Sleepless Knights (10 page)

“Bursting with life,” she said with a smile.

“I would not have it any other way,” I agreed, liking her even more. “It's taken many years, but King Arthur has finally brought light to this dark land. Providing a fine, fierce feasting is the least we can do. Although, it would be enormously helpful if they did not all arrive at once. Perhaps
I will speak to Sir Lancelot and see if we can arrange some sort of vanquishing timetable, to spread the burden over the feasting year. If even a hundred vanquishees could be forwarded to Whitsuntide, it would do much to lighten the load.”

We had reached the end of the wall and the steps leading down into the Great Hall. Beaumains was about to start down the first of these, when I held out a restraining hand. “Not that way,” I said. “Let me show you how Camelot is able to take any strain its guests care to place upon it.” I walked towards the end of the wall, and turned to see a suitably surprised expression on Beaumains' face as I stepped between the turrets and disappeared.

 

We descended the steep winding staircase and into the clanking, hissing, bustling realm of Lower Camelot. All along the main corridor, numerous pages zipped by, conveying service apparatus, running errands and delivering messages.

“I was involved in the construction of Camelot from the design stages,” I said, stepping aside to allow a platter of fruit to pass by. “As a result, I was able to ensure the domestic realm was constructed first — directly on top of the foundations, and beneath ground level. The hidden entrance we just came through on the turret wall is one of hundreds situated throughout the town and castle, providing staff with hands-on access points between Upper and Lower Camelot. My plan was to maximise service, efficiency and guest satisfaction, whilst providing as little disruption as possible and remaining out of sight to the untrained eye. Over the years this has, I am pleased to say, become something of a staff philosophy.”

“Ingenious,” said Beaumains, peering into the kitchens and jumping back as a waiter appeared under a teetering pile of plates. “But I will get lost down here for a hundred years.”

“I based the overall design on a series of concentric ovals. The outer circles support the town and grounds, while the inner serve the castle. If you lose your bearings, simply follow
the blue line on the wall, and you will eventually get back here: the centre point of the Lower Great Hall.”

This area now stretched ahead of us, a vast room containing a network of lifts and pulleys, pipes and troughs, crossbeams and timber scaffolding, illuminated by torches set deep in the walls.

“Even our biggest castles have nothing on such a scale. What is this?” Beaumains had stopped by the central conveyor belt.

“A swift way of sending items from one end of the Lower Great Hall to the other.”

“Magic?”

“Nothing of the sort! It is powered by a diverted underground stream which also provides Camelot with a constant supply of fresh water.”

I guided us into an alcove and stepped up onto a wooden platform — one of many situated along the walls — and adjusted the balance of the counterweight for two. “You may find the following sensation takes a while to get used to,” I said, and released the control lever. The lift winched us swiftly into the air. Beaumains gasped and gripped my arm, only letting go when we came to a smooth halt facing the back of a tapestry that hid the lift from view. I moved it aside for her to step shakily into the light and space of the Upper Great Hall.

I was pleased to see that my three Heads of Staff had already arrived for the morning meeting. Eric's eagle eye observed two kitchen hands staggering beneath the weight of a freshly-spiced boar, skewered on a spit as long as a lance. Bedwyr called out instructions to a page stacking wood in the eastern fireplace, concerning the best arrangement for maximising burning time. On the upper dais of the Round Table, Enid swept the walkways clear of any mice unwise
enough to linger in her path. I gave a discrete cough to notify all three of the start of the meeting.

“A very good morning to you all. I would like to begin by introducing my new deputy Beaumains, with whom you will all be working closely. Beaumains, this is Bedwyr, Head Waiter; Enid, Head of Housekeeping; and Eric, Head Chef.” All three nodded and smiled in greeting. “Now then, Bedwyr. The seating plan.”

“Filling up fast. Twenty or so left on the lower tables, but I've not checked with Geraint yet for overnight arrivals.”

“Then we will have to find more dining space outside the Hall, and prioritise accordingly. Enid, did you speak to Mordred about volunteering some rooms in the West Wing?”

“Tried yesterday,” said Enid, folding her arms. “But he says he needs the space for all the guests he's invited to see him get knighted.”

