Chapter 12 [That Evening]
With Luna's ascension into the evening sky amidst the stars' revelry, Camelot shifted away from its work-a-day world. Reverence motivated the populace. While remaining behind locked doors to ward off the All Hallows' travelers from beyond the Veil, their preparations progressed. Food, candles and other offerings lay ready for the sunrise departures to their respective shrines and graves.
And in the castle, it was no different save that the remembrance started that evening. It would be memorable but for a mix of reasons…..
[Grand Hall]
[A/N: The poem in this chapter is my original work. Thanks!]
Living up to previously-laid expectations, the castellans and their guests enjoyed themselves. Platters of beef, capon and venison bowed the tables. Servants ensured that golden goblets remained eternally full for their masters and mistresses. The royals and heads of state conversed and toasted to various degrees. Some laughed and joked in good orders. Others smoldered and simply riveted their eyes toward the table.
Merlin and Britomart kept the Nemeth party well fulfilled as far as their needs were concerned.
Still not all people were as lucky….
Elena sat in the far corner of the room. Having recently ascended to the Amazon queen's throne, she didn't know many at that table. In fact, being like Gwen and Britomart, she knew more about the art of war and household oversight than diplomatic matters. Her buckskin garb elicited sneers and a few dirty looks from the other guests and even some of Arthur's knights. She stewed but kept her resolve. Having no maid of her own and refusing to lower any Amazon to that status, she sipped on the provided goblet of wine. She waited for the opportunity to serve herself. Look at how arrogant they all are. They look down on my sisters and me. How dare they? I'm as good as they are. I…. She heard a throat clearing. "Aye? I was waiting to serve myself. I…."
"And you should not have to, Queen Elena," Merlin assured her. "Can you hold your goblet out?" He raised an emerald bottle in his hand. "I'll fill it for you."
"Merlin, you should be waiting on King Rodor and Princess Mithian. I appreciate it but…." Elena, despite being a warrior, betrayed some emotion on her face. She held the goblet out. "Thank you once again."
"My pleasure." He filled her goblet. "I have a request from King Rodor and Princess Mithian for you as well, Your Highness. They'd appreciate it if you'd take the empty seat by them."
"Will King Arthur mind? I know he had the arrangements made," Elena doubted.
"He and Queen Guinevere would want you to feel valued." Merlin looked around. "There should have been someone assigned to you. What is this?"
"She's a lowly Amazon bitch. And who are you to question your master, BOY?" Meleagant snapped from two places down. He slammed his goblet on the table hard. "FILL IT NOW!"
Merlin nodded. As much as the Red Knight repulsed him, he'd learned years before how to deal with such people. He understood the Greater Good. Diplomacy demanded such things. He filled the goblet.
"At least you know your place in that regard, you Insolent Bug!" The hulking Cawdorian leered at Mithian. "I'll take that seat. I'll get the fossil to give her to me. That wench would warm my bed well enough. Least I'll keep a gag on her. She can't shut up."
Merlin's eyes narrowed. Anger blazed through his heart. She isn't a piece of meat. How can he talk like that! He exhaled sharply.
Meleagant waited until Merlin started past him. Then he jutted his chair out suddenly hitting Merlin without warning.
Merlin hit the wall. The wine spilled all over himself. He rubbed his side.
Mithian tensed. She started to get up but Rodor grabbed her arm. He shook his head at her.
What? Why? She sat back down. Her eyes glared into the Red Knight's.
"Know your place, BOY! Don't you look at me!" Meleagant spat. He glared at the sprawled out servant and scoffed.
"Know yours, Ingrate!" Elena retorted. She stood and helped Merlin up. "Are you all right, Merlin?"
"I'm fine. These robes are stained but I'll manage," Merlin replied. "Perhaps you might want to follow me, Queen Elena?"
"That seat's mine!" Meleagant insisted. He stood. His hand rested on his sword's scabbard.
By now, the music had stopped. The other guests had ceased their conversations. They turned toward the brewing confrontation.
Arthur stood from where he sat at the high table. His eyes blazed blue fire. "Meleagant, don't even consider drawing a weapon at this table."
"Perhaps you might want to tell these servants about their place, Arthur. Your father would never tolerate that behavior!" Melagant retorted. Insolence and Intolerance dripped from his tone.
Arthur stood firm. He exhaled to calm himself. "He wouldn't allow you to make such a scene either, Meleagant. Do not presume to insult anyone here."
Meleagant curled his lip. "If you had a real Queen, I might listen! I see a beggar boy among your knights! He's little better…."
Gawain stiffened in his place. Steam erupted from his ears. His eyes narrowed. His mouth curled up like it had eaten a prune.
Arthur shook his head at his knight. "Apologize to Queen Guinevere now! As for my knights, if you care to cross swords with any of them, they'd make you smart for it."
"Not likely. Like the one whose father ran in battle? And you made him a knight? You're a fraud!" Meleagant drew his sword.
Anger blinded Gawain. He forgot where he was. He jumped out of his seat. "HE DIDN'T RUN! YOUR UNCLE DID! MY MOTHER'S DEAD BECAUSE OF THAT PIECE OF CRAP!"
