THE TOSSED TORCH
As in my other Kernow stories I have blended both time scale and some of the Arthurian legends. Much of my Mordred threads have evolved from the notes used by Mary Stewart for her book 'The Wicked Day' including her comments on notes by Giraldus Cambrensis (Gerald the Welshman) Geoffroi of Monmouth and Chretien de Troyes, who all mention that Arthur made Mordred his Regent; something he would not have done if he had not loved and trusted him. So I have leaned more towards Mordred being a good but damaged man, swayed by his heart than a traitor to his father.
This brings the saga of Marke and Isolda to a close.
There may be further unrelated snippets at some time, although I cannot promise that.
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Pronunciation of Irish names
Diarmud Dermit
Laoghaire Lairy
Feargal Fergul
Dubhnal Doh nul
Cyrwgl (Welsh)pronounced cur ruggul Coracle a small round or oval shallow rowing boat made of wicker or interwoven lathes covered with waterproofed skin or tarred cloth These are still used on the rivers in Wales and parts of Cornwall.
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The song to go with this story is Shadows by RED
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The Sunset, I close my eyes.
I pretend everything's alright.
Drowning in anger from all those lies.
I can't pretend that everything 's alright.
Please don't let me fall for ever.
Can you tell me it's all over now.
There's a hate inside me like some kind of master,
I try to save you, but I can't find the answer
I'm holding onto you
I'll never let go.
I need you with me as I enter the shadows.
Caught in the darkness
I go blind.
Can you help me find my way out?
Nobody hears me.
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THE TOSSED TORCH
Part 1. She Came.
After much talk with my lords, I, Marke, King of Kernow, had set out a peace agreement and had sent it with my Herald and a small embassage to Diarmid, High King of Erin with a formal request for his daughter's hand.
Because I did not trust the King of Erin, I had sent with them, my Knight Champion Tristan, and because of what Merlin used to say,
'Speak soft words, Give sweet gifts, but carry your sword in your hand.'
Within days, a message came back: the King of Erin would accept my terms of peace and give to me the hand of his only child, the Princess Iseult.
"The King requests that the marriage take place at Tara."
My courier fidgeted as he delivered the message.
I waited.
His glance slid up, and down again.
"Is there more?" I asked in a low voice. He looked around and murmured, "Yes, Lord."
I nodded him closer.
"My Lord Herald bid me tell you. Privily. Something is not right. He knows not what but it was right to send Lord Tristan. The Morholt challenged Lord Tristan and they fought. By lance first, then hand to hand. Lord Tristan defeated him soundly. My Lord Herald believes the challenge was expected by the King, but not that Lord Tristan would defeat the Morholt."
"Lord Tristan is unhurt?"
"Not even a scratch, my Lord. My Lord Herald is further of the belief that Diarmud expected the Morholt to defeat Lord Tristan and that you Lord, would then withdraw your offer, leaving the way open for further attacks from Erin. A carefully calculated insult."
I steepled my fingers and tapped them against my mouth.
I stood, walked across the hall, and stared out of the window for some minutes before turning, walked back, beckoning my lords near.
"My Lords, despite Diarmud's seemingly eager acceptance of my offer for the Princess's hand, he has asked that the marriage take place at Tara. My Lord Herald is of the opinion that mischief is afoot."
A rustle of surprise ran around the chamber.
I held up my hand.
"I will think on it this night and I ask you to do the same. We will discuss it further tomorrow.
In my bed chamber that night, after I had dismissed Tomos, my body servant, I called Tramor to sit with me.
Over several years, this had become a habit. Tramor, Commander of the King's Life Guards, had become one of the three close friends and confidants that I had: another was Mordred, my cousin and son of Arthur the High King; the third being Vivian, the High King's Enchantress.
I trusted them and their opinions like no others.
I put my hands together as though in prayer and rubbed my nose in thought.
"What think you, Tramor?
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On the morrow, my lords gathered with me in my Privy Council Chamber.
"My Lords, it is my thought that we should proceed with the marriage. I propose to send word to Diarmud that the marriage should take place here. I shall give several vague reasons as to why I may not leave Kernow at present and requesting he send the Princess so that we may marry soon.
I do not think that Diarmud himself will come with the Princess.
Should my Lord Herald be wrong, then we have lost nothing; if he is right then we are alerted and will be prepared."
I paused.
"Your thoughts, my Lords? Think you, that Diarmud would give his daughter in a political marriage, then attack? I do not. His honour would be surely be besmirched.''
Murmurs and nods of agreement.
"We will set out the Treaty and the terms of Assent of Marriage. You, Brother Martin," I nodded at my scrivener. "will get this done as soon as you are able, and a courier may return with it to Erin.
It went as I thought.
Diarmud agreed.
The Princess would sail for Kernow with the Spring tides.
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On one of the first fine days of Spring, I rode with Tramor to the headland that we call Land's End. One of the glorious Spring days that so often blesses Kernow, the sky was high and blue above us and the sea dancing and sparking before us.
"Look! There, Tramor! Do you see a sail?"
"...Yes, I think... yes, two … no three."
We waited.
"I do not see their badges yet,"
"Nor I, but I think it is they."
"I, also.'
We turned our horses' heads for home.
Three days later, word came that they had anchored at the wharves in the estuary below Castle D'Or. The road to the castle was long and wound steeply up the cliff side. It was late and dark before they arrived.
As usually happens at this time of year, a clear warm day gives way to a chill and misty night. The pitch wall torches around the greater courtyard were lit, and I had ordered pages with hand torches to light the steep steps to the great hall. The smoke from these combined with the mist to add to the gloom.
She was mounting the steps as I strode out to meet her.
My worst fears were realized; she was a child.
So small, she barely reached my shoulder. Though huddled in cloaks and shawls, she was shivering.
"Welcome my Lady. Welcome to Castle D'Or."
And so she came to Kernow: Iseult, Princess of all Erin.
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I took her hand and with her lords and ladies following, we went into the great Hall. Amid the muttering and whispering of the court, the shuffling and craning of necks to see her, we mounted the dais. The hall was well lit with wall torches, the dais more so with a hundred or more candles, and as I presented her to my people, I saw her clearly for the first time.
She was exhausted, holding herself upright by sheer force of will. Her face was wan, a sickly white, with violet shadows under her eyes. They did not meet mine; they searched the faces below us. I followed her glance; it rested first on Tristan, then on three of her father's lords.
She shook a little.
She had the look of a worn out child.
I turned to my sister.
"Perhaps the Princess may wish to rest and dine in her chamber tonight. She has had a long journey."
Gwennith took her with one of her ladies to the chamber that had been prepared for her.
Her lords watched her go and I beckoned to Tramor.
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The Princess breakfasted in her chamber, while I took mine in the lesser Hall with my guests and the most senior of my lords.
The final details of the Peace Treaty were to be discussed in the morning; its formal signing and that of the Marriage Assent that afternoon.
The morning meeting was smooth and urbane, each point agreed on pleasantly and easily.
Diarmid's premier Lord, Laoghaire's, guarded glance slowly drifted around the Privy Chamber as they had around the great hall last night.
The Lord Feargal' s eyes were on the two chests on the side table, Iseult's dowries set on her by her father and myself, together with the caskets that held the jewellery and the many gifts that befitted the marriage of the daughter of a High King.
The Lord Dubhnal though, was ill at ease; his skin was sweaty and greasy. Why should that be?
I excused myself from joining them and the court for the midday meal.
I had matters to attend to.
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When we met again for the signings that afternoon, the Princess joined us.
At my request.
"You rested well, my Lady?"
For she looked so. The shadows had gone from her eyes and the pallor from her cheeks, though she was still wrapped in a great soft wool shawl.
"Indeed, my Lord. A night on dry land does much for me." Her voice was clear and light, confident with only the trace of her Irish brogue.
The question must have been in my eyes for she went on.
"I suffer from le mal de mer, my lord,from the moment I step on board ship."
"Then, we will pray to the Lord Christos, you may not have to travel again for some time."
An uneasy titter ran around her lords.
I lead her to the head of the table to sit beside me. The lords sat lengthways down the table, my lords to one side, the Irish to the other.
I watched her careful glance slide around her lords, resting on each. She appeared to have no affection for them, I thought. Neither did she trust them. Why should that be? They appeared devious and sly but there was no smell of a trap.
