Chapter Twenty-Two: Mend The Trust He Shattered
The Sword of Excalibur
“I am but a snake in the garden, willing to keep those overran rodents from your harvest. Bear in mind this land may be yours, but it was once mine… and my services come at a price.”
Arthur Pendragon
There were many things to take place this evening in which I could still recall come morning. One of them being the sleep my body found next to Guinevere.
It was not a peaceful rest by any means, but it was rest nonetheless. And with what Guinevere and I had spoken of within the confined walls of our shared chamber as night befell us... any sleep willing to find me after was wholeheartedly welcomed.
She had insisted—ordered, rather, that I join her come daylight to hand select the talent that would perform at the Commemoration Dinner following The Hunt. I had insisted that my work could not be interrupted so close to such an important event, yet Guin would not hear of such words.
Her words had a degree of finality to them which I knew, somewhere within me, I could not persuade. Her mind had been made, and that sharp mind of hers was an unmovable force once it settled, digging its roots deep into the confines of my own.
She and I had found ourselves at odds with one another yet again, her starting to truly question my hesitancy to consummate this marriage... and my well of excuses had since run itself dry. There was no explanation I could give now that would silence her spiraling thoughts—no reasonable excuse for what my disinterest was. We had found each other together each night, and yet I did not act upon her unspoken advances.
She wanted more, but I could not give it to her. My body would not will it.
If I did not soon fulfill my own duties as her husband, her suspicions would only solidify themselves, revealing to her my true intentions.
And if I lost Guinevere... I would lose my footing with both my mind and this Kingdom. She was as tied to the throne as was I, her mind carrying with it a sense of stability for me. Merlin had seemingly taken a liking to her as well, and that itself was a different uphill battle for me to climb, considering his aim for me to please her. He wanted nothing of me, and yet there was still something that had passed between us.
Something he was forcing himself to wholeheartedly deny.
I would not allow him to forget the stables, nor the bathing room. I would not allow him to forget that look etched into his handsome features as soon as he had realized that he had hurt me. And I refused to forget the dining hall where he—where he had seemingly heated the air surrounding us just by his reaction to my words.
I knew it would hurt Guin significantly if she was to discover my feelings for another, but I felt that it would break her entirely to uncover that my feelings were for a man. A man so close to her... to us. She would shatter at that thought.
But I was starting to dream of him at night... and a dream had come to me again this night.
A dream so absolute one could not tell the difference between both it and reality...
I dreamt of walking down the familiar corridor of where our chambers were located amidst this castle, halls I had walked since I was a child, and there was a dim light shining through from under the door of Morgana's chamber at the far end of this corridor which captured my attention. I made my way slowly, my feet leading me with purpose as I questioned what this dream would show me. With each night I dreamt of him, my mind could not make sense of it, leaving me with just glimpses of what had transpired once I awoke.
The coyness of his smile. Those glowing embers of his irises.
My answers were soon revealed through the crack of the slightly opened door as I approached. I could hear low voices, both of Morgana and Merlin, and as I peeked through that cracked door, I almost let slip a gasp from the sheer sight of what my eyes fixated themselves upon.
Morgan was nestled into Merlin's chest, lying against it on her bed as he held her close to him.
It was only a dream... and yet I still attempted to listen to the conversation they carried on quietly amongst themselves as if it mirrored truth. Morgana was soaked in a layer of sweat, leading me believe that Merlin had been there to comfort her from one of her nightmares, for I had done the same the night after my fathers passing when rest did not find her nor I, yet as I saw a serpent slowly reveal itself from the sleeve of Merlin's cloak, my eyes grew large with fear by what this very unnatural dream was going to soon reveal.
I did not wish to see my sister bitten, whether it be a dream or not, for I now knew of that bite and the horrors it brought upon the flesh... yet I could not look away. And when that serpent stretched its head out from Merlin's cloaked arm towards Morgana, and I watched her lift her slender fingers to it to touch the black scales tenderly, I knew this to surely be a dream for the only one I had ever witnessed near those serpents was this Druid himself.
This was until I remembered how fond of Morgana Merlin truly was. How... different he was with her.
If I was to entertain this as reality, there was a good possibility that Merlin's companions would treat her as Merlin did.
With such unwavering kindness.
Though but a dream, I slowly felt the tightness of jealousy trickling into my heart against my will. His companions were very blatant with their unfondness of me, and yet they allowed Morgana to touch them. I had shown nothing but respect deep within that forest the night I approached Emrys to request his help, and yet these companions of his had delivered a poisonous bite to my neck, piercing through my flesh and forcing their venom into my blood.
