Excalibur

“To many-towered Camelot”

-        Alfred Lord Tennyson “The Lady of Shalott”

The hilt gleamed golden as it rested against the darkness of the throne. Its pommel was shaped like that of a lion, proud mane and proud gaze. The quillons were engraved with vines, the hilt wrapped in worn, red-brown leather. The blade gleamed silver, sharp and almost glowing with an unnatural brilliance. Engraved into the center of the blade was a single word: Excalibur.

A man sat upon the throne; lithe, athletic body, ebony hair, a strong face, calloused hands and steely grey eyes. A golden crown adorned his head and his boots were still caked in mud and blood from yesterday’s work.

Before him stood a man dressed in rich purple robes, brown hair down to his shoulders and a tall, thin physique.

“King Arthur,” the man said, “congratulations on your conquest.”

“Thank you, Merlin,” said Arthur, bowing his head graciously.

Merlin looked up, eyes of bright, piercing aquamarine.

“And Guinevere has come, as you requested.”

Arthur’s gaze darkened and he nodded.

Merlin motioned and a figure emerged from the doorway.

She was slender but curvaceous with a heart shaped face. Golden brown hair was braided down her back and strands furled around her face, framing soft brown eyes.

“My Lord,” Guinevere said, bowing at her husband and King.

“Guinevere. Where have you been?” he asked, voice like ice.

“In the gardens, my Lord. Picking flowers, reading, enjoying the sunlight,” she replied, her tone emotionless.

“Unaccompanied?”

“Sometimes,” she answered.

“You must always be accompanied, for your protection,” he warned.

They both knew it wasn’t for her protection. Not anymore.

“As you wish. May I be excused now?”

Anger glinted in Arthur’s eyes and he stroked the pommel of Excalibur.

Merlin’s gaze fixated to Excalibur as though he too could almost hear the hissing voices that echoed around Arthur as he held Excalibur.

“Go. I shall visit you tonight,” Arthur promised.

Guinevere’s eyes flickered nervously as she bowed and left.

“She dances with death, Merlin. Take care she does not lose her footing and fall to it,” Arthur said, his eyes dark and glazed as the hissing whispered to him.

*****

Guinevere waited until she was safely in her room before taking a few deep, gulping breaths. As Queen, she was afforded all the worldly comforts one could want, as evidenced by her lavish room.

Except her freedom.

Once, Guinevere hadn’t minded being close to Arthur, being watched over by him. He was everything a man should be: brave, kind, wise and a protector of the innocent.

Now…now it was like everything had been reversed; day into night, night into day.

Now he was cruel and heartless.

His cruelness to her was not as great as the cruelness she’d witnessed to others. She supposed that the strong feelings they’d once shared together, their burning love, hadn’t been completely lost to the strange darkness that now almost consumed him.

But it was still cruelty, the marks on her skin, the obsessiveness of his gaze and his mind.

Not for the first time, she wished she could escape him, or cure him. She knew escape would be easier. Guinevere knew she was not anyone special. She had no Magics, no fighting skills, no ancient knowledge. She didn’t know how to cure a man, especially a King, the one true King the histories said. Guinevere Had tried healing him with her love and she had failed.  

Escape was her best chance, so she could help from afar, perhaps follow the whispers of the rebellion formed once Arthur’s wickedness had been known, felt, by too many Britons.

In moments like this, Guinevere always wished for Lancelot’s presence, his strength, his wisdom.

Maybe he would come to her tonight, once Arthur had left her alone.

*****

The moon was high in the sky as Guinevere awoke from a restless sleep to a slight sound.

“Lady Guinevere,” came a whisper from the window.

“Lancelot,” she whispered back.

Taking it as an invitation, Lancelot climbed in through the window, his bulk struggling to fit through.

Lancelot gave Guinevere a deep bow, the moonlight reflecting off his golden hair.

“How are you this evening, fair Lady?” He asked.

