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chapter seventeen
a bond renewed
“I
guess this takes me out of the running tomorrow,” Gawain was saying with a sigh
as I hurried back to his tent, my chest aching from the exertion but I didn’t
have time to worry about it at the moment. Percival and Bedivere who were crowded
around Gawain’s cot, looked up at me as I hurried in, puffing and frantic.
“What’s wrong, lad?” Gawain asked
with a bemused smile. “It’s just a dislocated shoulder. I might not be able to
fight tomorrow, but I’ll be all right.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head.
“That’s not it, I know who the black knight is.”
“What do you mean?” Bedivere asked,
frowning.
“I had my suspicions so I went to
his tent and watched him take off his helmet,” I told them quickly in a hushed
voice. “It’s Lancelot.”
That got their attention. Gawain
clenched his fists in anger. “Where did he find the gall to come back here? I
should have known it was Lancelot. He was the only one I knew who was possibly
that good with a lance.”
“He’s obviously up to no good,” I
said. “And without Merlin here, we all need to make sure to keep a firm eye on
Arthur and especially Guinevere. And most of all, we can’t let him win
tomorrow. If he does, I’m sure he’ll try something. He’s back for revenge, and
I don’t think he’ll leave this time without Guinevere. He’s failed too many
times in the past, he’ll be more dangerous now than ever.”
“Someone needs to tell Arthur,”
Bedivere said firmly.
I nodded in agreement, knowing this
was one thing I could not keep from him, and though my stomach flipped as I
thought about it, I said, “I will do it. As soon as everyone is settled, I’ll
go see him before supper.”
Bedivere nodded. “Good. You did well,
Mordred. I don’t want to think what would happen if he had gone undetected.”
I didn’t either, and I was terribly
glad I had followed my instincts and went to see who the man was. I wasn’t
entirely surprised that Lancelot would prove to be so brazen. The thing that
worried me most was where he had gotten all the knightly finery. His armor was
almost as new and fine as my own which had been a gift from Arthur and
Guinevere upon my knighting. I didn’t know where he had acquired it if he was
still living out in the forest as an outlaw. It fit too well to be stolen from
some unfortunate.
I cast a glance behind my shoulder
to the tent flap, not wanting to have to go yet, but knowing there was no
reason to prolong it.
“I’ll go speak with Arthur now, I’ll
see you later at supper.” I went to retrieve Elith and I rode him back to the
castle, slipping into my rooms to change into clean clothes and wash my face
before I continued on, giving Arthur enough time to get settled back in the
castle.
A knot had formed in my belly at the
thought of talking to Arthur again. Shame, mixed with wanting of something that
could never be undone now, were battling inside with the need to make sure he
and Guinevere were safe; and because I cared deeply for them, despite
everything, and probably more so because of it, that won out and I nearly ran
to the castle before I lost my nerve.
I knocked on the door to Arthur’s
study, thinking he was most likely in there and was rewarded by his call to
enter. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open, slipping inside. I instantly
bowed and respectfully said, “Sire.”
He looked up at me wearily with a
wry expression, but he didn’t bother to correct me again. It made me somewhat
sad that he had given up so easily. He was sitting in his window seat with a
cup of wine, looking down into the courtyard, but he stood when I entered and
went to set the cup on his desk.
“Would you like a drink, Mordred?”
he asked, already pouring me one before I could refuse and handing it to me
with a kind smile. “You did very well today. It is not every knight who can say
that they were only one spot away from winning their first tournament. I think
you won yourself many admirers among the young ladies today. As well as the
older ones.” His eyes lit with that old merry glint and I couldn’t help but
smile back. Oh how I wished the only thing I had to worry about was a multitude
of ladies vying for my attention—how I wished I could enjoy it, but I already
had too many people I cared for caught up in this already and could not afford
the luxury.
Arthur motioned to my person. “You
took quite a fall, I hope you are well.”
“Just some bruises,” I told him. “My
armor will have to go to the smith’s however.”
“Well, at least we won’t have to
hammer you back out again,” he chuckled then seemed to remember something. “Did
you wish to speak with me about something, Mordred?”
“Yes,” I said grimly, putting my cup
on the desk as well. “There is a grave, pressing matter that I need to discuss
with you, my lord. It involves the black knight.”
“Yes, what about him?”