She shivered a little and she tightened her lips,
The Lord Laoghaire watched the Princess; his look almost lascivious though not of lust. No! More of the hunter greedily watching the lure in the trap that he had set.
I signed to Edmund, my Lord Herald, to read the Treaty. Each point was formally agreed upon and the Treaty signed. He proceeded to read the Marriage Assent until finally he stopped and looked at me. I nodded.
He continued.
'Should Marke the King predecease Iseult the Queen, all her dowries, lands, monies, and jewels shall be hers to use as she shall see fit and the Queen, with her Ladies, shall be free to remain in Kernow, or to return to Erin or to travel freely where so ever she may choose. Also, she may marry or not, as she chooses, without constraint.'
Silence!
The Irish Lords looked at each other.
"My Lord," Lord Laoghaire said eventually. "But..'
"Lord Laoghaire, the Assent is as agreed upon with the King Diarmid. I wish to add this addendum.
Is there a problem?"
He licked his lips and looked at his companions, shifty and furtive; I could almost smell the unease.
What is it?
"I understood that, in King Diarmid's absence, you and your lords have the authority to agree to any alterations to the Assent?"
He nodded.
I looked again at the Irish lords, waiting.
I stood.
"This too, or nothing, my lords"
They nodded.
"My lady, do you wish to add anything?"
Huge sapphire eyes looked at me, surprised. She shook her head.
"My scrivener has drawn up three copies, my lords. One to remain in the hands of the Princess; the second, to return with you to Erin; the third, I will send to Arthur, the High King."
Again, there came the unease amongst the Irish lords.
Edmund lit a candle and held a stick of scarlet wax in its flame. He let a molten droplet fall onto each of the three parchments and I pressed my seal of state into them.
A little ripple of relief ran around the room and the atmosphere lightened.
I signed it and each of the lords present signed below me. At last all was finished and I dismissed them.
The Irish lords waited for the Princess. I put my hand on her arm to detain her.
"Leave us." I said, and lead her to the seat in the window embrasure.
I set my crown and cap on the side table and ran my hands through my hair.
"Sit you, my Lady."
I took the jug on the table and poured two cups.
I turned back to where she sat in the afternoon sun.
I caught my breath.
Whoever had said she was plain, had lied.
Her face was surrounded by a white wimple, a sheer veil held in place by a gold fillet. Her skin was fine and fair with roses in her cheeks, her mouth full and red. Her eyes were the deepest sapphire and they were clear, with an honesty that her lords' eyes did not have. She raised them to mine and they were wary, almost assessing. Assessing me? I swallowed a smile.
She was young, though not as young as I had thought.
She raised her eyes to mine and they were the eyes of a woman. Maybe she was, as yet a little unsure, but the intelligence in her eyes was not that of a child, and her poise was that of a High Princess.
And she was beautiful.
I sat beside her in the embrasure and offered her a cup. She tasted it.
"It is good. What is it?"
"Cider, it is our drink, we make it here in the kingdom. Hey, hey, careful, it is very strong."
I raised the cup to my mouth and put it down again without drinking.
"Now we are private with each other, is there aught you wish to ask?"
She looked down moistening her lip.
"You may ask me what you will." I said gently.
"How old are you? I thought you to be old but you are not, are you? At least not very."
"Older than you by somewhat. Of that I am certain. I am nine and twenty. How old are you, little Mistress Impertinence?" I was smiling now.
"I was sixteen five days ago!"
"I am impressed, Princess."
"You mock me, my King?"
"I?" I smiled again.
I waited. There was more, of that I was certain.
"Do you have children?"
I hesitated, my smile dying.
"My son died with his mother on the same day as my father."
She bit her lip.
"Forgive me, my Lord. That I knew. And that they died at the hands of my father's raiders.
What I wished to ask..."
She took a deep breath.
"My mother died when I was born. I grew up at my father's court surrounded by my father's many bastards, both older and younger than I; surrounded too, by the ill feeling and scheming between existing and discarded mistresses.
I learnt to deal with it. I can do so again but to be able to do so, it is necessary to know. And I should prefer to know from you than from whispered court gossip."
I had misjudged her. Young she was but she had been the Lady of a great court and raised by a hard master.
So cool and dignified.
Yet, yet she seemed so vulnerable.
"No, Lady. I have no by-blows. And no mistresses. There have been women, yes but they were passing fancies of a night or two, and never women from Castle D'Or. None to give you grief."
She bit her lip again.
Again, she looked at me with that assessing look, then a slow nod, of acceptance maybe.
"You are not very tall." I said.
"I am not likely to grow further. If you had wanted taller, my lord, perhaps you should have looked elsewhere."
Her tone was tart; it amused me.
I brushed her cheek with the back of my hand.
"No, I think that I have found what I was looking for."
I touched her veil and the fillet that bound it.
"I do not know what colour your hair is. May I?"
I took off the fillet, her wimple and veil and the net that held her hair
I ran my fingers through it, lifting it and let it slide through my fingers.
" The colour of the King's Gold and eyes as blue as the sapphire set in his crown." someone had said.
"Isolda."
It is Kernowish for her name.
The colour rose in her cheeks and she stood.
"It is warm in the sun."
She made to take off her shawl, I was before her and took it from her and laid it on a chair.
I turned back to her.
It was as though I had been punched in the gut and all my breath left me.
She was dressed as befitted a princess, in a gown of heavy silk of a deep rich blue, its weight making it fall straight from her full high breasts to her feet. A heavy silver girdle buckled low on her hips emphasised a voluptuousness and sensuality that the childlike quality of her face denied. She had an allure of which, perhaps, she was not aware.
A bolt shot to my crotch.
I wanted her.
I wanted her with a sharpness I had not felt for a woman in a long while.
I bent to kiss her mouth but she turned her face aside, hiding her mouth with her fingers.
"Yes, you are right, my little lady. There is time and enough."
I had given her a white palfrey as a welcome gift and I asked her now.
"How like you your mare?"
Her face lit.
"Oh! She is beautiful, I have named her Blanche."
"Would you try her? Ride with me this afternoon? I would show you your new home."
We rode out through the fields and little villages spread around at the foot of the castle returning as the sun began to dip, through the glade beyond the chapel where the Roman ruins stood, dog-roses, convolvuli, woodbine scrambling over fallen walls and through shrubs.
She stopped and I with her.
"What is this place?" she asked.
"Just some old ruins." I said.
"It is very pretty." but she shivered and nudged her mare to move on.
The days passed; we spent much time together discussing the wedding preparations with our people. We rode out together when we could, to know each other better. I found that she was educated as befits a Princess, able to read and write, to count and talk of poetry and music. This surprised me, I did not think that the barbaric and cruel Diarmid would educate a girl. I was to learn later that it was her foster mother, an enslaved lady of the Cymru,who had taught her, together with the use of medicines and herbs. She was shy and serious at first, but she had a quick wit that made me smile, and as we grew more at ease with each other, laughter was often near the surface.
I realised that laughter was something that had been missing from my life for a long time.
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Our wedding day was upon us before we knew. We were married according to the rites of the Christos and my kingdom rejoiced. The cider and ale flowed, my peopled feasted, sang and danced.
I drank very little, I had no wish to go drunk to my bride. Throughout the day I was more and more aware of her youth, her fragility, how small she was.
I am of tall, strong stock, I stand a head taller than most of my people: I am a knight, a soldier, with the strength and breadth that such entails, and she barely reached my shoulder. When she put her hand in mine to make our vows, I almost gasped aloud at how small it was.
They bedded us with the usual bawdiness and having doused the candles, made to draw the bed curtains.
"Leave them" I said curtly. Slowly they left us, silent together in the firelight.
Hesitantly, I broached the subject that had been troubling me most of the day.
"You have been told you, have you not, what happens in the marriage bed?"
A whisper.
"Yes, my Lord"
I hesitated again.
"The first time, it will hurt."
I paused, thinking how I must seem to her, wanting to reassure her, yet wanting her so badly.
"I will try not to hurt you too much."
And I took her into my arms, softly and gently, aware of the stifled gasps, the knuckles that being were bitten. Yet it was good for both of us.
I woke with a start in the night. A log had fallen out of the fire basket. I swung out of bed to replace it and brush the sparks safely away. Leaning my arm on the lintel, I stared down into the glowing embers.
How long I stood I did not know, till I heard, "My Lord, is aught wrong?"
