The Flower of King and Knights

Birth of the Traitor

“Somehow I think that was more genetics than substance induced.”

The porter called out the knights, “You two going to state your business, or will I have to waste more time looking at you?”

Sir Kay anger grew at the slug of a man. “You dare speak to that to a Knight of the Round Table?”

“You speak in a way that appears that I would care for such a title,” the porter said with indignation in his voice.

Sir Kay looked to find Mordred looking down at the parapet. The bastard looked down chuckling at the knight’s being held in discontent by the porter. I’ll give him something to laugh about the knight thought to himself.

Without hesitation he took out his sword and impaled the porter in the gut. The man screamed as the leaned closer to him, “How is that for a title, worm fodder.”

He turned to Mordred and cried out, “There is our message from King Ector, submit to his law or face his wrath!”

Mordred put on a smile for the two knights, “Tell your king I will meet him in one week’s time. And we will then see who is the better warrior.”

The two knights saluted Modred and left for the castle. A guard walked up Mordred. “Should we pursue my liege.”

“No,” Mordred answered coolly. “We will see them upon the battlefield soon enough.”

-    -    -    -

Camelot was bustling with activity. Ladies and lords came and went throughout the halls and rooms. Several actors were in a courtyard rehearsing for a new play. The head of the troupe was screaming at the young man to act more like a woman, making Mordred chuckle as he walked by them.

“Sir Mordred!” cried out a voice.

Mordred turned to find Sir Breunor and Sir Lancelot coming up to him. “My friends, I was just looking for you.”

Both knights looked at Mordred with concern. Mordred was becoming leery. “Is something the matter?”

Lancelot spoke first, “Mordred, did you not hear?”

“Hear what?”

“It…it’s your mother.”

“Is my mother all right?”

“…She…she’s…”

Sir Breunor finished Lancelot’s sentence, but with dread in his voice. “She’s dead Mordred.”

“Sweet Jesus! When did this happen?”

“Last week,” said Sir Lancelot, he paused before continuing. Mordred could tell the knight wanted to speak of anything else. “Last week your mother was slain by Sir Gaheris.”

Mordred cried in horror. “What! My own brother!”

“Aye, he caught your mother in bed with Sir Lamorak. And…he took her head as they…”

“Oh my God!” cried Mordred. He feel to his knees and began to weep without a care. “She was my mother! She was our mother! I loved her more than anything else in the world. And Gaheris killed her!”

Lancelot tried to console the knight, “Sir Mordred, please, you need to be composed...”

“He wasn’t even there when King Lot was slain. He never helped her through that time. And now her love just let her be killed!”

Sir Breunor tried to explain Sir Lamorak’s lack of protection from Sir Gaheris’ attack, but Mordred heard none of it. “That man was my friend, I even saved his life on several occasions. And this is how my friendship is repaid. By letting my mother be slaughtered by her own child! He’s dead to me.”