Previously in The Exile
The young man was thin, a match for her in height. He wore simple serge pants and a worn linen tunic with sleeves long enough to cover his hands easily. He had curling dark hair like so many others. The features of his face weren't of any note, what caught her attention were his eyes. They were the pale, crystal blue of a river on a frozen winter morning. They called to mind a memory flavored with the sweet odor of fever and the rank fragrance of fear. The child was twelve, perhaps thirteen years of age, but she knew him surely she did though she could not yet recall his name...
...Of all the people she'd ever hoped or wanted to see from Camelot she had certainly never imagined any of them walking into the hospice on her first day or work. Nor had her mind ever summoned this child, this boy, a victim of Uther's cruelty, to play a part any of her fancies. But she did indeed know him, knew those winter morning eyes.
"Mordred."... Chapter XXIX Dr. Gwen, Medicine Woman
The Exile, Part II:
-Guinevere, Called Jenafere-
Chapter XXXII- A Pile of Plain, White Stones
A Pile of Plain White Stones
"The two of you are familiar with each other, Ms. Jenafere?"
"I-I," Guinevere took a deep breath. It had always been possible that someone from her old life would appear in the hospice or anywhere in Wyeledon. "I met Mordred when he was still very young, but it has been some years since I saw him last." She thought of the scared, sick little boy. "I am glad you are well."
"Thanks to you." He turned his attention to Physician Pradeep. "Ms. Jen-a-fere," he paused as if weighing the name, "saved my life. I was much younger and very sick and very lonely. It is no surprise to find her working in a hospice." *
Gwen felt some of her tension ease; Mordred was not stupid. She hoped Pradeep would think nothing more of Mordred calling her Guinevere, rather than Jenafere, as a difference in pronunciation.
"No," Pradeep gave her an appraising look and smiled. "Now, young man, what is the trouble today?"
"My arm, sir, it is burnt." Mordred extended his left arm and pushed his sleeve up to his elbow to reveal a sturdy cotton bandage that covered his forearm from wrist to elbow.
He began unwrapping the bandage and Gwen grimaced at what she saw. The skin was dark in some places, raw and pink in others, still white in others, and there were several large yellowish blisters. She saw no signs of infection, but the injury looked new. If it became infected, he could very well lose the arm.
"Are you not in pain?" The physician leant across the table and beckoned him forward so he might make better study of the injury.
"I took some medicine, for it sir," Mordred said. Gwen recalled that he was a Druid; they had strong healing practices and traditions of their own.
"I can make up a salve for you," Pradeep offered shaking his head, a deep frown in his face.
"Thank you sir, but I am looking for Ylsa. I understood that she worked here."
"No," Pradeep looked up at him briefly. "I'm sorry, she works with us at times, but she deals only with midwifery."
"But you know where she might be found?" He looked at her then.
Gwen started feeling a mild sense of unease. Of course she knew where Ylsa might be found, but how could Mordred know that?
"Ylsa is a midwife," Pradeep said.
"Yes, but she'll treat a friend. She has lived and studied with us. I just don't quite know where she is."
Physician Pradeep began to look very confused now.
"Mordred is a Druid." Gwen studied him feeling some uncertainty. "Ylsa spent some time studying with them during her travels."
"Yes, not many are gifted in the way that Ylsa is." The young man's tone was musing. "There is not much medicine that will heal this arm very well," Mordred said, "but I know that Ylsa can."
"He is correct in that," Pradeep said sitting back. "Perhaps we can round up Tony or one of the other boys to fetch Ms. Ylsa. Nurse Crissiant!" Pradeep called to the nurse in the receiving room.
A fair-skinned Welsh nurse dressed like all the others in a smock and cap opened the door. Gwen studied her trying to determine something remarkable so that she might more easily recall the woman's name in the future.
"Take Ms. Jenafere and the young man here to my work room. Show her where the burn salve is and then send for Tony or one of the other boys to send for Ylsa."
"Yes, Physician Pradeep." Crissiant's voice was warm, rich, unusually deep for a woman.
"Come along please," The nurse gestured, and Guinevere picked out the shimmer of white embroidery along her wrist and looking again she noticed the faint shimmer of white embroidery on Crissiant's cuffs, hem, neckline, and even her cap.
Crissiant the nurse with the white-on-white embroidery and the rich voice.
Gwen and Mordred followed the nurse into the hall. Late afternoon sunlight gleamed on the shining wood panels. Here the scent of watermint and cinnamon that had been mixed with the oil soap used to polish the wood panels was strong.
"Have you been in Wyeledon very long, Ms. Jenafere?"
"Just a few short months."
