The Legend of the King (11 page)

"Ah, Alan," the king said. "I wonder if I could prevail upon you to search me."

"Search you?" Alan repeated. He blinked, but then Arthur saw understanding in his eyes. Alan glanced once at Caedmon, then nodded. "Of course, my liege." While Caedmon stood rigidly by, Alan examined his king's pockets and boots. Then he stepped back while Caedmon unlocked the door and Arthur entered his queen's chambers.

Guinevere sat in a chair by the window, a shawl over her shoulders. She didn't rise or speak at Arthur's entrance. Arthur closed the door, heard the key turn in the lock, then said quietly, "How do you, my love?"

"How do you think, Your Majesty?" Guinevere replied coolly. "I'm a prisoner in the rooms where I was once a queen."

"You are still a queen, Gwen."

"Queens don't have to beg permission from peasant guards to have fresh water. Queens aren't locked up in their own bedchambers like common criminals."

"Not
common,
surely," Arthur said gently. Guinevere's jaw tightened, and she glared balefully at her husband. "My love," the king continued, "you have been accused of treason against the Crown."

"Treason?" Guinevere repeated blankly. "I thought you were just angry at—" Then her eyebrows snapped together. "Accused by whom?"

"Officially by Sir Mador de la Porte, but at least a dozen knights have signed the accusation."

Guinevere was thoughtful for a moment. "Another plot of Mordred and Morgause?"

"Undoubtedly," Arthur replied. "An attempt to divide the court, or—at the very least—to distract us."

"Who else signed the accusation? All cronies of Mordred's?" Guinevere asked.

Arthur shook his head. "Some, but not all."

"How am I said to have committed treason?"

"Through your long-standing affair with Lancelot," Arthur said evenly. Guinevere stared at the wall, and Arthur continued. "The statement that Mador drew up asserts that the king is the state, and that to betray the king is therefore treason. It further alleges that the two of you were meeting in secret the other night to plot my murder so that the two of you could marry."

"Arthur, I told you why we were together. We both received false letters—supposed to be from the other—asking to meet. All you have to do is show those letters—"

"The letters have not been found," Arthur said.

Guinevere blinked. "But I told you; my letter was on the writing table."

"It is there no longer, however."

"Then Lancelot can show
his
letter!"

"Lancelot, too, is here no longer," Arthur said. In the silence that followed, he walked across the room to the window where Guinevere sat. He gazed from the window at the rolling English countryside beyond. "It appears," he said, "that after the battle Lancelot left the court. My huntsmen followed his trail east for half a day before coming back. Perhaps he's headed for his castle in the Midlands."

"Lancelot ran away?" Guinevere breathed. "To Joyous Garde?"

"Let us say that he made a strategic, if not necessarily wise, retreat," Arthur replied. "His room was searched, and there was found no sign of the letter that you described. But another letter was found, half written, on his desk. It was a letter to Mordred, promising his assistance in the 'Great Undertaking' that Mordred was engaged in, once I was dead."

"Arthur, no! Lancelot would never betray you!"

Arthur glanced quizzically at Guinevere, then turned back to stare out the window again. Against his own will, against every determination of his soul, the old crushing weight of anger had descended once more on his shoulders. During the years of Guinevere's attachment to Lancelot, Arthur had lived with that weight. Once they had ended their affair and Guinevere had returned to him, Arthur had thought that all the anger had been dispelled. But he had been wrong.

Guinevere, her faced flushed with shame, said meekly, "I didn't mean that."

"No," Arthur said. "I suppose you wouldn't."

"Was I right after all? Is that what this is about?" Guinevere asked suddenly. "Am I, at last, to be punished for being a foolish girl and playing at romance with a handsome hero?"

"No," Arthur said. "This is about the king following his own laws. You have been accused of treason, and by my own decree anyone so accused must be tried in public and kept under guard until that trial."

"You aren't just anyone! You're the king! You should not be treated like others!"

"Don't you mean that
you
should not be treated like others?" Arthur asked. He had to fight to keep his voice gentle.

