Previously in The Exile:
Arthur Chapter 18, Two Roads
Arthur brought his hand to Guinevere's ring, stroked the warm metal between his thumb and forefinger. The rage receded, the sea grew calm. He saw the churned muddied earth for what it was footprints, lots of footprints, rank upon rank of them and then the most brutal pain knifed through his skull. Arthur gasped and his eyes watered, his vision blurred round the edges. He staggered two or three steps while the world did somersaults before collapsing face first in the dirt as his bowels voided themselves.
The Exile, Part II Jenafere, Chapter XIX: A Shadow and A Threat
Gwen begins to get the feeling that something is wrong in Camelot and Ylsa goes to Matilde for answers.
Gwen opened her eyes. The pale rays of early morning sun poured in behind her slanting across the rough planks of wooden floor. She could see nothing but the wattle and daub walls of Tesni and Alun's home and errant dust bunnies yet the hairs on her golden brown arms and the back of her neck were pricking upwards as if there was some horror in the room with her. Gwen sat up and looked around searching the early morning dark for a sign of, anything.
She saw only the bed Tesni and Alun slept in with their children, Ylsa sleeping soundly in her pallet and the same for Mrs. Heulwen.
After delivering the triplets neither she nor Ylsa wanted to walk back to the townhouse. Mrs. Heulwen had laid out pallets for them on the floor and both she and Ylsa had stripped to their chemises in the dark before lying down to sleep.
Now Gwen pulled on her dress and hurried outside certain that there was something. She saw only the empty street fingers of golden sun spilling down the road as the birds began their early morning song and a warm breeze stirred the leaves of trees. She looked east and then west. The pricking sensation grew to a sense of dread yet there was nothing in the street but a few pieces of litter. Gwen stared into the darkness, Camelot to the west.
The sun continued to climb, the city slowly stirred to life. The fisherman made their way down the street and the clop of hooves could be heard on the road as people began to arrive with goods for the market. Nothing happened, the hairs on the back of her neck and arms back down. Gwen went back into the house.
She had for once hoped she might sleep until late in the morning; she had certainly been exhausted when she finally laid down in her pallet last night. The rest of the household still slept and Gwen considered going back to the townhouse. No, she wanted to see what else Ylsa might do. She took her dress off and laid it back over the chair- they had draped the rest of their clothing on to prevent creases. Gwen laid back down. Perhaps if she stayed in bed she might fall asleep.
She looked toward the bed where the new family lay resting. The infants were making those tremulous noises that were somewhere between a gasp and a bleat but thankfully not crying. She did not envy them, three squalling infants, needing nursing and care. One infant was difficult enough but three seemed an impossible task. Ylsa said she had arranged help throughout the neighborhood. Gwen felt certain that Ylsa would make Tesni and her children her own responsibility for a while yet.
She rolled onto her side and looked at the midwife thinking of what Father Flaejer had said about the other woman. Ylsa really did seem to want to take care of the whole world. Were there others like Ylsa, gifted healers saving the lives of those that would otherwise be dead and living meager yet happy lives? Had Uther burned people like Ylsa at the stake?
Recalling how Ylsa had handled the bandit Gwen had some doubt as to whether or not someone with Ylsa's abilities would allow themselves to be burnt at the stake. She had the feeling that in a confrontation between Ylsa and Uther the midwife might well emerge victorious. But what about less powerful, less dynamic women? How had Uther actually accomplished the purge? Guinevere rolled over onto her back and stared up at the thatch ceiling. That it had been done was obvious but if people could use magic to create soldiers that would not die how had Uther managed the purge? How had that army been defeated?
There were those in Camelot who believed that Uther employed sorcerers in secret. That Sir Leon or Gaius were actually wizards. Gwen of course knew that was not true but Ylsa had said there was a magic user protecting Camelot and a powerful one at that.
"Ylsa?" She whispered the midwife's name. "Ylsa?"
She heard only the midwife's deep, even breathing in response to her inquiry. She'd have to ask Ylsa about this later, had the mysterious magic user been involved in the purge somehow?
Guinevere considered the sewing she had brought with her from the townhouse. Perhaps she should get up, get started with that, she could work and think at the same time. She didn't move, her mind drifted to the hostel, that beautiful building with its warm and lovely colors, the rooftop that seemed patterned after a Kente cloth.
What might it be like to go there every day and help sick people, nurse them, ease their sufferings and perhaps on occasion nurse them back to life? She wouldn't be able to remain at the infirmary when her education was completed, they had their physician. Perhaps she could continue to travel, find some little village where she would grow a garden and be paid in chicken and fish and wool and nurse people through meazlis and deliver every baby for miles around.
Perhaps she would marry, perhaps she wouldn't but she would have many friends at least. Sooner or later there would be an orphan because there were always orphans. She would take the orphan in and raise them and teach the child everything she knew about medicine so that the villages would always have a healer. She liked this idea, it didn't excite her like other fancies, didn't bring the same irrepressible smile to her lips as thoughts of being Arthur's queen and wife did, thoughts of making Camelot a better place but it was good, yes it was….
"Jen?"
"Hmmm?" She said opening her eyes and blinking sunlight beamed through the house now hot and golden. She had dozed a while.
"Are you awake?" Ylsa asked.
"Yes."
"You were a peasant back in Camelot right?"
"Yes," Gwen said with a frown. "Why?"
"Never mind just had a bizarre dream." Ylsa yawned and sat up. "Tesni, Alun are you awake?"
"Yes," Tesni murmured.
Gwen detected the smacking sound of an infant nursing and Ylsa got up from her pallet. She could hear Mrs. Heulwen moving about the house preparing breakfast. Gwen got to her feet and saw Alun and Tesni sitting up in bed. Tesni was nursing one of the infants and Alun held the other, gazing at the child with adoration. Ylsa took the third infant in her arms, Gwen assumed to give a more thorough examination than she had done the previous night.
"Ylsa if you don't need my help I'm going to help Mrs. Heulwen with breakfast."
"Thank you I'm starved," Ylsa replied.
Guinevere couldn't help but chuckle. Some things never changed.
"Ms. Jen," Alun looked up from the child in his arms his expression one of pure delight. "Come have a look at him?"
