by Alan Fenton
Looking at the upturned faces, Galahad could see that his words had made an impression on the Round Table. ‘If we succeed, as I am certain we shall, not by threats, or by the use of force, but by appealing to the essential goodness in our fellow men, then the love and goodwill we create will be like a cleansing wind or a searing fire that will leave the world a better place – as pure and innocent as it was before the fall of man. When that day comes, we shall truly see in our time peace on earth and goodwill to all men.’
Then Galahad reached out his arms as if to embrace every man and woman in the Great Hall of the Round Table and smiled a smile so beautiful that for one ecstatic moment it seemed that the Lord himself was standing before them. ‘When that day comes,’ he said, ‘we shall have found the Holy Grail.’ As he sat down, there was silence, a silence so deep that it was like a sentient, a living creature, filling the hall with its presence. And then, to the delight of Arthur and Lancelot, there was a burst of thunderous applause, members leaped from their seats, surrounded Galahad and thumped him on the back, offering their enthusiastic congratulations.
When the votes were counted, ninety-three members of the Round Table had voted in favour of Galahad’s proposal, and only twenty-five against it.
Proud as he was of his son, Lancelot was secretly sceptical about Mission Grail. Much as he would have liked to share Galahad’s messianic zeal, he could not. His instincts told him that it was not turning the other cheek that defeated terrorists, but advanced technology, highly motivated armed forces, and the ability to strike where and when you chose. What disturbed him most was that Arthur appeared to be enthused by the idea of Mission Grail. True, he had always been a man of conscience, but he was also a warrior. Once he had known when to extend the hand of friendship, and when to use the mailed fist. Not any more, it seemed.
Yet despite his concerns, Lancelot still desperately wanted to believe in his son. For most of his life he had stood apart from the crowd, aloof and proud. His affair with Guinevere had changed him, compelling him to acknowledge that he was as weak and fallible as other men; weaker in fact, since he had betrayed Arthur, the man who loved him as a son and had raised him to the highest rank in Camelot. Whatever his reservations about Mission Grail, therefore, he supported Galahad, in the hope that his son would become the man he had once aspired to be, and in the process, absolve him of his guilt.
Arthur was fired by a new sense of purpose. Though Operation Mainline may have been necessary, it had been harsh and bloody, and had made Camelot enemies. It was his hope that Mission Grail would make sense of all the killing and destruction. If it did, it would be the noblest of all Camelot’s enterprises. Merlin himself would have approved of it. It was to this point, Arthur believed, that his life had been leading him. Justice and order were noble aspirations, and righteous causes to fight for. But there came a time when the killing had to stop. George Bedivere was far from convinced. ‘All this talk about searching for man’s essential goodness is reminiscent of the flower power movement of the 1960s. “Make love not war” was a fine-sounding phrase. But what difference did it make?’
‘It might have made a great deal more difference if the world had taken those youngsters seriously,’ said Arthur.
Was Arthur going soft? George wondered ‘Do you really believe that Galahad will find the Holy Grail?’
‘I’m not sure what I believe,’ said Arthur. ‘One thing I’m certain of, though. No one has the right to stop him looking for it.’
Sixty
Mission Grail
As the time approached for the launch of Mission Grail, opinions in Camelot continued to polarise, the doves hoping Grail signalled the dawning of a new era, the hawks maintaining that the operation was ill-conceived. And not only Galahad’s reputation was at stake.
In the early hours of a spring day, Galahad and a few trusted aides were transported to their pre-selected destinations around the world, and for over a year, little was heard of them. It was agreed there would be no involvement of any kind by Command Control, not even surveillance.
From time to time there were reports in the world’s media of a mysterious and elusive philanthropic figure said to be donating large sums of money to worthy causes, though no one seemed to know who the phantom donor was. Here and there rumours erupted like flocks of startled birds; the philanthropist was a Russian oligarch, an American Internet billionaire, a Swiss banker, a reformed drug baron, the President of a third world country, a pop star, a prince. The amounts involved were said to be huge – millions, hundreds of millions, billions even.
