by A. J. Cronin
“Perhaps, My Lord,” Rachel speaks up, “you should tell her of how you first became involved with the Knight.”
“Yes. Lisa needs to know how we came to this point,” Gawain declares with a nod of approval, taking a seat facing his daughter. “And, seeing as there is no way of knowing how long Alastor will be, there is absolutely no better time to tell this story. It will hopefully offer some context to the events of the last weeks. Understand first, daughter, that all my life, I had only known of the Black Knight, not the man under the armor, but the hulk of armor itself. The Black Knight I knew of was... evil, to say the least.”
“Alastor mentioned that most of the armor’s wearers were so.”
“Alastor was most likely referring to his own grandfather. A man that neither he nor Eoin would ever again allow to be spoken of, to the point that they destroyed all physical references that they could. It was not until you came to the age of five years that I actually met Eoin.”
Rachel sits beside Gawain. Lisa and Amy share a glance, the Queen looking for an ally in what she is about to undertake.
“I am listening, father.”
Chapter Sixteen
The Battle of Five Kingdoms
Gawain sets his daughter into her bed with care, not wanting to wake her, while his wife watches from the door.
“More birthdays like this one, and she will be spoiled in no time, Gawain.”
“Our daughter will only turn five once, Persephone,” he says, walking back to her. “Besides, we both know she will never be spoiled. She takes after her mother far more than she does her father.”
Persephone grins coyly, draping her arms around Gawain’s shoulders.
“Sweet talk will avail you not, dear husband.”
“Yes it will, dear wife.”
At that, the two kiss softly, letting themselves get lost in the perfect peace of the moment. Like all good things in life, it does not last. Rachel comes into the hall, walking morosely toward the King and Queen.
“Rachel? What are you still doing here? I thought you were off visiting your brother?” inquires Persephone.
Rachel raises her head, the lines on her face showing clearly the worry in her heart.
“I had a premonition along the way, so I returned. As soon as I stepped into the castle, Edna asked me to come let you know that there is someone in the throne room to see you, Lord Gawain.”
“At this hour, on this day?” Gawain says in bewilderment. “Go tell Edna to send this visitor away. She knows that no business, kingdom or otherwise, was to be had today. Whoever it is, he will have to come back tomorrow.”
Rachel vies with her tongue to find the right words to explain.
“Edna was quite adamant that I impart to you that this is no ordinary guest.”
Gawain opens his mouth to argue, though he stops at the sight of Rachel’s face, seeing on it something never before seen and wholly undesirable in someone normally so very strong. Letting go of his wife, Gawain starts to the throne room.
“Rachel, stay with Persephone and Lisa. Please.”
“Of course, My Lord.”
Gawain’s heart races, mind full to overflowing with possibilities. Walking through the moon and fire lit halls of the castle, instinct drives the King’s feet away from the throne room. He clenches his hands, grinds his teeth in anxiety. He comes into one of the guard houses, nearly scarring to death those stationed there. Gawain gestures to the pair closest to him.
“You two, come with me. The rest of you, silently gather the rest of the castle guard and come to the throne room.”
The men snap to action without question, but the King’s disposition lets them know clear as day that something is amiss. As the King and his swordsmen descend the stairs to the entrance hall, a palpable sensation of foreboding hangs in the air like musty fog. Gawain stops before the throne room doors, gesturing for the swordsmen to have their blades ready to be unsheathed.
The King throws open the doors, no clue as to what truly awaits him beyond; there before the throne, back to Gawain and his men, a lone man, imposing in stature, clad in black armor, stands in mute, statuesque perfection.
“Who are you?” the King of Essain demands.
The armored man rotates around to face Gawain and the swordsmen.
“Does this armor not spark even the faintest of memories, good King?” he asks.
Gawain stares abhorred at the man.
“The Black Knight?” Gawain mutters.
The swordsmen draw their weapons against the Black Knight without being ordered.
“That is what some have taken to calling me,” the Black Knight says with an almost dejected tone.
The Black Knight raises his hands, opening them to show that he is unarmed, but Gawain does not care.
“Kill him!” the King growls to his men.
“Put those weapons away!” a voice cries out, annoyed.
Gawain wheels to the voice, finding Edna storming toward him.
“Edna, what are you doing here?” the King demands.
“Keeping you from making a grievous mistake from the looks of things!” the advisor shouts.
“Mistake?”
“Perhaps you should let the man speak before condemning him, Gawain. He has come unarmed, into the very heart of your kingdom, after all.”
Gawain burns, turning back to the Black Knight, not even trying to hide his scowl.
“Speak,” is all he says.
The Black Knight lowers his arms, while Gawain signals for the men to lower their swords.
“You have every right to believe me a villain, but I am not the same man whom has created that reputation. Long ago, our fathers of old were allies. Friends even. Working together to fight a terrible evil and maintain the peace of the lands. However, while your fathers maintained their honor, eventually the blood of my forefathers fell to the wayside, and they committed many unspeakable, abominable acts. I intend wholeheartedly to try and make atonements, but for that I need your help Gawain, King of Essain.”
