Summary
Charged with the search for traitors possibly connected to the king's abduction, Sir Galahad questions the royal servants.
Chapter 65 What Memory Holds
After spending yesterday questioning the castle staff, soldiers and guards, and other potential suspects, Galahad faced one of his most delicate tasks – interviewing the royal servants George and Sefa at Queen Guinevere's command. Investigating those who served the crown most intimately troubled him deeply, yet Galahad knew that no one, not even the most devoted servant, could escape scrutiny.
Their innocence would then cast shadows on the king's inner circle – perhaps even reaching the throne itself. Sir Elyan's betrayal had already revealed fissures among them; another traitor might shatter what remained of their fellowship. Galahad's fingers curled tighter around his list of questions at the thought. Such devastation befalling the grieving queen and her faithful knights could jeopardize the kingdom's stability.
Queen Guinevere presided from the short dais, a faint golden aura surrounding her. The gem in her gold-braided circlet caught the morning light like a star at dawn as she sat straight-backed, her hands folded in her lap. Galahad stood alone beside her, the minimal audience designed to put the servants at ease during questioning.
The lesser hall's wooden doors groaned on ancient hinges as George entered, each step precise as a clockmaker's pendulum. His bow flowed with practiced perfection, his immaculate attire befitting the refined standards of the royal household. No magical aura surrounded the manservant, though his bearing radiated the quiet pride of one who had mastered his calling.
Galahad descended the dais and took his position where he could observe both queen and servant. His hand settled on his sword hilt as the other lifted the list of questions. "Do you understand why you're here?"
George met his gaze. "Of course, Sir Galahad," he responded, each word flowing with assurance. "I'm here to aid in any way possible the investigation into our beloved monarch's disappearance." Pride suffused his certainty, resonating with absolute belief.
"Well put," Galahad replied with a nod, the rustling of his cloak and crinkle of his notes filling the momentary silence. "How long have you been in the service of the king, Master George?"
"One month, two days, and fourteen hours, my lord," he answered with such swift precision that Galahad couldn't stop his eyebrow from lifting. Such exactitude reminded him of his childhood tutors – though they'd have envied George's ability to count days without consulting the almanac. He'd likely be able to state the exact hour he presented his credentials to the king.
Galahad asked, "Do you like working for King Arthur?"
"It's the highest honor to serve his majesty, the king. I could not have wished for more."
"I understand you did not accompany the king and queen to Entwash River. Where were you during their absence?"
"In the castle mostly," George replied. "A few errands outside of the citadel. To be effective, my goal is to accomplish my daily tasks quickly, efficiently."
Galahad studied the manservant, intrigued by the refinement in his speech, the delivery of his responses. Camelot seemed to collect educated commoners like precious manuscripts – many revealing unexpected depths of knowledge. The thought would surely scandalize the nobility at Clarwick, where they prided themselves on their superior education.
"Sir Galahad?" Queen Guinevere's voice pulled him from his musings. Her raised brows and questioning eyes reminded him of his duty. "Your delay?"
"Apologies, my queen. A minor distraction." Heat rose beneath his collar as he acknowledged his lapse – noble-born and knighted being called to task by his sovereign. Clearing his throat, the sound harsh in the stillness of the room, he consulted his list. "Can anyone corroborate your whereabouts?"
"Many, my lord," he answered smoothly.
"Names, Master George. Please provide them." Galahad's words were firm, his gaze unwavering.
"Cook and the scullery maids first thing. The armory officer – Arthur's spear and dagger needed attention. The tailor in town. Sefa as well…" George recited his encounters throughout the morning, the soft rustle of his sleeves filling the momentary pauses. Galahad found himself comparing how the servant's detailed accounting surpassed the vague responses of previous interviewees. Where others recalled glimpses of their movements, George offered a detailed chronicle.
Galahad glanced at the queen, a faint smile touching her lips, before returning his attention to the servant. "Thank you, George," he interrupted, lifting a hand, the scrape of his boots against stone punctuating his slight adjustment in stance. "Perhaps you could prepare a written list for me later?" The request carried a polite but unmistakable command.
"Yes, my lord."
