Arthur and Vivienne gasped and choked as the cold sensation of wine trickling down their faces effectively doused their rendezvous against a wall. Without speaking to one another, they righted their clothing and glanced back at each other. The tell-tale red of the wine stained her low cut pastel ball gown would surely arouse suspicion, and his chainmail was still dripping.
"I'm going back in," he announced, turning away from her, readying himself for the inevitable gossip that would circulate after being seen walking back into the rose- decorated foyer with a known flirt of the Cornish court, both of them covered in wine. But Vivienne, shocked at his sudden dismissal of her, would not be thrown away. "Prince Arthur," she whined "I have not finished with you yet." He looked back at her sympathetically. "I know, but we cannot stay out much longer; someone already knows we're here, and it wouldn't look good at all of we were found. Not at a function like this." Still not satisfied, she resigned herself to throw him one last disdainful look, and patter back in to the house, ignoring all the disapproving looks thrown at her by the older generation of courtiers.
Prince Arthur didn't think himself much of a flirt. True, he had mistresses like Arabella, and dalliances with women such as Vivienne, but they were few and far between- whatever his father might have thought. He was certainly not as bad as any of the other knights- who were known to regularly visit the homes of loose women when they were in Camelot. In fact he thought that it was rather vulgar, paying women to use their bodies. Although, Arabella couldn't expect him to be faithful to her, not when she was just a mistress, and there were other ladies of the court who caught his attention.
Back in the hall, people were beginning to pack up and turn in for the night. The dancers were performing their final routines, and the orchestra was playing its last symphonies. The King and Cador, having spent most of the evening trying not to let their conversation escalate into a confrontation about the past, and the rest in an uneasy and frosty silence, now began to make their final rounds of the nobles and revellers- the Duke promising to give messages of condolences to the Lady Guinevere for her sick condition- and on her birthday of all days! Just as the ball room began to quiet, and people began to depart, a wine- soaked Vivienne burst through the doors, and in a moment lacking in wisdom, announced "The Prince of Camelot is an inept lover." Everyone present was thrown into a moment of a horrid, uneasy silence. The Duke and Uther stared at their shoes, each trying not to catch the other's gaze, and the nobles slowly turned to look at one another, their eyes making up for a lack in conversation. Her red stained clothes and her messed hair were verifying the statement, especially when the Prince in question stormed through the doors, his chain mail still not clean, and his normally blonde hair taking on a pinkish tinge. He looked on, bemused, as the gaze of the masses turned to him, some of the most spiteful of the crowd looking at each other and muttering and chuckling.
But that was nothing compared with the storms raging in the eyes of the King and the Duke. Arabella looked on from behind the dais on which the heads of state had dined; a cruelly amused smile on her face. She didn't care- already having been labelled a scarlet woman (perhaps too literally now), that people knew she had it on with the Prince. He deserved it for not satisfying my needs.
The Duke cleared his throat "Erm… thank you Vivienne," he began awkwardly, "The feast is over, so many thanks for the party from Camelot for, erm, dining with us, and celebrating the Lady Guinevere's birthday, and may you all have a happy and safe trip home. Goodnight all."
Not one of his better speeches admittedly, but no one manages to improvise wonders of words when under such pressures. Slowly, the crowd of nobles and servants began to dissipate, and the still befuddled Prince made his way over to his father- who hadn't lost the frankly terrifying look in his eyes, and the Lady Morgana (who found the situation so very amusing, she was trying not to laugh out loud).
"Arthur," Uther growled, "We talk later." The Prince felt his heart rise to his throat. Whenever his father said they needed to talk, he was usually in for serious sanctions.
Freya however, furious with Vivienne for displaying herself in such a light, flounced back up to her sister's room. How dare that little oik show up Cornwall like that. The long walk to Guinevere's chambers did nothing to calm her nerves, and she walked in to see her sister curled into a foetal position, her eyes devoid of any emotion whatsoever.
"I'm not marrying him, Frey," Guinevere muttered.
"I understand," Freya replied gently.
Uther, however, was not staying in such a calm and tranquil mood. He stormed back to the guest room, his son and ward tottering behind, both quiet, as they knew that his temper was not one to be reckoned with. He strode through the door, and slammed it shut, before remembering that his two children were on the other side. Arthur padded in softly, his eyes not leaving the floor.
"Why did you do that? DID I not tell you that YOU ARE FORMALLY ENGAGED to the Lady Guinevere? And yet you chose to toy with this harlot, and let people tip wine over you whilst you were at it? Did I NOT say?" The Prince was alarmed by his father's second sentence though.
