Grail Prince

by Nancy McKenzie

  “Because he loves her!” Galahad cried in spite of himself.

  Arthur sighed. “Yes, he loves her. What’s more, she loves him. I have known this for twenty years. How not? I love them both.”

  “That’s not what I mean!”

  “Ah,” Arthur said softly, “but it is. Perhaps you are too young to understand it. Galahad, we cannot choose whom we love. But we can choose how we act. All these years Lancelot has served me and worshiped Guinevere. All these years he has put Britain’s welfare, and ours, before his own. This is love. Had he been less than he is, he could have torn apart my kingdom. I could not have kept him from it. You think, you and all the gossipmongers, you think he has betrayed me behind my back. Then you must think me either blind or besotted.” The dark eyes flashed and Galahad’s throat went dry. “You are wrong. He is the last man on the face of the earth who would betray me.”

  Galahad swallowed. “He never loved my mother.”

  Arthur shrugged. “It happens. She ensnared him, else he would not have married. If he has harmed you in this, he is at fault. But he has done his best by you, Galahad. He brought you to Britain to be with him. He trained you.”

  “He did not take me when he left.”

  Arthur nearly smiled. “When I banished him? You were nine years old and full of righteous anger at the death of your friend. Would you have gone? All you wanted was to mourn Gareth and cast stones at your father. I remember that night well. Lancelot asked me, as he made ready to leave, if I would keep you and watch over you. You were always foremost in his thoughts.”

  Tears filled Galahad’s eyes and he wiped them angrily away. “He never thought about us. All he did was make my mother cry! My lord, he left us alone three seasons out of four! He wanted to be anywhere but with us. He loved the Queen more than my mother. He hurt her cruelly. He ruined her life.”

  Arthur listened sadly and watched his face. “So you were angry with Lancelot. I see that. But why did you mutilate the bandit?”

  Galahad looked away and clasped his hands together. “I don’t know. Something came over me, something dark and . . . and powerful. I couldn’t stop. It was like being swept away in a flood.”

  “Ah, yes,” said Arthur softly. “The same thing happened to your father the night he killed Gareth.”

  Galahad nodded weakly and slumped on the stool. “I guess so.”

  “In the right place, at the right time, such blind passion could make you a hero of war. But discipline is better.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Control that power that grips you, tame it and bend it to your will, and you will become a warrior of the first order. There will be nothing you can’t do. But without control you are little use to anyone. You know now, I hope, that it was a grave mistake to mutilate the bandit. We were sent from Kerrec to kill those men. Mutilation is a coward’s tool.”

  “I didn’t mean to do it. But he taunted me about the princess. About . . . about . . . about what it had been like . . . to do what he did.” His face flamed as the words stumbled out, and Arthur nodded slowly.

  “I see.” The King hesitated. “That was cruel. It made you angry?”

  Galahad flushed still deeper. “It made me want to pay him back in kind.”

  “Well,” Arthur said gently, “it was probably a tactic to provoke you and gain him some advantage. It is perhaps your very youth that made you prey to such a stratagem. Had you been older, had you lain once with a woman—”

  “No.” Galahad started up, unable to abide the stool. “I never will. I have taken an oath upon it.”

  Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Never is a long time.”

  “Nevertheless, I have sworn it. I am determined to be clean of my father’s sin.”

  “To love honorably is no sin.”

  “I don’t know if that is possible. Women are nothing but trouble.”

  “Sometimes they are. But it seems to me that nine times out of ten it is men who cause the trouble, because we value them so and guard them so jealously. And why do we value them? Women can be wise in ways beyond a man’s wisdom. All of them, Galahad, as different as they are, young or old, lovely or unsightly, highborn or low, virtuous or wicked, all of them understand love. It is in their souls, I believe. It is a great gift, and not to be discarded lightly. Don’t stand by your oath for the wrong reason.”

  Galahad realized he was standing while the King sat, and sank bank onto his stool. “ ‘Blessed is the man that endureth temptation, for when he is tried, he shall receive the crown of life.’ That is the better road for me, I think.”

  Arthur smiled and emptied his cup. “We will see. There is no shame in breaking an oath made in ignorance. Come to me in five years’ time and talk to me again about the virtues of abstinence.”

