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I SPOKE THEN, WITH slow deliberation and great care, describing each of my dreams in detail. Talking about the Wolf and how I knew he was me. How I realised the Doe represented Else and the mighty Stag, my King.
“The enemy you face, who is it?” Arthur asked.
“I don’t know,” I said choosing honesty. “But I do know it’s bad and it’s going to become stronger. I believe it is the fey who wish you off the throne of Camelot and we have to find Merlin to help us defeat them.”
“And to free you of the spell holding you and Eleanor under its control?” Arthur asked.
“Yes,” I replied.
“Why is she a Doe and not another Wolf?” Arthur asked.
I had asked myself the same question and tried not to think about the answer. “I don’t know that either.”
“Does she?”
“No, I don’t think so, but she’s not always very forthcoming with information.” See I can be tactful.
“Does it hurt to be away from her?” Arthur asked still in the doorway.
“Yes, but I have grown used to the worst of the pain. It is as though I have a broken limb and no chance of it healing without her contact.”
Arthur walked in, his hand shook. “I had the dream. I had the dream where the Stag killed the Doe and turned on the Wolf in his madness. As the Wolf died on the antlers of the Stag the world became dark. The trees died. The fields shrivelled. Camelot fell and thousands perished.” As he spoke, he came close and knelt before me once more. “Forgive me, my friend.”
He knelt, within arm’s reach. I moved my legs so I didn’t startle him and rose onto my knees. I took the candle from his hand and reached for his neck with the other. My palm brushed his skin. Arthur groaned and threw himself into my arms. Despite the restrictions of the chains, I held my King to my body. He shuddered in relief, having released himself from his burdens and begun to follow his heart.
“I love you,” Arthur mumbled into my shoulder.
“I know, I have always known. And you have always been the centre of my world, my King,” I said. I could not consider what kind of love he meant. The love of a brother in arms or...
His hands were hot on my cold back and his musky scent filled my head. I felt his heart pounding against my chest. I kissed his tousled hair without thought, just seeking comfort for us both. We’d been apart for so long.
Arthur lifted his head from my shoulder and we were less than a feather’s width apart. Memories raced from the deepest part of my mind, overwhelming common sense.
“I...” Arthur uttered the word on a breath, which tickled my swollen lips.
I stared into the most perfect dark blue eyes I had ever seen and forgot everything in the world but Arthur. “I...” I managed, more articulate with a sword than a word. “I love you,” I breathed. The context differed from the many other times I’d spoken similar words as his vassal. The honesty surged through me, a simultaneous relief and a terror.
Arthur closed his eyes as if that was all that mattered to him. He withdrew from my arms and reached into his doublet, taking out a key. With shaking hands, he unlocked my shackles and helped me stand.
“I hurt you,” he said touching the bruising on my face.
“I think it’s the least of our worries,” I said smiling, or trying to anyway.
“Come on, you need to eat and clean up before we leave.”
“We are leaving Camelot?” I asked.
“We have a wizard to find,” Arthur said with his usual firmness.
I grinned, then groaned because it split my mouth again. I followed him out of my cell and knew I cheated death once more.
We walked up the corridor. Arthur had slung me into the deepest part of the castle. After the first set of stone stairs, my legs weakened and my breathing came in short gasps. The cold and hunger now defeated my body. Dehydration is dangerous to all warriors, but to me it is a killer. I work hard and sweat hard. I needed water.
“Arthur, hang on,” I said, leaning against a smooth stone wall. We’d reached the part of the keep with dressed stone. He returned to my side.
“Is it Else?” he asked as he placed his hand on my back.
“Partly,” I said. I didn’t tell him it was because I’d almost frozen to death, my face hurt from where he’d hit me and he’d starved me for the day. I pushed off the wall and Arthur slid his shoulder under my arm. I leaned into my King. His strength felt so good. We were almost the same height. Arthur is just an inch shorter than I am, broader and wiry, whereas I am more heavily muscled. His skin is light and freckles in the summer. We made slow progress, but he took me up narrow staircases and along corridors until we reached his suite of rooms. I wondered who slept in my room just down the hall.
There were guards at various points but they ignored us and Arthur’s rooms were bare of soldiers. He opened the large oak door and a wall of heat washed over me like a comfort blanket. He helped me into his most casual suite. His bedroom lay next door and a washing room. Here, he was always at his most relaxed, where he discusses plans with friends and sits in quiet contemplation when he wants to be alone. He helped me to a large wooden chair covered in tapestry cushions right in front of the fire.
I shivered, unable to prevent the deep quake in my bones. He poured a glass of wine and thrust it into my hand. I stared at the dark liquid. “I’m not drinking,” I said.
“You need it,” he replied. “Is this because of Else, Lancelot? You look terrible.”
“I don’t know, I can’t tell anymore, please, Arthur, if she is here let her come to me.” My hand trembled as I raised the wine to my lips. The fire in the huge hearth warmed my skin but not my bones.
Arthur touched my head with fingertips. “I’ll go and find her. She’s nearby. I’ll only be a few moments.” He didn’t wait for a reply he just swept from the room.
I sipped the wine with my elbows resting on my knees, my head down. I heard the door open, expecting to see Else or Arthur, I stared dumbfounded at Guinevere.