The boy fell silent as they turned up the spiraling staircase that led to Physician Pradeep's work room.
"Mordred, have you been well over the years?" Gwen asked.
"Yes."
"Good, good," she smile. "I worried sometimes since you were not taken to family that there might not be a place for you or that those who took care of you would not be kind to you."
"You worried?"
His pale face pinkened, and Gwen smiled a true smile now.
Over the years she had often wondered what had become of the child. The attachment between he and Morgana had been very strong, but she had helped the other woman nurse him. He had been so very small and sweet and so alone. That Arthur had gotten him away to his people in some mysterious wood was all she had ever known and all she ever expected to know, in truth.
"Of course, you were a child in my care who'd lost his father. We had very much trouble taking care of you, but I wished only good things for you."
"Thank you, Ms. Jenafere," Mordred ducked his head now.
They reached the door of Pradeep's work room. Gwen and Mordred followed the nurse inside. Crissiant went directly to one of the cabinets on the far wall. Guinevere watched her taking note of which cabinet and shelf she pulled bottles from. In addition to the plants Pradeep's study was crowded with bottles, scrolls, and medical tools
"His collection is beautiful," Mordred remarked admiring the plants.
Gwen took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet, earthy scent that always fragranced Pradeep's study. She shared a smile with Mordred and surveyed Pradeep's lush collection plants.
"Here," Crissiant pointed toward a wooden table two stools in the outer chamber of Pradeep's study. She set a jar of thick yellow salve, and fresh bandages on the table.
"Thank you," Guinevere said.
"You are welcome," Crissiant's eyes went to Mordred's arm and lingered there a moment before returning to Gwen. "Would you like some help?"
"No, I've treated serious burns before." She thought of those who survived the dragon's attack on the city and wondered what the Druids did to treat severe burns.
"Very well," the nurse smiled. "Here is a bottle of watermint wash." Crissiant handed her a bottle from Pradeep's work table and left. "Sit," Gwen directed Mordred to a stool in the larger of Pradeep's two rooms.
She opened the salve, laid out a puff of cotton, and set out a bandage. Once her hands were cleaned she didn't want to have to go looking for anything else. She poured a palmful of Ylsa's wash and rubbed very thoroughly between her palms, along her fingers and down her wrist. Any part of her that might come into contact with Mordred's injury needed to be well cleansed.
"Mordred," Gwen asked the moment Crissiant was out of the room, "how is it that you knew I might know where Ylsa would be found?"
"Oh that's easy," the boy smiled. "My magic, sometimes I See things."
"See?"
"Things that haven't happened yet, things that might never happen, things that are happening now, but far away, or even things that happened long ago." He shrugged and Gwen stared at him.
"Just like that?"
"Usually, they are things that are somehow important to me. I kept seeing you and Ylsa walking the streets of Wyeledon arm in arm and ending up here."
"Oh," Gwen felt an uncomfortable little shiver.
"I don't see things that aren't important to me." Mordred explained, leaning forward. "I don't see people, say," he paused searching for his next words."I don't see people sneaking the last of the sugar from the tin or other private sins."
Gwen felt her face grow hot.
"Wha- why would you say that?"Guinevere cocked her head to one side watching Mordred intently, he was much too sure, too at ease for a child.
"People always think of their wrongs when they learn of my magic."
"Oh."
"Was Seeing not Morgana's gift?"
She nodded.
"What did she ever see?"
Gwen considered that Morgana had never seen her trying on her dresses to be sure.
"She saw someone trying to kill Arthur once. Another time she saw a sorcerer trying to raise monsters in Camelot. And once," Guinevere frowned, "she told me once how she dreamt again and again of an old woman in the woods spinning wool into yarn, it never made sense."
"Those would have been things that were important to her. If her maid ever shirked on her chores- it was probably never important if a little dust was swept under a rug," Mordred shrugged and leaned back resting against the stone wall behind him.
"Well, I never did that sort of thing," Gwen said primly as she sat down on a stool in front of him. "Let me see your arm?"
She dipped the puff of cotton into the salve. "This will hurt a bit."
"It smells good." He sniffed and smiled, and the man was replaced by a boy again. "I think about you, the four of you a lot." He was smiling again as if considering something pleasant.
"The four of us?" Gwen asked set
He nodded. "You, Merlin, Pr- King Arthur, and the Lady Morgana."
Gwen felt herself frown at the mention of her former mistress' name.
"It is true, then; she opposed Uther and now King Arthur?" Mordred's smile had vanished, and he looked very thoughtful.
"Yes."With careful fingers, she took hold of his arm.
