28. Lost dreams

"No rest for the wicked" Angus joked clumsily, but tonight even his poor gift for jesting brought a smile to Arthur's face.

After this day's victory, nothing could destroy the King's good humour.

Not even the fact that Leon's earlier declaration that "it was over" had to be taken with a big grain of salt.

When the battle was won, the victor's work would just begin.

Prisoners had to be taken care of, the lists of dead and wounded soldiers had to be acknowledged, the whereabouts of the scattered enemy troops had to be ascertained, and so on and so on and so on.

It was not before the deep of night that Arthur fell on his bed, closed his eyes, and was out as a light.

He rarely slept so soundly outside the security of the citadel, but the combination of exhaustion and the confidence that everything was, for once, well in hand and settled, ousted his usual caution.

His last conscious thought went to Guinivere and the boy. After today's crushing defeat, Lancelot and Erec would have no choice but to release their prisoners, of that Arthur was absolutely sure.

For the first time in many a month, he was without worries.

He wasn't the only one in the Camelot encampment who felt that way. Unnoticed to anyone, the vertiginous joy of success led to an air of carelessness. The guards, soldiers, even Leon and the knights had been tested to their limits, and now, when it fell off, the strain finally took its toll.

It was for that reason alone that a hooded figure, sneaking furtively from cover to cover, from shadow to shadow like a ghost, could make it into the royal tent unseen.

As it was, the uninvited visitor had to shake Arthur's shoulder to rouse him.

This one time, the King did not dart off his bed at the slightest disturbance, but he woke slowly, grudgingly.

When Arthur finally realized that something was wrong, it was too late for any kind of resistance. He grabbed the hand that pressed down on his mouth by the wrist to push it away, but the sharp blade pressed at his throat stopped him.

"Hold still" the stranger hissed urgently. "For God's sake, Arthur, I came to talk to you, nothing else!"

The man pulled down the hood of his coat and in the light of the one remaining candle Arthur did not trust his eyes when he recognized the face of Lancelot du Lac.

"Be quiet" Lancelot repeated. "Please. I mean you no harm." Reluctantly he took his hand off Arthur's face.

"You could take the knife away, too" Arthur whispered. "It would be more convincing."

"Are you willing to talk?" Lancelot asked back, in the same low tone. "About my family?"

"That's odd" Arthur retorted, holding the other's intent gaze. "I thought it is my family!"

With a deep sigh, Lancelot sheathed his blade, and stepped back, allowing Arthur to sit up. If the King wanted to attack him, or scream for help, he was free to do so now.

Instead Pendragon crossed his legs and looked at his visitor questioningly. "I take it you and your bosom-friend Erec are having some domestics?"

"That's one way to put it" Lancelot said. He looked worn out, tired and beaten. "You could also say I'm an idiot. I've made a fool of myself."

"I could have told you so before. I did, actually. You never listened."

"And we both know why. You'd got everything I ever wanted. I'm not talking about your Crown or property. I loved Guinivere when you still were too much of a coward to admit your feelings, even to yourself. And Galahad is my son, we both know that."

"Then why aren't the three of you blissfully happy, sailing into the sunset to some paradise forlorn? What brings you here, my gallant Lord?"

"I need your help. What else could it be? Gwen and the boy are no longer safe with me. I've chosen the wrong friends and I will not let them endanger the two last people dear to me on this earth."

"Baron du Lac, you should have spared yourself the trouble. We'll be in front of your castle gates the day after tomorrow. Just send my wife and son out to me then, and we can talk about anything else later."

"You do not understand…"

"Oh, but I do. Erec came back with his tail between his legs and you got scared shitless. Now you're crawling back to me to save your worthless skin, and as it isn't very probable that I will be fool enough to take you back, you are trying to earn my trust by some made-up coat-and-dagger game."

Lancelot combed his five fingers through his hair before he replied "this isn't about you and me anymore. I've lost everything, beyond recovery, I know that. But I implore you, you must believe me that I never meant any harm to my love or our son. The Black Duke is blaming all that went wrong on Guinivere. He's going to kill her and Galahad under a charge of sorcery."

Arthur winced violently. But Lancelot had lied through his teeth in the past, so very often…. "Spare me the cock-and-bull story" Pendragon therefore said angrily. "Erec is much too clever to harm them. They're his only bargaining chips. And a Black Duke, goodness gracious me! Every court minstrel apprentice could think of something more convincing."

"Erec has no say in the matter. He's dependent on the Gaulish Duke, now that we're beaten. I'm no longer in control of my own men, or of my castle. The Gaulish are in command; together with the two complete deployments of Saxons the Duke kept with him, with their leaders Hengist and Horsa hanging on his every word.

