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Chapter Twenty-Six

Since the moment that Juliana had left him in the stable, Galahad knew that his life would never be the same again. Just as she had changed his life when he had stumbled out of the bar that night, she had changed it yet again by walking away from him. All that he saw now was the back of her, copper hair swinging lifelessly in its braid as she walked away. This was not like one of their arguments, their disagreements. Juliana had walked out on him for good this time. There would be no heart felt "I'm sorry"; there would be no tender embrace as they forgave each other. There would be nothing but empty arms and hearts.

As her figure disappeared from sight, Galahad swore loudly. He punched the mound of hay on which he sat, taking his aggression, his anger, out on the lifeless thing as if the hay could have somehow kept Juliana from leaving him in this state. The tears streamed rapidly down his face, catching in his beard. How could she do this to him? She loved him; she had confessed it on more than one occasion. It was her damned god, the one who sought everything from her, that kept Juliana from Galahad. The distraught knight threw his curses to Juliana's god, damning the faith that would keep Juliana from being Galahad's.

"Why do you demand her?" He shouted at the stable's rafters as if they housed Juliana's unseen god. "Why do you not let me have her? Is she so pure that you would ripe us apart to keep me from tainting her?"

His anger weighed heavily on his shoulders, and Galahad fell to his knees, his eyes still on the rafters as he continued to shout and curse at the god that would keep Galahad from the only woman he had ever truly loved.

The days seemed to wear on so slowly that Juliana felt as if God had ordered time to slow. So lost in her misery over what she had had to do to both Galahad and herself, Juliana plodded through the days as if in a trance. She spoke to no one save Guinevere and she remained dared not to enter any room or area of the grounds where she knew Galahad would be. The majority of her time was spent in either the queen's or Juliana's own rooms. She dared not to venture to the gardens lest Galahad should be there, waiting for her.

People began to whisper about her, saying that the gods were having their revenge upon the Church of Rome by slowly sucking the very soul out of one of the Church's own. The large purple and black circles that had taken up residence beneath Juliana's eyes announced the little rest that she was finding. And the constant redness of her eyes gave tell of the nights that she spent crying. Being away from Galahad, away from his love and gentle caress, was taking its toll on Juliana's spirit. She was finding it difficult simply to get through the day without wishing and praying that God would simply release her from the conviction she felt and allow her to be with Galahad once again. Any small inkling of hope that would touch her soul was quickly bashed away by Juliana. She knew that Satan was testing her to see how far away from God she would stray. She knew that if she did not put her thoughts of Galahad away that she would eventually cave and return to him, allowing Satan to rule in her heart. And Juliana could not allow that. Thus she lived her days in agony as she continued to pray to God to soften Galahad's heart towards the Lord's love so that the young knight might know what it is to be truly saved and loved. It was only under those conditions that Juliana knew that they could be together again.

Winter came, the bitter cold months bringing a new obstacle to Juliana's attempts to avoid Galahad. The entire Court, having been snowed in was in tight quarters until the first thaw of spring. It was within the winter months that Juliana barricaded herself in her chambers, coming out only when Guinevere had need of her. She had numerous close encounters with Galahad, but always she fled before he could speak to her.

The arrival of spring heralded a release from the tight confines of the court. It also brought with it a different Juliana.

Juliana had slowly become a ghost of herself during those long winter months and, despite Guinevere's trying, now would not leave the shelter of Arthur's court. Her skin had grown pale and sallow and she had a haunted look to her eyes. In all her twenty-one years of life, Juliana had never known pain as she was feeling in those months. Her heart felt as if someone had torn it from her breast; all that was left was the gaping hole where it had once belonged.

"Juliana," a young woman, no older than eighteen winters, ran into Juliana's chambers hurriedly. "Juliana, come quick, the queen is in pain!"

Juliana turned from the window that she had been staring out of longingly. The eight months which she had spent within these walls had felt worse than any time she had spent at the convent. Her hallow eyes stared at the young messenger before her as her mind slowly took in the words.