"Of course," Gwen smiled and crossed the space in a few steps.
"Gently Tesni," Ylsa said. "Ease the nipple into his little mouth, he'll latch right on."
Gwen leaned forward a bit. Looking on over Alun's shoulder as both watched, this important moment with baited breath. Gwen saw women nursing infants and small children every day; it was a common enough thing. But this quiet moment when a new mother feeds an infant for the first time was the most intimate of things and no matter how often repeated always special.
Tesni did as Ylsa directed. The nipple brown and beading with milk brushed the infant's lip. The child didn't react right away, but then he caught perhaps the scent or taste of milk cause in the next second his pink little mouth latched onto his mothers breast. There were pleased smiles all around except for Tesni who winced and grimaced.
"It will take some getting used." Ylsa reassured her.
"My little girl she's so smart, she latched on right away." Tesni started to smile.
"Every infant is different." Ylsa said and returned her attention to the infant in her arms.
Gwen watched the two of them, Tesni stroking the infant's tiny face, Alun watching them with an expression bordering on awe. How long ago since she'd left Camelot? Five months now, she sighed.
"Ms. Jen," Alun looked at her. "Would you like to hold him?"
She looked at father and son and felt an ache in her arms.
"I'm going to help prepare breakfast," she said. "I'm certain we are all hungry."
"Mhmmm," Tesni and Ylsa said in unison and Gwen ducked round the curtain.
Mrs. Heulwen was making porridge for breakfast with poached eggs. She put Gwen to work over the stove tending the eggs something she was happy to do. There were salt and herbs for the eggs, nutmeg and stewed apples for the porridge. Breakfast, while not as rich as Ms. Alfonsa's fare, smelled delicious.
"Have you been assisting Ylsa for very long?" Mrs. Heulwen asked.
"This is the first time."
"Oh." Mrs. Heulwen looked at her a moment. The older woman pursed her long thin mouth. She shared the same green eyes as her son but there was a hardness to them that Alun lacked.
"She allowed me to accompany her because she needed another pair of hands and I wanted to see her magic. I'd never seen magic like that before."
"No. It's a shame though all that magic and she couldn't have made sure Tesni had three boys."
"Three, boys?" Gwen said feeling somehow as if Mrs. Heulwen had groped her.
"Yes of course."
"But two is plenty." She knew that boys were often preferred but two healthy boys, three healthy infants, Tesni well, wasn't that plenty enough?
"Oh well of course but girls are such trouble, they're sly and lascivious and you have to provide them with a bride price."
Gwen listened with widened eyes while Mrs. Heulwen rattled on naming the long list of the problems with girl children. She was making up her mind to say something when the older woman called Ylsa and Alun over to eat. Gwen spooned up a bowl of porridge for Tesni adding stewed apples and nuts and serving of eggs for the new mother.
Gwen walked round the curtain that divided the tiny home.
"I brought you some breakfast," she said with a smile.
Tesni was cuddling one of the babies, cooing at the infant and smiling.
"Thank you."
Gwen leaned over the girl. The infant had unfocused blue eyes and a cap of slick black hair. She could not help but smile as she waited for Tesni to put the infant down.
"I wonder how long before we see what she truly looks like?" Tesni asked tucking the girl beside her brother.
"It will take a little while, perhaps even a few weeks."
"Oh."
Gwen placed the tray across Tesni's lap.
"Ms. Jen," Tesni whispered and closed a hand round Gwen's forearm before she could straighten up. "I do not care what my mother-in-law says. I love my daughter best."
"Good." Gwen said by way of reply.
"Jen are you going to come and eat?" Ylsa called.
"Of course," she replied. "Do you need anything else Tesni?"
"No, thank you Ms. Jen," Tesni smiled at her.
Gwen looked at the young mother and her infants for a long moment before going back around the curtain to her own breakfast.
"The infants are small but well formed," Ylsa said as Gwen sat down at the rough hewn table. "We are blessed in that as they will not require any special care."
The midwife broke off a piece her small loaf of rye bread in half and dipped into the yolk of her egg.
"And Tesni?" Alun asked.
Guinevere looked at the young husband. The lines in his brow, his eyes narrowed, he seemed to be holding his breath and his breakfast plate was untouched. Ylsa seemed to notice all of this in that moment as well. She pulled her attention from her meal and gave Alun's arm a squeeze above the wrist.
"Her labor was hard, the breech birth in particular, but" Ylsa smiled now her whole attention on Alun, "though she is exhausted, her body will recover as long as she is supported by her family."
Ylsa glanced at Mrs. Heulwen. The older women simply ate her meal without a word. The midwife sniffed and turned her attention back to her meal.
"May and Zang have agreed to come by and help out with Tesni's chores in the evening as well some of the other baby care, like bathing them."
"That's all well and good," Mrs. Heulwen looked up from her plate. "But what about nursing all these babies?" There was some challenge in Mrs. Heulwen's expression and Gwen frowned.
Ylsa took a deep breath and Gwen got the sense that there was no love lost between the two women.
"Susan and Ellis just lost babies to meazlis but are themselves healthy; they have agreed to help with nursing as have Gwendolyn and Ceri," the midwife said.
Mrs. Heulwen glared her nostrils flaring.
"I do not understand why anyone has agreed to help this slattern of a girl!"*
Gwen's eyes widened.
"How does a girl even become pregnant with three babies at once?" Mrs. Heulwen demanded.
Ylsa closed her eyes and let out a long slow breath before giving Mrs. Heulwen a hard look and Gwen stared at the older woman finally understanding her hostility. There were some not all but some who believed that two babies was a sign of infidelity that a man could only father one child and therefore the second child must have another father. Elyan had been a twin but the belief was not so common in Camelot and her mother had been spared those accusations.
"Mother," Alun glared at his mother across the table. "Tesni is a good and faithful wife. If Ms. Ylsa says that two or more babies is natural and healthy I believe her. We're going to do what Ms. Ylsa says."
"Even if that is true why are we keeping the girl-child?" The older woman asked. "They are nothing but trouble."
Gwen sucked in a shocked breath.
"Drop her on a church doorstep and be done with it," the older woman said
Alun shot a glance at Ylsa who gave him a firm nod.
Gwen got the distinct impression that they had been expecting some such statement from her.
