house?”
He had made his point. To Leodegrance, his daughter was the most precious treasure in his keeping, and the table was a sacred trust. He was not prepared to relinquish either.
“You say that you wish to prevent such an occurrence, at least forestall it. What do you want us to do?” Leodegrance’s voice was hard in his effort to keep it steady. He disliked Merlin intensely at that moment.
“There are two alternatives. First, you could wrap Guinevere in long robes with her head covered like a Roman matron whenever she is out, and try to keep her inside and away from the guests whenever possible.”
“Ridiculous!” Guenlian shouted. “She would never understand such a thing and couldn’t be made to remember.”
“I agree,” Merlin nodded. “It would be illogical and entirely ineffectual. Her wrapping would only make her more provocative. The other choice is to send her away for the duration of the visit.”
“That would be no better! Guinevere has not spent a night away from us in her life. What would she think if we banished her from the house, especially with important guests expected?”
“Tell her whatever you think best. Let her know you don’t think the company appropriate companions for her, if you like. Assure her that it will be only for a few weeks. Anything. She needn’t go far. You could send her to Timon and Gaia. Tell her it’s for the good of her soul.” Merlin was reaching the end of his patience. “Make it a religious experience!”
They considered this suggestion as best they could. It was hard to decide so suddenly, when ten minutes before they had had no thought of ever letting their child out of their sight. It was clear that Merlin was right. She had to go before Arthur and his soldiers arrived.
It might be possible. Timon and Gaia were brother and sister who, twenty years before, had vowed poverty, chastity, and unity with all God’s creatures. They had removed themselves far into the forest and now lived alone, in a remarkably beautiful house that they had constructed themselves, with no knowledge of how to plan or build one. Through some lucky chance or divine intervention, the house resembled the woods around it. A stream tumbled by the door. They kept bees and chickens, collected the fruits and nuts of the forest, and occasionally bartered honey for flour. In short, they lived peacefully, as if the golden age of the world had never faded. Guinevere had never met them, but Leodegrance and Guenlian knew them well. Guenlian had once found refuge there at a time when no other hiding place was safe. They were sure they could trust their daughter to this pious pair without fear. Yes, Merlin was right. Guinevere would be sent on a retreat.
The room was still. Merlin knew they had decided. The only sound was Geraldus, impatiently trying to keep the chorus in time.
“One, two, three, FOUR!” he mumbled. “One, two, three, FOUR!! It’s not right yet. Try again, from the beginning.”
“How are they, tonight?” Merlin asked. He was another who accepted the singers without interpretation.
“I have a whole new batch of tenors. I have no idea where they came from,” Geraldus answered distractedly. “They don’t even know how to keep together. Then the basses and the altos want to start on polyphony. We’ve hardly gotten beyond a simple round and they want to harmonize!”
His voice trailed off into annoyed muttering as the music apparently started again.
“Geraldus!” Guenlian raised her voice to attract his attention, feeling slightly silly in the quiet room.
“Geraldus, dear. We would like to ask a favor of you.”
The saint pulled his attention back to them. “What? Certainly. Anything you like. Only please don’t ask me to preach. I never know what to say and all this racket makes it hard to keep from repeating myself.”
“Nothing of the kind,” Leodegrance assured him. “We would like you to undertake a commission for us. We want you to deliver