"As King Arthur's personal servant, you had knowledge of his travel plans. When did you learn of them?"
"Seven days ago, my lord. After Sir Elyan…" George's composure wavered for the first time as he glanced at Queen Guinevere before lowering his gaze.
"A blow to us all," Galahad said gently. He too had learned of Sir Elyan's severance from vow and duty about then – the memory still fresh as an unhealed wound. "Did you share details of the royal couple's planned respite with anyone else?"
"No, my lord. I hold the king's privacy in utmost regard. I would never share details of any conversation or any private matters of the king or queen." George's stance remained resolute, the truth ringing in every word.
"Not even with your family?"
"Especially not my family, my lord," George replied, looking almost scandalized. "It would be as if shouting to the whole of Camelot."
Galahad chuckled, easing the tension as he caught the queen's amused glance, the gems in her crown circlet lending warmth to her features. "I understand," he replied to George.
"Besides," George added, "it would violate the trust I hope to build with the king." His words held both hope and the quiet acknowledgment of doors still closed to him.
Galahad turned to the queen, he too having noticed George and Sefa's conspicuous absence from most inner circle meetings. She met his eyes, confirming his assessment before turning back to George. They had not yet fully trusted the servants with their confidence, though his time in the king's service had taught him the necessity of such caution, especially now when each revelation could reshape Camelot's future.
"Besides you and Sefa," Galahad continued, "who else had foreknowledge of the respite details?"
"Sir Merlin, and the queen, of course." George considered each name thoughtfully. "Sir Percival perhaps – given his responsibility for security. Beyond that, I know of no others, my lord."
"The king moves about the citadel and grounds, interacts with many people throughout the day, in the towns. When accompanying him, did you notice any unusual activity in the days or weeks leading up to King Arthur's abduction? Any strangers around the citadel or lower town in recent days that appeared out of place?"
"Strangers are common, my lord. But since the coronation festivities ended, nothing stood out as unusual. I should have watched more carefully." George's posture yielded to remorse, his shoulders bending slightly.
"It's all right, Master George. All of us share in that burden." George's small smile acknowledged Galahad's words, a sense of responsibility settling between them.
"Have you heard any rumors or chatter related to plots against the king or queen?" Galahad maintained an even tone despite the question's significance.
"None, my lord. Such treasonous whispers would not pass my lips unopposed." George's declaration carried the sharp edge of fierce loyalty.
"I hold the same conviction," Galahad nodded. Here stood a man whose service embraced a deeper purpose – the protection of those he served. "Can you think of anyone who might have revealed the royal couple's travel plans?"
After a moment's thought, George shook his head. "I'm afraid I do not, my lord."
"Very well." Galahad turned to Queen Guinevere. "Your highness, have you any questions?"
"Nothing regarding the investigation," she replied, her eyes meeting his with subtle understanding. "Your questions were quite thorough, Sir Galahad. Though I would ask after your family, George. How fares your mother? I recall she was unwell last month."
George's expression softened. "Much improved, your highness. The physician's remedies have helped greatly."
"I'm glad to hear it. And Goodwife Rebecca?"
George's face brightened, the formality of his bearing giving way to quiet joy. "She fares well, your highness. We shall be adding to our numbers very soon."
Queen Guinevere's smile remained gentle. Her hand drifted to her stomach where magic illuminated the sovereign heir, her gesture holding both promise and grief – a new life growing while its father remained beyond reach. Galahad looked away, focusing instead on her seemingly casual inquiry that served the dual purpose of kindness and assessment.
Such questions about family and private matters had been discussed earlier – any inconsistencies might reveal magical interference if they contradicted what was known about a person's life.
"Thank you, George," she said, her voice tender. "Your service is much appreciated. You may go."
When the doors sealed behind the manservant's departing footsteps, Galahad considered the authenticity of his answers. "He's a good man," he observed. "His responses seem genuine, undistorted by outside influence."
"As you've said—sometimes the truest test lies in the smallest details of one's life." Queen Guinevere straightened in her chair, raising her chin. "I'm sure we'll find Sefa equally forthright."