"Mother-" There was a quaver in Alun's voice as he spoke but he looked directly at Mrs. Heulwen, "I am the man of this house. Tesni is my wife, you will respect that, and none of my children are being left on a church doorstep." He finished firmly and Ylsa smiled.
"Well said Alun," Ylsa looked pointedly from the young husband to the mother. "Further Mrs. Heulwen I have worked very hard to insure the healthy birth of your grandchildren and make certain that your family would have all the assistance it needs during this time. For this work you have paid me a few coppers, dried fish, sewing, laundry and carpentry services and while I am happy to work for so little I am never happy to see my work squandered by those who do not value it."
Alun ducked his head and Gwen felt her eyes go wide feeling a moment of embarrassment for the poor young man. Mrs. Heulwen opened her mouth to speak but Ylsa shot her a glare with such venom that Gwen quailed and Mrs. Heulwen shrank back into her chair.
"On this day I make you a promise," Ylsa dark eyes narrowed and her already dark skin grew darker still with the heat of blood and anger, "if one hair is harmed on that girl child's head, if she falls ill, seems sickly or I judge her to be uncared for, I shall use all my considerable connections to have you, Mrs. Heulwen, evicted from this city. Good day Alun." Ylsa started for the door. "Tesni, my dear Midwife Carin will be paying you a call this evening. Come Jen we're leaving."
Ylsa strode out the door leaving Gwen to gather up Ylsa's medicine bag and the sewing Gwen had brought with her. She waved a quick good-bye to Tesni and hurried out the door.
"It's the same everywhere you realize," Ylsa said when they were out in the street. "Do you know what people do when they see how well I care for my charges? Do you know what they ask?" Ylsa stopped and looked at her expectantly hands balled into fist on her hips.
"No."
"Why, am I wasting, my talent? I have attended births where the girl is clearly too young to be pregnant, births where an order has been given to preserve the life of the child over the life of the mother. Who will bear their next generation of precious boys, who loves them, who cares for them but women? Yet somehow we are the useless ones. And it's everywhere, make no mistake Jen. People from all over the world live here in Wyeledon and I see that thought, the devaluing of women expressed amongst all peoples by men and women alike. And it is for that reason Jen that I shall always attend women." Ylsa dark eyes were alive with the heat of her indignation. "Someone must love us."
Gwen had nothing really to say to that and the two women continued walking.
"See Jen we mustn't let them take magic from us." Ylsa said suddenly "Yes it has been abused but a man cannot marry you off when your body is too young to bear the congress between a man and woman or the resultant offspring, a man cannot force himself upon when you have your own power. Women must not turn against magic. A sword in the hand of an evil man, can take away your will just as much as a witch with a potion."
BREAK
They came in just as Ms. Alfonsa was heading out. The older woman was conservatively dressed as usual and young Tony was with her.
"Ylsa, Ms. Jen, how was Tesni's labor?"
The boy gave her a little wave and Gwen waved back.
"Both Tesni and the babies are quite well, two boys and one girl." Ylsa replied.
"Alun must be beside himself," Ms. Alfonsa said with a friendly smile.
"Yes." Ylsa said.
"And what did you think Jen?" Ms. Alfonsa turned toward her.
She paused a moment.
"It was miracle," Gwen said.
"Well I hope this rift betwixt the two of you is well on its way to being mended. Oh and there is a note for you in the parlor Ms. Jen." Ms. Alfonsa fanned herself, "I believe it is from Physician Pradeep."
"Physician Pradeep!" Gwen ran into the parlor missing the amused smile that Ms. Alfonsa gave her before continuing out the door.
To Ms. Jenafere of Alfonsa's Boarding House
Having inquired after your character I have received glowing responses from several mutual acquaintances and should like to speak with myself to determine if you would be suitably for employment at his hospice. I should like to offer you consideration for the physician's assistant position. If this is still your desire as well you are scheduled to meet with me ten days hence at the hour of ten.
If this position is no longer to your liking or some previous appointment makes the interview impossible please send word right away so that other arrangements might be made. Otherwise I shall meet with you then.
Gwen read the note several times not only did she have an interview but she had recommendations. Smiling, she danced in place with her excitement; there was so much to do.
Ylsa pulled the pins from her hair and put them into the wooden case that held her accessories. Her eyes strayed to the little drawer in which she'd tucked the silk wrapped hair clip that Matilde had tried to give Jen. She studied it for a moment and then hurried to shut the bedroom door. Everyone except Jena- Guinevere that was what Matilde had called her- was out and Jen herself had dozed off in the parlor.
With the door shut and locked Ylsa sat down on her bed and unwrapped the clip. It was a beautiful gleaming bronze, the sun rays curved in such a way that they seemed to ripple and shimmer. She placed the clip carefully in her palm and shut her eyes. Her hands were very sensitive and though her gift was mostly for healing she could do some other magic. Her brother insisted that she could probably do more if she tried but Ylsa had little interest in that.
She closed her eyes and breathed deep settling into a light trance. Everything Matilde produced was imbued with an aura. Jenafere's clip had an aura about it as if it had been used by Jenafere for years save there was nothing of Jenafere's essence or aura about somehow it was connected to Jen without being connected to her. Ylsa did not understand how that could be so but she could reach out to that essence just as she would when dealing with the auras of her patients and she hoped summon a vision.
It was faint at first, like a giggle or a Sunday afternoon, warm and golden whatever it was that flowed from this barrette. It expanded and grew, a moment of sweetness that poured outward rippling like a placid lake to calm and soothe all that it touched, all who drank from it, all that swam in it's waters and even those who merely looked upon it. Ylsa let herself drift on that lake, felt worry and concern flow away from her taken by the gentle waters. Her cares so big in her mind and heart were tiny things for something so cool and majestic.
Yet something ugly flickered on the periphery, a foulness that grew and surrounded the lake. Once surrounded the miasma began to flow inward slowly at first but more quickly with each passing moment.
Ylsa skimmed over the water looking for a way to reverse that poison flood but saw none. The lake like all bodies of water cleansed itself but the pollutant, the foul humor having found its entrance exploited it flowing in at an overwhelming rate, until the lake sat stagnate, filthy and stinking. It was then that she felt the toxic humors reaching out to her, to enter her lungs, make her nauseas and pull her down into the poison depths. Panic flooded her and Ylsa gasped taking in more of the poisoned air.
