Lancelot and the Wolf

by Sarah Luddington

  The guards at the final gate stopped us, just as I knew they would, “State your business,” came a gruff voice. I knew the man, a good sergeant who had served Arthur for years. Why he stood on guard duty concerned me, this was a job for men below his rank.

  “We come to declare a challenge to King Arthur, so my Lord can prove himself in open combat as worthy of Camelot,” Else’s voice rang out. As a woman, she had a deep voice, as a man, the sweet tones sounded almost wrong. Or maybe my own knowledge of her status made that true.

  I watched the scarred face crease in a deep frown, “If your Lord wishes to join Camelot then he should declare himself openly and not as a Black Knight.”

  Else stared down at the man, “His reputation is such the King will want him without testing his worthiness. My Lord has no wish to curry favour in such a way.”

  The sergeant sighed heavily as he looked at me, “Fine, but I’ll take you to the King myself and God help you.”

  I almost asked why we would need God’s help but the sergeant moved off before I spoke. Just as well, I supposed but something felt off about Camelot and it made me nervous.

  We walked into the great courtyard and two boys appeared to hold the horses. We dismounted. My feet hit the stone and I clinked loudly. Ash bit the boy holding him the moment he realised we weren’t fighting and proceeded to make life difficult for everyone in kicking distance.

  “That’s a fine horse,” said the sergeant as he watched Ash’s antics.

  Else replied, “My Lord has taken a vow of silence until King Arthur accepts him in his Court.”

  The sergeant shook his head, “Damned foolishness.”

  I took the banner from Else and she fell into step behind me. The sergeant walked ahead and we entered the main part of the keep. Granite steps led the way to a set of doors almost as large as the front gate. We went through the open doors and into a vast entranceway. Once more, this area had been prepared as a killing ground. A high stone balcony ran around the top, a place for defenders to fire down into the hallway. The whole space remained almost bare of furniture but for huge tapestries of hunts and stories from myth tumbling down the walls. There were many doors off this room, but no obvious access to the upper levels. All the stairways were through more doors, again creating killing grounds for defenders.

  We walked to the back, the heavily decorated doors the only indication we were heading for the throne room and council chamber. I felt both calm and thrilled with anticipation at seeing Arthur again. I had missed him so much for so long. I only hoped Geraint would be there too, seeing my friend would steady my nerves. There were two more guards on the doors, who opened the portal ready for me to see my King.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The doors swung inward silently. I stood, waiting for the sergeant to announce us. I had seen this ceremony done a dozen or more times over the years as new men came to fight with Arthur. I looked into the chamber through the limited vision of my helmet and smiled because it hadn’t changed in all the months I’d been denied entrance. Unlike many of the other rooms inside the keep, this room glowed with light. Arthur, wanting to stamp his reign firmly on the Court, changed its interior almost as soon as he ascended the throne. Vast columns ran through the long room, forming great fan vaulting over our heads. In the centre of each fan sat a stone boss, representing each of the knight’s and their coat of arms. I wondered briefly if mine were still close to Arthur’s, then decided I didn’t want to know. To see it defaced or gone or worse, replaced, would hurt too much. The floor remained clear of rugs and rushes, polished granite reflected more light from the huge arched windows Arthur punched through to the outside. A cloisters type walkway ran around two of the walls, one at the back the other to my right, for private discussion and meetings. Stained glass in some of the windows gave the floor beautiful coloured puddles. Four rows of columns made the room appear wide and tall. There were tables along the walls and chairs but they were used for banquets. Arthur’s stone throne sat in the centre, hidden by the throng for the moment. He only used it for high ceremony, preferring to mix with his people.

  The room held many of my friends and enemies. A low level hum came from their conversation. All the men wore swords but none wore armour. Women graced the room in flowing gowns, sitting on couches doing the things women do, lute, stitching, talking. None would hold a sword and defend my back like my Else.

  I didn’t see Arthur until the sergeant spoke, “Your Majesty, I am here to announce the arrival of a Black Knight. He wishes to ask for the right to fight for his place in your Court as an anonymous petitioner.” The man’s voice boomed over the crowd, just as it would in the training yard. I’d never understood how a good sergeant manages to make his voice heard over the cacophony of a fight, but you never fail to understand them.

  The crowd instantly stilled and parted. They revealed the throne and Arthur. My breath hissed out of me in shock. The man before me was not the King I knew. A table stood on the raised dais, a large flagon of wine with a glass beside it, half empty. Sext had yet to be called, the sun still in the eastern half of the sky. Geraint stood to the right of the throne, his expression grave and worried. Arthur, his bright blonde curls in lank tangles, rather than their normal short tight ringlets, lounged on the mighty stone chair. We walked forward. I realised his face looked puffy, his eyes red rimmed and his hand shook when he reached for the wine. The clear blue eyes of the man I adored were dirty and faded. I had never seen Arthur like this, me yes, without his influence to steady me, but he had always been the strongest of us. He looked so weary.

  Arthur rose slowly and walked down the dais steps toward us, the sergeant and Else dropped to their knees. I stayed perfectly still.

