Guinevere (Book 1)

Chapter 7

It is the day of the victory feast, and the activity around the Keep is unlike anything I have ever seen before. Over the last ten days, it had been a communal game of dodging the staff and courtiers in corridors and trying not to get in their way. Banners and flags were being put up all over the place, including in the streets, on homes and in gardens. Cook had been frantically trying to organise the kitchen staff and get the preparation done for the feast but was rapidly losing his temper at everything and everyone. Stewards had been hard at work cleaning the Great Hall to within an inch of its life; polishing the floors, dusting the windows and making sure there was not a speck of dust to be seen. Then yesterday the furniture was set up in the Great Hall for the hundreds of people who would be in attendance, which is where I am on my way to meet with Father. In all of the chaos over the last couple of weeks, we hadn't had much opportunity to speak at any great length.

As I walk through the imposing doors of the hall, I see him standing there in the middle of the room, looking around in awe. I too look around and quickly understand why; I cannot remember when I last saw this room so lavishly decorated. Elaborately embroidered tablecloths had been draped over the tables, centrepieces were in place in the form of wildflower wreaths and there were candles just about everywhere. Banners had been hung from the oak beams, in both Camelot's red and purple of our own house, to show our new friendship and a shared victory. Our thrones were decorated to match, and the grand table had been placed in front of them so that my father, Arthur and I could sit and watch the room. The musicians were also present, setting up their music and instruments at the back of the hall, ready to rehearse. 

Father turns and beams at me; "My sweet child! Doesn't this place look incredible? It hasn't been so bustling and decorated since your mother and I were married all those years ago. Nay, the day you were born! We had a feast so great... If only you were old enough to remember it."

I cannot help but smile back at his joy-filled face; "It certainly does scrub up well, that much is true! I'm glad to see you so happy, Father. A lot of work has gone into making it look like this."

"And all will be rewarded! Tonight, all who wish to may go to their families in the city and celebrate with them. We owe them so much from the last few months. That goes for Enid too."

"I will let her know when I see her, she will be thrilled to be with her family," I say happily.

"Excellent!" Taking my hands in his, he continues; "I am so proud of you, Guinevere, for all that you have done the last few weeks. You have gone above and beyond in helping out with our wounded. I will admit, I wasn't pleased to hear that you had volunteered, as it is not the job of a Princess. But I should know by now that when your mind is fixed on something, nothing will stop you. It warms my heart to know I have raised my daughter to be a humanitarian first and a Princess second."

I swell with pride at his words; "Thank you, Father. I'm sure the courtiers would not agree, however. Heaven forbid I dress a man's wounds!"

"They may say what they like. Although, if Enid had not had been there, I would have certainly thought twice about letting you in a room full of men."

I roll my eyes; "Enid kept a close eye on me, I assure you. Besides, the circumstances were hardly ordinary; with the numbers that came to us needing attention, I was happy to help. It was for us that they came to us in the first place, so it was the least I could do. Proper or not."

"That's the spirit of your mother, mark my words. She was never one for propriety either, which is one of the reasons I married her."

Tears prick my eyes and all I can do is put my arms around him in a tight embrace. I wish I had known her.