She ran toward me wearing her hair down over her shoulders. It flowed around her waist and a dressing coat of thick tapestry coloured red and gold. It lay tight to her waist, but her legs flashed bare as she approached.
She dropped to her knees in front of my chair. “Lancelot, my love.” She reached up to my face. “We have but moments. Arthur has gone to find that funny little thing you arrived with.”
I blinked several times, I thought she meant Ash, then realised she meant Else. I gathered my wits, allowing Guinevere the upper hand would be dangerous.
“That is my wife, my Lady,” I said, watching those large pale blue eyes carefully. I withdrew from her hands and sat upright in the chair.
Guinevere frowned and rested her hands on my filthy knees. “Don’t be ridiculous, Lancelot. You can’t be married to her, she dresses like a boy and she has a foul mouth,” she said it with such confidence I almost believed her myself. As for the foul mouth, I’d had some cracking arguments with the Queen and she could let rip when she wanted.
I stuck to my principles. “Regardless of what you think, she is my wife, your Majesty.” I tried to stand so she couldn’t touch me. Using her title helped maintain distance between us in my head. She pushed me back with surprising strength.
“She isn’t beautiful enough for you to love, Lancelot.” Her repeated use of my name displayed her need to own me.
“Guinevere...” I wanted to manhandle her out of my way, but I also wanted to avoid contact. “Don’t be rude.”
“My love.” She clutched my hand, avoiding the issue of Else. “Please, this is more important than some wife you’ve acquired.” That’s Guinevere, all heart. “Please, I must tell you, Arthur is mad, quite mad, look how he beat you today. And he...” I watched her eyes fill with tears. “He has beaten me,” her voice became a whisper.
My heart froze in response to her words. “Leave,” I said, a wave of loathing sweeping over me. I took her hands off mine and rose, moving around her. “Leave, Guinevere and I will forget your foolishness and lies.”
She stared up at me stricken. “I am not lying. He has beaten me. I need you, my love.”
“I am not your love and Arthur may well have pushed you in an argument but he would never beat you.” I didn’t know how much more of this I could take.
“You are the Queen’s Champion,” she snapped when she realised she would not provoke me into believing Arthur hurt her.
“I am the Queen’s fool,” I retorted just as Arthur walked in holding Else by the elbow.
Else wrenched herself from Arthur’s grasp and ran to me. I helped to cross the distance and pulled her into my body. The magic flared and the pain eased. I held her in my arms, my hands buried in her hair. I sighed, unaware of Arthur or his wife.
Arthur however, once he’d checked on us was not unaware of his wife. “My Lady, it is late for you to be roaming the keep.” His voice might have cut steel.
Guinevere went white. Even her lips drained of colour. “My Lord.” She inclined her head, the formality of their game awful to watch.
I stared at husband and wife and realised their marriage lay shattered on the floor around us, sparking light into the air to burn and blind the unwary. The hate writhed between them, its tentacles reaching out to yank in the innocent. I pulled Else around me, hiding her behind my back, trying to protect her from the possible backlash.
“You have no business in my chambers, Madame,” Arthur said.
“I wished to see to the comfort of my Champion,” the Queen announced. Now, as subtle moves go that one resembled a war hammer.
Arthur’s eyes narrowed. I opened my mouth to intervene. Else pressed her finger to my lips and shook her head. Arthur moved around Guinevere, behaving as if to avoid an adder in the grass.
“My friend,” he said with his back to his Queen. “I have a question for you.”
I glanced at Guinevere and then focused on Arthur.
“Sire,” I said unable to hide my wariness.
“You have been thrown from Camelot. You are currently a knight without a master, am I right?” Arthur asked. His eyes were cold, a winter’s day before the snow.
“My Lord, I have always been yours to obey,” I said. Else melted from my arms and moved away from me. I stood straight before my King, my heart pounding. Would he return to me that which I most valued?
“Then,” Arthur said turning to Guinevere. “I reinstate your title, Lancelot du Lac and as such, name you as a new knight. All previous ties have been broken so I decree you shall become the King’s Champion. Do you accept this title, Knight of the Court of Camelot?”
Without hesitation I dropped to my left knee and offered out both my hands, pressed together palms upward as though holding a cup of water. “I will accept this gift, my Lord and I will protect your honour as though it were my own. I promise on my faith that I will be faithful, never cause you harm and will observe my homage to you completely. I will preserve you against all persons in good faith and without deceit.” My head remained bowed. I felt Arthur lace his fingers into the tangled mass of my hair.
I did not waver. I did not think through the consequences. I obeyed my King. I heard Guinevere hiss in response to losing me for good.
“This isn’t over, Sire,” she said with more derision than I thought possible. “You may have your knight back but your love for him is a foul thing which turns you both into monsters. You are unhealthy and that has made me barren. You disgust me, Arthur.”
Arthur’s hand trembled. I did not move one muscle. Whatever had been said between them I didn’t want to know or consider.
“I accept your fealty, Lancelot, Knight of Camelot.”
His words were all the benediction I needed. A wash of peace flooded through me and I didn’t give a damn what anyone thought of us or our friendship. No one knew the truth of our love for each other. Together, Arthur and I would defeat all his enemies and Guinevere could just seethe from the sidelines.
I heard the door slam and Arthur’s hand moved from my head. “God, what have I done,” he whispered.