THE WARRIOR QUEEN (The Guinevere Trilogy Book 1) (6 page)

“Mass is... mass is how we pray to God. My God must be your god now.” He sighed silently. I could not hear it, but I could see his shoulders fall. “I’m sorry, Guinevere.”

I gave a little nod and slipped out from between the curtains, stepping across the room and into his embrace as though it were a habit of many years. That was the way of it. The foreign queen must take the gods of the land.

“It seems to be that you would be better off taking my gods, though, since your god has already cursed you,” I pointed out, gently, taking his face in my hands.

Arthur shook his head, kissing my forehead, thoughtfully.

“God isn’t like that – God gave me this Kingdom. God doesn’t like or dislike people, he just judges each thing that they do, on its own.”

Sounds like a funny kind of god.

Chapter Six

Servants came in with bowls of hot water and we washed and dressed in the fresh clothing they brought. Arthur had his splendid red surcoat, with the dragon of his father’s house spread in gold across it, and he put on his sword and his crown to go down to the chapel. I wondered if he wanted to look every bit the king, or if he just always wanted to have that sword at his side. I was dressed in red and gold, too, and my hair tied up in a golden net. Arthur placed my crown tenderly on my head and kissed me lightly.

“You look as if you’ve been queen all your life.”

“Queen’s blood,” I told him, with a smile.

In the chapel, Arthur was solemn again. The youthful play he had shown with Kay evaporated in the sight of his Hanged God, whose name, he told me, was Christ. As he grew older he would no longer be by turns mischievous and solemn. He would grow up, out of the boyish ways as the cares of the realm weighed upon him. I could see that already. And his god. Arthur bent his head in prayer so diligently to the god who had already doomed him. Why not pray to another?

I thought of my own gods as I knelt beside him, my head down. At least people could not see that I did not know the words, or the songs. Then we went up to receive the libation and bread as we had when we wed. None of it made sense to me, and I felt disorientated and alone again suddenly. Out of the safe privacy of Arthur’s bedroom I felt a foreigner, lost again, and I longed painfully for home. I didn’t remember half of the names I had learned last night, and Arthur was a different man when we were not alone. Once again I felt unsure if this place with its strange rituals could be my home, but then I remembered the Lady Igraine leaning close to me and whispering
It will get easier
. I supposed it would. I saw her, in the chapel, and we exchanged a friendly smile. I could not bear, somehow, to meet eyes with her daughter Morgawse sitting beside her.

After the mass, Arthur took me by the hand and we led all the assembled lords and ladies out of the chapel. Standing at the entrance was the witch Merlin, and I felt his black eyes pierce me to the bone, strip me down to my muscles and sinews and a shiver ran through me. I did not trust the man.

As we processed out into the light, Merlin took Arthur aside and they began to speak in hushed tones, leaning together in the shadow of the chapel. Merlin liked to stand close to that building, but I had already noticed that he would never go in.

I turned as I felt a light touch on my arm. Beside me stood Sir Ector, smiling, squinting against the morning sun.

“My lovely queen.” He bowed a little, then placed a hand in mine and fixed me with an earnest look. He seemed nervous, drawing me aside to ask me quietly, “My lady... I trust, I trust my Lord Arthur was kind?”

I knew what he meant. I nodded.

“He was kind, sir.”

Ector sighed with visible relief. “He is a kind boy – ah, a kind king, a kind man, a good man – I was sure he would only be so. Just, young men can be foolish, when passions… and a lady as beautiful as yourself –”

I nodded again, and he smiled. I could see he had worried over it. I was glad he had asked. I was glad that this warm, avuncular man who had nothing to do with me, to whom I was nothing but a foreign princess, cared. I was pleased, also, that Arthur had been raised by such a man. Already I was finding it hard to hold on to the hard stone of hate that I had carried with me from Carhais. It was being worn smooth, turning to sand, running through my fingers. Ector pressed a fatherly kiss against my cheek and walked over to join Arthur and Merlin. If Ector was not afraid of the witch, perhaps I need not be either.

From the church behind me came Arthur’s sister Morgan. Her face was blue as Merlin’s with woad, but she could pass into that place. She was wearing the same shining dark gown of deep blue and sapphire and as the light caught it, she looked half-dragon. But she was not. Only Arthur fought under the banners of the dragon. Her father had been another, some duke of an outlying kingdom. She gave me a cold look as she passed by, but said nothing, and I was not sure if the cold look was
at
me, or past me.