"The rumors reached us. It is an argument amongst my people now. Should we turn to violent ways or perish?"
He didn't sound like a twelve year-old, but then he was a twelve year-old living in dangerous times, under constant threat with an ability that let him See things. Uther had certainly stolen Elyan's childhood; perhaps Mordred's -by Uther or this ability had been stolen too.
"What do you think?" She met his crystal blue eyes and realized it was again his left arm that had been injured.
-Guinevere brushed the boy's hair back from his sweat-dampened forehead. She had finally coaxed her exhausted mistress into taking a rest. Still someone had to sit up with the fevered child. She did not believe this defiance of Uther to be wise, but- Mordred let out a pained groan. and she sighed.
He was child, a fatherless child. His icy blue eyes opened and met hers.-
"I don't know. My people are hunted and killed wherever we go; peacefulness is no longer valued, no longer helps. My father," he paused a moment his crystal blue eyes distant, "was beheaded." He shook his head. "Wasn't your father also killed, Ms. Guinevere?"*
Guinevere stared at him for a stunned moment.
"And I suppose you saw that as well?"
"I saw you crying over him, I saw Prince Arthur helping you."
"Bu- but why?"
"I don't know perhaps, because the choices Prince Arthur makes affect me, because they affect all Druids. I don't know. I did not desire to intrude."
Guinevere nodded, she supposed that made sense. Were it not for her father's unjust death she mightn't have been able to convince Arthur to save the lives of Gaius, Merlin, and Morgana. And Morgana's actions had affected them all, perhaps even Mordred.
"You are not angry?"
"No," Gwen said.
She worked on his arm in silence for a his original question.
"I do not know the answer to your question Mordred, but this is what I know." She looked up from his arm and met his eyes pale blue eyes. "I've seen suffering inflicted both by those who have magic and those who do not, and the thing that I have noticed is that the people who inflict the suffering often suffer very little themselves." She met his eyes for a moment. "They have some hardships. No life is without loss, but powerful people like King Uther or Lady Morgana or Morgause are all too often safe, and seem to feel that their personal unhappiness is reason enough to inflict decades, if not centuries, of torment on hundreds of thousands of others." Keeping her touch gentle and light, Gwen began to dab the salve along the burn. "It is the people- like myself, my father, my brother, your father, people who have little or no power, people who do not make decisions that are the ones- who must give everything; because the powerful have suffered some momentary unhappiness." She drew in a deep breath and suppressed the anger stirring at her own words. "I've seen far more farmers, squires, and infantryman killed in any of these wars than any other, regardless of whether or no they have magic or what they think of it."
A ghost of a smiled traced his features then, and he nodded.
"It is true what you say. Tell me, is King Arthur like his father, or do you think he will cease the persecution of magic?"
Gwen looked down, away. No one had spoken with her so openly about Arthur in months.
"He seemed a just man," the boy prodded.
"Yes," she nodded thinking of the conversation she'd had with Arthur about whether or not he should use magic to heal his father. He'd been so hurt and broken when Uther died. Feeling that it was his fault for making a different choice than what he had thought Uther might have done. "It seemed to me that King Arthur wants to believe that there can be good or evil in everyone, but all that he has ever seen of magic is evil."
Mordred winced as she came upon a particularly sensitive spot.
"Sorry." She shifted the cotton puff and dabbed a clean side into the salve again.
"What about you, Ms. Guinevere? What do you think about magic?"
"You are full of questions." Gwen's gentle smile canceled any chastisement in her tone. "I do not know any longer," she admitted. "I thought it was evil once." Her brows drew together in a frown, and she wondered how it felt for him to hear her say that. "I know now that that was wrong. I have seen it do much good since I have come here, though I still have my misgivings. I do not trust my fellow men to resist the temptation of its power."
"Yes, those with magic bear a great responsibility." Mordred muttered the words in such a way as to suggest he was repeating something he'd heard often.
"I think if King Arthur could come here, see how the people live, and see how much magic helps them, I believe he would begin to think differently," Guinevere said at last.
"You believe that," the young man asked with a yawn, and Gwen noticed the dark circles under his eyes.
"Yes. He was willing to fight for you to have a chance." Gwen felt herself smiling.
"He did save my life." Mordred yawned again. "Tell me, Ms. Gwen, was Merlin well when you left Camelot?"
"He seemed so."
Mordred smiled again, and Gwen continued to dress his burn.
"How did you get burnt so badly?"
"Boiling pot."
Gwen winced. "We're all done; all you need now is the bandage."
"You really are good at this."
Gwen looked up for a moment and saw that he was smiling again.
