Chapter I: Uneasy Beginnings
My name was Rosalind of North Wales. I was the daughter of King Uriens and Queen Flavilla of Wales, in Briton. This was the sixth century and new developments were hastily being made. The Saxons and the Britons were warring, but slowly, we were winning our attempts to drive the barbarian hordes from our lands. High King Arthur had been married for five years and remained without an heir. Camelot was in turmoil, but that was none of my concern. I only travelled there on feast days.
I avoided the place as much as possible, often feigning illness to escape from the antics of the men there. The food was good, the wine was strong, but the men were terrible. They were always at my heels, begging to escort me, begging to be my suitor, and begging to marry me. I turned each of them down and my father never complained. I rather think he enjoyed my being unwedded, for he allowed no suitors to our castle.
At seventeen, I was getting on in years, but that never halted me from enjoying my years. My father had hired the village priest to teach me to read Latin, English, and French, an opportunity not normally granted to young women. I revelled in this manly knowledge and flourished as I was allowed to study philosophy, scripture, and the old Greek and Roman poetry.
I spent most of my time riding, when I was not doing chores or helping the maids. I had three horses of my own: Fey, Arrow, and Arod. Often, I would take one of the horses and ride, unsaddled, into the forests and meadows deserted of people, to seek solitude. I enjoyed taking a book or scroll with me to a stream or pond to relax and absorb the literature. I even wrote some modest poetry of my own, but nothing worthy of publication.
It was on horse that my story starts. We were riding through Londiminium and on to Camelot to spend Pentecost with the residing lords and ladies. I was sitting atop Fey, dressed in a travelling dress, talking to my father, who rode alongside me. My brothers, Accolon and Avalloch, rode ahead while my mother sat in a litter. "I am surprised that you joined us this time, Rosalind. Most feast days, you are sick with the moon-illness or something much the same.", my father commented, with a sly, knowing smile. I looked down briefly and let the corners of my mouth turn up into a sheepish grin, "Father, I cannot help it if my moon-days fall conveniently on the feast days." At this my father guffawed and spurred his horse to go a little faster.
I shook out my strawberry-blonde hair in defiance and sped my horse also. "A race?", I suggested. "No.", my father answered, sounding more serious, "We must talk, Rosalind. When we return to North Wales, a suitor will meet us. He's here to see you, my daughter." My stomach flopped. I knew that I would not remain unmarried forever, but I had not expected a suitor so soon. I still had volumes of philosophy to read, horses to train, and poems to write- none of which were a seemly thing for a married woman to do. Nonetheless, I had to comply with my father's wishes.
"Very well, but may I ask what is so different about this man that marks him of a higher importance?", I responded. "He is an old acquaintance. I would very much like for you to strongly consider him. That is all I will say for now.", he said, closing the discussion. My insides were beginning to ache with curiosity. Who was this man who had so defied my father's policy of admitting no suitors? And why was I to strongly consider him?
We arrived in Camelot by nightfall. The stableman took my horses and eyed me curiously. "Would you be the virgin wench from North Wales?", he asked. "Aye, that is me.", I responded with disgust. So that is what they call me now. I handed the man Fey's reins and disappeared into the throng of people waiting outside, while a servant trailed behind me, carrying my belongings.
Inside Camelot, I found my father conversing with a familiar face. Morgaine! The priestess of Avalon, and sister to High King Arthur. I had grown a great respect for her when I learned that she too, refused all men. "Rosalind!", she called to me, "You look more radiant than ever, my friend." "You jest.", I said, laughing and embracing her. She led me to her room, which we would be sharing. "Thank you for allowing me to stay here.", I said with gratitude. "It was no labour, Rosalind. Now rest, you look wearied from riding. I shall return for you when supper is to be served.", she replied. I thanked her and laid my head down on the pillow.
When Morgaine returned, I was just beginning to rouse myself. "Rosalind?", she called. "Yes, I'm just waking now.", I replied. "Find something to wear. The servants will be serving the food very soon.", she answered. I nodded and dug into my saddlebag to find a holiday dress. It was a deep blue, dyed to match my eyes. I hurriedly cast off my travelling dress and slipped the holiday gown over my shift. Morgaine tied it in place at the back and helped my pleat my hair into a thick braid. "Thank you.", I said when she had finished. "You would do better to hurry than to thank me.", she teased. I smiled warily and hurried after her down the stone stairs to the Hall.
Arthur and Gwenhwyfar were seated at the center of the table. I found my father halfway down the left side, next to my mother and brothers. I took my seat next to Accolon while Morgaine sat between Arthur and her mother, Lady Igraine. Flavilla turned to me and asked, "Where were you, daughter? I did not see you after the horses were stabled." "I was in the Lady Morgaine's chamber, resting, Mother.", I answered politely. She nodded and turned away to talk to my father.
The servants began pouring the wine and putting down baskets of bread. I sipped slowly at my wine, savouring the taste, but not wishing to fall down drunk just yet. A man I did not know, sat down at the table, next to Gwenhwyfar. The two looked at each other shyly. I know that look! Arthur acknowledged him happily an introduced him to the table, "Lancelet! My horse-master, my cousin, and my good friend. His cavalry have turned the tides against the Saxons."