I colored slightly. “I assure you, I
only meant what was best for everyone, but I felt inclined to follow him back
to his tent and I…I watched him take off his helmet.”
“Mordred, that’s not very chivalrous
of you,” Arthur said disapprovingly, acting very much as my father again.
“Well, I’m glad I did it, chivalrous
or not, because it turns out that he is actually Lancelot,” I said quickly.
That got Arthur’s attention. He just
stared at me for a few minutes. “Lancelot.”
I nodded. “I’m afraid so, my lord. I
was suspicious during the joust. I knew Gawain had once told me that Lancelot
was the only other knight who could beat him in jousting. When the black knight
unseated Gawain, I knew I had to at least find out.”
Arthur was silent a moment, then he squeezed
my shoulder gently as he made his way to the door. “You did well, Mordred,
though in future, I would like you to show a little more respect for your
comrades. I must go notify the guard.”
“My lord, if I may,” I said,
stopping him. “I do not think he will try anything tonight. Whatever he has
planned it will be after the hand-to-hand fights tomorrow. We all know what he
wants. He wants Guinevere out of spite now, and revenge on you and I. We need
to make it so that I fight him tomorrow. I’ve fought him before, and I know he
is not the best swordsman; not nearly as good as he is at jousting. I have
trained hard since the last time we met, do you not think I would have a chance
against him?”
Arthur had his hand in his hair,
carding it worriedly. “Mordred, it’s not about your ability, it’s about his
determination. You know he’ll kill you given half the chance. He obviously
tried his best today, and would have succeeded if your armor had not been so
well crafted. I don’t know if I can let you take this risk.”
I felt genuine anger then, for my
own pride. “Would you be so reserved if it had been Gawain or Bedivere who
asked you?” I couldn’t help but say. “You have fought me yourself and said that
I was a fine swordsman; do you not think I could defeat Lancelot?”
“It’s not that,” he replied.
“Then let me do it!” I pleaded,
stepping closer to him. “I was the one who let him escape three times, it is on
my honor to stop him now with
everything I have. If you won’t let me do it then at least give me a reason!”
He reached out and gripped me by the
shoulders shaking me as he shouted, “Because you are my son and I don’t want to
lose you!”
The outburst shocked us both and he
just stood there, staring at me with his hands still gripped around my shoulders.
I slowly took his forearms and pulled his hands from me, knowing that I was
completely obliterating every wall of protection I had built up over the past
few months, but I decided I didn’t care either.
“Sire,” I began and then corrected
myself, adding more softly, “Father.” Arthur’s face was so full of mixed
feelings I could hardly look at it. “Do you forget that I care about you and
Guinevere as well? You and the knights are my family. I never had any before I
came here, and I would die a thousand times in the most painful ways to protect
you all and be happy I was allowed to sacrifice so much. Regrettably, I only
have one life to give, but if I give it and take Lancelot with me, then so be
it. However I do not think it will come to that. He likely still wants to
believe I am just a naïve boy who knows nothing about swordplay, but he will be
mistaken. Please let me do this one thing. I need to do this.”
He took a deep breath and finally
nodded. “Very well, Mordred. I believe in your ability to do this, though it
goes against my paternal instinct as well as my natural stubbornness for you to
fight my battles for me.”
“This has always been my battle,” I
said firmly, and was not sorry for it. “And you forget that while I might be
your son, I am also your knight, and that entails that I must fight for you and
die for you if the need arises. And I would think of it as nothing but an
honor.”
He reached out with a sad smile and
clapped a hand on the back of my neck. “You have grown much since you came
here, Mordred. I am so proud of you, my son.” And then for the first time in
months, I allowed him to pull me into an embrace. It was awkward at first for I
was surprised and we were, both of us, still shedding our past hurts, but I
leaned into him arms after a moment, letting go of everything I had promised
myself I wouldn’t do. I might have gone back on every promise I made myself for
my own good, but I left him happy. I knew I had probably opened the way for
more heartache in the future, but at that moment I didn’t care a bit. I felt
better than I had since I ran away, and I actually found myself smiling
involuntarily as I walked back to the barracks. I knew I was going to win the
fight tomorrow, and this time, I was going to get rid Lancelot once and for all.
Merlin had been right. Love always won out over hate in the end and made you
the stronger man.
If only I'd never read the end of all those books on King Arthur...
ReplyDeleteWarrior Poet
Bear it out, :)
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