The Black Knight’s voice is calm and gentle. Gawain with his expert ear can hear no deception in his words. The King gestures to Edna, now wanting her advice.
“He speaks the truth, of that I am most certain,” she speaks in a quiet voice.
“Very well then, Knight,” Gawain barks. “What do you need of me?”
“A somewhat more private place to talk, perhaps? This throne room,” the Knight says with a quick look back at the throne seat, “despite being quite beautiful, is far too open for comfort.”
Gawain signals for the men to remain in the throne room while he leads the Black Knight to the castle library. Edna follows quietly behind with a sly smile on her face.
~-~~-~
The Black Knight runs his armor clad fingers along the many rows and volumes of books, laughing or making an impressed sort of sound every once in a while. Gawain and Edna both sit at the central table while they wait for the Black Knight.
“This is quite the collection,” the Knight observes. “More than I would have expected to be honest. There are some books here that I thought long destroyed.”
“Now, of what service can I be to you, Knight?” Gawain asks, still untrusting and more than slightly perturbed.
The Black Knight forsakes the library, resetting his attention back to Gawain and Edna, a sigh of annoyance coming from him as he does so.
“Do not call me that,” he tells them as he removes his helmet. “My name is Eoin, and I would much prefer you call me by it.”
Eoin sets his helmet on the table. Gawain has trouble looking at the man behind the armor. Except for his long black hair, Eoin appears to be no older than himself. Edna smiles at seeing the unmasked Knight.
“As you wish, Eoin. I am listening.”
“Thank you, Gawain. Ensuring the safety of peace loving peoples has been the central pillar upon which my mission of undoing the evils of my blood has sat. Recently, while aiding a small artisan city in the east, I h
ave learned of something that threatens those who I have sworn to protect.”
“What sort of something?”
“An army is being assembled in the south.”
“For what purpose is this supposed army mustering?”
“Quite simply to destroy all cities that profess faith in the nameless God.”
Gawain’s eyes search Eoin suspiciously.
“If half the stories I have heard concerning the Black Knight are even remotely true, I would think that you should have no problem with one army.”
Eoin smirks.
“That would normally be true, except this is not one army. It is three. Combined from the armies of three Samael worshiping kingdoms.”
“Three armies of Samaelites acting as one? I find that a hard story to swallow.”
“You know of Judeheim I assume?”
“Of course I do. Judeheim is more than an ally to us. We are an extension of it, and it of us.”
“Tomorrow, Essain will receive representatives from Judeheim to collaborate what I have told you.”
“Why would they send people and, more importantly, how would you know this?”
“Because I have already recruited Judeheim’s aid, Gawain. It was the High Council itself that suggested I should try and enlist you, but they also knew that the likelihood of you trusting or believing me was low.”
Gawain leans back in his chair, hand skirting the metal of his sword’s hilt. Never in a hundred lifetimes would he think he would be sitting and listening to the Black Knight, regardless of whomever occupied that contemptible armor. Unwilling to make up his mind, he glances over to his advisor.
“Edna? What say you?”
“I have felt a growing void, but I could not place it,” she says, closing her eyes. “Eoin’s story gives shape to the void, and if it is true that Samaelites gather, it is of grave importance to you, Your Highness.”
“And why would that be?”
“Because this army would exist only to crush followers of the nameless God, and they gather to the south. Where do you think they will strike first?”
Gawain knows the answer. He rubs his chin, evaluating all that has been told to him.
“What must I do to keep Essain safe?” he asks Eoin.
“In order to meet this army before they come within striking range of Essain, you would have to leave before dawn, the day after next. Sooner is preferable.”
Eoin suddenly averts his eyes away from Gawain and Edna, as one might do when they hear an unexpected sound. His face reacts as though he is being spoken to, learning some secret, and his silence causes Gawain and Edna to look at one another in utter bewilderment.
“Eoin? Are you well?” Edna asks.
Eoin’s attention is brought back to the King and his advisor.
“I am sorry that I could not fully explain the situation, but I must take my leave right now.”
Before either can react, Eoin takes up his helmet, places it back on and storms out of the library. Gawain stares at the doorway, equally shocked and dumbstruck as the Black Knight leaves as sudden as he came.
“Edna, friend... did all of that just happen?”
Edna holds back a laugh.
“I am afraid so, Your Highness.”
“In honesty, I do not know what to make of this.”
“The man, or his story?”
“Both. Every fiber of me wanted nothing more than to have him killed. That is a lie. I wanted to do it myself, and watch each drop of life ebb out from him. But...”
“Hearing him talk, seeing his face, looking into his eyes. It all brought everything you know about the Knight into question.”
“Yes.”
“And you want to know what I think of him.”
“I do.”
“Eoin, by all appearances, is a good man. What I know for certain, though, is that he is not the Butcher of Theria, not the man who has caused so much grief. The armor is the same, more or less, but the man inside could not be more different.”
