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chapter four
queen guinevere
I was
sparring with Gawain in the lists, tired, but exhilarated at the same time. I
had been in Camelot for a week now, and, while I was still not nearly a master
of the sword, or really even up to the standards of most of the other squires,
I felt I had improved, and Sir Gawain’s encouragement and assurance on that
matter gave me pride and belief in myself. I didn’t cry myself to sleep anymore
for which I was thankful. Though some nights, when I felt alone, I would take
my blankets and sleep across Gawain’s threshold like a favored servant. He had
never said anything about it, and I was grateful for that, and all the care he
had given me.
He had been
nothing but kind, though, as Arthur had told me, he was not afraid to work me
hard. Indeed, I had worked harder than ever I had in all my life in that first
week I was in Camelot. I started my day with Sir Gawain at the crack of dawn,
helping him into his armor, and finding him breakfast, before we would head out
to the lists so he could train with the other knights. Then he would either
take Fenna to the lists to train for upcoming tournaments, or he would take me
for a ride and teach me and my horse, Elith, combat maneuvers. Then came my
training with the sword, and by the time we were finished with that it was time
for supper. After supper, I left Sir Gawain to his own devices, most often
drinking and playing games with the other knights, and took his armor and
weapons into my own small room and cleaned, sharpened, and repaired them for
the next day when the cycle would repeat. It might be monotonous, but it was a
welcome monotony, that gave me a peace of mind I had not know for years, since
the news of Arthur’s rise to the throne had come to the remote mountain cabin
of Lady Morgan.
But I was
happy in Sir Gawain’s company, in fact, I had begun to think of him as
something of an older brother, for he treated me so, working me hard, often
jesting at my expense, but always there to offer encouragement with an easy
laugh. And I would not forget that he had been there when Sir Lancelot would
have given me a beating.
Lancelot
had not bothered me again at that time, though our first meeting was in no way
the only one we would have the pleasure of as will later be seen. Apart from
him, and Sir Percival who I trained with on occasion as well, I got to know the
other knights from Arthur’s inner circle, and marveled at the vast differences
in character the men had, but who came together as the best of brothers with
their love of Arthur and determination to serve him unto death.
There was
Bedivere first who was one of Arthur’s top knights among the others, having a
huge amount of loyalty and devotion to his king. I could see that they had
likely grown up training together for the friendship between them surpassed
duty. Then there was Sir Caradoc who had gained a crippling wound in one arm,
but still managed to fight well enough to defeat most of the fresher recruits
and would certainly never be the first to fall in battle. Among others were Sir
Tristan and more too numerous to mention in this tale but they were all brave
and all gallant and they loved their king above all else. Each day my desire to
be like them grew so that it drove me onward in my training to new levels.
That day,
though, Gawain and I were training by ourselves while the other knights were
having their own duels, looking as if they would run each other through, but I
had learned while watching them, that their training was something of a dance.
The swords flashed close to cutting, and sometimes did leave small nicks or
bruises that we squires would have to patch for our respective knights in the
evening, but no one was ever injured beyond laughing it off.
We had braked
shortly for a drink of water before going back into the fighting. We were using
staves for now, until I got a little better so neither of us would be hurt too
badly should an accident occur. Gawain had his hand on my elbow, lifting it
slightly as he shoved my feet apart with the toe of his boot.
“Your
footwork still needs a bit of coaxing,” he chuckled, kicking me fondly in the
ankle as he adjusted my feet. “That’s the hardest part, but once you get that
down, you’ll find your entire stance will improve drastically. So, let us just
practice the positions again until you get your feet in the right place. Up!”
I ran
through the stances as he called them out, both offences and defenses, and he
nodded approvingly as I tried to make sure my feet were in the appropriate
positions, and had to admit that I felt much more grounded with them farther
apart.
“Don’t get
into the habit of looking down to make sure your feet are in the right place,”
Gawain said, knocking my chin upward with a fist. “You’re not going to be able
to do that in a real battle. You have to feel
the stance, and know by the way your body is resting, that you are in the right
position.”