"Thank you." Wrapping the bandage was a bit faster than applying the salve. Once the wound was covered, she made sure the ends were tucked and secured and lifted his arm to investigate her handiwork only to gasp in surprise at what she saw on the upper part of his arm.
"Mordred,- what?"
"It's nothing!" He pulled his arm away and yanked his sleeve back down.
"But those bruises?" They were ugly blue, black, purple and green-, color only brought on by great force.
"It's nothing. Just boys horsing around."
Gwen frowned.
"Ms. Jen!" Young Tony's voice floated through the door as he knocked.
"Come in, Tony."
"Hi, Ms. Jen," Tony grinned at her, dark eyes bright. "Ms. Ylsa said you should just bring Mordred back to the townhouse with you when you finish your shift, if you don't mind."
Gwen nodded.
"Yes, very well."
"Tony, that's your name, right?" Mordred asked.
The boy nodded.
"Would you be willing to take me now?"
"Well, yes, but Ms. Ylsa is with one of her mother's right now."
"Oh, I see. Thank you."
"Mordred, why don't you lie down here." Gwen pointed to the narrow cot Physician Pradeep had in his study. "Rest while I finish my shift.
"I'm not really tired."
Gwen suppressed a smile. He was still young enough to resist the pull of weariness.
"You need it to recover faster." Gwen nudged him toward the cot. "You do want to get well, right?"
"Yes," he admitted.
"All right, then, get some rest."
He lay down on Pradeep's cot. Gwen closed the shutters on Pradeep's windows, and put the burn salve, and watermint wash. Mordred was dozing by the time she walked out the door.
Ylsa fell silent, staring at Mordred's burnt flesh, her lips pursed into a tight line that told Gwen the other was near bursting with speech.
They were in the still, the only room in the house that they could be certain would have no interruptions. Mordred lay back on the wooden bench while Ylsa sat on a stool beside him. Gwen held a high candle to shed it's flickering light of Mordred's wound and allow Ylsa to do her examination in the otherwise dim light of the still.
The midwife licked her lips and shot Gwen a glance full with meaning before returning her eyes to her patient.
"Of course, I will help you, Mordred." She gave the boy a reassuring smile. "You're not having much pain?"
He shook his head.
"Good. For this type of damage, I will have to go into a trance. I need a few moments to prepare. Just rest here."
"I will. Thank you, Ms. Ylsa."
"Happily." Ylsa started toward the door, turning to Gwen before stepping into the hallway. "Jen, can you help me gather a few things?"
"Of course." Gwen gave Mordred a nod and then followed Ylsa out of the still. As soon as they were downstairs and out of earshot, Ylsa rounded on her, eyes blazing.
"We cannot let him go back to his people."
"What?" Gwen had seen the bruises on Mordred's arm, but surely Ylsa did not think he was being hurt on purpose. "Ylsa-"
"No! His father, the man Uther murdered, by all accounts, was a good man. The man looking after him now," Ylsa shook her dark head, hands clenched into fist.
"You think he did that on purpose?"
"Yessss!" The word came out in a hiss.
"But that would mean- he might lose the arm!" Gwen declared horror dawning on her.
"He probably would if I were not nearby." The midwife shook her head again and rubbed her hand across her eyes as if to wipe what she had seen from her mind. "Children with powerful magic-" she stopped mid-sentence.
"Ylsa …" Gwen started and fell silent not at all certain of what to say.
"I just need a few moments to calm myself."
Gwen nodded.
"The best healing magic comes through love, not rage." Ylsa's eyes drifted toward the still. "He needs that right now. Give me but a few moments.
"Of course."
Gwen nodded. Seeing the hideous blue-black, and green bruises had caused her to wonder, but the idea that someone would inflict such a terrible injury on a child- It wasn't unheard of course- Gwen felt her stomach twist and the stirring of bile in the back of her throat. She'd seen those with power abuse those with less, but the wanton cruelty behind the act…Ylsa seemed certain though. Guinevere looked back at the midwife.
Her dark eyes were closed, and she leant against the wall, chest rising and falling at a slow and even pace.
She'd never seen the other woman so angry. Even Tesni's mother-in-law had not invoked such rage. Ylsa opened her eyes.
"Come on." The midwife smiled small and soft." Let us go and tend our patient."
They found Mordred sitting as they had left him, a faraway look in his eyes.
"Jen, why don't you sit on the bench?" Ylsa returned to the stool she'd been sitting on earlier.
Mordred extended his injured arm toward her, but Ylsa shook her head.
"I do not need to touch you, and I don't want to cause you any further injury with involuntary movement while I am in trance."
The boy nodded.