"You can hardly expect me to believe anything of this nonsense …."

"For God's sake, Arthur, this is Guinivere's life we're talking about. Can't you get that into this thick head of yours? What do you want me to do, kneel to you, cry, beg, surrender to your men? You tell me, I do it. But you must believe me!"

Arthur leaned back against the tent post with an indifference mostly feigned. "So what is the big plan, eh? I forgive you, I grant you your life and suddenly the big black monster is gone or what?"

"You grant Erec his life and a safe passage to wherever he wants, with all the possessions he's taking with him. In exchange for that, you can take Guinivere and Galahad with you, today if you want. With me, you can do whatever you want, I do no longer care."

"All right" Arthur said whilst rising. "Fine. As I said, we'll reach you castle soon enough, then we can put that all in writing. I wish you a good night."

"Erec wants to hear it from your own mouth. Or else…."

"Or else what?"

"Or else he'll not hinder the Black Duke when he comes for Gwen and the boy."

"So it is tonight or never, yes? And naturally I would have to come alone, unarmed, as you demanded in your challenge to me. Well and good, I told your messenger I'd accept your challenge. But in public, before witnesses, under the knights' code. I'll not go with you like a lamb to the butcher."

Lancelot closed his eyes in despair. "I know you have little reason to trust me" he said with forced calm. "There's no friendship lost between you and me that wasn't lost more than a decade ago."

Pendragon flinched when the other suddenly fell to his knees and took both of the King's hands in his. "Arthur, I swear to you by all that's ever been sacred to me, if you will not come with me tonight, to grant Erec's terms, she'll die. I beg you, with all my heart. You know me. Would I do this to myself if it wasn't for her and my son?"

"You mean, would you bow to a fraudster, a mean, base liar who cheated himself unto his father's throne? Wasn't that the opinion you had when you kneeled to me, when you kissed my hand to get the Barony I gave to you, the heiress I laid into your bed, the titles, lands and fortunes I bestowed on you? Where was your pride back then, My Lord Lancelot?" Arthur's throat was raw and sore; it was only partly because they were still whispering, hissing at each other like enraged snakes. He had once considered this man a true, close friend. He had once trusted Guinivere unconditionally, and even after all those years, their betrayal hurt like hell. "And now you're willing to give up the love of your life, and the child of this love, to me?"

Lancelot licked his dry lips before he replied with all the vigour he could summon "you were once willing to give them up, Arthur. You ordered me to keep Guinivere and the boy safe, although it almost strangled you. You swallowed your pride for her, in the night your daughter died. If you could do as much for guinivere, can I not do the same? I degraded myself for money, should I not do the same for her?"

Arthur jumped to his feet and pushed the other back, who fell on his backside. Lancelot was half sprawled on the ground, shaking, with a face reddened by tears.

Against his will, Arthur was touched by the disgraceful sight. The man wouldn't have brought himself so low, just to save his neck. Lancelot was many things, but he wasn't a coward. Erec, on the other hand …. When one came to think of it, what was the worst that could happen? There was Excalibur, the sword would not let him down, not in a battle, not in an ambush. And, after all, they were beaten. Their backs against the wall. Exile in Gaul would mean bitter bread, and not too much of that, now, that they had nothing left to offer to the Gaulish nobles. No prospects, no hopes – Erec and Lance would be the laughing stock of every court that took them in.

Many Gaulish were known fanatics of the Christian faith, it wasn't beneath them to vent their anger on a helpless woman and her child if it meant averting blame and shame from themselves.

"Do you give me your word" Arthur said hesitatingly "your solemn word that what you're telling me is nothing but the truth?"

"I swear it" Lance retorted feverishly. "Upon my immortal soul, I swear it."

"That is between you and the God you say you believe in. As for me, if you're lying, there will be nothing immortal about you. Let's go."

To Arthur's secret dismay it did not cost them more effort to get away unseen than it had cost Lancelot to get in unnoticed. It wasn't exactly a feather in the cap of Camelot's army.

The King was still fretting a bit, unimportant as it seemed compared to the night's real business, when they came to the two horses Lancelot had hidden in safe distance to the Camelot men. What was more, slowly but surely Pendragon had pangs of conscience as he considered what Leon and the others should feel when they could not find him in the morning.

What had seemed quite logical and self-evident during the ghostly exchange in the flickering candlelight seemed crazier with every passing minute as soon as the fresh night air cleared his head.

On the spur of the moment Arthur had taken it for granted that his men would carry on as planned, take one day for resting and then march on to Erec's present hideaway. Now Pendragon asked himself if he was off his rocker. Not only would Leon and the Branguards be frantic about his disappearance, they would not budge an inch until they knew what had become of him and where to find him.