"Is she in labor?" Juliana questioned.

"I…I think she might." The girl stuttered in reply, unnerved by the stare directed at her. "She is screaming something awful. The king is pacing like mad and will not let anyone but you into the room with them."

Moving faster than she had in months, Juliana hurried past the girl and flew down the hall towards Guinevere's chambers.

"Step aside." She ordered the guard that stood outside of the room. A pitiful wail filled the hall as the queen called out in pain. The guard quickly moved, allowing Juliana entrance.

"My lady," Juliana rushed into the room, closing the door swiftly behind her. She hurried to Guinevere's bedside and gripped the woman's sweat slick hand. Lying on the bed, Guinevere was paler than even Juliana. Her dark hair covered the pillows in damp curls. Her breathing was labored and face contorted as another pain shot through her. She screamed, gripping Juliana's hand so tightly in hers that the young woman felt as if her fingers would snap.

"Breathe, Guinevere." Juliana calmly ordered the pained queen. She gently wiped the hair off Guinevere's forehead, her fingers becoming coated in sweat. "You must breathe or the pains will be worse."

Behind her, Juliana sensed Arthur pacing the length of the room. He had not acknowledged Juliana when she entered, but had meekly moved away from his wife's bedside so that Juliana could try and give comfort where Arthur could not.

"I think it is time to call for the midwife." Juliana said, her voice rose slightly so as to be heard over Guinevere's pained breathing.

The midwife was sent for and a stout woman, her gray and thinning hair piled sharply atop her head and who was missing five of her yellow teeth arrived barely fifteen minutes later. She was panting with the exertion that running to the queen's chambers had caused, but she took no time to catch her breath as she immediately started ordering Juliana around and pushed Arthur roughly out of the room.

The day drug on as Juliana did whatever Octavia, the midwife, ordered her to do. She fetched water, placed cooling clothes on Guinevere's forehead, held the poor woman's hand as she suffered through contractions, and relayed news to Arthur who had resumed his pacing in front of Guinevere's door.

As the sun gently kissed the horizon later that afternoon, a pitiful wail filled the room and Juliana held the young prince out to his mother. Watching Guinevere with her new born son, Juliana couldn't stop the wanting that filled her. Arthur entered the room and rushed to his wife's side. As the happy family greeted their new child, Juliana felt an unstoppable yearning take root in her breast. This was what she wanted: a family, a husband and child who loved her as much as she loved them. Tears pricked at her eyes as she remembered how she had thrown away that chance the se

cond that she turned her back on Galahad.

Go to him.

The voice carried in the wind that ruffled the bed hangings. All her years Juliana had dreamed of hearing God's voice, wondered what he would say to her. And now she knew.

Go to him. Show him the love that I show you.

Juliana closed her eyes, drinking in the words. No matter how much she wished that these were God's words, doubt assailed her. Could it be simply her own longing that bade her to go to Galahad?

Show him love, pure as the love I give you.

This was surely God speaking. Satan would cry for another love to be shown. Only God would ask her to show love in the purest sense possible.

Her mind made up, Juliana stole silently from the room, leaving the new family to rejoice in private.

The news had traveled throughout the court, there was an heir to Camelot's throne. Galahad looked up from brushing the straw from his mare's coat to listen to the messenger sent to deliver the news to everyone he could find. Happy for his king and queen, Galahad couldn't help but feel resentful that they had something that he wished he could. But Juliana had stolen that from him. He knew that Juliana was the only woman he could possibly have wanted to spend the rest of his life with. And now that Juliana no longer wanted anything to do with him, Galahad was certain he would never have a wife or children of his own.

"Galahad?" A familiar voice tore him from his bitter thoughts. Galahad turned slowly to see her standing in the door of the stable. He hadn't laid eyes on her for so long and his heart sped up as she slowly walked towards him.

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