Gwyneth stood on the balcony waving goodbye to her husband. It would be a week before the Lord returned. She didn't know why he was leaving, the most he would tell her was that it was for important business. Nothing for a woman to fret about, especially one of her stature.
For years, she had been Lady Terras. She had been betrothed to Lord Terras when she was a young girl. She was happy with the arrangement. After all, wasn't it every young girls dream to be married to a Lord, and bear his children? At least she always thought so.
Her eldest daughter had finally come of age at fourteen. Soon, Elizabeth, would be married off and the Manor in which they lived would seem all the more empty, desolate and lonely. Her son, Timothy had just reached the ripe age of fifteen and would be riding out to battle with his father. Luckily, the rest of Gwyneth's children were still young and would remain with her for several more years. However, she only got to see them once or twice a day.
Even after they were born, they were whisked away to be raised by Midwives and the Maestros of the Manor. This was how things were done. Perhaps they had always been done, even in ancient times. She knew she shouldn't complain, but she often found her bored with the way things were.
As a Lady, she did have several important duties in the Terras land. It was her job to respond to letters from other strongholds and the ruling lands, and when her husband was away she would deal with basic policies and issues in Terras. Usually it was a struggle between a couple of farmers and their land.
When she wasn't acting as Lady, and dealing with court hearings and letters, she often spent her time in the gardens or working on her latest piece of embroidery. Often times she would have to stand for the seamstresses while they fitted her for another expensive gown. Sure, the life of a Lady was probably better than the live a lower caste; but she couldn't help but find it dull.
She met Sir Gunther a long time ago when she first wed her dear husband. He had been made a knight of the manor; the head guard in fact. He was a kind and fair man that had seen the horrors of war. He almost never left the manor anymore since he had been promoted to such an honorable position.
For years, Gwyneth paid little attention to him. She was too busy enjoying her role as a Lady, a new wife, and a mother. She and Sir Gunther would often talk idly when they passed each other, or happened to meet up in the garden. Eventually, she found her heart fluttering with each short greeting. He was very handsome. Her husband wasn't bad, but someone about Sir Gunther started to haunt her dreams. His blonde hair and golden eyes seemed to swim across her mind, and even his scars became a curiosity.
She once asked him about the small scars that covered his face. He was happy to share his battle stories with her. He spoke with such enthusiasm and fluidity, she could have listened to his exciting tales forever. She then came to notice his limp, and when she questioned him about it he showed a soft saddened side of his personality. He had been burned during a raid, some days his left leg bothered him more than others, but it also made him impotent and less fit for battle.
The first letter she ever received from Sir Gunther, was a handwritten poetry piece flattering her voice and motherly kindness. Then gifts started coming, regularly. Often they were jewels she would have made into trinkets or necklaces. The others were scarves or perfumes from faraway lands. Then the letters started, sweet professions of love or flattering a piece of her beauty and kindness. She began to write back. Thanking him at first for his kindness, and soon professions of her own feelings for him.
She was sitting in the library. It was large and quiet room, well lit by windows and large candelabras. She was writing another letter. This one was a response to her daughter's betrothed, letting him know of the coming celebrations for their engagement. Beneath it was the letter she had been writing for Sir Gunther. She didn't want anyone to see, and made it apparent that she was busying herself with her duties.
"Mom," Elizabeth took a seat across from the table. "Do I have to marry Duke Eddard?" she asked without waiting for her mother's acknowledgement.
"Why wouldn't you want to marry a Duke?" Gwyneth asked curiously, not taking her eyes from the ink quill pressed against the parchment.
"I don't want to get married," Elizabeth said slowly, she stretched out a hand to take the papers from under Gwyneth's hands. They began to slide across the table, but Gwyneth hurriedly grabbed them and pulled them back to her. Fearing her daughter would see the letter under the one she was working on. She looked up at her daughter, and Elizabeth lifted a curious eyebrow. "Why are you even writing to the Duke? Shouldn't I be doing that?"
Gwyneth gave a cool smile, folding both papers up and setting them on her silk covered lap. "It just covers boring policies. They're not the love letters you would hope they'd be. It's a marriage of convenience to join our houses."
"I don't want to marry out of convenience," Elizabeth spat, slamming her fists on the table. "I want to marry for love; but before I do that. . ." she trailed off.
