The Knight of the Sacred Lake
Page 45
They moved on down the hall. Ahead of them the angry sun was pouring through the far window, washing the Orkney brothers in streaks of red. Waiting by Arthur’s throne were the King’s three companion knights, Sir Kay, Sir Bedivere, and Sir Lucan, their keen glances showing their sense of what lay ahead. Behind them Guenevere caught the white heads of two older knights, Sir Niamh and Sir Lovell, who had once served her mother. They were the last of the dead queen’s knights still alive. In their midst was a tall, smiling young man, cutting a striking figure in royal blue and gold, and with something Otherworldly in his air.
Arthur’s eye lit up at the sight of the handsome face. “Mordred!” he cried.
Mordred stepped forward jauntily and made a deep bow. If he wanted to show he was the son of the King, Guenevere thought sardonically, he had done that. His short cloak and well-made tunic set off a lean, well-muscled frame and long horseman’s legs. Deep gold bangles hung on his wrists, and a gold coronet held back his thick, blue-black hair. His eyes had the same hyacinthine shade, and his wide, white smile touched every heart at court.
Except one. Guenevere drew a ragged breath. She had never warmed to Mordred, and she would not now. The young man was a living reminder of Arthur’s betrayal, when her husband had yielded to his half-sister Morgan, seduced to her bed by spells. Mordred had been the result, a child of lust. Guenevere had lived through her anger long ago, and had vowed to accept the boy for Arthur’s sake. So for years she had smiled and held her peace while Mordred had grown to become Arthur’s delight. But she had never trusted the son of Morgan Le Fay.
Yet what had Mordred done to deserve her mistrust? She caught herself up. He has done nothing, remember? He is not the cause of your present fear.
They mounted the steps to the dais and took their thrones.
Arthur leaned over and fondly touched her hand. “Never fear, my love. Nothing will be done against your wish, even for my own blood kin.”
She inclined her head. “Thank you, sir.”
Arthur signaled to the Chamberlain. “Begin.”
Gawain approached the throne. “Ten years ago, sire,” he began, breathing heavily, “you banished my brother Agravain. We have come to ask you to allow him back to court.”
“Reprieve Agravain?” said Arthur sternly. A ripple had run through the court at the sound of the name.
“Yes, sire.” The color rushed to Gawain’s face. “He has paid his blood-debt. For years now he has wandered overseas. And he longs to tread on his native land again.”
“Gawain, your brother killed a knight of the Round Table, and for that the penalty is death.” Arthur nodded somberly to Guenevere. “It was only because of the Queen that he escaped with banishment.”
Guenevere clenched her fists. And that did not mean that ten years later he would be welcome back. Only a lifetime can pay for another life.
“Sire, he came upon Lamorak in the dead of night,” said Gawain doggedly. “He killed in self-defense.”
In self-defense? Guenevere gripped the cool bronze arms of her throne. Lies, all lies, Gawain, and you know it. Well, say on.
“And Sir Lamorak’s death is not the only burden that Agravain must carry till he dies.” Arthur’s voice was heavy with remembered pain. “Have you forgotten the death of your mother the queen? Mourning for Lamorak, she lost her own life too.”
Gawain’s beefy face turned an angrier shade of red. “Our mother concealed her love for her knight from us. Agravain never meant to kill her chosen one. I swear he should not be paying for her death!”
He paused, holding the moment with unconscious power. In all the court, not a soul moved.
“As for Sir Lamorak—” Gawain heaved a furious sigh. “Sire, all the world knows his father killed my father long ago. Our brother saw a blood-feud, a just debt. And all this was ten years ago and more. The dead are sleeping quietly in their graves. We beg you, let my brother return and live. He longs for nothing more than to serve you now.”
Guenevere leaned forward. He wants his brother back, that I understand. But that’s not all. She pressed Arthur’s hand. Arthur, Arthur, attend.
