The Lost Princess

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Her muscles were used to running and sword fighting with bandits over thrice her size. Scrubbing floors, wrestling a hog into its pen, carting hay for the horses, mucking out the stalls, and kneading dough, all in a thin brown dress and bare foot, took its toll on her body. She wasn't meant for this. She was born dainty and delicate, a princess, and it took years for her even to learn to fight. Sweat soaked through her clothes, outlining the curves of her body. It did nothing to help the stares from men, wed and unwed. Her long blond hair plastered to her forehead and tangled in knots behind her back.

All throughout the day, the townsfolk watched her. Eyes would follow her in the halls and the kingdom; drunkards eyed her bum as she struggled under the unruly weight of wet laundry. When she served meat and mead at court, Arthur's eyes followed her every move. Through her exhaustion, Gwenifver missed the glares, death stares, leering appraisal of lusty scoundrels. She was too busy keeping dishes balanced.

Coming in and out of the castle had become mundane and tiresome. There was no telling what Uther would make her do from cleaning out the stables to setting up the dining hall for supper. As she was gathering water from a well, Gwen saw her reflection on the water’s surface. Her porcelain face was spotted with dirt while her braided pony tail was disheveled upon her head.

She sighed, the thought of escape becoming nothing more than a blissful dream. Uther’s knights were constantly keeping an eye on her. As a matter of fact, there was a knight standing mere inches away – watching her every move, afraid she’d run at any possible chance.

She would.

There was no doubt in her mind that Arthur had warned his men about her…nature. He had first-hand experience in her cunning tricks. It was only three days past that Gwen had run away from him only to be captured by his hand a few moments afterwards. It was foolish, she thought. To think that he’d let me go.

With the bucket full in hand she turned and bumped into someone, spilling the water all over the young man who had been standing behind her.

“Oh! I apologize,” she said dropping to her knees to collect the bucket. “I did not see you there. I will be sure to wash your clothes and-”

The young man held up his hand to silence her; a small smile forming on his lips. Gwen looked at him and saw that he was almost a man grown, but boyhood still dawned upon him. She figured that he was only a couple of years her senior.

“No need. It is I that should apologize,” he smiled sheepishly, almost like he was humiliated at the scene they had caused. At the edge of Gwen’s vision she saw that the knight who stood on watch had taken a few steps forward, assessing the sight before him.

“I’ve actually come to fetch you. Arthur has requested your presence.

Gwen quirked her eyebrow, curiosity and anger shown in that simple movement. “He has, has he? Well, I will not go,” she said defiantly. She turned on her heel and returned to the well to fetch another pail as her first had been dumped all over the young man.

“You don’t have much choose, Gwenifver. He is the prince after all – no matter how arrogant and self-assured he is.”

Gwen laughed. She could not believe her ears. “What is your name?”

He extended his hand formally and waited until she put her hand in his and clasped it. “Merlin. I am Arthur’s manservant.”

“Ah,” she said. “I see now why you know first-hand of his brash, temperamental, and arrogant nature.”