Return to Camelot



by Jeffrey Allen White


Chapter 1

The nightmares had become a continuous, unending way of life. It had been over ten years, ten years of torment, pain and remorse. The dreams never changed, they never varied. It was always the same. A huge, monstrous dragon had taken over Camelot. The hideous beast was chasing his fair Guinevere and Arthur felt powerless to help her. He could see her. Guinevere’s long auburn hair flew behind her as she ran across the courtyard. The dragon was in pursuit, breathing flames of fire and ash. Her face covered in soot and blackened ash as the dark burning rain showered down from the advancing dragon of death.

Shackled to the wall on the roof above the courtyard as his beloved Camelot was in flames, Arthur’s castle laid in ruins. The knights of his round table were all dead as death rampaged throughout his once great kingdom. Bodies and destruction were everywhere.

The dragon marched effortlessly towards Guinevere, forcing her into a corner. She had dropped to cower behind a broken burned wagon. The dragon stopped and she could hear his breathing. A mixture of ashes and hot wet rain swirled around her with each haunting breath.

Arthur strained at his ties. He felt them loosen. A few tugs and they released him. He jumped to his feet, out of breath and tired from his imprisonment. As he raced down the steps, he stumbled, catching his tunic on a broken board, scraping his side drawing blood. He winced but moved on. He watched as the dragon stood menacingly over his Guinevere. Arthur would save her. He must. Arthur loved her as no other and he could not live without her.

His hand touched something in the darkness. It was Excalibur, his sword. The sword, which had vanquished so many foes and enemies before stood before him. “Merlin”, he mumbled and looked around expecting to see his old friend. However, Merlin had not appeared.

Arthur picked up the sword and ran to the dragon. He would slay it and that would be that. His Guinevere and his Camelot would be safe. No dragon would end this moment in time.

The bleeding king made his way between the fierce dragon and the sobbing Guinevere. His faced the mighty beast from hell. “Be thrust gone, evil lizard of darkness, you have no claim to this woman.” Arthur brought the sword up and over his head.

The dragon arched its neck and its eyes widened as the sight of this mortal. The dragons’ head seemed to shift, to change, its features melting and turning into grotesque shapes. It had become the face of Lancelot, his friend, his brother knight, his alley.

The dragon/Lancelot brought up his head and reached out over the king. Arthur stood in its looming shadow, he felt so small. He could not believe it was his brother knight, this dragon of death. It was Lancelot, who had fought along side him in battles. The same Lancelot rode all the way from France to swear his allegiance to the king and his kingdom. He was the same Lancelot who committed treason with his passion for his own wife. The deception ended it all by Lancelot who must now die and pay for his sins.

Arthur brought the sword down and sliced into the dragon’s neck. The monster roared and bellowed with the screams of the unearthly. The head of Lancelot now separated from the dragon’s armored body rolled along the bloodied ground. It is now headless neck, writhing in pain and anguish. The eyes in Lancelot’s head turned white and inward. Arthur fell to the ground. He tried to stand but his feet were now sliding into the cobblestone beneath him. Arthur was sinking; no, he was melting into the stones as snow on a fire. First, his feet started to fade, then his legs, now his torso and finally one of his arms. Excalibur, raised in his right hand held high above his head in protest. The stone ground swallowed him up inch by inch. His head sucked into the heavy stones and finally, only his armed right hand remained above. Then it too disappeared. The light of the torches flickered on its’ metal blade and then darkness.

Silence, dark silence with no movement surrounded him. No wind, no presence of any kind. There was a vast void and a stillness that burned his nostrils and sickened his stomach. The hairs on his head were smoldering from the intense heat all about him. He was burning but he was still alive. The smell of burning flesh filled his senses. His pain was that of an evil so great and powerful. It began engulfing him, dragging him to the nothingness that surrounded him and ate away at his body and soul. The inferno of this darkness would take his last breath and with no mercy. He begged to die. His lungs filled with hot dirt and stone, burning with every breath he tried to take. His last thoughts were of Guinevere. Guinevere....” he shouted but who could hear him? His lungs burst with his last murmured breath.

Arthur bolted from his bed screaming in terror. It was that tormenting dream again. The same nightmare repeated itself repeatedly, night after night and year after year. He looked around the room. The glow of the dying fire embers cast an eerie light that bounced on the walls. Shadows of phantoms and demons danced wildly along its walls. His heart was beating loudly and his mouth was parched and dry. His lips were cracked and bloody. He searched for his flask of water. Arthur stood before his table and drank the water, spilling most of it on himself and on his beard that he had grown these past ten years. The water sung his mouth.

Arthur wiped the wet beard and sat on the floor next to the hearth. The soot and ashes disturbed by his quick movement. The fire glowed through the dark recess of the hearth. The crackle of the wood rang loudly in his ears.

“Ten years... ten years. Why Merlin? Why have you abandoned me? Where are you? Where did you go? Why, when I needed you the most? “Arthur cried into his worn robes. The colors faded and the material tattered. He was no more a king of a great land but only a hermit of a dead castle and a leper hiding from all those who still walked its’ halls.

