Page 18 of The White Enchantress

“Lancelot, why are you running around half-naked?” Morgana asks, approaching me with a hasty step.

“The White Enchantress. I met her at the lake. Something frightened her. She ran without a word. I am looking for her.”

“Perhaps it was you who frightened her?” An all-knowing look stings my already delicate heart.

“That is what I wish to know. Apologize if I did anything to upset the lady.”

“Mmph,” Morgana grunts. “I know you are oblivious to the effect you have on women, Lancelot. But in this case, I believe her reaction was due to other circumstances. She has spoken of you in her…prophecies. Perhaps Guinevere is hesitant to face the things she knows will come. Do not ask me; she has not spoken of these visions to me or your mother. However, when she arrived, your name was one of the few words she mentioned. Guinevere had seemed frightened of the possibility of meeting you. Nevertheless,I will speak with her. I can see that meeting her has affected you deeply as well.”

“Thank you, Morgana.”

With a sharp nod, Morgana makes her way into the main building where all the sleeping quarters and common living areas are housed. She does not return though. I soon become aware of the priestesses’ hungry stares in my direction. My tunic is still at the lake’s shore, so I hastily make my way back to retrieve it. My mother forbade me to seduce any of the priestesses at Avalon, not that I had wanted to. I grew up with these women. They were my sisters.

Guinevere is the first new face in Avalon for years. However, this is not the reason for my lustful and greedy thoughts. Something powerful draws me to her. Whether it is her physical allure, the fantastical image of her shooting out of Lake Avalon that has been stuck in my mind for a week, or an invisible force pushing me towards her, I do not know. But I need to be in her life.

Chapter 8

Guinevere

When Sir Lancelot catchessight of me looking out my window, I jolt back in my bed, hoping he won’t try to come up to see me. For weeks I have felt so alone, talking to no one besides Vivienne and Morgana. All the other women on the island are terrified of me. No one will look at me.

With the Midsummer feast coming up, everyone on the island has begun preparations for the festivities. A couple of novices are to become priestesses of Avalon on the solstice. I had offered my help, needing to do something, but all I get are strange looks and cold shoulders. I am a stranger in Avalon. I don’t belong here.

This was made clear the first evening I arrived. My empty stomach forced me out of bed in search of food. I had found the dining hall where all the priestesses dined together. Walking over to the first available seat, I sat down and grabbed a piece of crusty bread. Then I quickly filled my plate from the other platters of food in front of me, not caring what I was putting in my mouth.

Even the simple task of eating seemed to frighten the priestesses like I had the plague. I didn’t care. I just sat quietly, eating my dinner and taking in my surroundings. The walls of the hall were made of stone and plaster. Two wrought iron chandeliers holding candles flickering with light hung from wooden beams in the ceiling. A large fireplace roared to life on the far side, two tables away, but I could feel its warmth as if I was sitting right next to it.

I looked down at my plate to grab another piece of chicken and nearly fell over when I saw Excalibur lying on the table in front of me. I hadn’t brought this beastly sword with me, which is why I was shocked to see it next to my plate of food.Was it following me? Could swords follow people?

I soon learned that this sword did follow people, me in particular. Anywhere I went, Excalibur would be there. It didn’t hover behind me but would appear wherever I went. This made the priestesses of Avalon even more fearful of me.

Making myself scarce seemed the only thing to do. So I developed a routine of walking to the lake every morning. I knew the path, the same path I had been led down upon arriving at Avalon. But today, I wasn’t the only one seeking the solitary silence from the lake.

The door to my room creaks open, making me jump off my bed. My heart stops beating, assuming that Lancelot has made his way up to my room. But it’s Morgana who walks through the door. I let out my breath, relieved that it wasn’t Lancelot himself bargingin. As she enters my room, Morgana informs me that Lancelot has been asking for me.

“I can’t see him. Just tell him I’ve fallen ill.”

“I do not understand. Did Lancelot do something to you?”

“No, it’s just…I sort of fell in love with him in two seconds. I don’t know if it’s real or if my mind is playing tricks on me. That’s Lancelot, Sir fucking Lancelot! Goddammit, he is fucking gorgeous. And his energy is electric,” I say while nervously pacing back and forth in front of the cold, barren fireplace.

“You are not the first girl to fall head over heels in love with Lancelot, nor will you be the last. I had similar feelings when I was a much younger woman. He is a very handsome man.”

I plop back onto my bed. “Handsome is not a powerful enough word to describe how beautiful that man is. But maybe you are right. Maybe this is just a temporary infatuation. The shock of seeing him, knowing who he is and what he could be to me.”

Morgana walks over to my bed and sits next to me. “What is truly troubling you? Please, you can speak with me about anything.”

I sigh in defeat, knowing I must tell someone what I know, or what I think I know. “It’s time I told you and Vivienne about the Legend of King Arthur.”

Vivienne walks in unannounced as if she’s read my mind. “Guinevere, is something the matter? The priestesses are all whispering that my son is looking for you. That you had run away from him, frightened.”

“My lady, I’m really sorry. I should have told you sooner. You have shown me nothing but kindness since my arrival. But I’ve been too shocked to comprehend it all. There are things that I know, or at least I think I know, about what will happen to King Arthur and his kingdom. In my time, Arthur is only a legend, not part of our history. Many have attempted to prove that Arthur and his knights of the round table existed. There are so many versions of the story, but none are accepted as history. I will tell you this,” I hesitate, unsure how to explain the impossible.

“If I amtheGuinevere in all these stories, then I am the reason for the destruction of King Arthur and his kingdom. This is my fate, to marry a king but love another. And that love will be the death of so many people. I cannot bear to fall in love with a man I can’t have. I will not live that life. I refuse to let that be my fate.”

I think of my mom. How she lived eighteen years of her life in love with a man who she couldn’t be with. As I got older, I wondered if that was the reason why my mom had named me Guinevere. A woman trapped, torn between love and duty.

Vivienne cups my chin in her hand, saying, “Guinevere, you are the White Enchantress. You are the one who has brought the sword of power to us. You will give it to King Arthur. He will use it to unite the kingdoms of Britain. How could you be the destroyer of all when you are the bringer of light? Do you know how you survived the journey to this place, out of the lake?”

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