The Squire's Quest (10 page)

Acoriondes looked startled. "You want to ... you want to cross and attack the castle? But we have only six men left."

Alexander grinned wildly. "Change armor!"

Acoriondes blinked. "Change ... you mean exchange armor with some of the dead?"

"They will let us in the castle gates."

"It's brilliant!" breathed Mordred, who had just ridden up. "Come on! At once!"

Acoriondes met Terence's eyes, then gave a halfsmile and a shrug, as if to say,
It might work; if it doesn't, we'll all die.
Terence returned the smile and began looking about for a dead knight about his size.

Knights are not generally very good at putting on their own armor, so it was a good thing that Terence was there. For the next half-hour Terence was very busy, going from man to man and helping with the buckles and latches that were hardest for a knight to reach for himself. Last of all, he also put on a suit of armor. The Greek knights were uncomfortable in the unfamiliar English armor, but they looked the part anyway, except that they all chose to keep their own ornate Greek swords. Mordred kept his own weapons, too, a sword on his left hip and a long thin dagger on his right, but Terence chose a new sword from those scattered about.

Alexander barked a command. It was in Greek, but Terence had no trouble interpreting it:
Let's go!
They started around the bend and, as Alexander had guessed, found a broad, flat ferry with a ferryman waiting on board. Terence realized suddenly that if one of the Greek knights spoke, the ferryman would hear their Greek accents, and so he pushed to the front, whispering, "Let me do the talking," to Acoriondes and Alexander. They nodded.

"They were waiting for us!" Terence said, as gruffly as he could. "This is all we have left. Take us across before they attack again."

The ferryman jumped into action, untying ropes while the knights dismounted and led their horses onto the ferry. "Are they after you already?" the boatman whispered to a passing knight—it was Cligés, Terence remembered from the armor—but Cligés only shrugged and moved on. The ferryman took no notice. He was evidently used to being ignored by knights. They crossed the Thames, then piled out on the other side and remounted. Alexander waved his arm in a silent command, and they started up the banks toward Windsor Castle.

At the closed gate they stopped and waited. "Let us in!" Terence shouted as loudly as he could. A head appeared at the battlements, Count Anders himself. He had sent his knights out to battle but stayed behind. "What news?" the count shouted.

"We've got them on the run!" Terence replied. "But these men are wounded." That much, at least, was convincing. Most of the men's armor had blood on it in somewhere.

"And you brought them back here? Get back to the battle! I don't care if they're hurt! They can all ride!"

So much for appealing to Count Anders's humanity. Terence tried a different approach. "But we thought you 'd want to be present at King Arthur's surrender. We came back to escort you to the scene!"

This gambit worked. Count Anders seemed struck by the image of himself receiving Arthur's sword, and after a moment called, "I'll put on some armor. Open the gates!"

The heavy wooden gate swung open, and in a flash Alexander and his men were inside, cutting down Anders's men with precision and fury. Now, in full light, Terence could see that Alexander fought with skill and the passion of a berserker. Cligés, too, was displaying great swordsmanship, and then Terence had no time to watch, because the alarm was raised and all the guards and knights left in the castle were running to the fray. For twenty minutes that seemed like hours Terence had no chance to think, only to react. He was not himself a great swordsman—though Gawain had tried to give him lessons more than once—but his agility and reflexes saved his life repeatedly. And then the battle was over. The last of Count Anders's men were throwing down their weapons, and Count Anders himself—still wearing no armor, knelt trembling before Alexander, begging for mercy.

"That is for Arthur to decide," panted Alexander. Beside him stood Cligés and Acoriondes and two other Greek knights, all that remained of Alexander's company. "But you shall live long enough to explain yourself to him." Alexander lowered his sword and said, "Stand up!"

Still shaking violently, Count Anders climbed to his feet. Then a knight strode from the shadows: Mordred. "How dare you, Count!" Mordred demanded in a hoarse whisper. "You have lied to the king, you lied to me! You have no honor and should be executed at once!" He pressed forward, his face mere inches from Anders's, forcing the count to take several steps backwards, as he continued hissing under his breath at the count.

"But you said ... but..."

"Come, Mordred," said Alexander. "Leave him for the king."

