THE SWORD AND THE SQUIRE,
by Seth Frederiksen
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has "5387" words.
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A golden
sun rose from the earth, igniting a glorious menagerie of crimson, cerise, and
amber eventually coalescing into a majestic azure that hung over the city of
London. Commoners and nobles awoke to break their fast, greeted by wives,
children, pages, squires, apprentices, and thousands more of faces and
vocations that one mind could not know nor limit. Few had a sour demeanor, and
fewer still were kept slothful pace; those who tried were pushed into the great
bustle that infected the growing metropolis.
What made
the city so eager with such energy and mirth? A tourney was being held, the
grandest that had been seen in decades. Tilting and melees were expected of any
typical tourney, but what made this one event unique among the thousands of
tournaments held was a special prize; unknown to but a few, a secret occasion
would decide the fate of all Britannia. The old king had died without an heir more
than a decade ago and all of England was preparing for a maelstrom of wars and
invasions to earn the glory of the crown.
During the ten years that passed, save for a few minor clashes, no one lord attempted to claim the throne for themselves. Many wondered what prevented the great bloodshed that comprised much of the land’s history since the fall of the vile king, Gratian Municeps. Most had simply accepted the peace as it was, for few wanted any more destruction and felt it best not to try their chances.
Outside the city, the crickets chirping were accommodated with the soft singing of birds fluttering overhead. Blades of grass glistened in the sunlight as beads of the morning dew gave the fields of London’s farm a crystal-like glow. It was a scene of beauty far beyond the words of master bards and scribes, and a young squire watched this natural beauty with a tranquil mind and admiration.
He sat astride a horse, following his master and their father to the tourney, along with a grand retinue of young men looking to make their fame and fortune in the tourney. But the squire cared little of fame or fortune. Simple beauties always made his mind wander, as a child and now as a young man. He barely noticed his master calling out to him. “Arthur! Have a care, or we’ll let you house with the whores.”
Arthur turned to his master and beloved brother, Kay. Nudging his horse into a slow trot, he replied, “Perhaps they could give me a good education through their avocation?”
Kay chagrined, “Do that and father will have both our heads on pikes. And that might be after you lose some of your limbs from the women’s ‘parting gifts’.”
“Was that something you learned on crusade?” asked Arthur.
“Somewhat,” replied the young knight, “But I’ve seen such women from our home, not exactly of highest quality.”
“What are you two jabbering about?” asked their father, Sir Ector of the Savage Forest.
“Nothing, father,” the two men said in unison.
Their father had been a great knight within the court of King Uther. Raised as a page to the king’s brother, Aurelius Ambrosius, he had marched with the brothers in their war to reclaim their brother’s throne from the usurper, Vortigern. Sir Ector had fought in more battles than were written in the histories of the brothers’ reign. Only the war with Gorlois of Conrwall did Sir Ector distance himself from the war hungry Uther. Though many whispered why, few dared to confront the knight for the rift. Now Sir Ector was tired of the bloodletting, and he desired peace and quiet with his sons in the peaceful fields near the border of Cornwall.
This was his first journey to London since then partly due to duty to preserve the peace, and mostly because his sons wanted to experience their first true tourney. The boys had competed in tourneys before, back in Cornwall and the cities near the Savage Forest, but in all cases, the two would always eventually joust each other on the tourney field. Sir Ector chuckled at how the two boys, both under twenty years of age, were already known for their skills in combat. Many had come simply to watch both men compete against each other, though few ever saw a true winner leave the field. Both men would commit to a single pass and then yield to each other.
Sir Ector watched as a woman emptied her chamber pot while they passed under the ancient Lud Gate. He noted the bilious face she had when she spotted them marching under the gate. A warm welcome back indeed, he thought to himself, no wonder I never missed this cesspool of a city. Kay barked at the woman, who returned with a harsh retort of her own. Two of Sir Ector’s retinue had to hold the lad back as he tried to storm her home, a sword drawn and ready.
“Kay!” barked Sir Ector, “What in God’s name are you doing?”
“I’m about to teach this hag some badly needed manners,” replied Kay.
“And how is bursting through the door, and providing a thorough thrashing, going to accomplish that?” asked Sir Ector, glaring at his son.
Kay had to take a moment to respond, “It would make me feel better. Bloody hag.”
“Hag or no,” said Sir Ector, “Her lack of temper or proper comportment is no reason to perform a one man assault on her home. We are knights, not criminals. Besides, we can have her evicted if she provides anymore trouble.” Kay grimaced, but showed no resistance to Sir Ector’s argument. Arthur, avoiding the soiled spot the lady had made, noted how the house had the name of their destination.
“Oh come now!” declared Kay.
“No,” said Sir Ector, “I think the lad is right.”
“You’ve got to be… Arthur… damn it,” Kay said despondently.
“Oh be calm, boy,” said Sir Ector, “You’re complaining worse than your mother.”
“But couldn’t we find a place that’s…”
“That’s what?” Sir Ector was losing the last of his patience, Arthur began nudging his horse back to avoid receiving either’s wrath.
“Less…smelly” said Kay, looking at the soiled puddle.
Sir Ector cocked an eyebrow up. “I agree that the accommodations could be a bit fairer in the smells, but we agreed to reside here, and we will fulfill our promise. Arthur, do you have a problem?”
“As long as I don’t sleep on the puddle, I’m content, father,” said Arthur.
“It’s settled then,” said Sir Ector, “Ned, get the men together! We’ve arrived to our…honorable host.”
The soldier nodded and went to make the arrangements as Kay squinted at Arthur, “You had to agree with father, didn’t you?”
“Oh don’t be so obtuse,” replied Arthur, “Maybe the lady as a daughter who you can drink into marrying you?”
“You know Arthur,” said Kay, “Most squires would not dare of speaking to their masters in such a foul manner.”
“Yes,” replied Arthur, “But most knights are full of shit than they are of honor.”
“Well if you fail to become a knight,” said Sir Kay, “At least we can know you’d make a good bard, what with your elaborate ways of wooing admirers.”
Arthur noticed a small group of knights and ladies marching under a small causeway in the city wall. There was low mist emitting from the opening yet when Arthur looked out to the fields, there was not a cloud in the sky or any evidence of a fog forming. Arthur looked back to the group and noticed a lady riding with them. She was the fairest maiden he had ever seen. Gods must have envied her beauty, he thought. The riders noticed the squire, who raised his hand to them, they returned the gesture politely. She, however, appeared to ignore his presence. He wished for her to give him a slight glimpse, just to see what her eyes looked like.
“Arthur,” said Kay, “Don’t stare, you know that’s a rude habit.”
“I know,” said Arthur pointing to the maiden, “But look at her.”