Guinevere’s hand went, for a moment, to the marks on her wrists. Lancelot noticed and his azure eyes darkened.

Guinevere quickly offered Lancelot a seat and poured him a cup of cool water which he drank readily.

“I am well enough,” replied Guinevere.

She took the chair opposite him and they sat in silence for a long moment. Guinevere could tell something heavy was weighing upon Lancelot and she waited for him to unburden himself.

“He is getting worse, Guinevere,” Lancelot said brokenly.

Guinevere waited, letting him speak in his own time.

“There is a town, half a day’s ride from here. A blight had stricken their crops, so food was scarce. There was enough for them to eat, barely, and when the King’s tribute came, they couldn’t deliver what was promised unless they all starved to death themselves. Arthur…” he drew a deep breath. “The Arthur I knew would have helped them. He would have understood, taken another form of payment, told them to pay double next year or something. Something good. Instead, he drew Excalibur and cut down the alderman. If the townsfolk had not screamed, I would have thought it an illusion. But no, the alderman lay dead on the ground by Arthur’s hand. Then he looked at me, Guinevere, he looked at me and it was not Arthur, but something else, I swear, I…”

Lancelot did not cry, but the pain was written all over his face, the anger in his clenched fists.

Guinevere didn’t know how to comfort him.

“That is not even the worst part. Then, he told us to burn the town to the ground and kill anyone who resisted. I was shocked, all of the knights were. Perceval looked like he was going to be sick and started shaking his head. Arthur looked at him and said, ‘Anyone who disobeys my orders will be cut down as a traitor.’ Then he rode to burn and slaughter for their defiance. The common soldiers were the first to follow his command and the Knights… We burned the houses, but we did not kill anyone. It is against the knight’s code to slaughter innocents, especially women and children. It is against the knight’s code to torture. Loyalty to God is what drives the Knights, and Arthur is the King, chosen by God. To disobey him…I could not, and I will regret what I did until the end of my days and hope that God can forgive me. I hope he can forgive all of us, especially Arthur who…” Lancelot trailed off.

Guinevere knew the change in Arthur, the cruelty, the temper. She hadn’t known just how far he’d fallen. He was no longer her knight in shining armor, their benevolent King to follow to the Gates of Heaven.

That Arthur was gone.

Guinevere could offer Lancelot nothing aside from a squeeze of her hand on his.

This drew Lancelot’s attention to the bruises on her wrists again.

“It is fine, Lancelot. I am strong,” she said, drawing a weak smile.

“I know you are, my Queen,” he paused as he saw her flinch at the title. It was a title she had once held with pride, the woman worthy to match with the great Arthur. Now, it simply reminded her of what was lost.

“You must leave here,” Lancelot said urgently. “He will kill you.”

Guinevere looked at him disbelievingly.

“No. He would never kill me. He…he likes me too much,” she said, disgust and fear in her voice.

“He will. He is capable of any terror now. Please, Guinevere, you must find a way to flee,” Lancelot pleaded. “The world would be a much darker place without your grace.”

“I cannot. He watches me always. And just today he warned me that I must have someone always accompanying me. I cannot even leave my tower alone,” she said.

Lancelot was silent for a long moment, his brow heavily furrowed.

“In two night’s time is the Midsummer Feast,” he said. “You will leave the castle then.”

“What?” She asked, confused. “I cannot escape him.”

“I will help you. I will help you to flee,” he said.

“Flee where?” Guinevere asked in distress. “He is the King of Briton. He will find us, wherever we go.”

Lancelot’s eyes gleamed with a secret.

“I know people who can help and protect us,” he said, and would say no more. “Be ready on Midsummer’s night. Leave the feast early, with whatever excuse you think Arthur will believe.”

Before Guinevere could protest, he disappeared through the window.

