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Gwen and Arthur are interrupted by the squealing of children. The twins, two curly headed children, burst their way into the bedchamber.
“Papa papa” cried Ygraine “Lancelot won’t let me play with the sword, he says I can’t be a knight because I’m a girl”
She throws herself at Arthur, almost knocking him off his feet and buries her face in his strong thigh.
Arthur scoops his precious bundle up into his arms and plants kisses on her face, trying to placate her.
“Lancelot” he says “play nicely, let your sister play with the sword. Just because she is a girl doesn’t mean she can’t use a sword, your mother is a fine swordswoman.
Lancelot gives a frown of disapproval.
“Your mother was a demon with the sword when she was younger, she was a warrior” he looks at Gwen smiling and winking. Gwen gives a gentle laugh, reminiscing, as she nurses their youngest child at her breast.
The nursemaid came scuttling into the bedchamber after the children.
“I’m sorry Sire, My Lady, they escaped me, they run so fast”
“It’s alright, let them stay here for a while, we are not busy”
The nursemaid leaves the bedchamber and Arthur sits in the chair beside the window, holding his sobbing daughter. As he lifts her head, brushing away a single curl from her eyes, he can’t help but be amazed at her blue eyes, the same colour as his own. His heart is filled to bursting just looking at her, she is so much like her mother, they both are, with their golden curls, the colour of autumn gold and a hint of a tan in their skin, like the glow the sun throws over the land at sunset.
Lancelot is still frowning and folds his arms in defiance.
“Come here” says Arthur to his son.
Lancelot walks slowly to his father, head down, still frowning.
“Let your sister play, play nicely, let her have a go or I shall make her her own wooden sword”
“As long as you don’t make hers bigger than mine” says Lancelot, looking a little more cheerful.
Gwen smiles over at them, the baby has finished feeding and is content and sleeping soundly in her arms. She places him in the crib beside the bed and rocks it gently whilst humming quietly.
“Shhh now children” she says “the baby is asleep so you’ll have to talk quietly”
Lancelot tiptoes quickly over to his mother and launches himself at her, throwing his arms around her neck and kissing her on the cheek.
Ygraine remains in her father’s arms, the father she worships and who worships her.
Arthur looks admiringly at his young son, now 3½ years old and looking like a young warrior knight, dressed in his play-clothes of red cloak and paper crown and carrying his wooden sword triumphantly.
His daughter looks like a little princess, with her beautiful embroidered cotton dress embroidered by her mother and little soft leather shoes, her curls tumbling down her back.
You couldn’t tell the children apart, except for the length of their hair, they were the spitting image of each other. Both had the longest of lashes and the sweetest smiles, just like their mother.
***
He remembered when the twins were born, his heart had filled with such joy and pride that he felt it would burst. Guinevere had had a difficult labour, especially carrying twins and he had paced up and down outside the bedchamber wringing his hands in despair, knowing there was nothing he could do to ease her pain. It almost brought tears to his eyes thinking of his Guinevere suffering so and he felt responsible for her suffering.
Eventually, when her cries had subsided, to be replaced by the sound of babies crying, he brightened up and pulled his shoulders back. The midwife came out to him, sleeves rolled up, and ushered him into the room.
His Guinevere was resting against the pillows, looking tired but still beautiful as she held two tiny bundles in her arms.
He strode forward, beaming like a Cheshire cat, eyes sparkling as he reached out. One bundle was placed in his arms as he kissed his beloved gently on the lips. Her eyes were tired but she was glowing. He could see she was still in some pain and he stroked her cheek as she announced “a boy and a girl Arthur, we have been truly blessed”.
That day had been the best day of his life, after the wedding day of course, his chest was puffed up almost to bursting at the sight those two perfect little beings sleeping in his arms.
The other bundle was placed in his arms so he was holding one on each side. He gazed down at them and couldn’t help shedding a tear, which he quickly shook away, pretending that he had dust in his eye. Guinevere looked at him standing there proudly in his red Pendragon cape, the sunlight streaming through the window onto his manly form, holding the product of his loins, not one, but two little Pendragons.
Because of the pain he had seen her go through bringing his beloved twins into the world, he hesitated when a few years later she had talked of having another child. Of course he enjoyed the coupling that produced the child, so much fun was had as he made love to his wife, but the thought of her labour pains would occasionally come into his mind. Women were such wondrous creatures, undergoing pain to bring forth another human into the world, they were as courageous as any of his knights, Guinevere the most courageous of them all.
He conceded and went into it with great gusto, looking forward to their bedchamber fun every night, rushing home after a day of fighting or training with his knights, the anticipation was almost too much, he couldn’t concentrate on his training. The figure of his Guinevere was always in his mind until his knight would say “Sire, are you alright”. “Oh yes, fine, just thinking” he would say whilst a smile crossed his face and he thought of what lay ahead later that night.
***
Now, he felt so complete, with his little family around him. Ygraine looked up at him with her dimpled cheeks, playing with his chin as she giggled then burying her face in his chest. The sun streamed through the large window into the room.
Lancelot was still lying against his mother on the bed, swishing his sword in the air but his eyes were slowly closing.
The baby was sound asleep in the crib.
There was a quietness in the room and the fragrance of freshly picked Lavender flowers filled the air. All was at peace.
Arthur thought to himself that life could not be any more perfect.