Kay barely glanced at her as he turned back to Arthur. He spoke with authority, but Arthur could tell it was more for concern than exercising control. “You would do well to let this incident be. Those are not people to be trifled with.”
“Are they criminals?” asked Arthur.
“No,” said Kay, “At least not to my knowledge, but they are Fae, no doubt about that.”
“Fae,” said Arthur, “As in faeries?”
“I think ‘Faeries’ are what they call the womenfolk. Men are called Fae, regardless Arthur, it would be wise to stay clear of them. Those are a mysterious people. And sometimes it’s better to let the imagination of such mysteries live, than to die solving them.”
“But…they’re faeries,” insisted Arthur.
“All right then,” said Kay, “You go up to them, and call them a faerie. I’ll even pay you.”
Arthur looked at the company riding away, then back to Kay. “How much?”
“By Jesus, Arthur!” said Kay, smacking his head, “You amaze me.”
“You don’t seem to be amazed.”
“Because you’re an idiot,” said Kay, turning his horse back to the gate’s inn.
“Where are you going?”
“To get drunk and forget we had this conversation.”
The party enjoyed the nightly entertainment and cuisines. Kay avoided the hostess as often as possible, a desire the hostess herself appeared to share as well. Arthur attended to his tools of the trade, a long sword Sir Ector had given him for his last birthday, etched with the head of a dragon on the pummel. He had named it Dragon’s Fang, though Kay referred to it as ‘Dragon Pain’ when the two had their occasional rows. Kay gave Arthur his own short sword, Carnwennan, that he had used while fighting the Saracens. Arthur was checking the blade of Carnwennan as he thought of the Fae girl. There was little to think and maybe it was for the best. If they wanted to be left alone, what tribulations could be brought forth from one man’s intrusion?
The next day’s sun rose with the same glory as before, and men of counties, kingdoms, and nations readied themselves to win the glory of the tourney. Arthur and Kay, however, were more concerned with getting their equipment ready for the coming melee. Arthur had been in four melees and Kay had been in enough to stop counting altogether, and both knew full well the dangers that came with being in one. Arthur barely avoided being captured by a knight with a dishonorable strike to the groin, though Kay joked that it was done to preserve the honor of their household, thereby justifying the blow. To be captured meant to relinquish your armor, your sword, your horse, whatever amount of money the victor sets, and most of all, the honor and prestige of your house. Kay never fought dirty or with sinister tactics, but he never accepted the thought of surrender.
Both boys acted as a team in the melee, rarely leaving the other’s side. If they were next to each other, they could protect the other, avoiding the hands of knights who sought to win through cheating. One knight tried to pull Kay’s reins away from him when Arthur took a mace and struck the foe one the head. That knight’s ransom won Arthur his first full suit of armor. At another melee Kay saved Arthur from being taken by slamming the flat of his blade against the nose guard of the attacking knight. That knight’s ransom won Kay his most prized steed. Both men were known in the circuits for their prowess and devotion to another, and many competitors rarely tried to claim either of them for their own prize.
Kay was rummaging through his affects while Arthur was examining one of Kay’s lances when Kay noticed something was wrong. “Ah, damn it all to hell!” he exclaimed.
“What’s wrong?” asked Arthur.
“I forgot my sword,” said Kay.
“What?” cried Arthur, “Your sword! I checked it before we left!”
Kay was about to tell Arthur he had sharpened the blade one last time before they left and he had simply forgot to return it to the sheath, “I know, but…”
“How did I leave it?”
“Arthur?”
“I knew it was there,” Arthur was becoming hysterical, “I know it! I checked it before we left!”
“Arthur calm down,” said Kay, “I know you didn’t leave the, I must’ve forgo…”
“What are we going to do, Kay? You need your sword. You can’t fight without your sword!”
“Arthur, you’re being silly.”
“Oh my God! I fucked up!”
“Arthur! Language!”
“…And they’re going to laugh at us. And call us names. I don’t want to be called names, Kay. That’s not how we become knights! And you’re already a knight, so that is even worse for you. That may be fine for cobblers, but not knights!”
“Arthur,” said Kay, “Don’t make me do it.”
“They’ll think we’re pigs, or dogs, or jesters. I can’t be a jester, Kay, I can’t. Those hats don’t…,” said Arthur before Kay grabbed his tunic and smacked him across the face.
“I needed that,” said Arthur.
“All right then,” said Kay, “First things first. I need you to go back to the Inn…,”
“But no one’s inside, they’re all at the…,”
“…And check to see if you can get the sword. If not, then here are some gold coins to buy a new one. You know what to look for, right?”
“Uh, sharp and sturdy?”
“And a good handle.”
“Right, handle, sorry.”
“Now, we still have about three hours before I’m up. But let’s not dilly dally, all right? Go, go!”
Arthur rushed to his steed and bolted to the Inn. As he had argued, there was no one inside. He even tried to kick the door in, achieving only to injure his lower back, and some of his pride. Making his way to the marketplace, he found there was no one to sell their goods save for three drunken men who were still passed out in an alleyway. “Oh this isn’t good,” Arthur said to himself, “Kay’s going to have my head on a plate…and he might even eat it if he’s mad enough.”
Dismounting his steed, he ran from one venue to another, checking to see if they were open, or if they had left a sword to be taken. As much he wanted to avoid such a low form of acquiring a sword, Arthur was quickly running out of options. Within time, he began to grow flustered. How the hell can there be no one in this damn city who is open, he thought to himself, this is ridiculous! Scratching his head, he walked to the nearby fountain and looked in to see his reflection in the water. Next to his was the image of the Fae woman he saw the day before.
“How odd,” he said, trying to brush away the image with his hand. Yet the image still persisted. He tried to brush it away once more as the woman turned to him.
“Excuse me…,” before she could finish Arthur jumped back and landed on the ground.
“Jesus Christ!” he cried out.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, reaching out to him as he rose to his feet, “Are you hurt?”
“A tad sore, my lady. But I’ve had worse.”
“I thought you were trying to be obnoxious with the water,” she said.
“I thought you were a mental image, symbolizing my decent into madness,” Arthur realized what he said, “By which I meant no offense to you, my lady.”
She laughed, “Do not fret, good sir. I knew what you meant. But what is the matter?”
“Oh,” said Arthur, “My brother Kay lost his sword, and… well, I’m having some problem finding a decent replacement.”
“That is not a hard predicament, good sir.”
“It isn’t!” he said, “How so?”
“Why, there is a sword that is located in that courtyard by the church.”
“A sword, in a courtyard, by a church? That’s an odd combination when you think about it.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Well no, how do we get the sword?”
“You simply pull it out. Nothing more is required.”
