A warrior in chain mail appeared from a beech grove.
Lancelot had started to pull her sword, then sheaved it when she saw it was only Accolon. "For the Virgin's sake, Accolon, you shouldn't rush up like that at a party that includes the king. I might have thought you were endangering him and attacked you," she chided him.
All of the warriors looked at Accolon coolly, but Arthur regarded him more indulgently.
"Arthur Pendragon, I have come to challenge you," Accolon called out, in the tone that warriors used at such moments, but generally to social equals.
"How dare you call the king 'Arthur' in such a tone, you cur's puppy?" Bedwyr growled. The warriors all growled similarly and pulled out their swords.
"What is this, Accolon? Are you drunk? Are you mad?" the king asked in a condescending tone, letting his hands rest on his horse's reins.
But Accolon did not seem rattled. He drew a sword whose jewels gleamed in the light. "I have your sword, Excalibur. It was taken from you for the sake of your sister, whom you dishonored. If you want it back, you must fight me for it." He was like a man enchanted with the power of what he was doing.
Arthur shook his fist and yelled, "I'll fight you, then, curse you!"
Lancelot interposed her horse between them. Worried because Accolon was a skilled fighter and twenty years younger than the king, she said, "No, my Lord Arthur, don't dignify this fool by fighting him. I shall fight him for you."
Glaring at Lancelot, Arthur exclaimed, "You will not! Out of my way. Only I shall fight for my sword."
So Lancelot had to rein in her horse.
Arthur swung down from his horse more vigorously than he had in years. "Fight me on the ground, with swords, and even though I use the weaker weapon, my own will come back to me."
Accolon dismounted, too. "I fight for your sister, whom I love," the young man proclaimed.
Arthur let out a shout and attacked.
The fight was bitter and the warriors watched anxiously. Accolon fought blindly, like a man drunk on his own power. He parried the king's first foray, but lashed back too quickly and missed his target. It was not long before Arthur struck a great blow to Accolon's chest, slashing through the mail and cutting him to the heart. The king retook his sword, and held it over his head, yelling in triumph.
His warriors rushed up to him and praised his prowess. Mordred lauded him most of all.
“Nobly struck, sire,” Mordred said in a voice full of emotion. “You are the greatest fighter in the world as well as the greatest king.”
On the ride back, Arthur did not speak to Lancelot.
When they returned to the caer, there was a great hue and cry, as everyone heard what had happened, and warriors, ladies, and serving people all tried to get close to their king and shout their praises of him and their congratulations on his victory.
After a little of the din had subsided and Arthur had gone off to change his clothes, Lancelot followed him down the passageway. "Are you displeased with me, sire? I wanted only to assist you."
"Or to unman me?" Arthur asked, turning towards Lancelot only slightly.
Lancelot was startled. "I had no such thought."
"Isn't it obvious that if I could not retrieve my own sword, you would seem to be the better man?" The king was looking middle-aged, with prominent wrinkles, and a little weary.
"Such a thought never occurred to me," Lancelot insisted. "I thought only of protecting you. A few years ago, when your sword was stolen, you asked me to retrieve it, and I did."
"That was a secret matter, and this was a public challenge,” Arthur said, and his tone was not pleasant. “I wonder who stole the sword, for surely Accolon never came so near to my room. Could it have been the queen?"
Astounded, Lancelot leapt to defend Guinevere. "But what would the queen want with your sword? She has no use for it."
"I know now that she befriends my devilish sister, and perhaps she was part of this plot with Accolon." He looked into Lancelot's eyes, as if trying to find some evidence of plotting.
"She would never do such a thing. You do her wrong to suggest it," Lancelot insisted.
"I" his voice was bitter "do her wrong? Aren't you a trifle confused?" Then Arthur went into his room to dress, and Lancelot did not follow him.
Pentecost came soon. Lancelot's fighting was not her best, but nevertheless she won the individual contests and her side gained victory in the general fighting. She said it was because Gawaine had not yet returned from his mission to Gwynedd, although she carefully praised Bedwyr, who had led the other side of the fight.
