Welcome to Camelot

by Cleaver, Tony

  “Look at this!” said one guard. “Hast thou ever seen anything like it?”

  “’Twas a dragon. Only a dragon could do all this,” claimed another.

  “I saw it a long way away. It was breathing fire in the distance over the mountains there,” replied the first guard. “Then it attacked us!”

  Merlyn nodded. “The heat and noise was tremendous, certainly,” he agreed.

  One of the squires spoke next. “I was up here and my sword started to glow in a blue light. And it made a sort of buzzing sound! The most amazing thing you ever saw! Some evil magic was certainly about. I threw it down and ran…and thank God I did because next the dragon blasted us all with his fiery breath!”

  “Aye!” cried one of the guards. “I saw all that! Thy sword, even the armour and thy helmet started to glow. Awful! Terrible! Thou werst being possessed by evil! I ran away from thee and down the stairs as fast as I could. But thee…thou escapest just in time before the dragon struck…”

  Gwen began to lose patience with all this nonsense. “This was a lightning strike – what are you talking about? There’re no such things as dragons!”

  A grim silence followed this remark. Gwen realised she was challenging a popular superstition so she thought she’d better back it up.

  “I recognise some of you from last night, during the storm. We all saw the same, didn’t we – lots of lightning and thunder, right? There was no dragon attacking us!”

  “Aye, milady, but where did the thunder and lightning come from?” one of the knights, Sir Gareth, politely spoke up. “Such evil power as to do all this. It was a dragon. We all know that!”

  Gwen was aghast at the primitive fears and beliefs of these people. “But lightning comes from the clouds…it’s…it’s a massive electric shock.” She realised she did not know how it all worked. Did clouds discharge their electricity by bumping into high buildings? She couldn’t explain it, other than she knew that dragons didn’t produce it. Dragons did not exist!

  The men around her smiled at her patronisingly. Sir Gareth spoke again, courteously as befitting a knight speaking to a lady.

  “Milady, clouds are delicate, translucent creations of air and water with no weight or power – just mists that float with the wind. I have ridden through them many times. There is no heat and fire and enormous power within them. Clouds, milady, cannot do this. But they can hide evil creatures that are intent on doing us harm. Look at what this dragon did!”

  “It was an electric shock that did this. Did anyone see a dragon?” Gwen was getting annoyed.

  “I saw no lecktrickshock. What sort of evil spirit is that? What does it look like?” said one man.

  “Was it hiding in the clouds?” asked another.

  “No…the shock, the lightning strike, is conjured from out of the clouds themselves. Not from some mythical beast,” Gwen repeated

  No one was convinced.

  “Milady, clouds are not evil spirits,” repeated Sir Gareth gently.

  One of the guards was less polite with this outspoken lady who was trespassing on his male-reserved territory.

  “If it sounds like a dragon; if it flies across the mountain tops like a dragon; if it spits fire, flames and fury like a dragon, then what is it? A unicorn? A cloud? A lectrickshock? Pah! Only someone who wants to lose his life goes out and tries to see it. What I want to know is – why did it come here? Who summoned it? Whose magic brought it here?”

  Merlyn spoke now. “None of us know the ways of dragons. None of us in Camelot know the dark, black minds of malevolent spirits. But we all know that evil is the enemy of the good. So long as Camelot stands proud against the forces of evil we will always need to maintain the strongest defences against such attacks that will, that must, continue against us.”

  The second knight present, Sir Kay, spoke next. “Merlyn speaks true. Now I say this: our King Arthur will in time summon a meeting of the Knights of the Round Table. He will want to discuss what happened here last night; how the damage can be repaired; how our defences can be strengthened; how perhaps we might go out and strike against the forces of evil rather than wait for the next attack. If any of thee have any knowledge of what transpired here thou shouldst tell the knight that commands thee so that he may address the Round Table. In the meantime, we must away now, and rest, and await his royal summons.”

