Chapter 2: Not All That Glitters

Guinevere sat with her back on the cave wall and frowned as she assimilated the information a scout had just provided her.

Silent for a minute, she finally said, "Continue to monitor the situation and keep me updated as it changes. In the meantime, we will continue the mission as is."

The knight bowed and walked out of the cave. Guinevere’s eyes followed him to the mouth of the cave where she could see the tips of field stakes and the tops of pitched tents.

It had been five days since she and her men arrived at the western duchy. The subjugation plan was going flawlessly. In the first three days that they had tangled with the Saxons, they had whittled their numbers to a quarter of what it used to be.

The report had been sent to the duke and Guinevere severely wished she could see the look on his face when he received the news but she had to remain in position. Especially as she received news from one of the scouts she had posted around their camp.

A strange individual was spotted entering and exiting some caves south of the ones her troops currently inhabited. For the past five days since they took up residence in the caves, the scouts had been spotting individuals, sometimes groups of people, in the caves.

Whenever the scouts tried to follow them, they always lost the trail in the labyrinth of caves. It was a worrying report because although the scouts had assured her that they were not Saxons, the possibility that someone was spying on the movement of her troops was disconcerting.

Guinevere had readied several contingency plans but it seems the individuals whoever they were, were perfectly content on just watching. Well, she would deal with that later. Now, she had the battle to win.

Palming the ground and rising in one fluid motion, Guinevere armed herself with her swords and walked out of the caves and down to where her troops were currently getting ready for battle. Today was the last day of the fighting and she would be personally leading the troops out today.

She had learnt to let her men fight on their own once in a while so they could rack up some achievements for themselves and so that she would not be accused of taking all the glory. Today, however, she had to make sure that all the infidels were cleared out.

She had promised herself that this mission will not take more than seven days and she had to keep that promise. Mounting her rubican stallion, she skimmed over the field and raised a hand in the air to call for silence. A moment later, the clangs of metal and the murmurings came to a stop. The knights looked at their awesome leader, awaiting her words.

Guinevere did not keep them waiting for long. With a loud voice, brimming with confidence, she spoke to the army of men. “We have fought bravely for the past five days. Today marks the final day of our presence here in the West. We will end the Saxons tonight!”

The men roared and clamoured, their faces shining with excitement as they banged their swords and shields together. She waited for the noise to lessen before continuing.

“We will chase them down to their hovels and destroy them. We will make them regret ever setting foot in the glorious kingdom of Camelot.”

More clamouring.

“This is our time to shine. This is our time to show the king that we are worthy knights, time to show him our prowess.”

The men became quiet as the intensity in Guinevere's words travelled across the field like breeze rippling through the grass.

“You are all aware that the king has promised us a reward of our choosing when this battle is over. This is our chance to become members of the king's army. To become elite knights. So, men, when you fight today, fight with all your strength and all your heart and all your soul, keeping your gaze firm on the reward that has been set before us. For glory, for Camelot!"

“For glory, for Camelot!” the men bellowed as one.

“Take your positions and let us run the Saxons out of our land!”

Full of vigour, the men readied their equipment and arranged themselves into the prearranged positioning. The signal was given and they rode out in tight formation.

The caves where they had hidden overlooked the plains where the Saxons invaded from and so they had the advantage with the high ground. Guinevere had a basic plan. She would use the infantry to pin the Saxons in the region she wanted them and then mounted knights would flank them, dealing damage. The archers would then pick up any stragglers.

It seemed like a basic plan but Guinevere knew that the skill of her men would make it highly efficient.

The adrenaline seeped into her bones. Her muscles bunched and tensed, quivering with excitement, fear and tension. Her breath came quicker and quicker. Beside her, she could hear Lancelot breathing hard as well. Their eyes locked and she grinned at him. She knew what he was feeling. She had fought many battles in the past but this feeling never went away. She liked it though. It reminded her that she was human. Frail but determined.