It was morning when he finally fell asleep. He would sleep most of the day as he always did. It seemed safer in the daylight to sleep. The dreams were not so persistent. He could stave them off sometimes. He could hide in the bright light of the day.

The door to Arthur’s room opened slowly. The light from the hall broke across his face. He felt the cool air rush into his room and circled about him, kicking up bits of dirt and dust. The fire had died out completely. The intruder was a servant no doubt, one of the few remaining servants to pledge their undying loyalty to the dying king in his last days. Arthur did not blame the others for leaving. How he wished he could leave this world and find peaceful sleep.

“Sire, are you all right? Could I get you some food and drink?” A small voice asked from behind the stinging light that flooded the doorway. The figure moved into the room and walked over to the large table in the center. The small voice filled the ewer with liquid and put down a platter of food. The smell made Arthur’s stomach turn and growl in disgust.

Arthur rose to his feet pulling his bedclothes around him for warmth. He threw himself down on his bed. The dust of many years flew around him like flies on a dead carcass.

“I will clean your chambers for you, your majesty.” The small voice said. Arthur did not recognize this voice. It was too young for either Dinadan or Sagramore. They were both much older and this voice was that of a child, a boy child, he imagined.

Arthur lifted his head towards the figure. “Who thoust ye be, lad? Are you the servant of death? One, who has come to claim me from this immortal nightmare?”

The voice stepped closer to the ailing king. He now inched his way up next to the bed and in full view of Arthur. It was indeed a lad, a mere boy of about ten or eleven years of age.

“Sire, will you drink this?” The boy offered him a cup of water. “I have been trained sire to serve you. My father, Sire Dinadan has been....”

Arthur sat up hearing of Dinadan’s name. He looked into the boy’s eyes. “Your father... is Sir Dinadan?” Arthur squinted to see him better, his eyesight not accustomed to bright light of the day.

“Yes, Sir Dinadan is my father or really he is my adopted father. I was found by him as a baby.” The boy’s featured were clear to him now. His eyes were blue, the same blue as a summer’s sky. His hair cut to frame his angelic face. The face of an angel, he thought.

“Come closer, boy”, Arthur reached out for him. The boy paused then advanced without fear or reservation. He was brave or at least he appeared so. Arthur touched his face. His features were so gentle and kind. Not unlike the boy, he once was himself so very long ago. “Why are you here? Why have you disturbed my death bed?”

“Forgive me Sire. I only want to help. My father says you were the greatest king in the entire world. I have heard him speak of you many times. I heard of all your battles, triumphs and the stories of the round table and its’ knights. I have trained to be your page, Sire, your servant. I want to pledge myself to you my lord.” With that, the boy knelt and bowed his head in respect, his blond hair tumbling into his face.

Arthur sat in front of the boy and lifted his head with his once mighty hands. He could see all his features clearly now. His eyes, his nose, the rosy cheeks of youth and to his surprise, a single tear had fallen from his eyes. “What is this boy, do I make you ashamed? Do I repulse you so?”

The boy stared at the once noble king. “No Sire, I only want to serve you.” The boy again bowed his head in respect.

Arthur stood before the boy then dropped to his own knees in front of him. “Lift your head my boy, you have nothing to fear.” Arthur realized he must have scared the child with his appearance and manor. He felt disgust for the man he had become. Arthur wiped the boys’ face and brought him to his feet. He looked into his eyes. “You have nothing to fear boy. I am not an ogre, although I must look like one to you. I am just an old feeble man who once was King a long, long time ago.”

“You are the greatest king that has ever reined my Lord!” The boy’s eyes widened with sincerity and awe.

“Your father taught you well. How old are you boy?” Arthur tried to make conversation and calm the lad.

“I am ten, your majesty. My parents, Lady Anne and Sir Dinadan have raised me as their own since I was found abandoned.”

Arthur was amazed of his articulate nature. His voice, so clear and pure. He had once been like this boy. He was so full of wonder and life. Now he was an empty shell. The king, the man, the boy he once was, was no more. “What is your name?”

The boy backed up and straightened his stand. “My name is Tomelac. It was the name given to me by my birth mother.”

“How unusual it is, lad. Nevertheless, a fine proud name it is. Tolemac, why do you want to serve me?” Arthur walked over to the door and shut it. The boy turned and swallowed hard.

“Do you wish me to stay sire? I could help you get dressed. I could polish your boots. I could...” Arthur pressed his finger to the boy’s lips. The taste of unwashed fingers made Tolemac retreat a little.

“Oh, I am sorry lad. The problem with being a hermit is that you forget to wash sometimes.” Arthur looked into a wardrobe mirror. The sight of him even made Arthur grimace with distaste. “Well, a lot of times, I must say. Perhaps I should eat and drink a little.” Arthur sat at the table. Tolemac began to serve him a meal complete with fresh water and fruit. Something Arthur had not seen or eaten in many years it seemed.

Arthur picked up an apple and bit into it. The taste hurt his mouth as well as aroused his senses. How long had it been since he tasted this treat? “Your father...how is he?” Arthur took a sip of water.