“…Do we have to pay for this sword?”
“No, just pull it out, and that’s it.”
“Well, I guess beggars can’t be choosers, let’s go.”
The two arrived the courtyard behind the church, in the center stood a large stone, with an anvil on top, and both were linked by a sword that was inserted all the way to the hilt. Arthur, initially doubtful of the situation, was assured by the lady that this was still a respectable way of claiming a new sword. Approaching the sword, he gripped the blade firmly and even raised himself to be on top of the anvil, so he could better use his strength.
Gripping tightly, he gave a powerful heave on the handle, grunting as he pulled, and for the third time that day, he fell right onto his back. Rubbing the sore spot now along the lower part of his back, he noticed the sword was completely removed from the stone. He was stunned at out easy it had been to remove the blade. The lady clapped her hands joyfully at the sight. “Congratulations! You pulled the Sword from the Stone.”
“You act as if this is important.”
“Of course, now your brother can partake in the tourney.”
“Oh yes,” said Arthur, “Oh, I have a question.”
“Yes,” she said.
“Well two really. What brings the Fae of Britannia, first? And what is your name, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Oh,” she said with relief, “Well my father was a friend of Uther, when he and his brother were living in Lower Brittany, and he wanted to come see the tourney held in Uther’s honor. And for the other inquiry, my name is Gloriana.”
“Oh, that’s a pretty name.”
“Why thank you,” she said with a laugh, her cheeks began to glow red.
“Well, Lady Gloriana, I must get to my brother before he begins to worry.” Before he returned to his brother, Arthur turned back to Gloriana. “It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” she said sweetly.
Arthur returned to his brother who had been watching the matches of the jousts. Two of the knights had unhorsed each other and had begun to fight with their swords. “Have at ye!” shouted one knight as they both charged.
“Oh this is going to end well,” Kay chuckled to himself as he leaned back in his chair.
“Kay!” Arthur said, “Kay! I got a sword. Look!”
“Arthur!” said Kay as he caught a glimpse of the sword, “Well, looks like you found a good replacement. Where did you get it from?”
“Uh…A vendor,” Arthur said hesitantly.
“Really?”
“…No.”
“You stole it!” Kay said in shock.
“No! I didn’t. Gloriana showed it to me,” said Arthur.
“Oh, thank God…wait…Who’s Gloriana?”
“She’s the Fae princess we saw yesterday,” said Arthur.
“You…what did I tell you about the Fae?”
“She came to me, honest. And she’s quite polite, you know. She told me about the sword, and now we won’t dishonor the family.”
“Oh…all right then. So where did you get the sword from?”
“It was in a courtyard.”
“What courtyard?”
“That courtyard,” said Arthur as he pointed to seven different courtyards.
“Which courtyard, Arthur?”
“That courtyard over there,” said Arthur waving his hand, refusing to elaborate further.
“Arthur!”
“The one with the church! The one with the church!”
“…Wait…the church with the golden steeple?”
“…Yes.”
“…Take me there.”
“But you were watching the match.”
“Now!”
“Right, right. Sorry.”
The two arrived to the courtyard and Kay’s eyes widened as he neared the stone and anvil. He walked to the back of the anvil and stone and knelt down. Arthur followed shortly and noticed Kay was sweeping away dust and cobwebs. Kay had to pull out a knife to chip away some of the hardened dirt around a small plaque. Kay looked closer to the words on the tablet.
“What does it say,” Arthur asked.
“It says that the stone and anvil will serve as the test to all who claim to be High King of all Britannia.”
“High king?”
“It’s a king who all other kings answer to. Gorlois was the King of Cornwall, and he answered to King Uther.”
“Oh,” said Arthur, “Was that why Uther went to war with Gorlois?”
Kay looked at Arthur. “There were other reasons. But that’s a short reason why those two went to war.”
“Hmm,” said Arthur, “Hey Kay, look the sword has an inscription.”
“Really?”
“Aye, and it’s in Latin.”
“Let me take a look.”
“I can read it too.”
“True,” said Kay, “But you still need to refine your tenses and verbiage.”
Arthur handed Kay the sword again, and Kay read the inscription. “Dear God,” Kay whispered.
“What is it?”
“Whoso pulleth out this sword of this stone and anvil, is rightwise king born of all England. Arthur…do you know what this sword is?”
“No,” said Arthur, “And I am questioning whether or not I want to.”
“This is the Sword in the Stone.”
“Well…of course it is, it’s a…”
“No, Arthur. This is the sword in the stone.”
“I don’t follow you.”
“Oh sweet…This sword means your king!”
“What!”
“Congratulations Arthur, you’re the king. Course now that means we need to get you some nicer clothes.”
“I can’t be the king. I can’t be!”
“Why are you complaining?”
“I’m not a king. Kings are big and robust. I’m a twig. They’ll break me into two, or more.”
“I think you’re being hard on yourself, Arthur.”
“They’ll call me a fraud. A knave. A whoreson. A whoreson knave!”
“Well maybe the Orkneys, but they’re a bunch of arrogant pricks.”
“They’ll call me a traitor! They’ll say I’m trying to destroy the kingdoms.”
“Arthur? Are you all right?”
“They hang, drawn, and quarter me Kay!”
“Where are you getting this logic from? Is this what that man has been teaching you all these years?”
“I’ll be red Kay, red with my own blood. I don’t look good in red!”
“Actually you looked very sophisticated in that crimson tunic mother got last summer.”
“They’ll mark my name in infamy and shame!”
“Arthur, don’t make me smack you again.”
“What are we going to do Kay? Help me, Kay, help me!” Kay helped Arthur by grabbing him and smacking him once more.
“Oh,” said Arthur calmly, “I needed that…again.”
“So,” Kay said, “It seems you’re not ready for this just yet. In that case…we’ll tell father that I pulled the sword.”
“But you’re not the king.”
“And you obviously do not have the faculties to take in this information without acting as if you have lost your mind.”
“Touché.”
“We’ll go to father, tell him the news, you stay quiet and say nothing. And hope to God he buys this.”
“What if he makes us swear on the Bible?”
“I doubt he’ll go that far,” said Kay, hoping he was right.
The two boys returned to their father, and Kay told Sir Ector that he had pulled the Sword from the Stone. Sir Ector looked at the sword and back to Kay, he gave both an unconvinced look. Kay, suddenly remembered the night Arthur was brought to their castle, began to realize the potential problem with their cause, but thought he could still convince their father. Arthur, however, began to shake lightly as Sir Ector began to speak. “So, boys, you say that our glorious Kay has pulled the Sword from the Stone?”
“Yes father. That’s the sword, gave it a good pull and out it went.”