*****

The Feast was roaring, most of the men well into their cups, including some of Arthur’s knights. Lancelot and Perceval were absent, which made Guinevere nervous. But Arthur seemed to be informed and did not seem suspicious of the disappearance of the two. To Guinevere, it was very suspicious.

Merlin was watching her too with more scrutiny than usual and Guinevere used all her willpower to look calm and unaffected by anything, although her palms were sweaty.

Guinevere knew that Merlin was smart and cunning as a fox. He was also unreadable. She couldn’t figure out if Merlin felt as Guinevere and the Knights felt about Arthur. Was Merlin too, trapped by the cruelty of the King and the terrible bind of serving the one God had chosen even though he was as he was now ? Guinevere didn’t know. Merlin was strong in the Magics, perhaps the strongest and greatest. Could Merlin save the King? Or perhaps, perhaps Merlin was responsible for the King’s madness, his cruelty.

Guinevere sincerely hoped that Merlin couldn’t read her mind.

Guinevere waited until Arthur was laughing, a rare occurrence, to make her move.

“My Lord,” she said, and took a deep breath as he turned towards her. “I am feeling tired and the loud noise is making my head hurt. May I please retire to my chambers?” she asked.

Arthur’s eyes narrowed as he considered.

“You may go,” he said, after a long moment. “Merlin will escort you there.”

Guinevere’s heart skipped a beat as Merlin’s tall figure rose and quickly stood beside her chair. Guinevere bowed her head gracefully, took Merlin’s hand and was escorted from the noisy room.

“You did not enjoy the Feast?” He asked as they walked along the hallways, narrow corridors and stairs.

“I did, but the revelry proved too much for me,” she said airily.

“Indeed. The Feasts can be so…distracting. Ones attention is on too many things at once to notice what is happening right under ones nose,” Merlin replied.

Guinevere tried to slow her pounding heart. Did he know?

Not another word was said until they stood at her door.

“Thank you for escorting me, Merlin,” Guinevere said, inclining her head.

“You are most welcome, my Queen,” he said.

He leaned closer to her, staring into her eyes so deeply she felt uncomfortable.

“Safe travels, Guinevere,” he said in a soft, conspiratorial voice, then left without another word.

Guinevere entered and shut the door behind her, heart beating fast.

Merlin knew.

*****

Guinevere spent the next several hours in an agony of fear that her plan, Lancelot’s plan, was to be uncovered and Arthur was to rain down all his violence upon them. But the sounds of the Feast downstairs didn’t abate, drifting up to her through even the thick, stone walls, and no one came to drag her to face Arthur’s wrath.

Finally, when the moon was at its zenith, there was a loud clink at her window. She jumped, expecting to see a dark figure, but instead saw nothing. She went to investigate and found a strong, broadhead arrow embedded in her window attached to a long, thick rope. A note was attached saying, “Climb down.”

Guinevere looked at the dizzying height. Her instincts screamed at her to do no such thing. But she knew, deep down, that if she didn’t escape things would not go well for her.

Having prepared earlier, Guinevere now braved the window. The breeze was slight and the moon shone brightly which she was thankful for as she made her way down the wall. Her arms started burning halfway down and she feared she’d drop the rest of the way. She focused on breathing and not the fall beneath her. In, out, in, out. She dared a glance and saw, with relief, that the bottom was very close. Just a little bit more…She suddenly slipped. Thankfully, before a scream could escape her, strong hands caught her and quickly placed her upright.

It was Lancelot in a hooded cloak.

“My brave Lady,” he whispered, then took her hand in his and they ran towards the stables.

Perceval was inside, tacking up his horse.

“Your horses are ready,” he said, motioning to Guinevere and Lancelot’s horses. Guinevere loved her horse and knew she would be swift as the wind.

“Isn’t taking our own horses suspicious?” Guinevere whispered, although no one was around and the sounds of the Feast were still going in the distance.

“Not for Perceval and I. We are on patrol tonight, checking for rebellion. They will expect our horses to be gone. Yours will cause a stir, but they will not link it to us straight away,” Lancelot said.

