Guinevere (Book 1)

Chapter 7

It is the day of the victory feast, and the thrum of activity around the Keep is unlike anything I have ever seen before. Over the last ten days, it had been a communal game of dodging the staff and courtiers in corridors and trying not to get in anyone else's way. Banners and flags were being put up everywhere, over every spare inch of the walls. Cook had been frantically trying to organise the kitchen staff and prepare for the feast but was rapidly losing his temper at everything and everyone. Stewards had been hard at work; cleaning the Great Hall, polishing the floors, dusting the windows and making sure there was not a speck of dust to be seen. Yesterday the furniture was set up in the Great Hall to accommodate the hundreds of people due to attend, which is where I am headed to meet with Father. In all of the chaos over the last couple of weeks, we hadn't had much opportunity to speak at any great length.

As I walk through the imposing doors of the Great Hall, I see him standing in the middle of the room, looking around slack-jawed. It's easy to understand why; I cannot remember when I last saw this room so lavishly decorated. Elaborately embroidered tablecloths in red, purple and gold had been draped over the tables, centrepieces in the form of huge wildflower wreaths atop them and candles just about everywhere. Banners had been hung from the oak beams, in both Camelot's red and purple of our own house, to show our new friendship and a shared victory. Three thrones on a low platform at one end of the room were decorated to match, and a grand table had been placed in front of them so that my Father, Arthur and I could sit and watch the room. Musicians were also present, setting up their music and instruments at the back of the hall, ready to rehearse.

Father turns and beams at me. "My sweet child! Doesn't this place look incredible? It hasn't been so bustling and decorated since your mother and I were married all those years ago. Nay, the day you were born! We had a feast so great... If only you were old enough to remember it."

I cannot help but smile back at his joy-filled face. "It certainly does scrub up well, that much is true! I'm glad to see you so happy, Father. A lot of work has gone into making it look like this."

"And all will be rewarded! Tonight, all who wish can go into the city and celebrate with their families. We owe them so much from the last few months. That of course goes for Enid too."

"I will let her know when I see her, she will be thrilled to be with her family," I say happily.

"Excellent!" Taking my hands in his, he continues, "I am so proud of you, Guinevere, for all you have done the last few weeks. You have gone above and beyond in helping out with our wounded. I will admit, I wasn't pleased to hear that you had volunteered, as it is not the job of a Princess. But I should know by now that when your mind is fixed on something, nothing will stop you. It warms my heart to know I have raised my daughter to be a humanitarian first and a Princess second."

I swell with pride at his words. "Thank you, Father. I'm sure the courtiers wouldn't agree, however. Swathing a man's wounds in various states of undress!"

"They may say what they like. Although, if Enid had not been there, I would have certainly thought twice about letting you in a room full of men."

I roll my eyes and sigh. "Enid kept a close eye on me, I assure you. Besides, the circumstances were hardly ordinary; with the numbers that came to us needing attention, I was happy to help. It was for us that they came here in the first place, so it was the least I could do. Proper or not."

"That's the spirit of your mother talking, mark my words. She was never one for propriety either, which is one of the reasons I married her."

Tears prick my eyes and all I can do is put my arms around him in a tight embrace. I wish I had known her.

Eventually, he releases me and says excitedly, "Speaking of your Mother, I have something for you. It belonged to her and I have kept it all these years."