The Squire's Quest (8 page)

"Where?" asked Eileen.

"The antipodes, maybe. Africa, at least. What's farthest from here?"

The next morning, Mordred and Bedivere returned from their diplomatic mission, with Count Anders riding between them. Arthur received his stubborn vassal in the throne room, where the count knelt before the king and laid a wooden chest at the foot of the throne. "My taxes, sire, along with my rents for the next quarter," he said.

"Your rents, too?" asked Arthur, mildly surprised.

"I have not been as true to my vows as I could have been, Your Highness. But your ambassador has persuaded me to amend my ways."

Arthur looked at Mordred, standing humbly at the rear of the room, and a smile touched the king's lips. "Indeed? And what did Mordred say that accomplished what so many others have failed to do?"

"It was not what he said, sire. It was that he listened."

The king raised his eyebrows. "Listened to what?"

Mordred stepped forward. "Please, Your Highness, if I may explain?" Arthur nodded. "Count Anders has been slow to pay his lawful dues because of his own worry. His lands lie on England's eastern shore, and he had heard rumors that pirates from across the sea were planning to attack. He needed every farthing to fortify the coasts. I simply reminded him that the defense of England was not his job but yours, and that by setting himself against you he was depriving himself of his greatest ally."

Kai, standing behind Arthur, looked skeptical, but Arthur nodded. "Mordred is right. I should be glad to discuss your defenses and determine what is to be done."

The count bowed again, and the general court was dismissed while Arthur and his council of war met with Count Anders. Terence was not a part of that council, but he heard the results when Gawain returned to their rooms later. Arthur had agreed to send a caravan of supplies, horses, and weapons to fortify Count Anders's coastal defenses, and Count Anders had renewed his oath of vassalage to the king. "It seems to have worked out pretty well," Gawain concluded, "in spite of all Kai could say."

"Kai didn't like it?"

"He says he's not keen on giving weapons to someone who just a few months ago looked to be starting a rebellion."

"Well, that's a fair point, I'd think," Terence said.

Gawain shrugged. "Maybe, but it was pretty clear that Kai's real reason was that he doesn't like Mordred. I must say, Mordred took it pretty calmly, too."

"Mordred was there? In the war council?"

Gawain nodded. "A little irregular, I know, but he'd begun the negotiations, after all."

Terence nodded, but he couldn't help wondering if Arthur was granting Mordred so much trust only because he so desperately wanted him to be trustworthy. Somehow it didn't seem enough to believe something was so just because you wanted it to be so. But two days later even Terence was surprised at the extent of Arthur's trust in Mordred. That morning, the king announced that since England was at complete peace, it was time for him to make an overdue visit to the lands under his rule in northern France, in Brittany. He, the queen, the council, and most of his court would spend several months there, and in the king's absence England would be under the charge of Mordred and Sir Bedivere.

The party that set out for Brittany a week later was much larger than usual, and several of those who went with the king would have given much to stay behind. Among those were Kai, Sarah, and Terence.

Brittany, on France's northwestern coast, had belonged to the kings of Britain for as long as anyone could remember. It had often been neglected by those kings, but King Arthur tried to rule all of his lands with equal care, even those that lay across the sea. He had appointed an honest Breton governor and made a point of visiting Brittany himself as often as possible. But those delegations had usually consisted of the king, Sir Bedivere, and an honor guard of a dozen or so knights. In his absence, Arthur had always left Kai in charge of Britain, so his change of plans this time surprised everyone. Not only was he leaving England in the hands of a youth who wasn't even a knight yet, but he specifically named Kai, Gawain, and Terence among those who would go to Brittany with him.

Kai was livid and, in private, argued vehemently against leaving Mordred in charge, even with Bedivere at his side. "You know Bedivere, Arthur," Kai protested. "He's too trusting! Especially of young knights! He's soft!"

"Why do you think I chose him?" was all the king would reply.

For her part, Sarah had seen the king's journey to France as her chance to get away from Alexander and had begged his permission to go along. But the emperor had thwarted these plans in the simplest way: by announcing his decision to accompany the king to Brittany as well.