“My father is dead sire, and my mother also. They have been dead for almost a year now. They were victims of the black plague. I had already entered into the apprenticeship of pages just before they died.” Tolemac’s eyes now again filled with tears but not of fear but of sorrow. Arthur realized that this boy was alone now as he was. No one to love or be loved by. His heart that had been broken for these last ten years was now breaking again.

Tolemac cleared the platter that by now Arthur had consumed as well as the ewer of fresh water. He walked to the other side of the table. “Will that be all, Sire?”

“Yes, that was a fine feast. Thank you, lad. Now go and leave me to rest. I have spent far too much time away from my death bed.”

“Sire, you are not dying.” The boy said quickly.

“What? Do you argue the point with the king? Do you not see the disintegration of what was once a man before your very own eyes?” Arthur was truly surprised at this boy.

Tolemac went to the door. “I am sorry, your majesty. I have always believed you to be just resting...for your return to the thrown.”

Arthur was very surprised with this last statement, my return to the throne after all these years. And how do you know I intend to return to the thrown?”

“My father had always said you would return as soon as you have rested. He said you were weary from your battles and that your strength would return and you would regain your thrown.” The boy backed his way to the door, fearing he had said too much already.

“And what else did he say...?” The boy stood mute. “What else did your father say? Answer me boy!”

Tolemac took a deep breath and started to speak. “My father said you would return again in ten years time. He said that you would know when that time was. You would have a sign from Merlin, the sorcerer. He dreamed of this many times.”

“Dreamed of this? Signs from Merlin?” Arthur was now intrigued beyond his own thoughts. He had spoken of Merlin, his friend, his teacher. Could he have knowledge of Merlin? “What sign, tell me!”

Tolemac looked into the king’s eyes. “He said you would see your own reflection and then return to the thrown and bring Camelot back to its’ rightful place.” He then turned and backed out the door bowing his head. The door closed behind him, leaving Arthur to stare into the darkness again.

“What does he mean? My own reflection?” Arthur went back to the mirror. Arthur looked at himself again after wiping away cobwebs and dirt. He could see himself now, as he truly was, an old man, his face now weathered and lined. It would not be with lines of wisdom but that of despair and torment.

Arthur looked again for a while, searching out each new line, examining each wrinkle. His beard, peppered with an assortment of gray and white was also long and disheveled. He once had hair of deep chestnut. Now streaked with patches of white and gray. His features were distorted and drawn and the only thing, which he could recognize, was his eyes. His eyes were still the blue of a summer’s day.


Chapter 2

It had been several days since his first meeting with Tolemac and Arthur had started to look forward to his daily visits. Although they were still getting to know each other, he was able to feel comfortable with the boy.

Tolemac had cleared most of the room the day before and even opened the windows that sealed shut years before. He aired out the king’s refuge of the last ten years. He had swept up so much dust and dirt you could now see the floor and the hint of color of the carpets that Arthur once had artisans make for his beloved queen.

Arthur had even taken a bath last night. He felt pounds lighter and this morning he even attempted to trim his beard with an old pair of rusty shears. He looked at himself in the mirror. “Still, an old fool.” He said to himself.

Why had he taken on this challenge of bathing and cleaning? Why had he gone to so much trouble and bother? There was not anyone he wanted to impress. He did not want to see anyone in particular. Well, that was not the absolute truth. Arthur had indeed been waiting for someone. It was Tolemac. He had grown accustomed, no actually; he had grown almost fond of the boy. His daily visits would make his day more bearable. He had even eaten more than he had in months. Tolemac had seen to that. He was sleeping better than he could remember when.

Arthur looked around his room. His clothes had all been picked up and either cleaned or put away. The tables and chairs were uncluttered. The bedclothes were changed and his room that had been so dark and disorderly was now light and organized.

Tolemac had gotten the guards to move the king’s bed and reposition it in the center of the room instead of the dark corner where Arthur had moved it years before. The windows washed and reset so that there were no more drafts. The hearth that held mountains of ashes from countless fires were washed and the old ashes carted away.

Arthur picked up a book that was on the table. He examined it. It was an old book of stories. “Perhaps Tolemac would enjoy this book. He has worked so hard. He should not neglect his studies.” The book was old and worn. Arthur had read it many times since he was a boy. It was a favorite. There were stories of heroes and gods and quests for justice. Arthur paged through the book. There was an etching printed of a young lad fighting against a fierce and powerful dragon. He thought of his dragon. Tis’ was the one who came to him so many times in his sleep.

The door opened. Arthur put down the book and turned around expecting to see Tolemac. The door closed and his eyes fixed on a figure that was too tall to be that of the boy.

“Who enters my room?” He asked. The figure was dressed in black and it was hard for Arthur to make out whom it was. “I asked you, who are you?” Again, silence. Arthur walked over to the table and picked up his cloak.

“You have entered the private chambers of the king. Speak now or prepare to be discharged with force.” The figure moved slowly, almost floating along the wall and stopped just feet from Arthur.

