. He is coming here. To Cameliard." Elyan punctuates each phrase by slamming his fist into his palm. "Why are you so calm about this?" He exclaims once he sees that Guinevere is not as excited as he is. The knight's adoration of the High King must have rubbed off on the temporary lord.
"The King has been here before. He saved us from King Rience."
"Yes, I've heard. But he was not the High King, then. Not really." Elyan waves a hand nonchalantly and rubs his chin. Then, as if he had come to a decision, he nods and stands straight. "If the High King himself is coming to Cameliard, then we need to prepare."
"You mean something like a feast?"
He nods, face full of determination. "Among other things. And I am going to need your assistance, Gwen."
Ah. So this is why he had rushed to her room instead of telling her the news tomorrow.
"We are going to have our hands full. So I expect you to give your utmost." Elyan claps her shoulder and walks toward the door.
"I haven't even given my consent yet." Guinevere blinks.
"You cannot refuse. We have to make Cameliard presentable for their arrival."
She bristles at the insinuation that her home is not fine enough to welcome the Kings home.
Elyan sees her expression and sighs. "Cameliard is a wonderful place and is no backwater by any means, Gwen. But compared to the capital..."
Guinevere fidgets. She has never been to Camelot, but Elyan and his father have traveled all over the British Isles. He would know more about what is presentable than she.
"Alright. I will do my best to help you."
"That's the spirit!" In an instant he is back to being his carefree self. Elyan winks slyly at her. "Besides, I hear that the King is a dashing young man. If we do well enough, you might catch his eye."
Elyan is shoved out of the room, still laughing.
-A Great Hall in Orkney-
Minstrels and bards play jaunty music as mugs of ale are passed around. The hearty laughs of men and the soft giggles of women abound. The King smiles from the head of the table and raises a mug of ale with the arm not wrapped in bandages.
Another King sits to his right, curiously observing the people around him. His silence starkly contrasts from the jovial atmosphere.
"Drink, King Arthur! You must try the drink of the North!" The host declares. Arturia wonders if the man can even do anything quietly.
"Many thanks, King Lot. But I have drunk my fill tonight." Not true-exactly. She can certainly drink more, but what passes for Northern ale taste like leaves mixed with Merlin's weirder concoctions. Not to her taste at all.
"Nonsense! A King can never drink too much." Arturia scowls inwardly as a mug is slammed down in front of her.
If I won the war, then why am I taking orders from a man I had beaten?
Lot has taken it upon himself to educate King Arthur on proper kingship. Arturia agreed mostly to sate her curiosity, but apparently, proper kingship lies in one's choice of drink and weapon. Being satisfied with 'Arthur's' prowess with the latter, Lot decided that a feast was the perfect place for a lesson regarding the former.
Where she comes from, the greater proportion of liquor is distributed to the lords and knights at the feast's latter stages, once the food is mostly gone. Those who do not wish to take part in merry drunkenness take their leaves. Those who stay become much… noisier, among other things.
In Orkney, however… the people have liquor at breakfast. And dinner. And supper.
"You must excuse, my lord husband, King Arthur." A woman-King Lot's wife-chuckles. She is seated at his left, and therefore, in front of Arturia. "He sometimes forgets that not all of Britain has Orkney's customs."
Arturia just smiles in resignation. Her mug is half- full… or is it half-empty? "It is as they say, my lady. When in Rome, do as the Romans do."
The woman grimaces as she looks at her husband, who is now at the middle of the table, regaling his men with war stories. "That is not the best… analogy, King Arthur." She looks back at Arturia. "Sympathy for Rome does not run deep in the North."
"…I see." Many things changed for Britain when the Romans left the islands. The people were forced to defend themselves from the Anglo-Saxon invaders without any aid from their former overlords.
One of the many things 'King Arthur' eventually has to address.
Arturia looks to her right and finds Sir Kay carousing with the other knights and warriors. Merlin has an arm around a woman's waist and is whispering things in her ear. Arturia sighs but lets them be. They deserve a moment of merriment.
Some lords or knights lie passed out on tables or chairs and those that aren't are singing or clapping their friends on the back. The food has been hastily cleared out by servants and the last barrels of ale, wine, and mead are being rolled out. The feast has formally moved into its latter stages.
Arturia finishes what remains in her cup and finds King Lot's wife examining her as she puts the mug down. The woman does not seem inebriated, nor does she look at the King of Knights with desire. But there is something about her that sets Arturia on edge.
