Previously in The Exile
Chapter 16 The Aftermath
"Ahh Merlin just in time," Arthur said looking up from his work.
Merlin froze and that acid feeling of guilt burned in his stomach. When had Arthur's skin become so dull, his complexion tinged with an unhealthy yellow? His cheekbones always prominent were still more visible, dark circles rode heavy and black under his eyes and somehow he seemed even to have aged. Gwen had looked equally wretched in his vision.
Chapter 34 The Liberation of Caer
"I-I-I found them," his voice shook as he spoke. "Dresden and Esylt. They were dead, eaten," Arthur shook his head. "I envied their happiness, their wedding. When we saw them just yesterday morning, I wanted nothing more than to take up their lives in place of Guinevere's and my own."
She didn't say anything, so he kept going.
"Aunt, I do not even know if Guinevere is truly alive or dead. And Morgana -my sister- she is relentless in her destruction." He felt so tired. "So many innocent lives ruined."
When she gave him a puzzled look, Arthur sighed.
"Guinevere did not betray of her own will. Morgana sent her a charm in the guise of a gift from an old and trusted friend. This charm took her will-" For a moment he thought of the two Sarah Goodes he'd met the night the woman died. The lascivious, selfish, callow woman who thought of nothing save her own base pleasures and the broken woman unable to live with the world that had destroyed her happiness.
"This charm was in the form of a silver bracelet, and it made Guinevere into a selfish, callow woman who thought of nothing beyond the moment.
"Powerful magic," She said softly.
"I saw its work upon another unfortunate with my own eyes."
"I'm so sorry my nephew, but" and she started to smile now, "I think I can help you. I can answer the question that is weighing upon your heart and mind. I can show you whether or not Guinevere lives."
The Exile
Part 2, Jenafeare
Chapter 36: The Hour,'Tween
The moon was gone. It was the liminal hour, the 'tween time when the moon had passed from their sky, but the sun had not yet risen, neither night nor day. There were stories about 'tween times, tween places. Stories about Fair Folk, danger, and adventure.
King Arthur Pendragon leaned forward letting his forearms rest on his knees as he looked up at the dark, pre-dawn sky. When he had been a 'tween himself, he'd sought the such times for adventure, for testing, for proving. Then he'd had all the testing against which a young man could ever hope to prove himself. So much so that is seemed now he lived only in 'tween times.
He turned his eyes from the sky to the earth, let them rove over the plants of the Ringtree Fort garden. Here and there he picked out shapes amidst the shadows the outline of a leaf, or a blossom closed tight for the night. Sitting amongst the herbs he could smell thyme, basil, sage, and others he did not recognize.
When he'd found himself waking in the dark hours for the first time since coming to the Ring Tree Fort while all others slept, at first Arthur had simply lain in his bed. The frustration he'd grown used to feeling in those moments hadn't come and he'd thought at first that sleep would take him again. Yet it hadn't; his mind had turned over thought after thought until it was impossible for sleep to come again.
The first hints of sunlight began to brighten the shy, lightening the dark blue of deep night into a paler milky color, glinting on Guinevere's ring as Arthur spun it in his fingers.
It seemed he lived his life in liminal times: the 'tween time of Uther's illness until his assassination, himself a newly crowned, uncertain king,now a king without his throne and there was liminal Guinevere.
Did she live? Was she dead? Had she betrayed him of her own will or been driven to it? He knew the answer to the last, but not the first.
-"we can find out if Guinevere is truly alive or dead"-
An end to the 'tween time and yet...He traced the inside of Guinevere's ring with his thumb and then slipped it on his fingers one-by-one. Thumb, forefinger, middle, ring and finally pinkie where it slid firmly into place.
The king smiled a bit, held up his hand high, let the orange and gold rays of now breaking dawn slip through his fingers. Watched the light glint off the silver metal that normally hung round his neck.
His smile faded with a sigh; it didn't belong there.
Arthur slid the ring off his finger and dropped the chain back into its place around his neck. He tucked it safely under his tunic, over his heart and let his hand linger there a moment. Another liminal space, but more fitting somehow.