Arthur’s heart raced. Could this be an intruder who means him harm? How could anyone pass by the guards? “You leave me no choice.” Arthur pulled out a dagger that hid under his cloak. He advanced towards the shadowy figure and brought his hand up to strike at it. The figure backed up and Arthur followed. The closer Arthur neared it, the further it would retreat. He may not have respect for the king’s privacy but it did fear weapons.

The figure backed into a corner. There was no place else to escape. It was trapped. Arthur was pleased it took that course and it was now at his mercy. Arthur closed in on the figure. He could see its’ face now. There was an old black cloak covering it’s’ body. He was hunched over in an attempt to avoid light, and, of course, his dagger.

“I say speak intruder! Who are you? I command you to state your reason for this violation of my chamber.” With that, the figure stood up from its’ bent position. What was only a hunched over shadow had now grown to the height of Arthur himself. The figure turned to face Arthur. His hand slid out from under its’ cloak. It was old and gnarled. More bone than flesh.

Arthur again asked, “Who are you?” The figure, now standing fully erect turned to face Arthur. His head now almost in full view. The room grew dark all around him. His sense of time and space seemed to melt away from him.

The figure brought his hand up to his cloaked head and pulled away at it exposing his face slowly. Arthur stared in disbelief. “Could it be?” Arthur leaned on the table for support, his knees weakened with age and disuse now completely gave way to the force of the earth below him. His strength to stand was taken from him. He sank to his knees. Still holding on the table for support, he braced himself to see the cloaked figure more clearly. His head was uncovered now. His face and features, although old and twisted were familiar to him, though somewhat, strangely distant. He knew this man, he thought. Somewhere, he knew him. He was older but there was no doubt in his mind.

It was Merlin!…

This was the last thing Arthur remembered before falling into a deep sleep. One who would take him to a place so far and yet so near?

Arthur’s body floated around in a mist of some unknown origin. His sense of time was distorted. He strained to see his surroundings but it was difficult. His mind and body were disconnected. His thoughts and senses were not together, as they should be. He was asleep and yet aware of something.

After several minutes or what he thought were several minutes, Arthur felt himself seated on the ground. The ground of what he did not know. The mist, now bathed him in an eerie glow of emerald light. It started to dissipate and clear gradually.

Arthur could see his hands now. He could see them but there was not any feeling of any kind in them. Just cold, unfeeling cold. However, not the stinging frigid cold he knew of in his own world. This was different.

The mist swirled and spun, clearing more area, making his surroundings more visible. He was in a strange place, a cave or an underground cavern. Arthur could see rocks and walls of earth with what appeared to be passageways. The emerald green light was now intensifying. He could stand now. Arthur steadied himself against a wall of rock and looked around. He was definitely underneath the surface of the land. The emerald green light emitted from the rocks themselves, glowing and showering everything with its unfeeling rays of light.

Suddenly, Arthur noticed some movement to his side. He turned and tried to make out what it was. A demon perhaps? A beast of the dark that has stalked him? Could this be death? Could this be eternity in hell? Arthur searched his mind struggling for answers.

The movement continued. Arthur saw what it was. It was the cloaked figure from his room. He could remember that he somehow knew it. Nevertheless, how? He walked to it and stood before it. The figure dropped its’ cloak. Arthur remembered now. It was Merlin!

“How can this be? How are you to be here and I with you? Is this a dream?” Arthur wanted to embrace his friend and yet he was afraid. It was Merlin, although much older and more slight of stature.

Merlin held out a withered arm. There was something in his hand. Arthur reached for it fearing the image would vanish before his eyes and he would awaken from yet another nightmare. However, this one seemed different. No dragons, no Guinevere and no Lancelot. Only Merlin.

Arthur took what was a small cloth bag from Merlin’s hand. He was about to speak to Merlin again. This time to demand answers and before his eyes, the emerald green light that was around him started to merge into a small whirlpool.

Merlin was in the open with the green light encircling him, through him as well as around him. Merlin’s appearance started to change. His emaciated body took fuller form and his flesh started to fill out. His wrinkled features became less so. His face became more human, more recognizable.

The light glowed all around Merlin. He was now as Arthur last saw him, ten years ago, his teacher and his friend. Merlin was here before him...alive!

“Arthur, I have come from far away to warn you as I should have done many years ago. I have little time to speak.” This was Merlin’s voice. He knew it. There was no mistake. “You are in great peril as is your Camelot. I am sorry that I was not there for you to warn you years ago of Lancelot and Guinevere. Nimue had taken me away. She has kept me prisoner all these years.”

Arthur was in shock. “Merlin, what are you speaking of? What kind of sorcery is this? What peril? Where have you been? I don’t know....”

Merlin interrupted, “I have little time Wart. Now listen and listen carefully.”

Arthur recognized his childhood name. “What peril am I in? My kingdom is in ruins, my wife is gone and Lancelot has killed our bond with his lust for my wife.”

“There was not anything I could do to stop it. What is gone is still gone. Lancelot is still your brother knight and Guinevere, you true and only love. Many years have passed but now an evil has come back to take what is left.”

“There is nothing left. I am old and close to death. Guinevere is gone. She disappeared into the night. Lancelot is dead for all I know. What else could possibly happen?” Arthur struggled with his question.