Although there was a strict ban on any targeted surveillance of Galahad and his aides, Techforce Ten routinely monitored press, radio and television worldwide, and an increasing volume of coverage gave some clue to Galahad’s activities. ‘Journalists and newscasters are being more specific,’ Agravaine told Arthur. ‘They are talking about massive projects for new schools, hospitals and rehabilitation centres right across the globe.’
‘Any mention of Galahad?’
‘No, but it’s him. Here’s a quote from the Times of London.’ A twenty-first century messiah? Mystery Donor speaks of Peace on Earth. ‘Here’s one from CNN news.’ Could the multi- billionaire be a spiritual leader? ‘And look here, nuncle – here’s the clincher. It’s from the BBC World Service.’ Dark horse donor talks of Mission Grail and asks all people of goodwill, whatever their colour or creed, to join him in the search for man’s essential goodness. ‘What do you say to that, nuncle? Mission Grail. The search for man’s essential goodness. It’s got to be Galahad. He’s doing a fantastic job. I had my doubts about him, but I was wrong. He’s setting the world on fire.’
It was what Arthur was hoping for.
From many countries, rich and poor alike, thousands rushed to join what was now popularly known as Mission Grail, and a tide of optimism swept the world, silencing the doubters. In these difficult and dangerous times when people were starved of good news, Mission Grail was bringing hope to mankind. Politicians, religious leaders and businessmen were full of praise. A committee of show business personalities from thirty countries announced a forthcoming Grail Day on which, it was predicted, TV channels and radio stations would raise more money than had ever been contributed in the history of charitable ventures. In national forums, politicians made speeches in passionate support of Mission Grail, whilst at the United Nations General Assembly, representatives of almost every country on earth saluted the incredible generosity of the anonymous donor. People spoke of a new faith that was inclusive, embracing all nations, all colours and all creeds, a faith that appeared first as a tiny sapling, but had grown into a robustly healthy plant.
Arthur had never been happier. His belief in Galahad and in his own judgement had been vindicated, and Camelot’s moral authority reasserted.
Sixty One
Mission Grail
Eighteen months after the launch of Mission Grail Galahad returned to Camelot in triumph. As he entered the Great Hall, bible in hand, the members of the Round Table rose as one to greet him, the standing ovation lasting several minutes. At the end of it, Galahad made a short and modest speech, giving most of the credit for the success of Mission Grail to his aides. The most encouraging thing about the operation, he said, was the support he had received from ordinary men and women who believed, as he did, in man’s goodness, and who shared his vision of establishing the kingdom of heaven on earth.
At the request of the Round Table Agravaine submitted an analysis of how the drug barons’ funds had been spent, and though it was clearly impossible at this stage to account for every dollar, it appeared that in many countries projects involving new schools, hospitals, clinics and rehabilitation centres were either under construction or in an advanced planning stage, and that virtually all the funds were accounted for. It was agreed that after a few days well-earned rest, Galahad would return to duty in order to supervise the most important projects. Meanwhile, under the command of Lancelot and Gawain, Eclipse
and Kraken left Camelot with instructions to assemble a more detailed report on progress, thirty orbiting satellites and several hundred mini-robots joining the surveillance operations.
That same evening the US President was on screen to Arthur. ‘I don’t know how to tell you this, Arthur, except to give it to you straight.’ He waved a file. ‘According to this report the Drug Enforcement Administration have just given me, there are at least fifteen major drug barons operating in Bolivia, China, Colombia, India, Laos, Jamaica, Mexico, Nigeria, Ghana and Venezuela, amongst other countries.’
‘That’s impossible,’ said Arthur. ‘We killed or captured every major drug baron in the world.’
‘Maybe so, but according to the D.E.A. there’s a new generation of drug barons out there, and those guys are moving significant quantities of illegal drugs. The billion dollar question – where did they get the seed money to revive the drug trade? They’re financing farmers to grow crops, building warehouses, buying dedicated ships and aircraft, re-establishing supply routes, organising and paying militias and hiring lord knows how many sidekicks to do their dirty work. And let’s not forget the pay-offs to bring politicians and police back on board. That’s one hell of a lot of greenbacks we’re talking about. Where did all the cash come from?’
