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ELSE AND I MOVED fast enough not to annoy any of her cheerful relatives, because neither of us felt a desire to touch beyond the usual. We were careful however to maintain as much distance as possible. I realised my clarity and strength as a warrior were hampered by her presence but that very presence brought me a sense of peace and I needed to maintain control and focus. When the morning arrived for us to declare ourselves at Camelot we were both nervous and I realised I’d begun to ache for her.
“Try to stay calm,” she said, tightening the straps on my breastplate. The armour did not fit me as well as my own and I found it hard to adjust to the changes it forced in my fighting. I made a non-committal noise to her request.
She stepped back and surveyed her work. Then she looked up at me. “I know it’s hard.”
“Hard? I’m about to challenge my King to combat. Hard isn’t the word.”
“The more agitated you become the difficult it is for us to control our desire.” She frowned and fussed with more straps.
I grasped her hands and brought her fingers to my lips. I watched her eyes widen, the spell raced into me from the soft contact we shared. I kissed her fingers. The rough leather of my gloves and the weight of the metal plates covering my hands, made me feel strong. The faith I had in this small creature standing before me, made me both invulnerable and terribly weak at the same time.
“Else, what you mean to me...” I whispered.
She gasped and struggled uselessly against my grip. “This,” she swallowed trying to gain control over her own desire. “This really isn’t helping.”
I smiled and released her, just as the pain of her contact became too much for me to bear without taking things further.
“No, but it does remind me how much I have to lose if I don’t make Arthur listen.” A soft clank accompanied my movements as I picked up my sword, strapping it to my waist.
I watched Else put on her hat, she spent an age forcing her female curves into the narrow straight lines of a youth. She tucked her growing curls under the hat having lost the argument when she’d offered to cut it short once more. She moved around picking up my sallet and snapping the visor down. I felt a wave of peace wash through me, like a fresh breeze full of the scent of rose blossom. We were on the right path and I would be with my King once more, soon to have my wife at my side in more than just name. The sense of optimism felt almost alien to me, it had been so long since I’d sensed hope and joy over the horizon. It made me heady and confident. I smiled as Else, pulled on the soft padded coif, which protected my head under the great helmet, the final part of my disguise. She frowned at me, wondering why I smiled so broadly, I just smiled wider making her shake her head and laugh. Her laughter reminded me of the softest of raindrops after a drought.
Ash whinnied and stamped as I approached, he knew armour meant war or games involving war. I stroked his now black neck, “Sorry, old man, this one is for politics. Tomorrow we will joust, I promise.” My words didn’t stop him bouncing around like a fresh colt as soon as I lifted myself into the saddle.
Else swung into Mercury’s saddle and we headed toward Camelot’s imposing walls. From our position, the estuary remained obscured behind Camelot and the sea glittered to our left, the last of the fields rolled downward in gentle greeting on this particular day.
Camelot is a strange place, part palace, part castle and all city. With the Pendragon bloodline going back many generations as England’s kings, it had grown and spread over decades. Arthur, a man who sought unity in all things, tried to blend the exaggerated fortified keep of his grandfather with the overblown palatial influences of his father’s period. As such, there sat like a brooding hen the glowering tower of the central keep, high on the hill, overlooking the River Cleddau. The mighty keep evolved to be greater in height and width than any other in the country. The dark stone gave it a menacing air. Circling this was a wall, fifty feet high and heavily crenulated, with huge doors, gatehouses, a moat and drawbridges. There were squat round towers placed evenly around the walls, designed to make it hard for trebuchets and sappers if anyone laid siege to the keep. These walls would not fall. Beyond the traditional structure, there sprang throughout Uther’s reign, large villas. Two and three storey buildings of dressed white stone with columns, courtyards, fountains and gardens. Their red tiled roofs made them look like a ploughed field when viewed from the surrounding hills. These homes belonged to the powerful and wealthy of Camelot and cascaded down from the keep’s mighty wall.
The lower classes, right down to the villeins and serfs, lived in traditional homes. Heavy stone and wood, wattle and daub, thatch roofs and wooden lean-tos. With crazy streets, from narrow lanes almost too small to walk through, up to wide roads forced through various quarters by the government, the streets contained the blood pumping life to the heart. Many of these roads were paved, but most of the lanes were not, so the mud filtered throughout the city.