Arthur made peep, getting a sharp look from Kay. Sir Ector continued unabated. “And you two would swear that this is the truth.”
Kay turned back, making a smile and proud voice, “Yes father, we swear. That’s the truth, I pulled the Sword.”
“So, if I was to bring out this!” Sir Ector then held out the family’s ancient Bible. Kay squirmed before he regained his composure, but Arthur was now shaking more than before. “Would you two still swear that this is the truth?”
Kay leaned to Arthur, speaking in the lowest whisper possible, “Arthur, calm down, you’re going to give us away.”
Arthur could not reply, but look at the Bible in Sir Ector’s hand moving back and forth, up and down, a theological Sword of Damocles hovering over his head. Kay simply looked up, accepting his defeat since he knew full well what was about to happen. “For you two know the horrors that await you, if you both lie while swearing on this, most holy of scrip…,” before he could finish Arthur began screaming incoherently, flailing his arms without aim or direction. Grasping the sword from their father, Arthur rushed back to where the courtyard was. Many from the tourney noticed the boy running as Kay ordered their retainers to say that he had some untested spirits from a nearby apothecary. He then turned back to Sir Ector. “…This was why I said I pulled the sword,” Kay said with shame and embarrassment.
“I see that now,” said Sir Ector, realizing the situation he helped create, “What do we do with Arthur?”
“Make sure the little bastard doesn’t get himself killed,” said Kay has he strolled back to where Arthur had escaped, telling Sir Ector it would be best if they both went.
As the two arrived, they saw Arthur, his insanity in full display, trying to push the sword back into the stone. Only now, with each push down, the sword would refuse its master’s wish and jump up to half the blade’s height. Arthur, more desperate than ever, began pleading with the blade and punching it for not responding back, both Sir Ector and Kay looked at the scene with their concern growing by the moment. Sir Ector tried to talk Arthur back to sanity, but nothing worked.
Kay looked out to the open sky, and realized how to end Arthur’s attempt to sabotage his kingship. Taking a deep breath, and clearing his thoughts, he shouted out, “Merlin!”
A pop and a voice came from behind him, “Someone call m…what in the name of all that is holy?”
“Was this what you were teaching my brother?” asked Kay, as Arthur began beating the anvil with the sword.
“Most certainly not!” Merlin said defiantly, “I taught him how to be a king.”
“What form of kingship do you think Arthur should have?” exclaimed Kay, “He’s losing his mind faster than Uncle Dap with his loose mead spirits!”
“I see your point,” said Merlin, “Let me see if I can calm him down.” Merlin held out a hand and with a flick of his wrist, Arthur froze like the statues of the courtyard. Kay and Sir Ector took a breath of relief as they wondered what to do next. Merlin and Sir Kay then debated if Arthur was ready to be king. Sometimes Sir Ector thought Arthur was too young, then Merlin would say the same and they would reverse their arguments, making it hard for the conversation to end. Kay was having a difficult time keeping up with the conversation and decided to talk to Arthur, still frozen.
“Arthur,” said Kay, “Can you hear me?”
Arthur forced a yes from his lips.
“Listen,” said Kay, “You going to become a king either now or within a few years, but the time you become king won’t change what will happen once you make your claim. Maybe you would be better having some more years to grow, maybe not. God only knows. But Arthur, what I’m going to tell is serious, and I want you to take this seriously, all right?”
Arthur voiced his acknowledgment of what Kay said.
“Arthur…you’re father, he was a great man. But he had his enemies. Some hated him for his war with Vortigern, others hated him because…your father had many faults, others hated him because they were just shits. Regardless of why, they hated him when he was alive, they hate him now, and because of who you are, they will hate you. And these men; Lot, Uriens, Carados, the King with the Hundred Knights, they’re brutal warlords. They’ve killed many men. And if you want to be respected by your men, the men who you will be sending into the slaughter to defending you, then you are going to have to fight in these battles too. And Arthur, these aren’t the melees. Nothing can substitute a real battle, and nothing is ever certain in them. You’ve never seen the carnage of men ripping each other to pieces; hacking, cutting, swords, hammers, bills. It’s…it’s a slaughter house. And I can’t promise I’ll always be there to protect you. But you have to come to terms with what’s about to happen. And these men will never change because of your age. They will mobilize their armies as soon as you make your claim. So then, King Arthur, son of Uther, what say you?”
Arthur tried to speak, but had difficulty with Merlin’s spell on him. Kay told Merlin to lift the spell, and Arthur soon moved again freely. “I’m ready,” he said with certainty, “I am ready to be king.”
“Arthur,” said Sir Ector, “Are you sure?”
“Without question,” said Arthur, “My people need more than a leader, they need a king, someone who won’t march them from one war to another unless it is needed. And if the timing of my pronunciation does not refuse the chance of wars against those who will raise arms against me, then I must do it now, and end it quickly.”
Kay then held out his hand, “Let me have the sword, Arthur.”
Arthur and the others looked at him perplexed.
“Would any of you swear fealty to a squire?”
None argued, and Arthur lent his brother the sword and knelt.
“Arthur Pendragon, do you swear to defend all maidens from shame and dishonor? To only speak the truth? To show unwavering loyalty to your people, your kingdom, and your honor? To show devotion to God, to be charitable, to be brave, to show no fear, to be punctual, to be proud of your accomplishments, and never ever engage in an unfair fight with another opponent?”
“I swear,” said Arthur, “On my life and honor, I swear.”
“Then I, Kay, son of Ector de Forest, dub thee King Arthur Pendragon, Lord of all Britannia! Arise, and be greeted by your peers.” Arthur rose, as Kay lightly smacked him once more. “Let that be the last insult you take unheeded.”
Kay then embraced King Arthur, his voice breaking, Kay said, “I am show proud of you.”
The men soon went to the Tourney to inform all of Arthur’s rise to kingship. As they watched, Gloriana stood by a corner and spied, a spell hid her from the other’s gaze. “You should be more careful,” said her brother, Oberon.
“I did not do anything to create an incident,” she said.
“Aye, this time,” said Oberon with concern, “You know what this event will lead to, right?”
“I do,” Gloriana said, “But my heart feels light knowing this world will see a great man become a mighty king. And his legacy will continue for years even we cannot fathom.”
“Aye,” said Oberon, “But what of the price? To him…to you?”
“I am willing to sacrifice my life and my happiness, if it means that I can spend such few brief moments with him,” she turned back to Arthur, getting one last glimpse of him before he disappeared. “Why does life play such harsh games to those who simply want love for each other, brother?”
“I know not, beloved sister,” said Oberon, “Perhaps that is why there are mysteries that even we cannot solve.”