“So I should believe him? Trust him?”
“I cannot tell you whom to believe or trust, Gawain, but you will probably know for certain tomorrow. If he spoke the truth, you will get verification from Judeheim, and then there will be no reason to think his words on friendship were a lie.”
Gawain puts his hand to his forehead, searching his own heart and soul.
“Essain has not gone to war since my great-grandfather was King, and now I face one with only a day at best to prepare. What am I to do?”
“Do you want my honest opinion?”
“I always do.”
“Go rest. Try not to dwell on these issues now, not until the company from Judeheim arrives. To think of war before then would be folly.”
Gawain finds some comfort in this, but a new revelation comes to him only to rob it away.
“Persephone! What do I tell her? She will want to know who it was that came calling.”
“Knowing your wife’s connection to the Black Knight, I would advise judiciousness with what you tell her.”
“I will not lie to her.”
“I said nothing of lying, dear King.”
Gawain stands, feeling like he has aged years in the short time Eoin was there. Edna remains seated.
“What will you do?” he asks her.
“In situations such as this, there is but one thing I can think of doing: research,” she answers, looking around the library.
“If you find anything, let me know.”
Too tired to say anything else, Gawain leaves Edna to her study. In the throne room, the guard is fully assembled. The watch captain steps forward.
“My Lord, we came as quietly as possible to avoid waking the castle. Those who were with you told us of our guest, who ran out of here without a word or even a nod. What has happened?”
“I want you to go to my brother and tell him to start making preparation for war.”
“War, My Lord? Should we not then call up the militia?”
“No. I do not want word of this to reach the ears of the kingdom, not yet. You are all to remain silent on the matter, is that understood?”
The gathered men bow in acknowledgment. The watch captain dismisses his men, then goes about the order given by Gawain. Gawain stands alone in the throne room, still internally debating what to tell his wife. He finds himself facing his throne seat without willing himself to.
A peculiar phenomenon creeps over his mind, almost like his own thoughts are being smothered as they form. He falls forward, but catches himself. A sensation of momentary non-existence. He leans against the throne, unable to figure out what this means, so he ignores it and heads back to his quarters with more important things to deal with.
Rachel and Persephone are still in the hall, talking. Lisa’s door closed so as not to wake her. The two see Gawain coming towards them.
“Who was that?” Persephone asks.
Gawain raises his hand, signaling for his wife to wait while he faces Rachel.
“Edna is in the library,” he informs Rachel. “Tell her to apprize you of the situation and help her in any way she might need.”
Rachel bows and leaves without a word.
“Gawain, what is this all about?” Persephone presses.
“The visitor was a man named Eoin. He came to tell me that he believes an army of Samaelites has begun to gather in the south.”
Persephone stares at her husband as if he is unfamiliar to her.
“Who is this ‘Eoin,’ and of what worth is his word?”
“On both counts, I can only say that I am uncertain. His claims are questionable, yet he did offer some semblance of trust, I suppose.”
“And what might that be?”
“Tomorrow, ‘representatives’ from Judeheim will supposedly arrive, substantiating Eoin’s story.”
“What will it mean if this does happen?”
Gawain lowers his eyes.
“Essain will ride to war.”
Perse
phone goes silent, staring at Lisa’s door.
“And if not? If this Eoin is proved to be a liar?”
“I do not know. All logical thought eludes me.”
“What does Edna say?”
“She has reason to believe Eoin and his story to be genuine.”
Persephone paces across the hall, worry and fear slowly building.
“Edna has never been wrong. If she believes him, then war is in our future.”
“Unfortunate, but probably true.”
Persephone stops, coming close to her husband.
“And when war does come, will you ride out to fight it?”
“An army of Samaelites, Persephone. Is it not my duty to do so?”
“Yes, but what of your duties to us? Lisa would not do well to grow up without her father.”
“Better to live without her father than to not live at all.”
Persephone embraces her husband, holding him tightly.
“What will you do now?”
“Edna told me that I should rest,” he says with a small laugh.
Persephone gazes longingly into his eyes.
“Then it would be best if you follow her advice,” she says coyly, leading him into their bedroom.
~-~~-~
In the morning, Gawain wakes with the rising sun. Not wanting to disturb Persephone, he slides out of bed as slowly as possible. After dressing he makes for the throne room, finding that his brother is already there.
“Good morning, Gallahad.”
“With your wife, I bet all mornings are good,” Gallahad snickers.
Gawain smiles, but says nothing on the particular subject.
“Is the army ready?”
“Yes, and the Elite Guard as well.”
“The Elite? Why?”
“Edna informed me of the details concerning our little visitor last night. Seeing as we might be dealing with Samaelites, I felt that the Elite Guard would make a good addition to our numbers.”
“Good thinking, but there is still a chance that we will not go to war, brother.”
“As father said, ‘better prepared than conquered.’ I think this is the sort of situation that calls for his teachings.”
