The world seemed liminal as Guinevere pressed her fingers into the wood, she felt the groves move under her fingers, the mundane artistry, the familiarity of the wood grain. The passageway was ghost silent, only the distant clamour of the servants' rabble occasionally caressed her ears. She was unsure, she felt like a single spinning thread that had been turned, tumbled and stretched to breaking point. She had been singled out her whole life, the glow of her blood was her domestic torment and now would be her salvation.

The image of Nina fluttered into Guinevere's mind, she grappled with her image, collecting the memories of their childhoods. How did feeding the Chickens and the drawl of kneading bread had once seemed like a chore?

The door opened with a soft creek and Guinevere was bombarded by the glow of sunlight from the infirmary. The room was desolate, small cots with starched cotton sheets and neatly fluffed pillows lay on beds which sat like two lines of cottages facing each other. Large windows hovered over the beds along each wall and Guinevere noticed small brass figurines of Mother Mary which shimmered in the light. She padded forward and made it to the other end of the room where an archway stood and she stuck her head outside.

The smell of lavender and chamomile warmed her senses as she stepped out of the stone structure into a small garden. Guinevere stepped back a moment as she registered a man who was digging at the soil furiously as if it had insulted him. His long curly black hair was pulled back into a low ponytail which fell to the middle of his back. Guinevere approached the man very slowly, her knees bent and loudly cleared her throat.

The man turned sharply and stared up at her dumbly, his hands caked in black earth. Cold silence sat in the garden as the man awkwardly made his way to his feet. His clothes were simple but well-made and tailored to his body and his black coat which had been laying beside him promptly found its way back to his shoulders.

The man cleared his throat and looked down, tucking his dirtied hands behind his back and flashing Guinevere a stiff courtly smile. "I apologise for getting in your way Miss, I was looking for some Chamomile flowers for some tea". He tucked himself in front of the flower bed like a scolded child trying to hide the mess he had made.

"What in good heavens have you done to my flower bed Clarence?" screeched a matronly voice and Guinevere whipped around to be faced with a severe-looking woman standing in the doorway. She was flushed red and her hands rested on her plump hips as she shooed the young man away from the scene of his crime to assess the damages. The flowers had been thoroughly trampled and the tall, dark-haired man who Guinevere now knew to be Clarence half walked, half ran away from the angry Head Physician.

"I apologise for the behaviour of his Grace," said the woman, turning to Guinevere with a soft but somewhat forced smile. She was short and stout with dark grey hair pulled under a white cloth cap and wore a long brown dress with a white pinned apron. "My name is Mrs Hale and I am the Head Physician here at the Red Keep I apologies for what you have witnessed" she tutted as Guinevere stood frozen, the alien scene setting into her senses slowly as she joined Mrs Hale back inside the infirmary.

"I understand that you have experience with healing?" she asked quizzically, plopping herself in a wicker chair and pointing to Guinevere to sit down on a wooden stool. Guinevere nodded slowly and sat down gently on the seat.

"You will be set to work under one of the other healers for a probational period until you have completed your three-month training course. You have also seen the kitchens, I am assuming, and also the herbal garden." she mussed and looked Guinevere up and down affectionally. "There is a free room up on the top floor if you go up the staircase on the right". Guinevere craned her neck to the side and saw a small spiral staircase which was hidden in the stone wall. "After you are finished cleaning up and getting your bearings, please return down here so that I can escort you to the Guards Training Grounds where the other women are," she said in a clear voice and turned her eyes back to the arch away and signed as she looked at her ruined flower bed.

"Thank Madame for taking me on as a trainee," Guinevere said softly, allowing herself a moment of catharsis as the friendly Physician shooed her up the stairs to get settled.

The room was small but airy and captured the soft rays. Guinevere plopped her travel pack onto the small bed which dipped slightly when she sat down. She allowed her body to flop backwards and allowed the last week to wash over her. Her new life was unpredictable but never the less she drew herself up and went about getting changed.

The room contained a small wardrobe in which she found three sets of clean clothes, some soap and other products. She smiled inwardly at the compassion of the people she had met during her flee to the Red Keep. She wrestled the long sword from her hip, her sides ached and she carefully placed it into the wardrobe behind the clothes. She rested her head against the door, the weight of that weapon had dragged her down throughout her journey and knew its owner still might come looking for her.

She pushed the Weeping Monk from her mind, choosing to focus on slipping out of her red smock and into a clean cotton smock that tied at the waist with a small leather cord. Once finished, she brushed her ruffled dark hair and tied it up into a professional up and went back downstairs to join Mrs Hale.

The Head Physician was sat in her Wicker chair, reading an older leather-bound book on medicinal herbs and looked up, the lines of age crinkling around her mouth. The old matron pulled herself from her seat and escorted her through the maze of corridors down to the Guards Wing.

"This is where you will spend most of your time, that is why the infirmary was so empty this morning," Mrs Hale said offhandedly and Guinevere smiled, her heart thudding with nerves. Truth be told, Guinevere was a proficient healer but she was used to ill children with colic and older people who had fallen, not stab wounds and severed limbs.

Mrs Hale led her to a large wooden door which was propped open. Guinevere could hear the sounds of chattering men and women, and the smell of ointment and steel.

"Girls" Mrs Hale called out and fifteen pairs of eyes turned on her. The women stopped talking and busily rushed around the tall stone room which was very similar to the infirmary. Guinevere smiled nervously, pulling at her fingertips to keep calm. "This is our new healer, Guinevere Archer who will be joining your ranks. Who would like to let her shadow you?". Guinevere emerged from the doorway into the light of the room, the women and soldiers stared at her. Men watched her quizzically as the young woman approached briskly with her head held high and held out her hand.

"Hello Guinevere, my name is Genya and I will be your tutor whilst you are here", Guinevere gently smiled at the beautiful young woman who had stepped up to help her. She felt like a baby lamb in a room of wolves as the people resumed talking, staring at her like fresh meat. Guinevere followed Genya quietly as she led her to a section of the room which had been cornered off with a makeshift curtain.

"This patient is a special case, on the King's request. I am aware that you are new but you are part of the castle now and need to learn quickly," said Genya in a matter-of-fact tone, her dark red curls were pinned out the way of her face. "He has suffered a severe head injury and has wounds along his back and chest. What should be done? " she asked, turning on her new tutee with a raised eyebrow.

"Distilled alcohol for cleaning the wounds, then wrap in bandages. For the pain you should administer some ground willow bark with rosemary for the pain, " Guinevere said quickly.

"Excellent" replied Genya brightly, her strict persona dropping, "I knew you would be a quick study, I just had a feeling."

However, when Genya slowly pulled backed the curtain, Guinevere went white with panic.