  There was a general agreement to let this finish now. The company dispersed, although one or two of the guards who had been frightened out of their wits last night were not assuaged. One source of discontent was, as one continued to question under his breath as he walked away: “What brought that dragon here?” Another source of disquiet was a lady appearing in their midst, openly doubting their claims, overstepping her jurisdiction and intruding on theirs – unsettling, inexcusable, unladylike. Merlyn took all this in, descending the spiral staircase last of all with a serious, thoughtful expression.

  Gwen returned to her bedchamber and found it undisturbed. Kate had not been in to tidy it up in her absence. What on earth was going on with that girl? She went immediately to the small room next door to give her maid a good shaking. What she found was poor Kate burning with fever, buried under her bedclothes and given to shaking uncontrollably every few seconds. She was very ill indeed.

  “Oh bugger!” Gwen swore. Now what? She supposed she had better get Merlyn. Gwen left Kate where she was and started off bad-temperedly down to the ground floor to find the physician’s workshop. That was all she needed: her servant girl incapacitated and bed-ridden – who was going to run after her now, clean out the toilet and do all the chores that were necessary? She was bored, fed up and tired enough of Camelot already without Kate falling sick and being unable to do her duties. Why now? Why did Kate have to get ill now?

  Gwen found Merlyn hidden behind a whole battery of pots and utensils in his workshop, cooking up some foul-smelling concoction on a wooden bench.

  “Hi Merlyn!” she called out. “Can you come and see what’s the matter with Kate? She hasn’t moved out of her bed this morning and looks pretty sick to me…”

  Merlyn raised his head. “Another one? I am at this very moment preparing a medicament for Her Majesty the Queen who is feeling distinctly unwell. She tells me also that there are two of her ladies-in-waiting who appear to be sickening as well. And now Kate? Tell me, milady, of what malady doth she appear to be suffering?”

  “I don’t know! Perhaps it’s a cold or the flu? She’s been coughing and spluttering for a number of days now. Come and see for yourself!” Gwen was altogether too grumpy and annoyed with everything to do Merlyn’s job for him.

  “I will indeed come and see thy loyal and long-suffering young companion as soon as I have finished here. From what thou tellest me, all seem to be afflicted similarly. It indicates a sudden outbreak of some poisonous influence. Worrying!”

  Merlyn decanted some of the liquid he had been boiling up into a small goblet. He crushed some mint leaves into it and stirred it all with a wooden spoon. “Come!” he said to Gwen. “I’ll quickly go with thee before I take this to the queen.”

  A few moments later he entered the room where Kate lay; he knelt down beside her and gently raised her into a sitting position. She whimpered as he felt her forehead.

  “So cold!” she complained weakly. “I’m so cold.”

  “Thou shouldst have come to me before, dear Kate,” scolded Merlyn. “Thy fever would not appear so strong now without some earlier symptoms. What hast thou suffered these last few days? Tell me.”

  “I have been coughing and sneezing, and my throat hurts, and now I am so tired and everything aches…”

  “Sounds like the flu to me!” snorted Gwen, who had been standing behind, watching Merlyn at work. She had little patience with people who were not well.

  “The Flew?” Merlyn grimaced. Here was yet another occasion where this new Lady Gwendolyn seemed to know it all. He fought down his reaction to ignore this offending manner she persisted in maintaining. He was
an old, experienced physician and weaver of supposedly magic spells, but he still prized his capacity to learn from even the most unlikely of sources. This awkward, contrary young woman who possessed the unique capacity to discomfort others was certainly an unlikely source.

  “And what course, pray, do you expect this illness to run?”

  “Dunno, Merlyn. It looks a bad dose to me. Last time I had something like that was a year ago, in the winter. I stayed in bed for a week and my mother gave me plenty of liquid to drink. I had honey or something like it for my sore throat. I felt bloody awful but it went away in the end.”

  Merlyn raised his eyes heavenward. Lady Gwendolyn’s mother had died over a dozen years ago, so he did not know what she was talking about. But he now recognised that that was normal. Nobody in Camelot knew what she was talking about half the time. But there was, as before, a glimmer of something useful in all the smoke and confusion that came out of her mouth. “Kate,” Merlyn asked, “hast thy body lost much liquid? Hast thy nose been flowing freely?”

