The Chessboard Queen Read Free

streets lay below, but it was neatly planned, with a forum in the center and a church at the far end of the main road. There were even shops there! Guinevere had never been to a town except for her marriage in London, and shops amazed and delighted her. People living down there made pots and pewterware and wove cloth and baked sweet cakes. She could wander through the shops and choose whatever she wanted. On her father’s estate these things had been done to order, often by itinerant craftsmen.
    There had been little chance to select. Here whole families worked at their trades and grew in skill from childhood. It was wonderful to go down there and wander through the forum, hearing the sellers’ cries, watching a juggler or tumbler. Since Arthur had brought business back again, the old roadhouse had been refurbished, with public baths behind. When emissaries began to come, they would know that they were not dealing with some upstart general, but a real king.
    Guinevere sighed. She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. It was a perfect capital. Why then was Arthur still intent on building another city, where none had ever been before? This was so lovely and so suitable. Why was he obsessed by Camelot? He had tried to explain to her many times. “I must have a place that is mine, that no other lord has set his mark upon. I will not be lost among the hundreds of rulers, names on a list in a saga, nothing more than a row of candles in which, if one be blown out, the light would not diminish. There must be a sign for the ages to come that Arthur ruled here, that my dreams did not simply flow into thousands of others and drown. Camelot will be my city, the symbol of all that I am trying to accomplish in Britain. And it is there that I will set the Round Table.”
    She could hear him now, even above the wind and the calls of the birds. She couldn’t understand it. He was a great king, why should it matter where? Dimly she felt that his need for a visible manifestation of his reign was somehow tied to her and her failure. Five years they had been married and still they had no children. Guinevere did not wish to think of that. It embarrassed her that so many people had such a vital interest in the workings of her body. And it angered her that she had done nothing she knew of to deserve such divine punishment. She knew it was her duty to provide Arthur with children and, though she hadn’t cared much for the process, she had obeyed as best she could. But nothing had happened. They had consulted doctors, witches, oracles, and priests, but no one could help them. Although Arthur swore that they were still young and he had not given up hope, he had become more and more determined to build his city as each month passed. He was at Camelot now, checking plans and inspecting the work with Merlin. They were both probably totally happy.
    Guinevere shivered and pulled her cloak more tightly about her. Then she threw it open and leaned dangerously over the edge of the tower. Had she seen it? Yes! She was sure. A blaze of yellow and an old checked cloak. Gawain was back! At last, someone to play with. She waved to him, but he was too far away to notice her. He and a companion were picking their way through the vendors, leading another horse behind theirs. Who was that with him? Not Geraldus. Guinevere knew his old nag from any distance and this man rode a horse as strong and elegant as any she had seen. Perhaps he was one of those come to try for a place in Arthur’s special cadre. “The Knights of the Round Table” had sounded very silly when she had first heard Arthur explain it. What was a knight, anyway? But she had finally agreed that Arthur had been right. As soon as men heard that it was a select group of the best Britain could offer, they came from all over the island to attempt to gain admittance. Even the sons of some of the lesser kings, who refused to recognize Arthur as overlord, appeared at Caerleon, willing to relinquish their