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The sleepy guard at the south gate of Camelot stifled a yawn. It had been a quiet night so far and he was looking forward to more of the same. He looked up when he heard hoofbeats on the dusty road in front of him. A man on horseback approached at a decent clip. When he reached the gate, he stopped and said, “Ho there.”
“Who goes there?” the guard replied.
The man nudged his horse into the moonlight. The guard’s jaw dropped. “It can’t be you.”
“I suppose everyone thinks me dead,” the man said.
“Your funeral was less than three months ago.”
“I assure you that tidings of my death were greatly exaggerated.”
“But, but . . .”
Sir Lancelot sighed. “Are you going to open the gate for me?”
“Of course, Sir Lancelot.” The guard bowed. He pulled the mechanism that opened the portcullis.
“Thank you. And have a good night.” Lancelot rode through the gate and off toward the citadel. It looked like he was going to surprise many this night.
The banquet ground to a screeching halt. “Would you please repeat that?” King Arthur said to the page.
The page trembled but spoke a little louder this time. “Sire, Sir Lancelot is in the corridor waiting to be admitted.”
“That’s what I thought you said,” Arthur replied. He motioned to Guinevere on his right hand, Sir Leon on his left, and Merlin behind him. All three leaned closer. “What should we do?”
“Admit him, of course,” Merlin said right away.
“But is it really him?” Leon was not so sanguine.
Gwen trembled too, but not in fear. “How are we going to find out if we leave him standing out there?”
“Good point.” Arthur agreed. Raising his voice, he spoke to the page again while the others resumed their positions. “Admit Sir Lancelot at once.”
The courtiers gasped. The page ran back to the guards at the doors, relaying the order. Immediately, the guards opened the doors to reveal Sir Lancelot in simple clothing and a big grin on his face. He walked into the room, aware of all eyes on him. Stopping a few feet from Arthur, he bowed.
“Rise, Sir Lancelot,” Arthur said. Lancelot rose and his eyes flicked quickly to Gwen before settling upon Arthur’s again. “You may speak.”
“I see I am interrupting some grand feast. I apologize,” Lancelot replied.
“Whatever for? It is we who are honored by your presence. You have been thought dead these past three months. We had a funeral.”
“Obviously I am not.” Lancelot spread his arms wide. “It is quite a tale, but I’m not sure this is the appropriate time or place to tell.”
Arthur looked around. “Perhaps not. A wedding banquet does seem too festive an occasion. We will speak in private once it is ended.”
“A wedding banquet? Who has been married?”
“Guinevere and I are to be wed in a week’s time.”
Lancelot’s eyes flicked to Gwen again. She blushed and cast her eyes down. “That is indeed good news.”
Arthur turned to Merlin. “Make a seat for Sir Lancelot at the table.”
“Yes, sire,” Merlin replied, eyes shining.
Merlin quickly had a place set for Lancelot, and the banquet resumed. All eyes remained on the returned knight, and all lips murmured his name.
Much later, Arthur and his privy council, plus Merlin, retired to the council chambers. There, Lancelot stood in the center and told his story.
“After I walked through the veil, I had fully expected to become a spirit myself. But I was met by a council of spirits who were then debating my fate. Most of them agreed that my act was too noble and that I was too young to die. They thought I might yet do many noble deeds, so they touched me, and I knew no more until I woke, alone, on the Isle of the Blessed.
“I was left to make my way back to Camelot on my own. After I reached land, I walked to the nearest settlement and bartered with the blacksmith for a sword. To earn a horse, I’m afraid I became a sellsword. As soon as I earned enough to buy a decent horse, I quit and made my way back here. Back home to Camelot.”
“Your story is incredible,” Arthur said. All other heads were nodding. “And I’ll overlook your small infraction, for now you are home.” He rose and walked over to Lancelot, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “We must find you new chambers. Where will you stay until this can be accomplished?”
“He can have my bed,” said Merlin, stepping forward.
Lancelot smiled at his old friend. “I accept.”
The rest of the knights crowded around Lancelot, clapping arms and asking questions. Gwen stood next to Arthur, trying not to look at Lancelot. But her eyes kept drifting toward him. She had many of her own questions, and his return had stirred something within her. It felt an awful lot like longing.
