Page 29 of The White Enchantress

Remembering what my mother had said to me before leaving Avalon, I quickly step back, releasing my hand from her back. The distance between us is too much. I am instantly cold, wanting her back in my arms. I offer her my hand, which she takes withouthesitation, and we make our way back to the stream. When the horses are in sight, I let go of Guinevere’s hand; the warmth of her leaves my body but a flicker remains in my heart.

The next few days go by quickly. Instead of riding in silence like we had been, Guinevere sings her strange songs and I tell stories about my youth, fighting alongside Arthur. I had planned to speak only of Arthur, to give a better picture of the man she will soon meet and possibly marry. My intention is to paint a vision of Arthur’s bravery, generosity, piousness, and humility. However, all that comes from my mouth are stories of my own life.

“I was a ripe fifteen when Vivienne brought me to Arthur’s castle, Camelot. And I had much to prove. Vivienne, if you did not know, is not my true mother. I was abandoned while my parents were fleeing their kingdom. Vivienne found me near the lake, outside Avalon. I did not know who I really was until I became a knight.”

“How old were you when Vivienne found you?”

“Five, I believe. Old enough to have memories of my real parents, though I did not know they were real memories until later in life. Vivienne raised me as her own. She named me Galahad. It was not until later, while serving King Arthur, that I learned my true name. I answered a challenge by the Copper Knight. When I approachedhis castle, I was forced to fight through a guard of twenty knights. I defeated them all single-handedly. The Copper Knight had fled before I reached the keep. But the villagers welcomed me. They told me of a local legend. A stone, one so heavy that no one had been able to lift it. The townsfolk explained that whoever lifted the stone would find his name written underneath. I made an attempt to lift the stone. When I did, the name Lancelot was revealed.”

“Wow, I didn’t know your…that’s an incredible origin story.”

“You say the strangest things.”

Guinevere shrugs. “What happened after? When you learned your true name?”

“When I returned to Camelot, I explained what happened to Arthur. He knew my father, told me he was one of the first kings to give his support. Arthur became king when he was only fifteen. The same age I was when I first arrived at Camelot seeking to become a knight. Many people wanted to take Arthur’s kingdom and power. Arthur held his ground though, with the help of allies like my father. King Ban, that is who my father was. Arthur explained to me how my parents were forced to flee their kingdom. King Claudas seized their lands. They barely made it out alive. My father died from wounds inflicted as they escaped. Arthur took my family’s lands back from King Claudas, but I was never found. I was lost until that moment. My mother, my real mother, had died years before I arrived at Camelot. But my brother and sister were still alive.”

“You’ve lived quite a life. How long ago did all this happen?”

“Did what happen?”

“I’m just curious how old you are because so much has happened to you and you look so young. All those quests, becoming a knight, learning who you are, about the parents you only knew as a small child.”

“I thank you for the compliment. I do feel like an old man at times, though I am only two and twenty.”

“A year younger than me? Huh.”

“You are three and twenty? But you look like a maiden of sixteen.”

“I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or an insult.”

“It is only that, well, women of your age are usually settled and swarmed with children. You told me of your engagement. Were you married before…Josh?” I hesitate to say his name, the man who Guinevere so obviously adores. The thought of her married to another affects me, makes me angry even. I am unsure where this violence comes from as I barely know Guinevere. In fact, I am leading her to a man who will likely offer his hand in marriage. Guinevere would be a fool not to accept.

“Uhh, no. Where I’m from, women tend to marry later in life.”

“Oh. Were you and Josh together for very long?” My throat tightens as I ask this question. I do not know why I asked; it is as if my subconscious has taken over, curious about this mysterious copper-haired lady. I want to know more about her, but I do not care to hear stories of how she loves another man.

“Josh…it’s a little complicated.” Guinevere’s shoulders droop thinking of her man. Suddenly, she looks tired, consumed by her sorrow.

“I apologize. I have no right to ask such a question.”

“No, it’s all right. I just miss him so much. I miss all my family. Josh was my very best friend for the longest time. He helped me through a grieving period that could have easily consumed my whole being. But it wasn’t until recently that I realized we were perhaps something more. And I think he felt the same.”

“You said he was your betrothed.”

“Oh, yeah, I did. Well, we weren’t engaged. I just didn’t know what to call him since we weren’t anything yet. The day I arrived in Avalon, it was my wedding day. I was supposed to marry another man, a man I despised. Josh helped me escape. And then…” Guinevere looks up at the sky, her eyes cemented shut as if attempting to push back tears.

I steer Gringolet toward her horse. Taking one of her hands off the reigns, I give her a squeeze. “I truly am sorry for your loss, Guinevere.” She turns her head toward me, a single tear falling from her eye, and nods. I keep her hand in mine a second longer, then announce we will be arriving in Camelot mid-day on the morrow.

This news does not cheer her as I had hoped. I know the destination is not where Guinevere wants to be. Still, I had hoped she would be happy at the idea of soft beds and warm food.

“Arthur will most likely have a feast planned in your honor. I am salivating thinking of all the foods that will be placed before us. I have grown used to life on the saddle, journeying from one castle to another. Still, I will never get used to dried venison when I know there is a version with gravy accompanied by warm, fluffy bread.”

“Oh, stop it! You are making me hungry now.” Guinevere laughs, wiping her tears away. The sound of her laughter is intoxicating. I offer her a smile in return as our gazes meet, seeing that her sorrow is still billowing inside her.

I ask her to sing one of her strange songs. “Something jovial this time.”

She smirks, a flash of excitement sparkling in her eyes. Singing brings joy to her soul. The tone of the song does not matter; even singing her melancholy songs makes Guinevere glow with happiness. She loves music, loves sharing music with others. It is unmistakable that this love of music comes from her love of another. I wonder if it is Josh.

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