Arthur, as his token, tried to encourage the building of good drainage, sensible water supply to the city and proper housing for the vast network of poor who lived in his city. He built sensible low level buildings and tried to improve the roads. His finer buildings emphasised his desire to reach for the ideal of kingship. Over the last fifteen years, he’d ordered the building of community centres, churches and municipal markets. They were all of the same style, high arches allowing light to filter into all buildings, huge spires and flying buttresses to hold the walls and columns in place. They were vast buildings of beautiful proportions. This mismatched city housed thousands of people and Arthur lived with his court in the keep itself.
Else and I rode through the noisy throng in the streets toward the imposing walls. Ash stomped prettily as people, both rich and poor, stared at the black knight. Else rode ahead of me, holding the banner, which snapped in the breeze, the Wolf’s head undulating. The day dawned bright but cold and I felt the steel cage surrounding me, leeching the warmth from my body as I rode. Word would race ahead that a black knight walked toward the keep. Arthur would be waiting. The idea of the black knight is simple, you hide your identity for several reasons; you are from a foreign court and want to join Camelot under your own steam, not because of reputation. Or, you need to ask a boon of your king without judgement on your family crest. Or you are a criminal asking forgiveness. Guess which category I fell into? The Wolf’s head indicated I stood outside the law of at least one kingdom and yet I hoped it spoke more personally to Arthur.
We rode at a steady walk up the hill and I began to realise Camelot felt different. It wasn’t the oncoming winter and all the trials it brings, it was something else. Something unnameable, a sense of dread? I hesitated to use the word but I saw fear lurking in the eyes of more than one person as I stared through the narrow slits of the visor. Why were these people afraid? This was Camelot, the centre of Arthur’s crown and his jewel.
We reached the moat, the bridges and the wall. Guards stood in pairs at each end of the bridge and stopped Else from continuing by crossing their spears. They wore the gold and blue of Arthur’s colours, their tabards stitched with the insignia of an oak tree, a crown encircling the trunk. When I joined Arthur as a knight, he gave me the emblem of the ash tree saying, ‘Where there is oak, there is ash, my friend.’ The memory hurt.
“Halt,” the guard said. “State your business.”
We had agreed I’d leave all the talking to Else. Too many people knew my voice, so I sat mute and she laid our case before the guard.
“We are here to speak to King Arthur. My Lord wishes to challenge his right to join the Court as is his prerogative,” Else said just as I taught her.
The men should have broken ranks and allowed us through without further comment, instead they stayed still. The man spoke again, “If you are not a knight of our Court, you are not welcome here. Leave now and you can go in peace.”
Else fidgeted but barely paused, “Since when are noble men unable to offer themselves for the King’s judgement? We are here to offer trial by combat so my Lord can prove his worth to the best of kings. We are not here to offer harm.”
I had not anticipated this, the thought of not seeing Arthur at all made my hands begin to sweat and stomach roll.
Else pushed Mercury forward, she leaned down from her saddle and the guard approached. The visor obscured my view so I couldn’t see what she did as he approached but he said, “Let them through, they are of noble blood and mean no harm.” I think she caressed his face.
I rode past and I stared down at the guard. His eyes were slightly glazed and he stood a little unsteadily, clutching his spear. He also sported an enormous erection. Someone would be having fun with his wife or whore later. I wanted to ask her what the hell she’d done to the man but couldn’t while in the walls of the keep. This new development in my companion worried me. Her capacity for such magic came as a surprise.
The horses clomped noisily over the bridge and we met with no resistance on the other side. I didn’t know whether the guard had been a job’s worth or if we would have a real problem seeking an audience with Arthur. We rode through the wide killing field and I glanced at the training grounds for the squires and soldiers, forges and schooling rings for the horses filling the space. There were dozens of people moving around in this area, a hundred paces wide. We rode up to the main gate of the keep, offset from the front gate, so enemies could not run from one to the other unimpeded. A huge arched entrance protected by vast oak and iron doors with a portcullis towered over the horses. The keystone at the top of the arch taller than Else. The cobbles under the arch were higher than elsewhere, helping keep the enemies footing unsteady. Arthur’s grandfather had been paranoid about attack. Once wet, these cobbles made difficult footing if you wanted to batter the doors down. I should know. I’d fallen on them often enough returning from the city too drunk to remember to be careful in the rain.
The guards at the final gate stopped us, just as I knew they would. “State your business,” said 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 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, his shoulders slumping 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. Ash bit the boy holding him the moment he realised we weren’t fighting and proceeded to make life difficult for everyone within kicking distance.
“That’s a fine horse,” said the sergeant as he watched Ash’s antics.
Else said, “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 entrance way. 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.