Page 96 of Gwen and Art Are Not in Love

‘Because the man is a coward,’ Sir Hurst said. ‘I suppose that assassin was a last-ditch attempt to prevent all-out warfare.’ He turned to the king, shaking his head. ‘This is my fault, sire. I take full responsibility. I should have—’

‘Let’s not waste time on regrets now,’ said the king. Sir Hurst nodded bracingly, then took him aside. The rest of the room lapsed into anxious muttering.

‘Gabe, stay,’ Gwen said desperately, as a page lifted the breastplate of his armour and attempted to secure it. ‘Somebody needs to, in case—’

‘G,’ Gabriel said quietly, fumbling to help the page; the small shake in his voice as he attempted to be reassuring broke Gwen’s heart. ‘I have to go. We need everybody we can get, and besides, Father is right – how would it look if we just sat here and hid, while we sent other men out to fight for us?’

Gabriel was shrugging on his pauldrons so that the page could buckle him into them. With every new piece of armour added to him, it felt as if Gwen were watching him being entombed – his narrow, breakable body gradually encased until she hardly recognised him any more.

‘Gabe,’ she said quietly, desperate now as she felt them running out of time, moving closer so that only he and the boy dressing him could hear. ‘If Arthur’s father – if he was working with Willard this whole time, then that means Arthur must have—’

‘Yes,’ said Gabriel, briefly closing his eyes. ‘Yes, I know. I can’t quite believe it of him, that he could have sat in our rooms and laughed with us, all the while knowing he wasworking to send us to our deaths, but … I suppose I didn’t really know him at all.’

‘He didn’t deserve you,’ Gwen said tearfully, gripping the shoulder that had not yet been plated. ‘He didn’t deserve either of us.’

‘Well. Nobody does,’ Gabriel said, smiling weakly; a moment later her hand was being waved away so that his armour could be completed, and then everybody seemed to be moving at once. The king signalled for them to exit, and they all walked briskly from the room and down the stairs, a clamour of steel and tense voices and boots on stone. They reached the Great Hall and were greeted by the sight of hundreds of men pulling on armour, swords being pressed into hands, helms placed on heads.

It was all happening too quickly. Gwen felt like a child clutching at handfuls of water, unable to understand why it wouldn’t stop running through her fingers.

‘Gabriel,’ she began, but he had already been pulled into a conversation with her father and Sir Hurst; they were gathering the men around them, shouting instructions, and the queen pulled gently at Gwen’s arm to stop her from getting in the way.

‘They can’t just do this,’ Gwen said, expecting her mother to agree, but she didn’t – because of course they could.

Her father strode over to kiss her mother, his eyes squeezing tightly shut; he pressed his forehead against Gwen’s for one quick moment, and all she could think was that when he walked away, his beard would still be wet with her tears.

Gabriel didn’t say goodbye. He tried – Gwen saw him take a step towards her with a hand half raised – but then there were shouts from the courtyard and her father clapped his hands together.

‘Move out,’ he shouted.

And they did.

Up until the moment all the shouting started, Arthur had been relatively convinced that his father was just being miscellaneously unhinged; he had been both baffled and furious, but not surprised. It didn’t seem out of the realms of possibility that his father might just be in the mood for tying Sidney up and holding his own son at swordpoint, after all. Unlikely, but not impossible.

When he heard the distinctive sounds of panic – the deep, brassy command of a guard shouting ‘Protect the king!’ – he finally realised that this was no aimless midlife crisis.

‘What’s happening?’ Arthur shouted, struggling against the guards that held him, craning his neck as he tried to catch a glimpse of the tournament grounds behind them. ‘For Christ’s sake, what thehellhave you done?’

‘Shut up,’ his father said, striding along beside him. It had started to rain, light but steady, the drops pattering loudly on helms and armour. ‘For once in your life, shut up andlisten.’

‘Not until you tell me—’

‘Not until you quiet down.’

‘Fine,’ Arthur said bitterly, wincing as his leg dragged.

‘I have formed a very advantageous alliance,’ his father said, practically spitting with excitement, his face ruddy and flushed behind his beard. ‘An alliance that will restore glory to our house, and our name.’

‘I was about to be married,’ Arthur said through gritted teeth. ‘To theprincess.’

‘You should be pleased then, that I’ve found a better way forwards,’ his father said dismissively. ‘The king obviously thinks little of me, andyoucertainly weren’t going to argue my case or show me preference despite the fact that we are blood, something you made very clear in that delightful hate mail of yours – and I see no reason why I should wait around for the scraps of whatever the king was willing to spare. No, no – we’re being offeredrealpower, Arthur. As befits us. When Lord Willard takes the throne—’

‘Oh fuck,’ said Arthur, his eyes widening. ‘Jesus. You haven’t.’

‘Think he has,’ Sidney wheezed; he’d been punched quite hard in the solar plexus after they tied his hands, and Arthur was glad to hear him perking up.

‘This isn’t funny,’ hissed Lord Delacey, rounding on him.

‘Actually – I agree,’ Arthur said disjointedly, as a guard pulled painfully at his arm to keep him moving. ‘It’sfarfrom funny. So, just to get me up to speed, we’ve joined…