22 Expatriates
Angus fidgeted.
He did not like it.
He did not like it one bit.
First Uther, now Arthur – who had decreed that to bring a wayward Pendragon into exile was an inbred duty of the Branguard family?
Angus felt so very awkward, really, it was too embarrassing.
Next time, if Arthur should find some more family members to get rid of, Angus would categorically refuse.
He would.
Arthur had made the Branguard brothers hereditary Dukes of Cornwall on Duke Marke's demise, so one should think the King would show them some respect!
Honestly, King or no King, Angus would refuse.
He really would.
But then, as Arthur had hardly any family left, perhaps there was no need to…..
He absolutely had to talk it through with Malcolm. Perhaps Malcolm would tell the King that Angus refused? Yes, that was better, Malcolm was so good with words ….
Thank Gods…. no, thank God, of course - damn, he had to remember that, it was as important as it was idiotic, and that was embarrassing, too – his younger brother appeared on the top stair of the castle, kindly lending the Lady his hand for support.
Dear Malcolm. Always kind, always the gentleman. And so clever. Naturally, as the elder brother Angus was his superior in all things, but that did not mean he could not appreciate his baby brother's qualities, did it?
"Here, let me help you" Angus said as soon as Malcolm had done everything that needed doing, and, as usual, Malcolm thanked his brother most kindly for the superfluous offer.
"My Lord, would you want to keep me company?" Guinivere asked Malcolm from the coach's inside, and thereby she made both Branguard brothers very happy, the younger because he got rid of his brother, the elder because he got rid of her.
Angus found his ride through the clear, cold winter air most refreshing, as did Malcolm when it came to the prospect of some clear minded conversation.
Unlike his elder brother, Malcolm could handle sensitive and awkward, but not stupid.
For Angus, it was just the other way round.
"The King asked me to give you his regards, My Lady" Malcolm told Guinivere when they were safely under way. "He trusts that you would prefer a quiet departure. He'll meet you in your new home in a week's time, to make sure that you are comfortable."
Guinivere winced in uncomfortable surprise. "Is that wise?" she asked alarmed. She coughed immediately. "I mean, with a train, half a mile long, full of the best Camelot can offer, how could anyone be uncomfortable? The Abbess will think I'll join her order with a trousseau, like a blushing bride."
And right enough, she did blush like a childish girl, because Malcolm smiled, in a most understanding, very comforting way.
There never was any fooling the man. He knew she had been talking of temptation, if it should happen in a nunnery or in a cottage made no difference.
"Usually I would not dream of breaking the King's trust" Malcolm said. "But under the circumstances….. Let's be frank with each other, Guinivere, while we still can. Arthur does not accept this separation, not as a fact in real life I mean. As far as he is concerned, this is a charade, for the sake of the realm, nothing more. As a King he will choose a new Queen when the day comes, as a man, he considers you his lawful wife, and that will not change until the day he dies."
"But that is …. impossible, the Abbess….. the Bishop …. I am going to a convent…under the pretence of wishing for a religious life in solitude…."
"Forgive me, My Lady, but to Arthur the word convent has as much meaning now as the word mésalliance had when he first courted you. The King regards the place as something of a holiday resort for Ladies. He said so to the Abbess, and was most astonished when the worthy Lady faked a fainting fit."
Gwen chuckled, covered her mouth with her hand, looked at Malcolm who for once had trouble keeping his features straight, and finally she laughed out loud. "Oh my God, he did not, not really, did he? Tell the Abbess that he will come to sleep with me, in her convent, even after he has been remarried? Oh my God, no!"
"He did, I was present. I had the time of my life, I assure you. I knew he never listened to Severinus' boring ramblings, but that Arthur should have completely and totally ignored every single word any priest has ever said to him, that was news to me. Heavens, it was a pity you could not be there, I've often thought that Arthur is adorable, but never as much as I did then."
"But the Bishop…."