After a few minutes, Arthur broke up the crowd. “It is late, and the games begin tomorrow. We must all get some rest.”
One by one, the knights bid Lancelot and Arthur goodnight. “You will participate in the games, will you not?” Arthur asked Lancelot.
“As it is you asking, I will. My fighting form has not changed significantly.”
Arthur clapped him on the back again. “Good. Now I’ll let Merlin escort you to his room.”
Gwen stepped forward. “If I may . . . it’s good to see you again, Lancelot.”
Lancelot bowed. “My lady.”
Gwen smiled. “I’m still not a noblewoman, Lancelot.”
“Ah, but in a week’s time, you’ll be my queen. I might as well practice bowing.” He bowed again and said, “Goodnight, Gwen.” This time he took her hand and kissed it.
“You old smoothie,” Arthur said, breaking the spell. He held out his arm to Gwen, who took it, and together they left the room.
“Shall we?” Merlin asked Lancelot, who shook his head.
“Yes. And you must catch me up on all the happenings around Camelot. I take it Uther finally died?”
They began walking. “Yes, and what a horrible affair that was.”
“Tell me about it. And oh,” he looked around, “is your magic working again?”
“It’s working fine. In fact, that was part of the problem.” He told Lancelot all about the events surrounding Uther’s death. By the time they reached Gaius’s chambers, he’d finished, and they’d moved onto other topics.
Gaius was pleased to see Lancelot again. They talked for a short time while Merlin changed his bedding. When he was done, He bid Gaius goodnight and stepped up into Merlin’s room.
As they changed for bed, Lancelot asked, “Are Arthur and Gwen truly happy?”
“I believe so,” replied Merlin, looking hard at Lancelot.
“That is as it should be. He’s a good man and she is a strong, intelligent woman. She will make an excellent queen.”
“That she will.” Merlin yawned. “It’s good to have you back, Lancelot.”
“It’s good to be back. Now, let’s get some rest.”
“You’ve got no argument from me.” Merlin laid down on the little pallet he’d made himself and fell asleep with a smile on his face.
Lancelot didn’t fall asleep right away. His head was full of Gwen, like it was most nights. When he finally fell asleep, her name was on his lips.
Gwen also had a hard time fall asleep. Lancelot’s arrival had stirred something within her. Was it just surprise at seeing him after he’d supposedly died? Or was it something more elemental? She didn’t want to think about that—after all, she was marrying Arthur in a few days’ time. Yes, that was the path she had chosen when Lancelot had walked away a few years ago. He’d chosen to walk away not once but twice, and they’d all thought he was gone.
She needed to keep her eyes on the prize—and Arthur was a prize. Out of all the women in Camelot, and those in other kingdoms, Arthur had chosen her.
So why did she feel so stirred by Lancelot?
Gwen came to the citadel early the next morning, to wish Arthur luck. On her way to fulfil some duties before the tourney, she ran into Lancelot, who bowed.
“I wish you’d stop doing that,” she said.
“I cannot, my lady. I value you too much,” replied Lancelot.
“Rise, please.” Her hands moved to help him up, but she snatched them back before they made contact. “Since we’re here, together like this, I wanted to say thank you.”
Lancelot frowned. “What for?”
“For saving Arthur. Without you, he’d be dead. And I’m eternally grateful for your sacrifice. Well, for the sacrifice you thought you were making. You’re too noble for this world, Lancelot.” She found herself tearing up and put her face in her hands.
“Gwen, are you crying?”
“No,” she said on a sob.
“You are crying. Here.” He pulled her into his arms.
She froze for a beat then relaxed. It felt so good to be in his arms. “Thank you.”
He chuckled. “You keep thanking me.”
“Oh!” She pulled away from him. “We can’t be seen like this.”
Another frown creased his brow. “Oh, yes. You are betrothed to Arthur. Of course. Forgive me; it was instinctual.”
“You are forgiven. But let’s not do it again.”
“Agreed.”
“But you are participating in the tourney?”
“Yes.”
“Then I will see you there.”
“Until then.”
As a squire was helping him don his armor, Lancelot thought. He couldn’t believe he’d been so foolish as to embrace Gwen. She was promised to another! And not just any man—the King. He must do better at hiding his feelings.