All of the eyes turned toward the usually irreverent knight. As if they'd just heard the latest juicy gossip in the churchyard, every ear in the chamber perked up.
"Gawain, stand down!" Arthur ordered.
"Tell Red Boy to do that first!" Gawain fired back. His eyes met Meleagant's. "This is about Samhain and family. Right? WELL MY FATHER HAD HIS GRANDFATHER'S BACK! HE DIED PROTECTING HIS KING! BUT NOOO…..UNCLE AETHELWALD LIED! HE HAD MOM AND ME BOOTED OFF THE ESTATE! HE GOT THE THRONE. HE STOLE IT! YOU, RED, STOLE IT!"
"You create such fiction! Perhaps you should be the Bard. That's all you're good for, Beggar Boy," Meleagant scoffed. "You will face me then!"
"Meleagant! Gawain! ENOUGH!" Arthur spat.
"Tell him that!" Gawain complained. "This is supposed to be about remembering dead ancestors. Right? Well my parents are dead! I survived and learned to fight! ALL RIGHT?" He shook his head. "And if you want to face me, FINE!"
Leon grabbed Gawain. "You heard Arthur. Gawain, stand down. We…."
"WHATEVER!" Gawain shook Leon off. "Your Grandpa was a great King, Red. What in bloody blazes happened? You beat up on the servants? What a man!" Then he stalked toward the door. "Someday, Your Queasiness, we will meet. Pity you!" With that, he stalked out of the room not bowing to anyone in the process. Frankly he didn't care. Pain seared at him. Memoria reminded him of his mother's suffering.
"Arthur, you WILL apologize! I will have his head!" Meleagant demanded.
"Meleagant, stop!" Percival jumped in. "We are guests here! King Arthur should be shown respect!"
"Careful, Percival. I could declare war on Mercia if I so choose! I may even get a few more women for my brothel in the process! Perhaps the Maid would like to speak to that?" Meleagant threatened.
"Meleagant! ENOUGH!" Arthur brought his fist down on the table in front of him. Everything on its surface shook and threatened to spill in its wake. His face flushed bright red. "This night is supposed to be about honoring the dead! Instead old wounds are open. I won't have that! Percival is right. We should respect each other."
"Says the one who's here because of his father's crusade against the Old Religion," Meleagant groused. "I only spoke the truth about your pretty boy. Seems he can't take it."
"Some of us who have been denied our proper places understand such things," Morgana cut in. "I've come to realize that rattling the saber can cut the wielder as well as a potential victim. Do take care." Menace glinted in her dark eyes.
Meleagant sniffed. "Says the uppity bitch who couldn't hold onto that throne there. Rumor has it that you've lost your magic as well. So you're a pathetic shadow of what you once were."
Morgana ground her teeth. Much as Arthur had observed previously, Meleagant's words and Pride's old scars seared her. Still, despite the losses and setbacks, she was a survivor.
"So it seems something does trouble you? Perhaps you're cast off? Your own brother takes your place and you can't take it!" Meleagant baited.
"The goddess reached an arrangement. Arthur can have his throne. I have mine." Annoyance burned brighter in her eyes. Fun was fun but the lumbering buffoon's barbs gashed too closely to the bone by now. "I have two fathers, Meleagant. Besides having to endure Uther's raping of my mother, Gorlois left a legacy for me. I can thank him for that. As long as Tolerance rules in the lands around Tintagel, I am content for there to be peace." She raised her goblet. "If I may, Arthur, propose a toast to set this feast back on course?"
Arthur rolled his eyes. Irony slapped him in the head. Yet Opportunity offered a personal coup of sorts especially given some of his own diplomatic faux-pas recently. "Please, Morgana. The floor is yours."
"Thank you." She raised her goblet a little higher. "We all have our traditions and memories. As we come together, we recall how our ancestors met. Sometimes they worked together. Sometimes they clashed. Benefits and pain both emerged from those contacts. The seeds for our current state were laid within them. Tonight we are here to honor those ancestors, to celebrate in their achievements and to learn from their mistakes. We remember and mourn those who fell in the Great Purge. We should forgive or perhaps try to move in that direction. I am here for such a purpose. Perhaps we all should be? To our ancestors, their achievements, our past deeds and the future then."
Silence muffled the entire chamber. People stared at Morgana given her previous actions. Disbelief stifled any thinking either way for several heartbeats.
Elena raised a goblet. "Hear! Hear!"
"As say I!" Percival added.
"And Nemeth as well!" Rodor chimed in with his goblet raised as well.
"HUZZAH! HUZZAH!" the combined voice cheered; echoing off of the chamber's walls and into the rest of the castle proper.
Gwen nodded toward her sister-in-law. Despite recent injuries and worse, she glimpsed her former mistress' manner and tone in Tintagel's current Queen. She tipped her own goblet toward the other woman. Her eyes turned to Arthur.
"As say we all. Thank you, Morgana, for a most worthy toast on this night." Arthur raised his own goblet. "I would add my own desire to remember and try to live together. TO THAT!"
"HEAR! HEAR!" Just about everyone chimed in and guzzled from the goblet. In such ways, they sought to wash away Discontent's vile taste and set Harmony back on its natural course.