In the
middle of our practice, an excited flush went through the lists, and when I
looked up, I saw that King Arthur was striding out dressed for fighting, with
Queen Guinevere on his arm. I had not yet had the pleasure of seeing the Queen,
nor had I seen Arthur since the morning of my arrival. Business and affairs of
state had kept him in the castle, and I had not been there since being
appointed squire to Gawain, thus we had not met for a second time. As excited
and anxious as I was to see Arthur again, I couldn’t help my gaze sticking to
the Queen. As a boy, I had always thought Morgan la Fay the most beautiful
woman in the world—until I knew what hid behind that dark beauty—but Queen
Guinevere surpassed her by far. In grace, kindness, and golden beauty, she was
like the sun to Lady Morgan’s night. Her hair was golden red, and was plaited
into a tail that hung to her waist. Her eyes were green and lively when she
smiled as she was doing then, her hand tucked firmly into the crook of Arthur’s
arm. I loved her more than anyone then, with the adoring love of a boy who
would give his life for the chance of bleeding for a fair lady’s hand.
Everyone in
the lists stopped their fighting to bow, and I knew it was for Guinevere’s sake
rather than Arthur’s for he was like a brother to all these men, whereas she
was their Queen, and though every last man would die for Arthur gladly, she
held their fullest respect, even above him.
Arthur
stopped in front of Sir Gawain and I and I bowed my head in respect, but could
not help raising my eyes to look at Guinevere again. To my surprise, she was
looking back at me with a soft smile and I smiled shyly back with a slight
flush on my cheeks at being caught staring. I saw Merlin trailing behind them,
hanging back somewhat, watching his king, but leaning up against a rack of
lances nearby.
“Gawain,”
Arthur greeted his friend. “How does your new squire?”
“He’s still
learning his way around a sword in the lists, but he does well enough with the
polishing,” Gawain jested with a wink and friendly jostle to me.
“And does
he work you hard, Mordred?” Arthur asked me.
“He does,
my lord, have no fear,” I said, and Arthur laughed, turning to his Queen.
“This is
Mordred, my newest trainee, who wishes to become a knight,” he said to her and
her green eyes once again turned upon me as she held out her hand.
“Well met,
Mordred,” she said sweetly.
“Likewise,
my lady,” I replied, blushing again as I took her soft hand in mine and kissed
the fingertips.
“I look
forward to getting to know you better,” she said and I dare say my heart soared
so high at that moment that it felt as if it would go out my throat.
“And how is
your sword work, Mordred?” Arthur asked, turning back to me. “I would like to
see you perform.”
I felt
flustered, but I nodded. “As you wish, my lord.” I turned back to Gawain, but
realized that Arthur had commandeered his stave and was knocking it against my
own. He grinned at my befuddlement.
“Ah, young
Mordred, how do you think I choose my best and most trusty knights? I must test
them myself, to see if they are worthy of my trust.”
“He won’t
tell you,” Merlin drawled from his position several yards away. “But he’s the
best fighter here. So I hope Sir Gawain’s training doesn’t fail you, dear
Mordred.”
I was
somewhat anxious, but I had learned during my time with Lady Morgan not to let anxiety
show, so my outward appearance was calm and stilled, ready for Arthur’s attack.
I took a perfect stance, slightly crouched, and shifted my hands on the stave
in readiness.
Arthur’s
attack came without warning, and I just barely got my stave up in time to catch
it. The wood clacked together with such force that vibrations numbed me all the
way up to my shoulders. But after a few more forceful blows, I found my balance
again and was able to make a few strikes myself, causing Arthur to grin and
laugh happily. There was a furious flurry of blows between us, and I found
myself fighting just to block them in time, my hands almost jarring off the
stave with the force of the blows and so numb I could barely feel my fingers,
but a desperation born of self-preservation had welled up inside me and I just
managed to block all the blows before they did me any harm.
But that
wasn’t to last, for just when I thought I was getting up a good stride, Arthur
broke through all my defenses and cracked me on the shoulder, throwing me off
and nearly to my knees with the force of the blow, and then before I could
regain my balance, he had hooked a foot behind my knee and I was flat on my
back, all my air having escaped me in a wheezing whoosh. Arthur’s stave prodded
me in the middle of my chest as he stood over me, grinning.
“You’ll
need a bit of work yet, Mordred; mind your footwork. But I am impressed so far,
and I see great potential in you.” He reached down and gave me a hand up,
swinging my slight frame onto my feet again before clapping me on my shoulder.