Ahhh, I knew his name now. Even in North Wales, we had heard the rumours of Lancelet being paramour to the High Queen. Everyone at the table must have known it, but that hardly stopped most of the women from gazing at him adoringly. I was momentarily sickened. I distracted myself with a chunk of bread and a sip of wine. He did not impress me. I kept my eyes down and waited through each course so that I could take my leave.
At last, after the cakes were served, the bards began to play songs on the harp. I gazed lazily as the many talented musicians from Briton and Avalon played their beautiful tunes. At last, Morgaine played. She was the best of them all, which was attributed to her being reared on the isle of Avalon among the priestesses. When she was finished with her song, I turned to my father, "I shall retire now. The food has made itself heavy in my stomach." My father smiled knowingly and clapped his hand to my shoulder, "You may go Rosalind, but know that we are leaving in the morning." I curtsied to him and left quickly.
I did not at first go to Morgaine's chamber. Instead, I left for the orchard. The trees were in their flower-stage and beautiful to look at. I heard footsteps behind me, coming from the castle. "Rosalind? Or should I call you the virgin wench?", he called. I did not know his voice, so I stayed turned away from him. He approached closer and stepped out in front of me. "Sir Argus.", he introduced himself. His breath was rank with wine and mead.
I chose not to acknowledge him and instead looked past him and to the mountains. "If you will marry none, then at least be my wife for the night.", he teased, edging closer to me. "I think not, drunkard.", I answered. He did not have to reply, as another had joined our party. "Argus, go to the barracks and rest your drunken head.", ordered Lancelet.
"What do you want with me?", I asked cruelly, losing patience rapidly. "Only to speak with you.", he replied. "Speak.", I ordered sharply. "Why do you hate all men so? And why does your father allow no suitors to North Wales?", he asked. "I have no interest in men because I'd rather do the things I enjoy: riding, reading, writing. I do not wish to be spinning and sewing for the rest of my days. And my father understands this.", I answered, lowering my voice slightly.
"I am surprised. Uriens is old-fashioned and very Roman. I would have guessed him to have had you wed when you turned fourteen.", Lancelet replied. "My brothers thought so, but not my father. If you must know, he is having a suitor- in two days time.", I answered, surprised that I had told this to a stranger. "Then I have a confession for you, Lady. I myself have asked for you dozens of times.", Lancelet said. "That is your loss.", I said, becoming cold once again and turning away from him. He sighed and placed his hand on my chin. I did not flinch. He turned my face to him and placed a small kiss on my mouth. "Think on it, Rosalind.", he said before mounting his horse and leaving.
I was now uncomfortable and alone. I hurried back to the castle and into Morgaine's room. I could tell no one of this and could only pray Lancelet would do the same. I climbed into bed with a heavy head full of many thoughts.
That night, I dreamt of my first memories as a child. I dreamt of my first horse, Arod and of the little silver necklace that I had had since I was born. The inscription haunted me. Luthien, these years will be long. I will return. Amin mela lle. –LG I had never understood. My father had mysteriously quieted when I brought the trinket to him for explanation at the age of eight.
I woke up several times in the night and finally chose to take a brief walk to clear my head of these dreams. I heard whispers in the corridor to my left. Curious, I followed the sounds. Hushed voices. "Gwenhwyfar!", I heard. It was late, the queen should be in bed. I saw the two of them when I turned the corner, locked in an embrace. Lancelet and Gwenhwyfar. "I hear someone.", Lancelet whispered. Quickly, I turned and ran for my room as silently as I could. That night, going to bed for the second time, I hardly understood my own feelings. I felt betrayed. But I had known, I had heard the rumours. Lancelet was a bastard and Gwenhwyfar a fool. I would not tell Arthur.
The next morning, I donned my travelling dress and entered the Hall for breakfast. I found my father and Avalloch there. "The others are still asleep.", explained Uriens. I nodded and helped myself to apples, bread, and milk. Uriens looked distracted and startled when I asked him about tomorrow's suitor. "He will be arriving early tomorrow morning from his homeland.", my father answered, not giving out any details. I looked at him questioningly. "His family is very prominent where he comes from.", he continued. "Which is?", I prodded. "He will have to explain that to you.", Uriens finished. I sighed, abandoning my questioning.
In the meantime, Flavilla and Accolon had arrived. Accolon looked like his head hurt. The wine. I gave him a broad smile and asked, "Ready to ride?" He shook his head at me distastefully, making me laugh. "Rosalind is right, son. We should leave if we are to arrive in North Wales by nightfall.", my father agreed. As soon as everyone had finished eating, the servants brought our things and we left for the stables. Father had already bid goodbye to Arthur, so we had no delay.
My father, brothers, and I mounted our horses as Flavilla crawled into her litter. The servants tied down the last of the saddlebags and we rode out from Camelot. As custom, I was glad to be leaving the place. When we were out of sight, I let a smile work its way across my face and spurred my horse on faster. My father caught up with me and we talked and rode for the better part of the day, stopping only for midday meal and to feed and water the horses.