Ides of the May (Children of the May 2 - updates weekly)

Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Short Straw

Merlin was delighted by Arthur's words. He stepped away from me, pounding his staff on the ground in glee.

'My terms are these, Mark,' shouted Arthur up to the wall. 'As you have proven your loyalty to my crown by sending these May-children beyond your walls, I offer you a chance to prove your good faith beyond doubt. Support my champion in this trial before God, and, if I am victorious, as I surely will be, I will order my forces from Tintagel. I'll even give you your queen back, as she seems to have been put out of the gates through some error.'

'She's no queen of mine,' shouted Mark. Sir Bersulus' hand shook as he raked his thinning hair. 'The woman's a witch. I have long laboured under her enchantments. Give her to Tristan to deal with as he sees fit.'

Across from me, the knight of Cornwall gave a foul grin. 'I knew you'd realise it eventually, father. Everything I said was true.'

'That's shite king Mark of TintagHell-o,' sang Elia at the top of her voice.

Queen Melody was moved neither by Tristan's words nor those of her husband. She placed a hand on the top of Elia's head to silence her.

Sir Bersulus whispered something in his king's ear. The poor old knight was frantic. Mark pushed him away.

'Acknowledge me once more the free king of Cornwall, as you did after the War of Eleven kings, Arthur,' shouted Mark, 'and I will agree to your terms.'

Arthur feigned bafflement. 'But of course, Mark, when I have ever said different?'

'Say it, Arthur.'

The king of Camelot sighed. 'Of course I do.'

'Say it.'

Arthur winked at Sir Tristan. 'You're the free king of Cornwall, Mark,' he said quietly. 'There. Happy now?'

'I am content,' shouted Mark.

'Good, that's good,' said Arthur. 'Merlin, my old friend?'

The wizard reached inside his cloak, and from somewhere inside its folds produced two straws of hay, one longer than the other. 'Behold,' he called, showing the strands to the massed men on the left and right, and to the Cornish up on the wall. 'For the drawing of Camelot's champion.'

'And you,' said Arthur, now addressing the friends I had abandoned below the wall. 'If your champion is victorious: you all go free. If he or she loses: you die.'

Mordred held his father's black eyes, so similar to his own, and nodded.

There was a roar from the Sessite general as he showed the shorter straw to the crowd. The Sessites on my right roared their approval of the choice.

'Hermann the Sessite will champion Camelot,' announced Merlin once the cheers had died down.

Beyond Sir Tristan, Melwas was trembling. As soon as Merlin began to move towards the gates she broke, running back to the people she had left moments before. Quick as a flash of lightning, Tristan leapt towards her and tripped her up. There were roars of laughter all around us as the Gaul went sprawling in the dust.

'Now, now, my dear,' Sir Tristan said to her. 'You've already made your choice. You can't go back now.'

Mordred stepped forward before Merlin got to the group below the gates. 'There's no need for lots,' he said. 'I volunteer.'

Merlin stopped in his tracks. He sighed. 'No, no, Mordred of Erin,' said the wizard. 'That's not how it works at all. God chose Camelot's champion, so he must also choose yours.'

Piers stepped forward and stood by Mordred's side.

There was laughter from left and right. One of the British soldiers shouted: 'Best of luck, fatty.'