I like to sit on the convent wall sometimes, when the wind is from the south and warmer than usual. I used to sit in the pare tree in this corner, but it has long since fallen over in some storm or another. I’d spend hours in this corner, waiting for father to come with stories and pretty trinkets. Once that was all I ever wanted. Nothing more than a loving father and safe walls to live behind for the rest of my life. But that wasn’t my destiny. Instead I followed a path of turmoil, heartache, and in the end, loneliness.

As I gaze over the land, I reflect on the fact that once I was mistress of it all, once I was Queen over what had seemed the whole world. But I didn’t want it then, and I still don’t. What I had was more than any woman could wish for, yet I still desired more. And paid dearly for that wanting. I allowed my mind to wander, drifting back again to when I was a girl, and my future was only beginning to unfold.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

In the east corner of the garden there is a tree whose branches are strong and slender, full of leaves in summer, and bare of limb in winter. It was in this tree that I made my refuge, a place to hide from the older girls who scorned climbing trees, and the younger girls who hadn’t learned how. It was my place, and it was to this tree that I retired when escaping an unbearable chore. Such as the sweeping that currently awaited me. I hated sweeping, and I hated seeing all the nasty little spiders and other things crawl around of dark corners. Those denizens of the night haunted my deepest fears, and I detested seeing them in any form other than dead. I’d rather almost any chore except scrubbing the floor itself. That would mean brining my hands close to the loathsome creatures. So thus, I hid in the tree, making my company with the creatures of the light.

“Guinevere!” I startled as the Mother Prioress call me. I always recognized her voice over the others; it held a distinct note of impatience remarkably combined with inexplicable weariness. Her face also seemed to permanently echo this sentiment, which I found astounding. She was unchanging and set in her ways as a rock, and as easy to understand and anticipate as my father’s dog, Ruff. I was different. Father always said I was like a tomb, no one would ever peer into my depths, for fear of a curse. I could never decide if that was a good thing or not.

“I’m right here, Mother!” I called back, carefully lowering myself from the limb of the sturdy pear tree. I checked; luckily there was no stain upon the simple novice gown that was my uniform here at the convent. I straightened up quickly as she came around the corner of the east dormitory, her lips pursed disapprovingly and her eyes stern.

“Where have you been?” the question was followed with a sigh, as the Mother peered into my countenance, searching out any lie that could be hiding there.

“Here. Sitting, Mother.” I looked her boldly in the face. I was being entirely truthful.

Evidentially she felt she had to be satisfied with that. “Your father has sent word that he is on his way. You must be cleaned up for his arrival, little one.”

I felt a glimmer of excitement; it must have been at least a year since father had last come by the Dovenry Convent. He’d placed me there when I was five, after my mother died in childbirth along with my little brother. When I asked my father why he wanted me to leave then, he simply told me that a man’s household was no place for a proper young lady to be raised, and that was the end of that. He’d since remarried and had two sons by his new wife, but I stayed in the convent. I didn’t really mind- I’d heard about stepmothers from my friends, and I didn’t particularly care to meet mine.

I stepped into the dormitory that I shared with five other girls, surveying the empty interior with satisfaction. It was a plain room, with simple cots and a wash basin and mirror at the end for all of us to share. We were all the children of nobles, sent to be raised properly in the Christian faith. At present, the rest of them were out and about, doing various chores or playing with one another. I had the room to myself, something that was a highly unusual circumstance.

I brushed through my chestnut hair quickly, admiring the way it fell in sleek waves about my shoulders before I braided it back up again. I braided all the girls’ hair in the morning, being the neatest out of them all, so I’d gotten to very quick at it. I left my smock on to protect the dress until father came, otherwise I knew I’d be covered with stains, and father didn’t like when I looked like that. He wanted me to be pretty and proper, just like my mother had been. He’d often told me it was a lady’s duty to be elegant for her family, and I certainly didn’t mind that. I loved pretty clothes, it was just so hard to keep them clean, no matter how hard I tried.

Hearing the rattle of carts upon the road and the shouting voices of men, I ran out of my room and through the courtyard to the entrance of the convent. Father was sure to have presents for me, and lots of stories to tell of his trips around Britain. He was a merchant noble, very wealthy and influential, probably more so than any of the other girls’ fathers, even if they had older or larger titles.

I slowed as I entered neared the gate where father would be welcomed. Mother and several other nuns were already there, and I didn’t want to earn any disapproving stares. As I moved into place, Sister Theresa came and held my hand, giving me a gentle smile, her cornflower-blue eyes lighting up in return to my own grin. She was one of my favorites, always overlooking bad behavior from the novices. She liked us, and when she worked in the kitchen could always get a tart or some other sweet off of her. Persuasion was simply a matter of knowing the right thing to say and do, and I was especially good at it, since my face was so closed. No one could ever tell when I was lying or not.

A knock on the gait and my father was quickly welcomed, though knowing the rules, he stayed right in the doorway. No male guests past the entrance hall; the sanctity of the women’s place was protected here. He had hardly changed since I last saw him, and this made me happy, it was easier to think that his life revolved around me instead of my stepmother when he hardly changed in between visits. I waited patiently as he greeted Mother respectfully, then could no longer restrain myself as he turned to me.

“Father!” He hugged me, then gently disengaged my arms, warning me, “You’re getting a bit old for that now Guinevere.” I had been too old for displays of affection for years, but father had never said anything before. I wondered why he had brought it up now, and looked at him curiously.

He smiled down at me though, cheerful and in good humor, “We have much to talk about later, Gwen, but for now, there are the horses to see to and the men to feed. I’ll speak with you on the morrow.”

“But father…”

“No buts. Be a good girl, Gwen.” He turned and thanked Mother for her hospitality, then strode out the door to where his men would be setting up camp. I felt vaguely disappointed, and I think Sister Theresa saw that in my face.

“Cheer up, Gwen. He must have a lot to talk to you about, to have to wait till later.”

My mood instantly improved, I returned her hesitant smile and disengaged my hand from hers. “Yes, you’re right of course. Thank you sister.” I walked calmly outside, then broke into a run when I reached the courtyard. I’d be able to see everything going on in the camp from the tree.