"Morgause! You're still here?"
Their attention is drawn when the host shuffles back to his seat. Another mug is in one hand while the other is clutching a wall for support. Unlike Lady Morgause, King Lot is obviously drunk. "You enjoy speaking with Arthur so much you decide to stay?"
Morgause frowns and opens her mouth but is interrupted by her husband. He chuckles and turns to Arturia with bleary eyes. "She's never done that for me, milord. Heh. I guess I-ah don't have to teach you anythin' about… wenches."
Arturia frowns. "King Lot."
"Ugghaa-" King Lot ignores her tone, grunts and shakes his head. He takes a swig from his mug and looks at his wife. "Go be with the children, woman. The boys need their mother."
Morgause stands, her forced smile not reaching her eyes. "Of course, my lord." She walks away with taut shoulders, perhaps preserving what dignity she has left.
Arturia turns to the now dozing King Lot and gets the feeling that this is not the first time things like this have happened. The host snorts in his sleep and absently moves an arm. His mug topples over and the contents spill on Arturia's tunic. She curses, pushes the chair off the table and wipes her tunic with her bare hands.
I hate feasts.
-King Arthur's Camp-
Tents are rolled up, pack horses and mules are fitted with gear, the banners of the king and his noblemen are raised and squires and pages run around the camp carrying their knights' arms.
Arturia watches a captain yell orders at men-at-arms from the parapets. She had left Sir Bedivere in charge of assembling the men for travel two hours ago and Sir Kay had taken it upon himself to discuss legalities with King Lot. Left with nothing to do, the King contented herself by observing from the castle parapets.
But she had been doing so for an hour.
Arturia is saved from resorting to pace like a caged animal when Morgause approaches. "King Arthur." She gives a curtsy, impressive, considering the fact that the ground is covered in snow. "May I join you?"
"Of course, Lady Morgause." Arturia inclines her head and waves a hand at the space beside her.
The other woman walks over and lays her hands on the parapet wall. "I...feel that I must apologize for my husband's behavior during your stay, my lord. He…" Morgause frowns and coughs, perhaps running out of things to say… or excuses she can invent.
A small smile comes to Arturia's lips as she turns back to watching her men. "I doubt that King Lot feels that he has anything to be sorry for."
Morgause winces. "You must understand, my lord. The way they do things in the North is different from the way things are done in the South."
"I am aware. Well, at least now I am." Arturia exhales. "It was a… sobering experience."
King Lot's wife looks away and purses her lips.
"Nevertheless, I can see that Lot has the support of his men and knows how to rule over this icy portion of the isles. I will not strip him of his title any time soon, my lady. There is no need to worry."
"Ah." Morgause sighs in relief. "Thank you, King Arthur."
Arturia raises an eyebrow. "Did you really think I would?"
"Kings are not known for their patience or mercy, my lord." Arturia is taken aback by the sudden intensity in the other woman's eyes and the bitterness in her tone."High Kings even less so."
"You are quite unlike your father." She says after another moment of examining the King.
Arturia huffs and crosses her arms. "You are not the first person to say that."
"You resemble him greatly. You have Uther's emerald eyes and his golden hair, among other things." Morgause's description is dry, talking as if she was checking things off a list. "You have more from him than from your mother."
Arturia grits her teeth. She does not want to talk or hear about Uther and Ygraine. They are people she has never met. People she will never meet. "You remember him so well that you can compare us so?" The word 'us' leaves a dry taste in her mouth.
Morgause scoffs, making the King turn her glare at the other woman. "Of course I remember him so well." She huffs and turns back to the parapet. "He was my father as well."
End of Chapter 06
Author's Note: Whew. The latter part of this chapter took me more than a month to write (blame my school and loads of procrastination for it. Sorry!)
We'll go back to the present for Chapter Seven, so for all of you curious about the Archer and Lancer tension from Chapter three, just wait for the seventh!
Like Morgause, I also feel that I have to apologize. Not for King Lot's behavior mind you, but for the predicted slowness in my updating. It's my last year (hopefully) in university so I have a ton of workload this semester. Don't worry though, I'll do my best to update as soon as I can. Your reviews, favorites, kudoses, and PMs matter a lot! So please keep sending them. :)
P.S: Morgause is not Morgana Le Fay. They are different people. (Alright, saying any more will be spoilers so… yeah. I'll stop with that.)