Pentecost also was Arthur's chief day for hearing petitions, so after the contests, the great hall was crowded with petitioners of all ranks, as usual.
There was a clamor, and some guards brought in a gray-haired woman, dressed in a black gown in the style of the merchant class. Chains were fastened to her arms, and her legs were chained together so that she could barely walk.
Heads turned and many gasped at the sight. Lancelot's heart flooded with pity.
"Forgive me for bringing this woman here, sire," the chief guard said, "but she begged to bring her case to you, and the lord Cai said that I could."
"Poor, wretched woman, what is your tale?" the king asked.
She threw herself on her knees and folded her hands as if she were praying to the king, but her gaze was fixed on the floor. "I killed my husband, who was a wine merchant, majesty, and the magistrates found out. He beat me for years, and I poisoned his food." Her voice was choked with sobs. "I just couldn't bear it anymore, majesty. Please let me live. I'll do no harm. I've never injured anyone else. My sons and daughters will tell you."
Several young men and women who had come in with her spoke up at once saying, "She's always been so kind." "She won't hurt anyone." "Father was very hard on her. It frightened me how he beat her."
But Arthur looked at her with loathing. "I understand that your sons and daughters would grieve if they lost you as well as their father, but killing your husband is treason," he told her.
The woman moaned and sank to the floor, letting her face lie among the rushes that were spread there.
Guinevere spoke up in front of everyone. "Let me intercede for her, my Lord Arthur. Surely this woman is good and kind, and her husband was cruel. I beg you to show the world your gracious mercy, and pardon her."
Lancelot admired Guinevere's audacity in choosing this case as the one in which she would intercede.
Arthur stared at his wife as coldly as he had regarded the woman in chains. It was late May, but his voice was January. "You actually ask me to pardon a woman for murdering her own husband by stealth at his table? Does anyone join the queen in asking this strange boon?"
Everyone was silent. The only sound that could be heard was a dog yapping.
Then Lancelot spoke up. "The queen is right, my lord Arthur. Some husbands are brutal, and sometimes the only way the women can escape is to kill them. I have helped protect a few such women from punishment."
Many warriors gasped at her words.
Arthur's face looked as gray as the petitioner's. "Let this woman be released into the custody of her eldest son," he told the guards.
The woman and her family wept and exclaimed their thanks, but Arthur did not acknowledge them. He said, "Next petition."
Bedwyr drew Lancelot aside. "Are you completely mad?" he asked. "How could you join the queen in defending a woman who killed her husband, and say that you have helped other women who killed their husbands? Do you think Arthur will ever trust you again?"
"He should," Lancelot said simply.
But that night at supper, Arthur did not speak to Lancelot, and pretended not to hear her when she asked how he was. He spoke with icy courtesy to Guinevere.
Not able to leave things as they stood, Lancelot went to the king's room the next morning. When she entered, he gave only a nod, saying nothing, and turned away, scarcely looking at her. He was seated, but he did not invite Lancelot to si
t in her usual chair. He continued to read a scroll in his hands.
She remained standing. Arthur had never treated her that way before. Miserable, she forced herself to speak. "If you don't trust me, then we should leave. I suppose we should have left long ago."
Arthur dropped the scroll. His eyes widened. "No, don't leave. Who said anything about your leaving?"
She kept her voice firm, though her heart was pounding. "I think that we should leave, and then you might be able to marry another woman. Surely you would be happier. No doubt a bishop would release you to do so." Lancelot had never before spoken so openly to him about her love for Guinevere. She said "we" because she had no intention of leaving without Guinevere. Although Guinevere showed no signs of wanting to depart, surely if Arthur said that Lancelot should go, the queen would change her mind.
"I don't want another wife. Whatever gave you such an idea?" The king sounded surprised, not angry.
"But even if there is no such lady now, perhaps there would be if we left. Perhaps I have injured you too much for you to trust me." Lancelot knew she should not speak of leaving without getting Guinevere's agreement first, but she felt too sad to want to stay.
