Page 16 of The White Knight

Chapter 10

Lancelot

Later that evening, Galahadjoins us for a private supper in the royal apartments. My son. I cannot keep my eyes off of him. He looks like Arthur in how he holds himself. But those bright green eyes are mine. I cannot quite tell what color his hair is. It seems to change from gold to sandy brown to auburn. Galahad may resemble me and carry himself like Arthur, but he is Guin’s son.

From the few hours I have known him, I know he will be a remarkable ruler one day. The way he looks into my eyes when I speak to him, like he is listening to every syllable I say. Breathing in every word. He does this with everyone. He listens. He examines. He studies. Everything around him is sacred and worthy of his attention. How is it that this boy is only seven years old?

“I was told you have the makings of a fine swordsman, Galahad. If you would like, I could train you myself. It would be an honor,” I say to my son after finishing our supper. We walk through the small private dining area with Guin and Arthur, each of us taking a seat on the benches by the fireplace.

“Really? Sir Lancelot, do you mean it?” Those bright green eyes flash even brighter with excitement.

“Yes, of course I mean it. The prince of Camelot must have the very best training. And if I may humbly say, I am the best.”

Chuckling, Arthur chimes in with his agreement. “Sir Lancelot’s skill with the sword is well known, and he has proven himself in battle. You may have heard the stories, but to see him in the heat of a fight is quite the treat. You must take care and pay attention to everything he teaches you, Galahad.”

“Yes, father.” Galahad nods firmly in Arthur’s direction.

I look away, catching Guin’s eyes. A pain in my chest clenches my heart. I am not angry with Guin, but knowing we have a son and she did not tell him about me hurts more than I can admit to her. But I know she too feels this pain.

Guin attempts to smile, but it only makes the tears pooling in her eyes come gushing down. Quickly, she wipes them away, not wanting Galahad to see her sadness. I try to comfort her by sending her a message through my eyes, telling her I am all right, even though I am a complete mess inside. It is all I can offer at the moment.

“Sir Lancelot, will you tell us what happened with the dragon? How did you survive?” Galahad asks in his childish giddiness, shifting from a princely young man to a little boy in an instant. Guin has the same ability. One I find rather endearing.

Arthur clears his throat. “Son, that is for another time. I am sure Sir Lancelot is weary from his travels. Now, off to bed with you. Kiss your mother goodnight.”

“Okay,” Galahad says unenthusiastically, hopping off his seat to plant a soft kiss on Guin’s cheek.

“Goodnight, my little love,” Guin says as she tousles his hair.

“Night, mama.”

As Galahad makes his way down the hall to his bedchamber, Arthur stands up and walks over to the fireplace, staring into theflames. Guin and I remain sitting opposite each other on a pair of cushioned benches.

Not knowing where to begin, I offer my thanks for their hospitality, but Arthur interrupts. “Nonsense. Camelot is your home, Lancelot. It will always be. I am so happy to see you again. To see you alive. It…well, I know this is a complicated situation we are all in, but we will find a way through it and avoid a catastrophe.”

“How?” Guin asks, shaking with tears. By instinct, I find myself at her side, warming her cold body, holding her as close to mine as I dare.

“We need to tell the truth,” Arthur proclaims.

“What truth?” Guin and I ask in unison.

“A few days from now, we shall enter the great hall together. The people will be in disbelief that you are alive, that is to be certain. They will have questions. I want to answer them before they are asked. Let us come up with the truth now so we can do so together.”

“You mean, let us come up with lies to tell so we don’t get caught in the wrong one?” Guin sits up straight, facing Arthur.

“No. Well, not complete lies. I mean to tell the kingdom the truth, as much of the truth as we can. I think you are right that confessing the truth about Galahad’s paternity is dangerous. Is it more dangerous than lying? Perhaps. There will be questions about our marriage, regardless of what I say about Galahad. We will need to speak to the archbishop. He will be angry that I have married a woman already taken, but how could I have known that your first husband still lived? How could any of us have known? There must be a way we can carefully navigate these waters, find a way for the two of you to be together without the kingdom losing their queen.”

“This is very dangerous, Arthur.” Guin looks away from the two of us, gazing into the embers of the hearth. “Whatever choice we make tonight, it will bring us closer to the peril I told you of.”

I carefully wrap my hands around Guin’s icy fingers, then look at Arthur. “If we give them the truth of Galahad’s paternity, how will the kingdom trust you? And Guin, you said that Mordred had already damaged the people’s trust in Arthur. Even a small amount of distrust can lead to ruin. This most certainly will enrage those who already follow Mordred.”

“There are assumptions, and there are hidden truths.” Arthur thinks for a moment, placing his hand on the carved stone of the fireplace. “I have always claimed Guinevere’s child as mine, yes. And there is truth in that. I told Guinevere her child would be mine, no matter what she decided. I would adopt her child, no matter the sex. We only need witnesses. I know two volunteers who will say such a thing if we need them to. The people will accept this truth.”

“You have too much faith in humanity, Arthur.” Guin shivers next to me.

“Or maybe you have too little faith in people, Guinevere.” Arthur looks at Guin with longing and sadness.

“I can’t help but think of what I know is to come.” Guin matches his sadness. “Whatever we do, the three of us are doomed. All we can do is make sure that Galahad is protected.”

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