Guinevere (Book 1)

Chapter 3

In no time at all, we are ready for battle. For the last ten days, the commanders and generals of both Camelot's and our armies have been engrossed in meetings of strategy and battle plans. The was no doubt in the minds of either that the enemy should be met as soon as possible. Hopefully, we would catch them off guard, or at least in a position where they had not yet had the chance to increase their numbers. I have not been privy to these meetings; Father believed talk of battle may upset me. Being on the outside of these meetings, I have been left to my own devices in the relative silence of the Keep. A hush has fallen over our home like nothing I have ever experienced; everyone is preoccupied with thoughts of fear and uncertainty. It's amazing how the Keep, usually such a hive of activity, could be so eerily quiet. The atmosphere is that of an intake of breath, the silence before the fall of the executioner's axe.  

Everybody is anxious, and rightly so. The enemies numbers took us by surprise when we went to fight by ourselves. Even with Camelot's significant number added to our own, there is every chance we will be caught out again. Who knows how many more fighters the Saxons have bolstered their forces with since our men returned. This is not helped by the whisperings by the members of the court, who are planning for that very outcome. There is talk of last-ditch defence tactics and ultimately the evacuation of the city, should the walls be breached. I know that it is only prudent to plan for all eventualities, but it is not exactly helping moral in the Keep.All we can do is pray and hope that King Arthur can lead us to victory. From what I have been hearing from others around the Keep is that if anyone can get us through this, he can. I have seen very little of him but all say he remains very calm and collected. He has numerous backup plans in place for all conceivable scenarios, which is admirable. A king who is confident in battle but not blindly so is a wise King. Overconfidence can lead to disastrous results. It is not his first battle and his skills in strategy and balanced decision making are both the main reasons behind his past victories. Of course, he will be fighting alongside his men as well as coordinating this assault, and I am told, he is impressive in both regards.  

Today marks the eve of our two armies marching from Cameliard and into to battle. As difficult as it is, I try to conceal my growing nervousness about tomorrow. My face is a mask of smiles and courage, yet my hands are trembling as I walk through the Keep. My mind is in a constant loop of 'what ifs'; what if we are outnumbered again? What if all of our forces get slaughtered in the battle to come? What if Cameliard is overrun before we can evacuate? And it's not just our men at stake, it's Camelot's too. What happens if they are wiped out along with our army? What then becomes of Camelot? And we would have been the ones to have led them to the slaughter. These thoughts go around and around in my head and I don't know how to make them stop. Outside of the privacy of my chambers, I try my best to project the confidence of my Father and Arthur. They are both confident that our forces combined will defeat the enemy. I know I should feel as they do, but I just can't stop the nagging fear in the back of my mind. 

My fingers clench in frustration. They grip tightly onto the dress I am carrying back to my chambers. Soon after the arrival of our allies, I had an unusual impulse to have a gown made specifically for tomorrow's procession. The seamstress couldn't believe her eyes when she saw me; I don't think I've ever voluntarily gone to her before. The gown is a rich red with gold embellishments, which are the only intricate part of the design. Beneath this is a layer of white to create contrast with the overlaying laces and to add warmth. Simple, but elegant and regal. The colours of Camelot would show the unity between our two peoples and in such times, this would be a strong gesture of hope and faith in our allies. 

Then a man's voice from somewhere behind me makes me jump; "Excuse me, Princess? I think this may belong to you."I stop and turn to see one of the knights of Camelot, walking towards me holding out an open hand. As he approaches, I can see he is in possession of a small golden jewel, which I immediately recognise as being one from my hair.Having been only briefly introduced to some of the knights on their arrival, I have forgotten many of the names; "Thank you, Sir...? Please forgive me; I'm terrible with names."The knight bows; "Sir Lancelot du Lac, at your service, my Lady."As I look up from the bead in the palm of his hand, my heart begins to race now I see the man standing before me. Incredibly handsome, with chiselled features and eyes the colour of the sky on a clear summer's day. Those eyes of brilliant blue lock onto mine and I feel like I could fall into them, like diving into the sea.