"Engaged to her, engaged to her?" he blustered angrily, "Why, there were many suitors here for her! What about Bayard's son, or Pellinore from the Northern regions? You only told me that I might be engaged from her, but judging by the sheer number of Princes here, I think that I might not be the only one!"
The King steeled himself, prepared to drop the bombshell, "You were engaged to her, it was arranged between the Duke and myself this evening." The Prince halted, his mouth hanging open dumbly, but his father continued, "This alliance would have brought incalculable wealth and prosperity to Camelot, but you have ruined it. The Duke may not be so happy to have you for his niece's husband now."
The Prince stared in a shocked manner. A womaniser he might be, but he would gladly do anything to pull his people out of their current state of poverty- even if it meant marriage, even if it meant changing his policies on magic to suit those of the more moderate Duke, for he knew that the Lady Guinevere's husband would inherit Cornwall; an enormous land with a colossal army, huge wealth and connections outside of the Lands of Albion. Still frustrated at the Prince's behaviour, the King exited the chamber, and he was left to ponder the fate of his people alone.
The next morning, the party from Camelot were bid farewell. They had intended to stay for longer, but the King had had a message from sentries along his border that Joseph, King of Arimathea was encroaching, with a large army. Whether this was planned as a military message, Uther didn't know, but he did know that he had to leave immediately to prepare the army, in case there was to be a conflict or battle. He was to leave angry, disappointed that he didn't get a chance to ask the Duke whether the alliance and marriage would go ahead as planned- Cador had been avoiding him all morning. He wasn't the only one who was agitated by the trip.
Lady Morgana, a woman whom had been so excited about meeting the Lady Guinevere, was vexed to have to go without this introduction. The higher ranking nobles of the Cornish court lined the steps, in order to see their guests away safely, but many of the Ladies just wanted the chance to scrutinise the Prince, and work out if he was as 'inept' as Vivienne said he was. As the carriages pulled away, there was one person who was certainly not sad to see them go. Guinevere watched from her chamber window, and decided that she had to speak with the Duke about her betrothal.
She pulled herself up from the bed, and began the long walk to her uncle's study. The moment she stepped out of her chamber door, she noticed that people were staring at her. Nonsense, she thought, I don't have anything to do with this. But the more she walked, the more it embarrassed her. Every turn and every passage was filled with gossiping and giggling courtiers. She felt her cheeks redden and her eyes well up as she realised why they were muttering. Of course. The Prince, he fiancé, was copulating with the Lady Vivienne. Her old friend. She could imagine what they were saying- how the Prince was so uninterested in her that he went for Vivienne. This incessant low murmur followed her like a plague, until eventually, she turned on her heel and headed for Freya's chambers instead.
********Cador sat at his desk with his head in his hands. Vivienne sat opposite him, a look of defiance prominent upon her face.
"Your behaviour was disgraceful," the Duke began, "I honestly don't know how you managed to make such a fool of yourself. Any other Lady would have hung her head in shame at being used in such a manner, yet you decide to flaunt it? And in front of our royal guests?" Vivienne shrugged, unmoved by the Duke's words.
"She stole Gawain from me." It was such a simple sentence, yet it plunged the Duke into all his past memories; ones which he would rather have forgotten.
"She didn't steal him, Vivienne. He fell in love with her."
"Love her," Vivienne scoffed "He didn't love her, he loved me. She just flirted with him and stole him away from me because she was jealous."
"Like you did yesterday with Prince Arthur?" questioned the Duke lightly. He had grown quite fed up with Vivienne's behaviour, and had now decided to act on his irritation.
"She didn't love him, he didn't love her. I wanted to let her know what betrayal feels like. How it hollows you, how it stings. She deserved it. I only wish it had hurt her more." The Duke felt his anger reach boiling point, and decided not to beat around the bush any longer.
"I've arranged for you to leave for the court at Tintagel,"
Vivienne looked up, astonished. Tintagel was the main court in Cornwall. With literally thousands of courtiers, it boasted the largest attending court in the Lands of Albion- the Leodegraces being the most powerful family. Yet it was known for its stuffiness, many of the courtiers being very orthodox and old fashioned- certainly not a place for women like Vivienne to live in peace. She would be snubbed and labelled and ignored- and the Duke hoped that she would learn a lesson, and then be admitted back into Hartington House; for this wasn't the first time she had seduced a visiting dignitary and boasted about it.
Cador dismissed her, sending a servant to help her pack her bags, and went back to his work- but not before he left a message with Anne, asking her to let Guinevere know that he wished to speak with her about her betrothal.