"Mordred, you know how to go into trance?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Good. Jen," Ylsa turned toward her, "there is no danger, but I could cause Mordred undo pain if we are suddenly interrupted."
"Don't worry."
"Let us begin." Ylsa gave Mordred a small nod and closed her eyes. The boy did the same.
Nothing happened at first, and Gwen's mind drifted to her assignments: the skeleton she needed to draw, Aristotle, Pradeep's logs. She knew nothing about drawing. Of all the assignments, that one worried her the most. All of her drawing had been with a stick in the dirt and not a one of them worth remembering. Could she embroider a skeleton? She was good at embroidery.
Mordred whimpered, starting Guinevere out of her reverie. Her eyes went immediately to the boy's arm, and Gwen gasped at what she saw.
She hadn't been able to see Ylsa's magic acting on Tesni or the bandit, only the result. The changes to Mordred's arm, though, were quite visible. Blistered, sore, swollen, the dry discolored flesh began to swell with blood and grow red. Gwen thought it might be hot to the touch. The blood gathered round the edges of the worst of the burn and began to darken before her eyes like a bruise or a scab.
He whimpered again, though he did not awaken. Gwen wondered if he was in very much pain.
The more she saw, the faster the changes came. The dark line of blood took on the appearance of a scab, and the flesh on the other side grew dark. green and black.
"Necrotic," she whispered and did not realize she'd spoken aloud until she heard Ylsa's whispered yes.
Her eyes flicked to the other woman. The midwife was awake now, her dark eyes clouded.
"He'll sleep for a while yet."
"What about his arm? What did you do?" Gwen asked, her mind filling questions.
"Well, the dead flesh was too badly burned. Left on its own process, the worst of the burn would have taken some days to wither and die, possibly poisoning the the rest of his arm in the process."
Gwen nodded. She'd seen that with some of the worst burn victims after the dragon attacked Camelot.
"Now, we'll take off the dead flesh."
"Don't we need to prepare or clean?"
"Nope. The withered flesh can't feel any pain, and the scab grown here will protect the body from any possible infection."
"Oh."
Ylsa smiled and picked up her knife.
"He'll sleep right through it."
When the necrotic flesh was removed Gwen helped Ylsa clean and bandage the wound before going into a second trance. In the second trance she encouraged the protective scab to begin breaking up. The break-up would take a few days. When that was done she would encourage new flesh to grow replacing the burnt skin and muscle they'd cut out of his arm. Guinevere covered the sleeping boy with a blanket thinking for a moment of all those years ago when he'd been sick and in their care Camelot.
What would have become of Morgana if she had been left to join the druids rather than fall into the hands of Morguase? What would have come of Morgana if her magic had been like Ylsa's?
"Jen, we needn't sit with him," Ylsa said. "You can if you like, of course."
Her stomach rumbled reminding her that she hadn't eaten and then her feet started to ache. Perhaps after she'd eaten and rested, she'd sit beside him with one of her medical books.
"You are right it is long past dinner."
"Yes," Ylsa said. The two women left the still and headed for the kitchen. Supper had already been eaten and served, but Luisa had prepared plates for both of them.
"Ylsa," Gwen asked as they sat down in the empty dining room. "Could you cause someone that had had an arm amputated to grow a new one?"
For a moment the other woman stared at her and then laughed.
"No my friend, that is something beyond me." Ylsa shook her head. "I can only help the body do what it already does. While we do not typically grow new muscle our bodies are in a state of constantly rebuilding and renewing our existing muscle it takes only a little push to encourage the process to grow new muscle." Ylsa paused to eat one of the raw figs on her plate.
Gwen frowned. "How is it that bones are different? If a bone breaks our body repairs it. Surely that process is akin."
The midwife swallowed her food.
"Yes and no, that is only a small repair, the fluid in bone rejoins itself. Almost," she paused here, "like a glue, it cannot however grown new bone."
"Oh," Gwen poked out her lips thinking over that.
"Our bones were in a very different state when they first formed in the sea of our mother's blood, when we emerge into the world it is a state that cannot be recreated." The midwife shook her head and there seemed a bit of sadness in her tone.
"You wish it to be otherwise."
"Oh yes. If you could understand world as I do you would know the true miracle that occurs when a child grows inside it's mother," Ylsa explained. "The blood, the nurturing period in our mothers' wombs is a miracle. If we could recreate that miracle. all illness, all injury, all frailty could be repaired. There would be no suffering, not in our bodies anyway."
"Hmmm."
They continued eating in silence for a while and then Ylsa gasped as if startled.
"I never asked, with all the excitement, but how was your first day at the hospice?"
