Page 63 of The White Knight

In the blink ofan eye, my life is in ashes. I am not the king everyone admires anymore. The king with a beautiful, loyal wife. The king with the perfect son and heir. The king who was chosen to rule Britain. I am nothing. I am no one. Mordred has taken everything from me. He has betrayed me just as Guinevere had predicted. I should have listened to her. I should have banished him. I should havekilledhim.

As everyone filters out of the throne room, I think back on the events of the last couple of days. How did Mordred evade his house arrest? How did he convince King Bagdemagus to help him? Elaine had known immediately that something was wrong when she found me walking into the great hall to share the mid-day meal with my men. The look on Elaine’s face made my stomach drop. At first, I thought Mordred had found a way out of his apartment to harm her. Elaine had been courageous to speak up against Mordred during the trial. He would certainly want to retaliate. Perhaps he still does.

When Elaine explained she had helped Guinevere into the catacombs to meet with me, I felt my world crash down allaround me. I ran without explaining myself. I ran to the entrance of the catacombs, Elaine at my heels. All I could think about was Guinevere and Lancelot. I was not ready for it to end. I was not ready to lose them. I still am not ready to lose them. I know that for the rest of my life I will regret this day above anything else. The day I let them be taken from me.

As I sit in the empty throne room, I want to believe this is all some nightmare. That I will wake up in the morning to find Guinevere and Lancelot sleeping peacefully by my side. Mordred walks over to me, head held high with confidence. He settles himself in the seat that belongs to Galahad, my son. It takes everything I have not to strangle him until his eyes pop from his head. I need to keep on this face though. I need to let Mordred believe I am defeated. I need to give them time.

Even though I had not said a word to my knights, I know they are helping Guinevere, Lancelot, and Galahad escape. They had a plan. I do not know what, but I noticed Elaine handing over Guinevere’s old bag to Gawain as he escorted my son out of the room. Such loyalty is undeserving of a deceitful king like me.

“It grieves my heart that you had to find out this way, uncle.” Mordred leans over from the solid oak chair that belongs tomy son, placing a hand on my arm. His false sympathy is nauseating, but I let him think he is consoling me. Until I know my family is safe. “I only wanted to bring the truth to light. You were too bewitched by your whore of a wife to see it.”

I stand up quickly, hiding my face from Mordred. The anger coursing through my body needs to be sated with Mordred’s blood. In this moment, I know I will kill him. I could kill him now. Perhaps with Mordred gone, I could have my family back. I would no longer fear losing them. My hand snakes around the hilt of my dagger. I can feel the blade sink into his chest, snagging on his breastbone, his blood rushing down my hands. It feels good. I need to kill him.

As I turn to make my attack, a man runs into the throne room, out of breath. I can barely make out what he is saying, so I allow him a few minutes to compose himself. “They have escaped.”

I hide the smile spreading across my face by running my hand along my jaw. The hand that was ready to take Mordred’s life just a moment ago.

“They who?” Mordred rasps.

“The queen, her son, and her lover.” The man is still catching his breath from his sprint to inform us of the recent events. “Sir Gaheris is dead.”

“What? No.” My heart breaks all over again. I must find Gawain. “Who killed him?”

“Sir Lancelot, your Highness. At least that is what I have been told. I was not there to see it. I only saw him escaping through the north gate. He has a few arrows sticking out of him, so he will not get far.”

My chest shatters to pieces. Lancelot would not kill Gaheris. This must be a lie. “And what of my q—Guinevere? Galahad? Where are they?”

“They were also seen escaping through the north gate, but not with Sir Lancelot.”

“No doubt they are heading to Avalon or Joyous Gard,” Mordred spews. “Arthur, we must send men to both locations. We either catch them on the run or we fight them in battle. They must pay for their actions. I can lead a group of men to Avalon. It should be easy to capture them on an island full of women.”

His ignorance is not surprising. No one knows what it is like in Avalon, except for those who have been there. I am comforted to know he thinks Avalon will be an easy place to conquer. That is where my family is going. They will be safe there.

“Where is Gawain?” I ask the messenger.

“I believe he is still in the stables with his brother.” He bows his head in sadness. Gaheris was well-loved by all whoknew him, even the strangers who came to Camelot for our tournament. I turn toward the doors leading outside, but Mordred stops me.

“Did you hear me, Arthur? Do you wish me to rally some men to go after the traitors?”

“No, Mordred.” I do not look at him for fear that he might see my truth. “Let us mourn our losses.”

“But we have an advantage. Lancelot is wounded. We must act now.”

“I said no, Mordred. Let them run.” I pull my arm from my nephew’s grasp and stalk toward the stables. Even at the late hour, the castle grounds swarm with men. As I approach the stables, I push aside the somber people peering at the carnage within. Kei and Bedivere spot me upon entering. They stand up at full height before bowing. They are both bloody messes. No doubt they had been part of this skirmish. Eight men lie dead on the ground. Men unknown to me. I sigh in relief that my other knights are safe, but I will need to think of something to say to the other kings. Whoever these men belong to, their king will not be pleased with tonight’s events.

My eyes fall on Gawain’s back. He sits on the ground surrounded by sticky blood, cradling his brother’s head in his lap. I walk to him, placing my hand on his shoulder. Not caring that my garments will be soaked in blood, I kneel beside him, placing my other hand on Gawain’s.

“There are no words to express my sympathies for the loss of a treasured brother. He was a fiercely loyal knight, ready to prove his bravery at every chance. It is not fair that God should take him so early in his life.”

A scratchy, pain-soaked voice replies. “It was not God who took him.”

“I was told that Lance—”

“That is what happened. That is what must be told. He must be seen as the villain here, or we are all doomed.”

I squeeze Gawain’s hand before rising, terror spreading through my chest at what is to come. Turning to the crowd, I announce a funeral will be held to honor all who have fallen this night. “After we have honored our dead, then we will seek our revenge.”

I just hope I can buy my family enough time to escape. The thought that I will never see them again tears my insides apart. Family was something I never had as a boy. I never thought to seek one out after becoming king. But I found a family in Guinevere, Galahad, and Lancelot. It has only been a few hours and I miss them terribly.

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