Tale of an Artist

         A young woman sat in a red velvet-cushioned chair, slippered feet brushing against intricately set wooden floors.  Her thin fingers wove delicate sceneries across the blue silk formal gown; little girls with bouncing blonde curls frolicked in fields full of brightly colored flowers, and young maidens accepted golden gifts from their richly dressed courtiers.  The dress in its entirety would see no equal; tales of the young artist’s skills spread throughout the kingdom, but despite a demand for her masterpieces, she worked only for the royal family in Lunden.  However, she did not serve, a girl accustomed to bowing and scraping in their presence.  She had worked her way into the family’s heart, and regarded as one of their own, she now held as wealthy a position as the king’s own daughters.  The girl, Morwenna, once received suitors along with the eldest princess, and continued to receive as many once her closest friend and benefactor developed an engagement from a wealthy young man from Wales.

         Few of her suitors cared for her wealth, however.  The youth had unequaled beauty.  Rich brown hair fell in ringlets past her shoulders, framing a quaint face set with sapphire eyes that saw much and plush lips that spoke little.  Morwenna told nothing of her past, but many minds wandered, and stories spread throughout the kingdom, for she had not arrived in wealth.  Several years ago, a guard discovered the girl near the front gate of the royal castle; dirt had coated her face, and her faded cotton dress lay in shreds.

         Now, she sat with the eldest princess, Gwendolyn, who lay in the windowsill, gazing out through stained glass.  Her blonde hair twisted into a braid and fell to her waist, accented by a blue silk cotton dress.  The two waited on the arrival of Gwen’s betrothed, whom they would meet for the first time.  Gwen’s thoughts had returned to her friend’s little-known past, and she turned to her with curiosity.
         “Why did you come here?”

         The young beauty looked up, her face expressionless.  “I knew I could.”

         Her companion appeared thoughtful for a time, before speaking again, this time more softly.  “I have known you for several years, and you haven’t yet told me your story.  I have trusted you, and confided in you.  I have little time left here before I must move on to my husband’s home, and yet I lay uncertain that you will come along with me.  Now I beg you, my dearest friend, tell me of your past!”

         Morwenna paused, and then looked deeply into Gwendolyn’s fair eyes.  Laying a finger upon her bottom lip, she said, “I can trust you.  I wish for you to understand that I have kept hidden such information not out of distrust or dislike, but out of fear of my discovery.  Now I tell you, in confidence that you will disclose my tale.  Take not my past lightly.

         “A small castle near Salisbury knew my childhood.  I was the younger sister of two, the elder sister of three.  Two brothers surpassed me in age , and cherished me deeply.  One I rarely saw; he left for another household to begin training as a knight when I had but seven years.  The other, however, I would have trusted with my life.  He had a year upon my age, and as children, we would run through the fields in imaginary combat, or declare our rights to the ancient oak near our home as our castle, and we, the king and queen of a wealthy kingdom.
“My parents were as kind as one could begin to hope.  My father served as a kind older brother to the serfs that worked the land, few of them ever growing hungry.  To his children, he acted forever young, often stopping his work to see a new creation, or discovery.  My mother acted kindly, though spoke little.  I sometimes think she would have better served her time as a sister in the nearby abbey, but she always treated my siblings and me kindly.

“In addition to my parents and brothers, I had two younger sisters, whom I had surpassed with two and four years.  We were close in heart, and when I did not run about with my brother, my sisters and I would make crowns from the flowers and act like fairies, blessing our stone home with happiness and beauty.  Once we had gained years, we moved indoors, learning the skills required of a lady.  My sisters were quick to learn spinning, and I, embroidery, and together we created beautiful cloth of many kinds, which we in turn sold to wealthier families.

         “Our work often brought guests to our castle, and as I aged, lords and ladies of the land began to notice my tendency towards beauty.  One young heir, however, lavished his attention upon me.  The young man spent hours every day trying to lure me off to a corner, in which he promised not wealth, but eternal happiness.  He professed his immortal love for me, and in a matter of months’ time, I fell equally in love with him.  His family’s status, however, forbade a marriage between us, and so we planned to leave our wealth and happiness, and live together, sealing the binding contract of marriage between us, and strive together to create a family.

“For a month and twelve days he weaved his web of plans, until the details became solid.  At midnight, we would meet under the oak tree of my youth, and leave together, forever belonging to each other.  He promised me that his servants had prepared a home for us to live in for the rest of our lives, and never again would we find ourselves wanting in love.  So at the promised time, I snuck out of the place I had called home for fifteen years, to meet my love.  I arrived at midnight, and searched for him, but I could find him nowhere.  Four hours I waited for my love, but never did he leave his warm bed to leave with me.

“I knew then that his plans were false, but servants began to wake from their slumber, so I could never return.  Because of the young liar, I was forced from my home, never to return to my loving family.  I traveled for months, afraid that he would come after me, afraid that his plan had a more sinister twist than it had appeared.  Tales reached me of the generosity of your father, so I aimed my path towards your castle, hopeful that I could find a simple job in your abode.

“Your family has given me happiness beyond my dreams.  But never will I forget my family, and the cruelty of the young suitor that stole my youth.”

At the end of her tale, the beautiful Morwenna sat back in her chair, and for the first time her friend recognized the emotion that forever shadowed her face to be sadness.  A loud knock interrupted their silence, though, and the door swung open to reveal a servant girl, her body trembling with anxiety. “The young man is here, your Highness,” she announced, curtsying first towards Gwen, then Morwenna.
The two seventeen-year-olds rose, and followed their servant to the Throne Room, where the king held his audiences.  Gwendolyn sat next to her father, and next to her sat a smaller wooden chair, belonging to Morwenna.  It was then that the girl glanced at Gwen’s future husband, and noticed a familiar overconfidence in his stance.  The young man flashed a handsome smile towards his princess, then ran his eyes past, then back towards Morwenna, surprise scattering his thoughts.  She nodded her head at the Welsh bastard and rose, making a mental note as she strode off to inform the king of the dangers of such an arrangement.