  Galahad colored. “I cannot change who I am, my lord.”

  “Nor are you set in plaster at the age of fourteen. You can grow and learn. You have in you the makings of a great man if you can keep mercy in your heart. You’ve all of Lancelot’s strengths: his skill with a sword, his quickness, his courage, his devotion to right, his idealistic soul, even his beauty. Be as like him as you can. Be such a man as that, Galahad, and you can have any future you want.” He flashed a quick smile. “Or any woman.”

  “My father didn’t get the woman he wanted!” Galahad flared, and then paled at his own temerity.

  Arthur looked at him gravely. “You’re wrong about that, too. There was a time when he could have had her. All he had to do was ask.” He rose suddenly. “The path to knowledge is a crooked one with many turnings. It is important to learn from mistakes. As you must do now. Are you ready to receive my judgment?”

  Galahad slid to his knees and formally bowed his head before the King. “Yes, my lord.”

  “Very well. Galahad of Lanascol, for your treatment of the bandit, whom it was your duty to kill, not to maim, I remove you as my personal guard. You disobeyed my orders. I cannot yet trust your sword. You will sleep with Percival and the other pages in their tent. Prince Mordred will give you your daily orders. You will obey him.” He paused. “Your other offenses are more serious. You have shamed your father, who is the most honorable man I know. You have insulted the High Queen, who has done nothing to harm you and whose honor I am sworn to defend. In insulting her you have insulted me. If you were older, I would fight you on a field of honor. But yours is a life I would not take willingly and I am glad you are too young. As it is, I should ban you from my service. It is what you deserve, but I am loath to take a weapon from my arsenal this close to war.”

  Galahad froze, pressing his palms together, a small sweat breaking on his brow. He looked up, eyes swimming, as the High King turned and walked beyond the lamp into the shadows, and stood, head bowed, hands clasped behind his back. He stayed so, statuelike in his stillness, for a long time. At last he sighed wearily, crossed himself, and turned. Quickly Galahad bowed his head again.

  The King came back into the light and stood above him. “I will keep you in my service because you are Lancelot’s son and I owe him my life many times over. And because there is nobility in you which I would rather honor than shame. You mean well. Where you err, I believe it is from ignorance, not intent. In time, your goodness will shine out with a clearer light.”

  Galahad fought back tears. His tunic was damp with sweat.

  “But although you will serve me,” Arthur continued gravely, “I cannot keep you near me. After the fighting is over, if we both live, I bind you to performance of a duty.”

  “Name it, lord; it shall be done!”

  “Do you know the tale of the great Magnus Maximus? Ancestor of Ambrosius?”

  “Yes, my lord. He was Emperor of Britain and your ancestor as well.”

  Arthur took a deep breath. “You will find, and bring to me, the rest of Maximus’s treasure. The Grail and the Spear that, along with Excalibur, Maximus took with him when he attacked the King of Rome. When he died, his lieutenant brought these treasures back to his wife in
Wales. The Sword she could not bear to look at, considering it the very cause of his ambition. So the lieutenant took it and hid it in a sacred stone, protected by gods, until I came to draw it forth. But she kept the Grail and Spear. Since her death they have disappeared, lost, known only in song. And since her death Britain has not been whole. With Excalibur and the help of Britain’s kings, we have kept the barbarian wolf from our throat. But the future is uncertain.” He spread his hands out in an inclusive gesture and then dropped them to his sides. “When we are dead, will those who follow be as strong? Legend holds that when all three lie together, Grail, Spear, and Sword, in the hands of her king, then will Britain be unconquerable for all eternity. This is all, Galahad, that is left for me to do. While Magnus Maximus held them, he was Emperor of Britain, and neither Gael nor Pict nor Saxon could conquer us.” Arthur paused. “The Lady Niniane tells me these treasures can be seen in dreams, from time to time, by men of virtue. But only someone with a stainless soul can find them. Perhaps you—”

  “My lord, I have seen them!” The words burst from the boy as he stared, glassy-eyed, at the King. “I saw them in a vision! In a red stone! Years ago! A shallow grail, and a long spear, haloed in light!”

