Truth

The sky was a deep black, like midnight velvet. Small white orb- like stars nestled in the sky like jewels. The silver moon glowed, stark against the backdrop of the dark night sky. These feeble light sources scarcely penatrated the dark shadows cast over camalot like a bruise.

Flaming torches glowed, like fireflies in the night scattered through Camalot like marbles. The village was silent, it's occupants seemingly asleep. The only noise that pierced the silent night, was carefuly muffled behind the castle walls.

The grand feasting hall in the castle was full of life and colours as people talked and laughed together. An orchestra played in the background, as dancers turned in a swirl of colour, entertaining the fine guests that sat at the long mahogony table.

The large sea of people was overwhelming to me, more used to solitude. Standing in my flame coloured dress, I stood next to my brother who spoke to many of the knights and guests while I remained silent. I listened to the music, not sure where to turn my gaze.

Before long King Arthur came over to speak with my brother, dressed finely in a silken shirt embroided with swirls of gold, dark breeches and soft fur boots. To complete his look he wore two silver braclets, one on each arm and a crown nestled on his golden mane of hair. I turned my gaze from the King to assess his wife. Queen Gwenivere was as beautiful as I had heard, with her gleaming alabaster skin, dark tightly curled hair that tumbled down her back and warm honey coloured eyes. I felt insignificant as I noted her flowing pink gown, which made her look like a rose in full bloom, bedecked with sapphires and rubies.

Though my brother instantly struck up a conversation with the King and  Queen I remained silent, awed by the grandeur of the people around me. I felt too out of place to speak.

"I trust you are settling in well? How was your journey here?" the King asked my brother. The Queen, perhaps sensing my discomfort, gave me a warm smile which I returned and bowed my head a little as a sign of respect.

 "The journey was rather wearisom but since arriving in Camalot we could not have wished for a warmer welcome and I am sure we will find our stay here pleasant" My brother said. Their conversation continued, but I tuned out turning instead to focus on my surroundings.

My gaze was then drawn to a figure at the back of the room. He was a young servant boy. Even more insignificant than me I would not have spared him a second glance if he had not looked up. It was his eyes that made me stop and think that perhaps he was more than he seemed. They looked so wise for one so young.

An old grey haired man who stood next to the servant boy leaned in to whisper something in his ear to which he nodded, never once taking his gaze from me.

I was curious to know just who this young man was but I was a stranger in a foreign place and had no right or means to question anyone. I considered listening into my brothers conversation but from the snatches I heard they were just talking about jousting a sport which didn't interest me in the slightest.

Supressing my curiousity at the boy, I tried to mingle with the guests acting the part of loving and complacient sister to my brother. Bored from following the small talk of strangers I once again, diverted to scanning my surroundings.

All this display of wealth, from the high valuted ceilings with the crystal chandelebra to the mahogony feasting table with silver platters and golden goblets for each guest was the complete opposite of my life. I hid beneath a mask of shyness, using my fine dress to fit in with these people, but I knew I did not belong.

My life consisted of more than fancy parties and the patter of the rich. Before this, my life had been filled with misery and pain. But my past was a secret I was determined to keep hidden, just as I was hiding my workers hands beneath silken gloves.