“He will kill you.” She whispers. The ancient stone walls hide her words, capturing her rapid breath sounds, and I pray, concealing my pounding heart. Through a narrow cleft, I can see him pacing — pacing endlessly. Across the great chamber, the King’s guardians, in contradiction to his incessant wandering, stand motionless, one stationed on each side of the veranda’s entryway. There are no suggestions that her words have revealed our hiding place.
Her trembling hand falls upon my shoulder. Looking to her, I can only detect the contours of her face; the darkness of the small antechamber so thick it presses against her skin. She speaks again. Fearing he will hear this time, I place my fingers upon her lips, shaking my head. Struggling to restrain my quavering hand but failing to do so, I quickly retreat. She must not share my fear, although he will cause her no harm. This despot of nature, who has murdered so many, melts in her presence like a hoary waxed candle. Patient! I pray she hears my thoughts. He will soon depart. Battlegrounds beckon his royal presence.
From the King’s chamber, a disturbance pierces my heart! Soldiers have burst into the room; their cumbrous armor clanging loudly with each stride, resounding from wall to wall. Medraut addresses the King, his hurried words muffled by my hidden sanctuary. In the antechamber, our breathing has become one — we wait. Moments later, the King, flanked by the soldiers and my brother, at last set off.
“You must go now,” I whisper, still fearing detection. “He will bring you no harm. You are his wife.”
“And you are his son,” she speaks as if no other could hear, “he will kill you.”
“I would lie beneath the dark soil of Camlann before he shares his bed with you again.” Taking her in my arms, I kiss her lips. Her bouquet fills my mind with remembrances of our beginning. A time before the King… before my father knew her beauty. I long for her to be mine. “You must go now before he returns.”
“What did Medraut tell him?” she asks, her face pressed against my chest. “Do they prepare for battle without you?”
“It matters not to him. My brother’s desire for the throne is no secret. He will entice the King to ride into battle, ignoring my father’s infirmities. We need you, my King, he will boast. But Medraut knows I will not allow such danger to fall upon my father. In my absence he plans the death of the King. I swear on my life, I will stop him.”
“You love your father,” she whispers. “and yet you would die to keep him from me?”
“I would die to keep any man from you, dear Guinevere. My father’s kingdom is in peril, but to see him die at the hands of my brother...”
“It shall never be.” She searches for my eyes, hidden by the darkness. “It is you who must go now. You must stop Medraut. Halt his evil plans. I will never love your father, but I cannot see his kingdom fall.” She stands, “He is old and nearing his natural death. I will wait for the day that you, my true love, sits upon England’s throne.” Placing her hand upon my cheek, “Go, find Lancelot. He will help you. You must kill Medraut.”
You can find this and other books by J Hirtle at https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B005RQ45S0
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