As for Terence, he was more than ever convinced that he ought to be watching Mordred, but he said nothing to the king until the night before their departure. It was late evening, but the midsummer sun was still above the horizon when Terence happened to glimpse a movement on the north tower. Having for the moment lost track of Mordred, Terence climbed the tower stairs to see who was there. It was King Arthur, standing alone at the turret, examining the lush landscape before him.

"My liege," Terence said. "Forgive my interruption."

"It's all right, Terence," Arthur said. "Looking for Mordred?"

Terence had to smile ruefully. "Yes, actually. Am I that obvious?"

"Not to everyone, I imagine. But to me, yes. You see, I also am keeping an eye on him."

Terence raised one eyebrow. "Are you suspicious of Mordred?"

"I have no reason to be," the king replied evenly. "Have you?"

Terence swallowed. "No," he said at last. "Nothing I could explain. Call it a feeling. I just sense that he's not to be trusted."

"An opinion you share with Kai, it seems," Arthur said drily.

Terence nodded, and for a long moment they looked together at the fields below, glowing red in the blush of the setting sun.

"Terence," the king said, "have you wondered what will happen to England when I'm dead?" Terence nodded. Everyone had wondered. "And what do you foresee?" Arthur continued.

Terence answered frankly. "War. I think that nobles who ve been lying low during the peace will try to grab what they can when there's no one on the throne."

The king nodded. "That's what I see, too. And doesn't it seem to you that a true king ought to care as much for the next generation as he does for his own? But what can I do to prevent such a war? I should be preparing my successor for the evil times to come, but Guinevere and I have no children."

"Couldn't you just choose one of your knights to succeed you?" Terence asked.

"Who?" the king answered. "Who would you choose? It should be someone who's young enough to rule for more than a few years—so not Kai or Bedi-vere. But it should also be someone with the wisdom and experience to rule well. Can you think of one of the young knights you would choose as king?"

Terence pondered this. He knew of several honorable and trustworthy young knights but could think of none who could step into Arthur's shoes. He shook his head. "But Mordred? You ve only known him a few weeks. Surely you haven't chosen him!"

"I have chosen to test him," Arthur replied, "to see if he shows promise. And so far, I think you'll agree, he's exceeded expectations. At least he isn't a hothead who'll rush into war. And there's one more thing. Whoever follows me must be someone the country will accept as king, and Mordred
is
my son. One day, when I die if not before, I will make that known. I may have to hide that truth now, for Guinevere's sake, but I won't take it with me to the grave."

Terence chose his words carefully. "But what if Mordred isn't a man of honor, O king?"

"He still must know who his father is. I have no right to hide that from him forever. And then what? Once he's known to be my son, the die will be cast. Whoever I choose as my successor, some will declare Mordred king, simply because of his birth. If I don't choose Mordred, I'll be guaranteeing a civil war."

None of this had occurred to Terence before, but he saw that the king was right. As soon as Mordred's birth was known to all, then most would accept his right to the throne without question. Then he frowned. "But, sire, his birth is not legitimate."

"Neither is mine," Arthur replied calmly. "Remember? I'm the bastard son of King Uther Pendragon and Igraine of Cornwall."

Terence nodded. The king's arguments were irrefutable. "But why give Mordred so much responsibility so quickly? Surely there is time to—"

"One never knows how much time one has, Terence," Arthur replied calmly. "I may die sooner than expected." Terence looked sharply at the king's face. Arthur smiled. "Nay, don't look like that, old friend. I have no reason to think that my time is nearing. Call it a feeling."

With this Terence had to be satisfied. "All the same, my liege, I beg you: let me stay at Camelot while you are gone."

Arthur shook his head. "No, Terence. I'm not the only one who is aware that you re watching Mordred: Mordred knows. He probably thinks you're doing so at
my command. But this time I want him to feel entirely trusted. Will you obey me in this, Terence?"

Dropping to one knee, Terence bowed his head. "I would throw myself from this tower at your command, my king. Yes, I will obey."

King Arthur shook his head. "Don't be an ass, Terence. If I ever command you to throw yourself from a tower, have me locked up, will you?"

