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chapter six
pride
To my shame, Lancelot seemed to have slipped past all the
guards and gotten clean away. I felt depressed at this, and hated myself for
letting him go, though Guinevere insisted that it had not been my fault, and
she had not thought of keeping him around either. In any case, Arthur would be
home that evening, and once he was back, he would decide how to sort out the
problem with Lancelot.
I stayed
with the queen all that day, anxiously hoping that news would come of
Lancelot’s capture, but no word came, and all we could do was wait for Arthur.
He came
riding back with Gawain and the others, laughing and happy, with their kills
slung over saddles and the hounds yapping at the horses’ heels. It seemed they
had had a productive hunt. Both Guinevere and I went to meet the hunting party
and Arthur greeted his wife with a fond kiss.
“Ah, my
dear Guinevere, I trust young Mordred has taken good care of you in my
absence?” He then looked in my direction with a wide smile.
“He looked
after me very well indeed,” Guinevere said and Arthur caught the serious tone
of her voice.
“Guinevere,
is everything all right?” he asked.
“My lord,”
I stepped in. “Lancelot forced his way into the castle last night to get to
Queen Guinevere. I was forced to fight him off, and I am sorry to say he
escaped.”
Arthur’s
countenance went from worried to angry, his blue eyes flashing as cold as ice.
“That man has finished his days as one of my knights. Fear not, Mordred, we
will find him and kill him. Gawain, Bedivere! Rest and eat then we’re off
again. We have another hunting to do. Merlin, you stay with Guinevere, please.”
The
sorcerer nodded and took the queen back into the castle.
“My lord,”
I called as Arthur strode off. “Please take me with you. It was I who allowed
him to escape.”
He turned
to me, looking me up and down before he nodded. “Very well, don your armor and
saddle your horse. I think you have earned the right.” He was about to go off
again when he turned around and faced me, putting a hand on my shoulder. “You
did well, Mordred. I will remember this when it comes time to consider you for
the knighthood.”
My heart
glowed, but there was no time to muse on that further, I had let the knave escape,
and I would help get him back if I could.
We rode out
and paired off, riding all through the town and the surrounding forest. I was
with Gawain and he coaxed the story out of me as we hunted, embarrassing me
with his praise.
“Only a
month in Camelot and already you have fought for the honor of the queen,” he
said with a grin, reaching over to punch me in the arm. I yelped, doubling over
and he watched in concern as I bit my lip, embarrassed at my impulsive outburst.
“You were
wounded?” Gawain asked. “How sore is it?”
“It is
little more than a scratch,” I told him, still swallowing the pain, but trying
to laugh it off. “The queen saw to it herself last night and said it would heal
well.”
“Let me
know if you get tired, and I mean that,” Gawain said sternly. “No false
bravery. Wounds like that can trick you, and I don’t want you overworking
yourself and getting a fever.”
“That’s
something coming from you,” I jested, causing him to laugh. “I never thought
I’d hear the words ‘don’t overwork yourself’ come out of your mouth.”
“Cheeky
little blighter,” he chuckled.
We rode for
hours, until it got dark and then we met up in a place Arthur had chosen before
we parted, but none had found anything that told of where Lancelot and his two
companions might have gone. I was exhausted by then, saddle weary, and, though
I wouldn’t tell Gawain, my wound was aching and I could feel a slight
stickiness of blood that had seeped through my bandage.
“We can’t
see anything more tonight, sire,” Sir Bedivere said kindly. “I think it best to
resume the hunt tomorrow; perhaps we can ask around the town first and see if
anyone might have seen him, or has any knowledge of where he went. He might
even have gone to ground somewhere, waiting for the opportunity to run when no
one was looking.”
“No one was
looking last night,” I said off-hand, thinking back to how I couldn’t seem to
find a guard ready at hand.
“What do
you mean, Mordred?” Arthur asked me, his voice sounding as tired as I felt.
“I don’t
know if it means anything, my lord,” I said self-consciously. “But last night
when I had to fight off Lancelot, it took me a while to track down a guard to
explain what had happened. There didn’t seem to be any around.”
Arthur was
silent, then he turned to the others. “Very well, it sounds like I have some
inquiries to make. Let us head homeward.”
We rode
swiftly back to the town, and once there, I helped the knights make inquiries
into the guards and the knights who had been on duty. We found out that
Lancelot’s companions, Arnulf and Raymond, had been the ones on guard duty, so
it would have been easy enough for them to let Lancelot slip past, and perhaps
even lie to several of the guards that they or someone else was taking over
their posting. We were all gathered in Arthur’s solar, and he was sitting back
in his chair with one hand pinching the bridge of his nose as if he had a
headache. Merlin with sitting on the edge of his desk, playing with the flame
of one of the candles, making it change shape and float.