********Guinevere had comforted herself with the determination to rid her life of Arthur Pendragon once and for all. This wouldn't be the first time that she had been engaged to him. Only five years ago, Uther had sent message that his thirteen year old son would be entering the final stages of his training to become a knight- after he had done so, he would become eligible for a fiancée- though not yet a wife.
The Duke had wished to reconcile with Uther, after a large camp of druids had crossed his border to escape persecution. Despite their different views on the subject, Cador fervently hoped that a marriage between Lady Guinevere would help mellow his views- after all; she was the daughter of a just in on the idea for the money- it didn't matter to him that she was the daughter of a sorceress, in this case. But his hopes were dashed when the engagement fell through- as did many royal engagements of the time. Elena of Gawant was made a prospective bride after Guinevere, but the Prince was rather put off by her ungainly table habits, and took it upon himself to call off the wedding.
There was a knock on the door, and Cador bid his niece enter. After the events of the feast the previous evening, he wasn't surprised when she simply said, "I'm not marrying him uncle. Don't ask me why; I think you know."
He chose to leave it at that, and employed Sanliere to relay the message to the King of Camelot. To be honest, he felt relieved that she wasn't marrying him- he seemed a fool to put it lightly. But, the Duke supposed, most women would not have the luxury of being able to call of the engagement because of their future husbands' affairs. Most women would just have to live with the marital fidelity. In fact, most women did anyway simply to obey their parents and husbands. The Duke scoffed lightly; since when has Guinevere ever been like most women? She was always different.
All these engagements had worried Lady Viola- the Duke's mother, who kept court alongside the Duchess at Tintagel. She was a tall, grand woman in her early seventies, who always wore dark, rustling silk gowns, which contrasted nicely with her pale skin.
"Elizabeth," Viola said to her one morning, whilst they were having tea in one of the music rooms, "You must find Guinevere a husband. Pendragon's gone now, but it still leaves Cornwall without an effective heir. The people will need time to adjust to her husband before he rules. There's no doubt about it- she must marry soon."
The Duchess acknowledged this with a nod of her head. Of course she knew that Guinevere would have to marry soon. The question was who? Who would she marry?
"What about Ector?" As if she could read her mind, Viola began suggesting names.
The Duchess shook her neatly curled and pinned head. "Too dangerous."
"Lord Bayard of Mercia?"
"Too old."
"Thomas of Lyonesse?"
"Too young."
"William of Norgales?"
"Too stupid."
"Joseph of Arimathea?"
The Duchess stopped in her tracks. Joseph of Arimathea- why hadn't she thought of him before? He may be a little eccentric, but he wasn't so dangerous that he would endanger Cornwall or her niece. At least, that's what she thought.
********And things were not faring much better for Arthur in Camelot. The affair with Vivienne had supposed to be kept quiet- so naturally by the time they arrived back in Camelot, everyone knew. Like Guinevere in Hartington, Arthur had to endure the stares and mutterings of the royal court at Camelot, which if possible, were worse. The knights and lords all thought it was terribly amusing, particularly those of the Prince's generation; the older courtiers were less impressed by his behaviour. Whilst many of them had mistresses of their own, they believed that extramarital affairs had to be kept incredibly private- and they certainly would have conducted their affairs right beneath the window of a girl with a pitcher of wine.
He reached his chambers, and slammed the door shut. Hardly to his surprise, he found Arabella standing there. The look on his face allowed him to guess that she had heard about the Lady Vivienne, and was, well, not heartbroken- she didn't love him, but worried for her position as his mistress.
"I'm sorry, Arabella," he began, "But you weren't there, and I got lonely." Arabella twitched her head to the side. You weren't there.
"You would have chosen me if I was there? Instead of that other woman?" She questioned him lightly.
"You know I would have." Arabella smirked, comfortable in the thought that he still valued her body above any other woman's. They smiled at each other awkwardly and embraced.
The Prince was confused. Yes, he knew that she didn't love him, but he was disappointed that she hadn't made more of a fuss. It meant that she wasn't jealous. Did that mean… that she didn't mind who he copulated with… as long as he kept her… and financially supported her? Worried that he was thinking too much of it, he gently excused himself, and readied himself for the evening patrol.
Sanliere had arrived early the next morning with the Duke's message; that he was calling off the marriage with Camelot. The short, balding, portly ambassador relayed the news in a monotonous, boring voice. Uther, naturally, was furious about the repercussions of his son's behaviour.
"Can nothing be done?" he demanded of the Cornish ambassador.
"I'm afraid no, Sire," Sanliere replied, "The Duke is a proud man who has taken slight. He wishes for the betrothal between your son and his niece to be called off immediately. Lady Guinevere herself believes that she and the Prince would fail to be happy together. However, of the military understanding between the two kingdoms, the Duke assures you that his army will be at your disposal, provided that he is certain it will not provoke any of his other allies."
