by Liam Perrin
"I think they're having their portraits drawn," said Philip.
Philip said something else, but Thomas didn't catch it. Bane had just arrived with his father. They immediately began making their way from group to group, the Baron often forgetting – or purposefully neglecting – to introduce his son. Bane looked like he'd rather be anywhere else.
"How are you going to do it?" asked Philip.
"Do what?" said Thomas. "Oh," he added when Philip raised an eyebrow.
Philip offered, "If it were me, I'd march straight up to him and lay it all out at once. Arthur's a reasonable man, and a good king."
He popped a flower into his mouth and chewed.
"Philip," said Thomas. "Did you see the roast pig they have done up like a dragon?"
Philip raised his eyebrows.
"They've even got little knights made of cheese attacking it, and every so often, a little jet of flame shoots out of its mouth."
"You're jesting."
"It's over at the buffet."
"I've got to see that," said Philip and took off.
Thomas edged closer to Bane and the Baron, but as close as he dared get, he still couldn't make out any of their conversation. Bane shot a look at him, and that ended any hope of inconspicuous eavesdropping.
Thomas turned abruptly and nearly crashed into Philip returning from the buffet. He was carrying a knight-shaped piece of Wensleydale mounted on a tiny horse fashioned, somehow, from cranberries. "Check this out," he said.
Philip made the horse whinny.
"Very nice," said Thomas.
"You seem tense, Thomas."
"No kidding?" said Thomas and rolled his eyes.
"Oh dear," said Philip. "Look at that."
The wedding party had arrived.
§
In the history of weddings, there have been only two perfect brides. Guinevere wasn't one of them, but she could've been a third if the judging had been just the tiniest bit more accommodating.
She glowed. Arthur beamed. The Queen's Knights blinded people by reflecting the sun at them with their perfectly polished breastplates, and no one ever waited more exquisitely than Guinevere's Ladies in Waiting.
Thomas saw Chastity flash a smile at Philip, and Philip's face went bright pink. When the trumpet fanfare ceased and the applause faded, she made her way over.
"Whatcha got there Philip?"
"It's a... It's, um..."
"It's a cheesy knight," said Thomas.
Philip nodded. "Want one? There over–"
"I think I've already got one," said Chastity, and pulled him away through the crowd.
"Just keep him off ledges and high balconies," Thomas shouted after them. "And he doesn't take well to water..."
They completely ignored him.
There was a tap on his shoulder, and he turned to find a young woman looking at him with eyes that drove all thought right out of his head. Her hair was angelic. Her dress did things most clothes were too self-conscious to even consider, and her skin... While he couldn't see much, what he could see made him look back at her eyes and try not to think about it.
"Marie!" said Thomas, and it was clear that was about all he was going to be able to muster verbally for quite some time.
She smiled, and the orchestra began to play.
"Let's dance," she said.
§
Stark terror gave way to a simmering dread, which in turn fell to mild misgiving, and finally, a kind of uneasy acceptance as Thomas grew more comfortable dancing publicly, in front of people, while everyone watched. He tried to believe that the other wedding-goers were mostly paying attention to themselves and not him and Marie. Eventually he believed it. Time passed, they danced, and nothing terrible happened. Marie seemed to enjoy it immensely, and Thomas enjoyed her enjoying it.
The night was – Thomas had to admit to himself – rather nice. With everyone dressed as lavishly as they were and the music blanketing the whole, it felt magical – as if Father Time himself had shown up and decided things were special enough here and now to warrant the whole universe taking a rest. Being with Marie was probably part of it.
As they moved around the other dancers, Philip and Chastity spun by.
"Have you done it yet?" called Philip.
"Done what?" said Marie, smiling. "And more importantly, why have we stopped dancing?"
Thomas swallowed and spotted Arthur at the wine fountain. Arthur looked odd standing there. It took a moment for Thomas to realize it was the first time he'd ever seen him alone.
"I'm going to tell Arthur about Fogbottom and my brother," said Thomas.