He had accepted that he’d always have feelings for her. Ever since the first time he’d come to Camelot. And he was sure she’d once had feelings for him too. He’d been gone too long and too often for her to return his feelings, hadn’t he? He was pretty sure they’d had a moment during his brief embrace where she’d relaxed in his arms. He could have held her forever, but she’d been right, of course. She was always right. So he’d just bury his feelings down deep again.
And that would be that, wouldn’t it?
Gwen sat in the royal box, overseeing the practice joust. One by one the knights would ride toward the decorated ring and hook it onto their lances. After they hooked the ring, they’d ride to her and dip their lances so she could reach the ring and remove it. It was a pretty gesture, and one she’d agreed to as part of the wedding celebration. But she was a little bored, at least until it was Arthur’s turn.
He rode out and hooked the ring, like the perfect knight he was. When he brought it to her, she accepted it and blew him a kiss. He pretended to swoon then rode off to have his armor removed.
But she sat up a little straighter when a knight in unfamiliar armor rode up next. This must be Lancelot, for they’d burned his armor at his funeral. He proved it when he hooked the ring and rode over to her, lifting his visor. She accepted the ring and said, “Thank you,” loud enough for him to hear. He smiled, and her stomach fluttered. She dimly heard his “my lady” before he rode off.
She sat down hard. What was this flutter about? She loved Arthur, not Lancelot. He was just a good friend, wasn’t he? He’d done a lot for her, so this must be simple gratitude. Yes, that had to be it. Gratitude. She’d always be thankful to him for saving Arthur, and that’s where her thoughts must lie. Arthur. Her betrothed.
Because she couldn’t still be in love with Lancelot. That was ridiculous. So why did she keep having to convince herself of that?
In the quiet of his new chambers, Lancelot tried to create a stillness within himself. He gave up after an hour. He just couldn’t do it. Not with Gwen present somewhere nearby. He couldn’t focus like he used to be able to do. So he gave in to the impulse and thought about her.
He thought about her beauty, inside and out. In all his travels, he’d found no other woman who could compare to her. Her kindness and strength brought him a certain steadiness. Like the north star, she was a guide to his conscience. She brought him light and direction. She drew him to her without thinking. If only . . .
But no. She was engaged to Arthur. And he respected Arthur like he’d respected no other man. He was a good man who didn’t deserve to have his love taken away. But if Gwen felt the same as he, Lancelot, did, that would be different. If she still loved him, that would change everything. She couldn’t, in good conscience, marry Arthur if she still loved him.
He stood. He had to go to her. He had to talk to her again, to find out what she felt. It had to be right now, or he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He had . . . he looked at the clock. It was midnight. He couldn’t interrupt her sleep with his needs. A sleepless night would be his lot this time, until he could talk to her again.
Gwen glanced at her small clock. Midnight. Her thoughts had been swirling around and around for hours and had not let up now that it was well past her bedtime. They centered on one topic, or rather, one person. Lancelot. The turmoil in her was so great that she almost wished he hadn’t returned. He had reawakened something within her, and she was afraid that something was greater than what she felt for Arthur.
Her mind kept thinking “what if?” What if he’d given her the option of leaving with him that first time he’d left Camelot to prove himself? She would have gone with him, no question. What if he’d done the less honorable thing and taken her that second time, after she’d been kidnapped? She would have gone with him gladly, for she and Arthur had not yet declared their feelings for one another.
Oh, the hell with it all. She still loved him. Lancelot. The one who’d gotten away so many times in the past. She had to talk to him, to find out if he felt the same. But the middle of the night was not the time. He was resting after a long day of knightly games. Wedding games.
The wedding, oh no! She (they?) was going to have to tell Arthur. Would he be sad? Would he be furious? Would he be hurt? Probably all and more. How could she hurt him like that? She loved him, yes, but she realized now it was more like what she felt for Elyan than what she should feel for a lover. How had she not seen this before?
She’d see Lancelot tomorrow sometime and work all this out. But for now, she needed her rest, though she didn’t think she’d get much. She had a good man to love and another to hurt.
Yawning, Lancelot made his way to Gwen, having asked a maid where she’d be. “In the laundry,” he was told. A knight appearing in the laundry would cause a stir, but he wouldn’t be long. He just had to arrange a later meeting with Gwen. It would not do to be seen together for very long.