Mordred stopped hissing, nodded, and turned away. As he turned, Anders snatched the long dagger from Mordred's belt and leaped toward Alexander. Mordred's sword flashed like lightning, striking off the count's head, which dropped at the emperor's feet. The count's body crumpled and fell between them, Mordred's dagger still clutched in his lifeless hand.

"Your Highness!" Mordred gasped. "I beg your pardon. I placed your life in peril! In my anger, I didn't even think about the weapon at my side. Forgive me."

"Forgive you?" repeated Alexander. "But you saved my life! I should be thanking you!"

Mordred shook his head. "I am glad I was able to stop him, but if I had not been so careless, you would never have been in danger."

Then the castle gates, which were still ajar, swung open more widely, and into the courtyard strode a company of knights, with King Arthur himself at their head. He looked fiercely at Alexander, in his unfamiliar armor, and snapped, "Where is your master?"

Alexander removed his helm and lifted his chin. "I have none," he said simply.

Slowly, Arthur smiled and heaved a great sigh. "Alexander," he said simply. "We found your armor and feared the worst. Did you ... did you do all this?"

Alexander shrugged modestly. "It was nothing."

"And Count Anders?"

Alexander glanced at the body at his feet. "Mordred killed him," he said.

Terence saw Gawain enter the castle behind the king, and removing his borrowed helm, he crossed the courtyard to join him. Gawain raised his visor and gazed at Terence in surprise. "What are you doing in that armor?"

"Later, milord," Terence said. "Let's go find Bedi-vere."

Leaving Alexander explaining his part in the battle to Arthur, Terence and Gawain made their way to the dungeons. "Bedivere!" Gawain called. There was no answer.

Terence stopped in his tracks. In the furthest cell, a shapeless form lay huddled on the stone floor. "Milord!" he called.

They hurried to the cell and turned the form over. It was Bedivere, and he was dead. "Dried blood on his back, milord," Terence said quietly. "Somebody with a dagger."

In the days that followed Count Anders's rebellion, there was great joy at Camelot—and great sorrow. All rejoiced that the revolt had been put down so swiftly and decisively, and of all the heroes of the battle, the most celebrated was the Emperor Alexander, whose daring plan had won the day. But those were also days of mourning. Nearly thirty of Arthur's men had been lost, and no loss was felt more keenly than that of Bedi-vere, who had been the most widely loved of Arthur's inner circle. Proportionally, Alexander's losses were even greater than Arthur's. Of the Greek knights and squires who had fought, half had been killed outright, and several more lay grievously wounded. Alexander himself had three superficial wounds. The only member of the Greek party who had escaped without a scratch was Acoriondes's smiling squire, Bernard. In gratitude to Alexander, Arthur deeded a plot of land near Camelot to him and declared that it should belong to Alexander and his heirs in perpetuity. There the emperor buried his fallen companions, and for a full fortnight, he and the surviving Greeks left the court to keep vigil over their comrades graves.

The Battle of Windsor led to another ceremony as well. After all the funerals had been observed, King Arthur assembled the Round Table and—for his part in the battle and especially for saving the life ofthe Emperor Alexander—made Mordred a knight of the Round Table. Terence watched the ceremony grimly, but said nothing. In the eyes of the court, Mordred was nearly as much a hero as Alexander.

Two days later the Greeks ended their vigil, and Alexander returned to Camelot with those of his companions who were able to walk. The emperor's arrival was met with an impromptu triumph, as townspeople and courtiers lined the streets and cheered. Alexander only shook his head sadly. "Please," he said, when the shouts had subsided enough for him to be heard, "I am glad to have served King Arthur, but I have buried too many friends to be joyful. Forgive me." Leaving the crowds abruptly, he entered the castle to pay his respects to Arthur.

Sarah, who had been standing beside Terence, murmured, "I don't think I have ever liked Alexander as much as I do now," and followed the emperor into the castle.

Almost immediately, Terence sensed that someone else had filled the place beside him. Turning, he looked into the eyes of Acoriondes. "Squire Terence," the solemn counselor said, with a nod.

"Good day, my lord," replied Terence.

"I am glad to have found you so soon upon our return," Acoriondes said. Terence raised his eyebrows, surprised. Acoriondes said, "I wonder if we might talk privately."

