“What the hell is wrong with you?” roared Mordred. His face was red as he looked at Morgan as he was going to strike at her. Several of her guards gripped their swords if anything grew worse.
Morgan sat in her chair glaring at Mordred. Bored of his continual consternation, in the back of her mind she wondered why she still kept him around for her plans to claim the crown. “I should be asking you that? You had a golden opportunity to kill the little bastard and you didn’t.”
“And had you not fouled his spear and saddle, I would’ve been able to beat him in a fair fight.”
“A fair fight, do not insult my intelligence. You and I both know how you slew Sir Lamorak and Sir Dynadan by stabbing both of them in the back.”
“Those were men of lesser quality of knighthood. Ector doesn’t deserve such a death. He is different.”
“You’re a fool, a damned fool Mordred. And you should know better.”
“You don’t understand. You never understood us at all.”
“Understood what? That Ector is the enemy, our enemy? He needs to be slain if we are to succeed, and here you are looking to find a way to kill in an honorable manner. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought you were trying to sabotage our efforts.”
“Never, but he…he’s a king. He has placed his safety at risk for his people repeatedly. And he is the head of the Round Table.”
“Oh that damned table. You treat it like it has any meaning.”
Morgan noticed Mordred staring back at her. “Why her you looking at me like that?”
“I was a Knight of the Round Table. When I fought Arthur, I was a Knight of the Round Table. I lived by those standards as if they were my blood. It meant something to me. And it wasn’t until those men who I worshiped, turned to be low men, that I looked to clean that order of those men of low valor.”
Morgan shook her head. “My sweet, if you knew the naivety of which you speak, you would die from shame.”
“Naïve hope gives a man reason for living. If they do not have some ideal so innocent and pure to guide them, then why should they live?”
Mordred walked out of the room and out onto a parapet of Morgan’s castle. He looked towards the direction of Camelot. He could hear the clanging of armor and weapons as Ector’s host began their march to their castle. Merlin would’ve told Ector the best method for victory, strike first. Make the enemy come to him on ground that he chooses.
Mordred knew Ector wouldn’t attack them directly. And for the first time in years, Mordred wished that none of this had ever happened.
As he closed his eyes he thought he heard the sound of horse hooves coming towards the castle. He kept his eyes closed and waited for the knights to announce themselves. The porter walked up to the knights. The prolonged shuffling of the steps gave away the porter’s drunken stupor.
“Yup,” said the porter.
“I say good sir,” it was the voice of Sir Kay, “This is the castle of the Queen of Dore, yes?”
“Yup,” replied to porter, the man began to slur in his speech.
Sir Kay whispered to the knight next to him, “Sir Bedivere, doesn’t he look like…”
“Aye he does, that tall rat faced lad Ector used to work with.”
“I thought his demeanor was the result of all that cannabis he smoked at work.”
“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.”
Lancelot forced himself to tell Mordred, “The king wants to see you.”
“Why?”
“Since she was your mother, he thought you would want to be present when he gives sentence to Sir Gaheris.”
Mordred reluctantly agreed to come before the king, who tried to comfort the boy as he grieved. The guards entered the room with Sir Gaheris in the middle. The brother tried to greet Mordred who was held back by Sir Breunor, Sir Lancelot, Sir Tristan and Sir Gareth. “You bastard, I’ll kill you!”
The king ordered for silence in the hall. “Sir Gaheris, is there anything that you have to say for what you did?” the king asked. The knight was silent. “Gaheris,” the king insisted, “Will you speak?” Still he was silent.
King Arthur sighed heavily. “In that case, since you are of high born and a member of our order. I order you to be banished from this court until I find it fit for you to return to us.”
Mordred was outraged, “That’s it. That’s his punishment! Where is the justice in that?”
King Arthur tried to calm the knight down, “My good knight, you know full well that if anything more happened to him, kingdoms would rise up and declare a blood feud that would know no end.”
“Who would rise against you when you are punishing a man who killed his mother, naked, in bed? Where is the honor in that?”
“My boy, you need to watch your tongue.”
“I am speaking what many in this room are thinking, and I do so with the fact that my own brother slew my mother. And I am ashamed that I serve in the court that would allow my mother to be slain without proper justice done by my own fa…”
“Sir Mordred!” bellowed King Arthur. “I have accepted you into this order with open arms, and have watched you grown from a young boy into a fine knight. Do not make me regret letting this be, and choose your next words wisely.”
“Then I will take my leave from this room. For I do not know if I can avoid such incensed words.” Mordred bowed to the king, turned to look at Gaheris, and then left the room as quickly as he could.
Days after their mother’s funeral, Mordred stood over his mother’s grave. The rain began to fall, mixing with the tears that the son shed. He looked over to the castle of Camelot. The light shining from the great citadel was mired with streaks of grey and black.
The disease of hypocrisy infected the once beautiful city. Mordred felt a wrath that he had not felt since he was a squire in the war between Arthur and the Roman Empire. He wanted to burn away the wretched disease, he wanted to rid it of the sin of arrogance, of lust, of blood, he would bring its honor and glory back.
He found himself as the last Knight of the Round Table. The last one who held the ideals to his heart. He was the last true member of the sacred order of chivalry. “I will save this kingdom. Save it from the foul wretched curs that defile its virtue, even as I speak to the gods and spirits of these lands. For as I stand here, they ride forth, striking down women, men of high honor, and for what? Where does this count for might for right? They have become the might and now they decide what is right.”
“And all who rise to speak against them are cut down with the fiercest of fury. But if one of them slays in cold blood, they are treated as if they were children. No, this cannot survive. Not if we are to avoid the ages of wars, ages of terror, and to avoid submission to a storm of chaos that will consume us all.”
“And I will make them pay. I will make them all pay. The deaths of you will not have been in vain mother. I will make my enemies strike down their own members. I will take away their heart and passion. I will make king fight his own kind, and then I will take this land from their warring hands, and bring true peace to these lands. The days of the king have begun their final count. Now it is I who must rescue these lands from the rabble that have come to rule. And I will not fail.”
A voice came out from the woods. “A stirring speech, young Mordred.”
The knight turned to find a fair maiden looking back at him, he knew who the woman was. “Morgan le Fae, what brings you to these lands?”
“I came when I heard of my sister’s death. I see I am not the only who has grown in rage against the king.”
“My quarrel is not with the king alone, but the men who he is now surrounded by.”
“Yes, but any attempt to strike at the king will need men, money, and other resources. Things that I can provide.”
Mordred was skeptical. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch, just to share in the glory of the new reign of King Mordred, High King Briton.”