-"Ylsa!"
She jerked jolted out of the vision and looked over her shoulder.
"Ylsa are you well?" Jenafere called to her. "You locked the door, I need to get in."
She thought about the lake, the pollution.
"Ylsa."
She could still feel the taint of poison in her lungs.
"Ylsa come unlock the door," Jenafere insisted.
She pulled herself together.
"Right, just a moment." Quickly Ylsa wrapped the barrette in the black silk it had come with and tossed it into the little chest. "Sorry Jen." She hurried to the door and unlocked it. "Sorry."
"What were you doing?"
"Meditating, I assumed you'd be sleeping for a while yet."
"No, I'm going to have a bath."
Ylsa watched the other woman get a clean chemise and kirtle as well as a cake of soap and a skin cream that she mixed for herself. More than ever she wanted to ask Guinevere about Camelot, about the phrase peasant-queen. Had Matilde seen the poisoned lake? The other woman left and Ylsa laid back on her bed.
"Your enemy's victory shall be her bane, the peasant-Queen's part remains. What the wise man cannot yet see is that Albion's destiny requires not two but three. Less all be over born by fear, history turns on the choice of Guinevere."
So there were three people in the fortune, the enemy, the peasant queen and the wise man. She felt certain that the peasant-queen referred to her friend. Was the enemy Morgana? And who was the wise man? And who was this unmentioned required third? The required three could be the Enemy, the Wise Man and the Peasant Queen but that didn't make sense did it? Ylsa liked riddles and mysteries. Exploring them was as natural to her as breathing. As a child she'd spent hours using her gift to explore inner workings of her body and then the bodies of the people around her. By the time she'd gone to school there had been very little left to learn, only the fine detailed control that allowed her to do her job so well. But she had not lost her interest in riddles and mysteries and Jenafere, nay Guinevere, had until this moment been just that.
Now though there seemed to be something more, there was a danger she was certain of that and only a fool went unprepared toward danger. She thought about the corrupted lake, poison fumes steaming off the waters reaching out to infect her. Was that what Matilde had meant about being overborne? What part of Matilde's fortune referred to the lake, Albion or the peasant queen? Ylsa sat up, all thoughts of sleep gone from her mind. She was going to see Matilde.
Ylsa slipped out of the townhouse while Gwen was still in her bath. She hadn't gone far when she saw Farmer Dietricht with his mule cart; his wife Jude was one of her mothers.
"Farmer Dietricht, "she called out to him.
"Ms. Ylsa," he nodded pleasantly and brought his cart to stop. "Where you off to? Climb on up and I'll take you as far as I can." He extended a hand to her and pulled her up onto the seat beside him with one great burly arm.
"Thank you, Farmer Dietricht."
"You're welcome, Ms. Ylsa."
While Adras' cart was enclosed for carrying people comfortably farmer Detriecht's cart was a more utilitarian vehicle. The open air box held his blanket covered goods for the market and Ylsa had to sit beside him on the driver's bench.
"How is Gale?"
"He grows well and strong, his mother is well too. I know you always cared about your mothers." He smiled again and started the mules to moving.
"I'm glad to hear Jude is doing well. What's in the cart?"
"Some early potatoes and greens for the market, it's been a good season so far, grains growing well and we haven't had drought or pestilence."
"Yes a good season we should all hope it remains that way." Ylsa thought about the lake in her vision. "Yes we should all hope it remains so."
Gwen's bath drew up all the weariness she'd been expecting to feel; when she'd done nap was in order. She went looking first for Abebech wanting to make certain that the girl didn't need anything but the house was empty Ylsa had left while she was in the bath and Abebech had most like gone with Luisa to the market.
Abebech was making a smooth recovery and Ms. Alfonsa expected that she would soon go down to the hostel. There was a bed for her there and she might learn any number of skills that would allow her to support herself in the future. It would also now be known that girl was under the protection of the townhouse and by extension Father Flaejer and Adras. She would have no further trouble from the procurers of Wyeledon. Plus there was a nurse working in the infirmary whose family had come from Eritrea. The hope was that the two would get along and Abebech could go into the nurse's household as a daughter or sister. A happy ending appeared to be in sight. Gwen laid down for her nap pleased that things seemed to be going well for her household. Sleep came the moment she shut her eyes.
Gwen woke from her nap to light of the westering sun and the feeling of dread raising the hairs on the back of her neck and arms. She could not recall dreams but she was certain they had been unpleasant.
She got out of bed and went to the room's only window. She looked toward the westering sun and Camelot sprang to mind. She swallowed something was happening there, but then something was always happening in Camelot. Camelot had powerful enemies, and she now knew had them in part because of its own actions. She thought of Ylsa's words, of Camelot 's powerful protector. Considered the fact that whatever was happening in Camelot always somehow worked itself out.
She had betrayed Arthur and so betrayed Camelot. Camelot was nothing to do with her anymore. Wearing only her chemise Gwen went downstairs to find her housemates.
Farmer Deitricht couldn't take her all the way but he saved her about half an hour's walk. Like Ms. Alfonsa Matilde lived in a townhouse. Unlike Ms. Alfonsa Matilde's home as well as the homes around it was far wealthier. The houses themselves were of a similar size but they had large lush gardens and walls that screened out the traffic and noise of the rest of the city. These were not grand estates mind you but certainly large, lovely homes.
Matilde's townhome was bright yellow stucco with green timber, her garden blooming bright with shrubs and flowers. Ylsa lifted a gleaming brass doorknocker, carved in the shape of an owl's head buffeted by partially unfurled wings and dropped it to cause an echoing thunk. Ylsa stepped back from the door as she waited and surveyed Matilde's home. It was not all that different from the Ms. Alfonsa's townhouse in its size or structure but where the town house was a simple building with a few decorative cornices, window box flowers, shutters, flowers near the side entrance and a garden in back Matilde has a lavish building.
Matilde's home was set back from the street with a please flower garden walled away to protect it from the traffic of the road. She had three gleaming stained glass windows that showed the virgin and her ascension. Her doorknob was a gleaming brass as were the hinges and other fastenings in her doors and windows. Maltide's fortune came from the guidance she offered to wealthy merchants. Her market days were payment to the spirit's that guided her.
