Guinevere (Book 1)

Chapter 6

I am dreaming of riding my horse across the plains and into the magical woodland I used to play in. My favourite place in the world. It is quiet, peaceful and I feel safe there. The wind rustles the leaves of the trees; they are whispering my name. I kick my steed into a gallop, following the whisper which gets louder encouraging me onwards, deeper into the woods. The trees get closer and thicker, making it hard for me to navigate with Ivor through.

"Guinevere....Guinevere..."

The voice is ahead of me still and I cannot yet see who or what is calling to me. But I must find out. I must.

"Guinevere!"

Deeper and darker into the woods I go. The voice so loud it's ringing in my ears; where are they?

"Guin!"

This shout wakes me from my dream with a start and I see Enid standing over me; "Guin, wake up. It is morning at last, but not a happy one." 

It takes me a moment to realise where I am; in the Great Hall, in an armchair. I rub my eyes, still heavy and full of sleep. My stomach lurches as I process what Enid has just said and I immediately look towards where Lancelot lies.

Seeing my panic-stricken face, Enid quickly eases my fears; "Oh goodness no, child; he lives. Although he does have a slight fever. I suspect there may be an infection in his wounds, but the surgeon is coming to take a look soon."

I relax a little; "What other news?"

"We lost seventeen more in the night, all with serious injuries. More have recovered enough to be moved the dining hall, though, which is good."

"Poor souls, may they find peace. I'm glad there are men recovering, though; let us hope this continues," I say, unfolding myself from the chair that has been my bed. Every limb aches and refuses to stretch out fully. 

As Enid continues to report on the night's activities, the surgeon arrives. He takes a swift look around the room, then finds who he is looking for.

I watch him walk over and take a look at Lancelot as I listen to Enid; "Another messenger arrived in the night; the Saxons have retreated at last and King Arthur is going to be marching back here sooner than expected."

My head snaps back to my friend as I hear those wonderful words.

Relief floods my whole being; "Oh, that is good news! Finally, there is an end to this bloodshed."

"Your Father came in while you slept, to see how things were going. He was going to tell you himself, but he did not want to wake you."

"I should have been awake..." I say, annoyed with myself.

"Nonsense; even Princesses need to sleep, dearest."

"I suppose..." I mumble but her words do little to , my irritation. 

Rising from the chair, I walk over to where the surgeon who is assessing Lancelot. I see little change in him, other than a light veil of perspiration is now covering his face and maybe a little flush of his cheeks.

"How is he?"

"Well, he has an infection in the wound in his chest and, as a result, he is starting to run a fever. He is a strong man, I dare say, but infections can be difficult to predict. It also depends on whether he has strength enough left to fight this. The next few days won't be pleasant for him; it's going to get worse before he gets better. Keep trying to talk to him and keep the wounds clean with fresh dressings morning and night. Let me know if anything changes in the meantime, but I shall assess his condition daily."