Work Text:
"Что с тобой опять, не пойму я,
Скажи мне, что давно
О другом тоскуешь,
Только не молчи,
Не молчи весь день."
© Так и скажи - Валерий Меладзе
***
- Jenny! - the door to the queen's chambers swung open, causing the tulle on the windows to shake from the resulting flow of air.
The worried figure of the king appeared on the threshold.
- Jenny, where's Lance? I haven't seen him since last night, and no one has been able to give me a clear answer about his whereabouts yet.
Guinevere slowly turned away from the mirror (she had just combed her long curls) and looked over her shoulder at her husband.
- I suppose he's gone. - Her voice sounded indifferent.
- Where to? - Arthur took a few steps to get next to the queen, sitting down on a velvet-upholstered bench.
- Well, honey, how should I know? He left the palace, and I don't care much where he goes next.
- But he's never left so suddenly before! Lancelot always informed me if he needed to leave. - Arthur paused before fixing his eyes full of sadness on his queen - Did he tell you when he would be back?
- No. And what does it matter? He'll be back sooner or later anyway. He always comes back to you. - her last words were full of venomous bitterness.
The King, however, did not pay attention to Guinevere's intonation:
- I still don't understand why he would have to leave so suddenly. Without even telling anyone.
- I sent him away.
The sadness in her husband's eyes quickly turned to genuine surprise.
- Why?
- Because Sir Lancelot is a brute and a scoundrel!
Arthur sat in silence for several seconds, stunned by this statement.
- My dear, Lancelot is one of the most courteous people I have ever spoken to. I can hardly imagine him doing anything improper to a lady, much less to you...
- So you don't believe me? - Guinevere jumped up from her seat, straightening up, and her eyes flashed with cold fire.
- I didn't say that. - Arthur objected mildly.
- That's exactly what you said! You're questioning my words! You're questioning your own wife!
- I just said that I didn't expect Lancelot to do anything that could offend you. However, if you claim that he is guilty in front of you, then there are reasons for that.
Guinevere looked at him indifferently, still as straight as a taut string, and then sat back down in her seat, paying all attention to her own reflection in the mirror.
- So will you tell me what Sir Lancelot did to deserve your disfavor?
- Honestly, what does it matter now? At these words, she pointedly turned her back on Arthur.
- A lot!
- I won't say another word to you. Arthur wanted to object, but Guinevere beat him to it:
- This conversation is over. And if Your Majesty doesn't mind, I'd like to be alone with myself.
The king exhaled noisily and, slapping his knees, stood up, leaving the room.
****
The couple did not exchange another word all day. The servants were the first to suspect something was wrong, the knights were the next to feel the tension in the air, and thus by evening the whole castle was whispering and exchanging meaningful glances. A quarrel, of course, is a common thing and anyone can face it, even royalty. However, disagreements between the king and his queen did not happen very often, and if they did, everything was resolved quickly. But when people are silent during a conflict... Oh, this is a bad sign, everyone will confirm it here.
At lunch, however, the boycott was broken.
- You still don't want to explain anything to me? - Arthur asked in an undertone, casting an expectant glance at Guinevere.
- Well, not at the table, that's for sure.
- So that you can escape from me to your chambers again and lock yourself in there, as in an impregnable fortress? - he chuckled - No, Jenny, I won't miss you.
- If you don't stop, your plate will end up upside down on your head. - Guinevere hissed, to which she received a quiet chuckle.
For a few minutes there was silence between them again. The dining room was buzzing with friendly conversations, news and gossip. Pages scurried from one side of the table to the other, pouring wine for those sitting. Arthur nodded to the young boy who had refilled the royal glasses and returned to trying to break through the wall of cold silence that separated him from his wife.
- Jenny, you know that I love you and would never question your words.
- Oh really? I'm afraid I didn't notice it. - Guinevere's voice was full of sarcasm.
- Jenny. - Arthur frowned slightly - I believe you. You are the queen and my lady, but don't you think that sending one of my knights away without telling me anything is a little bit... Too much?
- I'm the queen, which means I have every right to give the knights orders, and they have to follow them. He's as much your subordinate as he is mine. - he snapped coldly.
- He's my friend.
- Well, and I'm your wife! - Guinevere said it a little louder than she intended, so she immediately bit her tongue.
Arthur exhaled noisily, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly. In the end, he raised his hand in defeat. He could not object to this argument:
- one-nil for you.
Guinevere gave him an arrogant look from head to toe, implying that her victory was a matter of course here.
- If you want a rematch, I advise you to prepare better than trying to soften me with your devoted looks and vows of love. - she added, because she knew for sure that Arthur would not give up.
And he didn't give up. The conversation continued in the queen's chambers and this time both sides allowed themselves to raise their voices once or twice.
- I do not dispute that he insulted you, I do not doubt your honesty, but, really, you could have told me! I'm not a seer and I can't know what's going on behind my back. If you need my help or protection, ask, and I will do my best to defend your honor.
Guinevere almost choked. This fight was lost for her. But she was raised in such a way that she would rather throw herself into the fire than admit out loud that she was wrong. Although she knew that Arthur was right, that there was no point in arguing further. In moments like this, she genuinely hated her pride. The queen turned away, feeling tears of impotence and remorse burn her face.
Arthur stepped up to her, wrapping her in a comforting hug:
- I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I was too harsh. Have I offended you? - he ran his thumb over her cheek, wiping away a tear.
She shook her head.
- No? And then what? What happened?- Guinevere just hid her tear-stained face in her husband's chest, and Arthur sighed gently, hugging her - Oh, Jenny, my sweet Jenny.
So they stood in the middle of the room, husband and wife, king and queen, deceived and lying, loving and suffering.
Guinevere knew she should have confessed to him. She had to tell the truth: about Lancelot, about her jealousy, about her love, about her tormented heart. She had to reveal every part of her soul to him, like a sinner in confession, because if there was a person who could forgive her, who was worthy of the truth, it was Arthur and only he.
But while this and much more flashed through her mind, the moment was lost. A fleeting moment, a second, something so fragile and elusive. The chance slipped from her weakened fingers, condemning her to the next few years of silent suffering.