“Sir Gawain,” she said clearly, “you have told us why you think your brother should return.” She paused for emphasis. “But why now? What makes this the moment he should return?”
In spite of himself Gawain’s eyes slid toward Mordred, standing at the side of Arthur’s throne. Guenevere nodded to herself. As I thought.
Now Arthur was frowning too. He let go Guenevere’s hand. “You heard the Queen, Gawain,” he said stiffly. “Why now?”
Gawain took a breath. “My lord, all the world knows that Prince Mordred is to be knighted at Pentecost. When I was young, I swore my allegiance to you and in twenty years I have never broken faith.” For a moment, a searing shaft of love made Gawain’s big face almost beautiful. “I ask no more than to swear the same oath to Prince Mordred your son. And I pray that my banished brother may do so too.”
Oh, this is clever, Gawain. Guenevere sat still and allowed her thoughts to run. At Mordred’s knighting, everyone knows that the King will name him as his heir. Is it you, Gawain, or your dark-scheming brother who wants to be there to greet the rising sun? Do you even plan, perhaps, to help the new sun arise?
She watched Gawain’s eyes as they flickered over Mordred, then returned to Arthur again. No, Gawain loves Arthur. He has no desire to see Mordred in his place. If any man dreams of evil, it is Agravain. He must not return.
She leaned across toward the neighboring throne. “Arthur—” she said urgently.
But Arthur’s eyes were filling with tears of joy. He reached out for Mordred’s hand. “Take these good knights to your heart, my son,” he said huskily. “They are our kin. We shall never have any more.”
Cold certainly gripped Guenevere like a claw. Arthur means to reprieve Agravain. She seized his arm. “Arthur, wait—think what he has done—”
Without warning a dark sickness filled her sight. Through it she saw Agravain approaching with his familiar storklike stride, casting around like a hunter for his prey. He was armed for close combat with a vicious stabbing sword, daggers at his belt, and a shield on his left arm. Soundlessly he slipped through the palace corridors, pale and grinning like an avenging ghost. Behind him she could see a band of knights, all armed for the kill and smiling like him too. Suddenly she knew they were making for the Queen’s apartments, they were outside, they were here—
“Guenevere!”
She came to herself with a violent, shuddering start. Arthur was frowning at her with angry concern. Mordred leaned forward anxiously. “Oh madam,” he said, “thank the Gods—we thought you were ill.”
She waved him away. “Arthur—” she began hoarsely.
He shook his head. “The time has come for forgiveness, Guenevere.” He leaned toward her throne. “If Gawain can forgive the death of his mother, so can we.”
Arthur, beware. The Orkneys love no man but themselves. Already they are looking toward your heir. Agravain will court Mordred, and you will be cast aside— She drew a breath. “I don’t trust them, Arthur.” Another sudden tremor gripped her frame. Agravain above all—
But Arthur was already patting her hand. “Don’t worry, Guenevere,” he said reassuringly. “What is it I’ve so often heard you say? ‘We must seek love and understanding, not anger and hate?’ ”
“It’s what the Lady teaches on Avalon,” Guenevere said numbly. “ ‘Religion should be kindness. Faith should be love.’ ”
“And so it is,” chuckled Arthur. “And Agravain should come back.” A smile from long ago lit his fine-featured face. “Chamberlain, bear witness to our royal decree,” he called. “Our kinsman Agravain, banished ten years ago, is now reprieved—”
Arthur, oh Arthur—
Guenevere sat in silence as the sonorous sentences rolled on. Sir Gawain embraced his brothers, and all three wept for joy, leaning on each other’s necks. Arthur beamed on them, and on all the court, rejoicing
in his power of dispensing goodwill.
Outside the sun broke through the watery clouds and poured into the chamber in shafts of gold. In spite of herself, a sliver of hope warmed her heart. All may be well. All may yet be well.
But as the court rose, she slipped a ring from her finger and called Ina to her side, pressing it into the hollow of the maid’s hand. Ina’s eyebrows flickered a question they both understood.