Donning the bright silver helmet, Guinevere unsheathed her blades and thrusting her right hand in the air, she screamed, “Charge!”

Her stallion shot out of the line of soldiers and the knights swiftly followed suit.

She swung her sword and the sharp blade connected with the neck of a Saxon but it did not stop there. In one swoop, Guinevere felled three men, their bodies dropping with a thud to the field beneath them. The ferocious attack frightened the men in her vicinity and they tried to scramble away but Lancelot was behind her, not as ferocious but just as quick and soon three men fell by his blade as well.

The duo charged down the middle of the enemies and carved a path for their allies to follow. The sound of clashing swords carried on till the mid-afternoon, albeit steadily diminishing.

Guinevere panted and pulled her helmet off with a grunt. She surveilled the field before her with grim satisfaction. She did not think that the battle would last this long. Say what you may about the Saxons, they were formidable fighters.

But her men were more formidable.

The battle was all but won. Lancelot rode up to her and reported. The last of the Saxons were retreating, if their dash for the border could be called a retreat.

“Lead a group to chase them down and kill every last one of them. The rest of us will regroup and mop up any leftovers. The battle is over.”

Lancelot received his orders and steered his horse away. Guinevere watched him go before turning back towards the caves. She rode swiftly with the wind tossing her hair into a frenzy behind her. Her men cheered, lifting their swords in a warrior’s salute, at the sight of their once again triumphant leader.

She smiled, letting her happiness show. Yes, the battle was over. They were once more victorious. But one thing kept nagging at Guinevere’s mind. Throughout the battle, she had stationed a group of knights at the rear to guard against an ambush.

The flow of the battle made it look like she had employed a basic hammer and anvil strategy but the reality was that Guinevere had arranged her knights into a poleaxe formation, keeping the entire squad flexible and ready to swing in any direction. It was obvious that she was on guard to any extraneous attacks.

But none came. The battle was over, well and truly won with no interruption.

And it begot a question. What were the individuals who were in and around the caves doing? Were they spies hired by the duke to observe the battle? If they were not from the duke, then from the king? Or another interested party?

Whatever it was, Guinevere did not like to leave things that could bite her in the back. That was how she had survived so far and that was what would guaranty her continued survival. So she urged her steed towards the cave closest to the last reported sighting and dismounted once she arrived.

She hid the horse behind one of the rock formations and began creeping slowly and keeping low to the side of the caves. Luck shined on her and she spotted a middle-aged man dressed in a peculiar uniform walking into a cave. Guinevere kept her head down to avoid being spotted but the man did not seem careful about his surroundings.

She followed the man, noting his ease and confidence as he made his way further into the cave without any source of light. The deeper she followed him into the cave, the more she became convinced that he had been doing this for a long time; it seemed impossible that he had been simply commanded to follow and spy on her troops. They had just arrived in the region five days ago. This man had been doing this for months, if not years.

Guinevere trailed him carefully, partly because she did not want him to see her and partly to keep from tripping on the cave's rough floor. He suddenly turned left and walked into the wall. Surprised, she rushed to the spot he disappeared from and ran her eyes all over the area.

What just happened?

She spun around in confusion before noticing that there was a small cleft in the wall, barely enough for a human to fit through. Was this where he disappeared?

There was no other way to find out and she did not want to stand here in case there were any hostiles nearby. Guinevere took a step forward and shimmied into the tight space, wincing as the rough surface rubbed against her uniform and skin. But her discomfort did not last long.

Soon, the narrow fissure opened into a much larger space with tunnels and wooden stanchions. Mine was the first word that popped into Guinevere’s mind. This was a mine. But another question soon followed. What was being mined here?

Curious and cautious, Guinevere drew one a dagger from her waist—a sword would have been too long to swing around in the tunnel—and crept silently along the walls, using the undulations as cover to travel undetected.