"That's exactly what the Abbess said as soon as she had sufficiently recovered. Or perhaps I should say, she shrieked it. 'Your Majesty is forgetting His Eminence' she squealed, like those cute little piglets that undoubtedly fill some of my many stables 'the holy Bishop will never allow such atrocities.'Arthur shrugged and said 'If you don't tell him, I won't. I'm offering you 12.000 silver coins worth of revenue for your convent, in addition to the annual stipend My Lady Guinivere will have at her disposal for her wellbeing and comfort.'" Malcolm grinned devilish when he said the last bit.
"What did the Abbess do?" Gwen asked breathlessly.
"Faint. This time for real. Took the King and me ten minutes to revive her."
"It is a King's ransom" Gwen panted as soon as she had come out of another laughing fit. "An outrageous sum of money for an outrageous demand."
"My Lady Abbess is a true Christian" Malcolm drawled. "I certainly do not know anyone who's more dedicated to true Christian charity. But she's got so many responsibilities. It's just her bad luck that, while Jesus fed the many with so little, her honest faith does buy her neither bread nor herrings."
"I do not follow you" Guinivere said, frowning.
"Our's is a cruel world" Malcolm replied, without humour or sarcasm this time. "One has to consider that the Abbess comes from an old and distinguished but sadly impoverished family. She has the care of six unmarried younger sisters who have no dowry. Many a young girl presently getting an education at the convent's expense shares that fate. My Lady Abbess can be a parsimonious old hag at times, but she has a good heart, and many good people depend on it. The King could spend his money on less deserving purposes. He chose well, in my opinion, very well."
"Arthur chose?" Gwen asked with some mild irony.
"Forgive me, My Lady, a slip of the tongue. As the King's most humble servant, I took the liberty of keeping His Majesty informed on the kind of company you had chosen for yourself!"
Gwen hiccupped. "And Severinus?" she then asked.
"All he ever offered to the Lady Abbess in her plight was a word of advice: That women should accept their fate in modesty and humility, so that no sin of vanity…"
"…. should ever come to them" Gwen said in chorus with her counterpart "I know, I remember His Eminence's favourite sermon only too well."
Suddenly she winced, smoothed a non-existing wrinkle in her dress with her hand and looked out of the window, at the wintry landscape covered in snow and ice.
"My Lady should not trouble herself with such dark thoughts" Malcolm said after a moment of silence. "There is no reason to pity your successor to the Queen Consort's Crown, I've taken care of that."
Gwen stared at him with wide eyes. "Gaius was sure that all magic had been taken from our world. And now you are reading my thoughts My Lord?"
"No magic needed, you are, if you pardon me, a bit transparent at times. You and Arthur have a lot in common when it comes to unnecessary self-reproach. Your thoughts and guilty conscience were written all over your face."
"Were they? So, if you are that very wise, Malcolm Branguard, what was I thinking about the next Queen of Camelot?"
"That she is to be pitied. Which she is not. If she were, I'd never given the plan my blessing. I'm obliged to the Lady, much obliged."
"You're making me curious My Lord. Who is that wonder-woman?"
"My unfortunate wife!"
Malcolm said it with a serene smile, his hands folded contentedly over his belly, which with the years had grown together with his wealth and influence. As had his chin, that wobbled comfortably above his diamond-crested collar. He was as calm as you please.
Guinivere, however, was rendered speechless.
"You see, there will be no such thing as 'a year and a day'" Malcolm explained patiently. "Arthur is going to marry the Lady Gwendolyn the moment our divorce is legally valid."
As Guinivere was still dumbfounded, he went on "Becoming a Christian wasn't easy for me. Alas, with the Old Religion no longer a player in the game - No crucifix, no Cornwall. Now there's Angus, poor man, with his terrible fright of hellfire and eternal damnation, he hardly ever gives me some peace. 'What if there is some truth in it, purgatory and what not, Malcolm' he says, and why shouldn't he? He is what he is, but he loves me as a brother should. However, neither celibacy nor monogamy do appeal to me, never did."