Matilde's butler, an older man with a severe look about him greeted her and showed her not to the parlor but instead took her to an area of Matilde's garden at the back of the house.
The seer sat at a circular stone table with benches enclosed by trees, studying a lay of cards.
"Welcome Ylsa," Matilde looked up from her reading, mild curiosity the only thing in her expression.
"Thank you Matilde."
The garden was comfortably cooled by shade trees, fragrant with the pleasant scents of sage, myrrh and thyme. The seer wore a high collard gown of deep blue green, creamy white lace trimmed the neck line and cuffs of her sleeves. Her hazel eyes were dark in the light of the shady garden and he red brown hair was neatly confined to chignon at the nape of her neck.
"I've come to you about Guinevere." Ylsa said sitting down on one of the stone benches. "You gave her a bronze barrette perhaps three months ago."
"I have not forgotten her," Matilde nodded ever so slightly.
"She won't wear it, touch it, look at it or even talk about it," Ylsa said counting off the things Guinevere would not do on her fingers.
"Yes she was rather, reluctant, when I saw her," Matilde replied.
Ylsa sighed. "Can you tell me what you saw when you made the barrette?"
"Ylsa, you know I cannot tell you that."
"This is important Matilde, Guinevere may have dangerous enemies. The witch, who rent the worlds, may well be her enemy."
Matilde's face tightened for just a moment, a cramped look entered her expression to be replaced a moment later by the same cool façade she'd since the start of the interview. It came to Ylsa then that Matilde had been expecting her with these very questions, damned Seer.
"You have no intention of answering my questions, do you?"
"No I do not." Matilde's eyes flickered silvery-gold in hazel irises and a tingle of fear walked down's Ylsa her spine.
"I-I have to go." Ylsa got to her feet; she should not have come here. She took a few steps and stopped, confused for moment. She needed to go home. Ylsa started back toward the road and stopped again. She had questions.
The vision of the poisoned lake swam into her memory. Yes she had questions! But she needed to leave. She took another step toward the road. No! There was danger- In asking questions. Ylsa froze, something was wrong. She breathed long and deep concentrating. Matilde had not answered here questions. She thought of Matilde's eyes, recalled the gold and silver dance of fire in the other woman's irises and growled low and soft. Matilde had tried to manipulate her.
Ylsa stalked back to the garden summer breeze whipping around her.
"How dare you presume to toy with me Matilde?" She glowered down at the other woman letting the power that fueled her healing surge and shimmer in the air about her like the appearance of water in the distant desert. "I am no magic-less child come to beg the name of a future lover."
The other woman merely shrugged. "Calm yourself healer."
"I am a healer; people's lives are in danger-"
"People's live are always in danger." Matilde responded. "Vikings, Saxons, Gauls, Goths are always a threat. Beasts and monsters come out from the wood, old things that should not exist crawl out of decaying prisons. We are dying from the day we are born, Ylsa; you know this better than anybody."
"But-
"My magic has its price and its burden as does yours. Do not ask for that which you yourself would not give."
Ylsa felt her anger deflate.
"Very well will you help me to interpret my vision?"
Matilde's eyes narrowed and she leaned forward a bit.
"Your vision?"
"I pulled it from the barrette."
Curiosity and caution fought a war in the woman's face at long last she sighed as she rested her palms on her knees.
"Very well sit down and tell me what you saw."
Ylsa did as Matilde bade her.
"So a healer sees an infected body of water. I am, fascinated." She raised her tea cup and took a long slow sip. "I cannot tell you much but I will say this- your friend's time to choose is as yet a ways off. Her enemy, however, remains a threat. She will dog her shadow and the menace of all that Guinevere holds dear. If you would be her friend then use your skill and protect her, otherwise cast her out and spare yourself the danger. But," she paused again and Ylsa thought that perhaps it was for dramatic effect, "if you choose to stand with your friend know that the rise is worth the fall."
"The rise is worth the fall?" Ylsa repeated. "Can't you tell me if I am right, if her enemy is Morgana?"
"I've said enough. If you would know more than you must bring Guinevere to me. Now you must go." Matilde rang the hand bell that rested on the table beside her. Seconds later two large men appeared. Not one to misread a signal Ylsa left, feeling more confused than ever.
Though she saw people she knew Ylsa did not hail anyone. She walked to the townhouse dragging her feet all the way, thinking, and pondering Matilde's words. Even the warmth of the day or the stink of the market did not draw her attention.
-her enemy will dog her shadow and be the menace of all that Guinevere holds dear-
She thought about Jenafere, tough, stubborn, hard working, brave and honest and wondered how it was that a handmaid could have drawn the ire of a powerful foe. How a handmaid might affect the future of a nation? Jenafere was brave and compassionate but she was no fool nor was she a manipulator or social climber; Ylsa knew the type. Jenafere was something else.
-cast her out and spare yourself the danger-
If only Matilde had confirmed that Morgana was or was not Jenafere's enemy.
The lady Morgana had colluded with King Cenred to seize the throne of Camelot. Prince Arthur and his knights had somehow defeated an army that rumor said could not die. Many dismissed the tales about the magically strengthened army, after all how could men without magic defeat an army that could not die? Others believed that King Uther was a hypocrite and kept a few pocket sorcerers somewhere to call up when needed.
Few knew the truth. Camelot had a protector, a wise and powerful sorcerer or sorceress, a person who could very possibly reshape the future of Camelot and all of Britannia. But if Guinevere was so important why was she in Wyeledon? For the first time since resigning all the privileges of being a Beaune witch Ylsa considered asking her brother Lucian for help. But Beaune witches never did anything that did not advance some scheme.
-history turns on the choice of Guinevere-
No, if she was important the last thing Guinevere needed was the eye of the Beaune family on her. Amongst the magical community Morgana was rumored to be a seer if that was true then perhaps she saw that whatever choice Guinevere was destined to make would be against her wishes and so wanted her out of Camelot.
She reached the townhouse at last and stood a moment on the doorstep, the evening sun washing over her. What was she going to do about Jen?
