Guinevere (Book 1)

Chapter 4

The morning came far too quickly. No sooner as I had laid my head down to sleep, the sun began to rise. I slept little during the night; nightmares of a horrific battle, of Lancelot injured and dying on the field and of the destruction of Cameliard haunted my dreams. The blood and the screams all seemed so real. But I am here in my room, awake and safe - it was just a bad dream. But the images of Lancelot struggling and being cut down remain behind my eyes even after the rest fades. I feel sick at the recurring images that won't disappear despite my eyes being open. Sitting up in my bed I rub my face, knowing my mind should be on all of the men going out to fight for us, willing to sacrifice their lives for our safety. But all I can think about is Lancelot.

Shaking my head to try and stop the whirring thoughts and echoed screams, I turn my focus to what I need to do this morning. I get out of bed and walk over to my wardrobe, pulling out my new red gown. I hold it out in front of me running my fingers down the stole, mesmerised by the intense red colour. The red of Camelot. And the colour of blood...

Just as my thoughts start to wander back to that darker place, Enid knocks and enters my room, "Good morning, Guin. Are you ready to get dressed?" "As ready as one can be, I suppose." Enid inspects the gown for the first time, "Well that red is certainly beautiful, almost matching the cloaks of Camelot. And the style, so elegant but without any fussiness. This is perfect." "The style was more the seamstress's design than mine. I wanted to show the strength of our unity with Camelot and our courage in the face of what is to come." "Well, it certainly succeeds in all of that, Guin. Good for you, my dear." Enid admires the gown for a few moments before getting to work.

She lays the red layer of the gown on the bed while I retrieve the white underdress. Stripping from my nightgown, I wiggle into my undergarments and then proceed to pull the white layer over my head. Smoothing it over my body, Enid helps fasten this around my waist. She then brings over the red layer, laces loosened so I can step into it. Once I'm in, I pull the sleeves over each arm and Enid takes over, tying the laces at the back of the bodice. Then the intricate sleeves are laced from elbow to wrist and a golden stole is tied around my waist. A dark red cloak is found to go over my shoulders; it would be cold during the procession with winter having almost arrived.

Lastly, Enid puts a few braids in my hair entwining white wood anemones in them, the flower of Cameliard. A thin golden circlet is placed atop my head, representing my title and rank. Such things are a show of strength in such events. With the weight of this procession, of our armies going to war I have no complaint about the formality. Enid finishes securing the last braid and steps back nodding in approval. I take one last deep breath in the sanctuary of my chambers to compose myself. I am ready.

Striding through the Keep my hands shake more with every step I take as I make my way to the main entry doors. Just as they were yesterday after I'd left Lancelot in the armoury. I walk faster to try and shove down the anxious thoughts. I must be strong now, and I must be confident. I must also have faith in this campaign against the Saxons, have faith in our men and those of Camelot. Balling my trembling hands into fists, I put our people at the forefront of my mind and keep walking. No one can see even the smallest sign of doubt or fear, for if they do it could lead to panic. Our people look to the King and the Princess for solace and strength in such uncertain times. And no matter how graphic and real last night's nightmare was, how much my hands shake I will be what our people need me to be.

Reaching the open doors I meet Father, and together we walk out onto the flat stone plateau above the city. The air is clear and the skies blue, but it is cold. I can immediately feel my cheeks begin to cool and I can see my breath on the breeze. At the bottom of the steps, the army procession has taken shape, much the same as when Camelot first arrived, but rather than facing towards the Keep, they are facing away from it. And there are many more men with our combined forces. And this time, instead of just watching from this viewpoint, Father and I will ride alongside Arthur at the head of the procession as far as the city gates. Neither of us can fight alongside them on the battlefield, so instead, we decided this would be a gesture of our willingness at least. Our citizens have amassed and lined the route through the city once more, but this time excitement is replaced with near silence.