Arthur leaned forward in his chair. "No, please don't leave. Of course I trust you. You are needed here. Promise that you won't leave."
Lancelot closed her eyes for a moment. The king couldn't know that she had been urging Guinevere to leave for a long time. "I can't promise that."
"I have been good to you, have I not?" Arthur demanded.
"You have, you have," she choked, feeling guilty. "But if you could believe that I would injure you, the ties between us must be wearing thin."
"I was just unnerved by that petitioner." The king never apologized, but now he seemed to be doing so. "Don't take it too seriously." Arthur reached out his hand as if to keep her from leaving. "I depend on you. You must not think of going. Having served me for so long, would you disgrace me in the eyes of the world?"
How could she bring dishonor on the king who had been so kind to her? And after all, how could she bear to leave the only place she knew and the only people who were familiar to her? Perhaps she didn't have to leave. Besides, Guinevere had never agreed to go.
"Very well, not now," she said reluctantly. "But tell me if you ever want me to go."
"I'll never want that," he told Lancelot. "You are the best of my warriors. You generally defeat even Gawaine in the contests."
"Very well." How much he still must love Guinevere, to want so much to keep her here even though she doesn't care about him, Lancelot thought. I'm glad she doesn't love him, but how sad for him.
Bowing her head slightly, she departed, eager to be alone, away from this painful talk. As she walked through the passageways, she thought that every stone in the walls was precious to her. She looked at the faces of a serving man, a young warrior, a stablehand. They all smiled at her. One of Arthur's wolfhounds came bounding up to her, and she patted it. She now loved Camelot nearly as much as Arthur did.
But she decided she would not go off with Arthur on a hunt planned for a few days hence. She had no wish to spend more time with him, even in the company of other warriors.
Mordred smiled at Agravaine and Gaheris over the ale they had given him. The Orkney clan always had fine ale in their rooms. At least Agravaine and Gaheris did. Mordred had never been invited to Gawaine’s house.
"Everyone knows that Lancelot and Guinevere are lovers,” Mordred said. “Of course, Lancelot is committing treason. If we catch them at it, the king will have to execute him, and punish Guinevere, too. I've procured a key to the queen's chamber."
Mordred could hardly keep the glee out of his voice. How good it was to have accomplices in his plan. Sinking back into his chair, he savored the ale as if it were the finest wine. He doubted that Arthur would kill Guinevere. He would send her away in exile, as he had Morgan, and Mordred would find her there. Guinevere would be grateful.
Agravaine shook his head and drank down his ale. "Unfortunately, Arthur won't execute Lancelot. And Lancelot might kill us. If he doesn't kill us when we burst in on them, he would later."
Mordred had anticipated this objection and had prepared an answer. "The room will be dark, of course. I plan to wear Arthur's clothes. If you wore Gawaine's clothes, you could pass for him in the dark. That way, it would be easy to get close enough to Lancelot to kill him. Even if he's angry at being interrupted, he'd not be likely to kill Gawaine." He chuckled.
"Killing Lancelot's not a bad idea," Agravaine agreed, looking around him as if someone could be spying on them. "But he's too popular. What if someone wants to avenge his death?"
"No one, not even kin, is allowed to avenge a man killed committing adultery with another man's wife," Mordred pointed out, pouring Agravaine more of his own ale, and doing the same for Gaheris, who stared open-mouthed like the fool he was. "Arthur might want to, but of course he wouldn't be in any position to punish men who salvaged his honor, certainly not kinsmen like you. Gawaine is the one who might break the law and avenge Lancelot. That's why it's a good idea that you kill him, because Gawaine won't hurt his own brother." And if Lancelot recognized him as Agravaine and killed him, Mordred himself might be safe.
In fact, Lancelot might kill all three younger brothers Lothian, and Mordred had no objection to that. Then there would be fewer legitimate kin who might possibly succeed Arthur. Of course, Gawaine would still be an obstacle.
Agravaine laughed unpleasantly. "Not a bad plan, is it?" he asked Gaheris, poking him in the ribs.