There was a realm of difference between my intentions that night and theirs, further feeding my jealous thoughts as I watched that serpent snake around the porcelain skin of Morgana's hand.
And perhaps it was my deep unrest of such a sight—of those serpents welcoming her touch as they had Merlin, as Merlin slowly ran his fingers through the damp curls of Morgana's unruly hair—which jolted my body awake suddenly, cutting short such a vivid dream. The sleep I was sure I must have gotten had left my body feeling rested come dawn, but my mind felt worn as I blinked the remainder of sleep from my eyes.
I was to leave the castle this day with Guin; however, after a dream such as that one, I did not wish to leave this place at all. That dream was so vivid—so unnatural, that I did not know of what to think. It was a dream, yet it left with such clear imagery, imprinting itself on my mind, and Guinevere had noticed the following morning as she laid beside me in her—our bed. I had not expected for her to rise for quite some time, but with our expectations for the afternoon, it was well of her to do so.
"What is it, Arthur?" She asked gently in this bed beside me as my torn body sat me up against the wooden headboard in this uncomfortable bed.
"I dreamt of a nightmare," I replied honestly to my wife whilst slowing my shortened breaths, which forced her to raise from this bed further, sitting up with me.
"A nightmare?" She asked. "As in that of Morgana's dreams?" There was worry laced into that kind voice of hers now. "Has someone entered the castle in the past days? An unfamiliar face? Perhaps this is unknown magick."
"No... no, not of Morgana's. This one was... different, but I do not remember the details of it."
It would seem that my honesty with my wife would stop itself short here. I did not wish to worry this beautiful young woman, however. And if I were to explain my dream, I would have to then explain why I would claim something of such innocence as a nightmare.
"Strange... very strange. I believe it is still something we should look into, Arthur. If it is something more, I suggest we do not leave it be to manifest itself further within this castle. I will conduct a search for anything out of place once you and I return this day."
... Shite.
This was not magick per se... but it did feel strange. I had never dreamt a dream so tangible before, where I had awoken in a bit of a daze, unable to decipher the difference between what I had dreamt and what I had lived.
"Let us take breakfast together," I offered my wife instead, both willing to distract her mind from what I had indeed admitted, and unwilling to let this drift between us grow. The guilt of what I had felt so strongly whilst dreaming of another man, yet waking up beside my other half, had started to weigh heavily on my mind once more.
I no longer knew how to feel—how to process such a complexity between my mind and my heart.
My duty and my desires.
Each day I lived, and each night I dreamt... it left me all the more torn.
What I knew of now was that if Guin and I were to seek this day with our constituents—to come before our people—we would need to be united with our thoughts and actions.
This was the first time Britain would witness a ruling of both a King and Queen in many, many years, an opportunity Guin and I may only be given once.
-
I did not see Merlin before Guinevere and I departed from the castle. Morgana had managed to wake early enough to bid us farewell at the entrance, and she did well to inform me that Merlin had taken more time to rest within his chamber. There was a tiring unrest in Morgana's eyes, yet it was far less than the days which came before, leading me to believe that some sleep may have finally found her troubled mind.
That thought had then beckoned that dream of mine forward once more—when I had witnessed Merlin in Morgana's chamber, comforting her with such tenderness I had never seen from him before.
A dream which still pestered vividly in my mind, unlike most dreams I had dreamt in the past. This was one I was all too willing to forget, and yet my mind would not allow it.
I had wished to ask Morgana how sleep had found her, but there was no time before we said our goodbyes. Guinevere was already rushing us from the castle, insisting we take to the prepared Royal carriage quickly so we may arrive further into town before high noon.
The talent Guinevere and I would soon be tasked to hand-select were first welcomed to our castle; however, Guinevere found it best that she and I take this ride into town to appear before our people.
My father had rarely ever left the castle... and from what I could tell, Guinevere would not allow us to hide ourselves as he had once done, though we brought guards to ensure our safety amidst the unrest of this land.
I understood this reasoning of hers. The people—our people—should not have harbored the same fear in their hearts as they did for my father. If we were to unite this nation under our rule, we could not view the people who built our wealth as less than ourselves, much like my father had.
I was not chosen as the King... I had inherited the throne. Therefore, I was no different from those who called this land home.
And so I followed the lead of my Queen.
I listened closely to her words as she sat across from me within this carriage, accompanying me on our short journey. She spoke of the necessary plans we were to enact to end this famine within Britain, an oath of action that was already taking flight within the smaller villages impacted by the infertile soil and scant rainfall. Guinevere had requested a chart of rationing to which I had begun developing, taking note of the redistribution so our people would not go hungry as we determined what it was we could do to grow enough crops to survive the winter.