“Could you
find him by magic, Merlin?” Arthur asked after a while.
“You know
the way of those things,” Merlin said, not unkindly. “I can find him, but finding out where he is, is another matter entirely.
I’m sorry, Arthur.”
“I don’t
think you need to worry too much, my lord,” I spoke up quietly and everyone
turned to look at me. “When I fought Lancelot I called him a coward, and he
swore to meet me again. I think there is enough hate in him to do so. If I stay
here, I believe he will show up eventually.”
Arthur
considered it. “It is possible. He is not a man to give up. After all, he
didn’t give up on Guinevere, nor may he ever. You are right, Mordred, it is
very likely that he may show up again of his own accord to cause more problems.
But it can be assured that he will be dangerous for he knows I will be out for his blood; we must all be on our guard.” He stood up then. “Now
please, my friends, get some rest. We can enquire in the town tomorrow, but for
now, we have had a very long day.” He turned to me. “Mordred, please stay a
moment.”
I watched
the knights leave and soon it was only Arthur, Merlin and I in the room. Arthur
turned back to me and offered a tired smile.
“I just
wanted to, again, offer you my deepest gratitude, Mordred. It is assured that I
never expected something like that to happen, though had I known, I would have
left you in charge of my queen all the same. But I find it a real testament to
your character, and the kind of man, and knight you will be one day. I am very
proud of you.”
“Thank you,
my lord,” I said, and flushed deeply with pride. I saw Merlin smiling in my
direction and for some reason was even more pleased at that. “But I was only
doing my duty; just what you asked me.”
“I think
you would have done it anyway, whether I had asked you or not,” Arthur replied,
then frowned as he looked me over. “Is that blood?”
I glanced
down at my sleeve and saw that my wound had bled through it. I sighed. “Yes, my
lord. I fear the riding aggravated it…”
“Sit down,
I did not know you were wounded,” Arthur insisted, sounding a bit worried. I
dutifully sat in his own chair and let him help me off with my tunic so he
could see the wound. I tried not to wince as he pulled the blood-crusted
bandages off, but they were sticking to the wound and it was a painful
experience to my already exhausted body.
“This is
deep,” Arthur observed with a frown, holding my arm gently as he inspected the
wound. I noticed a couple of the stitches had torn, which had caused it to
start bleeding again. “Thankfully, it’s not inflamed, but we should wash it
again just to make sure. Merlin, fetch some strong drink and fresh bandages.”
Merlin left
for the items, and Arthur continued to examine the wound before looking up at
me, from where he knelt by my side, putting a hand on my knee.
“I want you
to know, Mordred that I am very proud to be able to call you my son, even if no
one else can know. Perhaps some day, they shall. At the very least, I want you
to think of me as a father,” he smiled gently. “I know little of being a father,
for mine never had much time for me, but know that I will always be there if
you need me, Mordred. And if you ever have any grief, come to me. I will always
be there to listen.”
Oh how I
wanted to spill out my whole story then, almost to the breaking point with his
kind words, coupled by my exhaustion and the pain of my wound, but Merlin
reappeared then, and set the items down on the desk. He put a hand on my
shoulder as Arthur took up the bottle of liquor and poured it onto a scrap of
linen.
“This will
sting,” the sorcerer warned and held me in place as Arthur cleaned out the
wound. I clenched my teeth, determined not to make a noise, but still a slight
groan escaped me, though I prided myself in the fact that it was manlier than a
whimper.
He finished
soon enough, and Merlin reached over me to lay a hand against the wound,
speaking several words in the language of sorcerers.
“That was a
guard against infection,” he said as he stepped away. “Can’t have you dropping
off on us.”
Arthur
wrapped a clean bandage around my arm, and I was finally released from their
care. “Go sleep for the rest of the night, Mordred,” Arthur said kindly, and I
could see he was weary himself. “We will start early in the morning. I will
need you to help us make inquiries in town.”
“Of course,
my lord. Good night,” I replied as I turned to leave.
“Sleep
well, lad,” Arthur said gently, and I smiled to myself as a warmth spread
through me. And this time, I spared not a thought for Morgan la Fay and her plans
for me; I simply reveled in the joy of knowing what it felt like to have a
father.
©Copyright 2014 by Hazel B West
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