‘Crooked businessmen? Crooked banks?’ suggested Arthur. ‘Misappropriated taxes? Government loans?’
The President’s fingertips beat a drum roll on his Oval Office desk. ‘Not what I’m being told,’ he said.
In a few days, Techforce Ten had the answer. Arthur, Tich, Mordred and Agravaine sat at Galaxy’s big table monitor studying the incoming data. It made depressing reading. It now seemed that none of Mission Grail’s projects had actually been completed; worse still, that out of hundreds of planned projects, only three had begun construction – a half-finished school in Brazil, the foundations of a rehabilitation centre in Colombia, and the first two floors of a hospital in Nigeria. On all three projects work had ceased several weeks ago.
Arthur sat shaking his head in disbelief. ‘Then all that positive data brought back by Galahad . . . ?’
‘Was fantasy,’ said Mordred. ‘Galahad doesn’t lie,’ said Arthur.
‘He wasn’t lying,’ said Tich. ‘He believed that everything was going according to plan. He was shown impressive spreadsheets, architectural drawings, doctored photographs, you name it. I’ll bet they showed him a couple of buildings under construction and told him they needed the money in advance for all the rest. From what we can see, he handed out money like he was giving sweets to kids.’
‘We should have insisted on surveillance,’ said Tich. Seeing the guilty look on Arthur’s face, he tried to soften the blow. ‘It wasn’t just you, Arthur. We were all taken in.’
In the absence of Galahad, who had locked himself in his apartment, Lancelot faced a Round Table baying for his son’s blood, holding him responsible for financing a new generation of drug barons.
Embarrassed, Lancelot defended him. ‘I admit my son has been duped. The truth is, though, that he tried what none of us dared to do. He fought the forces of darkness, not with Excalibur, but with the only weapon he had – his belief in man’s goodness. He fought, and he lost, as many of us feared he would. But the failure of Mission Grail was not his failure. It was mankind’s.’
Despite Lancelot’s brave words, Mission Grail had changed the upbeat mood of Camelot to pessimism and soul-searching. There were those who felt that Arthur’s judgement was fallible. Some even questioned his right to lead Camelot. It was he, after all, who had sent Galahad on a wild goose chase, placing too great a burden on an inexperienced young man’s shoulders. Operation Mainline had claimed many lives; had they all been lost in vain?
A week later, at Arthur’s insistence, Galahad faced the Round Table. To a man, the hawks denounced him, accusing him of recklessness and naivety in squandering huge amounts of money that could and should have been used for the benefit of Camelot and the world. Though the doves were uneasy at the apparently disastrous outcome of Mission Grail, they found reasons to defend their champion.
Leo Grant spoke for them: ‘Galahad acted in good faith. He tried to do what he was asked to do, and we ought not to be blaming him for the failure of Mission Grail. Nor should we blame Arthur. If anyone is to blame, it is us, all of us. The Round Table sanctioned the operation, don’t let us forget that.’ His comments were cheered loudly by the doves, and booed equally loudly by the hawks.
Arthur waited for the Round Table to settle down. ‘I take full responsibility for Mission Grail, and unlike some of you, I do not see it as a total failure. One way or another the nations of the world are politically involved in the drug trade. The mistake we made was to involve ourselves in politics. Politics is a dirty business, some would say the dirtiest business of all. We should not have soiled our hands. But whatever we did, we did it in a just cause. No one can deny that.’
‘My emotions tell me you are right, father,’ said Mordred, ‘but my head is saying something else.’
‘And what is that?’ said Arthur.
‘That Camelot has lost face,’ said Mordred, ‘even amongst our most enthusiastic supporters.’