“You seem not to look harshly on him.”
“I feel no resentment to the man,” said Oberon, “Just for the calamities and tragedies he will bring to our house, and to his own.”
“Aye,” said Gloriana, “That is true, but also who know of what miracles it will bring, for his kingdom, and for ours.”
During the ten years that passed, save for a few minor clashes, no one lord attempted to claim the throne for themselves. Many wondered what prevented the great bloodshed that comprised much of the land’s history since the fall of the vile king, Gratian Municeps. Most had simply accepted the peace as it was, for few wanted any more destruction and felt it best not to try their chances.
Outside the city, the crickets chirping were accommodated with the soft singing of birds fluttering overhead. Blades of grass glistened in the sunlight as beads of the morning dew gave the fields of London’s farm a crystal-like glow. It was a scene of beauty far beyond the words of master bards and scribes, and a young squire watched this natural beauty with a tranquil mind and admiration.
He sat astride a horse, following his master and their father to the tourney, along with a grand retinue of young men looking to make their fame and fortune in the tourney. But the squire cared little of fame or fortune. Simple beauties always made his mind wander, as a child and now as a young man. He barely noticed his master calling out to him. “Arthur! Have a care, or we’ll let you house with the whores.”
Arthur turned to his master and beloved brother, Kay. Nudging his horse into a slow trot, he replied, “Perhaps they could give me a good education through their avocation?”
Kay chagrined, “Do that and father will have both our heads on pikes. And that might be after you lose some of your limbs from the women’s ‘parting gifts’.”
“Was that something you learned on crusade?” asked Arthur.
“Somewhat,” replied the young knight, “But I’ve seen such women from our home, not exactly of highest quality.”
“What are you two jabbering about?” asked their father, Sir Ector of the Savage Forest.
“Nothing, father,” the two men said in unison.
Their father had been a great knight within the court of King Uther. Raised as a page to the king’s brother, Aurelius Ambrosius, he had marched with the brothers in their war to reclaim their brother’s throne from the usurper, Vortigern. Sir Ector had fought in more battles than were written in the histories of the brothers’ reign. Only the war with Gorlois of Conrwall did Sir Ector distance himself from the war hungry Uther. Though many whispered why, few dared to confront the knight for the rift. Now Sir Ector was tired of the bloodletting, and he desired peace and quiet with his sons in the peaceful fields near the border of Cornwall.
This was his first journey to London since then partly due to duty to preserve the peace, and mostly because his sons wanted to experience their first true tourney. The boys had competed in tourneys before, back in Cornwall and the cities near the Savage Forest, but in all cases, the two would always eventually joust each other on the tourney field. Sir Ector chuckled at how the two boys, both under twenty years of age, were already known for their skills in combat. Many had come simply to watch both men compete against each other, though few ever saw a true winner leave the field. Both men would commit to a single pass and then yield to each other.
Sir Ector watched as a woman emptied her chamber pot while they passed under the ancient Lud Gate. He noted the bilious face she had when she spotted them marching under the gate. A warm welcome back indeed, he thought to himself, no wonder I never missed this cesspool of a city. Kay barked at the woman, who returned with a harsh retort of her own. Two of Sir Ector’s retinue had to hold the lad back as he tried to storm her home, a sword drawn and ready.
“Kay!” barked Sir Ector, “What in God’s name are you doing?”
“I’m about to teach this hag some badly needed manners,” replied Kay.
“And how is bursting through the door, and providing a thorough thrashing, going to accomplish that?” asked Sir Ector, glaring at his son.
Kay had to take a moment to respond, “It would make me feel better. Bloody hag.”
“Hag or no,” said Sir Ector, “Her lack of temper or proper comportment is no reason to perform a one man assault on her home. We are knights, not criminals. Besides, we can have her evicted if she provides anymore trouble.” Kay grimaced, but showed no resistance to Sir Ector’s argument. Arthur, avoiding the soiled spot the lady had made, noted how the house had the name of their destination.
“Oh come now!” declared Kay.
“No,” said Sir Ector, “I think the lad is right.”
“You’ve got to be… Arthur… damn it,” Kay said despondently.
“Oh be calm, boy,” said Sir Ector, “You’re complaining worse than your mother.”
“But couldn’t we find a place that’s…”
“That’s what?” Sir Ector was losing the last of his patience, Arthur began nudging his horse back to avoid receiving either’s wrath.
“Less…smelly” said Kay, looking at the soiled puddle.
Sir Ector cocked an eyebrow up. “I agree that the accommodations could be a bit fairer in the smells, but we agreed to reside here, and we will fulfill our promise. Arthur, do you have a problem?”
“As long as I don’t sleep on the puddle, I’m content, father,” said Arthur.
“It’s settled then,” said Sir Ector, “Ned, get the men together! We’ve arrived to our…honorable host.”
The soldier nodded and went to make the arrangements as Kay squinted at Arthur, “You had to agree with father, didn’t you?”
“Oh don’t be so obtuse,” replied Arthur, “Maybe the lady as a daughter who you can drink into marrying you?”
“You know Arthur,” said Kay, “Most squires would not dare of speaking to their masters in such a foul manner.”
“Yes,” replied Arthur, “But most knights are full of shit than they are of honor.”
“Well if you fail to become a knight,” said Sir Kay, “At least we can know you’d make a good bard, what with your elaborate ways of wooing admirers.”
Arthur noticed a small group of knights and ladies marching under a small causeway in the city wall. There was low mist emitting from the opening yet when Arthur looked out to the fields, there was not a cloud in the sky or any evidence of a fog forming. Arthur looked back to the group and noticed a lady riding with them. She was the fairest maiden he had ever seen. Gods must have envied her beauty, he thought. The riders noticed the squire, who raised his hand to them, they returned the gesture politely. She, however, appeared to ignore his presence. He wished for her to give him a slight glimpse, just to see what her eyes looked like.
“Arthur,” said Kay, “Don’t stare, you know that’s a rude habit.”
“I know,” said Arthur pointing to the maiden, “But look at her.”
Kay barely glanced at her as he turned back to Arthur. He spoke with authority, but Arthur could tell it was more for concern than exercising control. “You would do well to let this incident be. Those are not people to be trifled with.”
“Are they criminals?” asked Arthur.
“No,” said Kay, “At least not to my knowledge, but they are Fae, no doubt about that.”
“Fae,” said Arthur, “As in faeries?”
“I think ‘Faeries’ are what they call the womenfolk. Men are called Fae, regardless Arthur, it would be wise to stay clear of them. Those are a mysterious people. And sometimes it’s better to let the imagination of such mysteries live, than to die solving them.”
“But…they’re faeries,” insisted Arthur.