  The blue velvet doublet Arthur wore, which must have matched the colour of his eyes once, appeared crumpled and stained. He approached slowly, his expression grimly amused. I smelt the wine on his breath.

  “So, you have come like so many before you to present yourself to me for combat. Believing you have the right to join Camelot,” he said turning and sweeping his arm out in a gesture of grandeur.

  “My Lord has taken a vow of silence, your Majesty. Until he has won the right to bear arms as your man he will not speak,” Else spoke clearly with her head facing the floor and eyes downcast.

  “Arthur,” Geraint said, walking forward. “Maybe you should ask the knight in private why he would want to present himself to Camelot. Perhaps he would talk to you then and there would be no reason to fight.”

  My friend told me that Arthur was in no condition to fight, as if I needed the warning. Else looked up at Geraint sharply and he stared at me with pleading eyes. He did not want me to challenge Arthur. My King however had other ideas.

  “You,” he stabbed a finger in Geraint’s direction, “are a fuss pot. I,” he pointed a finger at his own chest, “need a man able to fill that gap.” He pointed directly upward.

  I knew what sat over the spot in which we stood. My boss, my coat of arms. I knew without looking it no longer existed. One of the original four, which radiated from his own coat of arms over the throne, it now sat in some stonemason’s yard broken and destroyed.

  Arthur turned back to me, “Do you think you are worthy of Camelot, Black Knight?” he hissed with real menace. “There are things in this Court which break men’s hearts and minds. Things which tear at the soul in the dark of the night. Things which make even a king beg for mercy. Do you still want to be a part of my world?”

  Seeing the pain in Arthur, so clear and so blatant almost broke my resolve. I wanted to raise my helmet and beg for his mercy. I wanted to take him in my arms and hold him until he stopped hurting. I had never seen my friend like this, darkness oozed from his eyes and the Court shifted uncertainly.

  “My Lord,” Else said before I did anything stupid, “will prove his worth on the tourney field. All he begs in return is the right to speak with you, alone, when he wins. You may pick any one of your champions to face him, so long as h
e speaks with you once it is over.” She modified what we had planned to say, clearly trying to help Geraint force Arthur into making one of the others fight me.

  Arthur laughed, a terrible sound dripping anger, “The King of England is not a worthy opponent? Is that what you are saying, squire?”

  Else looked up shocked, “No, your Majesty, that is not what I am saying at all. It would be an honour to face you on the field.” She had no choice but to give Arthur what he wanted.

  “Good, then we fight, this afternoon,” Arthur announced.

  A ripple of noise seeped around the room. Kay, another friend, stepped forward, “I believe the Black Knight would rather face you in the morning, Sire, when you are both fresh.”

  Arthur turned to Kay, “You mean when I’m sober.” I watched my friend’s face blanch as Arthur’s bitterness ripped into his heart. “Stop trying to manage me, my Lord Spencer. There is only one man I would choose to face this Black Knight and he is not here, so I shall do it.”

  He meant me. I would have fought in his place. It was my right as his champion, until the Queen stole me from my Lord. Then Arthur had to ask Guinevere’s permission to use me for these games. A joke that grew sour over the years.

  “Sire, I am happy to fight in your place so the Pendragon line comes to no harm,” Kay persisted. “We cannot risk you against an unknown opponent.”

  This was perfectly true. Arthur however did not see sense and Kay was always sensible, “Bollocks, if you faced him, Kay, he would win and Camelot’s honour would be in tatters. At least I will present him with a real fight,” Arthur snapped. “This afternoon, at Nones, we will meet in the tourney field.”

  “Your Majesty,” Geraint began.

  “One more word and I’ll start talking about treasonable charges because you think your King is weak,” Arthur said, talking to the crowd but looking at me. “I need a challenge and I need the hole in my heart filling,” his voice dropped until only Else and I would hear. “I need a man I can trust, Black Knight, are you that man?”

  I opened my mouth spellbound by his sudden intensity to say yes, when he turned away and vanished from my vision.

  “You have the detail of our date, make certain to be there, knight,” he bit the words off. “We will see if you are worthy to call me, King,” Arthur swept to the back of the hall and vanished through a small door I knew led to his private chambers.

  I bowed. Else and the sergeant rose and we left the room in silence. I had just hours to prepare before facing Arthur and winning, without hurting him. We walked to the courtyard and I retrieved Ash, who stood alone in the large square space except for Mercury, he munched on some hay. Ash had clearly proved himself too dangerous to stable. As I approached, he laid his ears back and gnashed his teeth.

  “I knew a grey like that once,” said the sergeant. “Damn fine horse and his master was the best knight I knew. Most of these tosspots couldn’t fight their way out of wet cloth bag, but him, he knew how to fight. Just like his Majesty does. They were fine men to watch and finer to know. I can only hope you are here to bring the King back to his senses. He needs stopping fast. His anger is such that even the best of men are in danger. He lost his friend to politics and he cannot forgive himself or his Court for making it happen.”

  I didn’t think the good sergeant knew so many words. I also realised he’d twigged as to who lay under the black amour.