"So Gwendolyn is going to divorce you on the grounds of your adultery?"
"On the contrary, My Lady Guinivere, I am going to divorce her because of hers."
"Malcolm, I think you've lost me again."
"On my return to Camelot, after I safely delivered you to your beloved convent and a life of simple contemplation, I will inform my brother Angus that the King has offered a terrible affront to the Branguard name. My wife is with child, and Arthur is the father. Gwendolyn was in tears when she confessed it to me, beside herself with remorse and guilt. Naturally Angus will know no restraint, he'll confront the King, throw down the gauntlet, his wrath will put the torch to all of Camelot!"
"In public?"
Malcolm smirked. "In private, I'll have to make sure of that. But do not worry, there will be idle tongues present, more than enough to have every gossiper of the town waging his or hers come nightfall. And what a fine juicy piece they'll have to describe."
Branguard now virtually giggled with glee. "Arthur will look at the gauntlet, tears in his eyes. His Majesty will fall to his knees, beg for My Lord Duke's forgiveness, promise him the world for it – which will cost Arthur nothing, as the Branguards have already got half of Camelot, it's actually impossible to give away the other half. And, last but by no means least, Arthur will offer his hand in marriage to the Lady Gwendolyn, which would of course mean that the child will be born a Pendragon. Arthur will have his new Gwen, Angus will be uncle to a Crown Prince. Well, kind of. He'll love it, don't you think?"
"I'm not sure I can think right now" Guinivere muttered, fumbling her fur coat.
"Then leave it to me for a while, my dear. Severinus will have no choice, that's the best of it. If he refuses a legal annulment of my marriage, he is responsible for endangering Gwendolyne's and the unborn child's immortal soul by forcing her to give birth to a bastard, whom I would never accept under my roof."
"Does his Eminence see it that way?"
"He will. I had one of the most eminent Roman lawyers write up an expert opinion to that effect, it drips with seals and signatures."
"A Roman lawyer?"
"Who happens to live in Mercia, but His Eminence does not know that. Severinus will accidentally find the document in one of his archives, as he will undoubtedly search through them like a hungry rat through the empty larder in his predicament."
"I never knew you dislike your wife."
"Wrong again. I love Gwendolyn, very much. But I cannot find it in me to be faithful to her. I tried and I failed, it must have been a hundred times. She showed the world a brave face, she pretended stupidity, was loyal to me when I was never loyal to her. Her kids are mine, she never betrayed me. I gave her money, titles, houses and estates – but the one thing she really craved she found for herself. Arthur has been her friend and confidant, for many a year. He needs a cover for you, and I owe it to Gwendolyn to make her the beneficiary of it. They both need a new life with someone they can trust."
"And the child?"
"Is mine. A perfect solution. When Galahad's …. lack of physical talents will become known, Arthur will have a perfect younger son and heir apparent. I do not doubt that Galahad, intelligent, kind-hearted Galahad, will be a loyal brother and advisor to the next High King of Albion. One Pendragon for the chainmail, one for the monk's frock. It'll fool them all."
Malcolm leaned back into his seat and grinned, very pleased with his own shrewdness. "Ironic, isn't it? Arthur and Morgana took Camelot with the help of the Old Religion, but countless generations afterwards will remember the Once and Future King for his Christian piety. Was there ever any religion that did not build its temples on the wreck and ruin of another's?"
Guinivere shivered. This was no longer funny. "Why should that be?" she asked boldly. "Galahad is but a boy and the other one not even born."
"It shall be because the King of Camelot and I will say so" Malcolm said. "Arthur is the best King Camelot has ever had, he is Albion's future, and after him comes our son."
"What if it is a girl?"
"My Gwendolyn is not in the habit of giving birth to girls."
"You're tempting fate, Malcolm. You talk of it as if it was your oyster. The Gods have a tendency to ridicule our efforts."