"I'm sure you'll learn to love the Duke. I hadn't met your father before we married, but I love him now."
Elizabeth scoffed and then quickly looked away. "You don't love him. You're with him because you had to be, and because of us."
Gwyneth knew she meant the kids; but she quickly dismissed the statement. She did love her husband. Perhaps out of necessity or convenience, but that didn't matter.
This was just how things were, and there was nothing wrong with that.
"I want to be a knight," Elizabeth said simply, still avoiding eye contact.
That took Gwyneth by surprise. Woman weren't meant to be knights; they were meant to be ladies, wives, and mothers. She had heard of a few woman that broke the laws of society and became knights, but often times these women were frowned upon. Never had Gwyneth though one of her own daughters would want to be one of these people.
"Please, don't make me marry Duke Eddard. I'd love to be head of the knight's guard, like Sir Gunther."
***
Gwyneth quickly dismissed her daughter, scolding her for saying such ridiculous things. Once Elizabeth left, Gwyneth finished her letters and gave them to the appropriate men for delivery. She left the library and took to her room. Her mind never left her daughter's words.
How could she force her eldest daughter to marry someone against her wishes? Of course she couldn't allow Elizabeth to become a knight; could she? The thought was ridiculous, but she prided herself in making sure her children would always be happy. It would be against everything she believed and worked for to force her child to marry and be forever unhappy.
She sighed and turned back to the mirror. She brushed out her hair until it shone, and then called upon one of her maids to braid it and pin it up in the proper style.
When she was finished she made her way to the dining hall for dinner. She was surrounded by servants and some of her husband's men. Her children lined one side of the large table, and she couldn't help but smile as the jolly conversations reached her ears.
Gwyneth was pleased to see the smiling faces of her children, and hear the hearty laughter of her men. She ate slowly, enjoying each bit of the feast laid out in front of them. She look around, surprised that Sir Gunther wasn't there. He usually didn't attend meals, he was always so caught up in own work: ordering guards, preparing ledgers, or whatever a head guard did.
Surely he had received her letter before dinner. Her heart pounded at the thought. She knew all about "Courtly Love", it was something every young child learned about.
King Arthur had mad Sir Lancelot one of his head Knights of the Round Table. The knight had fallen in love with Arthur's wife, Queen Guinevere; at least that was the most famous story of Courtly Love. Of course no one was allowed to steal another's love, and certainly not someone of a lower class. Lancelot professed his love to Guinevere and she hers, keeping the secret from the King's ears. The proper thing to do in these situations was to announce your love but never act on it, unfortunately the two of them did, and King Arthur had to sentence his cheating wife to death.
Gwyneth couldn't help but compare herself to the Guinevere. It may have just been a story but she could easily understand how one could love two people and how it was easy to give in to temptation. That was exactly what Gwyneth planned to do. Her husband was away, and a night with Sir Gunther, or perhaps a few nights, would hopefully get all of these feelings out. And afterwards, when her husband returned, she could set the entire mess aside and return to the acts of Courtly Love. Let him profess his love, but never act on it again.
***
That night, Gwyneth prepared for Sir Gunther's visit. She had requested he come see her, in secrecy when it was safe. He would be there after midnight, and she wanted to make sure everything was perfect. She had dressed herself in her most expensive pink silk nightgown, and decorated the bed with flowers from the garden. She sat before the mirror and bushed her long brown hair.
She was anxious, how could she not be? She was about to break the rules of Courtly Love and cheat on her husband, the Lord Terras, but she had never wanted anything more. Perhaps that was the attraction of forbidden love. It would be one time only. A few days seemed dangerous. She made up her mind to make it clear that it was only for tonight. Perhaps it would break her heart, but she needed to be careful; no one could know.
There was a knock on her bedchamber door. It then opened slowly, Sir Gunther made his way into the room. He slowly closed the door behind and looked at her with a grim smile. He was dressed in handsome red robes, and his face was scruffy with the late night shadow. The scars on his face seemed to gleam in the candlelight and Gwyneth couldn't help but swoon.
"You wished to see me, M'lady?" He asked gently with an air of importance. She expected him to say this, after all, it was the appropriate thing to say when you were asked to visit someone.
"Yes, Sir Gunther," she replied with her usual voice of royalty. "I asked to see you to speak to you about your letters."