“You must prepare yourself for battle. Not a battle of which you have fought before but one that is not only for your sake but also that of your son.” Arthur stood back in disbelief.

“What son? What do you speak of Merlin?” Arthur was confused at this announcement.


“Guinevere was always your true love. She was only under a spell cast by Morgan Le fey. She knew not what she was doing or of Lancelot for that matter. They both were bewitched by the evilest of shrews. Take heed Arthur. You must find you son.” Again, Merlin had spoken of a son.

“Bewitched? My son? What are you saying Merlin? I have a son of my own? My son? How can this be?” Arthur sat on a large stone.

Merlin walked closer and handed Arthur a disk of gold. “Take this. This will help you find your son. You must find him and protect him. Great evil is about to spread throughout your kingdom.”

“But, how and where am I to look? Is he with Guinevere?” Merlin shook his head no.

“No, the boy was given away when his mother gave him birth. She felt disgraced thinking it was not your child but that of Lancelot’s. No one knew of the boy child except for a few. They swore to secrecy. Guinevere gave him up so that both you and Lancelot would be spared anymore pain.” Merlin backed away as he spoke.

“But where is he? How old is he? Is he well? What is his name?” Arthur pleaded with Merlin for more information.

Merlin’s image started to fade. “My time is short. Take the golden disk and the cloth bag. You will find what you need and you will know when to use it. Forgive your Guinevere and Lancelot. They love you as you truly love them.”

“Merlin, there are so many questions. I cannot understand what is happening. Merlin, I want...” Merlin had now faded completely. Arthur felt the cold closing in on him again. He fell to the floor. Weakened again by the cold, his head slowly dropped to the ground. His body was now floating upward and then darkness again.


Chapter 3

Tolemac had entered Arthur’s room. He had been coming to visit the king and help everyday for several weeks now. The king seemed pleased to see him when he arrived everyday.

The king was asleep in his bed. Tolemac thought he looked as if he were resting well. He closed the door behind him quietly as to not disturb the sleeping monarch. He went about readying the king’s garments.

The room looked different today. Maybe it was more light from the windows as they have been cleaned or was it the missing the cloud of dust and cobwebs that were now gone? However, there was something different. Tolemac could feel it. He just could not explain why.

Arthur turned in his sleep that had startled Tolemac. He turned to see that the king had now sat upright in his bed. However, his eyes closed tightly.

“Sire, let me help you.” Tolemac went to the king’s side and was just about to assist him. With an abrupt jerk, the king screamed in anguish. His head rolled back, he fell down onto his pillows, his back arched in spasms, and his eyes shut.

Tolemac tried to shake Arthur awake but the king did not respond to his touch. His eyes opened. They were glassy and he had a far away, fearful look.

Shaking with fear, Tolemac backed away from the bed. His eyes still fixed on the king; he stepped backwards from him, passing a table and the book that Arthur was to have given him today. The book fell off the table as Tolemac passed by, his arm knocking it off as he passed. Its’ pages flew open as it landed on the floor.

Arthur screamed again. Tolemac’s heart raced. Surely, the king was in need of help. It was far more than he was able to provide.

Tolemac retreated further away from the bed and turned over a ewer of water. The metal, making a hollow noise as it hit the floor. The water had started to soak into the carpet.

The boy started to cry, as he was afraid his king was dying before him. He did not know what to do. He turned to run to the door. Tolemac ran and collided into a man. He had not noticed him standing there.

Startled and crying, Tolemac fought to escape as the man grabbed and held him.

“Well, what do we have here?” the man asked. “You are all alone and the old fool king is throwing a nasty fit.”

Tolemac was terrified now. Would they blame him for the king’s illness? He tried to break free from the man’s grasp. The man was strong and held him firmly.

“Let me go! Let me go! I must find help for the king!” Tolemac pulled with all his might. The man was not about to release the boy. After all, he had come here just to find this boy. The one they call Tolemac.

“You best are quiet lad or your fate will be sealed with this dagger.” The man held a shiny blade up for Tolemac to see. The light fell upon its gleaming blade of steel. His eyes widened at the sight of the sharp weapon.

The man pulled Tolemac by his hair and sat him down forcibly on a chair. Tolemac cried aloud from the pain but sat as ordered. He rubbed his scalp where the man pulled him.

“What do you want? Who are you? I must find help for the king. He is ill!” Tolemac began to get up and the man’s gloved hand came down on him and with one forceful strike, Tolemac, rendered unconscious, fell to the floor.

“There’s much fight in you, that’s good and that’s…bad. You are not as I have thought you to be. The boy was far too frail a creature for a future king.” Tolemac stirred as he lay in a heap on the floor.

The man bent over the fallen boy and examined him closely. He took off his gloves and with his hand; he followed the boy’s features, touching his hair, his eyes, his nose and mouth. He ran his fingers over his cheeks. “He was so full of life, so much youth. But not for long.”

The man stood up and walked over to the bed. He grabbed Arthur’s hand and pulled off his ring. He tried to pry open his other hand but it would not open. He then touched Arthur’s closed eyes, grinning.