“All right then,” said Kay, “You go up to them, and call them a faerie. I’ll even pay you.”
Arthur looked at the company riding away, then back to Kay. “How much?”
“By Jesus, Arthur!” said Kay, smacking his head, “You amaze me.”
“You don’t seem to be amazed.”
“Because you’re an idiot,” said Kay, turning his horse back to the gate’s inn.
“Where are you going?”
“To get drunk and forget we had this conversation.”
The party enjoyed the nightly entertainment and cuisines. Kay avoided the hostess as often as possible, a desire the hostess herself appeared to share as well. Arthur attended to his tools of the trade, a long sword Sir Ector had given him for his last birthday, etched with the head of a dragon on the pummel. He had named it Dragon’s Fang, though Kay referred to it as ‘Dragon Pain’ when the two had their occasional rows. Kay gave Arthur his own short sword, Carnwennan, that he had used while fighting the Saracens. Arthur was checking the blade of Carnwennan as he thought of the Fae girl. There was little to think and maybe it was for the best. If they wanted to be left alone, what tribulations could be brought forth from one man’s intrusion?
The next day’s sun rose with the same glory as before, and men of counties, kingdoms, and nations readied themselves to win the glory of the tourney. Arthur and Kay, however, were more concerned with getting their equipment ready for the coming melee. Arthur had been in four melees and Kay had been in enough to stop counting altogether, and both knew full well the dangers that came with being in one. Arthur barely avoided being captured by a knight with a dishonorable strike to the groin, though Kay joked that it was done to preserve the honor of their household, thereby justifying the blow. To be captured meant to relinquish your armor, your sword, your horse, whatever amount of money the victor sets, and most of all, the honor and prestige of your house. Kay never fought dirty or with sinister tactics, but he never accepted the thought of surrender.
Both boys acted as a team in the melee, rarely leaving the other’s side. If they were next to each other, they could protect the other, avoiding the hands of knights who sought to win through cheating. One knight tried to pull Kay’s reins away from him when Arthur took a mace and struck the foe one the head. That knight’s ransom won Arthur his first full suit of armor. At another melee Kay saved Arthur from being taken by slamming the flat of his blade against the nose guard of the attacking knight. That knight’s ransom won Kay his most prized steed. Both men were known in the circuits for their prowess and devotion to another, and many competitors rarely tried to claim either of them for their own prize.
Kay was rummaging through his affects while Arthur was examining one of Kay’s lances when Kay noticed something was wrong. “Ah, damn it all to hell!” he exclaimed.
“What’s wrong?” asked Arthur.
“I forgot my sword,” said Kay.
“What?” cried Arthur, “Your sword! I checked it before we left!”
Kay was about to tell Arthur he had sharpened the blade one last time before they left and he had simply forgot to return it to the sheath, “I know, but…”
“How did I leave it?”
“Arthur?”
“I knew it was there,” Arthur was becoming hysterical, “I know it! I checked it before we left!”
“Arthur calm down,” said Kay, “I know you didn’t leave the, I must’ve forgo…”
“What are we going to do, Kay? You need your sword. You can’t fight without your sword!”
“Arthur, you’re being silly.”
“Oh my God! I fucked up!”
“Arthur! Language!”
“…And they’re going to laugh at us. And call us names. I don’t want to be called names, Kay. That’s not how we become knights! And you’re already a knight, so that is even worse for you. That may be fine for cobblers, but not knights!”
“Arthur,” said Kay, “Don’t make me do it.”
“They’ll think we’re pigs, or dogs, or jesters. I can’t be a jester, Kay, I can’t. Those hats don’t…,” said Arthur before Kay grabbed his tunic and smacked him across the face.
“I needed that,” said Arthur.
“All right then,” said Kay, “First things first. I need you to go back to the Inn…,”
“But no one’s inside, they’re all at the…,”
“…And check to see if you can get the sword. If not, then here are some gold coins to buy a new one. You know what to look for, right?”
“Uh, sharp and sturdy?”
“And a good handle.”
“Right, handle, sorry.”
“Now, we still have about three hours before I’m up. But let’s not dilly dally, all right? Go, go!”
Arthur rushed to his steed and bolted to the Inn. As he had argued, there was no one inside. He even tried to kick the door in, achieving only to injure his lower back, and some of his pride. Making his way to the marketplace, he found there was no one to sell their goods save for three drunken men who were still passed out in an alleyway. “Oh this isn’t good,” Arthur said to himself, “Kay’s going to have my head on a plate…and he might even eat it if he’s mad enough.”
Dismounting his steed, he ran from one venue to another, checking to see if they were open, or if they had left a sword to be taken. As much he wanted to avoid such a low form of acquiring a sword, Arthur was quickly running out of options. Within time, he began to grow flustered. How the hell can there be no one in this damn city who is open, he thought to himself, this is ridiculous! Scratching his head, he walked to the nearby fountain and looked in to see his reflection in the water. Next to his was the image of the Fae woman he saw the day before.
“How odd,” he said, trying to brush away the image with his hand. Yet the image still persisted. He tried to brush it away once more as the woman turned to him.
“Excuse me…,” before she could finish Arthur jumped back and landed on the ground.
“Jesus Christ!” he cried out.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, reaching out to him as he rose to his feet, “Are you hurt?”
“A tad sore, my lady. But I’ve had worse.”
“I thought you were trying to be obnoxious with the water,” she said.
“I thought you were a mental image, symbolizing my decent into madness,” Arthur realized what he said, “By which I meant no offense to you, my lady.”
She laughed, “Do not fret, good sir. I knew what you meant. But what is the matter?”
“Oh,” said Arthur, “My brother Kay lost his sword, and… well, I’m having some problem finding a decent replacement.”
“That is not a hard predicament, good sir.”
“It isn’t!” he said, “How so?”
“Why, there is a sword that is located in that courtyard by the church.”
“A sword, in a courtyard, by a church? That’s an odd combination when you think about it.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Well no, how do we get the sword?”
“You simply pull it out. Nothing more is required.”
“…Do we have to pay for this sword?”
“No, just pull it out, and that’s it.”
“Well, I guess beggars can’t be choosers, let’s go.”
The two arrived the courtyard behind the church, in the center stood a large stone, with an anvil on top, and both were linked by a sword that was inserted all the way to the hilt. Arthur, initially doubtful of the situation, was assured by the lady that this was still a respectable way of claiming a new sword. Approaching the sword, he gripped the blade firmly and even raised himself to be on top of the anvil, so he could better use his strength.
