Guinevere (Book 1)

Chapter 19

Each day followed the same routine. An early breakfast, then riding with a couple of stops during the day to water the horses and feed ourselves. A scout would be sent on ahead early on in the day and report back by mid-afternoon. Then an hour before nightfall, we would make camp again, dinner would be had then we retire for the night. For the most part, I had been enjoying the journey; being outdoors, dining under the stars around a campfire and exploring unfamiliar parts of the countryside. At least that was until on the third day when we all awoke to rain. It came in showers at first, then as the day progressed it turned torrential. Grass became mud and fields became swamps, making it increasingly difficult to push forward. 

The rain continued all through the fourth day by which point everyone in the group, myself included, had become completely fed up. Progress slowed to a crawl as the horses struggled to trudge through the bog-like terrain and we had to stop more often to let them rest. But there was little we could do about the weather; we had to keep going.

On the fifth day, we finally have the good fortune to arrive at an ancient looking forest. Arthur says that this forest signifies the last obstacle before entering the kingdom of Camelot. This means we should arrive in the city on the seventh day. We are more relieved that the forest is one so dense, that it provides almost complete shelter from the driving rain. In contrast to the woodland we had previously travelled through, the trees in this forest are huge. Wide, gnarled trunks tower upwards splitting into long, thick limbs high above the forest floor, supporting an impressive canopy. It's only mid-afternoon when Arthur calls a halt and instructs us to make camp. He wants everybody, including the horses, dry and well-rested so that tomorrow we can make up some of the time spent wading through the mud.

As soon as my tent is erected, I dart in and get out of my wet clothing. I shiver with cold as I peel the freezing, wet layers of fabric from my skin, but feeling warmer with every layer lost. Once I'm naked I towel myself down making sure that every inch of me is dry. I also wring out my long hair which is sodden. I cannot get it completely dry, but it would be in no time once I was sat near the campfire. Rummaging around in my pack, I find warm undergarments, my plain gown and my cloak. I put them all on, pull on my shoes and head out into the camp. Finding a place as close to the fire as possible, I close my eyes and bask in the heat of the flames. Soon I am joined by Father and Arthur who do the very same. And so we sit, silent, warming ourselves from skin to bone.

After dinner, the sun now low in the sky, the usual warm atmosphere is suddenly shattered by a yell from one of the guards at the perimeter of the camp; "To arms! Bandits approaching! To arms!"

All the men immediately jump to their feet and fetch their weapons, then form a defensive position around us. Arthur whistles over his generals and has a quick exchange with them. Meanwhile fear rises within me hearing the yells and the clanging of swords in the distance. As Arthur finishes speaking to the small group he moves to my side and the bandits emerge from the trees at all sides. My stomach turns as I see that all of them are wielding swords, axes, knives and bows.

We are surrounded.

Just as a sense of hopelessness descends upon me, I feel something being pressed into my hand. Looking down I can see it's a large dagger.

Before I can say a word, Arthur whispers into my ear; "Try and keep it out of sight...I hope that you won't need to use this, but I'd rather you have some sort of defence. How well can you run?"