A Week with a Prince

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕿𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖞-𝕾𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓

A pale crescent of moon glimmered faintly in the dark sky as Ginny and Morag led their horses away from the waters of the Lake, following a sandy lane leading towards the bright walls of the monastery illuminated by the moving light of two torches burning near the entrance.

On reaching the massive wooden door, Ginny pulled on a rope Morag pointed out to her, making a bell ring somewhere beyond those thick, impenetrable walls, hoping that it wasn't too late to disturb the nuns.

Soon, a curious, ageless face rimmed by a black wimple appeared in a small window that opened in the door, followed by a voice enquiring who they were.

Ginny took her hat off, releasing her long hair, when she remembered that they were still dressed as men.

"I'm Guinevere, the niece of the Countess of Warwick, and I bring a letter for the Abbess," she said.

The nun's face was replaced by the wood closing the window once again, and it took a good while before the door was finally opened to the two travellers. The same nun was back, inviting them inside, accompanied by two others who took the girls' horses to the stables, while Ginny and Morag were led through a maze of torch-lit corridors to the Abbess' cell.

"Lady Guinevere?" the Abbess asked when they entered, her eyes flitting between the two girls.

"Yes, that's me," Ginny said, curtsying to the woman. She could be her aunt's age, the princess thought, but it was difficult to guess-- dressed head to toe in the black robes, standing in the middle of an ill-lit cell, the Abbess looked ageless just like the other nuns. "I have a letter for you," she said, gathering her rambling thoughts, pulling the folded piece of parchment from her pocket, and passing it to the woman standing in front of them.

The Abbess carried it to a desk where several candles burned in a candelabra, and read it quickly, then looked at the girls again, smiling. "Welcome, my princess. Be our guest for as long as you need. I agree with your aunt. It seems that this convent is the safest place for you now. Follow sister Mary, she will show you and your friend your cell, it's late and you must be tired after the journey. Let us talk in the morning."

"Thank you." Ginny smiled at the kind woman, then she and Morag followed sister Mary out of her cell, into a long and gloomy corridor.

Ginny noticed how the nun's eyes burned with questions about the world beyond the convent's walls, which she did not allow herself to ask. She was very young, Ginny realised when she looked closer at her while the girl showed them their cell, situated not too far from the Abbess'. She vanished for a few moments then came back, bringing the guests an ewer full of fresh water for washing and a tray laden with food. After that, she wished them goodnight and left them alone to eat and unpack-- their luggage was already in their room.

The food was simple but fresh, and the two travellers ate hungrily before they washed and settled for the night.

"What shall we do now?" Morag asked when they changed into their last clean clothes and finally laid down.

"We shall sleep." Ginny yawned then blew out the candles standing on a small table separating their beds.

"And then?" Morag asked, smiling, yawning as well.

"I... guess... we'll wait..." Ginny mumbled, her words slurred by sleep as she pulled Sir Lancelot's blue blanket around her tightly. It wasn't much warmer within the damp walls of the convent than under the tent.

Morag only nodded into the darkness in reply and the girls drifted off to sleep lost in their own thoughts; Ginny noticing with a pang in her heart that the soft, blue fabric was slowly losing its owner's scent. She missed him so much, she mused, wiping her tears in the blanket, surprised by the intensity of her feelings for a man with whom she had spent seven short days of her life...

Ginny's resolve to wait patiently lasted only a week or two. The convent life wasn't exactly adventurous, but it was a novelty for both the girls; and the nuns, the novices especially, accepted them within their midst happily. The Abbess insisted they follow the routine of the nuns lest they get bored, and so Ginny and Morag were woken before the sunrise every day to attend the church services with the sisters, from where they continued into the library where the young nuns were schooled by the older sisters, and, in the afternoons, they were required to help with spinning the wool for the nun's robes, weaving, or embroidering altar cloths for the church. None of these was Ginny's favourite pastime, but she obliged, uncomplaining, thankful to the good Abbess for offering her and Morag a shelter.

As the novelty of the convent life began to wear off, Ginny found her mind leaving its walls and inhabitants more and more often, returning to the world outside. Her week with Lancelot was beginning to feel distant and unreal, even though her feelings for him never changed... Had it really happened, or had it all been just a vivid dream...?

She wished to leave the convent, the island, and return to reality... And then what? What would happen now, what was she waiting for? How long was she to wait here yet, put aside, out of the way while the men were at war... The war... She had heard no news of the battle at Celidon Wood since she had set her foot beyond the walls of this monastery, she had no idea what was happening in the real world... It had been months since her knight had left her in Tintagel, promising to come back for her... Wasn't the battle over yet???

Ginny dropped her spindle into the basket placed at her feet and stood up, walking towards the only, too small fireplace of the vast cell she, Morag, and a handful of young nuns were working in. It was supposed to provide them with both light and heat, but it offered neither, really. Her eyes were tired, her fingers sore from all the spinning she had done lately, and they were freezing, like the rest of her body. And she was bored of waiting. If only she could go out, for a short walk at least, to lay her eyes on something else but four stone walls protecting, surrounding, suffocating her slowly, day after another long day...  But it had been snowing for at least a week now, even the convent's small herb garden was buried deeply...

"...my lady?" Sister Mary's voice reached the exasperated princess only when the young nun stood right behind her, her hand on Ginny's shoulder. "The Abbess wishes to speak to you."