The sun came up around him in waves of orange, gold and pink spilling over blue sky, dying broken clouds with brilliant hues, flooding the spaces between them with molten rivers of shimmering copper. Arthur watched and found himself unmoved and this was also strange.
Even in the depths of unhappiness he might watch a sunrise and admire it's beauty, be cheered in spite of himself. Regardless of his own sad state, the world was not a wholly grim and miserable place; good things endured. He could, if he chose, run away from the weight of his duty; live a life of simple pleasures. He wouldn't, but it was a fancy he sometimes indulged.
In his mind Arthur knew it was beautiful, but not in his heart. Perhaps it was not these things that were liminal, but himself. He no longer had a place.
Slowly the fort stirred to life. Its inhabitants waking with the day. 'Ere long he heard Ismene and Drystan running to and fro. He heard the clang of pots, smelled breakfast. Someone would come looking for him soon.
His thoughts could have been a herald for not a moment later Arthur turned his head at the sound of running feet. Drystan stopped on the edge of the herb garden and bowed. This reached Arthur and he frowned.
"Drystan, please don't-"
"-Mom says to come for breakfast."
Arthur smirked at the interruption, his nephew's courtly manners did not extended very far.
"Thank you, Drystan."
"You're welcome, your highness."
He almost corrected the boy, but thought the better of it. He'd talk to Ambrose and Rhosyn instead let them explain that nothing needed to change. Drystan took off running back the way he'd come and Arthur headed inside for breakfast.
They had returned from a victory at Caer to talking paper, filled with streams of chatter. The talking paper, didn't truly talk, but was enchanted so that if someone wrote words on a sheet far away the words would appear on the mate to that sheet almost instantaneously in most cases. Ambrose and Rhosyn had demonstrated it for him last night. He'd been amazed then.
There had been nothing unusual in the talking papers before they'd left, but they'd returned from Caer to pages full. Some had simply come in late, but other responses had mentioned the victory at Caer. The importance of the talking paper and swift action was clear, but they were, all of them exhausted. Still the talking paper, Morgana all of that would have to be addressed today.
Breakfast in the Ring Tree fort was the same noisy affair it had been before they'd left for Caer. Arthur now with Sir Palamedes, Sir Kay and Sir Morien joined Ambrose and his family. Aikat and Drystan plied the knights with questions, and Ismene glared while Rhosyn nursed Nerys as she ate in an attempt to distract the babe from her mother's breakfast plate. It worked, mostly. Ambrose looked smugly pleased for the most part and if anyone noticed Arthur's silence, none commented. He ate his food without really noticing the taste of it, mind still absorbed with his early morning thoughts. When they'd finished, his aunt reminded him of her promise.
Arthur sneezed and surveyed his aunt's work room, a small crowded space. Like most of the rooms in the old fort it was small, it's tiny high windows permitting minimal sunlight. Light from coal braziers up on the wall supplemented the limited sunlight and a fragrant stream of smoke wisped from them. Shelves and cabinets with a collection of jars, jugs, boxes and scrolls lined the walls and a variety of spices blended into a warm, strong scent that hung heavy in the air.
His aunt sat in the center of it at a round wooden table, old, scratched, scarred, but sturdy looking.
"Sit please."
Arthur did as she said, sneezing as he settled on the bench across from her. He wrinkled his nose and Rhosyn gave him a sympathetic smile.
"Sorry, it is always stuffy in here. I think I'm used to it though."
Arthur shrugged for reply.
"Before we begin what is your exact date and time of birth?"
"Forgive me aunt, but what precisely are we doing and why is the time of my birth important?"
She smiled. "I am doing a seeing for you. Guinevere's unknown fate sits on your heart and mind like weight. A Seeing can remove that weight."
"Magic?" Arthur frowned as he felt an involuntary stirring of fear, the first thing he'd felt since collapsing in exhaustion the previous evening. "Aunt?"
"Do you believe there are forces in the world for good Arthur?"
"I don't know," Arthur said. He had thought once that God was with him. That those inexplicable victories were signs of divine right, now…."There must be," he said at last. "But…."