"Oh!" said Marie. "Well, it's about time."
Thomas shot a look at her.
She raised her eyebrows, and then caught sight of Arthur herself.
"And look! There he is alone. Why are you still here?"
Thomas stammered, "I... But... We..." He took a breath. "I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation."
"Nonsense, you'll be fine," she said far too casually. "Go," she added, and she shoved him.
He frowned over his shoulder at her. In reply, she made a shooing motion and mouthed, "Now!"
King Arthur was sipping from his goblet and surveying the affair. He seemed as content a person there ever was. Thomas watched him watching Guinevere – Queen Guinevere now – for a moment, and then cleared his throat.
Arthur turned. "Sir Thomas," he paused with a mischievous grin, "...the Hesitant!" Arthur roared and slapped Thomas on the back. "See what I did there?"
Thomas bowed.
"My King," said Thomas.
"How doest the evening unfold for thee, my fortitudinous and stouthearted Less Valued Knight?"
Thomas stared, speechless.
Arthur kept a straight face for a second then bellowed a laugh. "I love talking like that. Merlin never lets me do it. He thinks I'm mocking him."
He sipped from his goblet and mumbled, "Come to think of it, maybe I am."
Thomas gave a nervous chuckle then tried to begin, "Your Majesty..."
Arthur seemed to be done entertaining himself for the moment. "Yes, Thomas?" he said.
"I have something to tell you, and something to ask, both of a bit of a sensitive nature."
Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Can it be spoken here?"
"Yes, I believe so, if done quickly."
"Well, out with it then." All bemusement was gone; Arthur waited on Thomas's words with such seriousness and sobriety Thomas found it a bit frightening. Thomas was suddenly very aware of the strength of the forces he could unleash with this one small conversation.
"As you know," said Thomas, "your servant the Baron Fogbottom rules my home, the village of Fogbottom."
Arthur nodded.
"For some time, the people of Fogbottom have been starving..."
"Yes, yes, there's a famine afoot if you haven't noticed," said Arthur.
"Of course, my Lord. But we believe, my brother and I, that the Baron has grain enough in his storehouses to feed the village yet he steadfastly refuses to do so."
Arthur shot a look past Thomas and quickly returned his gaze. There was a warning look in Arthur's expression, but Thomas dared not take his eyes off the King.
Thomas couldn't tell if the warning was for him or aimed at him. He decided all he could do was press on and have it all over with.
"To make matters worse," said Thomas, "we believe the Baron is up to something."
Arthur's expression remained unreadable, though his eyes searched Thomas's.
"We who?" was all he said.
Thomas was startled by the question. "Well, your majesty, myself and my brother William–"
A voice behind Thomas interrupted, "Your brother William is a rebel and a mug, and you'll do well to distance yourself from him young Farmer, as you have."
Thomas turned. It was the Baron.
"My King," said the Baron and bowed to Arthur.
"Baron Fogbottom," cried Arthur smiling. "Sir Thoma
s and I were just discussing how we're going to undo this curse the land is under."
"Oh were you?" The Baron shot a searching look at Thomas.
Arthur held up his goblet.
"The Grail. Of course," said the Baron looking relieved. "Has Merlin augured its location yet?" There was something condescending in the Baron's tone. To Thomas, he seemed far too comfortable in his manner with the King.
"In due time," said Arthur.
Guinevere appeared and attached herself to Arthur's arm. She whispered something in his ear, and Arthur smiled at her.
"I'm afraid I must take my leave, gentlemen. Baron, Thomas. Enjoy the evening," said Arthur and walked off with his bride.
Thomas's heart dropped so low at having lost his chance to petition for his brother that he didn't realize he'd been left alone with the Baron until it was too late.
"You'll do well, Farmer, to leave well enough alone. I don't know what your messing with here, playing at being a knight, tugging on Arthur's ear. But it will stop, or I warn you there will be consequences."