“He'll be lucky. The smart money's on Gawain, not that midden mouth,” said Eric.

“All the same, he won't budge,” said Enid. “Reckons it's the very least the Master can do, when by rights he should have his own rooms in the Royal Tower. Then he told me to mind my own business and bail out his bedpan.”

“He should thank his lucky stars he's not bunking up with the horses,” said Eric.

“Please, Eric. I understand that Mordred can be a demanding, not to say difficult, guest –”

“Guest? Ha! Guests leave.” said Enid.

“But he is first and foremost the King's brother, and I would remind you to keep that in mind at all times. Enid, tell Mordred that the West Wing will be cleared for emergency accommodation, whether he likes it or not. Any guests he has invited himself will have to take their turn on a first come, first served basis like everybody else. If he has any quarrel with you this time, then point him in my direction.”

“Yes, Sir Lucas.”

“Eric, any dietary requirements Bedwyr should be aware of?”

“Only Sir Marrok. His curse hasn't been lifted, so he can't eat nuts or drink any mead which may contain traces of nuts.”

“Thank you. Finally, has anyone seen the King this morning? He was not in the Royal Chamber.”

“Owen left breakfast early to meet him at the armoury,” said Bedwyr.

This was of modest concern. Upon leaving the King the previous evening, he had made no mention of departing Camelot, and certainly not on any business that would require a trip to the armoury.

“Very well. I may have cause to leave Camelot temporarily this morning. I will entrust Beaumains to your capable hands, to get better acquainted with your respective areas of expertise. Eric, perhaps you would start with a tour of the kitchens?” The three Heads moved to go about their work, Eric waiting to accompany Beaumains. “Beaumains will catch up with you in a moment, Eric.”

I waited until the Great Hall was clear, and took her to one side. “A quiet word, concerning Mordred. Be sure that his appearance is made known to you, and keep an eye on him. The King has asked that his needs are met, within reason. But as you just heard, reason to Mordred is often a grey area.”

“Do not worry. I know his type and how to handle them.”

“All the same, there is some delicate family history you should be aware of. You have heard, I take it, about the business with the sword in the stone?”

“Of course. Our minstrels never tire of singing of how Arthur pulled Merlin's sword out of the stone, proving his royal birth.”

“But what minstrels are not permitted to sing of — by strict Royal decree — is how humiliated Mordred was by the
affair. For this, I blame no one so much as Merlin himself. Not that he is around anymore to take responsibility for his actions.”

At the mention of the wizard, predictably enough Beaumains' jaw had dropped. “You knew Merlin?”

“My first job was serving in the Court of King Arthur's father, Uther Pendragon, to whom Merlin gave counsel, such as it was. At that time, Arthur's mother, Igraine, was married to the Duke of Cornwall. Self-control was never one of Uther's virtues. Desiring Igraine for his lover, Uther waged a petty war on the Duke. While the Duke was away fighting Uther's forces, Uther had Merlin transform him into the exact physical likeness of the Duke, so that he might, er… with Igraine. That is to say, so that he could, um…”

“Know her intimately.”

“Yes, thank you. Merlin's one condition was that the result of this adultery — namely, Arthur — would be given over to his care, until the boy came of age.”

“But why?”

“Because Merlin did what Merlin did, regardless of the consequences.”

“Surely there was a reason? He was a magician, he was wise.”

“That is a matter of opinion. Suffice to say that the Duke of Cornwall died in battle on the very night Arthur was conceived, widowing Igraine. Uther, to his debatable credit, took Igraine as his Queen and her only other child, Morgan, as his adopted daughter. Nine months later Igraine gave birth to Arthur, who was taken away to be raised in secret. Shortly after that, the Queen had another son by Uther — Mordred — but sadly, Igraine did not survive childbirth. If only she had, it would have been better for Morgan. Lacking her mother's guidance and detesting her stepfather, she left home, swearing vengeance on Arthur for
the sins of his father. It is said that she took to the dark arts and made her home in the depths of the Otherworld.