Gripping tightly, he gave a powerful heave on the handle, grunting as he pulled, and for the third time that day, he fell right onto his back. Rubbing the sore spot now along the lower part of his back, he noticed the sword was completely removed from the stone. He was stunned at out easy it had been to remove the blade. The lady clapped her hands joyfully at the sight. “Congratulations! You pulled the Sword from the Stone.”
“You act as if this is important.”
“Of course, now your brother can partake in the tourney.”
“Oh yes,” said Arthur, “Oh, I have a question.”
“Yes,” she said.
“Well two really. What brings the Fae of Britannia, first? And what is your name, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Oh,” she said with relief, “Well my father was a friend of Uther, when he and his brother were living in Lower Brittany, and he wanted to come see the tourney held in Uther’s honor. And for the other inquiry, my name is Gloriana.”
“Oh, that’s a pretty name.”
“Why thank you,” she said with a laugh, her cheeks began to glow red.
“Well, Lady Gloriana, I must get to my brother before he begins to worry.” Before he returned to his brother, Arthur turned back to Gloriana. “It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” she said sweetly.
Arthur returned to his brother who had been watching the matches of the jousts. Two of the knights had unhorsed each other and had begun to fight with their swords. “Have at ye!” shouted one knight as they both charged.
“Oh this is going to end well,” Kay chuckled to himself as he leaned back in his chair.
“Kay!” Arthur said, “Kay! I got a sword. Look!”
“Arthur!” said Kay as he caught a glimpse of the sword, “Well, looks like you found a good replacement. Where did you get it from?”
“Uh…A vendor,” Arthur said hesitantly.
“Really?”
“…No.”
“You stole it!” Kay said in shock.
“No! I didn’t. Gloriana showed it to me,” said Arthur.
“Oh, thank God…wait…Who’s Gloriana?”
“She’s the Fae princess we saw yesterday,” said Arthur.
“You…what did I tell you about the Fae?”
“She came to me, honest. And she’s quite polite, you know. She told me about the sword, and now we won’t dishonor the family.”
“Oh…all right then. So where did you get the sword from?”
“It was in a courtyard.”
“What courtyard?”
“That courtyard,” said Arthur as he pointed to seven different courtyards.
“Which courtyard, Arthur?”
“That courtyard over there,” said Arthur waving his hand, refusing to elaborate further.
“Arthur!”
“The one with the church! The one with the church!”
“…Wait…the church with the golden steeple?”
“…Yes.”
“…Take me there.”
“But you were watching the match.”
“Now!”
“Right, right. Sorry.”
The two arrived to the courtyard and Kay’s eyes widened as he neared the stone and anvil. He walked to the back of the anvil and stone and knelt down. Arthur followed shortly and noticed Kay was sweeping away dust and cobwebs. Kay had to pull out a knife to chip away some of the hardened dirt around a small plaque. Kay looked closer to the words on the tablet.
“What does it say,” Arthur asked.
“It says that the stone and anvil will serve as the test to all who claim to be High King of all Britannia.”
“High king?”
“It’s a king who all other kings answer to. Gorlois was the King of Cornwall, and he answered to King Uther.”
“Oh,” said Arthur, “Was that why Uther went to war with Gorlois?”
Kay looked at Arthur. “There were other reasons. But that’s a short reason why those two went to war.”
“Hmm,” said Arthur, “Hey Kay, look the sword has an inscription.”
“Really?”
“Aye, and it’s in Latin.”
“Let me take a look.”
“I can read it too.”
“True,” said Kay, “But you still need to refine your tenses and verbiage.”
Arthur handed Kay the sword again, and Kay read the inscription. “Dear God,” Kay whispered.
“What is it?”
“Whoso pulleth out this sword of this stone and anvil, is rightwise king born of all England. Arthur…do you know what this sword is?”
“No,” said Arthur, “And I am questioning whether or not I want to.”
“This is the Sword in the Stone.”
“Well…of course it is, it’s a…”
“No, Arthur. This is the sword in the stone.”
“I don’t follow you.”
“Oh sweet…This sword means your king!”
“What!”
“Congratulations Arthur, you’re the king. Course now that means we need to get you some nicer clothes.”
“I can’t be the king. I can’t be!”
“Why are you complaining?”
“I’m not a king. Kings are big and robust. I’m a twig. They’ll break me into two, or more.”
“I think you’re being hard on yourself, Arthur.”
“They’ll call me a fraud. A knave. A whoreson. A whoreson knave!”
“Well maybe the Orkneys, but they’re a bunch of arrogant pricks.”
“They’ll call me a traitor! They’ll say I’m trying to destroy the kingdoms.”
“Arthur? Are you all right?”
“They hang, drawn, and quarter me Kay!”
“Where are you getting this logic from? Is this what that man has been teaching you all these years?”
“I’ll be red Kay, red with my own blood. I don’t look good in red!”
“Actually you looked very sophisticated in that crimson tunic mother got last summer.”
“They’ll mark my name in infamy and shame!”
“Arthur, don’t make me smack you again.”
“What are we going to do Kay? Help me, Kay, help me!” Kay helped Arthur by grabbing him and smacking him once more.
“Oh,” said Arthur calmly, “I needed that…again.”
“So,” Kay said, “It seems you’re not ready for this just yet. In that case…we’ll tell father that I pulled the sword.”
“But you’re not the king.”
“And you obviously do not have the faculties to take in this information without acting as if you have lost your mind.”
“Touché.”
“We’ll go to father, tell him the news, you stay quiet and say nothing. And hope to God he buys this.”
“What if he makes us swear on the Bible?”
“I doubt he’ll go that far,” said Kay, hoping he was right.
The two boys returned to their father, and Kay told Sir Ector that he had pulled the Sword from the Stone. Sir Ector looked at the sword and back to Kay, he gave both an unconvinced look. Kay, suddenly remembered the night Arthur was brought to their castle, began to realize the potential problem with their cause, but thought he could still convince their father. Arthur, however, began to shake lightly as Sir Ector began to speak. “So, boys, you say that our glorious Kay has pulled the Sword from the Stone?”
“Yes father. That’s the sword, gave it a good pull and out it went.”
Arthur made peep, getting a sharp look from Kay. Sir Ector continued unabated. “And you two would swear that this is the truth.”
Kay turned back, making a smile and proud voice, “Yes father, we swear. That’s the truth, I pulled the Sword.”
“So, if I was to bring out this!” Sir Ector then held out the family’s ancient Bible. Kay squirmed before he regained his composure, but Arthur was now shaking more than before. “Would you two still swear that this is the truth?”
Kay leaned to Arthur, speaking in the lowest whisper possible, “Arthur, calm down, you’re going to give us away.”