She rested on her elbow, looking at me. I shook my head. I held out my hand and wrapping the fur spread around her, she came to me. I put my arm around her.
"Look! A picture in the fire. There! Castles! Castle D'Or, Tintagel...Camelot..."
She tilted her head to look where I showed her.
"Yes! Yes." She smiled up at me, in delight.
Her hair glittered in the firelight, her eyes shining in it; it played on the white of her shoulders rising out of the dark fur.
And I wanted her again, as badly as before. I slid the fur off her shoulders and spread it on the floor before the fire and took her hand to bring her down with me.
Heavenly Mother, she was so sweet, so soft.
I think I was falling in love with her.
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In the days leading up to the wedding, I had had no time to observe Tristan or Melor, sullen and surly, or that my sister was tight lipped. But in the honey moon days after, I became aware of Melor's dark face; of Tristan refusal to share any joy. Gwennith too was mostly silent.
I took her aside and asked her what was wrong.
At first she denied anything, then she said she was concerned about her sons.
"Melor, I think, has always been jealous of Tristan."
She stopped.
I thought about what she said.
"But how would this account for Tristan's moods and ill manners?"
She stared down into her cup of apple juice while I waited.
At last, she said, "Tristan has always been the best at everything, accustomed to praise and favour from everyone."
Again she waited and I with her.
"And always first with you, Brother. Marke, I think he is jealous of Isolda."
I took this in but it was so incredible that a little bubble of laughter escaped me.
"No, no Gwenny! You are mistaken. It is too ridiculous; Tristan, jealous of a little thing like Isolda. A little girl. My wife."
She tipped her head in acknowledgement.
"Not of a little girl. Not of your wife. You love her. He is jealous of your love for her. That she is now first in your heart. The whole court knows you are in love with her."
I flushed.
"Oh, fach. Do not be so. Our people are delighted that you to have someone to love again.
Tristan will get over it. Just treat him as ever."
We rode daily, Isolda and I, over the countryside, visiting the smallest of hamlets that my people might see her and get to know her; that she might know and love Kernow the way I did.
Each week, like most villages, the one below the Castle held a market and I went with Isolde to wander around it.
She examined each bead, each piece of fruit on each stall and had a word with every holder.
A gracious Lady, indeed!
"Oh! Oh, look, Marke."
We stopped at a stall. In a basket was a very young puppy. She stroked its head.
"Aren't you sweet? So tiny. What breed is she, Marke?"
"A brachet, a fairy greyhound. You like her?"
I tossed a couple of copper coins to the stallholder and picking up the little creature, I tucked it into her arms.
I moved on and somehow lost her for a few moments
Melor was at my elbow, that black look on his face.
"Where is the Queen, my Lord?"
"She is here somewhere; she can come to no harm."
He started to speak and there she was beside me flushed and confused, with Tristan hurrying behind her.
When I retired to our bedchamber that evening, she was sitting in the big armchair by the fire. I crouched before her to scratch the head of the pup she cradled in her lap.
"You like her?"
"Oh, I love her. Thank you."
Then hesitantly she said, "I have never had a dog before."
I was surprised.
"You had no dogs at Tara?"
"Yes, we had dogs, but they were all working dogs; guard dogs, hunting dogs, retrievers, sheep-herding dogs. My father would have no pets. Even Ulfin, his wolf hound, was a working dog."
How strange this was to me! In Kernow, even the poorest village child had his mutt to trail on a piece of string.
She surprised me further. Hiding her face in the dog's fur, she said,"I have not had a gift before. Before this little one...and Blanche. My horses, my father always told me which I should ride."
"There must have been gifts aplenty for the Princess of Erin."
" For the Princess, yes. Gold, silver, jewels, furs but not for me; they were nothing that Essy would want."
I lifted her and her pup and sat in the chair holding the two of them. She had taken the caul from her hair and it had fallen around her face, hiding it. I tipped her face up, brushing her hair back from her face but she turned away from me. I went on stroking it.
Poor little girl.
A long dead mother, a hard unfeeling father, a marriage to an unknown older man, it must seem to her that her only use was that of a pawn in the politics game.
Drawenna had come young to us, she had known us, she had known me, from childhood, she had known love from me, from my parents.
I would see to it, that this little one would know love.
I dropped a kiss on her head.
"What are you going to call her?"
"You say she is a fairy greyhound, so I will call her Mab, after the Queen of the Fairies."
With the morn, Tristan came and asked my permission to leave court to go to his lands in Breidzh. I consented willingly hoping that he would be more agreeable on his return.
The summer came, with its high, blue skies and hot sun.
I took Isolda out to empty the lobster pots, persuading her, against her disbelief, that she would not be sick in a cyrwgl. She was not, but took her revenge for my teasing by tipping me into the sea. I coughed and spluttered, splashed and called her.
"Isolda, I cannot swim."
She leaned over, her face full of consternation and stretched out her arm to help. I took full advantage of this, to pull her in with me. She surfaced, pushing her hair back, wiping her eyes
She caught her breath, her hands on my shoulders, my arms around her.
"Marke, Marke, let me help you. Be calm. Everything is alright..."
"Yes." I said and kissed her neck.
"Do not struggle.."
"No."and nibbled her ear.
"Grasp the rim. Pull yourself in. I am here, I will help you. You are safe."
I hauled myself dripping back on board, then pulled her in after me.
I sat, arms resting on my knees, watching her, hiding my laughter.
She half lay in the bottom of the boat, panting, weighing up the situation while puddles formed beneath us.
"Marke… … Marke…? You lied to me?!"
"I? Your King? Would I lie to you?"
She eyed me suspiciously for a moment, then sat up.
"Can you or can you not swim?"
At my most haughty, I said "Do you doubt my word, my Lady?"
She looked up at me through her lashes, uncertain still.
Then she burst out emphatically,"Yes, I do!"
I leaned forward to kiss her but the laughter rose.
She whispered against my mouth, "You had better be careful, my Lord, I might tip you in again."
"And I might tan your delightful arse."
She was still so young, yet with each day that passed, I saw her maturing before my eyes. She delighted me, she enchanted me. I was falling deeper and deeper in love with her, and I thought that perhaps she too, might be beginning to love me.
.
With a good summer, the harvest was soon safely gathered in.
The fruit ripened in the orchards.
Every day that passed was gilded with the joy of being with her.
We returned to the castle one day, with our laden baskets to find that Tristan had returned.
I had thought that matters might improve with his return but no.
He was soon as sullen as before and Melor as dark faced as ever.
Isolde too, retreated back a little into her shell.
Oddly, with his return, the younger men of the court began to huddle, whispering, in little groups.
Wictrid, one of my senior lords, seemed always to be at the centre of these or ever at Melor's ear.
Wictrid and I, a little younger than he, had not always agreed, and I wondered often that he should remain at court.
There were subtle sneering remarks about Tristan accompanied by sniggers, just beyond my hearing.
Melor came to me.
"My Lord uncle, forgive me, I must speak to you." he hesitated. "there is much talk. About my brother..."
He bit his lip.
"My lord, be aware there is the scent of treason about him. There is talk too, about the Queen."
"There is always talk at court, Melor. Do not listen to it."
I dismissed him.
The bright early days of autumn was upon us, and Hunter's Moon brought a wild excitement on the young lords, even more so than usual.
Isolda hated it and begged me not to go but it was tradition for the King to lead the night hunt.
That day Melor and Wictrid came to me in privy.
Wictrid was stifling excitement but Melor looked sick.
"My Lord King, we must tell you. Treason. Lord Tristan and the Queen."
This from Wictrid with a barely hidden smile on his face.
"Explain yourself."
"My lord Uncle, my brother... the Queen... the Hunt tonight..."
I stood in a rage.
"You come again to me. With these lies..."
"Uncle, I do not lie. He is my brother; I am ashamed." He stammered, his head lowered.
I raised my hand to silence him.
"He rides with us..." but Wictrid broke in across me, the malice clear on his face.
"He will not come. He will meet her." The contempt in his voice ill concealed.
I sat heavily and listened to what they had to say.
.
The court gathered in the courtyard as dusk fell, the young lords in high excitement, laughing and calling to each other. Dark Star waited, stamping and tossing his head.
I mounted him.
My lady did not come to see us go.
As we crossed the drawbridge, one of my captains caught up with me.
"My Lord, Lord Tristan's horse has thrown a shoe, he is returning to the castle. He will not ride tonight."