Watching her go, I did not notice that Arthur had come back to my side. He slid an arm around my waist and drew me to his side. “I’m sorry I left you on your own.” He spoke, soft and deep, into my ear, letting his lips brush against it. I felt the hot, pleasant prickle of the intimacy of it at the base of my spine. But the words that came next chilled it from me. “Merlin has had news from Rome. The Emperor is not pleased there is a King of all Britain.”

I felt a sinking in the pit of my stomach.
Not already
.

“There might be more war,” I said, softly.

“There might. But not any day soon. And now is not the time to think about it.”

He gave me an easy smile, but he was wary. I was pleased he was wary. It meant that he was a good king, thinking of his people and his borders. Perhaps he did care about those scattered little villages I had seen on the way. As time went on, I felt more sure he might.

Kay sauntered past and flashed us both a knowing smile. Arthur smiled back warmly, and chuckled under his breath. Reminded of the morning in public, I blushed dark red. I was angry with myself for blushing again, and angry for Kay for making me blush. I did not want to appear embarrassed or weak. Arthur had not noticed, but when I caught Kay’s eye, I saw he had. He looked a little sorry, but also a little pleased, and slunk off into the shadows with a kind little wink. He was truly a creature of my blood. I had known many boys and men like that growing up. Wicked as sprites, but kind.

Gawain came up then. He bowed to me, brusquely.

“My lady queen.” Then to Arthur, “My Lord Arthur.”

Arthur smiled at him broadly. I found it strange that Arthur had as much of a big, open smile for the gruff Gawain as he had for the charming Kay. Before Gawain could speak what he meant to, a hunting-horn was blown and we were called to feast again.

“Another feast?” I asked.

“But surely, my lady, you are hungry?” Arthur whispered to me with that wicked, boyish smile. I could not suppress a smile in return.

This time I could taste the food, and I had an appetite for it. There was grilled fish, cooked with mushrooms and onions, a huge roasted boar, potatoes roasted in goose fat, plump game birds, little meat pies, plates piled high with every kind of vegetable, and big, hot sweet pies filled with apples and pears, which were the first thing I knew to ever make Gawain smile. Arthur laughed indulgently as Gawain cheered their arrival. I sat at the Round Table that I had lain on, days before, and wished for Arthur’s death, beside Arthur who was now my king and surrounded by his knights. At my side sat the Lady Igraine, but everyone else was a knight at that table, apart from Merlin, who sat on Arthur’s other side. I laid my palm flat on the cool wood of the table. I was not yet ready to un-wish my wish, but I was no longer glad I had made it. But the wine was sweet and rich, and soon I had forgotten about it. Arthur and I shared honey-glazed meats and sweet vegetables from one plate, and big chunks of fresh bread, still warm and soft. I did not think I had ever felt so hungry; nor had food tasted so good.

When at last the harpist and the lutist slumped in their seats with sleep and the stars were full out in the clear night, and almost everything was eaten, Arthur stood and called an end to the feast. He took me by the hand and led me away, away from the others, the knights with whom I had to practice little courtesies, anxious not be accidentally offending, and talking sweet but empty pleasantries with the gentle Lady Igraine, and out from the cold beady stare of Merlin. I realised as we left that I was yearning to be alone with him once more.

Arthur did not lead me up to his room, but back to the one where I had stayed on my first night.

“Why do we not go to your chamber?” I asked, as we stood in the doorway. My parents, my whole life, had slept in the same bed at the centre of the castle.

“These are your chambers, my lady. This whole tower is yours. The queen of all of Britain must have her own rooms.” He put his hands gently against my hips where he stood behind me, and drew me back against him, pressing his lips lightly against my ear. I could feel myself dizzying with it already. “Besides,” he whispered, “I will not leave you lonely.”

He stepped into the room, and I moved with him. I heard him shut the door softly behind us, his hands already in my hair, unwinding the plait of it. I felt it fall loose around my shoulders, and his fingers brush down my cheek, across my jaw, down across the flush already rising at my neck, down, lightly, across the soft skin that showed above the neck of my dress. I leaned back against him, unable to suppress a sigh, a sigh of desire for something I was not yet consciously sure that I was longing for. New, still, but all the more wanted because of it. I had not expected myself to grow used to being a married woman so fast. Nor had I thought that I would want my husband so powerfully so soon.

I turned my face back, over my shoulder, towards his, and I felt his other hand brush against my cheek as our mouths met in a kiss, deep and passionate. We were strangers still, really, and yet my body knew what it wanted already; the touch it had known the night before, and that morning, once again.