“Arthur is not a fool,” Guinevere said.

“I know,” said Lancelot. “Which is why we will not have much of a head start. We must leave, now!” Without further words, he mounted his horse and trotted through the courtyard. Guinevere suddenly noticed the lack of patrolling guards. They should’ve raised the alarm. She suddenly saw dark, human shapes slumped against the castle walls in the deepest shadows.

“Did you kill them?” Guinevere asked, horrified.

“No. They were like that when I came to shoot the arrow. Asleep, deeply asleep. They will be punished in the morning,” Lancelot said grimly.

“But how?” She asked.

“I do not know,” Lancelot replied.

“Magic?” Guinevere asked. “Could Merlin…”

“I don’t know. Now come, we must ride swiftly!” Lancelot said and spurred his horse out through the gate along with Perceval.

With one last glance at the castle where she had been happy, once, where she had envisioned a bright future, Guinevere followed.

*****

They rode through the remainder of the night and all the next day. Guinevere ached from being in the saddle for so long but she knew any pain felt now was nothing compared to what would happen if Arthur caught her, especially with Lancelot. Arthur knew of the fealty that Lancelot had sworn to her, his Queen. She knew every knight honored and swore fealty to a woman, and knew the chastity of that vow. Neither Lancelot nor Guinevere would break that sacred bond of a Knight and his Lady, nor would they betray their King whom they loved above all others aside from God.

But Arthur, as he was now, would be consumed by jealousy, cruelty and obsession. He would accuse them of treason, then sentence them to Death.

*****

Perceval had broken off earlier to see if they were pursued. Night came again and Lancelot and Guinevere slowed as they came to the outskirts of a forest, far from anywhere. Both horses were breathing heavily and Guinevere could barely keep upright.

Lancelot dismounted and walked towards the forest’s borders.

“Salve Arthur Rex,” Lancelot said into the darkness.

There was a rustling and a hooded figure emerged.

“Lancelot, I am glad to see you made it,” the figure paused and looked towards Guinevere. “And you too, my gracious Queen.”

Guinevere nodded weakly, too tired to question anything.

The man led the horses through the forest along a trackless path, deeper and deeper in.

Eventually, they saw light from a large campfire in a clearing around which two people stood.

“My Lord,” said Lancelot, bowing his head and putting his fist to his chest at the tallest of the figures wearing a red, hooded cloak.

“Lancelot,” came the deep voice, strangely familiar

“And Guinevere, my Lady,” he said, striding towards her as though to embrace her.

Guinevere stepped back.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

With a chuckle, the figure pulled the hood back and Guinevere looked upon a face that was familiar, yet not.

“Mordred,” she whispered.

He was the very image of Arthur and looking at him made her heart hurt at the thought of all that had once been, and how much Arthur had loved Mordred, his son, before banishing him out of jealousy and spite.

Now Guinevere happily embraced him.

“And let’s not forget me,” came a sultry female voice.

She stepped into the firelight, a figure hugged by a purple dress, black markings adorning her skin. Her dark purple eyes gleamed in the firelight and her raven hair tumbled down her shoulders.

“Morgan le Fay,” Guinevere addressed her.

“Morganna, please. At least amongst old friends,” she said, holding out her arms.

Guinevere happily embraced her as well. Morganna bore Magic like Merlin’s, perhaps even rivalling him for power for she too had been banished, much to Merlin’s delight.

“Why are you both here?” Guinevere asked, sensing that she had stepped into a net that was slowly being reeled in.

The three of them, Lancelot included, had an air of sadness hanging over them.

“We are here to do what must be done, no matter the cost,” said Mordred. “Although we hope the cost will not be too high.”

Looking at the three of them, so solemn and serious, she asked the question.

“And what must be done?”

Morganna looked at Guinevere, her eyes deep pools.

“We must save Arthur.”