The Voices Beneath: An Arthurian Retelling

Chapter Sixteen: Revelations

            “You too,” I replied.

            Once he was gone, I clenched my hands into fists, wishing I had Morgan la Fay within my grasp so that I could make her pay for everything she had put me through and the pain she had caused not only me but to my friends because I could not tell the truth. I hoped Merlin found her and was in the process of making her sorry at that moment.

            The return of the stable boy drew me from my dark thoughts that were disturbingly increasing as my suffering was prolonged. I forced myself to rid my mind of them, otherwise I would never be able to use my lance that day and I would surely go out in the first round and add another shame to my list. I went to retrieve Elith and headed out to the field where the spectators were already gathering. I took a deep breath and rode off to my tent, planning to throw everything I had into the tournament that day so that I could forget everything else.

***

It was a few more hours before the tournament would start. I spent the time practicing, running Elith through some simple maneuvers so he would not be too eager later in the lists. As I practiced, I looked around, taking stock of the other knights who I would be competing against that day. Some of them I knew by name, others by their livery, but most were unfamiliar to me. It was then I caught sight of a knight wearing all black and carrying a shield that had no insignia. I frowned, wondering whom it might be. It was not uncommon for a knight, especially a noble, to preform anonymously in a tournament; the problem was in not knowing who you might be up against. I vaguely wondered whether he might be some princeling wanting to escape the fame of his name, and then for some reason, the thought crossed my mind of Arthur doing the same as a young prince. I smiled at the thought, before my heart fell again with the realization that I was in no position to ask him whether he had or not. A part of me suspected—wished—that he had indeed.

            Gawain and Bedivere found me as I was standing outside my tent with Elith’s reins looped around my arm and likely a miserable expression on my face.

            “Come on, young Sir Mordred,” Bedivere said with a grin. “No need to feel so nervous! You’ve quite exceeded all our expectations, I assure you. Now let’s see if you can perform as well in tourney as you do on the training field.”

            I smiled back. “Very well, Sir Bedivere, I accept your challenge.” I mounted up and rode with them to join the other Camelot knights.

            Arthur and Guinevere were coming on the scene now, to the cheer of the spectators. They climbed into the royal box, her hand resting delicately in Arthur’s, and once he had seated her, he nodded to the heralds and a fanfare trumpeted through the arena, quieting the people, but only for just a few moments. It was then that we filed into the field in the center of the stands, and the crowd cheered wildly again. The knights of Camelot went first, the tourney being held in our kingdom, and I rode beside Gawain and the others as we trotted our horses into the arena, and paid homage to our king and queen. Next came the knights of the other kingdoms until the place was so full it appeared that no more could fit in. The crowd seemed to be determined to scream themselves hoarse, but I felt a sudden thrum of excitement pulse through my body; the first thing I had felt besides pain in a long time and I was instantly glad that I had been able to be a part of this, for it was doing me quite a bit of good.

            I looked over to my left to grin at Gawain but then I caught sight of the black knight just over his shoulder and I frowned upon seeing him. There was something about the man that seemed familiar but I could not place it at the moment. I had little time to think of it, however, for we were supposed to be getting off the field in anticipation for the jousting to start.