The deeper she went into the mine, the louder the sounds of metal striking stone were. The vibrations in the walls were also more prominent. She was getting closer. Running her palm against the wall, Guinevere allowed the tremors and the sounds to guide her. She reached a spot where the quakes and the rumbles were at a peak.

She squatted and looked into the hole, and her mouth promptly fell open. It was not the sheer number of men working in the mine that startled her. It was the precious cargo that they carted away in trolleys, the jewels that glittered in the walls.

Diamonds. They were mining diamonds. This was an illegal diamond mine.

She did not have to think hard to know that the mine was illegal. All the disclosed mines were in the north. And the manner with which the miners conducted their activities was also proof that the mine was illegal.

There was no special equipment that would mark the area undergoing mining operation or any guards that would serve as an indication that something valuable was contained in the caves.

Guinevere’s mind made all sorts of mental flips as it ran through all the possibilities. She thought back to the history she had learned. The skirmish that had occurred before she was born, when Uther was the crown prince and had not yet ascended the throne.

The bout of fighting had occurred between Camelot and the neighbouring kingdom, Endore. One thing led to another and Camelot ultimately lost that battle. As part of the reparations, they had to pay tax on any article mined in Camelot that was to be sold elsewhere.

The tax increased as the value of the material increased and as one of the most precious articles in the world, the diamond tax was exorbitant. The unattractive prices repelled buyers from other kingdoms and Camelot ended up losing a large portion of the internal revenue due to this tax.

But if there was a mine that was hidden from general knowledge, a mine whose jewels were not taxed, then it would be a great benefit to whoever owned them.

The king had to know about this. Making up her mind swiftly, Guinevere rose and nimbly her way out of the mines. Her men should be returning. It would be harsh to ask them to seize the mine now. They had to rest. Once they did, she would command them to surround the caves and capture the mine.

Yes, all the men could not squeeze through a cleft in the rock but Guinevere was certain there was another entrance; one that allowed the miners to move their jewels and equipment freely and quickly. She had to find it and march in with her troops.

***

She watched as her soldiers seized the miners, restraining them and pushing them up against the rocks. They worked quickly and efficiently, the tiredness from the battle fading away. This was another chance to gain accolades. Defeating the Saxons and busting an illegal diamond mine. Their honour would increase ten-fold.

Guinevere watched the proceedings and could not help the cold feeling that nestled between her shoulders. The man who had identified himself as the head miner glanced at her and smiled nastily.

He spoke in a voice hardened by years of inhaled mine dust. “It would have been better if you had just ignored what you saw but now, you are going to pay the price.”

She stared him down, eyes unwavering, unlike her heart. The soldiers around her quickly beat him into silence and Guinevere turned away, biting her lip. What price?

“...ere.”

“…nevere.”

“Guinevere!” Lancelot shouted and Guinevere jolted, alarmed.

“What is it?”

“That’s what I would like to ask you, my lady. You seem out of it.”

Guinevere shook her head in place of an answer. "What was the response from the king?" She had asked him to send an urgent message to the king, telling him about the mine.

"He asked us to keep the bust a secret. He will send some elite knights to aid us in the arrest and the clean-up. They are already on their way."

She nodded. “That’s fine. Let’s wait for the imperial army before we move out.”

"Will do," Lancelot said. Then added in a concerned tone. "Guinevere, you need to rest." By using her name, Lancelot crossed the line between official and personal. Allowing herself some reprieve, Guinevere raised her hand to softly ruffle his light brown hair.

“I will.” She turned to survey the area for a place where she can rest without being disturbed. The caves to the right of them were high up and out of the way enough for a quick nap. She pointed and said, “Let’s go up.”

Lancelot followed her finger and nodded. They climbed up and reclined at the entrance of one of the caves. They sat close by, their shoulders almost touching. Lancelot reached over and touched her neck, settling her head on his shoulder.

“Sleep,” he commanded.

Guinevere smiled. “I will heed your command, sire.”