  Arthur looked startled. “Indeed? Niniane believes these things lie in Britain. But that is all I know about them.”

  Galahad prostrated himself at the King’s feet. “My lord, I will do it! I will find them for you! You will be the greatest King the world has ever seen! You will hold Britain safe forever!”

  Arthur hesitated. “That’s in God’s hands,” he said gently, bending down to raise the boy. “We all do what we can for Britain. The rest is with God. Go now, Galahad, and get some sleep. You, too, have suffered much these past ten days. What we have said, we two together, will stay a confidence between us. I will share it with no one. You have my word.”

  “Thank you, my gracious lord.”

  “I will let you know when it is time to start this quest. Await my signal. Until then, obey Mordred.”

  “Yes, my lord. I will do it. Even that. I will do anything you command.”

  When Galahad had gone, Arthur stood looking at the space where he had been, his brow furrowed in a frown.

  “May God forgive me such a host of lies,” he whispered, “legends, myths, enchanters’ chatter—but something must be done about you. You are a bright and deadly weapon, but you have no grip on the truth. Mordred was right. For all our sakes I must send you away. I pray that in your seeking you will find the sustenance your spirit craves. Poor unhappy boy. If only you had kept a little mercy in your heart.”

  35

  THE LETTER

  Galahad lifted the wineskin from its stand above the flames and began to fill the waiting cups. Varric, the High King’s chamberlain, was abed with a fever and Arthur had asked Galahad to take Varric’s place at council.

  Gawaine, Bedwyr, Gereint, Galyn, Bors, and Mordred sat on skins around the low fire in the innermost chamber of the High King’s tent. Only Lancelot was missing—Lancelot who was out on patrol because Gawaine was in camp.

  “My lords,” Arthur began, when suddenly the skins parted behind him and Bryddon’s gruff voice interrupted.

  “A courier, my lord King. With a letter.”

  Arthur rose. “Let him enter.”

  Bryddon saluted smartly and stood aside as a young man pushed past him, still dusty from the road. He fell to his knees and kissed Arthur’s ring.

  “My lord King, I come from Camelot with an urgent letter from the Queen.” He drew from his tunic a scroll with the dragon seal.

  Arthur took it and said quickly, “Is she well? What is amiss?”

  “My lord, the Queen is well. I am charged with no message, but before I left the word went round that Constantine of Cornwall was on the move, and with troops.”

  The King’s face darkened as the men broke into angry murmurs. He thanked the courier and dismissed him. Then he sat upon his stool, broke the seal, and read. Everyone watched Arthur’s face. His grave expression seemed to freeze, then slowly harden into anger. He read it twice, and passed the scroll to Mordred.

  “I am a fool!” he snapped, running a hand through his hair. “I misjudged him. I have played into his hands and left her to face him. Alone and practically defenseless.”

  “No, my lord, not alone,” Mordred murmured. “She has troops. Handpicked and loyal to a man. And as you well know, her native wit is worth three of him any day. She is not defenseless.”

  Arthur shot him a swift look of appreciation, but shook his head. “No doubt he lied about the number he kept for Cornwall’s defense. She will be outnumbered. If they can’t take the fortress, they will sit down before it and cut it off from Britain. Either way, it is disaster. He will be king in all but name; he will do whatever he wills.”

  “I take it,” Gawaine cut in, “you are talking about Constantine, Uncle? What’s that black-hearted bastard done now?”

  Arthur began to pace. “Guinevere has had word from the Lady Niniane that Constantine is coming up from Cornwall unannounced, and with troops. When this message was sent he had not yet reached the border of the Summer Country and committed himself to treason. But clearly the Queen fears it and Niniane expects it.”

  “He sees his chance to regain his birthright,” Gawaine remarked bluntly. “With you and Mordred both away, he must think the kingdom is his for the taking.”

  Arthur scowled at his want of tact. Mordred rolled up the scroll and tucked it in his tunic.

  “He knows well it is not his birthright,” Arthur said flatly. “I made his father my heir only in default of an heir of my body. I was fourteen then, with no wife or family and the Saxon wars ahead. If he grew up expecting to be High King, he has fed upon false hopes. This he knows.” He stopped and faced them. “I must send one of you home with troops to safeguard the Queen or rescue her, depending upon what happens.”