"How could we do such a thing to the High Queen?" Gaheris asked in a tone that was none too steady. "And Lancelot saved our lives during the war."
"How do you know the queen didn't try to poison Gawaine?" Mordred asked in a reasonable tone, putting out his hand to touch Gaheris's. "We have only the word of Lancelot—an admitted madman and a brute in his killing of Sangremore—to say that Bellangere tried to poison Gawaine. For all we know, Lancelot might have killed Bellangere as he did Sangremore."
"I never thought of that," Gaheris gasped, squinting as he tried to puzzle out an answer. "But won’t Gawaine be angry at us if we kill Lancelot?"
Agravaine snorted. “He will, but it will be too late for him to do anything. I’m tired of the way he favors Lancelot. Aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Gaheris admitted, gulping down his ale as if it were the last in the world. “But I can't imagine barging into the queen's bed chamber. I'm going to get Gareth.” He set down his drink and rushed out of the house.
“Stop!” Agravaine yelled at him, but Gaheris was gone. “That will wreck everything,” he groaned. “Gareth will never agree.”
Mordred patted his arm. “Don't worry,” Mordred said. “Let me handle it. Including Gareth will give us the perfect cover.”
“If he agrees.” Agravaine shook his head.
“He will.” Mordred smiled. “Keep drinking. You'll see.”
Not long afterwards, Gareth burst in without knocking. Gaheris trailed behind him. Gareth waved his fist at Mordred and yelled at him. “How dare you accuse Lancelot of adultery! Lancelot would never betray the king.”
“If that is true, come with us.” Mordred smiled as if Gareth's words had been sweet. “You can ensure that we treat the queen with due respect. But I think you'll be disillusioned by what you find.”
“I won't go, and neither will you.” Gareth glared at Mordred.
“You're wrong, little brother.” Agravaine pounded the table. “Mordred and I are going. The two of you can come with us or not.”
“I can't let you do this! It's a sin to listen to scurrilous gossip. Shut your ears to it!” Gareth's hands formed fists.
“King Arthur's my own father!” Mordred cried, sounding as if he were close to weeping. “Everyone pretends that's not true, but I know it is. I can't bear seeing his honor defiled. I can't let it go on! I won't let it go on!”
Gareth's hands unclenched. “I see that you're distressed, but.
..”
“But nothing.” Agravaine stood up. “We're all King Arthur's kin, and it's our duty to protect his honor. If you come, everyone will understand that's what we're doing.”
“Perhaps we should wait until Gawaine returns,” Gareth said.
Agravaine shook his head. “No one knows when that will be. Mordred's right. We need to act now. I'm going with him. Are you coming or not?”
“I'm going,” Gaheris said. “We need to protect the king's honor.”
“Shouldn't we ask the king first?” Gareth said.
“I've hinted as much to him,” Mordred told them. He put his hand on Gareth's arm, but Gareth pulled away. “My father doesn't want us to do it when he's at Camelot. He's going on a hunting trip, and I'm sure that's the sign that we should act.” Mordred doubted that Gareth would ask the king whether that was true.
“Oh.” The pious youth sighed in apparent resignation. “I'll go with you then to assure the queen that our intentions were only the best.”
“Bring your sword,” Agravaine said. “We all need to be armed.”
“I don't think we will, but it will do no harm to bring it anyway,” Gareth replied, sighing.
“I am grateful to all of you,” Mordred said. He smiled.
24 THE DISCOVERY
Lancelot lay in Guinevere's arms in the queen's soft bed. Although Lancelot had never liked to talk much after love-making, she thought it might be a time when Guinevere would listen to her. She rolled on her side and looked at Guinevere through the flickering candlelight. "I'm so weary of hiding our love. Arthur doesn’t trust me any more, although he says he does. Can't we go away?"
Guinevere stroked Lancelot’s hair. "Don't worry, love. We have each other."
Guinevere covered her with kisses, and Lancelot let herself dismiss her concerns.
The door crashed open, and men burst into the darkened room. Lancelot could not see who they were. Only a few beeswax candles glowed by the bed.
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