The Witch of Camelot

Fifty-Two...Nature or Perseverance

Fifty-Two….Nature or Perseverance 

Troilus rode on ahead, grinning with triumph after he had watched the understanding dawn upon my face.

            I glanced over at Arthur and felt my stomach twist. If Troilus was correct, I thought to myself, then the only feminine dream I had ever had was going to come true and soon. The thought scared me slightly, what do I know about being queen? I asked myself as we rode on.

Some hours later, after Arthur had been jolted awake by his stallion making a small jump over a log of his own accord, we stopped momentarily for a drink and a bite of bread. I felt no hunger however, passing my piece to Arthur who declared he was starving after his sleep.

            The day continued on in near silence, after all there is little that can be discussed so out in the open when you have a thousand secrets to hide. By the late afternoon however we had entered into the forest and although the soldiers had to be more alert we could at least speak a little more freely.

            ‘When we arrive I will show you everything,’ Arthur spoke excitedly; I saw Troilus smile smugly out of the corner of my eye and I felt awkwardness descend. The young prince carried on nonetheless, apparently unaware. ‘You’ll love it Nimue I promise you, the landscape and its freedom is your dream. The wildlife, the society, all will be to your liking of that I am certain.’

            One of the soldiers chuckled, ‘You’ll only be there a short while my Lord; do not fill the girls head with such pleasurable thoughts when the reality is to be had for so short a time.’ I narrowed my eyes at his terminology and Arthur saw my reaction.

            ‘You, Benivere isn’t it?’ Arthur asked, royal authority holding in his tone. The man nodded. ‘Nimue will be addressed with all courtesy; she is to be Lady Nimue Ambrosias until we reach my father’s house and as you know after that she is to be called Lady Gwenivere. You will do well to remember both of these facts for when we return to Camelot she and her uncle will form the centre of my advisory council and your job may very well depend on their good graces and my personal feelings of good will toward you. Am I understood?’

            ‘Yes Sire, apologises my lady.’ He replied sheepishly.

            ‘Arthur you didn’t need to embarrass him so.’ I muttered.

            ‘He was rude to you.’

            ‘We need all the allies we can get Arthur, I’m not worth it.’

            Arthur frowned, ‘correction Nimue no one is more worthwhile, you heard Merlin, our destinies are intertwined, and we will make Camelot good and great.’

            ‘Do not make enemies over me Arthur; it will help our cause in no way.’ I answered sternly. I could feel Troilus’ eyes watching us.

            ‘Nimue I want you to be respected, you deserve that; and more.’

            ‘Arthur I am the daughter of a farmhand, a poor, uneducated but well-connected farmhand. My mother was a nobody, I was born a nobody but I was gifted the sight and an intelligent uncle, do not deceive yourself in thinking that I am well-blooded, that men would fight for me on my birth-right, I must make them believe in me, trust me, they will follow me no other way.’

            ‘Nimue, they shall trust you and they shall follow you, you shall be the first lady they think of when asked for a description of the finest, truest, most loyal and intelligent and beautiful of women. They will name you as their protector and their prophetess mother, of this I am certain.’

            I laughed, trying to ignore the fact that he had called me beautiful. ‘Arthur how can you be certain, is not certainty my skill whilst you excel far better at reading and writing of prose and speaking with a certain dignity and authority? Can I at least retain my prowess in the sight?’

            He chuckled but quickly fixed me with a knowing look, ‘you have the true sight Lady Niume, but you know what I speak of will come to pass…’  

            ‘But only if I work on making them trust me!’ I exclaimed interrupting him. ‘They shall not think these things without my own hard work and perseverance, they will view me with scorn, and anger and rise against me if they are not encouraged to admire me in a humble way.’

            He sighed, silenced, he could not answer my logic, and he knew my words rung true.

            We rode on a little further in silence, until at last I had to break the awkward monotony. ‘Arthur I meant not to be harsh to you, but you know what I say is correct, they will not simply accept me and follow me as you say.’

            It was then that Troilus rode up beside us, ‘Nimue I understand what it is you say but Arthur is correct, you will inspire allegiance and trust with little effort but when times become hard, your perseverance will be needed. You are both right therefore, in your arguments despite the naturalness within you.’

            ‘Naturalness?’ I repeated in confusion.

            ‘You have a natural regal air Nimue,’ Troilus answered boldly; ‘you inspire confidence and trust with your words and with your actions.’

            I laughed, ‘Troilus most of the city folk fear me.’

            ‘They fear you for your powers that they don’t understand; that is all. As the Lady Gwenivere from the North they will only see the goodness and intelligence that resides within you.’

            I felt my cheeks warm and a little ounce of pride rise and fall within my chest.

            ‘I agree,’ Arthur chipped in, grinning at me. ‘My people will love you.’ He paused momentarily and then winking added, ‘and if they don’t I’ll have them thrown into the deepest darkest dungeon.’ I scowled at him in response, unsuccessfully attempting to hide my smile.