Feminine laughter greeted Ylsa as she entered the townhouse and she smiled. She found Guinevere, Synove, Kerenza and Abebech in the parlor dressed only their chemises and stays.
-the rise is worth the fall-
"Hello my lovelies."
"Hi Ylsa. Jen was just telling how you had words with Mrs. Heuwlen," Kerenza said. "I knew it was only a matter of time." Kerenza smirked and Ylsa rolled her eyes.
"Well I'm relieved that those babies were born well. If Tesni and her family need any help Abebech and I will be happy to pay them a call. Isn't that right Abebech," Synove said.
The girl gave a firm nod and Ylsa frowned. Abebech did not speak much and that worried her. Still she was up and about and enjoying herself so perhaps they had no cause for concern.
"You should join us Ylsa," Guinevere patted the spot on the bench next to her and smiled.
"Thank you but I'm quite tired." She yawned then. "I'm going to have a nap I think."
"Rest well."
Ylsa turned and headed upstairs. She heard their chatter pick up again.
-If you would be her friend then use your skill and protect her, otherwise cast her out and spare yourself the danger-
While her days were peaceful in those wee hours of the morning or the long hours of the evening, that feeling of dread, returned and more and more she became convinced that something was amiss in Camelot. And yet what was she, banished peasant, and betrayer of kings, to do about it? She had a new life here.
Gwen threw herself into studying for the interview, looking after Abebech and finishing her orders. She had no time for trips to the hostel or hazy warnings. She wanted all of the clothing she was working on completed. If she were hired to the infirmary there would be little time for other work. So she spent many an hour at Abebech's bedside sewing or studying. Sometimes the two of them sat and talked or played a game. As the girl grew stronger they began to take little walks around the townhouse, first short strolls in the garden behind the house and then longer to the end of the block and back, round the block and so forth.
Abebech asked questions about Wyeledon and Ylsa in particular. She knew it was Ylsa's magic that had saved her life; she was impressed by Ylsa's strength saying that they were blessed to have such a powerful witch serving them. The girl talked very little about her own home saying only that it was Eritrea and across the sea.
"You were not awake when Ms. Alfonsa left this morning but she told me that Father Flaejer would like you to come down to the hostel when you are well enough." Gwen said as they rounded a corner.
"Father Flaejer is the priest that confronted the men who were trying to abduct me?"
"Yes."
Abebech smiled her teeth bright against her nearly midnight colored skin.
"There is a nurse there. Her family is from Eritrea but she was born in Wyeledon."
"Oh, I had begun to think that Wyeledon had no natives."
"It does seem that everyone here is from somewhere else. Ms. Alfonsa, Luisa and Father Flaejer are from Iberia, Synove from Denmark, Ylsa from France, Kerenza's village is very far north of here and I came from Camelot. That's quite a list," Gwen said having never truly considered that she had yet to meet anyone in Wyeledon that had actually been born there. "I've yet to meet this nurse," Gwen said at last. "But I now find I am curious to meet a native of Wyeledon."
Abebech laughed a light birdlike sound and the two women walked on.
"You always seem sad when you say the word Camelot."
"Do I?" Gwen asked.
"What is it like? You seem to miss it so."
Gwen studied the girl a moment her skin like midnight, her cheekbones sitting so high that her eyes seemed to slant, chin that drew to a point like a fox and all of it open with the curiosity that only a child can have.
"It's not like this," she said."I lived in the capital city mind you so we had three and four story buildings. The tallest towers of the palace were even five stories. There were many professions there and there were nobles with their rich costumes and ways, like and unlike merchants, but it's a tenth of this place. I think also it is a more honorable place. I did not think that before those men attacked you but it would not have happened in Camelot not in the middle of the day in a public street for everyone to see. There are brothels and such but nothing like what happens here." Gwen shook her head.
"I suppose that I was blessed that it happened where it happened," the girl replied toying with the cross that hung from her rosary and crossed herself.
"Here we are back at the house," Gwen said as they drew even with the front door of the townhouse.
"I am tired actually. I think I shall lie down for a while." The two women went inside. "I think I shall spend some time in prayer before my nap." Abebech said.
"Very well." Gwen went into the room she shared with the other ladies as Abebech went into Ms. Alfonsa's room. Abebech was still using Ms. Alfonsa's room as the older woman was the only person with a bed that would sleep two. Gwen got her sewing from the bedside cabinet and headed back outside. The summer afternoon was too warm and pleasant to spend it in the parlor.
It had been her intention to work but Gwen found herself yawning and blinking, lulled by the sweet fragrance of the flowers, the droning of bumble bees and the warmth of the afternoon sun.
Gwen started awake a sob in her throat and she brushed at tears on her cheeks. There wasn't simply something happening in Camelot something was wrong with Arthur. She saw in her mind's eye not the garden behind the townhouse but a boy at the bottom of a well pleading to her for help.
No! She told herself dreams nothing more, she'd sundered her path from Arthur and Camelot the moment she touched her lips to Lancelot's.
She looked into the garden full and lush with its summer growth. While Ms. Alfonsa did not have a wall around her home she had a simple wooden fence that enclosed the property behind her house. Roses and wisteria had been trained to grow all along the fence. Two great trees, one oak and one willow provided shade in the summer afternoon. Flowering shrubs, violets, daisies and impatiens brought pink, yellow, orange and blue to garden making it a delight to the eye and mind.
Guinevere told herself not to think about the wood in the dream or the boy in the well. Told herself to go back to sewing. She'd only just picked up her sewing when she heard the soft tread of one of her housemates, Kerenza?
She looked over her shoulder and saw Kerenza coming toward her. Alchemist logs in hand.
"Mind if I join you?"
"Not at all," Gwen said and ducked her head, turning her attention back to her work. She did not want Kerenza to that she was upset.
Kerenza sat down on the stool she'd brought with her and Gwen picked up her sewing. Instead of Adras' copper colored formal length tunic, needle and thread she saw rough rope in childish hands. The feelings of dread she'd been having recently surged and her hands started to shake.
'Guinevere,' the boy in her dream called her and she could hear desperate fear in his voice.
"Arthur," she didn't realize she'd said his name aloud until she looked up and saw Kerenza looking at her faced puzzled.
"Are you unwell?"
