Legacy: Arthurian Saga (223 page)

Gawain came back, briefly, soon after
the court returned to Camelot, while Agravain and Gaheris were
still in the north. He had a long interview with Arthur, and after
it another with Mordred, who told him what he had seen of Lamorak's
murder and its aftermath, and finished by urging Gawain to listen
to the King's pleas and show the same restraint as Drustan, and to
refrain from adding another stone to the bloody cairn of
revenge.

"Lamorak leaves a young brother,
Drian, who rides with Drustan's men. By the kind of logic that you
use, he has the right now to kill either of your brothers, or you
yourself. Even Gareth," said Mordred, "though I doubt if that is
likely. Drustan will have seen to it that Drian knows what
happened, and that -- the Goddess be thanked! -- Gareth kept his
head and acted like a sensible man. He could see -- as indeed any
man could who was there -- that Gaheris was crazed in his wits. If
we make much of that circumstance, it is possible that when he
comes back healed, no one will attempt to strike at him." He added,
meaningly: "I believe that neither of the twins will ever be
trusted again by the King, but if you can bring yourself to forgive
Gaheris for our mother's murder, or at any rate not to take action
against him, then you may, with Gareth and myself, stay within the
edges of the King's favor. There may yet be a noble future for you
and for me. Do you ever want to rule your northern kingdom,
Gawain?"

Mordred knew his man. Gawain was
anxious that nothing should interfere with his title to the
Orkneys, or eventually to the kingdom of Lothian. Neither title
would be worth anything without Arthur's continued support. So the
matter was settled, but when the time came for the twins' return,
the King saw to it that their elder brother was away from Camelot.
Queen Morgan, at Castell Aur in Wales, provided him with just the
excuse he needed. Gawain was dispatched there, ostensibly to
investigate complaints from the peasants about abuses of authority
by Morgan's guardians, and carefully kept there out of the way
until the dust on the Lamorak murder should settle.

It was apparent, though, to Mordred,
that Bedwyr's doubts about him were not quite resolved. In place of
the guarded friendliness that Arthur's chief marshal had lately
shown, Mordred was to observe a return to the wary watchfulness
that Bedwyr also accorded Agravain and certain other of the Young
Celts.

The phrase "Young Celts," used lightly
enough at first to denote the young outlanders who tended to stick
together, had by this time taken on the ring of a sobriquet, a
title as clearly defined as that of the High King's companion
knights. And here and there the two lines crossed; Agravain was in
both, and Gaheris, and so, eventually, was Mordred. Arthur, as
Mordred had anticipated, sent for him and asked him, once his
half-brothers were back at court, to keep watch on them, and on the
others of the Young Celts' party. A little to Mordred's surprise he
found that, though there was still discontent with some of Arthur's
home policies, there was no talk that could be called seditious.
Loyalty to Arthur's name and fame still held them; he was duke of
battles still, and enough of glory and authority hung about him to
keep them loyal. His talk of wars to come, moreover, bound them to
him. But there was enmity for Bedwyr. The men from Orkney who had
come south to join Lot's sons in Arthur's train, and others from
Lothian who hoped for Gawain's succession there (and who had some
small grievances, real or imagined, against the Northumbrian lord
of Benoic), knew that Bedwyr distrusted them, and that he had done
his best to block the return of Agravain and Gaheris to court; had
advocated, rather, their banishment back to their island home. So
when, as was inevitable among the young men, the talk turned to the
gossip about Bedwyr and the Queen, Mordred soon realized that this
was prompted mainly by hatred of Bedwyr, and the desire to shut him
out of the King's favor. When Mordred, moving carefully, let it be
known that he might be persuaded to take their part, the Young
Celts assumed his motive to be the natural jealousy of a King's son
who might, if Bedwyr could be discredited, become his father's
deputy. As such, Mordred would be a notable acquisition to the
party.

So he was accepted, and in time
regarded as one of the party's leaders, even by Agravain and
Gaheris.