  The chamber erupted with voices as every man among them volunteered. Their eagerness astonished Galahad. Did every man there really want to leave King Arthur’s side, and the prospect of the most glorious battlefield of his life, to sit home in Britain and guard the Queen? He withdrew to the darkest corner and watched the King.

  “I thank you, one and all, for your offers. I am sure any one of you could defeat Constantine, or hold Camelot against him. The Queen asks only for a loyal commander and a hundred men.” Arthur paused. “I will send Mordred with five hundred.”

  Mordred’s face lit and in his corner Galahad felt a weight lift from his shoulders.

  “Here are my reasons. First, he is my heir, and his presence in Camelot removes any excuse Constantine might put forward about protecting the Queen in my absence. Second, it is fitting that if Constantine attempts to usurp my power, the rightful heir to it should face him and deny him. Only Mordred, ruling as regent, can put an end to his ambition. Third”—and here his voice softened—“next to me and Lancelot, Mordred is the one she would like best to see. Let us not forget that whoever goes, stays. Now that Constantine has revealed the treason in his heart, Camelot will never be safe from him.” He looked around at the upturned faces. “Are you agreed? Has anyone a better plan?” But of course no one objected. Galahad wondered if any of them ever disagreed with Arthur, so accustomed had they all become to his good judgment and his wise rule. Twenty-six years he had been High King of Britain, and there was not a man who knew him who did not love him. Even Cerdic, the Saxon king, gave him such honor as it was in a Saxon to give.

  Mordred knelt before his father and kissed his ring. “My lord honors me with this commission. I promise faithfully to fulfill it and hold Britain safe and whole until you return.”

  Arthur raised him and embraced him. “I have not a doubt of it. You’d best begin the preparations. Send to the harbor to make ready your ships. Take good horsemen—you will have more need of cavalry than I. Later tonight, come to me. I will have a message for you to give her.”

  When Mordred left, Arthur s
ighed and took his seat. “Now, we must reconsider the Roman commander Hiberius and his request that we send him an embassy to negotiate terms of peace. Bedwyr, you will lead the negotiations in Mordred’s stead. Bors and Galyn go from Lanascol, Riderch and Oltair from Brittany, the three Franks Childebert has chosen, and from Britain, you, Gereint, and Gawaine.” He paused, his face hardening into his warrior’s expression. He looked at each of them in turn with eyes of metal. “Gawaine will lead the embassy.” He said it defiantly, but no one objected. “He is my kin. Hiberius will be insulted if the leader is not from the royal house of Britain. Hoel and Childebert send their sons.”

  Gawaine leaped to his feet and accepted the High King’s offer before it could be withdrawn. He proposed a toast to Arthur and swore his loyalty to all the King’s commands. Everyone raised a cup and drank. The talk turned general and Galahad made the rounds again and again with the wineskin.

  “You wait and see,” Gawaine said to Bedwyr as the gathering at length broke up. “Your reservations are unfounded. You keep them busy at the conference table and I’ll get a look at their numbers and their arms. Leave that to me. I can do anything but talk gibberish I don’t believe in.”

  “I worry more about your saying too much than too little.” Bedwyr grunted. “See you keep your tongue still until we are back in Kerrec.” With a swift bow, Bedwyr departed.

  Galahad bent over the Orkneyman’s empty cup. Gawaine grinned. “Well, young Galahad, you’ve certainly set the army by its ears. It seems I missed something by not coming with you into the Wild Forest. What’s all this I hear about your gelding a bandit and provoking poor Lancelot into a fury? Speak up. Cat got your tongue?” Galahad kept his eyes on the wine, but his face flamed. Gawaine leaned closer until Galahad could smell his dinner on his breath. “Is it true you two had words before the High King? I tell you now, boy, if you are ready to disavow your father, you’ll find a friend in me. I’ll stand by you. You know my reasons. You don’t have to tell me yours. Say the word when you are ready, and we’ll take an oath together to revenge ourselves upon him. What do you say? Eh? Think about it.”