Curious, Terence led Acoriondes up the long winding stairs to the top of the north tower, where not only could they be alone but they would hear the echoing steps of anyone following them. "What is it?" Terence asked.

When it came to the point, Acoriondes seemed uncertain how to begin. At last he said, "It has sometimes seemed to me that you are not a great admirer of young Sir Mordred."

Terence fixed his eyes on Acoriondes's face. "Do you know something about Sir Mordred?"

"I
know
nothing," Acoriondes admitted. "But I have questions. In the days of our vigil I have thought much about things I saw that day that do not make sense."

"Like what?"

"Before I speak, is it true that you were the one who gave the alarm before the battle?" Terence nodded. "How could that be?" Acoriondes asked. "I was standing beside your Sir Kai as he appointed the sentries, and you were not among them."

"I was following Mordred," Terence admitted.

"I wondered if that was it. I have seen how you are never far from him. But why was Sir Mordred out of bed?"

"He was taking his turn on watch."

Acoriondes shook his head. "Sir Kai did not name Sir Mordred a sentry either."

Terence realized at once that Acoriondes was telling the truth. Kai would never have placed Mordred in a position of trust. So why had Mordred relieved the guard?

"And why," Acoriondes continued, "if you were following Mordred, did you hear the count's men approaching while he did not?"

"I do have very keen hearing," Terence explained, but even as he said it he remembered Mordred's uncanny awareness of him in the dark. If Mordred had sensed Terence's presence in utter blackness, why had he not sensed the approach of the enemy?

"Or the other sentries?" Acoriondes went on. "Have you wondered why they heard nothing?" Terence shook his head, but he was beginning to wonder now. Acoriondes's lips set grimly, and he said, "Now I will tell you what I found when I was searching the field after the battle: two men lying between Arthur's camp and the river, with their weapons sheathed and their throats cut."

"You think they were the other guards?" Terence asked, his eyes widening.

"I cannot say. I do not know your knights or remember who were the sentries. But why would anyone have gone into battle with his sword undrawn?"

Terence gazed bleakly from the tower at the bright, sunny pastures below.

"Here is another question," Acoriondes said. "Did not Sir Mordred tell the king that Count Anders was provisioned for a long siege?"

"Yes," Terence said slowly, comprehension dawning. "But he wasn't, was he?" Terence had been among those who, after the battle, had searched the castle. They had been looking for hiding rebels, not supplies, but now he realized that there had been no stores of food. Then he shook his head. "But that doesn't mean Mordred was lying; he may have just been repeating what the count told him."

"True," Acoriondes said. "And there's one more thing: at the last, just before the count stole Mordred's knife and attacked my master, could you hear what Sir Mordred was saying to him?"

Terence shook his head. "Could you?"

"No. Only hissing. But I wonder—when the count drew Sir Mordred's knife, why did he attack Alexander, several steps away from him, instead of Sir Mordred who stood beside him with a drawn sword?"

Terence swallowed. "That
is
strange—unless the count believed that he was in no danger from Mordred." Terence's heart felt suddenly heavy as other details began to make sense. In Mordred's private diplomatic conferences with Count Anders, had they been seeking terms of peace, or plotting this rebellion together? And when Mordred killed Anders, had he been saving Alexander's life or silencing one who knew too much?

"And yet," Acoriondes said, "all of these questions could be answered without casting the slightest blame on Sir Mordred."

Reluctantly, Terence agreed. Even Mordred's unassigned guard duty could be explained: Terence could just imagine him saying that he had been unable to sleep anyway and so thought he would let some guard have rest before the battle. "So what do you think?"

"I think," Acoriondes said, "that either your Sir Mordred is guiltless, or he is very dangerous indeed. At the imperial court at Constantinople, I am acquainted with many courtiers who live for nothing but intrigue. If Sir Mordred is really behind all this, he surpasses them all."

A week later, Mordred announced his intention to ride out alone in search of adventure. Since this was perfectly normal, even expected, of a new knight, there was nothing in it to arouse misgivings in anyone who wasn't already suspicious. Terence hated the thought of Mordred going off on his own, but after his experience in the dark before the battle, he knew he couldn't follow Mordred unnoticed. He had to stand with the rest of the court and watch him ride away alone.