Arthur

Chapter 2

            Camelot lays sprawled at the bottom of the hill. Grey stonewalls encircled the massive city, where smoke clouds rose from early morning fires and small huts seemed to huddle as closely as possible. The city is in the shadows of the castle that rules over it. Towers and massive stone turrets are surrounded by what looks like greenery on one side, and patches of deep brown and stark buildings on the other. The castle itself is guarded by it’s own, much smaller, wall. 

            My nerves seem to vanish as I stare at the city, and I feel calmer than I’ve felt since I accepted the marriage. “Wow,” I mumble, caught up in the sight. 

            The walled city is surrounded on all sides by rolling green hills and thick forestry. Just staring at it, still several leagues away, I can almost smell the warm breads being sold in the market place. I breathe deeply, disappointed when all I inhale is my own unfortunate odour.  

            Beside me, Gareth is practically beaming. “That’s Camelot?” I have to be sure. Could it really be so beautiful? 

            “It is. That’s home.” Even Gareth sounds a little breathless. 

            We’re standing at the top of the largest hill in the region; one that Gareth had claimed was worth the climb. A claim I hadn’t quite believed, until he led me here, that is.

             “How did you find this place?”

             I can’t make out the road or our travelling party from where we stand, but Gareth simply shrugs. “I was sent to gather firewood once, a night we had been particularly late leaving Camelot. We only made it a few hours until we had to stop. I found this place then.” He turns to me, “But we should probably get back, they’ll have already fixed the horseshoe and eaten by now.” 

            He turns and, with one last reluctant look at Camelot, I follow him silently back to camp. Will the city be just as beautiful inside as it is from above? 

            Gareth is right: when we finally make it back to where the band of knights had stopped, for a rest and to fix the hoof of particularly anxious horse, we were greeted by Lancelot’s stormy visage. 

            Just looking at him makes my stomach clench painfully and my heart ache, just a little, at my deception. I may abhor him, but I can’t help but feel responsible for his pain. Don’t buy it Gwen, I try to remind myself, you know him. You know he can’t stand you. Don’t forget that. 

            I straighten my back a bit, trying to believe what I’m thinking. He should be relieved I’m dead… shouldn’t he? 

            “Where were you?” Lancelot barks out. 

            Gareth holds his hands behind his back, wringing them together anxiously where the advisor can’t see. “I was showing Gawain the view of Camelot, Sir. We must have forgotten the time.” 

            Lancelot narrows his eyes and looks back at me. “Don’t let it happen again.” He turns around and storms over to his horse, hopping on it gracefully and staring ahead impatiently. 

            I bite my cheek, a nervous habit, and scurry after Gareth to my horse. For the first time I manage to climb on in one go. The nasty gelding, however, clearly is not so impressed. He snorts and throws his head back, as if to say, you got on all by yourself? Give the human a prize. 

            When we take off down the road again, I’m sure to give my horse a particularly hard jab to the side. 

            We ride for hours, Lancelot at the head of the group while I stay at the rear. Gareth is just a few horses up from me, laughing with Geoffrey and Simon. They’re joking, occasionally riding close enough to give each other a light shove before pulling away. It reminds me of home, of Cedric and Peter and Thomas.