I nodded and we rode on.
We took the right bridle path and rode gently for perhaps an hour in a vast curve to bring us back to the glade with the old ruins and we waited.
A horse's snuffle, a clink of a bridle and Melor's voice choked with emotion.
"You see, my Lord! My brother and the Queen."
I rode slowly forward.
She stood, in his arms, in the moonlit glade.
It was only moments that I looked at them; it seemed like hours.
"Take them!" I said turning to leave. My lords made to follow me
"Stay!"
I choked out the word and slapped Dark Star across his rump with my reins and we fled from that dreadful place.
.
When at last I returned to the castle, my lords were met in the great hall. Melor stood on the first step of the dais, though I could not look at him.
The ladies, roused from their beds by our early return, gathered in whispering groups: Isolda's Irish ladies huddled, white faced, in a corner.
One of the guards brought Branwen to the hall to stand before the dais.
"Lady Branwen, do you know where the Queen was tonight?" I asked, cold and soft.
She bit her lip.
"I don't know where she is, Lord. I have looked..."
"I know where she is now! Where did she go? When the hunt left the castle tonight?"
She looked at Melor.
"I don't know, my Lord."
"You lie. I know you lie. You told Lord Melor where she was going. The glade of the ruined I found her with Lord Tristan."
She gasped. Her eyes, wide with terror, went to Melor beseeching but he resolutely refused to meet them.
"My Lord, my Lord..."
"You knew." I said coldly. "You knew where they would be! You told your lover. He told me."
She gasped again, her mouth trembling with fear and her eyes flooded.
"Spare me your tears. Whatever your loyalties may be to me, Lady, you betrayed your mistress, your sister.'
The contempt in my voice ripped into her.
"Take her away." The guards took her arms.
"Melor. Melor!"
Not once did Melor look at her.
They brought Tristan.
He stood before me, his hands tied.
The pain of the betrayal by the two people I loved most in the world was tearing me apart.
I could not speak to him.
My lords questioned him.
He said nothing.
Accusation after accusation, yet he said nothing but watched me throughout.
"Take him away." I whispered.
I left the hall and went to my chamber, not the King's bedchamber but my boyhood one.
I saw no-one, spoke to no-one, though I knew Tramor kept watch outside. I paced up and down, the pain and the anger never leaving me.
Through the dawn and the day. Through the eve of the second night.
When I could bear it no longer, I went through the silent castle, Tramor behind me. To the guard room. They stood, stiff with apprehension, while I took the cell keys and a pitch torch. Tramor, in his fear of what I might do, grasped my forearm but I shook him off and alone, I went down to her. She sat on a low cot in that dark dank cell lit only by a tallow candle. I put the torch into the holder on the wall. The walls, streaming with damp, gleamed in its flickering light.
With one hand, I pulled her up and pinned her against the wall under its bile of jealousy searing through me.
"Why? Tell me! Tell me. I want to know."
"Why? Was he better than me?
What could he do that I couldn't? "
My hand around her throat: I pushed her chin up with my thumb.
"How long? How many times? When did it start? Tell me! Everything!"
My eyes never left hers, nor hers mine, though her tears ran continuously, soaking the breast of her gown.
They never left mine as she told me.
About Erin, about the voyage, about here in Castle D'Or
"I love you Marke, Not him, only you."
She looked so young,
I wanted to break her neck; I could have snapped that slender neck. Instead I splayed my hand against her beautiful face.
With a muffled "I do not believe you.", I pushed her away from me so she fell to the ground and I fled away from her.
I lay in my chamber, paced the floor, sat unseeing, throughout that night.
In my mind's eyes I could see her, him.
Their young bodies together.
His hands on her.
Did they have the ecstasy that we had had? That she had given to me?
Jesu!
I want to tear down Crysalor, my great battle Sword, from the wall behind my throne.
I want to feel it in my hand, heft its weight, swing it before me.
Use it.
On them.
The law says the punishment for adultery is death by hanging for common folk.
It is my right.
It is the law.
The law says a knight of noble birth, may die beheaded by sword: a lady of birth must burn at the stake.
And a Queen?
Isolda, Isolda!
It is my right.
It is the law.
It is the law of Britain that Arthur made; that he and my father upheld.
That I, as Kernow's King, uphold.
Did not Merlin teach me justice for all, within the law?
Yes, the King's Justice for all.
But what about a King?
Shall there not be justice for a King?
Shall there be no justice for me?
Sweet Christos! Help me!
How can I bear it?
Did he not teach me justice with mercy?
.
My chamber lightened with the dawn. And still I sat
At last I opened my chamber door. Tramor was there as I knew he would be.
As he had been a day and a night long.
I left the door open so that he might enter.
I gave him my judgment.
Tristan to be banished to his lands in Breidzh for the rest of his days.
The Queen to return to Erin with her ladies and the few Irish knights that had remained in Kernow; a troop of guards to escort them safely. With all her possessions.
It seemed very little time before Tramor returned.
He stood waiting until I acknowledged him.
"My Lord, he hesitated "My lord..."
"Yes? "I said wearily.
"The Queen… the Queen asked…. Some of her ladies have wed and settled in Kernow. Of your mercy, she begs for them that they may stay safely. For herself, she begs that she may not return to Erin but that she be escorted to the borders of Kernow. She wishes to go alone. She does not want the remainder of her ladies to accompany her, not even Lady Branwen."
"Those that wish to do so, may remain in the Kingdom in all safety with the exception of the Lady Branwen. Lady Branwen must leave. I will not have her here."
My Lord," his voice low, barely above a whisper. "Lord Melor ...He is Lady Branwen's lover."
"If Lord Melor wishes to take her to Breidzh, he may do so. She may not stay here."
"She is with child."
I shrugged.
I sank back into my chair.
He waited.
He turned to leave, and I said "Tramor, you will command the Queen's escort, wherever she wishes.
"Of course, my Lord."
.
Tramor came and told me they were ready, I made no answer. I had no wish to see them go but I heard the troop of horses leave.
Though there were still two or more battalions of troops still in the castle, a silence fell with the drawbridge and portcullis.
Supper was served. I wanted nothing. The court ate in silence and dispersed.
I went up to the battlements. Silence held reign there too.
Not a whisper; not a rustle or bird call.
I was coming down the steps, when the stillness was broken, the warning bell being rung violently and the sound of mailed feet on stone.
"My Lord, my Lord."
Tramor's hoarse voice. What did he back here?
"A trap, a trap!"
I met him at the door of the armoury. My lords pouring into it to arm. The noise, the panic, the fear.
I could barely hear him.
"The Irish..."
I stopped my breath. "The Queen?"
"She is safe, Lord." He slung my breastplate around me and was buckling it.
My face showed my thoughts, thoughts that had never entered his head.
"No Lord, not the Queen. We are betrayed . The Irish know of the tunnel into the castle…. We came through. . . Diarmid is beyond the moat waiting for a breakthrough."
"No." he said yet again. "Not the Queen! We, Tristan and I suspected something, We returned through the tunnel to warn you. They came up behind us. Wictrid was waiting in the tunnel and. . . . . Melor, but he joined us. Melor ... he is there with as many of my troop as was safe to take and not risk the Queen,..."
I glanced at him.
"We have work to do, tell me later."
He handed me my helm and Crysalor
My captains gathered around us for their orders. And we went out into that horror, the noise of metal clashing, shrieking, sparking of steel on steel; the moans and screams of wounded men, the smell of spilt blood and torn guts. The sickening fear that even the bravest feels when he goes into battle.
Smoke and fire and burning flesh.
Smoke!
Christos! Fire arrows!
My captains are well trained but to be trapped in a burning castle, should not be asked of any man.
There came the clangour of axes on iron. They were attacking the drawbridge!
Wait! Think!
'Tis the time for calm and careful judgment.
Merlin's voice;
I will teach you chess, and geography….
… history.…
"I will be a Knight, a soldier, Merlin. What need I of history?"
"A good commander can make use of anything. Now listen you, Marke! You can learn from great defences!
Horatius defended Rome. On a bridge with only two others in a straight narrow path. Three stopped a thousand."
I gave my orders. Half my troop to go to Melor to help drive back the Irish that had gained entry through the tunnel. Once the tunnel was regained, they were to circle around and come up behind Diamid on the far side of the moat.
The remainder would come forward to the gate with me.