“All day, all I have thought about is being alone with you again,” Arthur murmured, his fingers slowly drawing apart the lacing at the back of the overdress. Too slow; I could feel the delicious impatience of my body, but I did not give in to it. Not yet. He kissed me again, and I could taste the sweetness of the wine, which this time I had drunk in a tentative happiness, on both our lips. Arthur pulled the overdress down over my shoulders, and I shrugged out of it, letting it fall to the ground and gently kicking it aside. I heard Arthur laugh, low and pleased, and suddenly he pulled me hard back against him, his huge hand spread against my stomach, his lips at my neck. I could feel his body pressed tight against mine, his other hand winding into my hair, pulling gently, and I could not pretend that I did not like it, did not already want his touch.

With the hand in my hair, he turned my face back to his, kissing me, but teasing this time, and his other hand brushed light across my breasts over the thin underdress. I held back, just for the moment, from pressing into his hands for more, but I felt the skin beneath tingling at his touch, longing for the feel of his bare skin against my own again. His fingers went to the lacing again, but he paused there. I could feel my heart fluttering against his hand, the heat of my skin under his touch.

“Tell me you want me,” he murmured, kissing me once more, gently pulling on my lip with his teeth, leaning away as I leaned towards him, trying to kiss him deeper. So, that was what he wanted. After my resistance last night, he wanted to feel that he had won me round. I was not sure that he had not, but I was not going to yield a position of even the slightest power if I did not have to.

I said nothing, but gave him a small smile. He smiled back, pleased but not yet entirely satisfied. One hand still tight in my hair, he ran his other hand down my throat, lightly, his fingertips brushing across my skin, tantalising, and I could feel the flush of desire hot all through me as his fingers reached the ties of the underdress again, and he pulled it open a little more, and slid his hand inside. I could not hide my quick breaths of excitement, nor stop the sigh escaping my lips as I felt his thumb brush soft across my nipple, but he stopped there, as I was lost to it, lost to his touch already, gasping for more, and I felt his lips brush my ear again, as he whispered.

“
Tell me
.”

I said nothing still, but I reached behind me and pressed my hand against his breeches where I knew he would be hard already. I heard him groan. I supposed that was enough of an answer for him, for he turned me around in his arms to face him and kissed me with such passionate force that I stumbled back with him, a few steps into the room. A few steps closer to the bed that we were both sure, now, was waiting for us. My fingers fumbled clumsily against the buttons of his surcoat, not yet used to undressing a man, but soon it was done, and when I pulled it open, he shrugged it off, and threw it aside. I lay my hands on his chest, and through his shirt I could feel the heat of his skin beneath. I slid my hands up under it, letting them run over his chest, through the light coarse hair, across the muscle, as I pushed it over his head, and he threw it aside as well, walking us both towards the bed. I heard him kick off his boots. I had slipped out of my shoes already, and through the lovely haze of it all, I could not remember when. He turned me around again in his arms, pulling me back tight against him, and I felt his hands run over me once more, over the underdress, as I turned over my shoulder to kiss him once more. Then, he grasped the front of it in his fist, and pulled, hard. The thin underdress ripped to the ground under the power of his hand, and I felt once more my own smallness and vulnerability in comparison to him. But tonight it was exciting, and pleasantly dangerous, and I was suddenly naked in his hands, feeling them run over me, appreciative and hungry. It was good to be wanted. I had never dreamed I might enjoy it, and yet here I was already losing myself in the pleasure of it. Stubborn all my life, I had never before experienced the pleasure of surrender.

Arthur threw me down lightly on the bed and I heard him pull off his breeches and throw them aside as he climbed on behind me, grasping me hard by the hips and pulling me against him. I cried out as I felt him go inside me; half-surprise, half-relief, as I felt the warmth of it spread through me, the welcome pleasure of closeness with Arthur that was familiar already. I felt his hand run down my back, tangle in my hair, and I sighed with it, feeling the warm sweet light of our being together begin to gather in the centre of me, closing my eyes, stretching out with it, like a cat, letting my hands clutch in the frustrated, gathering enjoyment of it all at the rich silk covers around me. I heard Arthur groan low again in excitement, and though I could not see him, I felt the touch of his eyes on me, and then his other hand run soft and light up the inside of my thigh and brush light again at the place he had found the night before, and I felt the brightness of it rush through me, and through both of us, and I sighed hard with it, feeling it wash through me, hot and bright and wonderful.