Page 58 of The White Knight

“Sit. I need to speak with all of you.”

Guinevere pulls herself from Lance’s embrace, keeping a hand tightly threaded with his. “I don’t like the sound of that. Just tell me that my three guys are safe before I have a heart attack.”

I smile at Guinevere and her dramatics. “We are safe, my dear. Though still treading rough waters.”

We sit together around the fireplace. Galahad sprawls out on a bench while I take the large armchair. Lance and Guinevere take the other bench together, sitting so close I could not tell where their bodies touched. How could anyone forbid their love? They were molded as one, their bodies and souls. To keep them apart would be the greatest of sins. I will never let that happen.

“Mordred is to be put on trial.” I pause, letting the statement settle in their minds. “Before you ask questions, I know this could mean my downfall is near. But I refuse to let Lancelot be punished for something Mordred is responsible for.”

“But Arthur,” Lancelot says, “I am the one who killed King Bagdemagus’ son. I challenged him to a duel.”

“A duel you fought formyhonor. Honor that was besmirched thanks to my ungrateful and disloyal nephew. It is time that he pays for his actions and his words.”

“When will the trial begin?” Galahad asks, curling his legs into his chest.

“Gawain stayed behind with King Bagdemagus’ men. They will keep Mordred under house arrest. I will make arrangements for the trial to begin in two days.”

Guinevere gasps. “What of the tournament? The last of the games and all the awards. Shouldn’t the trial wait until the tournament is over? We can keep Mordred locked up for a week.”

Lancelot unlaces his hand from Guinevere’s and wraps his arm around her shoulders, pulling her even closer. “This cannot wait, Guin. A man was killed. Someone must be held responsible. Perhaps that someoneshouldbe me. I am the one who sunk a knife into his throat. But the alternative was to let him slit mine.”

Guinevere grabs Lancelot’s bearded jaw, pulling his gaze to hers. “Don’t talk like that. Ever. Again.”

“Father,” Galahad whispers, bringing our attention to where he sits curled up on the bench. “What if I use my powers to go back in time to make sure this doesn’t happen?”

“No.” Lancelot answers for Arthur. “Merlin said youcannotchange what has passed. If you try to change it, you could make things worse.”

“This could be what causes the collapse of Camelot.” Worry etches the lines of Galahad’s face. This boy. This young man isalways so poised, calm, and collected. Rarely ever showing signs of vulnerability. Galahad might have grown up in the blink of an eye, but he is just a scared little boy in this moment.

Guinevere pulls herself out of Lancelot’s embrace and rushes to her son. “We don’t know what it will be. We can only choose our own paths and hope they lead us to an end where we all live happily ever after. I’ve been afraid of how this story will play out for us, but we cannot make a move that will put us at a greater risk. You traveling in time to change something we have all witnessed would most definitely be an unnecessary danger. What if you run into yourself? What if you arrive on the wrong day? What if you can’t get back? The unknown future is terrifying, but we have each other today. We will find the right path together.”

I stand up with Lancelot, surrounding Galahad and Guinevere, needing to hold our family. Guinevere sounded so confident we could make it through this together. I do not share this confidence. Fear consumes me. Fear of losing all that I hold in my arms in this moment. I was delusional to believe I could have this, that my life could be full of love, light, and joy. My future was always destined to be one of solitude. Until that future, I will soak up every memory with my family. Every moment of happiness. Every minute I get to hold my wife and son close to my heart.

Chapter 36

Guinevere

The throne room hasbeen transformed into a courtroom. As Arthur and I enter the hall, silence falls on the crowd. A crowd full of unreadable faces. A crowd that should be enjoying tournament games and celebrating unity. Instead, they’ve come to watch the king’s nephew be put on trial by another king whose son had died at the hand of Lancelot, the White Knight of Camelot.

Two solid tables face each other in front of the throne. Mordred sits alone at one table while King Bagdemagus stands at the other, flanked by Alfred and Lance. I steal a glance at my love as Arthur and I pass through the tables with Galahad behind us, making our way to the thrones on the dais. From my seat, I have a view of the entire room. The mass of people makes a perfect semi-circle around the tables now in front of me, keeping a respectful distance thanks to our knights keeping guard.

Looking out at the crowd, I can’t help but recall the first time I walked into this room as the White Enchantress, holding Excalibur at my side. There was an air of excitement filled withexpectation then. Now, there is grief, confusion, worry. There is no outcome that will appease everyone here. King Arthur has allowed his own nephew to be tried for the death of a prince. My heart clenches with anxiety. My stomach churns, and not from being pregnant. I didn’t want to come, but Arthur said it was expected. I must keep my composure, no matter what Mordred says.

Galahad is the last to sit, taking his place next to Arthur. Once the three of us are seated, Arthur motions to King Bagdemagus to start. Lance and Alfred sit beside him, but Bagdemagus remains standing. “Before we begin, I wanted to make a public apology to King Arthur for imprisoning his man, Lancelot, the chancellor of Camelot. I had acted in grief and was not thinking clearly. Yet our gracious host still gave me the time to grieve and helped me see reason. Not every man would allow his own kin to be put to trial. King Arthur is known for his mercy, his kindness, and his fierceness in battle. I hope to live up to your ideals and show mercy to your kin. Through this trial, I only wish to gain the truth.”

Bagdemagus pauses before sitting down, waiting for Arthur’s nod of approval. Alfred stands to begin the proceedings, asking Mordred questions about his friendship with Maleagent. “You have known our prince for many years now, correct?”

Mordred rolls his eyes as he falls deeper into the wooden chair he sits upon, crossing his arms in disappointment. “Yes. Shall I remind you that Maleagent was no longer a prince, as his father stripped him of that title just before Sir Lancelot murdered him?”

“King Bagdemagus stripped Maleagent from his right to rule Gorre. As we have all witnessed, Mordred. He was and will be remembered as a prince. We are here to gain insight into the events that lead up to the duel and the unfortunate death of Prince Maleagent.”

Alfred pauses for a brief moment before continuing. “Sir Lancelot challenged the slanders Prince Maleagent spoke regarding King Arthur and Queen Guinevere. We do not wish to repeat these dishonorable lies, only to understand where they came from. Was it you who whispered these lies into Prince Maleagent’s ears?”

Mordred slams his hands down on the table. “They are not lies,” he yells, then points to me. “This woman is a whore. Her son and the brat inside her belly are obviously not the king’s. They are bastards.”

Gasps, shouts, and grunts shake the silence in the air. I grab hold of Arthur’s hand and look into his eyes. His squeeze doesn’t reassure me like it was meant to. We knew Mordred would speak out so bluntly about us. He is angry and mortified at being put on trial. He’s out for blood now and will take us down any way he can. Fortunately, the crowd around him doesn’t seem to agree, well most of the crowd.

“I told you not to repeat such slanders. We wish to know how you coaxed Prince Maleagent into speaking your own hateful musings out loud to Lancelot.”

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