“Yes,” Guenevere breathed. “Send for Lancelot.”
The Guenevere Trilogy
Long relegated to a passive role on the arm of King Arthur, Guenevere at last springs to life in this lavish retelling of one of the richest and most enduring epic tales of Western culture. Rosalind Miles’s bold, magical interpretation recreates the stirring pageant of love, war, heartbreak, jealousy, revenge, and desire from Guenevere’s perspective, capturing as never before her formidable power as a queen and her full-blooded passion as a woman.
Guenevere, Queen of the Summer Country 0-609-80650-5 $12.95 paperback (Canada: $19.95)
The Child of the Holy Grail 0-609-80956-3 $12.95 paperback (Canada: $19.95)
The Knight of the Sacred Lake 0-609-80802-8 $12.95 paperback (Canada: $19.95)
For more information about historical fiction titles from Crown, including free discussion group guides, visit www.MaidensCrown.com.
AVAILABLE WHEREVER BOOKS ARE SOLD
The Tristan and Isolde Trilogy
In this glorious series of historical novels, Rosalind Miles offers a lavish, sensuous, and lushly detailed retelling of the star-crossed Celtic lovers’ legend. Set against a rich background of ancient Cornish, Irish, and Welsh history, the Tristan and Isolde trilogy adds a thrilling new dimension—and a freshly imagined twist—to the venerable Arthurian tale.
Isolde, Queen of the Western Isle 1-4000-4786-2 $12.95 paperback (Canada: $19.95)
The Maid of the White Hands 0-609-60961-0 $23.95 hardcover (Canada: $35.95) CROWN PUBLISHERS, INC.
The Lady of the Sea 0-609-60962-9 $23.95 hardcover (Canada: $33.95) AVAILABLE FALL 2004
For more information about historical fiction titles from Crown, including free discussion group guides, visit www.MaidensCrown.com.
WHEREVER BOOKS ARE SOLD
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Rosalind Miles, Ph.D., is a well-known and critically acclaimed English novelist, essayist, lecturer, and BBC broadcaster. Educated at Oxford and the universities of Leicester and Birmingham, she is the founder of the Center for Women’s Studies at Coventry Poly-technic in England. Her novels, including I, Elizabeth and the Guenevere trilogy, have been international bestsellers. She divides her time between homes in England and California. For more information, visit the author’s website at www.Rosalind.net.
ROSALIND MILES is a well-known and critically acclaimed English writer and broadcaster. Her novels, including Guenevere: Queen of the Summer Country and I, Elizabeth, have been international bestsellers. A native of Warwickshire, she lives in California and in Kent, England.
ALSO BY ROSALIND MILES
THE GUENEVERE TRILOGY
Guenevere, Queen of the Summer Country
The Knight of the Sacred Lake
The Child of the Holy Grail (July 2001)
Fiction
Return to Eden
Bitter Legacy
Prodigal Sins
Act of Passion
I, Elizabeth
Nonfiction
Who Cooked the Last Supper?: The Women’s History of the World
The Fiction of Sex
The Problem of Measure for Measure
Danger! Men at Work
Modest Proposals
Women and Power
The Female Form
The Rites of Man
The Children We Deserve
Copyright © 2000 by Rosalind Miles
Map copyright © 1998 by Rodica Prato
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published by Three Rivers Press, New York, New York. Member of the Crown Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc.
www.crownpublishing.com
THREE RIVERS PRESS is a registered trademark and the Three Rivers Press colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Miles, Rosalind.
The knight of the sacred lake / Rosalind Miles.
“The second of the Guenevere novels”
1. Arthur, King—Fiction. 2. Guenevere, Queen (Legendary character)—
Fiction. 3. Arthurian romances—Adaptations. I. Title.
PR6063.1319K65 2000
823’.914—dc21 99-40177
CIP
www.randomhouse.com
eISBN: 978-0-307-42212-5
v3.0