Half blinded by the smoke and our watering eyes, we slipped and slid across cobbles slimy with blood and water.
"Raise the portcullis, then lower the drawbridge."
A little hiss rippled around the small band of men.
I drew my sword and turned to them.
"Melor will hold those behind us. You men will wait here until Advance is called. But first, I need two men with me. Three can stop them in the gateway."
The clamour and shouting, the clash of steel swirled around, outside and behind us but the men around me were silent.
"Who will stand by my side?"
Tramor was at my side almost before I finished speaking.
"I will, my Lord!"
Tristan pushed his way to the front and knelt before me.
"Will you take me, my Lord?"
I smiled a fierce smile.
"I could not ask for better. Come!"
The portcullis up, the drawbridge fell with a crash and side by side, we strode forward through the smoke to stand in the great arched entrance to Merlin's invincible fortress.
We let them come to us, and slowly the numbers that came forward to challenge us hand to hand, diminished.
I signaled to the band behind us and we ran across the drawbridge to take the fight to them.
It was hard and bloody.
Many losses and wounded on both sides.
Sweet Jesu! How many more of them?
"My Lord, you must come! It is Lord Tristan, he has fallen! He is dying!"
They took me to where he lay under the drawbridge stanchions.
I sank to my knees and lifted his head onto my lap.
"Lady Gwennith? And Lord Melor?"
"Lord Melor has fallen too, Lord; Lady Gwennith tends him."
"Find Sir Tramor! Tell him, the Queen is needed."
My captains were demanding that I return that the men might see me.
Soon, soon.
She came, Lady Branwen behind her.
"He is dying."
Gently she lifted his head from my lap to hers.
"No!" She said fiercely. "I will not let him. Go, my Lord, you are needed."
I went with my captains knowing that she would fight for him but with my heart sick at her love for him.
Not for me.
The tide turned at last; we knew that the day would be ours.
Diarmid fled with the remains of his army to his boats and home to Erin.
I stood, bloodied and unwashed, unhurt, and looked around at the dreadful aftermath.
The dead and the living to count, the wounded to be cared for and I, their king who led them into this, must speak to each man, words of comfort and reassurance.
Tomos, my body servant came with my armourer to unbuckle me.
"My Lord." he murmured. "The Queen awaits." and nodded to the gateway.
She stood there patiently, the smoke and mist swirling around her, waiting for me.
"He is dead?"
"No, my Lord, he will live. But we lost Lord Melor. We have put Tristan in a boat, Lady Gwennith goes with him to Breidzh. They leave with the tide. Perhaps you may wish to see them before they go."
I said nothing.
"Do I have your permission to leave?"
A short curt nod and I turned back to the carnage that lay around.
I climbed wearily, at last, to my chamber. It was cool and all calmness. Tomos waited with water and towels. I sent him away, sluiced myself down and pulled on a clean shirt and bracchae.
I went barefoot to the window; the Britannic sea, as far as the horizon, was crimson and gold with the end of this dreadful day.
I looked below to where a boat, small and black against the bright reflection of the dying sun, slid out of the harbour towards Breidzh.
I lay wearily on my bed and slept.
.
.
I awoke with the new morn and met with my captains.
Together we inspected the castle, our defences, our armaments. I visited the wounded again, checked the lists of the prisoners and of the dead, and worst of all, tried speak comfort to the widows and children and to reassure them as to security.
It was some time before I realised that Tramor was not at the castle. My captains knew naught of his whereabouts.
We were to check the lists again when I remembered the small boat slipping out of the harbour and realised of course, he was escort to the Queen.
With a fair sky and a following wind, he would be back in Kernow within four, maybe five days.
It was almost twice that when, in the Privy Council Chamber, I noticed Steffan, my seneschal and Brother Martin, my scrivener shifting uneasily.
I looked up from the spread scrolls. Tramor stood quietly before my table waiting for my attention. I tossed the quill on the table and jerked my head at the other two to leave us.
"You took your time." I said coldly leaning back in my chair.
'Only as much as was needed, Lord."
"With fair winds, it needs only five days to Breidzh and back."
"At your command my Lord, we escorted the Queen to where she wanted to go. She did not wish to go to Breidzh. She wished "
I held up my hand to silence him.
"I have no wish to know." My tone was even more frigid. "You may go."
He made no move and I raised a haughty eyebrow.
His cloak was twisted up in front of him in a bundle; he hitched it up awkwardly.
"Your command, Lord, was to escort the Queen, with her goods and chattels. When we left her, the Queen …" he stopped at my chilling look, then continued.
"She took only what she brought with her; the dowry that the King of Erin settled on her, her jewels, her furs. The dowry from you, the furs and jewels you gave her, her palfrey, all these she left.
And this."
He unwrapped his cloak and dropped a squirming wriggling creature gently to the floor. She ran eagerly to my feet, jumping up on me, yapping with excitement.
Mab.
I pushed her down.
My eyes met Tramor's.
"Is that everything?"
He nodded.
"That will be the dog."
He picked her up but she squirmed down and ran back again to jump on me.
"Sit!" I snapped at her.
Mab sat at my feet, giving little whimpering demands for my attention.
I jerked my head for Tramor to go. I looked down at her,
"You were rejected also?"
I watched her nudge my leg, listened to her little begging whines.
"Come then, little lady."
I reached down and lifted her onto my lap, her little body wriggling with joy.
Her yelps of delight alternating with licking of my face.
I curled her into me, stroking her head.
In the days and months that followed, she was at my heels everywhere, a little blonde shadow, and at night, she slept at the foot of my bed.
.
.~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~~*~~~~~~.
.
Part Two Mordred Came
.
It was a sign of his misery that he came alone, without even his body servant. That he had been to see his mother was a sign of the one who had inflicted that pain, and of how deep that misery was.
Morgause always took every opportunity to control her sons, to hurt them if for any reason they had offended her. Mordred, while loving her, had been hurt so many times by her, that he tried to keep away from her. Needing to get away from Camelot, he had given in to her repeated requests and had visited her.
He had told me, many years ago when we were boys of sixteen, that he loved Guinevere, his father's wife.
I am certain that his mother knew; certain too, that at Camelot, only Arthur did not know.
As everyone knew that Guinevere and Lancelot had been lovers for many years.
Except, unbelievable as it might seem, Mordred.
In her malice, Morgause had told him about Guinevere and Lancelot.
He arrived at Castle D'Or, more wretched and tormented than I had seen him in many years. He found the words difficult to get out but at last he told me.
"Mother said that Lancelot is the Queen's lover. She said that he has been so for many years … the whole court knows...I do not believe it. I cannot...
Is it so, Marke?
You know how it is?
You would tell me, Marke?"
I waited, thinking how to say it.
His voice shaking. "It is so, is it not?"
I did not answer.
"Mighty Arawn! Tell me!"
"Mordred, Mordred."
"How long have you known?"
I shrugged.
"I do not know, Mordred. Since I was a boy."
A harsh gasp of breath escaped him.
"And my father, does he know?"
"Merlin tried to explain to me once..."
"Merciful Old Ones! Merlin knew too?"
He wept, silently, the tears pouring down his cheeks.
.
We talked and rode; we rode through the day.
We talked through the nights.
Neither of us drank much, just hammered our way around our thoughts.
At last, Mordred said he was ready to return to Camelot.
"My father will need my support. There are those that talk treason."
"You will say nothing?"
"There are enough saying plenty. I would not hurt my father so."
"And Lance?"
"I will find that difficult but I will say nothing."
.
.~~~~~*~~~~~
He said nothing but I was to learn over the months, that whispers were being poured into Arthur's ears, whispers for which Mordred was to be blamed.
Poison was poured too, into Mordred's disbelieving ears. Many of the Companions of the Table Round, dissatisfied and jealous, schemed and plotted and laid traps. Mordred desperate to prove them wrong, went with them. The triumphant knights, to Mordred's sickened horror, led Arthur to find the Queen and Lancelot together.
Oh! how I knew that trap.
Lancelot escaped Camelot but Guinevere fell into the hands of Arthur's treacherous lords.
Using his laws, they tried and found her guilty, before Arthur and his son.
Guilty, they said.
Guilty as charged and sentenced to the stake.
The day that the sentence was to be carried out, Lancelot and his troop of knights broke into Camelot's keep and carried the Queen off.
Some say that Arthur's defences were weak, deliberately so.
