Meagan: A Memoir of a Camelot Hand-Maiden

Chapter 7

The stranger's name, I learned the next day, was Percival, and he was, supposedly, distantly-related to Arthur, through Arthur's step-mother, who was Percival's aunt. Not truly a connection, but the Court loved a good story. Arthur's father was named Uther Pendragon, and he was both revered, and loathed, for his conquests of land, resources, and anything else that caught his eye. Like Arthur's mother, Igraine, for example. He took half of the island under him, in bloody wars that lasted until his death.

Arthur took the rest of it by pulling a sword out of a rock. Or so the story went.

I sat in a sunny day-room with Bess that morning, planning the feast that would celebrate Percival's knighting. Guinevere had given me the luxury of three whole days to plan and pull it off, and I didn't want to miss anything.

Usually, I didn't care how a party turned out as long as there were no complaints about the food or the staff. In fact, the worse a party was, the more fun it was to watch from a distance. This one, however, was going to be perfect. I insisted upon it.

A steady stream of maidens and noble-women crossed the room, all giggling and blushing, and snippets of conversations between them had me grinding my teeth. "...the tailor's. He'd washed and shaved and oh! Those eyes..." "...at the moon all night last night in his window looking so yearningly..." "...unspoken-for? He's related to the King. Oh, to marry a true noble..."

I sighed and stared at the retreating forms of a large group of giggling girls in irritation. Once the door shut behind them and we were alone, Bess put her hand on my arm.

"Don't be jealous, Meagan. He didn't stay three days outdoors waiting to hear from any of them."

"I'm not jealous," I turned toward her, my retort coming out more vehemently than I wanted, "The entire thing is most ridiculous."

"Then should I hold off on the caviar?" Bess asked, returning to our menu planning.

"No, keep it all," I sighed, "I'm sorry, Bess. I'm a bit peevish today."

Bess smiled behind her curtain of raven hair, but said nothing as the door opened again. I expected more fawning imbeciles, but Chloe, one of Madam Marie's seamstresses, bustled in and stopped in front of me.

"Madam Marie will see you now, Lady Attendant," she said, curtseying.

"Whatever for, Chloe?" I asked her, handing Bess my parchments.

"Your fitting, Lady Meagan," she bobbed again.

Bess tittered behind her hair.

"Something you want to tell me, Bess?" I asked her.

"By the Queen's instructions, Meagan," she giggled a bit, "You'll like it."

"I doubt it," I shook my head, "But trying to stop Guinevere is like trying to stop the tide. Are you all right with what we have?" I asked, pointing to her instructions.

"It will be done, Meagan," Bess tittered again, "Good luck."

Two hours later, having been measured by Madam Marie and poked with pins in every inch of skin, I was back putting my regular gown on in the changing room when I heard someone come into her shop.

"Good afternoon, Sir Knight. May I be of assistance?" Madame Marie asked.

"I," I heard a man hesitate, "I was wondering if you had the colors of a certain lady's gown for the knighting celebration?" The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place it.

"Of course," Madame Marie gushed, "One moment please, my Lord. Let me just finish with a fitting and I would be most happy to help you find the perfect thing to set you Lady's attire off. Why don't you wait in the lounge to your left?"