Gwen couldn't help but smile Mordred, and his arm momentarily forgotten.
"It was great. It was really, truly great. Pradeep is more patient than I would have expected, and I already have useful knowledge to draw upon. Thank you, Ylsa; thank you for all your all help." She held her friend's eyes. "I know I said so earlier, but I will say it again I would not have done this without you," Gwen shook her head. "I could not have done this without you. I do not think I have ever had a friend so dear as you, Ylsa."
The midwife smiled as she tried to form a response, but it seemed she could find no words before finally throwing her hands up in defeat.
"For once I have nothing to say."
"You don't have to say anything."
"Very well." After a moment, Ylsa continued eating, and Gwen did the same. The two friends sat in comfortable silence.
Guinevere let Aristotle's heavy medical tome serve as a tray for a pitcher of water, two cups, a dish of stewed pears, brown bread, and cheese. The muffled sound of music reached her from the parlor about reached her ears. Synove had mentioned something about herself and a friend practicing for the party tonight. Guinevere was more than tempted to join them, but there was work to be done.
She had decided to sit with Mordred while she did some of her reading. Ylsa had suggested that she have a tray of food on hand and fresh water in case he awoke. One of the effects of Ylsa's magic was that speeding the body through its healing process was draining. Patients often slept for extended periods of time and needed increased food to restore drained reserves. If he woke again during the night Gwen would be ready.
The boy had woken briefly, and they had moved him from the still to the guest room on the second floor. Gwen balanced her book-tray on one hand and knocked lightly with the other. When no answer was forthcoming, she entered.
Guinevere had left a candle burning on a little table beside the bed, and now the candle was joined by the water and food. She took a moment to study Mordred in the candle light. He lay in the center of a bed large enough for two or three, his face pale, but calm, peaceful. If he felt any pain, he showed no sign of it. Gwen sat down in the chair beside the bedside table, medical tome still in hand, her eyes on Mordred.
Like most he looked younger in his sleep. His face smooth, relaxed almost the same as the child she'd helped Morgana and Merlin to nurse, almost the same as the boy Arthur had saved.
-"You're not involved in this are you!?" Her father's demand when he'd learnt of Morgana's failed escape.
"Understand my Gwennie, I don't want anything to happen to you."
His barrel chest, strong arms, hand cradling the back of her head. Safe with her father- -he'd be dead in a month's time killed by the same injustice that had sentenced a child to die-
Guinevere took a deep breath; she needed to study.
-"You'll understand what life is if you think about the act of dying."-
Guinevere rolled her eyes. Was this truly her assignment?
*-"When I die, how will I be different from the way I am right now? In the first moments after death, my body will be scarcely different in physical terms than it was in the last seconds of life, but I will no longer move, no longer sense, nor speak, nor feel, nor care. It's these things that are life. At that moment, the psyche takes flight in the last breath"-
His burial cairn, a pile stones. Elyan wasn't there. Lancelot wasn't there. the neighbors avoiding her out of fear, Merlin mysteriously absent- somehow, though, Prince Arthur-
-The Prince of Camelot, piling stones for a peasant's grave-
-but he had saved Mordred and not her father.
Gwen resisted the well of emotions, busied herself checking on Mordred. Sometimes a patient might become fevered after a healing trance. He wasn't; his breathing was slow and normal.
Not her father, but-
-The Prince of Camelot making all haste to rescue a girl that -surely, no one else cared about. A peasant maid whose life had already been written off by her king.
-you don't have to be afraid. I won't let anything happen to you-
And Elyan, he had saved Elyan too. And -Elyan had looked down his nose at her.
Guinevere rubbed her forehead, in a failed effort to ease the tension gathering there.
She did not want to think about Elyan-
-as he looked down his nose at her-
or Merlin-
-eyes gray as the sky, melancholy and sad-
or Arthur today-
his back broad and mailed, confronting her was an act of war, "I really can't care."
-"in the end you'll love these things as well if you let yourself."
Father Flaejer was right. She had a home, a wardrobe, a position, and even friends. Suddenly wanting friends, comfort during her unhappiness, Gwen took a final glance at Mordred and set her book down.
A cheerful tune, as light as she was heavy greeted her, upon leaving the guest room and Gwen started down the stairs familiar enough with the townhouse now to need only the dim light of setting sun to navigate it's stairs and halls. The song was one of the formal dances of the court. What kind of party was this going to be?
She found Synove and another dark-haired woman in the parlor. Neither bothered with the chairs or padded bench for seating, preferring, instead to sit on the parlor floor amidst a collection of cushions and pillows. It was not yet fully dark, and the last rays of the dying sun leant a faint orange glow to the white candlelight. The song they were playing came to an, end and the stranger frowned.