This was some small consolation for Uther, who had just this morning, been preparing for the conflict with Joseph of Arimathea. He had guessed that the Duke would not want Prince Arthur inheriting Cornwall- not with his womanizing ways; being sly and crafty, he had just requested the presence of the ambassador of Nemeth the following day, with issues concerning the Princess Mithian. Well, if he could not marry his son to the Lady Guinevere, he would just have to find the next most powerful Princess. He knew that the marriage between Arthur and Mithian would be something that the Nemethian King Rodor would want more than anything. Even though it had been only a couple of since the Prince's last betrothal, Uther was keen to see his son married off quickly, and with a royal heir before the conflict involving Arimathea spread any further; Uther particularly worried about sending his son to battle without a child, or at least a pregnant wife- he did not want to think of the Pendragon dynasty ending too soon. He pulled out his chair and sat, head in hands, worry filling his heart. Joseph of Arimathea was only eighteen; the same age as Arthur in fact, but he was strong willed and strong minded. He was certain that he could conquer Camelot, and free the people from the tyranny of Uther (but in so doing, expose them to his own tyranny). He had amassed allies including Caradoc of Sorestan, and Bedivere of Lambole; Uther didn't know whether all the allies he had would match that of Arimathea, and that was why he needed allies. A marriage with Nemeth would not only give the possibility of a second in line to the throne, but military help. As to Cador's promise, Uther knew that he would not get involved; he had allies himself that were allies with Arimathea.
This time, if there would be an engagement, he would have to deal with Arabella. He already knew that the woman was a flirt and a gossiper, and he didn't want anything endangering this alliance. It would not be easy working out where to send her, and even more difficult to explain the situation to Arthur when he inevitably came to demand where his mistress had been sent.
One other who had heard about the affair with Vivienne was Sir Bors, who once again began to panic about his daughter's position. Was this… wine affair going to put the Prince off having a mistress altogether? Had he truly enjoyed the attentions of this other woman?
Just then, Arabella walked through the chamber doors, her face somewhere between a sneer and a grimace.
"Does the Prince still find your attentions to his satisfaction?" Bors demanded, eager to find out whether he still requested her presence at night.
"He does, Father. We have not been intimate since he returned, but he had evening patrol last night. It was understandable that he should not have time."
"I still fear for your position, Arabella. The Prince is a powerful man. You must not let any other woman replace you in his bed." Arabella nodded. She understood how important this is- if he stopped supporting her financially, or replaced her with another woman, she would be scorned at court and financially impoverished. Her Father no longer served as a knight, and had only enough income to support himself. She relied on the Prince too much to lose his favour.
Unexpectedly, there came a knock upon the door. Arabella looked uncertainly at her father, and then proceeded to open it. To her further surprise, there was a guard outside, requesting to take her to the King. Arabella froze. The King had never called upon her before- but she knew that he knew she was his son's mistress. Still overcome with shock and trepidation, Arabella allowed him to escort her to the council chambers, where she found the King standing, his back to her, his eyes glancing outside the window. After what felt like an eternity of waiting, he turned to face her. His facial expression was far from friendly, and Arabella's feeling of fear doubled.
"Lady Arabella," he began, "it has come to my attention that you have shared a somewhat… intimate past with the Prince." Arabella nodded to show the affirmative, but felt even more terrified than before. Not noticing this, he continued, "The unfortunate fact is, that after your indiscretion regarding this… affair, you have failed to remain silent." Her heart rose to her throat; perhaps she shouldn't have gossiped and bragged? Still, the King ignored her uneasiness and ploughed on. "I know that the Prince has been seeing you for some time now, and finds your attentions to his satisfaction. But that does not change the fact that too many people know, and it is beginning to do some serious damage to his reputation."
"Sire, are you requesting that I and the Prince end our affair?"
"No; it is too late for that. Like I have just said, too many people know."
"I am not understanding you Sire." Arabella was highly confused by now, and Uther decided that he was to beat around the bush no longer.
"I mean, Lady Arabella, that you must leave," Arabella's horror reached its peak, and she had to try and fight the tears back. "I have arranged for you to stay at King Ursien's court in the Summer County." At this point, Arabella really did let the tears flow from her eyes. "What of the Prince, Sire? Surely he will not be pleased when he realises my disappearance!" Uther rolled his eyes in distaste. "My son is no longer your business," Arabella made to speak again, but the King cut her to it, "I will have someone inform your father, you are to leave shortly." And with those words, and a swish of his long, navy- blue coat, Uther left the hall, leaving Arabella flummoxed, and very, very upset.