Thomas said nothing, and when he didn't avert his gaze, the Baron grinned. "Isn't your brother a guest of mine? Perhaps I should check on his accommodations... ensure that they are... adequate?"
Thomas bowed his head.
The Baron nodded. "Good," he said. "I'm glad we had this little chat, Farmer."
The Baron brushed past Thomas and disappeared into the crowd. Thomas stared at his feet and thought to himself that at least he'd gotten one thing right: this had all been a very bad idea.
Someone large stepped up next to him. Thomas looked up.
"Sir Marrok," said Thomas.
Marrok smiled but remained quiet. He nodded his head toward the Baron who was rejoining Bane in the crowd.
"Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer," he said.
Thomas watched the Baron mutter something to Bane. Both of them looked back at Thomas briefly.
"A quote from Sun Tzu, a Chinese General," said Marrok. "He also said, 'The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting.'"
"Is that what this is then?" said Thomas. "War?"
Marrok took a deep breath. "Can I give you a piece of advice, Sir Thomas?"
Thomas nodded. "Of course, Sir."
"All Men suffer. Those who do not master their pain will find themselves driven by it." He rubbed absently at the scar on his arm. He pointed at Bane who was being pulled to the edge of the crowd by his father.
"Find that one's pain, and you'll find his drive."
Marrok's eyes were sad, but he smiled at Thomas.
There was a hubbub near the reception entrance where the Baron and Bane were headed. Thomas craned his neck and caught sight of the reason for both the hubbub and the Fogbottoms' convergence toward it.
Morgan le Fay had arrived.
She was dressed completely in black, and carried a feathery eye-mask attached to a long wand so that she could don it or remove it with a simple flick of her wrist. With her were her usual escort – King Uriens and their son Owain – and one other.
"Accolon," said Thomas.
A hand rested on Thomas's shoulder, and Thomas turned to find Marie looking up at him.
"That didn't look like it went well at all," she said.
Thomas gripped her hand.
"No," he said, "it didn't."
"I'm sorry, Thomas."
Bane and his father had reached Morgan. Bane looked like he was going to be ill. There were some pleasantries exchanged, and then Morgan said something that made the whole group burst out in laughter that was unmistakably cruel. Bane looked stunned. He turned on his heal and made his way out of the reception, skirting tables, shoving chairs, and bumping people out of the way.
"Sir Marrok," said Thomas, "do you think..."
But Marrok had disappeared.
Thomas glared at the retreating Bane.
"Thomas?" said Marie.
"I need to talk to Bane."
Marie made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a gasp.
"What... Really?" she said when Thomas didn't respond.
"I think I know what his problem is."
"We all know what his problem is," said Marie with one raised eyebrow.
"No I mean, really, I think I can get him to help."
Marie's face contorted into a look of such skepticism that Thomas had to laugh.
"Seriously. I think he just needs what any of us needs."
"And that is?" said Marie in a voice that made it clear she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know.
"Respect," said Thomas.
"I have to go talk to him." Thomas couldn't stand still. Bane was about to disappear, but Thomas didn't want to leave Marie stranded at the wedding. Something in his gut that knew the little about girls that it did told him it would be a very, very bad idea to do so.
"Huh," said Marie. She looked impressed.
"Huh," she said again, searching Thomas's eyes.
She looked around the reception, glanced down at her dress, and shot a look at Chastity and Philip still whirling around amidst the other dancers.
Finally she shot a look back at Thomas and said, "What are you still doing here?"
Thomas blinked.
"Go!" she said, and shoved him again.
Thomas smiled at her.
"Now!" she said. She crossed her arms. "Before I change my mind."
Thomas went.
§
Thomas couldn't believe how hard it was to keep up with someone who didn't know he was being followed. Bane rounded a corner and Thomas hurried to keep him in sight. For a brief moment, he thought he'd lost Bane completely; then he saw a flash of Bane's cape entering the palace proper.
Thomas raced in and found an empty hall. He stopped and held his breath. With all of the normal palace-dwellers engaged in the festivities outside, the place was as quiet as a tomb. But there it was: footsteps, and then a heavy door opening and closing in the distance.