Arthur could not reply, but look at the Bible in Sir Ector’s hand moving back and forth, up and down, a theological Sword of Damocles hovering over his head. Kay simply looked up, accepting his defeat since he knew full well what was about to happen. “For you two know the horrors that await you, if you both lie while swearing on this, most holy of scrip…,” before he could finish Arthur began screaming incoherently, flailing his arms without aim or direction. Grasping the sword from their father, Arthur rushed back to where the courtyard was. Many from the tourney noticed the boy running as Kay ordered their retainers to say that he had some untested spirits from a nearby apothecary. He then turned back to Sir Ector. “…This was why I said I pulled the sword,” Kay said with shame and embarrassment.
“I see that now,” said Sir Ector, realizing the situation he helped create, “What do we do with Arthur?”
“Make sure the little bastard doesn’t get himself killed,” said Kay has he strolled back to where Arthur had escaped, telling Sir Ector it would be best if they both went.
As the two arrived, they saw Arthur, his insanity in full display, trying to push the sword back into the stone. Only now, with each push down, the sword would refuse its master’s wish and jump up to half the blade’s height. Arthur, more desperate than ever, began pleading with the blade and punching it for not responding back, both Sir Ector and Kay looked at the scene with their concern growing by the moment. Sir Ector tried to talk Arthur back to sanity, but nothing worked.
Kay looked out to the open sky, and realized how to end Arthur’s attempt to sabotage his kingship. Taking a deep breath, and clearing his thoughts, he shouted out, “Merlin!”
A pop and a voice came from behind him, “Someone call m…what in the name of all that is holy?”
“Was this what you were teaching my brother?” asked Kay, as Arthur began beating the anvil with the sword.
“Most certainly not!” Merlin said defiantly, “I taught him how to be a king.”
“What form of kingship do you think Arthur should have?” exclaimed Kay, “He’s losing his mind faster than Uncle Dap with his loose mead spirits!”
“I see your point,” said Merlin, “Let me see if I can calm him down.” Merlin held out a hand and with a flick of his wrist, Arthur froze like the statues of the courtyard. Kay and Sir Ector took a breath of relief as they wondered what to do next. Merlin and Sir Kay then debated if Arthur was ready to be king. Sometimes Sir Ector thought Arthur was too young, then Merlin would say the same and they would reverse their arguments, making it hard for the conversation to end. Kay was having a difficult time keeping up with the conversation and decided to talk to Arthur, still frozen.
“Arthur,” said Kay, “Can you hear me?”
Arthur forced a yes from his lips.
“Listen,” said Kay, “You going to become a king either now or within a few years, but the time you become king won’t change what will happen once you make your claim. Maybe you would be better having some more years to grow, maybe not. God only knows. But Arthur, what I’m going to tell is serious, and I want you to take this seriously, all right?”
Arthur voiced his acknowledgment of what Kay said.
“Arthur…you’re father, he was a great man. But he had his enemies. Some hated him for his war with Vortigern, others hated him because…your father had many faults, others hated him because they were just shits. Regardless of why, they hated him when he was alive, they hate him now, and because of who you are, they will hate you. And these men; Lot, Uriens, Carados, the King with the Hundred Knights, they’re brutal warlords. They’ve killed many men. And if you want to be respected by your men, the men who you will be sending into the slaughter to defending you, then you are going to have to fight in these battles too. And Arthur, these aren’t the melees. Nothing can substitute a real battle, and nothing is ever certain in them. You’ve never seen the carnage of men ripping each other to pieces; hacking, cutting, swords, hammers, bills. It’s…it’s a slaughter house. And I can’t promise I’ll always be there to protect you. But you have to come to terms with what’s about to happen. And these men will never change because of your age. They will mobilize their armies as soon as you make your claim. So then, King Arthur, son of Uther, what say you?”
Arthur tried to speak, but had difficulty with Merlin’s spell on him. Kay told Merlin to lift the spell, and Arthur soon moved again freely. “I’m ready,” he said with certainty, “I am ready to be king.”
“Arthur,” said Sir Ector, “Are you sure?”
“Without question,” said Arthur, “My people need more than a leader, they need a king, someone who won’t march them from one war to another unless it is needed. And if the timing of my pronunciation does not refuse the chance of wars against those who will raise arms against me, then I must do it now, and end it quickly.”
Kay then held out his hand, “Let me have the sword, Arthur.”
Arthur and the others looked at him perplexed.
“Would any of you swear fealty to a squire?”
None argued, and Arthur lent his brother the sword and knelt.
“Arthur Pendragon, do you swear to defend all maidens from shame and dishonor? To only speak the truth? To show unwavering loyalty to your people, your kingdom, and your honor? To show devotion to God, to be charitable, to be brave, to show no fear, to be punctual, to be proud of your accomplishments, and never ever engage in an unfair fight with another opponent?”
“I swear,” said Arthur, “On my life and honor, I swear.”
“Then I, Kay, son of Ector de Forest, dub thee King Arthur Pendragon, Lord of all Britannia! Arise, and be greeted by your peers.” Arthur rose, as Kay lightly smacked him once more. “Let that be the last insult you take unheeded.”
Kay then embraced King Arthur, his voice breaking, Kay said, “I am show proud of you.”
The men soon went to the Tourney to inform all of Arthur’s rise to kingship. As they watched, Gloriana stood by a corner and spied, a spell hid her from the other’s gaze. “You should be more careful,” said her brother, Oberon.
“I did not do anything to create an incident,” she said.
“Aye, this time,” said Oberon with concern, “You know what this event will lead to, right?”
“I do,” Gloriana said, “But my heart feels light knowing this world will see a great man become a mighty king. And his legacy will continue for years even we cannot fathom.”
“Aye,” said Oberon, “But what of the price? To him…to you?”
“I am willing to sacrifice my life and my happiness, if it means that I can spend such few brief moments with him,” she turned back to Arthur, getting one last glimpse of him before he disappeared. “Why does life play such harsh games to those who simply want love for each other, brother?”
“I know not, beloved sister,” said Oberon, “Perhaps that is why there are mysteries that even we cannot solve.”
“You seem not to look harshly on him.”
“I feel no resentment to the man,” said Oberon, “Just for the calamities and tragedies he will bring to our house, and to his own.”
“Aye,” said Gloriana, “That is true, but also who know of what miracles it will bring, for his kingdom, and for ours.”
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About the Author: A writer, blogger, martial artists, and appreciator of a fine nap; Seth Frederiksen is a constant connoisseur of rich and full stories. Naive and loyal until the inner Viking decides that enough is enough. He lives in North Carolina, working on his master’s in history and hoping to achieve the impossible dream of all writers: getting published and getting an apartment. If you’d like to connect with Seth on his adventures and such and for updates on his current projects, check out his blog at: wardragonrising.blogspot.com
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