He found her there, washing bedsheets. “You shouldn’t have to be doing this, my lady,” he said behind her.
She jumped and turned around. “Lancelot! What are you doing here?” She glanced at the other maids, all of whom seemed to be staring at them.
“I need to speak with you.”
“I need to speak with you as well, though this is neither the place nor the time.”
“I know.” He leaned closer to her, to not be overheard. “Your house, midnight?”
She nodded. It would do. “Goodbye, Sir Lancelot,” she said.
He nodded and left. Gwen glanced at the maids around her. They quickly turned back to their work. She frowned and turned back to hers. In a short time, the wedding games would start again, and she needed to finish her work.
Gwen once again sat in the royal box. This time, the knights were jousting for real. She watched as Percival and Leon jousted, with Leon coming up as the eventual winner. But her mind was not really on the match. She clapped at the appropriate times, of course, but otherwise she was thinking of Lancelot and Arthur, Arthur and Lancelot. The two turned around and around in her head constantly. Both men she loved in different ways.
She snapped to attention as the next two jousters were announced. Arthur and Lancelot, of course. How fitting. Neither knew they were jousting for her heart as well. But to her, it was no contest. Lancelot had already won that one.
In the world not confined by her heart, Arthur won the joust. She was relieved to see that neither were hurt and wished that it could be that way in her heart as well.
Minutes to midnight, Lancelot donned a dark cloak and stole quietly though the streets of Camelot. He had one objective, and that was to convince Gwen how much he loved her. He knew he was being disloyal to Arthur, but so be it. He had to get his feelings off his chest. If she didn’t feel the same, that would be the end of it. He’d find some way to live with the pain the way he had before. Somehow.
In her hut, Gwen paced. She knew this conversation would be the beginning of a new path for her. She was pretty sure he still loved her. She saw it in his eyes when they’d talked before. And before he’d sacrificed himself to heal the veil, she’d seen the pain in his eyes. Oh, he’d been quick to hide it, but it had been there.
A light knock sounded at her door, and she knew he was there. She opened the door and said, “Quick, come in.”
The figure in the cloak stepped inside and she shut the door. She turned to find Lancelot taking off his cloak and laying it over one of her chairs. “Gwen,” he said.
“I have to tell you something,” they both said at once. They laughed, then Gwen said, “You first.”
He walked over and took her hands. She flinched a bit but didn’t let him let go. “Gwen, I’m just going to come out and say it. I love you. I always have and I’m pretty sure I always will. I know you’re marrying Arthur in a few days, but I wanted to let you know, just in case.”
“In case of what?”
“In case there was some small sliver of a chance that you loved me back.”
“And what if I did?”
He smiled. “Gwen, are you trying to say . . .”
“Yes, Lancelot. I love you, too.”
He pulled her into a tight embrace for a moment then let her go. But he held her onto her hands. “You do?” She nodded. “Oh Gwen . . . you truly love me, not as just a friend or protector?”
“Yes, Lancelot, I love you in all the ways I should love Arthur.” She frowned. “Arthur, poor Arthur.”
Lancelot let go of her hands. “Arthur. I hate how this is going to hurt him.”
Gwen turned away for a moment. “I do too. Lancelot, what are we going to do, now that we know we love each other?”
“What choice do we have?” His stomach plummeted. “Do you feel like you can marry him while you love me?”
She turned back. “Of course not! That would be the worst kind of disloyalty I can imagine. It would only hurt all of us.”
He moved forward and caught her hands again. “Gwen, we have to tell him. There is no other way.”
“You’re right, of course. Oh, this is going to hurt him so much!” Her eyes welled with tears.
Lancelot pulled her to him again, more tenderly this time. “I know.”
He held her while she cried. Once she stopped, she drew back a little. “When should we do it?”
“The sooner, the better. Tomorrow would be best, I think. It gives him time to cancel the festivities left.”
Gwen cast her eyes downward. “A few days ago, if you’d ask me if I’d cancel the wedding for any reason, I would have said no. Now . . .”
“I think I know what you mean. If I wasn’t sure you loved me, I’d walk away.”
