Merlin was standing at the fence by the lists when Anna walked up, scrubbing at her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Did you get it to him?" Merlin asked urgently.

"Yeah." Anna gave one last wipe at her mouth. "And I even managed to put it on him, so he wouldn't notice the size of the coin."

"Great."

"What did you do with the medallion?"

"Threw it in the armorer's forge."

"WHAT? Why?!" Anna looked scandalized. "Don't you realize you could have sewn that thing into Arthur's underwear and never worried about a tournament again?"

"It's black magic, Anna. I can't use it."

"Protection spells are black magic?" She looked completely unconvinced.

"Anna," Merlin said patiently, "if someone tried to cut Bertilak's head off while he was wearing that medallion, what do you suppose would happen?"

"I don't know—his sword would bounce off, I guess."

Merlin shook his head. "Bertilak's head would come right off—and then Bertilak would pick it up and put it back on again." Anna looked horrified. "It's not a protection spell—it's cheating death. And that takes powerful magic—black magic. I hate to even imagine what Morgana must have gone through to make that medallion."

Anna frowned. "If she took all that trouble to make something so powerful," she said slowly, "why wouldn't she keep it for herself?"

"She seems to think she's untouchable," Merlin shrugged.

"No—I mean, why wouldn't she just put it on and walk into Camelot herself—just blast away anyone who tried to stop her, walk up, and stab Arthur? Why use a go-between?"

Merlin frowned. "That's a very good question."

Their conversation was interrupted by the herald announcing the afternoon's program. The winners from the morning's bouts lined up in front of the stands and those knights who wished to challenge them walked up and tapped their shields with the point of their swords. Quite a number of bouts ensued. Almost everyone seemed to be taking advantage of the opportunity to fight one of the two Kings—after all, it was not everyone who could say that they had fought hand-to-hand with a king. Yet Bertilak made no move.

Finally, just after Arthur had fought two bouts in a row, Bertilak stepped forward. But instead of speaking to the herald to announce his challenge, he walked straight up to Arthur and threw his green leather glove on the ground at Arthur's feet, at the same time announcing in a loud voice, "Arthur Pendragon, I hereby challenge you to a fight to the death."

There was an immediate outcry, both in the stands and on the field. "Sir Bertilak, we are met here under a banner of peace," the herald remonstrated. "There is no place in this tournament for a fight to the death."

Arthur added his own voice. "I have no quarrel with you, Sir Bertilak. I have welcomed you to Camelot and offered you hospitality. What is your reason for this challenge?"

"My reason is my own," Bertilak answered imperturbably. "You will give me satisfaction, or I will subscribe you a coward."

"Even by the rules of honorable dueling, such a challenge cannot be made without some motive—" the herald began, when Gwaine strode suddenly forward and picked up the glove.

"I will act as champion for my King," he announced, his eyes blazing.

"The tournament is no venue for such a fight—" the herald tried again, more angrily this time.

Gwaine turned to Arthur and the herald. "The tournament allows for personal challenges. I challenge Sir Bertilak to single combat. But as Sir Bertilak has announced an intention to do my King mortal harm, I will not hold back."

After a long pause, Arthur nodded. "Let them fight, if they're both so determined," he said to the herald in a tone of resignation. "If either of you should be killed in this fight," he added to the combatants, "your death will be on your own head, since you insisted on this."

"And after I have killed you," Bertilak said to Gwaine, "my challenge to Arthur still stands."

"Let's see if you bleed green," was all Gwaine replied as he pulled on his helmet.

The two knights were well-matched and had not fought one another yet, so they spent the first couple of minutes feeling one another out. The entire stadium was on tenterhooks. They roared as Gwaine made the first full attack. Bertilak parried, and the fight was joined in earnest.

As many times as Gwaine swung his sword, Bertilak caught it on the iron-bound haft of his axe, and as many times as Bertilak swung the head of his axe, Gwaine side-stepped it. The crowd shouted with either fear or acclaim with every swing, but Anna doubted either of the knights heard it. They were concentrating entirely on one another. Neither had gotten in a full hit yet, and at the rate they were moving, they would both soon tire out.

But Bertilak had one disadvantage: he believed himself to be invulnerable. When he began to grow tired, he was less desperate to parry Gwaine's attacks. At last, he moved a little bit too slowly, and Gwaine struck him in the shoulder, the blade cutting down between the pauldron and the gorget. Bertilak fell back in shock at the unexpected pain, momentarily distracted.

Gwaine pressed his advantage and swung again, knocking Bertilak's axe out of the way and striking him several times. His swings seemed furious, almost wild, and when Bertilak managed to parry again, he easily caught Gwaine's sword between the head and haft of his axe, pulling it out of Gwaine's hands and throwing it through the air.

The crowd gasped, but it seemed Gwaine had wanted it to happen: in the moment that Bertilak paused after disarming his opponent, Gwaine grabbed the axe, moving with Bertilak's own follow-through. He smoothly rolled the axe right out of Bertilak's grasp, knocking him down with the haft in one quick movement. Bertilak hit the ground hard, momentarily winded, and Gwaine threw one foot down on his opponent's chest, swinging the axe downward, straight at Bertilak's throat.

TBC


AN: Please review!