Some say that the Queen escaped to a convent, others that Lancelot let her go.
Whichever, the King retook the queen and held her away from Camelot at Sherborne Abbey.
Arthur's Companions filled with bloodlust and wanting revenge, persuaded him to pursue Lancelot to punish him.
"This is the law." they said. "Your law. The same law for all. Why should Lancelot du Lac escape justice?"
Arthur, seemingly unable to hold out against them, agreed to take a punitive force to the Joyous Garde, Lance's demesne in Aquitaine.
Aware that treachery might be afoot, that he might even lose his life, he made Mordred his Regent. Concerned too about Guinevere, he asked Mordred to protect her.
The weeks passed.
Word came of attacks by the Saxon Hordes on on the eastern boundaries of Arthur's kingdom; Mordred was pressed hard by them, though I knew he could hold them.
News of Arthur trickled through; of some skirmishes easily won, advancing across Lancelot's demesne, then a worn and exhausted messenger from Mordred rode in to tell me that the High King had died.
Even in my grief, I knew that Mordred had need of me. I put what was necessary in place at Castle D'Or with Tramor in command and I returned with the courier to Camelot.
The weather was awful as only Kernow could be when the Westerly gales sweep across it. We struggled on and had reached the border, when, the wind dropping for a few moments, we could hear voices, behind us, faintly calling. We waited: it was two messengers from Castle D'Or.
Just after we had left, a small boat had sailed into the harbour below the castle. Headed for one of Camelot's ports, it had been blown off course. It had held a messenger from France. Arthur was alive; he had been sick but was no longer in danger. He would remain for a few weeks to get stronger and then return to Camelot.
We continued with our journey. For Mordred's love of his father; he should know the good news as soon as he could be told.
When we rode into Camelot's stable yard, all was not as I would have expected.
It was subdued, yes!
Not quite partying. No, not quite.
But mourning? No, nor that!
I dismounted and threw Dark Star's reins to an ostler. He did not meet my eyes.
"The Prince, where is he?"
"He has retired, my Lord."
I ran up the steps into the palace.
There was a slack slovenliness about Arthur's beautiful Great Hall. Gasps and mutters ran around it as I entered.
"Where is the Prince?" I asked again.
"He is a-bed, my Lord. The King's Bedchamber."
The tone of the response was sneering and impertinent.
I made for the Great Stairs.
"I do not think you should..'
I turned and stared haughtily at the knight who spoke.
His voice died away.
I continued fast up to Arthur's bedchamber. There were no guards in the corridors or before its door.
I opened the door and went straight in.
"Sweet Jesu!"
Mordred was in the centre of the chamber, naked under his loosely fastened chamber robe, a goblet of wine in each hand.
In the tumbled sheets and furs of Arthur's great bed, Guinevere lay languid and sated, her small smile was one of the cat that at last has had the cream.
She raised a lazy and amused eyebrow.
"Are you accustomed to bursting into a lady's bed chamber, my lord King?
"Jesu!" I said again. "Get dressed, cousin. A word with you, alone!"
"There is nothing that you cannot say before Guinevere. We are to be wed."
"Wed? Christos, Mordred! How can this be?"
"Oh Mordred, ignore him." Guinevere 's creamy voice came. "He was always a sanctimonious little prig. He has nothing to say to us."
"No, my Lady? What think you of 'your husband is still alive?"
When Mordred joined me in the outer chamber, the horror that he had betrayed his father out weighed the joy that previously had been uppermost. His defence poured out.
' I went to her, when I learnt my father was dead. My thoughts were that she should know; that in her distress she would need comfort. She was in sore fear of the Round Table Companions. She knew their thoughts about her. She feared that they would imprison her; send her to the stake again. She threw herself into my protection. I brought her back here to Camelot. And …"
"She seduced you." I said flatly.
"No! No, of course not. It was I."
He saw the scepticism on my face and turned away.
"You never liked her."
He was filled with horror and yet, he found loss of Guinevere unbearable.
"I will not give her up. She loves me. She never loved him. Only me! He never loved her."
"Is that what she told you? You know Arthur loved her."
He turned away.
"She needs me. I will fight for her. My lords will support me. The Company of the Knights of the Round Table is finished."
"Mordred, Arthur is still your King!" And I added in a lower voice, "and your father."
"I cannot give her up."
But there was no need, for come the morn, Guinevere had gone.
She would always choose which was best for Guinevere: and Arthur was still High King.
.
Arthur arrived back in a Kingdom racked by Saxon attacks and defiant lords, dissatisfied and greedy, pushing his son to rebel. Behind him, his loyal lords, calling for him to punish Mordred, ready to fight.
I met with Mordred on the border of Arthur's kingdom and Kernow. He still held Camelot.
He was thin and pale.
"There will be battle, Marke. I do not want it. My lords are determined on it. My father's lords too." his voice broke. "It seems he is set on it."
"Will you fight for him?"
I hesitated before I answered.
"Arthur is my liege lord. But in this, no. I will not fight for him. Neither will I fight for you. Where is Guinevere?"
"I do not know."
He looked defeated.
.
When I left Mordred, I turned north and bore east until I came to Applegarth.
"I wondered when you would come." Vivian said.
I leaned back in Merlin's chair and closed my eyes.
I heard the clink of a goblet set down to my hand.
"I am tired."
"Yes" she said, and waited.
"There will be war, Vivian."
She made a little sound of agreement.
"Arthur has the right in this. Guinevere is his wife, but Mordred has loved her from a boy. He is a babe in her hands. I will not take sides. This I have told Mordred. I will tell Arthur the same. I cannot fight for one against the other. I love them both."
I brooded a while before i asked.
"Vivian, have you 'Seen' anything?"
"I know only that times will be hard for some little time but peace will come and Britain will be safe in your lifetime and mine."
I had watched her through lowered lids; she knew more but none that she would tell.
I asked no more of her.
Nor did she ask aught of me, though I had thought she might.
"You will go to Arthur tomorrow?"
I nodded.
"Rest here tonight, have supper with me and be on your way early tomorrow."
I slept that night in Merlin's great bed.
Alone.
I did not have to.
I chose to do so.
.
. ~~~~~~*~~~~~~.
What happened that day at Camlann, I remembered only later; the horror of it coming back to me in flashes.
I was still with Arthur when the news came that Mordred was less than an hour's march away. Two great armies gathered on that plain.
Arthur wanted to speak with Mordred.
I rode to speak with Mordred and give him his father's message.
We returned together and he waited while I told Arthur that Mordred would not fight. Arthur wearily waited to speak with him. I raised my hand to call Mordred to his father's side and I rode away leaving them together.
Behind the lines, I dismounted.
"My lord." A boy sank to his knee beside me. "My Lord King sent me. I saw him, this morning at sunrise but I did not find you until now."
The boy was gasping for breath.
"What is it?
"The King sent me back behind the lines. I wanted to fight for him but he said to find you and to tell you to take me back to Kernow with you. To tell you never to forget Camelot."
His breathing was easier now.
"What is your name, boy? "
"Tom, my Lord, Thomas Malory"
"Thomas, go to my tent and find my body servant. He is Tomos too. Go you, now... for on days like this, friend and foe alike are shadows in the mist. And friend will slay friend not knowing whom he slays.
Confusion will reign since each sees not whom he fights."
I heard a great roar and turned to see Mordred fall. I learnt later that Arthur had met Mordred on foot before the linen covered table where Excalibur lay.
Mordred had told Arthur he would not fight. He knelt to swear allegiance and began to unsheathe his sword to proffer to Arthur. As he was doing so, Arthur saw a viper slither from under the clothed table behind Mordred. It coiled around, its flat head raised to strike at him. Arthur seized Excalibur from the table, slashing off its head.
A soldier's fast reaction.
He slipped in the churned up mud, and reaching out, clasped Mordred's arm to prevent himself from falling.
Mordred, misunderstanding his father's movement, thrust upward with his sword between the plates of Arthur 's armour and following through, thrust again into Arthur until, too late, he saw the viper that his father had decapitated.
In despair, he threw his sword away and, seizing Excalibur's blade, pulled it into himself, using his father's falling weight to thrust the great sword further into himself.
A great roar went up as both armies, seeing the flash of steel, believed it to be the signal to arms.
The thunder of hooves, clash of steel, shouts, the screams of men and horses.
It began.