“So Arthur, we meet again after all these years. I would like to say that you are looking well and fit but that does not seem to be quite true. You have not fared well at all. Your queen and the treasonous friend of yours have weakened you but not enough to kill you. I have waited all these years for you to die and here you are, still alive.” The man bent over Arthur’s face.

“You see Arthur, I am back. It is I, Mordred. Are you surprised?” Mordred smiled as he realized he was really speaking only to himself as Arthur was in a deep sleep.

“Where are you? Oh, King Arthur, great ruler of Camelot, where, oh where has your little king gone? Mordred let out a laugh. He had waited a long time for this revenge and he intended to savor it. To enjoy every moment of it.

“You see the boy, Arthur?” Mordred turned towards the unmoving Tolemac. Mordred grabbed Arthur’s face and turned it so he would face the boy, as if he were awake. The king did not respond.

“What a shame, what a dirty little shame. I came all this way and you, not even civil enough to be awake when I arrive. How rude of you dear brother. Not even a simple ’How do you do.’”

Mordred let the king’s head fall back onto the bed. Arthur groaned from pain, a far away pain. Mordred smiled.

“Those nightmares still haunt you, Arthur? The big evil dragon draped menacingly around the old drafty castle looking for a meal? Perhaps your good wife would do. Oh, excuse me; she has gone, is she not? Left you for that fool Lancelot. Hahaha. What a waste, all this fun and you not awake to enjoy it with me.” Mordred went over to the boy.

“You see Arthur, I have recently found out something that even my dear departed mother didn’t know. And from what I can tell, you don’t either.” Mordred let out another laugh. “This boy...this page...your squire, how absurd!”

Mordred stepped over the boy and went to the table. He noticed the book on the floor. Its pages wet with water. “What’s this? You have been reading late at night Arthur. It is not good for your eyes. You could go blind from the strain. Then again, who cares? Certainly, it is not I! Hahaha.”

Mordred put the book on the bed near Arthur’s legs. “How stupid of you dear brother to not know what is even going on right under you very nose. Then, you did not even know your own wife and that French excuse for a knight were making you look the fool. That was Mother’s touch you see. She was always so very good at potions, spells, and that sort of thing. I always wondered if they ever knew it was her potion controlling their desires. Then again, who cares? No need to dwell on the past, right dear brother?”

Arthur moaned again. “Oh, did I say something to upset you? Oh well, I meant it!” Mordred took the book and ripped the pages out, letting them fall on Arthur. The pages went flying about. He threw the leather cover into the fire.

“That is what I think of you. You should burn for all eternity! My mother died because of you. She fell ill and wasted away longing for you. Her beauty and powers withered because of you! The life taken from her by you!”

Tolemac opened his eyes. For a moment, he did not remember where he was. His eyes focused on the man standing by the king’s bed. Tolemac lifted his head to see better, the pain reeling from the man’s sudden attack. He did not recognize this man. He struggled to pull himself to his feet.

The door was on the other side of the chamber. Tolemac had only one chance to escape, he thought. The man was laughing and speaking to Arthur. Not really, to him but rather at him, he feared the king was dead.

Tolemac turned towards the door and positioned himself for it. It was now or never. He stood and took a step...the man saw him and seized him even before he could advance one unsteady step.
“Put me down! Let me go! The king will punish you!” Tolemac thrashed about but Mordred held him tightly.

“You waste your strength boy, but it does not matter. You will be dead soon, along with....” Mordred turned to the king. “Along with your father.”

Mordred quickly fled the room with the boy held firmly under control. Tolemac tried to scream but his mouth was covered with the man’s leathered glove’s taste.

Mordred opened the door and disappeared into the castle’s dark corridors. The unconscious king asleep on the bed and his boy, his only son stolen from him, and gone from his life once more.

The room was now still. The air started to cool and a draft had picked up. It circled the room, scattering papers and clothing as it swirled repeatedly. A green light started to glow. A fine mist appeared from nowhere. The glowing green light spew its’ rays outward across the room.

The strange green mist swirled around and finally centered on Arthur. The coldness of the mist made the sleeping king’s body quiver with it’s’ touch. The light grew more intense and became a bright ball of light. It hovered over the bed taking on strength and magnifying as time passed by. A shrill cry echoed throughout the castle. Guards and servants stopped in their tracks, hearing the unearthly sound rip through the air.

The ball of light now filled the room. A shape started to form from inside it. A man’s shape appeared slowly. It was becoming more solid. It was Merlin. He floated above Arthur’s bed. He looked around the room.

“It has started, Arthur. You must save the boy.” The light that engulfed Merlin now poured its rays through the windows of the room, which were flung opened with a great force. The light filled the early morning countryside with its’ eerie glow.

Then it was gone. As fast as it had appeared, it had disappeared. Both the light and Merlin vanished. Arthur moved in his bed, still asleep. Tolemac and Mordred were gone. A lone wolf howled in the distance. It was now dusk. Time had moved on. Night had become day.

A servant entered the kings’ chambers. She had brought the king and the boy something to eat. They were spending so much time together and often forgot to stop and eat. She moved to the table. The room was dark except for a fire in the hearth. She noticed the boy was not there and the king was sitting in his chair near the dying fire.