“We should probably tell him as early as possible.”
“I’ll ask for a private audience as early as possible in the morning.”
Gwen chuckled ironically. “You realize there’s a good chance we could both be banished.”
“I know. But we’d at least be together.”
Gwen took his hand. “Yes, we’d be together.”
Lancelot squeezed her hand. “Tomorrow morning we face our fate.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “I’ll send someone to find you for our audience. Now, get some sleep.”
Gwen laughed again. “Not likely.”
He gently pushed her toward her bed. “At least try. For me?”
“For you I’d do anything.”
“I know. Goodnight.” He picked up his cloak and slid it back on.
“Goodnight.”
A page found Gwen cleaning Morgana’s old chambers early next morning. “The King requests your presence in the council chambers,” he said.
“Thank you,” she replied and followed him out and toward the council chambers.
As she approached the doors, the guards opened the doors for her and closed them behind her. In the room she found Arthur on his throne with Merlin behind him. Lancelot was standing before him, smiling as if he and Arthur had been having a pleasant chat. “So, what brings you two here this morning?” Arthur asked.
Lancelot smiled at her, which gave her some courage. “Arthur, I, no, we have something to tell you. First, know that I love you.”
“I know.” Arthur’s brow furrowed.
“But the love I have for you is like that of a sister to a brother. It is not the way one should love a future husband.”
Arthur stood, looking between her and Lancelot. “Are you trying to tell me you don’t love me.”
“No, Arthur, I do. But I love you the way I love Elyan.”
Arthur frowned. “So you don’t love me the way I love you. Is there someone you do love that way?” He glanced at Lancelot.
“Actually, there is,” she said. She walked over to Lancelot and took his hand. “I’m in love with Lancelot. I always have and I know now that I always will.”
Arthur glared at their clasped hands and said, “So, have the two of you been sneaking around behind my back? Have you behaved . . . improperly?”
“No, absolutely not!” Lancelot said. “We’ve only talked a couple of times, and I believe those times we had witnesses.”
Gwen nodded. “Arthur, we have done nothing to be ashamed of. You must believe us.”
Arthur nodded. “I do believe you. You are both to honorable to have done otherwise.” He turned and walked back to sit on his throne. “I presume this means the wedding is off.”
“It wouldn’t be fair to any of us to do otherwise,” Lancelot said.
“No, you’re right,” Arthur said. He looked at Gwen. “Guinevere, are you sure he is what you want?”
Gwen glanced at Lancelot then back at Arthur. “I’m sure, sire.”
Arthur sighed. “You don’t have to call me ‘sire,’ either of you. Merlin calls me by my given name all the time.” Arthur sighed again. “I can’t pretend I’m happy about all of this. In fact, it hurts quite a bit. I’m not going to officially banish you two, but I don’t want you around Camelot for a while, say two years. Give me two years to get over this. Then I will welcome you back. But for now, you have two days to pack your belongings and I don’t want to see either of you.”
Gwen wept while Lancelot stood with his arms around her. “I understand,” he said.
“Be happy,” Arthur replied.
Merlin ran from behind Arthur’s throne. He put his arms around Lancelot and Gwen. “I’m going to miss you two very much.”
“We’ll miss you too, Merlin,” Lancelot managed, his throat catching.
When Merlin finally broke away, Lancelot steered Gwen from the room, one arm still around her. They went first to his chambers, where he packed his few belongings. “I just got back,” he said.
“I know,” Gwen replied still weeping. “This is better than we hoped for, but it still hurts. Camelot is my home. What will we do, where will we go? I don’t want you to become a sellsword again.”
“I could try my hand at farming, I suppose,” Lancelot said with a laugh.
Gwen sighed, the tears over for now. “I supposed I should go pack myself.”
“Aren’t you forgetting someone?” Gwen looked at him, confused. “Me. We’re in this together now.”
She smiled. “How could I forget?”
“Let’s go get you packed.”
“I’m going to need help to decide what to take.”
“That’s what I’m here for.”
Gwen nodded. “Let’s go. I don’t think it will take me two days to decide though. What if we left tonight?”
“Let’s do it. I don’t want to cause Arthur any more pain than we’ve already done.” He held out his hand, which she took. “You and me?”
“You and me. Together.”