If it weren't for his gnawing anxiety about Mordred, Terence would have enjoyed the time in Brittany. At any rate, everyone else in the British party did. King Arthur and Kai spent every morning with the Breton governor, going over laws and accounts, but even they set business aside at noon. And, for the rest ofthe delegation, the visit was a time of uninterrupted pleasure. There were games and hawking parties and hunts and banquets and picnics and, of course, courtly dalliance. Gawain, noting how many courtiers and ladies had paired up during the trip, wondered to Terence if it might be something in the French air.

"French wine, more like," Terence replied drily.

"Well, you can't fault them for that. It
is
good wine. These Bretons couldn't make a decent ale to save their lives, which is a pity, but they've compensated nicely with their wines. And it does seem to aid courtship, doesn't it? I wouldn't be surprised if we have a half-dozen weddings once we return to England."

Among the romances, though, Emperor Alexander's pursuit of Sarah remained unquestionably the courtship-in-chief. Alexander missed no opportunity to express his faithful devotion. One day Sarah was overheard to admire a particular flower; the next morning, a dozen bouquets of that flower were delivered to her door. "Fine," she muttered to Eileen and Terence. "I don't like that flower anymore." To make matters worse, Alexander had gained a powerful ally. Queen Guinevere, who had always found the emperor's affection to be moving, began to take an active part in his courtship. She now shared with Cligés the role of advisor and go-between. She took messages to Sarah from her imperial admirer and, in return, delivered tokens to him—things that Sarah had touched, a hair plucked from her brush, an embroidered handkerchief, and so on.

"It's all so false!" Sarah complained to Terence after about three weeks in Brittany. "No, not false. That's not what I mean. I don't think Alexander's
lying,
exactly. But he isn't real, either. Everything he does is like his next move in some game with complicated rules that I don't even want to understand. I thought back at Camelot, when he sent his brother to ask if he could hope, that he was finally going to be open and straightforward. Cligés looked so sincere. But now we're back to all this mummery and nonsense. When are we going back to Britain, anyway?"

As it turned out, they left the very next day. That evening, at a large al fresco banquet in the fields outside the governor's castle, a French minstrel's long and tragic tale of doomed love was interrupted by a flurry of hoofbeats, then a galloping rider. The horseman threw himself from the saddle and ran, gasping, to King Arthur. "My liege!" cried the messenger. "I bring you the worst of news! You are betrayed, and it is my fault!"

It was Mordred.

King Arthur rose to his feet. "What is it?"

"Count Anders has raised a rebellion against you, using the weapons that I convinced you to give him. I was a fool, sire!"

"But where are my armies? I left enough troops to face a rebellion."

"Most are in Scotland. Bedivere got word of an uprising there and sent them to counter it. My king, Anders has already burned London and set up a base somewhere thereabouts."

"Where's Bedivere?" asked the king sharply.

Mordred bowed his head. "A prisoner, my lord. Someone at Camelot must be in the count's pay, because a party of Anders's men got into the castle and captured Bedivere in his bed. But for sheer luck, they would have taken me as well. I was able to kill one and hide."

"But Bedivere's alive, you say?" Arthur looked grim.

"I believe so, sire. I heard one of the men say that they were to take him to the count. As soon as they were gone, I sent two separate messengers to Scotland, recalling your troops from there. Then I set off for Brittany myself." With a sob, Mordred bowed his face to the ground. "Sire, forgive me. I should have listened to Sir Kai. Count Anders was planning this all along. He played me for a fool, and I didn't see it."

"We have all been fools," the king said. "But tomorrow we shall be warriors. The women shall stay here until I send for them. The rest of us depart at dawn!"

The channel winds cooperated with the British knights return, with the result that less than a week later Arthur's men had sailed up the Thames River to the old Roman city of London. There they found blackened ruins and grieving citizens, but no Count Anders. The count, they learned, had stayed in London only long enough to pillage it and destroy what was left before moving west, to one of Arthur's secondary residences, Windsor Castle. A day later, Arthur's men were camped across the Thames from the stone walls of Windsor.