  Kate nodded.

  “Thou shouldst rest. Drink this warming fluid that I have prepared for the queen. I will take her another. Thou shouldst stay in bed and we will find someone to care for thee. Thou hast taken aboard some evil influence but with love, care and attention we shall overcome that which has invaded thy body and make thee better. Now, keep warm!”

  Merlyn helped Kate drink the concoction in the goblet he proffered, then he laid her back down and pulled the blankets and a woollen sheepskin over her to stop her shivering.

  He kissed Kate’s cheek, stood up and signalled to Gwen to come with him outside.

  “Milady,” he confided in her outside the door, “I must go straight-way to see the queen and deliver to her much the same medicine…but thou must understand that, given the destruction caused in the storm, and now this illness of a number of people in the castle, every servant and attendant in Camelot has much to do. So who canst care for Kate on a regular basis? Only thee. Care for her, milady, in the same manner that she has cared for thee. That is thy duty now.” Mervyn stared pointedly into Gwen’s eyes.

  “Oh shit!” responded Gwen. “Shit, shit, shit! Can’t you find someone, somewhere to come and look after her. I can’t do it!” She was never cut out to be a nurse, it was the last thing she wanted to do.

  “Milady, thy young ward has devoted her life to thee. Does she not deserve some little effort on thy part to repay her kindness with a little care and consideration of thine own? Thou must, if her illness is not to deteriorate. And consider: thou hast said thyself that thou knowest of this ailment that has stricken her. Thou art the only one who dost know this!”

  “No, Merlyn. I can’t! I really can’t!”

  “And if thou dost not care for her, and Kate’s condition is to worsen, who wilst serve thee in the future? None other, I can assure thee of that. None will pledge their lives for the new Lady Gwendolyn with this attitude thou hast shown all of recent. If thou canst perform this service for thine own devoted companion when she is in need of this most of all, then beware! Thine own future wilst be the poorer for it. I leave thee now to attend the queen. Thinkest on these things, my lady…”

  Merlyn disappeared on the errand of mercy to the queen that he had promised. Gwen was left alone. She went slowly back to her bedchamber and shut the door before she let out a shriek of annoyance, frustration and defiance at the whole world she was trapped in. She had no choice, she knew it. If she wanted Kate to run around after her again in the future then Gwen had to perform the same service for her maid now. She swore again.

  * * *

  A bell sounded. It was the castle bell to summon all knights to the Round Table. Everything stopped – all duties were put on hold. The only duty that remained was to ensure that all knights – within the castle or away outside – were informed that they should return to Camelot this instant. Within the hour the king would convene a meeting of his chosen counsellors and any that were absent must be excused by Royal Command or be accused of dishonouring the highest ideal of Camelot, and thus be stripped of their knighthood.

  Only knights were allowed to enter the Round Room. Not even the queen was allowed in. She, her most favoured ladies-in-waiting, and others by invitation could observe from the gallery, though a strict chivalric code prevented their participation in any of the discussion and decision-making that took place.

  And so, on the hour, twelve knights were seated around the Round Table: thirteen including the king himself: Sir Bedivere; Sir Blamore; Sir Bleoberis; Sir Bors; Sir Galahad; Sir Gareth; Sir Gawain; Sir Geoffrey; Sir Geraint; Sir Hector; Sir Kay; Sir Percival, the only one missing was Sir Lancelot – away on a quest with the permission of the king. The fourteenth present was Merlyn: not a knight, but his presence as counsellor to the king and the court was considered indispensable and he had been granted an especial right to attendance many years ago.

  The gallery was crowded as always. Although the queen and two of her ladies-in-waiting were absent, many others had begged permission to be present in their place. The king’s herald-in-chief, the Black Rod, had the power to decide who should receive that honour. Those he had chosen were the two squires of the senior knights, Sir Lancelot and Sir Bedivere.

  King Arthur opened the proceedings.