Guinevere stood abruptly and strode across the room. "This is why I had that cursed affair in the first place," she snapped. "If I could have just been sure, even once, that you cared more for me than for anything else, I would never have turned away! But everywhere I looked there was something that you put before me: the law, England, the throne, your Round Table. I was never first to you, never even second or third."

"And so, to make me love you more than anything, you betrayed me?"

"Lancelot always put me first," Guinevere said. "It was nothing more than that, a girl's childish wish to be treated as a ... a..."

"A queen?" Arthur supplied. Guinevere bit her lip and looked at the floor. Arthur went on, "As I recall, this girl's childish wish of yours went on for some eight years."

"And at least the last five of those regretting we had ever begun, trying desperately to think of a way to end it," Guinevere said. "But how could I send your greatest knight away, perhaps forever? You were still fighting wars. You needed him. I never wanted my stupid, childish infatuation to hurt you."

Arthur gave her another quizzical glance and looked away.

"I mean ... I
know
I hurt you, but then, after a while, it didn't seem you were hurt anymore. You grew hard and cold."

"You gave me no reason to think that displays of affection were acceptable, my dear."

"I know. But I thought I had lost you forever. I thought that if I sent Lancelot away, I'd have no one at all. How was I to know you still loved me?"

Arthur turned away from the window. "How was I to know you still loved
me?
"

"Lord, we were fools," Guinevere said at last.

"For my part," Arthur said, "I'd as soon not go through that again. When you and Lancelot broke it off and he left the court for all those years, we put things back together rather well, I thought. They've been good years since then."

"Except that we had no children," Guinevere said. "You can't know how it's tortured me, wondering if ... if we hadn't been apart those early years of our marriage, maybe I could have borne you an heir."

"There's no point in wondering what might or might not have happened. We can't tell—"

Guinevere interrupted. "Don't tell me you haven't wondered, too!" Arthur was silent, and the queen went on, "And so, because you had no other heir, when Mordred arrived you had no choice but to try to bring him into the court and prepare him to rule. In a way, all this was my fault. Maybe in a strange way, Sir Mador is right. Maybe I did commit treason against England."

Arthur shook his head, but he said nothing.

"So what is the punishment for a woman found guilty of treason? Hanging? Beheading?"

"That's the real reason I came to see you today," Arthur said. "You'll have to stand trial, according to the law. I won't set aside the law of the land simply because I love you. I can't be king if I do that."

"I know."

"But you will almost certainly be found innocent. The statement from Mador is nonsense."

"But what if I'm found guilty?"

Arthur smiled. "Why then, my hands are free again. I can't within the law prevent a trial from happening, but once a person is found guilty, then under the law I have other rights as king."

Guinevere blinked. "Of course. A royal pardon."

Arthur smiled and left the window, crossing to his queen. Taking her in his arms, he held her for a long moment, then kissed her. "I wanted you to know what was going on, but I didn't want you to lose any sleep. The trial will be in three days. I won't come visit you again until then, but know that I am always yours, and that you are always my queen."

"What about Bors?" Parsifal demanded. "There's no knight more upright than Bors. Why can't he be a judge?"

Arthur took a breath before answering. Beside him, Kai grumbled something unintelligible. "As you may recall," Arthur began, "Bors and Lionel are related to Lancelot. Cousins of some sort."

"So?" Parsifal replied. "If your cause is just and Bors is honorable, he won't let that weight his judgment."

"True," Arthur said. "But the thing is, Bors and Lionel aren't here anymore. They disappeared the day after Lancelot left, along with Ector de Maris and, by now, over a score of other knights. It is assumed that they've gone to join Lancelot."

Parsifal's eyes widened, but he said nothing.

Arthur pressed on. "So you see, we need a knight who's known to be just and fair, but who's not too closely connected to my inner circle of advisors. You do see, don't you, that if I appointed Kai, it might not seem impartial."

"Besides," Kai muttered, "if I get too near Mador, I'm likely to push my fist through his face."

"That, also, might not seem impartial," Arthur said. "But you, Parsifal, are as much an outsider as any knight of my table. You spend more time away from Camelot than here, and your integrity is unimpeachable. So I ask: will you do this for me?"

"You ask. But you don't command?"