I drove Dark Star through to the horrendous bloodshed where my cousins lay. I signaled to Mordred's squires to come. I threw myself down to kneel at Arthur's side.
"Arthur," He opened his eyes but the light was fading from them.
"Marke..." my name was a gasp of breath. " Marke…Britain …Merlin saw …" A pink froth appeared on his lips. He dragged in another breath. And out.
HIs blood gushed over me but his eyes were on mine. He tried to lift a hand but it was too much for him. I bent down to him to hear what he was trying to say.
Again, he moved his hand.
I took it.
"Marke" It was barely above a whisper," Marke… Never forget that the King's peace is bought with the sword … a heavy price to be paid.
Merlin knew … knew you would follow.…
To you, I throw the torch from these failing hands….hold it high to guide our wounded country..."
I thought he had gone, for his grip on my hand fell away, but he took another dreadful breath.
I summoned the trumpeters to call the 'cease arms' but they were of little use to stop the charge.
There was no way of stopping this blood lust.
I knelt again at Arthur's side. "Bedivere... to me..."
"My Lord?" Arthur's squires questioned me."The King said to carry him to the edge of the sedge, to the little hut at that we would find there. May we?"
I nodded and they bore him away to tend him.
I left the field and made my way to where the wounded and dying lay.
Mordred's body servant stood waiting for me.
I looked at him questioning but he shook his head.
"Prince Mordred is gone, my Lord."
But this I already knew in my heart.
"Call me when all is ready. We will mark his passing with all honours, as befits the son and grandson of kings.
Arthur's squire came.
"The King?"
He shook his head.
" He may well hold on for a little while, Lord but not long, I think. He said Excalibur must be returned to the Lady of the Lake. Lord Bedivere has taken it there. The King will wait until the Ladies come. Go you, my Lord, to those whom you may still help."
I turned to go, then turned back.
"The Ladies?" I asked.
"I do not know, my Lord. My Lord Arthur said ' Take me to yon hut. I will wait there till the Ladies come. They will come."
So many lost their lives that day.
At its end, we did, indeed, mark Mordred's passing with all honors, building him a great pyre according to the rites of the Old Ones, whom he had followed.
As for Arthur, no man saw his going.
'Tis said that four Queens bore him on a black draped barge into the mists of the Summer County to be buried on Avalon there.
Some believe he lies sleeping in a cave, waiting to be awakened to defend his beloved land.
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Part 3 Finale
In Arthur's scrolls and parchments, his lords found his will and in it, the words 'My Crown to my most beloved son, Mordred.
Should the Prince Mordred predecease me, then the Crown to my beloved cousin, Marke of Kernow.'
It took time to clear the plain, to bury the dead, to care for the wounded. When we returned to Camelot, we found that renegade lords, deserting the field, had pillaged the castle, firing it, tearing down what they could, stealing what they could carry away.
I decided against rebuilding it.
What was the point? Arthur's Camelot was gone.
I could allow its remaining stones and wood to be used by those who had need of them.
I could bring order again to his kingdom; hold his borders against the marauding Saxons in the east and the Picts in the North.
I could bind his Kingdom and mine...
I kept young Tom Malory near me, a reminder of Arthur's words to me.
'Never forget Camelot'
I reflected much on this.
I did not need to rebuild Camelot to remember.
Camelot is an ideal to live by.
.
The King's Justice for all.
Trial by peers.
Might Is not Right.
.
Arthur, Mordred and Merlin would always be in my heart.
Gawain and Gareth, the twins Gaheris and Agravaine, Pellinore and Lance.
Bedivere, Kay and those others who died on Camlann's field.
They will not be forgotten.
Camelot, in my mind, will still be there in its glory, on the side of the Mendips.
I will not let it be forgotten. It will live in the minds and hearts of Arthur's people, and mine.
Their children and their children' children.
.
It took time to bring some semblance of order to the land; time to build the defences on the eastern coast against the Saxon hordes.
All through the rest of that summer, autumn and winter.
All through the next spring, to a second summer, a second autumn riding across the two kingdoms again and again: to bring peace to the land.
Were they necessary, those long months away?
Was it so?
I returned at last to Castle D'Or. I had been on the north coast for several weeks, Tramor with me. He had accompanied me to my chambers, although he must have been as weary as I.
"Go home, Tramor!"
"My Lord." A smile of thanks, a bow of the head and he was gone.
It had been several years now, that he had had a house just inside the castle walls.
I poured a horn of ale and wandered over to the window. Tramor was running lightly down the steps. There was a squealing.
"Dada, Dada."
Two young children detached themselves from a group of youngsters playing near the armoury door; they flung themselves to clasp Tramor around the legs.
I was envious.
The force of it flooded me and I leant against the wall and closed my eyes.
Any man in my Kingdom, in his cottage, with his loving wife, his children at his feet, was richer by far than I.
My cold, empty, lonely life.
I could fill my nights easily, should I wish. There were plenty who would share the King's bed, but there was no-one that I wanted.
Yet I could not bear the loneliness of Castle D'Or.
Into my head slid a tart young voice that I had not heard for some time.
' So, Marke! You are still feeling sorry for yourself?'
Drawenna. A small smile formed on my mouth. Still telling me what I should do.
' Well, you know how to rectify matters.'
Her voice was already drifting away.
.
Winter was late coming. Lovely autumn days, mild clear nights.
I was in my council chamber.
"My lord, a boat has arrived with a messenger from Breidzh."
The parchment was in my sister's hand and sealed with her seal.
Messages from Breidzh were rare, my sister deeming it wise.
I put it to one side until I was alone.
There was no formal heading.
It was short and to the point.
Marke,
Brother,
You should know that on the Spring equinox, 25th of last month, Tristan married the daughter of his sworn lord Hoel. Her name is Iseult of the White Hands.
I am well.
Your sister
Gwennnith
.
I miss you.
.
So Tristan was married.
It floated continuously around my mind. Two, three days.
Tramor had had leave and was back on duty.
When I retired that night, I nodded for him to stay, pushing a goblet of wine towards him. He sat in silence as he always did.
"My sister wrote to me that Tristan has married the daughter of Lord Hoel."
I waited. He said nothing.
"What think you?"
He swirled the wine around in its goblet, watching it, before he answered.
"Lord, he is a young man. He has no overlord now. He needs no man's say so."
Silence again.
"Aught else?"
"Perhaps there are some in the Kingdom who should know."
I mulled this over.
"If there are, then, of a certainty, would not Tristan have told them?"
"Of a certainty! If he knew where they might be."
"Would not these others have told Tristan where they might be found?"
"Perhaps so, Lord."
"But you do not think so?"
He gestured, opening his hands.
"I cannot say, Lord."
We sat in silence yet again.
"You may go. Goodnight."
My tone was surly, although my churlishness was not directed at him.
The next three days, I spent riding hard, from dawn till dusk, with sour looks behind my back from the small troop that accompanied me.
I returned early to the castle, handing over Dark Star to a stable boy and took the great steps three at a time, straight up to my chamber.
Startled, Tomos said, "My Lord, we were not expecting you back so soon."
I threw down my riding gauntlets.
"Find Sir Tramor!"
I jerked my head to dismiss Tomos and stood, my arm resting on the stone mantel shelf, staring into nowhere, listening for his footsteps to come fast through the outer chamber.
"My Lord?"
"Where is she?"
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It took us, Tramor, two troopers and I, three days to cross the great moors and come at last to the Abbey at Glastonbury. I wore no armour or crown, only my riding leathers and a narrow gold band set on a cap.
I sent them on to the hostellery of the monastery at the far side of the Abbey and went to the Convent.
The grill in the door slid back in response to my knock.
"I wish to see the Queen of Kernow." I asked of the janitress.
Calm grey eyes observed me keenly before replying.
"There are no queens here, my Lord."
"Then I will see the Mother Abbess. My name is Marke Cunomorus."
A tiny flicker of her eyebrows showed me that she had recognised my name.
She nodded graciously and shut the grill again.
In a very short time, the door opened and she ushered me down a wide corridor. It was bright with lime wash, the floor highly polished and smelled of beeswax and lavender. She led me through one door, along the cloister, to knock on another.
We were bid enter and a tall stately woman rose from behind a writing table.
"My Lord King, I bid you welcome."
"You know me?"
"How not? I was at court when Arthur the King knighted you. Also, I met Prince Merlin many times before I entered the religious life."