They both chuckled softly and Guinevere closed her eyes, content to remain like that, under the inky sky. Although she slept peacefully for hours, she felt like she had barely closed her eyes when Lancelot shook her awake.

“They’re here. The king’s men,” he whispered and followed up with, “Something doesn’t feel right.”

Guinevere blinked rapidly, trying to clear the sleep from her eyes. She trained her sights ahead and watched as the army approached, all of them mounted and galloping towards the caves at full speed.

She immediately agreed with Lancelot. Something was not right. Did the king send such a large force to clean up an illegal mine? No. Instincts honed by years of fighting told her one thing. They were not here to aid them. They were here to kill.

Guinevere rose and bellowed into the night. “All men to arms!”

The response was instant. The horns sounded and her men began preparations to battle. The approaching army also wasted no time. Their archers, riding at the rear, loaded their bows and fired.

The arrows rained down. Guinevere pulled both her swords and prepared to defend herself, but Lancelot stood in front of her, sword drawn.

“Go. Mobilize the men. I’ll cover you.”

Guinevere looked like she was going to argue for a moment but ultimately decided to heed his words. She turned back and immediately made her way back down the rocks. She did not fear any arrow striking her in the back. If Lancelot said he would cover her, then no arrow would make its way through to her.

“Are the Saxons back?” they asked each other as they armed themselves and mounted their horses. By then, the thudding of the approaching army’s stallions had reached them. They stood in formation, tense and waited for further instructions.

Guinevere herself had already rushed down from the cave, mounted her steed and drawn her swords, praying and hoping she misread the situation.

Soon, the vanguard of the approaching army arrived at their makeshift camp. The silvery light of the moon reflected on their uniforms and she gasped. Emblazoned above their left breasts was not the typical crest given to a knight of Camelot or even the one given to the imperial army.

These knights belonged to the interior palace guards. The very guards that protected His Majesty Uther Pendragon. What were they doing here?

She was not alone in her confusion. The men around her also furrowed their brows. Why would their leader call them to arms against the palace guards? Was that not treason? And why would the palace guards attack them?

“They probably think we are Saxons.” That line travelled down the formation and so the men felt the tension drain out of them. There was no battle to be fought here. It was not until the first few throats were viciously cut that the men realized that there was no mistake. The palace guards were here to hunt them down. Why?

Guinevere severed a hand pointing a sword at her while she contemplated the situation. The mine belonged to the king. That was the only answer she arrived at. It was the king who owned the mine and he had sent his most trusted men, the palace guards, to keep its existence secret.

And although her men were superior to most private soldiers in the kingdom, they were not better fighters than the soldiers that protected the most powerful man in Camelot. Even if they could have stood a chance against the palace guards someday, it would not be today, being so fatigued as they were.

Not long after the assault began, Guinevere and her men were forced into submission, tied like the miners they had arrested. She tried to struggle out of her bonds but stopped once she heard a thump behind her. She craned her neck to see Lancelot on the floor, blood trickling from his mouth.

“G-guin-evere,” he managed to say before a sword was sunk in his chest, blade striking the stone beneath him.

Guinevere gasped, blood draining out of her face as she stared into Lancelot’s lifeless eyes. “No. No. NOOO! Lancelot!” She screamed her pain and denial into the night sky. She struggled with renewed vigour against the men that held her.

They grunted as she kicked and shoved them away and ran to Lancelot. She slid on the ground beside him but there was nothing she could do. His body was still warm but there was an unnatural stillness in his limbs. Lancelot, her friend and most loyal knight, was dead.

She begged, cried and pleaded but there was no one to hear her pleas. Eventually, Guinevere was drained of strength and willpower. And so, when the guards surrounded her once more, they were met with no resistance. Guinevere was dragged off, shackles placed on her hands and feet. Her eyes were blank and filled with tears.

Lancelot was dead; the sight of his limp body forever etched in her mind.