He answered in mocked earnest "I'm a good Christian, My Lady Guinivere. I do not listen to such superstitious old women's talk. And you, with your permission, are far too young and beautiful to say such things!"
On impulse, Malcolm dropped his somewhat supercilious ironic attitude, leaned towards her once more and took her ice cold hand. "Trust me, Gwen. There aren't many of your old friends left to you, but I will always be among them. Arthur has made the Branguards second to none but him. If I betrayed him, I'd betray myself. Trust me, and I swear I won't disappoint you."
"You frighten me, Malcolm. More than that, such assumption is terrifying. You sound like Uther."
"Uther brought strength when he took Camelot with his sword. Arthur and I will bring peace for generations to come, when we take all Albion with law and justice. When the Isle of the Blessed gave way, the Church was ready for the taking. What do you prefer, a free world or an age of just another superstition's slavery?"
"I don't know. I've seen people's faces whilst in prayer, some yawned but others were .… fascinated. It frightened me, this …. complete devotion, and at the same time, I envied them. How can anyone know what his fellow man wants?"
"I do know. A full belly, peace and prosperity, some entertainment and people who keep trouble away. That's all they want."
"Then why strive for power and position? Why would someone as rich and secure as you still strive for anything at all? What do you want, Malcolm of Branguard?"
He squeezed her hand, and his eyes seemed to shine, as if lit by some inner fire. "A Crown Prince for Albion, a Branguard by blood, a Pendragon in name and spirit! No dynasty could rise higher. Who gives a shit for Severinus' parsimonious babbling? Arthur and I will have a kind of immortality this dimwit blatherskite can't dream of."
Guinivere looked at his enraptured face and knew no word of her would weaken his belief. He saw the world he strove to bring about, as if it already existed. As if nothing and nobody could keep it out of his reach.
"I thank you" she said. "I know you are Arthur's friend. It's just that I'm…. I'm tired, I don't know how…"
In front of her eyes, he morphed back into the slick-tongued Courtier with the perfect manners; the man for all occasions, rich, careless and somewhat shallow, the person that many unwise people saw when they looked at him. "Of course, My Lady. Where are my manners? Rest, and rest assured that all will be well."
Like a much younger, much more agile and slender man, he swung himself out of the coach and into the saddle. To talk of his plans, to have a willing audience for them, had stimulated, had virtually energized him. With a last smile he was gone at a jaunty trot, to join his elder brother at the top of the cavalcade.
Gwen buried herself under her fur coat and blankets and closed her eyes.
Unwanted and uncalled, a memory came to her, from long ago. A Council Meeting's aftermath, Gaius and one of the Druid Elders quarrelling. Some shreds of their heated argument had been disconcerting, although she did not understand it at the time…
"It has always been like this with you" the Druid had shouted "Algernon, and your precious Emrys, even Arthur – you all suffer of the same illness. Doubt. Doubt and questions. You and your 'buts' and 'ifs'….You believe in people - for pity's sake! - and in the frail powers of your own minds."
"We all believe in the Old Religion, where it is wise and for the good of mankind" Gaius had barked back. "It does not make us blind, that's all."
"You show no obedience to the Gods' will…."
"I have a will and a mind of my own, Revered Elder. If the King can live with that, I suggest you give it a try, too. And now excuse me!"
With these words, a very angry Gaius had taken his leave for this day. Gwen remembered how sorry she had felt, and how helpless. There had been tears in Alice's eyes later on, and for a while there had been talk that the Druid healers would no longer come to Gaius' seminar.
Gwen had not even known what it had all been about.
She was not sure she knew it now, but for one thing:
There was no room for doubt in Malcolm of Branguard. His faith in himself and in what he wanted to achieve was like armour around his soul, impenetrable for logic or fear.
And suddenly, quite out of the blue, she thought that, whatever their intentions were, people with no room for doubt and questions in their heads were the most frightening of all.