Merlin
laughed and I looked over at him, slightly offended. “Don’t take offense, lad,”
the sorcerer said. “No one ever beats Arthur, not even his best men. You did
well—you just lasted a little over a minute. That’s an incredibly good start.”
I wondered
if he was jesting, but as usual with Merlin, it was impossible to tell his true
meaning. In any case, Arthur was grinning, though looked a bit self-conscious,
and I got the impression he didn’t like to be praised, and also that Merlin
liked to do it just to needle him.
“I think
Sir Gawain and I have run you hard enough for today, Mordred,” Arthur said,
tossing me the stave he had used as well. “I have been cooped in the palace for
a week with paperwork, and I need a good workout if I don’t want to go to fat.
But I have one more task for you, if you would kindly accept: Please escort
Queen Guinevere back to the palace for me?”
I was a bit
shocked, though delighted at the task entrusted to me. Both because of the obvious
fact that I would have the honor of escorting the beautiful queen, but also for
the fact that Arthur had trusted me enough to do so. That thought brought on a
sudden bout of melancholy that I had all but forgotten during the invigorating
fight. If only Arthur knew of how I came to be in Camelot, and of the lies I
told him, he would not be so ready to trust me with so much as emptying chamber
pots. I gave Guinevere my arm, shamefully aware of my perspiring state, and
started off back toward the castle.
We were
silent, I not knowing what to say, and plagued by my own dark thoughts that I
did not want to burden the queen with. However, those green eyes were very
perceptive, and she soon noted my sadness.
“What ails
you, Mordred? I thought you fought very well,” she said.
I smiled
back at her, but knew it didn’t reach my eyes. “It is not that, my lady. I am
not in the least ashamed of losing against my king, especially when I am still
trying my hand at the sword. It is just that I have many things on my mind, and
sometimes, they all seem to come crashing down.”
She
pondered this for a while before she spoke again. “I can tell there is
something that you fight against. A past that was less than happy? You need not
tell me, Mordred; I will not pry in your private affairs. But know that if you
ever need someone to talk to, I will always be there.”
I felt my
heart lift again, though my throat ached at the unsuspected kindness. This time
the smile I offered was genuine. “I will keep that in mind, my lady. I thank
you for your kindness.”
“Arthur
thinks much of you,” she said. “He said so when you first arrived. He sees
great potential in you, as do I now that I know you. He has a gift for that,
seeing into the hearts of men, and I believe Merlin thinks much of you as well,
in his own way.”
“He is
rather strange,” I said, then wondered if that was a little harsh and out of
place. But Guinevere laughed, putting me at my ease as I fought to rectify what
I had said.
“He is a
bit, but sorcerers often are. I have known him for years, since we were
children, and though strange he might be, there is never a man I would trust
more with my husband’s life. Their friendship is more than that of Arthur’s
knights, though he loves and revers them all; it is as strong as that of blood
brothers. So much so that sometimes I forget they are not.” She smiled again
and turned back to me, squeezing my arm gently. “One day you will become part
of our little family as well, Mordred. I have no doubt of it.”
I was
thankful that we had reached the palace and Queen Guinevere left me for the
company of her maidens, for her words had given me such pain and longing that I
feared I would weep in front of her. I bowed to her as quickly as propriety
would allow and made my retreat to the barracks, my eyes smarting.
There was
no way that I could murder Arthur even if I had previously wanted to. Not with
how much Guinevere loved him. I was beginning to love him as well, and I had
only met him twice, but there was something in me, that, despite the fact I
knew my story had all been lies, felt as if he really were my long lost father.
Perhaps because I had never known my own nor a male who was willing to play
that role. But putting that aside, I knew it would kill me if I were to break
Guinevere’s heart by killing him. There was no question in me anymore to the
fact, and as I reached my room, I drew my sword and knelt, swearing upon it to
forget Morgan la Fay and all she had told me and done to me, and what she would
do if I failed to bide by her wishes, and just live my life here in Camelot as
if I really were a squire and could be a normal young man and become a knight
to serve and protect King Arthur.
I knew that
it was all a dream, but it was a good dream nonetheless, and though I knew that
someday I would have to face reality and wake up from it, I would enjoy it
while it lasted.
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