"There is good in the world, there are forces for good and when one learns to listen to those forces one becomes an instrument of good, we all -whether we know it or not- have guardians that will assist us if we but listen. You may not have known it my nephew, but you have prayed long and hard for an answer to this question, and the divine forces have heard that prayer."
Arthur's heart leapt, though outward he kept his face calm and impassive.
"I can help you get an answer to that question as well as offer you some further insight."
"Further insight? You mean a horoscope." He'd heard of them, but he'd never had one though. They were considered a science and many rulers paid very well to have them cast.
"Yes, a horoscope."
After a moment Arthur nodded. He didn't know if he would ever pay for one, but his aunt was offering this service for free. He told her the date and time of his birth as best he knew them and watched her write the information down.
She then took a box from one of her shelves. From it she pulled a silk wrapped bundle and the scent elder wafted through the room. The box she closed and set under the table. Then she unwrapped the bundle and spread the silk cloth over the table so that it covered the wood. Then she placed a gleaming silver mirror on the table, a carved wooden cross, an incense burner and several cones of incense.
She dipped her incense cones into the candle flames and put them into the burner. Rhosyn placed the mirror in front of him with an admonition that he not touch it. The incense burner she sat in the center of the table.
"Now, Arthur, breath deep and relax."
"Wait, Aunt. What if I don't like the answer?" He could hear an edge of panic in his voice, the fear that he'd felt earlier growing.
She paused, head cocked to one side, dark eyes sympathetic.
"That is a fear we all hold. That we will not like the truths God reveals to us, that we will not like the direction that God takes our life in. That is why we all have free will. You are free to turn away. To nourish the hopes in your heart, but if they are in denial of reality what can you hope to achieve?"
"But what if I learn that she is truly dead?"
"Then you shall continue to mourn her and we shall support you. Now what if you learn that she lives?"
Arthur stared at her uncertain what to say or do, but not liking the suggestion of living in denial of reality.
"I think you have lived a very long time with many truths kept secret from you."
Morgause had shown him an unpleasant reality once, a reality that he knew to be the truth in his own heart and he had let another convince him to follow a sweeter lie.
"You are right, Aunt." He took a deep breath. He had never shied away from any battle nor any foe that he feared. "I need to know whether I like it or not."
"A wise choice." She smiled encouragingly and laid her hands on the table palms up. "Place your hands on the table like mine."
He did as she said.
"Listen carefully Arthur; visions are unpredictable. You may see one thing, you may see many. What you see may be the past, present or future."
He nodded.
"Keep Guinevere and your questions firm in your mind. Do not let yourself be drawn astray by anything else that you see, understand?"
"Yes."
"Good, now close your eyes and breathe deeply."
Again he did as she commanded inhaling the fragrance of the incense, warm and sweet, Arthur could detect lavender mingled with other scents he did not recognize.
"Good, keep breathing in and out taking the scent each time and as you breathe you are going to grow more and more relaxed. Relaxed and open. Not open to anything, but to the good of the world, to wisdom, to truth."
He did as she directed and grew calmer with each breath, the calm building a confidence in his choice; he would learn, and whatever he learned he would persevere.
"When you are feeling relaxed and open, I want you to picture Guinevere in your mind. Think about her hair, her eyes, her smile. Think of all the little details, her walk, the sound of her tread…. Her voice."
"I thought you might wear it for luck."
Curls, dark shoulder length curls, framing her sweet face. Brown cheeks warm and rosy, and then she moved into his space suddenly, smelling of magnolia blossoms, the fear and hesitance replaced with hope. Maybe it was the tingling warmth of her hand touching his, maybe it was the swell of her bosom and the teasing ruffle that edged the neckline of her dress, but the truth was he'd been thinking of kissing her for so long and he could see the invitation in her every movement….
"When you have pictured her clearly in your mind, remember your question. Hold it firm in your mind and heart and then I want you to open your eyes and look into the mirror."
Does Guinevere live? Is she safe? Will we meet again?