"It's not right."
Gwen hadn't noticed anything amiss.
"You're overdoing it at the end," Synove said. "You do this," she demonstrated, "when you should do this."
If there was a difference, Guinevere could not detect, but the other woman did.
The stranger sighed then smiling leaned toward Synove.
"If only I'd have had you for a teacher."
"Well," Synove smiled and then seemed to preen before fluttering her eyelashes at the other woman. "You've got me now."
Gwen started to walk away, feeling as if she were an intruder, but the moment passed and the stranger started to play again, practicing the fingering Synove had suggested. Guinevere fidgeted where she stood and Synove looked up.
"Hi Jen," Synove greeted her with a little smile. "This is my friend Rosaline. Rosaline, this is Jen. We're practicing the music for Ms. Alfonsa's party."
"Oh."
"You're welcome to join us. We could use an audience."
"Yes, we surely could, and Synove has told me a lot about you. I'm deathly curious about Camelot," Rosaline said.
"Thank you, but I'm quite tired. I'm unused to a full day of work," Gwen explained.
"Of course, you don't want to sit up and listen to our plucking," Rosaline gave a self-deprecating smile and under any other circumstances Guinevere probably would have taken a liking to her right then.
"Do either of you know where Ylsa is? I have a bit of a headache."
"She went upstairs," Synove explained. "She is probably asleep."
"Of course," Gwen said, and she could almost hear a quaver in her voice. "She had a long day and took care of Mordred at the end of it."
"Jen, are you unwell?" A frown creased Synove's brow,and Gwen could see her getting ready to flutter all about, being some cross between a mother hen and a wounded bird.
"No, I am just tired," she forced a smile. "Long day- I am unused to it."
"Of course. I never asked how it went.""Tomorrow, Synove, tomorrow." She turned then and hurried away unable to tolerate another moment.
Gwen went upstairs to their shared bedroom, hoping that just maybe her friend was still awake. She found the midwife fast asleep, dark hair covered with a soft muslin cap.
"Ylsa," she said the other woman's name in a loud whisper. Perhaps she'd only just closed her eyes.
When there was no reply, Gwen sighed and walked into the bedroom, the white light of the moon her only candle. She stood over Ylsa's bed a moment, studying her, peaceful and relaxed in sleep. Finally she pursed her lips and sat across from the other woman on her own bed. Ylsa was always running hither and tither after her mothers. It would be selfish to wake her.
"Ylsa, wake-up," Gwen whispered, hoping the other woman would hear, but truly, not wanting to disturb her friend.
"I met Mordred in Camelot," she murmured tugging at the ties on her linen cap. "Uther had his father killed, would've killed him as well, but we- no I was too much a coward in those days- Merlin and Morgana saved him, hid him, and protected him. Arthur smuggled him out of Camelot. I only watched it unfold. I didn't find any true courage until later when my own father was killed by the same unjust laws that killed Padrig, killed Mordred's father." Guinevere stood and shrugged out of her linen smock. "Prince Arthur always had so much courage. He risked everything for his friends, for his servants. He saved my life, my brother's- It's part of why I fell in love with him." Gwen shrugged, leant back on one elbow, a slight smile on her face.
"-I relinquish my right to the throne."
She'd been stunned into disbelieving confusion in the moment, but later- oh later, out of danger- Guinevere began undoing the hooks on her surcoat.
She'd been in rapturous heaven. Surely she did not want Arthur to give up his throne, but she could have died from ecstasy -had many times. Her smile grew for a moment, but again her mind wandered to that burial cairn.
-they put him into the earth and marked his grave with a pile of white stones-
"It is isolated here and beautiful. You can look down into the lower town," Arthur pointed down. "Your house is there."
She couldn't see it in the darkness, but she believed him.
"I can see this hillock from town as well."
"Yes-"
"He was there when my father died; Morgana too, but- I mean for me. They would not bury him in the church graveyard. He was considered a criminal. Merlin had agreed to help me take care of Father's body, agreed that I should meet him in the Prince's chamber at the end of his shift. When I went to look for him, he wasn't there. Instead Arthur found me, crying. I was much too distraught to be the meek, humble servant, hiding my sorrow for the convenience of the mighty."
"When he asked what was wrong, I told him the truth. I cried on Prince Arthur's shoulder, and in the middle of the night, he came to my home with two mute servants and together the four of us crept out of Camelot and raised his funeral cairn." Her lip curled in the barest hint of a smile at the memory. "He is a good man."
