Page 56 of The White Knight

Maleagent tries to throw off my concentration by spewing more vile words about my queen, my wife. I remain silent through them all as he wastes his energy, swinging his broadsword higher than necessary, trying to land a blow to my chest. He likely thinks if he can knock the wind out of me, he will have me at a disadvantage. I am not letting him anywhere near me. As he pulls his sword back, I notice the weak spots in his armor. The pit of his arms, the neckline where the gorget meets his helm, and even in the back, there is a small gap.

His armor is burdensome. With every step he takes, his footsteps are heavy and loud. I never enjoy wearing armor, but I am grateful for our skilled blacksmiths. In my armor, I can move faster, more nimbly on my feet to avoid every potential blow directed my way.

“Stop running away from me, coward, and fight. Your whore is watching you. Do you not wish to impress her, or does she get wet at cowardice? That would explain why she is married to a pansy of a king.”

I let my anger feed my strength. Our swords connect with a long clang, sending Maleagent backward with a menacing blow. The metal of our blades slides away from each other, and I remain silent as Maleagent continues to attack me with his words. The mental game he is playing will not work on me today.

“Why are you not defending your whore and that coward of a king?” He spews, attempting to land a jab at my side, which I deflect with ease. I can tell Maleagent is growing tired, his breath ragged and shallow. It is time to show him just how good I am with a sword.

I leap backward, giving him the idea that I mean to stay away from his reach. He immediately raises his sword. As soon as I land on my feet, I rush forward, my hands firmly gripping the hilt of my sword as I hold it up against Maleagent’s blow. He fumbles backward, nearly losing his grip. I spin around using the momentum and Maleagent’s vulnerable position to kick him down to the ground.

His sword falls from his hand as he lands on the soft dirt of the arena. The crowd’s cheers and yells fall silent for a second. I take my time walking over to Maleagent, not wanting to end this fight so quickly. I mean to make him look weak. I want the crowd to cheer for Arthur’s judgment, whatever it might be. Maleagent crawls over to his sword, rolling away from my half-hearted jab. On his feet again, Maleagent remains quiet as our blades clash.

With each swing, I bring my sword down harder and harder until he groans in frustration, unable to keep up his strength. I smile triumphantly through my helm, and I know Maleagent can see my face as I deflect his last blow. The movement of our swords turns him to the side, giving me a small window to slice at the exposed fabric underneath his armor.

A scream pierces the air. I believe I have made Maleagent angry. But his anger does not make him a better swordsman. It makes him sloppier. I swing faster and faster, landing blows to his shoulder, side, thigh, and finally, his helm. The last blow stuns him long enough for me to kick Maleagent back down to the ground. I step on the blade of his sword and aim the point of mine at his exposed neck. With my foot, I kick Maleagent’s sword away from him.

I remove my helm, looking up to see Arthur is now standing at the railing of the royal box. Guin still sits, looking paler than usual. I know she was frightened, but I told her I would win, and win I did. For her, for Arthur, for Camelot. I will never lose when I fight for honor. Still, seeing her in such distress makes my chest clench in pain. When we are alone later, I will make her forget all her fears.

Arthur silences the crowd with a simple gesture. “This unscheduled duel brings much sorrow to my heart. It was fought with honor on the part of our White Knight and chancellor, Sir Lancelot. An honor soiled with unsolicited and slanderous words from one of my guests. Prince Maleagent, I hope you will accept my mercy as I accept your defeat as an apology for your vile words against me and my wife. The purpose of this tournament is to demonstrate that we can be a united country. United under one ideal. Peace. And the protection of our land and people. In keeping with this aim, I will place your judgment on the shoulders of your father.” Arthur turns toward the seats within the royal box, motioning behind him. “King Bagdemagus.”

The robust man rises from his seat to stand next to Arthur, his wide shoulders held back in confidence, not the defeat of witnessing his son losing a duel. I quickly glance behind him to check on Guin. There is more color on her face now, but she still looks nervous. I sheath my sword and kick Maleagent’s further away before stepping away from him as he faces his punishment.

“My son, I have never been more disappointed in you than I am on this day. You have disgraced yourself by dishonoring your host, a most gracious king. For your actions, I am taking away your claim to my throne. Knowing you cannot hold yourself with grace and nobility, I see clearly that you are not fit to wear my crown.”