Carefully placing the platter on the table, she went over to the king to ask if he needed something. She noticed his hand dangling from the side.

“Poor dear, must have fallen asleep while reading.” She went to wake the king. As she neared him, she noticed something so terrible it caused her to scream. Her cry was heard throughout the castle. Alerted guards and servants turned towards the scream.

Arthur was sitting upright in his chair. He had the bedclothes around him. It was wet from his sweat. Arthur was breathing but it was slow and labored. His hair was matted and his face ashen.

His face startled her so. From his eyes, it was if he had been crying tears of blood!


Chapter 4

The bells from the abbey rang out their morning call for devotion. Everyone had been awake and working for hours already. Several nuns had been gathering vegetables from the common garden they all planted and tended. There were sisters washing and cleaning the chapel. Three young novices were reciting prayers according to their devotional duty. One never forgot their chores or their prayers or they would answer to the Mother Abbess.

The abbey, tucked away in the rocky northern part of Wales, was far from the English countryside and any village or town for that matter. Its’ remoteness made it possible for the sisters to devote all their time and attention to prayers and the tending of the convent.

Young women from all over the country as well as neighboring states have entered these walls to devote their life to God and His glory. Not everyone was accepted. The candidate had to pass several test to be sure they were entering for the proper reasons and of their own desires.

Candidates who did not pass these tests were scattered back to the world from which they came in disgrace. They would return to the abbey when they were truly ready and accepting of God’s laws and His plans.

Today, a young novice, who had come here from France and counseled as to her true intentions for entering the nunnery, her name was Elizabeth. She was from the south of France, a small coastal town where the people were proud and hard workers. Her parents had hoped for her to enter the convent, therefore relieving themselves of an extra mouth to feed and to ensure their blessings from God in Heaven.

Elizabeth was just sixteen. She was a small girl, dark hair and dark eyes. Her skin was white and without imperfections. She was the daughter of a farmer. There were seven other children still at home, mostly boys. Elizabeth, being slight was not much help around the farm. She was often sickly and needed tending to. Her parents decided to send her to the abbey when war broke out amidst their countryside. The boys were able to defend their land but they sent the younger children to relatives and Elizabeth to the abbey.

Mother Abbess had found out much about Elizabeth during her stay here. She was a sweet child, very eager to serve and very polite and respectful. Her only real problem it seemed was that she did not always honor the sister’s vows of silence. That is to speak only during certain times of the day and only in prayer and chore related matters.

“I have watched you for some time, Elizabeth. You miss your family I know but do you believe in your heart that this is your true calling?” Mother Abbess paced along the wall of windows in the room. The furniture was sparse but functional. Two chairs, a table and a small alter for prayer.

Elizabeth sat quietly looking out the window. It was a beautiful day. It had been raining so much these last weeks but now it was all clear and sunny. Mother Abbess continued to speak. “All of us here at the abbey, Elizabeth, have certain rules that we follow, certain laws we must obey. It has come to my attention that you cannot follow the rule of silence”. The Abbess returned to her chair. “Do you wish to continue to stay here, my child?” She asked, “It is not what your parents expect Elizabeth but what God expects. He expects you to be honest and true. You must search your heart and find the answers. There are no locks here. We are all free to stay or to leave but the choice must be made clearly and without reservation.” The Abbess took windows of the room, which were flung, and opened with a great force. The light filled the early morning countryside with its’ eerie glow.

Then it was gone. As fast as it had appeared, it had disappeared. Both the light and Merlin vanished. Arthur moved in his bed, still asleep. Tolemac and Mordred were gone. A lone wolf howled in the distance. It was now dusk. Time had moved on. Night had become day.

A servant entered the kings’ chambers. She had brought the king and the boy something to eat. They were spending so much time together and often forgot to stop and eat. She moved to the table. The room was dark except for a fire in the hearth. She noticed the boy was not there and the king was sitting in his chair near the dying fire.

Carefully placing the platter on the table, she went over to the king to ask if he needed something. She noticed his hand dangling from the side.

“Poor dear, must have fallen asleep while reading.” She went to wake the king. As she neared him, she noticed something so terrible it caused her to scream. Her cry was heard throughout the castle. Alerted guards and servants turned towards the scream.

Arthur was sitting upright in his chair. He had the bedclothes around him. It was wet from his sweat. Arthur was breathing but it was slow and labored. His hair was matted and his face ashen.

His face startled her so. From his eyes, it was if he had been crying tears of blood!


Chapter 4

The bells from the abbey rang out their morning call for devotion. Everyone had been awake and working for hours already. Several nuns had been gathering vegetables from the common garden they all planted and tended. There were sisters washing and cleaning the chapel. Three young novices were reciting prayers according to their devotional duty. One never forgot their chores or their prayers or they would answer to the Mother Abbess.

The abbey, tucked away in the rocky northern part of Wales, was far from the English countryside and any village or town for that matter. Its’ remoteness made it possible for the sisters to devote all their time and attention to prayers and the tending of the convent.