“As for Mordred, he spent his formative years believing himself to be the rightful heir to the throne, little realising that the first born was, in fact, Arthur. When Uther died and the sword in the stone appeared, Mordred was convinced he would be the one to pull it out, and was not deterred by his total inability to do so. For seven days and seven nights, without food or rest, he tried to remove that sword. He became a laughing stock, and his efforts were in danger of creating an even bigger spectacle than the sword itself. Until, of course, Arthur turned up and removed it without so much as breaking a sweat.”

“Poor man. To suffer so publicly. I feel quite sorry for him.”

“Your pity is admirable, Beaumains, but misplaced. The King has bent over backwards to make amends to him ever since, and Mordred has wasted every opportunity that has come his way. If he could hear your kind words, rest assured he would think them the very least he deserves for being so hard done by.”

“I understand. I will be watchful and wary, Sir Lucas,” said Beaumains, and she followed after Eric to the kitchens.

 

I strode through the Gatehouse door, and stopped in my tracks when I almost walked into a tree. I was about to ask Geraint why a major walkway was so obstructed, when the offending foliage spoke and revealed itself to be a man. A giant, to be precise; and no ordinary giant at that. From tunic to jerkin and face to feet, he was entirely green. Geraint the Gatekeeper stood his ground in front of him, like a sapling struggling for sunlight in the shadow of a mighty oak.

“Goad me not, Gatekeeper! My patience wears thinner than a beggar's blanket,” bellowed the giant.

“Come on, sir, be reasonable. It's not a matter of goading, it's simply a question of formality.”

“I — demand — an — audience — with — King — Arthur!” A branch-like finger prodded Geraint in the chest with every word.

“There really is no need for that. Let me get you some ale from the Reception Pavilion — oh, Mr L, thank the blessed beard of Merlin!”

“Good morning, Geraint. And who might this be?”

“This gentleman here is the Green Knight.”

“Welcome to Camelot, Sir Green Knight,” I said. With a loud creak the giant bent down to scrutinise me with an emerald glare.

“And who are you?”

“Sir Lucas, Royal Butler. At your service,” I said, giving a small bow.

“Then buttle me to the Knights of the Round Table! Much chatter have I heard of their splendid skill, and wish to put it to the test —
with a challenge
.”

“I am afraid that will not be possible.”

“Ho! So! You dare to stand in my way?”

“Not at all, Sir Green Knight. My team and I provide a full and comprehensive support package for every quest, challenge and adventure to arrive at the gates of Camelot. There will be ample opportunity for you to present yourself to the Round Table during the course of the feasting period. Please give full details of your challenge, including terms, conditions and expiry date, to Geraint here, and we will fit you in — Geraint, when is the first available time slot?”

“Day after tomorrow, between the indoor falconry and the love poems of Sir Tristram,” said Geraint, consulting his notice board.

The Green Knight reached behind his massive back and produced a double-bladed axe, which he hefted from hand to hand. “If this be a jest, butler, then it is a feeble one, and may prove to be your last. Do you expect
me
to
wait
?”

“No, not at all.”

“Good.”

“You misunderstand me, Sir Green Knight.”

“That's more like it.”

“I do not
expect
you to wait,” I said. “You
will
wait.”

A growl started to rumble in the depths of his throat. The Green Knight raised himself up to full height. He swung the axe back over his shoulder. The weapon whistled through the air and halted a sword's width from my neck. I knew the distance to be the width of a sword, because that was precisely what had stopped the Green Knight's axe in its
path. My sword. The Green Knight gave a startled cry at the sudden appearance of the blade. He lowered his weapon.

“Ha!” he cried, and clapped me on the shoulder. “This is no mere butler, eh Gatekeeper? Then wait I shall. But not for long, mark you. Now, where is this ale?”

“The Reception Pavilion is located in the second courtyard to your left,” I said. “Ask for Granville the Brewer. I highly recommend the cask honey beer.”

The Green Knight stomped out and Geraint fairly shook with relief. “Phe-eew. Thanks for that, Mr L! I tell you what, I've seen it all this morning. One woman was in here earlier, convinced her baby boy's gonna find a magic cauldron that'll bring eternal glory to Camelot. Insisted she present him and his so-called ‘Grail Quest' before the King.”