“What?” Maleagent rises from the ground. “You cannot take my crown from me for speaking the truth about King Arthur and his whore of a wife.”

“That is enough,” King Bagdemagus bellows.

But it is not enough for Maleagent. I can feel him move behind me at the same time I hear Guin shriek my name. The knife nearly slices my throat, but I step back and grab the hand holding it. In one swift move, the same knife sinks deep into the opening of Maleagent’s armor. Blood pours from his neck, coating my hand within seconds. I quickly remove the helm on his head, falling to the ground with Maleagent in my arms and try to stop the bleeding. It is no good. With one last gurgled breath, Maleagent looks up at me, a wicked smile plastered on his face.

Chapter 35

Arthur

Chaos. My castle isin chaos. Bagdemagus punished his son in front of all my court and guests, stripping Maleagent of his royal title. I had thought it a harsh punishment, but he did it for me. Because he had chosen my side. Chosen the truth I carved out of lies. The guilt weighs heavily on my heart to continue to lie to the man, to everyone. But no one would understand. No one would allow Guinevere, Lancelot, and me to be together.

So I try to focus on what is important. Bagdemagus believed in the Britain I have been dreaming of. His son did not. Maleagent only wanted to destroy me. Why? I cannot say. He spent much time with Mordred, who most likely poisoned his mind against Guinevere and Lancelot.

Maleagent’s death shocked Bagdemagus, leaving him distraught at the sudden loss of his son. Everyone saw Maleagent meant to kill Lancelot after the duel. He attacked from behind in desperation. I just do not understand why. Perhaps he knew Lance would kill him, that chaos would erupt and threaten to bring down everything I have worked so hard to build here.

Why? I have been asking myself this question over and over.Why?Am I being punished for taking Guinevere as my wife? I thought—no—knew I was doing the right thing. I blamed myself for losing Lance. Yes, I believed having Guinevere as my wife would make my life easier, would bring peace to the realm much faster, and carry me to the seat of power I was destined for. But now? Everything is falling apart. I must have done something wrong. Something to offend God.

Thinking of the nights I spend with Guinevere and Lancelot should fill me with shame. My sinful love for a wife I share with another man does not feel shameful though. It feels pure. For God to punish me for loving my wife, for loving Lance, seems wrong. He would not punish me for trying to bring happiness to the people I love most.

And Galahad. I had promised Guinevere that I would look after her child no matter her decision. I would have kept that promise even if she never wanted to marry me. If the realm believed Galahad was Lance’s and not mine. But heismy son. I have raised him as my own since his first breath. I have loved him as my own since before Guinevere let me in her life.

I have sacrificed everything for my kingdom, for Britain. Was it too much to ask for happiness? To have a family? To feel loved? I have been alone most of my life, trusting few, and loving less. So much was taken from me when I was young. I grew up quickly, alone, except for Merlin and a small group of followers loyal to my father, who were then loyal to me.

For decades, I have been fighting a war with the minds of all the kings in Britain. I fought to keep my claim to the throne when I should have been playing with wooden swords. Now, I am fighting to show the realm a better world. A world where we are all one unified country. I do not want this power, this destiny, this throne. But that is the crown I am meant to bear. Iwill fight for it until the day I die. Still, it has all come at a terrible cost.

When I finally felt like my life was full, that I could have more than just a heavy crown, it all crumbled to dust. Why am I being punished? Have I not lost enough, sacrificed enough, fought enough?

Bagdemagus’ men took Lancelot, and I cannot do a thing about it without risking the unity I have fought so hard for. With Mordred whispering into the king’s ear, filling his deranged grief-filled mind, I worry about what they will do with my White Knight.

The arena had been packed with people curious to see Sir Lancelot fight Prince Maleagent. Every one of them witnessed the scene after the duel. Lancelot was defending himself. Though most people were on Lance’s side, especially after he was taken away, their memories have faded and rumors are ringing loudly within my castle walls.

Guinevere is beside herself with worry. She wants me to send my strongest knights and demand that Lancelot be released. If Bagdemagus does not hand him over, Guinevere told me to kill him. She is obviously grieving. Anger is her way of defending her heart. She reacted similarly when I told her Lance had died all those years ago. I cannot threaten Bagdemagus though. I need to stay true to my message of unity. The people will see reason. They must.

---