Mordred had his own rooms within the
royal palace at Camelot, but he had also, for the last year or so,
owned a pleasant little house in the town. A girl of the town kept
house for him, and made him welcome whenever he could spare the
time for her. Here, from time to time, came the Young Celts,
ostensibly to supper, or for a day's fowling in the marshes, but in
reality to talk, and for Mordred to listen.

The purchase of the house had in fact
been the King's suggestion. If Mordred was to share the party's
activities, this was not likely to happen in his rooms within the
royal palace. In the easier atmosphere of his leman's house Mordred
could more readily keep in touch with the currents of thought that
moved the younger men.

To his house one evening came
Agravain, with Colles, and Mador, and others of the Young Celts.
After supper, when the woman had placed the wine near them and then
withdrawn, Agravain brought the talk abruptly round to the subject
that, of late, had obsessed him.

"Bedwyr! No man in the kingdom can get
anywhere, become anybody, without that man's approval! The King's
besotted. Boyhood friends, indeed! Boyhood lovers, more like! And
still he has to listen whenever my lord high and mighty Bedwyr
chooses to speak! What d'ye say, Colles? We know, eh?
Eh?"

Agravain, as was usual these days, was
three parts drunken, early as it was in the night. This was plain
speaking, even for him. Colles, usually a hopeful sycophant, tried
an uneasy withdrawal. "Well, but everyone knows they fought
together since years back. Brothers-in-arms, and all that. It's
only natural--"

"Too natural by half." Agravain gave a
hiccup of laughter. "Brothers-in-arms, how right you are! In the
Queen's arms, too...

Haven't you heard the latest? Last
time the King was from court, there was my lord Bedwyr, snugged
down right and tight in the Queen's bed before Arthur's horse was
well out of the King's Gate."

"Where did you get that?" This,
sharply, from Mador.

And from Colles, beginning to look
scared: "You told me. But it's only talk, and it can't be true. For
one thing the King's not that kind of a fool, and if he trusts
Bedwyr--and trusts her, come to that--"

"Not a fool? It's a fool's part to
trust. Mordred would agree. Wouldn't you, brother?"

Mordred, with his back to the company,
pouring wine, was heard to assent, shortly.

"If it were true," began someone,
longingly, but Mador cut across him.

"You're a fool yourself to talk like
that without proof. It can't be true. Even if they wanted to, how
would they dare? The Queen's ladies are always there with her, and
even at night--"

Agravain gave a shout of laughter, and
Gaheris, lounging back beside him, said, grinning: "My poor
innocent. You're beginning to sound like my saintly brother Gareth.
Don't you ever listen to the dirt? Agravain's been laying one of
Guinevere's maids for nigh on a month now. If anyone hears the
gossip, he should."

"And you mean that she says he's been
in there at night? Bedwyr?" Agravain nodded into his wine, and
Gaheris gave a crow of triumph. "Then we've got him!"

But Colles insisted: "She saw him?
Herself?"

"No." Agravain looked round defiantly.
"But we all know the talk that's been going round for long enough,
and we also know that there's no fire without smoke. Let us look
past the smoke, and put out the fire. If I do get proof, will you
all act with me?"

"Act? How?"

"Do the King a service, and get rid of
Bedwyr, from the King's bed and the King's counsels!"

Calum said doubtfully: "You mean just
tell the King?"

"How else? He'll be furious, who
wouldn't, but afterwards he's got to be grateful. Any man would
want to know--"

"But the Queen?" This was a young man
called Cian, who came from the Queen's own country of North Wales.
"He'll kill her. Any man, finding out..." He flushed, and fell
silent. It was to be noticed that he avoided looking at
Gaheris.

Agravain was confident and scornful.
"He would never hurt the Queen. Have you never heard what happened
when Melwas of the Summer Country took her and held her for a day
and a night in his lodge on one of the Lake islands? You can't tell
me that that lecher never had his way with her, but the King took
her back without a word, and gave her his promise that, for that or
even for her barrenness, he would never put her aside. No, he'd
never harm her. Mordred, you know him better than most, and you're
with the Queen half your time as well. What do you say?"