Arthur opened his eyes and looked down at the mirror. It gleamed silver and bright, smooth to the point of perfection a simple shining circle. As he gazed upon it though,rather than reflecting, it seemed to draw in the light until the room was dark and his aunt, his surroundings were hidden, shrouded.
Guinevere held a child- smushed, bloody, squalling, tiny limbs flailing in fear and anger and surely newly born in her arms- one hand a gentle cradle under the infant's head. Arthur watched as she eased him into a small wooden tub of steaming water keeping his little nose and mouth just above the surface. The child quieted and Arthur watched as she ran her hands over the tiny body washing away blood and clinging mucus. When the infant was clean, she swaddled him, bringing his little arms to his chest and tucking up his little legs. Humming and cooing over the newborn babe as she did so.
"Tesni you have a perfect little boy…"She spoke to someone he could not see, a serene smile on her face….
….She wore an expression he had never seen before.
Arthur had observed his love in joy, in anger, in sadness, in the more subtle sorrow, in grief and in relief. He could recall with ease the way joy had mixed with dumbfounded disbelief when he'd asked her to marry him, or the languid, satiated expression he'd been allowed to observe on more than one occasion, or even the sleeping innocence he'd been privy to that chaste night she'd fallen asleep on his shoulder.
What he had never seen on her face was the cool rage he observed now, a murderous expression he would never have believed Guinevere could wear….
"But why?"
He saw not Guinevere now, but a man and woman hidden in shadows. The man loomed over the woman, first shaking and then striking her before whipping her around so that he saw pale rounded arms- Not Guinevere.
Rhosyn had warned him to not be distracted by the things he was seeing. He forced his mind back to that moment just before they'd kissed that first time.
"Will we meet again?"
…To his left sat a foreign king, a man with reddish hair, reigning over the highboard. While he felt no animosity with the foreign king, the man's attention was elsewhere leaving him to speak with the person to his right.
Laughter from somewhere in the hall drew his attention. Arthur glanced down at the lower table and saw the source of the laughter. Gwaine and a blonde woman sitting beside him.
"Tell me, your majesty, do they have Caldeirada in Camelot?"
"No Senor Anton, octopus is not something that one finds often in Camelot." Arthur hadn't imaged such creatures existed.
Gwaine laughed again, louder this time. Arthur looked down and the other man's head was thrown back as he laughed and now Arthur could see that Gwaine's dinner companion was Aikat. The pair looked casual, yet their arms resting side-by-side on the table, pinky fingers touching. The knight leaned down to whisper something in Aikat's ear and Arthur watched as a flush spread through her limbs
"What was Gwaine doing with Aikat?"
Aikat and Gwaine on a moonlight night. Gwaine stood with his back to the girl.
"But I love you."
She put her arms around him, pressed her cheek against his broad back.
Again he recalled his aunt's admonition- "you mustn't lose focus." Gwaine and Aikat were unimportant.
Somehow it was harder to build her image in his mind, but he did.
"Will we meet again?"
He was back at the table, in the court of the foreign king, but it was darker now. The vision not so clear, not so bright shadows loomed along the edges. Arthur told himself to concentrate. He must know.
"Will we meet again?"
The king tapped his fork against his goblet. A hush fell over the hall and all eyes followed the foreign king's gaze. The object of the king's attention, a petite lady wearing a gown of shimmering, ocean blue gleaming against warm brown skin that shown with the golden light of the morning sun froze. Her face was turned away from him in that first moment and Arthur could see only her familiar profile, but he knew, he knew….
The vision grew clear, bright, perhaps clearer and brighter than anything he'd ever seen in life.
"Vizcondesa Jinfer."
The lady turned her head and seeing her face was the confirmation of what he'd known the moment his eyes landed upon her.
ItwasGuinevere!Hewouldseeheragainand-
"Your majesty." Her dark eyes flicked to him and back to the king. It happened so fast that if he hadn't been waiting for it, he would not have seen it.
"I trust your errand was a success," the king smiled as he asked the question.
"Yes, your majesty," she smiled and curtsied in return.