The sooner this mad trip through the night came to an end, the better it would be.

Du Lac took a few turns and detours to avoid detection, but, to Arthur's profound relief, even so two men on horseback reached the castle much sooner than expected. The first rays of sunlight were just climbing over the horizon when Lancelot led him to a small door in the outer wall that once might have been the entrance to a Lady's garden or something. Now it was iron shod and doubtlessly heavily barred from the inside.

At least it looked as if it were. But when Lancelot knocked softly against the wood, it opened at once, and a withered, unbelievably ugly old man appeared in the frame. Arthur thought that he had seen this face before, but he could not place the memory.

"Jeffrey?" Lance asked in obvious surprise. "Where's Erec?"

"In the pavilion, My Lord" the man answered. "We did not know when you would be back and Lord Erec thought it best not to wait with the woman and child in the open. We've got some early birds among the servants, yes, yes, early birds." He chuckled good-humouredly. "If we would alarm the Gaulish, we'd all be done for, would we not."

Impatiently, Arthur punched Lancelot in the back. Du Lac winced and snapped at the old servant. "Let's get on with it then."

At once the old man gave way, and the two knights swept past him. Jeffrey bowed deeply to Arthur, who barely noticed it. Lancelot walked briskly to where a roof peeped out of the treetops of a well-kept orchard, Arthur in his wake.

"You said Erec is coming too?" Arthur whispered. He was all tensed up, the thought of seeing Guinivere and Galahad made him giddy with joy; at the same time he was apprehensive of encountering the traitor and of the ride back with a man he hated and loathed.

"There are fresh mounts for the three of you" Lance muttered back. "You can take Galahad on your horse. I'll stay behind."

"What?"

"Someone has to put off the Black Duke until you've made it back to your men."

"But….."

"Shut up! This once Your Royal Majesty will do as I say, and there's an end to it."

Arthur shut his mouth. He wasn't too proud of it, but the idea that Lancelot would never trouble him again after today didn't make him exactly sad. Let the wretched fool have his last moment of bravery before he met his maker.

They reached the pavilion, and in the same instant, Arthur cast off all second thoughts and doubts.

With a stifled yelp, Guinivere flew into his arms. She buried her face in his neck and nothing, nothing at all, was important anymore.

A year. A whole year since Arthur had last seen her, last felt her body next to his!

Galahad, untroubled by the fact that his father's shoulders were already taken, found Arthur's hips a very suitable place for hugging, too.

"We don't have time for this nonsense!" That was Erec, a very nervous Erec. "Your word that I will have safe passage out of Camelot once we've reached your army, Sire!"

"You have it" Arthur said, who would have promised anything to anyone right now; the stars from the sky to a half dead leper, had he asked for them.

"Let's get out of here" the other said, and ran ahead to lead the way.

Pendragon was the last one to pass du Lac who stood aside with hanging arms; neither Guinivere nor Galahad had given him a word or at least a look of farewell.

Arthur hesitated, not even he himself knew why. "Lance…." he said.

"Get lost!" the Baron answered, and, when Arthur still lingered, he repeated it despairingly. "Get out of my sight. I could not live honourably; at least I can die the knight I wanted to be."

Arthur nodded and ran after the others. It was idiotic, but his eyes stung. How, from where Lance had once started, could the man ever have reached this point of no return?

A life that had begun with so much hope had been entirely wasted.

Yet even these thoughts vaporised when they had made it out of the castle, into the woods, where, as promised, three fresh horses were tethered to a tree, ready to speed off.

Erec fastened the two big, heavy saddle bags which presumably contained all his earthly belongings – and Arthur didn't doubt that these belongings were worth a King's ransom in nice, easily movable items – to the saddle of his mount, and leaped on the horse's back.

Arthur couldn't help himself, he grinned when he was about to mount his own mare behind Galahad, after he'd helped Guinivere into the saddle.

My, my His Lordship was a trifle afraid for his precious life.

Erec's hands twitched and fumbled with the bridle, his face was strained and as white as chalk.

"Are you all right?" Arthur asked, now himself impatient to get away.

Erec opened his mouth, but he couldn't say anything. Slowly, as limp as a rag doll, he slid off the horseback.

By then, Arthur stared uncomprehendingly at the small, dark bolt that stuck out of his hand. He felt no pain at all, but he was dizzy. His skin prickled, then it became numb.

As his eyes closed, he spotted the Saxon's soldier's grinning face between the bushes, the blowgun still in his raised hand.

A/N: Sorry, guys, I posted the wrong version earlier.