"About the King's tenderness towards
her, I agree." Mordred set the wine jug down again, and leaned back
against the table's edge, surveying them. "But all this is
moonshine, surely? There is talk, I've heard it, but it seems to me
that it comes mostly from here, and without proof. Without any kind
of proof. Until proof is found, the talk must remain only talk,
concocted from wishes and ambitions, not from facts."

"He's right, you know," said one
Melion, who was Cian's brother. "It is only talk, the sort that
always happens when a lady is as lovely as the Queen, and her man's
away from her bed as often and for as long as the King has to
be."

"It's bedroom door gossip," Cian put
in. "Do you ask us to kneel down in the dirt and peer through
chamber keyholes?"

Since this was in fact exactly what
Agravain had been doing, he denied it with great indignation. He
was not too drunk to ignore the hardening of the meeting against
any idea of harming the Queen. He said virtuously: "You've got me
wrong, gentlemen. Nothing would persuade me to injure that lovely
lady. But if we could contrive a way to bring Bedwyr down without
hurt to her--"

"You mean swear that he forced his way
in? Raped her?"

"Why not? It might be possible. My
wench would say anything we paid her for, and--"

"What about Gareth's?" asked someone.
It was known that Gareth was courting Linet, one of the Queen's
ladies, a gentle girl and as incorruptible as Gareth
himself.

"All right, all right!" Agravain, a
dark flush in his face, swung round to Mordred. "There's plenty to
be thought about, but by the dark Goddess herself, we've made a
start, and we know who's with us and who isn't! Mordred, what about
it? If we can think of some way that doesn't implicate the Queen,
then you're with us? You, of all men, can hardly stand Bedwyr's
friend."

"I?" Mordred gave that cool little
smile that was all that remained in him of Morgause. "Friend to
Bedwyr, chief marshal, best of the knights, the King's right hand
in battle and the council chamber? Regent in Arthur's absence, with
all Arthur's power?" He paused. "Bring Bedwyr down? What should I
say, gentlemen? That I reject the notion utterly?" There was
laughter and the drumming of cups on the table, and shouts of
"Mordred for regent!"

"Well, why not? Who else?"

"Valerius? No, too old."

"Well, Drustan then? Or Gawain?" And
then in a kind of ragged unanimity: "Mordred for regent! Who else?
One of us! Mordred!"

Then the woman came in, and the
shouting died, and the talk veered away to the harmless subject of
tomorrow's hunt.

When they had gone, and the girl was
clearing away the debris of scattered food and spilled wine,
Mordred went out into the air.

In spite of himself, the talk and the
final accolade had shaken him. Bedwyr gone? Himself the undisputed
right hand of the King, and, in the King's absence, unquestioned
regent? Once he were there, and once proved as fighter and
administrator, what was more likely than that Arthur would also
make him his heir? He was still not that: The King's heir was still
Constantine of Cornwall, son of that Duke Cador whom Arthur, in
default of a legitimate prince, had declared heir to the kingdoms.
But that was before he knew that a son of his body would be--was
already--begotten. Legitimate? What did that matter, when Arthur
himself had been begotten in adultery?

Behind him the girl called him softly.
He looked round. She was leaning from the bedchamber window, the
warm lamplight falling on the long golden hair and on one bared
shoulder and breast. He smiled and said, "Presently," but he hardly
saw her. In his mind's eye, against the darkness, he saw only the
Queen.

Guinevere. The lady of the golden
hair, still lovely, of the great grey-blue eyes, of the pretty
voice and the ready smile, and with it all the gentle wit and
gaiety that lighted her presence-chamber with pleasure. Guinevere,
who so patently loved her lord, but who understood fear and
loneliness and who, out of that knowledge, had befriended an
insecure and lonely boy, had helped to lift him out of the murk of
his childhood memories, and shown him how to love with a light
heart. Whose hands, touching his in friendship, had blown to blaze
a flame that Morgause's corrupt mouth could not even
kindle.