With Guinevere's well-spoken, persuasive words, the Council offered no objections to our detailed planning. Instead, they assisted each other, each member of the Council now appointed to a region from which they were to collect information over the course of the next few moons.
What my beautiful wife and I were to wait upon in the meantime was The Hunt, where we would hear first accounts of regions not within walking distance. Guinevere did not shy from suggesting we find time to travel after the festivities that were to take place within the castle in days time, and I found myself wholeheartedly agreeing.
I, too, did not wish to lead this nation from a throne like my father had. From the castle perched upon that hill. I had wished for what Guinevere had—what Merlin had... the unification under guidance that our people could trust.
And as this carriage brought us towards the entrance of a small tavern in which Guinevere had requested we use to audition such talent, I forced my mind away from the castle. I forced it away from the thought of the time Merlin and Morgana would soon spend together. I forced myself to commit my mind to my Queen and my people as I followed her out of this carriage, which eventually slowed to a stop.
As we exited, we were immediately welcomed by a small crowd of our townspeople gathered outside the quaint tavern.
Our guards had remained close; however, Guinevere's steps came to a stop near the door to the tavern, her white, elegant, Pendragon crested cape flowing freely amidst the calming breeze of this bright, sun-filled day, as she turned to offer these people one beautiful smile. I watched the beaming rays of sunlight pouring from the sky, cast down to touch each small white flower woven into the large braid of her braided hair, which cascaded down her back.
There was no place in which Guinevere did not glow. She truly was the most beautiful woman in all the nation. Perhaps all the realms.
I could see these people here were somewhat frightened by our arrival, the look of uncertainty clouding their eyes, and rightfully so, for this had not been done before.
We had not welcomed entertainment from our citizens before, for the Commemoration Dinner. Quite the contrary, in due fact. My father had barely presented any music at such a celebration that came each year—he had instead chosen to fill the otherwise silence of the hall with sounds of chatter as guests spoke amongst themselves.
In light of this new ruling, the citizens knew not of what awaited them. They had rarely laid eyes upon their now King for my father was strict with where he had allowed me to roam, though Guinevere had never shied from moving freely through Camelot in the past, and her openness to our people was what put a great deal of their worry at ease.
I joined my wife dutifully at her side, greeting our people with smiles and laughter just as she had, whilst joining the conversations she so seamlessly started with each man, woman, and child that gathered here.
I had been so engrossed in such conversation with my wife, listening closely to the citizens who both offered their condolences for the late King, and their well wishes for our reign, that I barely noticed something hit the metal plate of my armor's leg covering until I heard the sound of a guard's sword beside me unsheathe itself quickly.
All conversation between this welcoming crowd, Guinevere, and myself, seized suddenly at the sharp sound of metal, and as I finally turned to my left to face the guard who dared draw his sword upon our citizens, I watched as someone pushed quickly past the crowd to grab for a small child who was some feet away.
The man was older, his hair white as ash and thinning, while his body stood frail with age. I noticed the look of pure terror in his eyes while he shoved the small child back into the crowd before falling hard upon his uncovered knees, bringing them to the rough gravel terrain.
The silence which spread within the crowd brought the attention of its people to the old man who quickly clasped his hands together as those light, sorrow-filled blue eyes found mine.
"Please!" He begged quickly, pleading with me in a coarse voice. "Please spare him! He knows not what he is doing, Your Highness, please! He is a careless, careless child—"
I raised my right hand immediately at such sudden words, silencing the old man in similar tattered clothes to what this crowd wore. His bone-thin legs trembled as he kneeled, his bare knees surely raw from both the roughness of this gravel path, and the heat that must have consumed each small bit of rock.
That same hand which had raised itself to silence the old man, then slowly lowered and stretched itself forward towards him.
I could hear the shifting of the guard's metal armor as my men tensed. The guard beside me opened his mouth, whispering a quiet warning. "Your Highness," his words began, yet I ignored them as the old man's eyes enlarged, looking at my hand as if it held a foreign object within it.
"Off your knees," I ordered him. The hesitancy in his eyes was unmissable, but none dared to speak a word against my gesture now... and once this older man understood that this was in fact an order coming from the highest of ranks, he rather slowly reached for my open hand, accepting it with his thin fingers, and lifting himself from the ground.
His frail weight was nothing for me to lift, yet I knew it would weigh heavily against his feeble bones if he were to try to lift himself from the manner in which he had suddenly dropped to his knees. He was quick to release the hand that helped him, not wanting to take from me more than I was giving.