  He grinned at my sharp intake of breath. The price on my head for returning to England would be more than a year’s pay. I tensed ready for the yell bringing dozens of soldiers, instead he said, “There are many things a man can hide, but the way each man touches the hilt of his sword is unique. It is a good way of finding friends and foe on a battlefield when colours are gone and armour covered in blood. I wish you luck, my Lord.” He gave me his knee to stand on to mount. An offer I could not refuse, I mounted and rode off after Else.

  “That was bad,” she said. The horses clomped on the paved road covering her voice.

  I didn’t know what to say. I had never seen Arthur in such a state and it seemed as though I carried the blame. Had losing me to the trial and banishment really changed Arthur that much? Or was it the publication of the original betrayal, of others knowing infidelity that proved too humiliating? How often had I begged for that time back, so I could undo the damage?

  I felt Else take my hand through the thick gauntlet on my left side where she rode beside me, “This is not your fault,” she whispered as though reading my thoughts.

  “Yes, it is,” I said sadly. I had broken the heart of the noblest man I had ever known and I did it for a fuck. I think I hated myself more in that moment than at any other time in my miserable life. Once I fancied myself in love with a woman, so I took that woman. Now I knew what real love should feel like and I couldn’t have it. I also didn’t deserve it, if what I had done to Arthur should be repaid in full.

  In three hours, I would face Arthur on the tourney field and all I wanted to do was lay my head on the block so he could have full reparation for my sins. We rode out of the city and back to our small camp on the edge of the woods surrounding Camelot. Else hustled me into the tent and took my helmet and gloves off, then removed the coif, gorget, breastplate and backplate, enabling me to move easily but redress quickly. I sank onto the small bed I’d used the night before.

  I ran my fingers through my sweaty hair and over my face, “This is madness, I should just walk up to Arthur and beg his forgiveness.”

  Else knelt on the ground at my feet, “No,” she said firmly putting her hands on my metal knees, the poleyn stopping me feeling her touch, “You need to prove yourself to him once more. You need to shock him into remembering you are worthy of his love. You need to make him listen to us. Do you really think you are the only reason he is suffering? Can’t you see the dark magic which is influencing him already?” her brown eyes beseeched me to understand. “You are all that can save him from himself.”

  “You don’t know what I did to him,” I said.

  “Yes, I do,” Else said gently. “I made you tell me when we were in the cave. You wept in my arms.”

  That should have made me angry; it just made me more depressed, “So you know why I was flogged. How can Arthur forgive that?”

  “Because you accepted another’s punishment and he knew it. Lancelot,” I saw her hands clench with the need to touch me. “Sweetheart, you are a good man who made a terrible mistake.”

  “I am not a good man,” I said. “I am a killer.”

  “You saved my life, twice, three times if you count the hunt in the wood,” Else said softly. “You didn’t have to do any of those things, especially after I had lied to you so badly.”

  I felt tears prick my eyes, “I thought I loved her.”

  “I know and while others were ignorant Arthur lived with the infidelity because he stole her from you in the first place. But, love, she is not innocent in this,” Else continued gently. “You took her punishment because she let the secret out to try and control you.”

  I looked up sharply, “How the hell do you know that?”

  Else rocked back on her heels and sighed, “Geraint and I had a long talk before we left. He wanted me to know how Guinevere is capable of manipulating you and Arthur, hoping I think to aid me in protecting you. Your friends blame the Queen for your disgrace, not you. Geraint told me you held out against her for a long time but finally fell to her seductions.”

  “We were out hunting, all of us, Arthur asked me to stay close to Guinevere in case anything happened and she fell off the damned horse. No one else was close and I found her in my arms. Like a fool, I fell for it, for her. I had lain with many other women but never loved them, only her and there she was, just as she had been the day I asked her to marry me. Which happened to be the day Arthur asked her the same damned question.” My voice echoed the bitterness I still held in my heart, “Who would you chose, a penniless knight or a king?”

  “I choose you,” Else said. She ha
d pulled on her gloves without me noticing and held my face in her hands as she spoke. “I choose you because you tried to leave her over and over again, but love can be a harsh mistress and Guinevere would not let you go.”

  “Geraint talks too much,” I complained.

  “He is trying to protect you,” Else said smiling. “He loves you a great deal and wants to see you back at Arthur’s side.”

  “Geraint is a romantic,” I mumbled. I considered her words carefully, finally able to think about Guinevere without falling into a rage. “You said she was the one to make our affair public?”

  Else rose and began gathering what we needed for the tourney, “Geraint didn’t think you knew. He tried to tell Arthur but almost received banishment himself for his pains. Guinevere knew she was losing you, knew you would throw her over for Arthur and she wanted you stopped. She is jealous of your relationship with her husband and with good cause I have no doubt,” Else looked at me and I ignored her implications. “But that is irrelevant. What is important is that she wanted to hurt you and Arthur, but she didn’t understand, or chose to ignore the consequences. So, she leaked the affair. Never realising how much havoc she wreaked in the Court, the damage to Arthur’s reputation as a king and man, and what you would have to suffer by taking her punishment and your own.”