The queen stood, stretching her neck before stepping behind the throne chairs to pour water. As she drank, Galahad considered his role in this crisis. While his fellow knights scoured the countryside for their king, his duty lay in uncovering the treachery that might have enabled King Arthur's capture. The task suited his particular talents—the same patience that allowed him to guide others in magical matters now served him in these meticulous investigations.
His thoughts drifted to Lady Yaminah, someone in desperate need of such tutelage. Her awakening magic reminded him of his own first encounters with his powers, balancing squire duties with new and terrifying magical abilities. Though delicacy would be required when faith and power intertwined, her training must begin once she recovers. Nearly a full day later, the woman still lay in Merlin's chambers drifting in and out of consciousness.
Life in Camelot had taught him to value different paths of service. Through these investigations, he served the crown in ways equally vital as those searching the forests and hills. Each question asked, each response analyzed, brought them closer to understanding how their defenses had failed—and perhaps closer to finding their king.
King Arthur's castle thrummed in ways his noble upbringing hadn't prepared him for—where else might one find servants who spoke like scholars and queens who commanded with the same poise they once showed as servants? Such energy charged the very air around him, as potent as any magic. Though the constant ache of missing his loved ones remained ever-present, he'd found unexpected solace in this kingdom where ancient ways and new magic flourished together.
The doors parted and Sefa entered with hesitant steps, the soft scuff of her shoes barely disturbing the chamber's silence. Through the closing doors, Galahad caught a glimpse of the redheaded woman he'd noticed during the queen's abduction report two days past. Though she'd remained in the shadows then, her presence had caught his attention.
The queen resumed her position as Sefa curtsied, loose curls hiding her downturned face. A faint pink aura surrounded her, barely a breath of magic, yet unmistakably present. "My queen," she murmured, her voice matching her delicate presence, her trembling hands wringing the sides of her skirt.
"Mistress Sefa," Galahad began, but the queen raised her hand.
"It's all right, Sefa," Queen Guinevere said in the same soothing tone she used to calm anxious petitioners. "We only have a few questions. Do you understand why you're here?"
Sefa lifted her gaze, uncertainty flickering across her features. "Yes, my queen," she whispered.
Queen Guinevere nodded to him to begin his questioning. Unlike George's articulate understanding laid out with clear declarations, this shy and timorous woman preferred brevity instead, her words as fragile as spun glass. Galahad found himself wondering how the castle's two royal servants seemed to embody opposite approaches to their duties – George's exactness in contrast to Sefa's simpleness.
Through each response however, Sefa's quiet certainty matched George's formal assurance. Their answers aligned naturally, each showing loyalty to the crown in their own manner. He turned and offered the queen an opportunity for questions, his hand outstretched in deference.
"I know this scrutiny cannot be easy, Sefa," the queen said softly. "Your service these past weeks has been invaluable and is much appreciated. I know I've had little time to catch up with you, given all that's been going on." The queen smiled, her gentle tone masking strategy. "Your father is doing well as one of our physicians. His magic and Master Leonard's conventional methods seem to complement each other. You must be very proud of him."
"Thank you, my lady." Sefa's shoulders relaxed slightly at the mention of her father, the pink aura surrounding her remaining faint but steady. "He speaks often of their work together, how they've developed a system for treating patients, though he says the master healer gives him strange looks whenever magic is used. Still, I think they've grown fond of each other."
The queen's smile deepened with genuine warmth. "That's wonderful to hear. And speaking of pleasant matters, how is your young man?"
Sefa blinked, a small smile touching her lips as color rose in her cheeks as she shook her head. "Young man? I don't have a young man, your majesty."
Queen Guinevere straightened, tension threading through her jawline while Galahad's mind raced toward an unfolding revelation. "Sefa, you told me about Derrick Andronicus of Eofham over a week ago. You spoke of him quite fondly and at length. I remember this clearly."
The girl's brow creased in confusion. "I don't know what you mean, my lady. Who's Derrick Andronicus?"
The queen's sharp glance met Galahad's, her lips pressed into a thin line, his next move already calculated. "I think we need that seer now, your majesty," he said.
See Between the Sorrows and the Passions Chapter 19 Songs Only Two Can Hear if you missed Gwen and Sefa's conversation about Derrick.