"T-T-Thank you—th-thank you, Your Gace, th-thank y-y—"
This very hand then beckoned for the one who stood behind him, somewhere within the crowd. "Bring the child forward," I ordered.
And that was when this older man's eyes grew wide with horror once more. I cast my gaze sharply to the guard on my right, who quickly sheathed his sword again, that slicing metal cutting through the complete silence, and the simple action seemed to bring with it a wave of relief as the old man stumbled aside, allowing the small child to weave his way back through the crowd towards me.
"My King, I assure you that the boy will be heavily punished for such indecent—" the old man began, saying more of those coarse words, yet it was mine which cut his short.
"You will do no such thing," I ordered, my eyes shifting to the older man before I turned my head towards the small child who shared this old man's light irises. I found myself crouching down to the height of the boy as I took a knee, watching those light eyes closely while they were cast strongly towards the ground. "Have I wronged you, little one?" I asked the boy gently.
He still refused to face me, and I could see his own frail stature starting to shake, his hands resting straight at his sides. He was wearing a dirtied cotton shirt too large for him, and trousers which were tied tightly around his small waist, also too large for him. Even his tattered sandals did not fit his small, dust-ridden feet, forcing him to take those uneven steps forward through the crowd to soon face me.
"Iriah!" The old man hissed to the little boy, forcing words from his tight lips.
"N-N-No, Your Grace—n-no. Please—please accept my humblest apolog—"
"Whom of mine has hurt you?" I then asked the boy, surprising him enough to turn that small head upwards toward me, those light eyes finally meeting mine as his longer brown curls of hair fell back away from his adolescent face.
"T-The King—th-the old—" this little one started, yet this older man interrupted him by calling his name sharply again under his breath. And as my hardened gaze finally lifted to the old man, he stumbled a step or two backwards.
"You may speak freely, Iriah," I spoke in a quieter tone to the terrified child.
I could see the uncertainty in his eyes. He turned back slightly to look up at the old man, yet all the man could muster was a defeated nod, allowing the boy to speak with no further interruptions.
"H-He... he... h-he took food from my family. Food we needed."
This child knew of the horrors speaking one's mind could bring... yet he was courageous enough to cast a pebble towards the King of Britain. And if he were to be courageous in his action, then he must be courageous in his words.
These were the principles of a brave man.
"Arthur," Guinevere whispered from her standing beside me, but I could feel the edges of my lips curve upwards. This child was no older than perhaps twelve or thirteen years of age, yet he held boldness I had not seen within this land since my father's passing. I had not seen it once during my father's rule... and it was refreshing.
"I am not here to take from you," I told the child quietly. I had wanted my words to reach just his ears, yet the silence from the crowd had told me all were listening in intently, unsure of what I and my men were to do next for such an insult shown to the throne.
"Y-Y-You are n-not?" The child asked me in a similar hushed tone, to which I slowly turned my head left, then right.
"We are to distribute rations to this town shortly. You have my word, little one—the word of the King—that you will not go hungry come nightfall."
I watched as warm light returned to these once-cold, light eyes as they widened at me. There was some murmuring within the crowd at my words, yet I was not quite done.
"And that there," I pointed to the closed hand at his right side, "is one strong hand you have. Perhaps the old King may have cut it off for what you have done... but not many men can hit the target they set their eyes upon, nor with such accuracy." The child's light eyes continued to widen. "It would be ill of me to take it from you... for there may come a day where I might need that hand at my side."
The old man gasped quietly, echoing the increased murmurs of the crowd at my sudden request to the boy.
I knew the punishment my father would have taken for such an act, as did the people in this crowd... but I was not him.
"Perhaps I shall do well," I continued, my smile widening to mirror the bashful smile on the boy, which was only growing from my praises, "to be a ruler deserving of your service?" I then turned up to face the guard who would dare unsheathe a sword to a child, for my words were for his ears, and his alone. "A King is only as just as the men he appoints to protect him."
And the look from this guard, Cyprian was his name, revealed to me he understood my words as he bowed his head in apology.
I felt the weight of a hand on my left shoulder plate, and as I turned, looking up to face my smiling wife gazing down at me, I slowly stood to my feet.
It was by that smile alone, I knew I had done well...
But it was the deep bow from the boy who stood in front of me, accompanied by the rather unexpected bows of his people—our people—which made my own smile fully settle. It was what I had told my wife since she and I were no older than the boy before us now.
I refused to be the one who raised me.
And furthermore, I refused to rule as he had…
With the fear of our people.
••