A faint smile.
"The resemblance is remarkable."
The smile was there but her hands trembled; she pressed them hard on the table and the slight tremor disappeared.
"How may I help you?"
"Mother Abbess, the captain of my Life Guards told me that he brought the Queen here, but the janitress tells that is not so."
"My Lord King, we do not use titles inside the convent walls. The Queen is known as Lady Iseult."
"I wish to see the Queen."
My tone was chilly and showed that my control was slipping.
"I will send to Lady Iseult, and if she..."
"Mother Abbess, I have ridden three days to come here. Please do not try my patience any further."
She tipped her head in acknowledgement and rang a tiny bell.
A young novice came; plain, big and awkward, and more than a little simple.
"Sister Agnes, please find Lady Iseult and tell her I wish to see her in the guest solar.
And Sister Agnes! Please remember not to run. Decorum at all times.
If you would come with me, my Lord."
Down a seemingly interminable passage, she led me through a small antechamber into a larger more comfortable chamber.
"I will ask Sister cellarer to bring you some food, and drink? Ale, wine or cider if you prefer?"
"Thank you, no."
Again that gracious but cool nod as she left.
I cared not.
I wandered around the room; I went to the window and peered out. I flung myself in a chair, got up, took off my cap and band and ran my hands through my hair. I sat again throwing my cap down onto a small table and again I got up and went to the window.
The latch clicked and she was there, small and fragile.
Isolda.
I bowed awkwardly to her and she dropped a small, neat curtsey, pointing to a chair, sat in another.
I searched for the right words.
"My Lady… My Lady umm... I have no wish for you to think I come out of malice..."
I chewed my lip.
I blurted it out, "My Lady, Tristan is married."
Her brows faintly raised, she moistened her lips and said,"My Lord, I wish him well; I shall always do so, but his marriage is nothing to me."
She watched me prowl across the chamber and back.
"Have you taken Holy Orders?"
She was dressed in the habit of the order of the nuns at the convent.
"How could I, even if I so wished?"
Another silence.
"Is there anything you wish to ask?" I asked.
A soft "No."
"Then I shall not impose further on Mother Abbess's hospitality."
At the door, I stopped and without turning, said "You are thin."
She made no reply.
.
The simple child escorted me to the gate. I heard the janitress scold her as I left.
"Do not run, Sister Agnes. Hands in sleeves and walk at all times."
I crossed the Abbey Close to join Tramor in the monastery hostellery but instead I turned and went into the Abbey.
I sat on a bench at the rear of the soaringly beautiful building, my head in my hands.
Blessed Virgin, help me.
Behind me, the great door of the Abbey opened, footsteps approached and someone sat beside me.
Tramor.
He waited.
"Sweet Jesu, Tramor! What should I do?"
"Lord, only you know what it is that you want. I cannot tell you."
We sat in silence together. It was not long before he left to return to the hostellery.
I sat a while longer before I returned to the convent.
"I wish to leave a message for the Lady Iseult. Should there be an answer, I shall be in the Abbey."
.
The lovely day had begun to lose its brightness and deepen into a pale mauve before the latch of the door from the cloister into the Abbey clicked and the slip-slap of ungainly feet drew nearer.
"My um My Lul ord King."
It was then that I realised that the girl was not simple, merely terrified of me, and ill fitting sandals were the cause of her awkward gait.
"Mother Abbess wishes to see me, Sister Agnes?"
I smiled up at her and her plainness was dissolved into sweetness by her smile and the goodness and kindness in her eyes.
"Let us go, then."
She took me back along the cloisters to Mother Abbess's office.
"The Lady Iseult is in the nursery dormitory."
At my questioning glance, Mother Abbess continued.
"We have a small orphanage here at the Convent. Lady Iseult helps with the babies at bedtime."
She took me along yet another interminable corridor, ushered me into a largish chamber and left me. It held some small beds and several small stools. Though it was not yet dark, heavy curtains were already partly drawn at the windows.
Isolda was bending over a cradle shushing a babe. There were two more asleep in high sided cots. Three young children were running about and an even younger one shuffling across the room on its bottom. Two serving maids stood at a table, folding small garments.
Isolda stood.
She had changed her clothes from the cream linen habit to a turquoise gown under a tabard of darkest blue. Her hair was caught up in a gold net and covered with a small fine violet veil held in place by a narrow gold circlet.
The bottom-shuffling child had reached her feet and was attempting to pull itself up to stand by her gown. It mumbled something. She smiled, reached down and lifted the child up into her arms. It patted her face.
"Mama." it said. My stunned glance met hers.
The babe, realising it did not have her full attention, turned to see who did.
I knew its face. I knew its eyes.
It pulled off its night cap, uncovering dark feathery curls. I lost the breath from my body and the room swung around.
"No! No, sweeting! Cap on, sleepy time now."
She put the babe into a high sided cot, tucking the woollen blankets about it, whispering softly.
She blew a kiss to the child, and murmuring something to the maids, led me in silence back along the corridor to the guest solar where we had first met. She took a spill from the hearth to light two candles on the mantel shelf.
She stood, her back to the wall, her hands pressed hard into it.
"The child."
It was a statement not a question.
She did not reply.
"You chose not to send word to me?"
I could hear the roughness of anger in my voice.
She straightened, her head high, bright patches of colour on her cheeks.
"Should I have done so, my Lord? Have you forgotten your last words to me? I have not! 'I do not believe you.' you said."
"This is different!"
"Is it?"
I bowed my head. Her answer drove out my anger. Mortification came first, then jealousy took its place, tearing through me again as dreadful as those first days.
"Did you send him word?" I whispered.
"Why should I do that? He is nothing to me."
I tried to find some sense in the turmoil that was my mind.
"And I? Was I nothing to you?
I chewed the inside of my cheek trying to think what to say next.
"Since Arthur died, I have tried to mend his kingdom and mine. To bind them together against our country's enemies. It has been hard. I thought I might be able to do it with you by my side. I hoped that you would return to Castle D'Or with me.
I need you with me. "
"And your offer is now withdrawn?"
"Sweet God!" I turned to the window resting my forehead against the mullions.
"No. Christos, no. Isolda, why are you doing this? Is this a test? Are you playing games with me or exacting a cruel punishment?" I said barely above a whisper. " God only knows the misery my life has been without you."
"And the child?"
I turned back.
"The child! You need to ask? Do you think I am blind? Its name is written on its face. My face, my eyes, my hair."
" I see it every day. I do not need you to tell me, I knew that summer. Before Tristan returned from Breidzh."
"You knew you carried? You said nothing." My tone was slow and accusing.
"It was too soon. Anything might have happened. So much did happen."
In my mind's eye, I saw my hand splayed against her face, pushing her down until she fell on the cell floor.
Christos, forgive me.
I moved slowly across the room to stand before her. For the first time this day, her eyes held mine, clear and honest, sparkling with unshed tears.
" Forgive me! For all that has happened. The child... It "
She laid her fingers on my mouth.
"I love you, Marke. I have never stopped loving you. If you want me, I will come. But the babe, if you keep saying it...I think I might slap you. His, him. Not it. He is a boy."
Her lovely mouth curved in a small smile.
Not for the first time that day, my breath left my body.
In the shock of the last hour, I had given no thought to the babe as a living breathing child.
A boy.
"What is he called?"
"He is named for his father and his Grandfather.
Marke Constantine Cunomorus but he answers to Merlin."
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NOTES
Isolda Is usually depicted with a small dog, a greyhound, particularly in the painting 'La Belle Iseult' by William Morris at the Tate Britain Gallery, London.
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Horatius defends the Bridge.
"Then out spake brave Horatius,
the Captain of the gate,
To every man upon this earth,
Death cometh soon or late.
And how man die better
Than facing fearful odds,
For the ashes of his fathers
and the temples of his gods.
…..
I, with two more to help me
Will hold the foe in play.
In yon straight path, a thousand
May well be stopped by three.
Now who will stand on either hand
and keep the bridge with me."
Excerpt from
Lays of Ancient Rome by Thomas, Lord Macaulay
.~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~*~~~~~~
"To you, we throw the torch from our failing hands.
Hold it high to guide our wounded country"
I 'borrowed' this for Arthur. It seemed to me something Arthur might have said.
It is from the poem Vitai Lampada (trans: the Torch of Life) by Henry Newbolt.
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