Spring Maiden (New Book)

The Colour Red

The castle has awoken from its slumber, and Guinevere could hear the hustle and bustle below in the courtyard. The scrapes of metal had started up once again, and she too could hear hooves upon cobble. She sent for her maidens and asked them to fetch her velvet ribbons and plenty of new cloth for her moon blood.

It was rather heavy this time and she had endured agonizing throbs from her womb in the night. When she was younger, she didn't mind it so much. This suffering, she told herself, was the price a woman paid to grow the next generation inside of her. When she became a queen, the aches and pains seemed an even smaller price to pay, for she would be carrying the next heir upon her hips!

Now it angered her that it appeared she would be carrying nothing at all, yet she must go on, bleeding and aching. An empty vessel. A litter void of passengers.

She swallowed as her maids arrived in her chambers, and glancing in the mirror she saw her eyes had reddened.

She forced herself to focus on the ribbons they paraded in front of her. There were the usual saffron and blue, and she spotted new ruby-red ones streaming out amongst them.

"Is this the dye from Londinium?" she asked reaching out and touching the satin threads.

"Yes, my Queen," replied Diana, the dark-haired child of Arthur's knight Geraint.

"It is rather fine," replied Guinevere. "Please use these ones."

Diana began to brush out her long blonde hair, and Guinevere admired it in the mirror. It was still as fair as the sun and had not yet whitened, praise be to God.

She took a deep breath and raised her eyes up to her reflection one more. Her beauty had not yet left her either. She still had the face of an angel, with her small fine nose, rosy cheeks, and pale complexion. Sparkly green doe eyes stared out over high, fine cheekbones.

Guinevere had inherited her looks from her welsh grandmother and namesake Guinevere. Her grandmother had used the welsh spelling for her name 'Gwenwyfar' and had been the loveliest lady in all those lands.

Guinevere had never met her but her father had told her all she need do is glance in her hand-mirror to see her. She smiled, she had been blessed in at least this way. None of her other cousins had grandmother's face.... asides from one, apparently.

Guinevere sighed, as Diana braided her hair. She and Arthur had not been social of late, and she knew she must call for Elayne of Astalot. Her cousin had now come of age and she had been told she was near short of divinity. Guinevere had been delaying but decided she would like to meet her at least. She had not seen her since she was a smaller maiden, on the brink of womanhood.

Elayne may have been small but Guinevere remembered how she had rung out her ears with tribespeople talk. Guinevere rolled her eyes, as she remembered the girl spout out devilish nonsense about the Beltane fires. She boasted about what 'her people' did at such events, not that Guinevere needed educating. She was fully aware of the hurricane of sin that swept through the country on the night of Beltane. The mother of Elayne, Nimue had been from Avalon itself – the great pagan isle. It was a political marriage to bind together the Tribes and the Romans and it had irritated her that their child had been poisoned with that witchery. Now the girl was no longer a girl, perhaps her brain had developed somewhat too. After all, since then, Guinevere had convinced Arthur to cast aside banner of the Pendragon and ride to battle under the cross.

It had angered the tribes, but oh, what glorious victory they had delivered under Christ's name. They had slain every Saxon chief in the country! Elayne would surely see this now. Yes, she would invite her to Camelot, perhaps even next week. She could use some fresh company, at least for the time being.

"There!" exclaimed Diana, stepping back from her.

Guinevere looked ahead at her reflection, now feeling much better than earlier. Her hair was arranged in two stunning twisted braids, decorated with her new red ribbons and daisies dyed scarlet.

Diana had done her chore very well and she felt a smile spread across her face. It felt strange and alien, she would probably incur an ache of some sort in her lower face, so rare did she use this part!

But oh, she was feeling more and more joyful. Her great love would return to Camelot tonight, and although they had not laid together for quite some time, Guinevere hoped to change that. For her afternoon musing had taught her that she was finally adjusting to the idea of leaving these lands and all her woes behind her.