Thomas moved quickly down the hall and rounded a bend in the direction of the noise. He stopped at the first large door and listened.
"How dare they!"
It was Bane's voice, and it came from behind another set of enormous, iron-bound doors up ahead.
"The tables," whispered Thomas.
Thomas hesitated, wondering how to approach the situation and trying to figure out exactly what to say. Then a part of him he wasn't entirely familiar with decided to wing it, and he found himself throwing open the door and marching in without a plan.
Bane was pacing back and forth among the tables, but he froze when the doors opened.
"What are you doing here?" He was seething.
"I could ask the same of you, Bane," said Thomas in a strong voice that came from the same unfamiliar place that seemed to be making the decisions at the moment.
Bane was dangerous when he was calm, and here he was stalking around in a dark room in a rage. He glared at Thomas. Thomas was sure he was about to be leapt upon and pummeled mercilessly, but Bane suddenly turned his head and went back to pacing.
"I suppose you saw it all?" he said in a low voice.
"I saw enough."
"Then what do you want?" Bane stopped again. "Come to mock me like them? Come for paybacks? Take your shot, Farmer. Let's have it!"
All the frustration of the past few weeks swelled up in Thomas. He wanted to blame it all on Bane: William's imprisonment, his parent's wavering between complete lack of confidence and impossible expectations, Thomas's own lousy decision to put off a direct appeal to Arthur on his family's behalf so he could instead become a knight and try to save the world, and the carnival that was Camelot when he wanted, needed, expected so much more from his heroes.
In the midst of this storm of angry thought, Marrok's words softly but firmly spoke themselves. All men suffer...
"Master the pain," said Thomas under his breath.
"What?" Bane's fists were clenched.
Thomas sighed. All the an
ger washed out of him as quickly and effortlessly as a wave washing off the shore back into the ocean.
Thomas sat down.
"Bane, I know about Accolon. I know what you and your father planned, and I know your father betrayed you."
"You... What? How?"
"It doesn't matter. The important thing is that it doesn't have to keep going like this. You have choices, Bane. You could be a great knight." Thomas couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth.
"We all have to overcome these expectations people have of us," Thomas said.
Bane slumped in a chair and put his head in his hands. Thomas looked away and his eyes came to rest on the empty Round Table with its throne-like sieges.
Bane spoke from behind his hands. "You knew about Accolon, and you fought him anyway?"
"Well, no. No, I didn't know then. But I was pretty sure he was going to kick my butt."
Bane made a noise that could have been a laugh or a sob, and when he pulled his hands away, his face was red and his eyes looked exhausted.
"Why then? Why'd you do it?"
Thomas stared at the empty sieges and thought.
"Because as long as there's a chance, I've got to keep trying," he said. He turned to look at Bane who was calmly appraising Thomas.
"There's something else," said Thomas.
Bane's brow wrinkled slightly.
Thomas took a breath. "We know there's some sort of shipment leaving Fogbottom, and we suspect it's the village's grain."
Bane froze.
"Is it?" said Thomas.
Bane clenched his jaw, and instead of answering, stood up, made his way over to the scribe's corner and sat down at the small writing desk there. He lit a candle, pulled out some parchment and uncapped a bottle of ink.
"What are you doing?" said Thomas.
"What's it look like I'm doing?" said Bane.
He wrote some lines, then blew on the ink to dry it.
"This is a letter instructing the warden of Fogbottom Keep to release your brother."
Bane folded the paper, dribbled some wax on the seam and pressed his ring into it, sealing it. Thomas was afraid to make any sudden moves. If this was a dream, he didn't want to wake himself up.
"Bane, I... I don't know what to say."
"Don't say anything. Just take it," he said, and stood up and handed Thomas the letter.
Thomas took it and stood silently for a moment, searching Bane's face. He felt like hugging him, but he wasn't quite ready to go there yet. It was Bane after all.