-She could not let him kill Lancelot. He was angry now, when his anger was gone he would remember that Lancelot saved his life, remember how much Lancelot had sacrificed for Camelot, he would find it unjust; he would not forgive himself-
She did not think beyond that. If there was one thing Guinevere knew with all heart it was that Arthur would not hurt her. She used that now. Threw herself between the two men.
In later days, she would wonder if she should have let him kill Lancelot then and there, because she had been right: Arthur would never hurt her, and they both knew it.
And it was that that shattered and broke his heart. The thought, the idea, that she had turned his love against him to save another. In just that moment, everything in him came to a stop. And Gwen knew she had broken him-
"He is a good man," she said it in the barest, tear choked whisper. "He did not deserve what I did to him. He did not deserve that from me. I don't deserve his forgiveness. He loved me."
She started to cry then, not the loud, broken, heart rending sobs torn out of her after she'd nearly drowned, but a stream of bitter grieving tears that could not be checked.
"Jen?"
It was Ylsa's voice soft, raspy, and confused with sleep, that reached her. Gwen started and wiped at her face trying desperately to muffle the flow of tears.
"You're crying?" Ylsa sat up now.
"No." The tears continued their steady trickle and Gwen shook her head at her own lie. "Yes. I'm sorry; I didn't want to wake you."
Ylsa got out of bed then.
"You just called me your best friend. I think perhaps it is all right to wake me if you need me."
"But you're always being woken up by your mothers." Gwen felt her bed shift under Ylsa's weight as the other woman settled beside her.
"Yeah, yeah," Ylsa shrugged, "life of a midwife." Ylsa put her arms around her with those words and Gwen felt an immediate lessening of her unhappiness. "What hurts?"
Ylsa hadn't heard anything she'd said?
"I was just thinking about my father, about Mordred's father." She took a deep breath. "He and I have something in common. Our fathers were executed by Uther for sorcery."
"Jen." She could hear piteous sorrow in Ylsa's voice.
"My father had no knowledge of how to practice magic." She heard Ylsa gasp, but went on. "He committed no crime; he was an innocent man. The alchemist took advantage of his ignorance."
"Oh, my God, my poor, dear Jen. Cry as much as you want." Ylsa stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. "Cry as much as you want."
She could have laughed at Ylsa's words were she not so unhappy. In that moment Guinevere could no more have stopped crying than she could have grown wings to fly. But it was easier somehow to let the tears flow with Ylsa there. Easier to sit and let Ylsa rub her back and shoulders, and tut-tut in her ear. Easier to let herself cry and be soothed until she was wrung out, and Ylsa's small brown hands were tucking her into sleep.
*S01x08 The Beginning of the End
*S01x12 To Kill the King
additional notes- so I meant to add this note when I published this chapter, but I forgot, sorry. Anywho I was looking at one of the many s5 pics of Gwen and Elyan at Tom's grave and I got to wondering how the hell Gwen got him out there. S1 Gwen doesn't have money or resources. Burying people or preventing them from being buried in certain places was a big thing in the ancient and medieval world. Like the whole plot of Antigone is where will her brother's body be laid to rest and people die to get the man a proper burial or prevent one.
One of the things I learned in researching the medieval period is that there was very little consistency. What might be rule of law in one city, town or kingdom was opposite in another. But obviously in Camelot criminals are not buried in church graveyards nor cremated in boat ceremonies. My guess is that criminals are simply left to rot and its up to their families to take on the burden of burying them. Under this scenario I think both Merlin or Morgana are obvious choices to help Gwen, but well the Arwen shipper in me started jumping up and down and waving her arms about screaming "Arthur! Arthur!"
She then calmly explain that Morgana and Merlin were busy with Morgana's assasination plot leaving only Arthur. She then reminded me that Arthur said he would do anything to help Gwen out with her father and further pointed out that something more should account for Gwen's changing attitudes about Arthur and finally being in love with him in season 2.
So voila, Arthur not only helped her bury Tom, but also recommended the spot, because it has a direct line of sight from the lower town as well as into town.
Another play I thought about while writing this chapter or a specific line from a play was Hamlet. I don't know if you guys know the play Hamlet really well, but there is a fairly famous line in Act 5, Scene 2 from Benedick to Beatrice:
I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy
eyes—
;)
Betad this week by Sonja, and Shanel. Yep I need lots of help. :D
I hope everyone is having a great holiday. As always I want to know what you think about this update. How do you feel about Ylsa and Gwen's friendship? I think she needs a bff myself. And yeah Mordred is gonna be with us for a little while, but whether that bodes well or ill you'll just have to keep reading to see.