But her tricks could sneak beneath the notice of Camelot. His power never could.
Brangien placed pillows behind Guinevere’s back, helping her sit up. She was fussing too much, but Guinevere let her. As she ate the plate of food Brangien had waiting, she asked what she had missed.
“Ever so much gossip. But it is all about you, so I suppose you did not miss anything anyone would have said to you.”
Guinevere dropped her bread. “Gossip? What?” Had someone seen her alone with Mordred? She knew she should not have agreed to that!
“All about your purity. They are dreadfully impressed that you are so virtuous and delicate, one night entertaining the king in his bedroom requires two days of rest.” Brangien lifted an eyebrow wryly.
“They are saying that? Arthur’s bed is really the topic of so much discussion?”
“Everyone is very invested in the girl who finally found a place there. Many have tried over the years. This is pure vicious gossip, mind you, but I have heard from more than one source that Dindrane, Sir Percival’s sister, once paid a servant to sneak her into Arthur’s bedroom, where she waited…alone…in his bed…with only the clothes she was born in.”
“No!”
“Yes!” Brangien’s eyes twinkled in delight. “But our king is as virtuous as he is strong and kind. He asks nothing of others that he would not do himself. Thus, to wed a virgin, he himself was a virgin.”
Guinevere knew very little of men. Merlin hardly counted as one. She did not know what to make of this information about Arthur. She changed the subject. “I might love Dindrane now. Is that odd? How brave she must be, how bold to attempt such a direct attack!”
Brangien laughed, handing Guinevere another goblet of watered wine. “You are a surprising lady. But she has nothing and therefore nothing to lose. Be careful what you say or do around her. We will avoid her whenever possible.”
“Thank you, Brangien. I would be lost without you.”
Brangien waved away the compliment, but Guinevere could tell she was pleased. She let Brangien brush and braid her hair, chattering and filling her in on everything else. Arthur had been to visit her twice to check on her state. But he had left that morning on business.
When Guinevere used the chamber pot in private, though, she had a terrible shock. The magic must have broken her. She cried out in fear, needing Merlin. Needing anyone.
Brangien rushed in. “What is it?”
“Blood,” Guinevere said, staring at her underclothes in horror.
“Well, that is no concern. The timing was not right to conceive anyhow.”
“What do you mean?” Guinevere could not help the tears streaming down her face. She had broken herself. She would bleed to death from the inside. No one would be left to protect Arthur. No one would know where the real Guinevere was buried. And she herself would die unknown, unloved, unnamed.
Brangien’s face shifted to shock and then pity. “Oh, my lady. You have not— This is your first time?”
“My first time what? I do not understand. I am dying, Brangien. Please tell Arthur—”
Brangien led her to the bed. She picked up the blood-stained underclothes and tucked them away with the wash, then busied herself getting new ones, along with several narrow lengths of cloth. “Your convent has a lot to answer for,” she grumbled. “Imagine, sending a girl to be married who has not yet started her courses, and who does not understand her own body.” Brangien layered the cloth into the underclothes, then slipped them both up Guinevere’s trembling legs. “This is normal. Healthy, even. It will happen every month until Arthur’s seed takes root in your womb.”
“What?”
Brangien laughed. “It is not quite fair, is it? But it is the way of women’s bodies. You may have some pain, exhaustion, even. That could explain the last couple of days. But it will pass in under a week, and then you will be clear as a summer morning. Until the next moon.”
“This happens to you, too?”
“Yes.”
“It is awful. Who ever designed this system?”
Brangien laughed. “I believe that would be God, so you are welcome to take it up with him. In the meantime, I will heat some towels for you to hold against your abdomen. It feels nice.”
Guinevere was even more willing to let Brangien take care of her. She felt fragile and new, unnerved at this strange development in her own body. And betrayed that she had not known it was coming.
“Can you—” Her voice cracked. She knew that men and women had babies. All things did. But she had never considered the specifics of how, as it related to humans. And Merlin had certainly never told her about it. That was one lesson she would not have forgotten. “Can you explain the part about the seeds?” she asked.
Brangien tucked the warm towels around her. “I am going to give those nuns an earful if we ever see them again.”
* * *
A couple of hours later, Guinevere felt much better physically, if a bit unsteady emotionally. “I would like to speak to Arthur. When will he return?”
“No one told me.”
“Hmm.” Guinevere wished she knew, but doubted anyone would tell her. She was not important in the workings of the castle or the business of knights. “Oh!” Guinevere remembered another task to be done, now that the castle was secure. “When will there be another aspirant tournament?”
“They increased them! Two a week. I think the king is trying to get the patchwork knight through. One is happening right now.”
“No!” Guinevere would lose her chance to try and steal an item of the patchwork knight’s.
“You are in no state to go to the arena, anyhow. You need to rest.”
“I have been resting for two days.”
“And you will rest until I decide you are well enough to stop.”
Guinevere did not want to wait until the next week to spy out the patchwork knight. And if she could not get something of his, she had another idea.
“Actually, I am quite tired. I should sleep more. Would you please see to it that I am not disturbed until the morning? I think one night of deep sleep will set me right.”
Brangien nodded. She took away Guinevere’s empty plate and refilled the goblet, which she left on a table next to the bed. Then, after leaving more cloth should Guinevere need it, she slipped into Guinevere’s sitting room.
Guinevere stood on shaky legs. She padded her underclothes, her feelings as unsteady as her body, which had become a stranger. She pulled out Brangien’s dress and cloak, once against tugging a thread and knotting confusion into it. She would have to go slowly, which meant she needed to leave now to reach her destination in time.