  “Fellow Knights of the Round Table: you are all welcome. We are come together because I believe we are all aware of what has recently threatened Camelot. Out task is to determine exactly how serious this evil is that threatens us, if indeed we decide that there is evil at our gates or even amongst us. Sir Bors has requested to speak first. As is our custom, there is no head to the Round Table. All are equal amongst us and all are entitled to speak – only that he who speaks must first be passed the Camelot mace. Sir Bors!”

  The ceremonial mace was handed round the table to Sir Bors, who grasped it and rose to his feet.

  “Fellow knights, at this moment there are several work parties being organised to repair the stonework that has been breached by the dragon’s attack. My squire has been appointed to lead those parties and to delegate the work amongst the castle staff. The head stonemason will be in charge of how the walls and tower will be rebuilt. There is much to be done. It will take several weeks for the work to be completed and the castle’s defences then returned to their original state. But my question is – is this enough?”

  Sir Gareth raised his hand to request the mace. He rose to speak – a large man, modest and rarely given to speak at the Round Table, so his desire to address his colleagues now drew instant attention.

  “My dear and honourable friends, you all know that I am content to let others speak for me at most of our meetings, but on this occasion I must confess there are matters afoot that sorely trouble me and it is thus incumbent upon myself to draw these matters to the attention of all. I am reluctant to say this…indeed it pains my very soul…but I fear there is a malevolent influence about us in Camelot that has caused not only the dragon’s attack but also – and far worse – this evil has caused an outbreak of some severe illness that is at this very moment weakening the health of our beloved queen and a number of her ladies-in-waiting!”

  Cries of horror greeted this remark. Several knights struck the table with their fists; one pushed back his chair and was about to draw his sword. An attack upon the ladies of Camelot was something all knights were sworn to repel, with their lives if necessary. Sir Gareth waited for the reaction to his remarks to subside before raising the mace to indicate he wished to continue.

  “Noble knights, we pledge ourselves each year at the Feast of Pentecost to serve Camelot and, amongst our other commitments, to never dishonour a lady of the court. Sir Kay, thou knowest mine own devotion to one lady of Camelot in particular so thou will know’st how much it tortures me to say this…but…but there is some evil spirit that has invaded the fair person of Lady Gwendolyn and – through her – is broadcasting its influence throughout this citadel. I have earlier mentioned my fears to K
ing Arthur and he instructs me to inform you all of this.”

  Horror was replaced by incredulity in the faces of all around the Table. Lady Gwendolyn was known to be the fairest, most honourable maiden and closest confidant of Queen Guinevere. Evil to be harboured within the most trusted lady and one so close to the seat of power within Camelot? How could this be? A storm of outrage and disbelief broke out amongst all those present.

  The king stood up and commanded silence. “Continue, Sir Gareth. Thou strikest at the very heart of Camelot. Explain this allegation thou makest!”

  “My king, my honourable fellow knights and colleagues, why do I speak thus? My fears were first awakened on the day after the fair Lady Gwendolyn rose from her fever to greet the return of the king and queen from the royal hunt. The language that emanated from her throat that day was not that of the fair maiden I knew she to be. Men and womenfolk of the castle kitchens later confirmed to me that her behaviour that day was somehow very different to what they had seen before. No matter! Such eccentricities can be explained away by the after-effects of the noxious fever that had consumed her for three days. Our noble and trusted physician, Merlyn, warned us of this. But…but what has transpired since? The assault of an evil dragon that has breached our outer defences and, worse, the outbreak of some foul plague that has attacked us from within and has brought down some of our most treasured and beloved ladyfolk – both these forces of evil can be traced to the same source!”

  Here Sir Gareth paused to draw breath. It had the desired effect on his colleagues: every eye around the table was riveted on his. Not a sound was uttered.

  “Let me begin with the dead of last night and the dragon’s attack – who came out straight-way at the height of the attack, attempting to ascend to the top of the keep? A lady! What was a lady attempting to do there? I believe, noble sires, that she came out to summon the dragon to her! And then again, this morning…Sir Kay, thou canst confirm what she said to those that assembled atop the keep this morning…”