"Very well, please join us and thank you for all of your efforts on our behalf Vizcondesa."
"It is my honor to serve your majesty."
The king's smile broadened and Arthur knew two things. That this Vizcondesa Jinfer was Guinevere and she was a favorite of the king.
The vision began to darken then, as if all the light somehow drained from the hall. He strained to see. Saw Guinevere curtsy, start toward a seat that had been left open for him. Did her head turn in his direction? There were so many shadows now.
They would meet again!
But how?
For one moment longer the vision grew clear and bright, but he saw no court, instead Icons, two of them. Haloed saints, one with an anvil at his feet. And then like all things conjured of magic it was gone.
Arthur lifted his head and stared at his aunt.
"That's it?"
"Yes."
"But, but-" his mouth worked. Guinevere was alive, but-
"Aunt, you must show me more," he said. "I need to know where and how and-"
"Arthur, tell me what you saw?"
He stared at her.
"You did not see it?"
"That is the way sometimes; these things were shown only to you."
He took a deep breath and told her of his visions. Of Guinevere bathing and holding a newborn infant. The second more troubling vision of Guinevere with murderous intent in her face and the third, the longest, where they might finally meet again, Guinevere dressed in the wealth of a noblewoman at a foreign court and finally the two icons. For some reason he left out the part about the strangers and Aikat.
"Were they true visions of the future?"
"It does indeed seem as if they are visions of things yet to happen."
"What could the icons mean?" Arthur's tone was hopeful. "Aunt."
"Be silent for a moment, Arthur." She looked away from him, head to one side, expression tense concentrating very carefully on something only she could hear. Arthur watched her, hands gripping the table as he waited, looking for any change in her countenance that might reveal any answer.
"I cannot say if they are visions of things yet to come or already come to pass. The vision where you and she are guests at a foreign court is obviously sometime in the future, but of the others I am uncertain. What I can tell you about the future you saw is that it is only the thing that is most likely to happen." Her dark eyes were serious.
"Most likely?"
"Yes. A chance meeting, a choice of right rather than left could make all the difference. Everything you saw may come to pass just as you saw it or differently than you saw or not all."
"So the only thing I can take from this with any certainty is that right now Guinevere lives and," Arthur felt such a lightening of his entire spirit that for just a moment he paused as a wide smile took shape on his face. She lived and she prospered and it seemed that she was safe. "We will most likely meet again?" Arthur asked that question even as he got to his feet.
"Yes."
He started for the workroom door.
"Arthur, where are you going?" Rhosyn asked, a chastising note in her tone that suggested she knew the answer to that question better than he did.
He froze, "I have to-" He almost said I have to go find Guinevere, but he knew couldn't do that not now, not yet. Still the urge surged again. "I don't know."
"Sit down," she said.
Feeling not a little embarrassed Arthur did as told.
"Drink this," she handed him a wineskin. Unstoppered though, Arthur frowned at the sharp, pungent smell.
"What is it? I should probably talk to Uncle Ambrose."
"Drink it, Arthur." She ordered and he obeyed, something in her tone…
Arthur took a swig and coughed, spluttering at the taste.
"God, aunt, what is it? It tastes like rotted turnips!"
"Something to help keep you grounded, sensible not floating off into the heavens or following whims."
The cloudy feeling that had overcome him at the beginning of the Seeing faded a bit, but even his aunt's bitter brew could not wipe the smile from his face. Whoever's court that was he was king, and Guinevere was there and looked well and they would meet again and-
"I saw Aikat."
"Aikat?" Rhosyn's eyes went wide she waited attention fixed on him.
Arthur considered what he had seen. Aikat a knight, but professing love to Gwaine.
"How did my daughter fare?" Her cool, controlled composure was gone.
"She seemed well. She was a knight. She was with the knights at the foreign court."
"Oh." The older woman pursed her lips and looked away from him, eyes roving the work room as if seeking something..
"Aunt?"Arthur made a question of the word as something dawned on him. "Have you never looked into the futures of your children?"
She stared up at him for a moment.
"No, but you said she was well?"
Arthur nodded.