It was clear from the Round Table’s reaction that many agreed with him. Arthur was in two minds, torn between Galahad and Mordred. Mordred had a point; Mission Grail had failed in its objectives. Yet surely it could not be written off as a total failure? ‘At the very least,’ he said, ‘we have shown the world that force is not always the answer to solving its problems, that there is – that there has to be – another way. Camelot lit a candle, and the light of the candle flickered and died. But in its place another candle will be lit, and another and another and another, until all the dark places of the world are illuminated.’ Inspired by Arthur’s words, and stung by Mordred’s criticism, Galahad jumped to his feet. ‘Time will show,’ he asserted defiantly, ‘that Mission Grail was a complete success!’ Angered by the laughter that greeted this claim, he brandished his bible.
‘It is not for you to condemn me,’ he shouted.
‘Show some respect,’ said Gawain. ‘You are here to be judged by the Round Table.’
‘Only God has the right to judge me,’ cried Galahad. ‘It was He, not the Round Table, who instructed me to establish His kingdom on earth.’
Groans and jeers greeted this response. So loud and protracted was the clamour that Arthur was compelled to intervene. ‘Galahad has had the courage to appear before you. At least show him the courtesy of allowing him to speak his mind.’
When Galahad spoke again, his voice was calmer, his words more moderate. ‘I ask only that you have faith in Mission Grail, as I do. The money will be accounted for. The hospitals and schools, the rehabilitation centres and the clinics – they will all be built.’
‘What evidence is there of that?’ demanded Mordred.
Galahad brandished his bible. ‘This book is my evidence,’ he proclaimed. ‘On this bible men and women have sworn oaths, solemn oaths they dare not break, for fear of incurring God’s anger.’
‘Unfortunately,’ said Mordred, ‘oaths are all too often broken.’ He held up his own bible. ‘Even oaths sworn on this book.’
There was no doubt in Arthur’s mind that he had been damaged. In the eyes of his friends and colleagues he saw questions that had not been there before. It would take time to rebuild confidence in his leadership. Against all his natural instincts he had persuaded himself that Mission Grail would succeed. Was it because he truly believed in it? Or because he felt guilty for the innocents slaughtered in Operation Mainline? Never before had he allowed himself to consider the prospect of failure. Now he was all too aware of the widening divisions on the island. If he were to lose the support of the Round Table, what hope was there for Camelot?
Sixty Two
Whilst Mordred sipped coffee, Agravaine and Gaheris watched him uneasily, tense and upright in their chairs, their cups untouched. He was not the most sociable person in the w
orld, this being only the second or third time they had been invited to his apartment. Why were they here now? Could it be something to do with their mother’s death?
Observing his brothers’ nervousness, Mordred made no effort to reassure them, chatting amiably for several minutes about the weather and world news, about anything in fact but the subject that must be – as he well knew – uppermost in their minds. Finally he laid down his cup and came obliquely to the point.
‘I expect you are wondering why I asked you here.’
‘We were rather,’ said Agravaine, making a minuscule adjustment to the position of his cup and saucer so that it stood precisely in the centre of the coffee table.
‘We were,’ agreed Gaheris.
‘It’s because I need your help.’ Mordred leaned back, amused by the look of relief on his brothers’ faces.
‘You have only to ask,’ said Agravaine.
‘I imagine you know . . . dammit of course you know, everyone in Camelot does . . . ’ Mordred passed a hand across his brow. ‘I am referring to the affair Lancelot is conducting with my father’s wife.’ It was clear from the distaste in his voice that he could hardly bring himself to speak Guinevere’s name. ‘You know what’s going on, I take it?’
Agravaine was uncertain how to react. If he said no, he risked annoying his brother, and being branded a liar. If he said yes, and Mordred was only testing the waters, he might unwittingly be lending credence to gossip. He decided on compromise. ‘We have heard rumours,’ he responded cautiously, ‘haven’t we, Gaheris.’
Gaheris nodded his head vigorously, uncertain what he was agreeing to, but trusting his brother implicitly.
‘I assure you we are talking about more than rumours,’ said Mordred. ‘The head of Camelot’s armed forces is having an affair with Arthur’s wife.’