Page 66 of The White Knight

We hold each other tight, letting our grief consume us. The pain behind my eyes fades as I drain myself of all the tears I have held inside for the last few days. Keeping Gawain in a tightembrace, I push an apology from my mouth. “I should have told you the truth. I should have told everyone the truth.”

“No, Arthur. You did the right thing.”

“How was this right? They are gone. I will never see them again. And Gaheris…” I pull away from Gawain and stalk over to the fireplace, wanting to throw myself into the flames to end the agony racking through my heart. “It is all my fault.”

“It is Mordred’s fault.” Gawain places a hand on my shoulder, pulling me over to the closest bench. He sits me down and takes a place beside me. “He is greedy, selfish, power-hungry, vile, cruel. He is all the things you are not. It does not matter if Guinevere was married to you or Lancelot. It does not matter if Galahad is your son or Lancelot’s. It does not matter what you did or did not do. You would have never made Mordred your heir, and he would never have been happy with that decision.”

Gawain’s words strike true. Still, the pain of loss consumes me, fogging my mind with doubt. “If I publicly announced my marriage to Guinevere invalid and that Lancelot is not only her true husband but father to my heir, would the kingdom hate me as they hate me now? Perhaps we would have had a better chance if I laid everything out in the open.”

“No one hates you, Arthur. Including Mordred. He is full of hatred, but not for you. If you let it known that your wife was legally another’s and that your son was not your own, all the respect the people still have for you will die. Even though you lied to them, your lie was safer than the truth.” Gawain chuckles under his breath. “Though it would have been safest to keep Lancelot in Joyous Gard, far away from Guinevere for the rest of their lives.”

“I could not do that to them.” I stare into the fire, knowing that any scenario would have put us right here. It is how the story is to be written, for it is how it will be told.

“I know. The love those two share for each other is impenetrable.”

We sit in silence together, letting our thoughts simmer. A maid enters quietly, telling me she will light the candles for the evening and if I would like my supper brought up. “Yes, bring enough for four. Gawain will be staying. Fetch my nephew and King Bagdemagus as well.”

The maid curtsies with a “Very well, your Highness.”

Gawain eyes me with suspicion as the maid leaves my apartment. “What is the plan, my king?”

“We go to war.”

Our supper is pleasant enough, considering the strange quartet sitting around my dining table. I was not sure King Bagdemagus would accept my invitation. We have spoken little since the catacombs. But he seems jovial enough with my company that I believe he could still be an ally. The two of us make idle conversation, avoiding the topic I know he desperately wants to discuss.

Across from me, I notice Gawain has not taken his eyes off Mordred since he sat down to eat with us. I can see that Gawain’s stare is unnerving Mordred. His mask of arrogance is peeling away with every second that Gawain stares. Even as I call his attention over to my conversation with Bagdemagus, Gawain does not break his gaze as he responds.

Soon enough, Mordred will break. And when he breaks, I will remove my mask as well. My mask might not have fooled Gawain, but Mordred does not know how I feel inside. He believes he has freed me. That this invitation to a private dinner in my apartments is a sign that I am thankful for what he hasdone. I smile warmly at Bagdemagus as he compliments the food I have chosen for tonight’s menu.

“Pizza. It is a dish my wife brought to Camelot.” I allow my voice to falter a bit. It is authentic in sadness, but the anger I add to my eyes is false. “Even though she is…gone, I cannot seem to remove her from my mind.”

Bagdemagus pats me on the shoulder. “It must be difficult to cope with the loss you have faced. Such deceit right under your eyes. We all grieve for you, Arthur.”

“Coming from another king, your sympathy means more than you can know.” I bow my head and push my plate away, signaling Gawain.

“Here is the thing, my king. I am just not convinced by all of this.” Gawain’s glare is so sharp, Mordred reacts as if someone placed a cold dagger against his throat. “Not too long ago, I witnessed your nephew attack Guinevere. Unprovoked.”

“What!” Mordred pushes his chair back, nearly toppling over as he stands. “I did no such thing.”

Gawain ignores Mordred’s response but finally breaks his gaze, turning his head to me. “Do you remember that night when Mordred broke Guinevere’s lute?”

I nod, pushing my brows together in curiosity, even though I know what he is about to tell me. He told me earlier. Now we have all we need to prove that Mordred had set everything up to take the throne from my son.

“Mordred broke the lute, attacking Guinevere, calling her a whore. He also told her that the throne belonged to him, not Galahad.”

“Shut up, you stup—”

“No. Mordred, let Sir Gawain finish.” I motion for Gawain to continue, sparing a glance at Bagdemagus. He is cautiously intrigued.

“I was at the other side of the corridor when Mordred began his assault. When they were in sight, Mordred had Guinevere against the wall. He kicked the lute so hard it smashed against the opposite wall. I ran as fast as possible to save her, but she was faster. As I approached, Mordred was on the ground with a broken nose and a bruised ego. At which point, I had to save Mordred from being attacked. Guinevere did not want me to tell you, my king. She was afraid of how you would react if you knew your nephew had attacked her. She wanted peace, just as you do.”

Bagdemagus speaks up, turning to Mordred to ask, “Why did you attack Queen Guinevere?”

Mordred hesitates. “I…well…because she was…IS a whore! She was taking advantage of my uncle. She was lying to him about Galahad.”

“Hmm, and did you have evidence of this at the time? You told me you only suspected but that you could show me the truth if I helped you.” Bagdemagus’ gaze sear into Mordred’s.

Mordred’s eyes shift to mine, avoiding Bagdemagus’ deathly stare and ignoring Gawain’s victorious smile. Gawain leans his chair back to get a better look at my nephew before saying, “It is curious, Mordred, that you only were about to get this…evidenceafter you had been accused of causing the death of King Bagdemagus’ son.”

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