"I'm fine." Her voice quavered and betrayed her even as she said it and her stomach soured. Boy's face drew further away… Gwen put down her sewing and ran into the house.
Kerenza caught up to her in the parlor staring out the window looking toward the west, toward Camelot.
"Jen," she started as she felt Kerenza's hand on her arm. "Perhaps you should lie down."
"No! Everything is fine!" She wrung her hands even as she said it.
Kerenza arched one long red brow.
"It is?" Kerenza looked down at her hands and Gwen dropped them to her side.
She saw true concern in Kerenza's pale gray eyes even as the hairs on her arms pricked. She looked west for the briefest moment. Nothing must be wrong with Arthur and yet- she looked back at Kerenza. The other woman's expression was all patience and consideration.
-If she'd had her way she would have chosen Ylsa to confide in but ever since they'd returned from the delivering Tesni's babies she'd gotten the feeling that the midwife was now avoiding her.-
"Do alchemist study dreams?" Gwen asked.
"Yes." Kerenza's face brightened, "come sit down."
She let Kerenza tug her toward the padded bench and they say down.
"Tell me what did you dream?"
Gwen bit her lip before beginning.
"I've been having this feeling for perhaps a week, a terrible feeling, a sense of oncoming dread," Like the day Dad died, "but only briefly, mainly in the morning or the evening. Just now I feel asleep sewing and dreamt I was a little girl playing in the wood near my home. I heard a boy calling for help; he sounded very miserable and wretched so I ran toward his cries until I came to a well."
She saw the pale face, small and desperate, framed by a halo of blonde hair.
"He knew me, called me by Jenafere," 'Guinevere' "my name but I couldn't make out the features of his face." Help me.
She glanced at Kerenza and saw the other woman watching her intently.
"I ran back toward the city but came to my home in the woods. We never lived in the woods mind you but there it was. My parents were there. I asked them for help but they were busy talking, eating. I found some rope, a good length of it. I was certain it was long enough and then I ran back to the well as fast as I could. I tied the rope round a tree and lowered it to him, it should have been enough but he said it was just out of reach. I ran back home, got more rope and hurried back to the well. I added it but," Gwen paused.
"It wasn't enough," Kerenza added.
Gwen nodded."I went back and forth so many times. I got tired, it started to get dark and I could hear him calling, growing more miserable as it got darker. I fell at one point. I was so exhausted, the sunset and you know how the woods are on a moonless night. I couldn't see my hand in front of my face but he kept calling, kept begging me for help and he sounded so sad and scared and his voice started getting further away."Guinevere ran her hands through her hair and felt tightness in her throat, something was wrong.
"I couldn't stand but I forced myself to crawl toward him. I couldn't let him get away but I moved so slowly and his voice got further and further away, like a whisper, like a memory and then your knocking woke me up."
Gwen hugged herself and Kerenza looked at her head cocked to one side.
"Did you know the boy in the well?"
"Perhaps, yes." She admitted. "Do you think it might mean something Kerenza?" Guinevere rung her hands as she asked.
"I don't know. Is he someone here in Wyeledon?"
"No," Gwen shook her head.
Kerenza was silent, her expression giving away nothing of what she was thinking.
"Do you think it means anything?"Gwen asked again.
"Do you?"
"A question with a question?"
"You do though?"Kerenza repeated.
"Yes," Guinevere admitted. She didn't want there to be anything wrong with Arthur not when leagues and betrayal divided them. She needed him to be well and happy.
"Most alchemists believe that dreams are only about the dreamer but my mother was a rational woman and she held very firmly to certain things, particularly what our dreams might mean. If you dreamt strongly of another she believed that you should inquire after them, write to them or call upon them, whatever is necessary to ascertain their state."
"I can't write him."
"Can you inquire with another?"
Guinevere nodded.
"Then write to that person," Kerenza said firmly.
"It's probably nothing."
"What's probably nothing?" Synove entered wearing a sleeveless summer dress of deep blue, her bare round arms as sun warmed as the rest of her.
"Jen dreamt something terrible has befallen a friend of hers," Kerenza said this casually as if prophetic dreams of doom and death were a daily occurrence.
Synove's mouth formed a perfect little 'O' and her dark brows knitted together. "You must write them? Do you have paper?" Synove asked.
"I'm certain it is nothing," Guinevere insisted.
"Let me tell Synove what happened," Kerenza said tone suggesting that Synove would differ with her assessment that it was nothing.
Guinevere nodded her assent and Synove sat down on in one of the parlor chairs.
"But you must write home," Synove insisted when Kerenza finished.
"I don't know."
"Listen to me a moment Jen," Kerenza said." I've known you some months now." Kerenza spoke slowly and firmly. "You and I are alike. We are calm, reasoned, thoughtful, not prone to hysterics or easily rattled. You feel that something is wrong don't you?"
"Yes," she whispered, drawn in by Kerenza's sudden intensity.
"Well that settled that then," Synove said firmly. "Let us go to the scribner's, get some paper and find someone to carry this letter to Camelot. Stay here I am going to get out shawls from upstairs and then we are going." Synove gave them a look that said she would not tolerate argument before heading out of the room.
The scribner's was simple, white and brown two story stucco and timber sandwiched between a candle maker and a cobbler. Paper of different weights, colors and quality lined a wall of shelves, there were also writing tables with chairs, inkwells and quills bound to the table by leather cord.
Gwen purchased plain but sturdy paper, an inkwell was filled and she sat down to write her letter. Synove and Kerenza surprised her by doing the same.
Gwen let her letter ramble a bit, greeting Gwaine, reassuring him of her well being, paying compliments to his family, asking after the others before finally inquiring after Arthur. She did not name him of course only called him He with a capital H' but Gwaine would know of whom she asked.
Guinevere read over her letter looking for anything she might have missed before signing. She made a couple of additions and signed. She'd still have to find someone to carry it to Camelot but with the letter written some of the worry that had been riding her eased. For a few of a few coppers the scribner offered to hold the letter and send it with anyone headed toward Camelot. Merchant trains, wanders, circuses, actors and travelers regularly stopped in to collect letters and deliver them to their villages, town, castles, etc…If she found someone before he did then all her coppers would be given back to her. Gwen left the letter along with two coppers in the scribner's office. He would supply her with a written receipt as well as the name and date of whomever took the letter.