Arthur shook his head, and after a moment Parsifal nodded.

"Thank you," Arthur said. "You'll be one of three judges. The law calls for one judge from each estate: a noble, a churchman, and a commoner."

"Who are the others?" Parsifal asked.

"Bishop Nacien and Goodwife Grete, from the butcher's shop in the village." Parsifal blinked, then smiled slowly. Arthur returned the smile. "The law does not require that all the judges be men," he added blandly.

Arthur waited at one side of the courtyard, saying nothing. Across the yard, Guinevere sat alone, and between them, at a long raised table, sat the three judges. Behind Guinevere stood a gallows. When writing the law for treason, Arthur had been primarily concerned that a king not use a careless charge of treason to get rid of anyone who opposed him. That was why he had specified that there be a panel of three judges, one from each recognized segment of society. For the same reason, he had required that treason trials be held in public. It hadn't occurred to him, however, that the only forum large enough to accommodate a public trial would be the courtyard used for executions. Even though he knew that Guinevere was in no danger and would be either acquitted or pardoned, Arthur found the looming presence of the gallows chilling.

The three judges looked at Arthur, but he didn't move. After a moment, Parsifal nodded and said, "Ah, I see. I believe the king is waiting for us. We are now in charge. Shall we begin?"

Mador stood up and spoke clearly. "Before we do, Sir Parsifal, I must protest the arrangements for this court. In particular, I protest the presence of a woman on the panel of judges."

"And why is that, Sir Mador?" Parsifal asked.

"Women are irrational creatures, moved by emotion rather than reason. Judges must be impartial."

Goodwife Grete leaned over to Parsifal and whispered a question. Parsifal nodded and said, "Yes, madam. Go ahead."

Grete scowled at Mador for a long second, then said, "Ye ain't married, I take it."

A titter stirred the gathered crowd, but Mador replied sharply, "I am not, but I don't see—"

"So tell me how ye come to know so much about women."

"You need not be married to know that women have lesser minds than men. This is not merely my opinion. So say all the great doctors of the church—"

"Who ain't married neither," Grete said, rolling her eyes. The laughter grew louder.

Mador looked at Bishop Nacien. "Your excellency, is it not true that it was by a woman that sin came into this world? The serpent deceived her, and she ate the forbidden fruit."

Nacien nodded slowly. "That is what Scripture says."

"Is that not a sign of a weaker mind?" Mador asked.

Grete leaned forward and looked past Parsifal at the bishop. "Adam ate the apple, too, didn't he?" Nacien nodded, and Grete continued, "Why does the Book say Adam ate it?"

Nacien smiled very slightly. "Because Eve gave it to him."

Grete snorted and muttered, "Which one sounds like the weaker mind to you, hey?"

Arthur suppressed a smile. He had chosen Grete because she had a reputation of being a woman of strong opinions who was willing to speak them, but this was better than he'd expected.

Parsifal cleared his throat and said, "Sir Mador, your protest is heard, but the law permits a woman to serve on this panel. We are not here to decide whether that law is correct. We are here to try Queen Guinevere for treason. Let us waste no more time."

Nacien and Grete nodded their agreement, and Grete added, "Well said, Sir Parsifal. A fair an' honest judgment. Yere mother teach ye that?"

"She must have," Parsifal replied. "I never knew my father." He nodded to Mador and said, "Continue, please."

Mador looked sour, but he proceeded with his case. "Your honors," he began, then added, "and your
hon-oress,
it gives me no pleasure to accuse our queen of betraying the kingdom, but I must do so." He produced an ancient scroll and said, "I hold here an ancient treaty drafted by King Locrinus, second king of Britain, and signed by the leaders of the Picts after Locrinus had defeated them in battle. Herein I read, 'As ye shall never again take up arms against the kingdom, and never betray the terms of this treaty, so shall ye also honor the person and family of the king, for the king is the kingdom in the flesh.'" Mador set down the document and said, "Why, you might ask, do I read this to you?"

"Ay," grumbled Grete. "I might."

Mador ignored her. "Because here we find clearly stated that a betrayal of the king,
or of the king's family,
is the same as betraying the kingdom."