Arthur allowed a few heartbeats to let the feelings calm a bit. Then he banged a fork against the side of his goblet. "Morgana's sentiments lead in to something else. King Rodor?"
Rodor exchanged glances with Mithian. His eyes also briefly met with Merlin's. Then he announced, "Thank you, King Arthur. I wish to add to the sentiments expressed here. Recently we discovered that one of our servants has a hidden talent. He is a poet and scribe. One never knows what one will find mucking out the stables. Now do they?" He let his eyes meet Arthur's so as to send his message. Then he pressed on. "We at Whitgate have enjoyed a few of his recent creations. Tonight I give you Peter, our court's bard!" He looked to Peter and nodded.
Peter rose hesitantly. Anxiety beat against his stomach's sides. He ground his teeth. "Thank you, Sire. Good Lords and Ladies, thank you too. I will do my best."
"Just relax," Gwen coaxed allowing the anxious scribe a smile.
"Thank you. Here goes…..
Remembrances
Peter of Marlsborough
Gathered we are
In august hall
Dive we into Memoria's jar
Recall we heroes tall
Emotions tense
Perspective differs
Give out praise or recompense
From barbs in Judgment's quivers
Discord we've had
But Virtue we have too
Good as well as Bad
Mood Upbeat or Blue
Life's journey has care
Obstacles us slow
To go astray they us dare
To go against the flow
Still our forbearers
Their ways they made
Staving off the terrors
Lurking in Light or Shade
List I can
Deeds of Great Renown
As read I from scribes' hand
Of harvest from past sown
Differ we may
On those figures past
For Insight we pray
And Legacy to last
Collaboration is key
Share old love
Friendships give relief
Like hand to glove
Pain and Anger
Burn at us they do
Mindful of danger
And decisions past rued
Ill Feelings and grudges
Fester they can
Not easily away budged
Fixing course of our land
Celebrate we do
Learn we must
Forge alliances new
Alongside valued trust…"
Peter bowed his head. He peered around the chamber. Anxiety ate at him. He trembled ever so slightly. Especially given Hate's burning in that place, he remained unsure. He cleared his throat. "King Arthur, Queen Guinevere, Sire, thank you."
Arthur nodded. He measured the poet's words. A nod came from his head in tacit reply.
Gwen stood. Her eyes sparkled. A big grin spread across her face. "King Rodor, you were right! Peter, you are a man of many skills. When I needed a friend, you greeted me in the stable. You've been warm and kind. That is truly a valuable gift indeed. Thank you."
"Y…you're welcome, Your Highness. I'm glad you like it," Peter expressed.
"Well it's weak and naïve," Meleagant complained. He slurped down the rest of his wine. "Enough!" He got up. "I'll go and find Beggar Boy."
Arthur got up and stepped down from the high table. He'd had enough of the Red King's attitude frankly. "Try it and find yourself locked in your chamber, Meleagant."
"You and who's group of knights, Pendragon? Yours?" Meleagant scoffed.
"You'd be surprised by our numbers. You are one. We are many. As Peter bade, we are allied," Percival declared.
"And there would be more from Gaul. My father still remembers the last time, King Meleagant," Bors shot in.
"I beat your father like a drum, Boy! I'd like nothing better than to send you back in a bag of ash!" Meleagant discounted. "Any of you! All of you!"
"Try, you Pig," Elena dared. Even if he towered over her by a head and a half, the Amazon Queen stood her ground. "Queen Radigund's blood is on your hands. When is enough enough, Butcher? How much blood has to be spilled?"
"As much as I thirst for." Meleagant sniggered. "Rodor, you know I want."
"Princess Mithian is committed. There will be no further negotiations for her hand," Rodor declined. "Be careful. As Queen Morgana herself advised you, the blade can cut you as well as someone else. Listen well to my poet. His advice offers a great deal."
"One day, I'll throw that 'advice' back in your faces. Just wait." Meleagant spat on the chamber floor. Then he stalked out.
Arthur frowned. "Leon, find Gawain. I don't want him alone. Meleagant and he both want blood."
"Aye, Sire." Leon bowed. Then he signaled for the other knights to follow him out of the door.
Mithian rose. While her father had not announced Merlin's identity for all to know, he'd made her status clear for all. She felt exposed…almost naked really. For the first time, she understood how Merlin felt in that regard. She cleared her throat. "I'd like to retire for the evening, Sire."
Rodor nodded. "Yes. It has been a most eventful time indeed. Pity. Still we have had some wonderful sentiments." He walked over to Elena. "I will expect you in our chambers tomorrow? I believe we have an alliance to forge."
"We do indeed," Elena concurred. She shook his hand. "I will be there as soon as I finish with King Percival and Queen Blancheflor."
"That suits us well. My thanks to you and the Amazons," Rodor accepted adding a nod to respect her. "Merlin, perhaps we might need our chambers refreshed before we sleep?"
"Right away, Your Highness," Merlin agreed. He bowed to Arthur and Gwen. Then he scurried out ahead of the Nemeth party.
Seemed it had been quite an eventful evening indeed. Eventful on many fronts…..