"Feeling better?" Kerenza asked as they left the scribner's.
"Yes actually." Gwen smiled.
"Good," Synove said, "there is a new bard playing over at The Lace Glove why don't we stop in?"
Feeling lighter of heart and mind Guinevere agreed as did Kerenza and the three women headed out for an afternoon on the town.
BREAK
Feeling some sense of accomplishment at writing the letter Guinevere sought out Ylsa when they returned home later that evening.
Ylsa had been happily helping her with her studies from the moment she'd mentioned her interest in medicine; the only time that had stopped was Gwen had discovered that Ylsa was a witch. Everything that Ylsa had shown her since then had convinced her that Uther had surely been wrong. Not wrong on all accounts regarding magic, people certainly used magic for ill purposes but it could be used for good ends as well. If the other woman had decided not to be her friend that was fine but she wanted to make certain that it was not because Ylsa believed that she still thought poorly of magic users.
She knocked on the still room door.
"Come in."
The still room was a smallish space; the walls were lined with shelves loaded with bottles, jars and tubes. Jams, jellies, preserves and bottles of wine filled one set of shelves; another was lined with Ylsa and Kerenza's varying potions and a third with the stillrooms tools. Mortar and pestle, the still itself empty jars, jugs and tubes as well as knives and other equipment to prepare herbs and fruits for processing.
There was a large table in the center. Ylsa sat there now grinding something into a dark powder.
"Ylsa."
"Jen," the other woman looked up briefly. "What can I do for you?"
"You haven't needed any help gathering herbs or preparing any of your medicine recently?"
"You've been busy I didn't want to pull you away from your studying," Ylsa replied.
Gwen crossed her arms and studied the other woman.
"But helping you with the herbs and such has been a way for me to study."
"I've been busy my mothers need my time and their medicine-"
"I was helping you with that before Ylsa," Gwen said. "You've been avoiding me and I understand why. I owe you an apology."
Ylsa looked up now.
"I really need to concentrate right now Jen so can we, talk later?"
"So then you are avoiding me?"
"No." Ylsa drew out word said not quite looking at her.
"Listen Ylsa," Gwen clasped her hands together. "I know I said some awful things to you about magic and I understand that I was wrong, my thoughts came entirely from ignorance and I'm sorry. Thank you for showing me otherwise."
Ylsa studied her a moment before a frown creased her dark brow.
"You're welcome Jen. Thank you for apologizing."
"If we can't be friends," Guinevere sighed "I thought we were coming to be friends before but- well I've lost a lot of friends recently and all of them my own fault-"
"Jen.'"
Guinevere paused, she'd been rambling.
"Jen please sit down for a moment," Ylsa said.
Gwen sat down on the bench that faced the table.
"It's not as you are thinking."
"How so," Gwen asked?
"Are you going to talk to Matilde again?"
"No. Why would I?"
It was Ylsa's turn to sigh.
"I need to say something to you. You're not going to like it, but you need to hear all that I have to say, so promise you won't interrupt."
Guinevere nodded. She truly did not want to hear anything about Matilde and her fortunes, but Ylsa seemed fixed on it.
"I know you don't believe it is possible that you have an enemy but sometimes you can make an enemy without being aware of it." Ylsa paused. "Surely you have observed this amongst the nobles of the court. If that person is Morgana, and I feel certain that it is-"
"Morgana has no reason to be my enemy," Guinevere insisted. "I'm not important to anyone." Not anymore.
"Jen," Ylsa looked at her sternly.
"Sorry."
"You were her maid; you probably know something about her that she wouldn't want anyone to know." Ylsa got to her feet. "If half of the rumors I've been hearing about Morgana are true," the midwife glanced away for a moment, "and I have every reason to believe that they are, then everyone that associates with you is in danger."
"No-" she snapped her mouth shut, she'd said she'd listen.
""Yes!" Ylsa settled beside her on the bench. "Let me perform some protective magic on your behalf."
"Magic?" It was Gwen's turn to leap to her feet. She stared at Ylsa like she had found a snake in her bedding. "Is it not enough that I have accepted that other people have magic?" She could hear the whine in her own voice.
Ylsa sighed and folded her hands in her lap.
"No, it's not."
The other woman held her gaze expression frank and perhaps vaguely sympathetic.
"I'm a Beaune witch Jen," the midwife rose now, "and that won't mean anything to you but there are places where the name commands respect and fear. Wealthy people fall at our feet to beg for our aid and kings that would give us titles, jewels, lands, whatever we wish for our services. What I am offering to you, I offer freely as a gift of friendship but it carries the value of a fortune."
"But why?"
"Because I like you, because you walked here from Camelot by yourself, because you're caring and compassionate and thoughtful, because you were willing to take a job that would have made you sick to pay your way." Ylsa took her hand now, giving it a friendly squeeze. "Because you're the kind of person that admits when she is wrong, because you're the kind of person I want for a friend."
"Ylsa," she felt the slight swell of tears. Something inside of her, something that had collapsed and fallen inward on itself when Elyan had looked on her face wrinkled with disdain, when Arthur had walked away from her his back as broad and cold as the metal that armored him, when Merlin could only look at her with eyes the color of a melancholy gray sky, that something stirred and woke, brought tears to her eyes and made her throw her arms around her new friend.
"I would be honored to have your help." The words came out in a harsh, choked whisper but she meant them as much as she'd ever meant any words in her life.
A/N- Some believed during the medieval period that twins were a sign of infidelity one father per child.I don't know how common this belief was but my research into this period has shown that what was common in one area might be unheard of in another. In some areas a rapist could be castrated and in others if a girl did not fight her rapist she would be married to him. So I decided that Mrs. Heulwen's views are limited to her and others but not held by everyone.
Starting next week The Exile is on a special schedule to bring you Wartime Tales, stories from the occupation of Camelot. The occupation is told in four short chapters. The first is The Lost Boy, Elyan's tale, the second is Spring Flowers Hafrene's tale (Magistrate Grigor's daughter), the third is The Blighted Blossom, Janet's Tale (second bracelet victim) and finally the fourth The Fallen Sheild, Gwaine's tale.