Rhosyn sat back and crossed her arms, expression contemplative. Arthur for his part felt his smile growing again. Guinevere was alive. They would meet again.
"I need to clean up, Arthur." Her frown deepened as she spoke, tone distant, almost dismissive. "Check on Nerys for me and keep drinking that."
"I will."
Arthur didn't argue with any of that, instead he did as his aunt told him. He found Drystan playing with Nerys and relieved the boy of his baby sitting duties, by taking the girl outside. Holding his nine month old cousin in one arm, Arthur strolled out into the herb garden where he'd sat as the sun came up only a few short hours ago.
Again he sat and savored the pleasant fragrances of thyme and rosemary, the air clearing the cloudy feeling from his head while Nerys sat in his lap chattering at him. Her happy burbles sounding more and more like short sentences and incomplete words, than pure baby gibberish. She went for the wineskin until he let her smell it. At which time Nerys frowned and stuck out her tongue to show her disapproval.
"I don't like it either." Arthur confided, the girl smiled then and started chewing his shirt.
As his head cleared, the urge to ride off seeking Guinevere faded. Morgana was a threat to Guinevere, and there was no question of him abandoning Camelot, not now, not ever. He sipped the wine as Nerys wriggled to be let out of his arms, grasping hands reaching for butterflies. Amused he sat the girl on the ground and watched her crawl toward the fluttering insects, amazed by just how fast a crawling baby could move.
The early morning quiet had been replaced by all the activity of life. Fat dark birds sat in the tree branches singing, rabbits and chipmunks rustled in the shrubs, bees buzzed in and out of blooming flowers doing their work.
-The lady turned her head and seeing her face was the confirmation of what he'd known the moment his eyes landed upon her.
"Your majesty." Her dark eyes flicked to him and back to the king. It happened so fast that if he hadn't been waiting for it, he would not have seen it.-
With patient concentration, Arthur summoned that moment in his vision. Guinevere in a dress of shimmering ocean blue, tawny skin golden in the evening firelight, her neck and shoulders bare for the world, her marvelous bosom rising and falling with each breath, her dark eyes seeing him and pretending that they hadn't. Guinevere his- no. Arthur halted that thought. He had no right to claim her. But she lived and prospered. There was always hope.
Guinevere was alive, and they would meet again.
A/N-
I want to share a couple excerpts with you guys on liminal spaces:
"...a unique spiritual position where human beings hate to be but where the biblical God is always leading them. It is when you have left the tried and true, but have not yet been able to replace it with anything else. It is when you are finally out of the way. It is when you are between your old comfort zone and any possible new answer. If you are not trained in how to hold anxiety, how to live with ambiguity, how to entrust and wait, you will run…anything to flee this terrible cloud of unknowing."
- Richard Rohr
"More conventionally, springs, caves, shores, rivers, volcanic calderas - 'a huge crater of an extinct volcano...[as] another symbol of transcendence'[64] - fords, passes, crossroads, bridges, and marshes are all liminal: '"edges", borders or faultlines between the legitimate and the illegitimate'.[65] Oedipus (an adoptee and therefore liminal) met his father at the crossroads and killed him; the bluesman Robert Johnson met the devil at the crossroads, where he is said to have sold his soul. Major transformations occur at crossroads and other liminal places, at least partly because liminality—being so unstable—can pave the way for access to esoteric knowledge or understanding of both sides.[66] Liminality is sacred, alluring, and dangerous."
From wikipedia
I've always found liminal spaces and periods fascinating as they are ripe with possibility and change. Train stations, loss of a job or even a loved (though these are obviously difficult times) open up a heretofore unavailable world of options and while I may fear them I also find them enthralling. You guys should read up on them.
Saint Adrian & Natalia of Nicodima, so for anyone looking for clues about Guinevere's future the Saints that Arthur saw are Adrian and Natalia of Nicodiema, patron Saints of soldiers they have many churches dedicated to them.
So next chapter is already done. It picks up with Guinevere where we left off just before Ms. Alfonsa's party after seeing the barrette that Ms. Matilde gave her in Synove's hair.