Young women from all over the country as well as neighboring states have entered these walls to devote their life to God and His glory. Not everyone was accepted. The candidate had to pass several test to be sure they were entering for the proper reasons and of their own desires.

Candidates who did not pass these tests were scattered back to the world from which they came in disgrace. They would return to the abbey when they were truly ready and accepting of God’s laws and His plans.

Today, a young novice, who had come here from France and counseled as to her true intentions for entering the nunnery, her name was Elizabeth. She was from the south of France, a small coastal town where the people were proud and hard workers. Her parents had hoped for her to enter the convent, therefore relieving themselves of an extra mouth to feed and to ensure their blessings from God in Heaven.
Elizabeth was just sixteen. She was a small girl, dark hair and dark eyes. Her skin was white and without imperfections. She was the daughter of a farmer. There were seven other children still at home, mostly boys. Elizabeth, being slight was not much help around the farm. She was often sickly and needed tending to. Her parents decided to send her to the abbey when war broke out amidst their countryside. The boys were able to defend their land but they sent the younger children to relatives and Elizabeth to the abbey.

Mother Abbess had found out much about Elizabeth during her stay here. She was a sweet child, very eager to serve and very polite and respectful. Her only real problem it seemed was that she did not always honor the sister’s vows of silence. That is to speak only during certain times of the day and only in prayer and chore related matters.

“I have watched you for some time, Elizabeth. You miss your family I know but do you believe in your heart that this is your true calling?” Mother Abbess paced along the wall of windows in the room. The furniture was sparse but functional. Two chairs, a table and a small alter for prayer.

Elizabeth sat quietly looking out the window. It was a beautiful day. It had been raining so much these last weeks but now it was all clear and sunny. Mother Abbess continued to speak. “All of us here at the abbey, Elizabeth, have certain rules that we follow, certain laws we must obey. It has come to my attention that you cannot follow the rule of silence”. The Abbess returned to her chair. “Do you wish to continue to stay here, my child?” She asked, “It is not what your parents expect Elizabeth but what God expects. He expects you to be honest and true. You must search your heart and find the answers. There are no locks here. We are all free to stay or to leave but the choice must be made clearly and without reservation.” The Abbess took Elizabeth’s hands in hers. “There was a time when I had entered the convent life, when I wasn’t sure of what I wanted. I had made a mistake and at first, I found safety behind these walls. These stoned walls sealed and protected me from the dangers of the world. Eventually I found myself in God and gave my life to Him and His ways.”

Elizabeth studied the Abbess’ face. She was very pretty, she thought. She must have been even more beautiful before she entered the convent. “Mother, I too seek shelter and protection but I also seek the Lord and His plans for me.”

Mother Abbess smiled at Elizabeth. She had hoped she would find a common ground with this child. It had only been ten years since she entered these same walls. She too was just little more than a child herself. She had made an unfortunate choice and had to pay a terrible price for her sins. The last ten years spent in prayer and service to the Lord. She had felt she had paid dearly for her sins and was now a true child of God.

“I must say, you remind me of myself when I was your age.” The Abbess smiled again.

The Abbess remembered her first days at the convent. She spent long hours in prayer and repentance. It was years before she could forgive herself, let alone God forgive her, she thought.

“I will try to be a better novice, Mother. I promise.” Elizabeth grabbed the Abbess’ hands and held them to her face.

“Now Elizabeth, all God wants from you is your unconditional love and devotion. To many it is difficult, to some, it is impossible and to others, it is a way of life. Do you understand me?” Mother Abbess stood before Elizabeth bringing her to stand also.

“Now go and finish your chores, my child. Keep your vows and pray for strength and guidance.” Mother Abbess opened the door and ushered out the young novice.

“Thank you, Mother Abbess, I will try harder.” Elizabeth bowed her head in respect and left the room. Mother Abbess walked over to the window.

“Oh, Elizabeth, if it were that simple, to try to do our best.” Mother Abbess went back to the door and out into the corridor. She passed several sisters on her way, acknowledging them with a nod or a smile. Sister Anne and Sister Helena were scrubbing the stone steps as she passed the chapel. She passed the kitchen and the storerooms. The sister’s cells were all located in the lower part of the convent. Mother Abbess’ cell was there also. All the sister’s cells were the same. There were not any privileged sisters here. They were all equal in the eyes of God.

Finally, Mother Abbess arrived at her cell. They all looked the same but she knew this was hers as it had been so the last ten years.

Opening the heavy door, she went inside and sat on her small bed. Looking around the room, she thought of the world she had come from. The riches and luxuries were greater than most of these nuns and novices had ever seen or even dreamed. Her life complete with many privileges, young girls like Elizabeth had only heard of in stories.

Mother Abbess stood looking out the small window in the stoned wall. It was very small but enough to see the land outside. The rolling hills and trees covered the grounds in all directions. It had reminded her of her home in England, her family and of her husband.

The abbey bells announced their evening prayers. The sisters had all retired to their cells for the night. Mother Abbess felt relieved this day was over. There was so much to do. Three elderly sisters were very ill and they needed constant attention. A milk cow had developed a sore on its’ leg and it had to be treated with much care. The potato field infested with a strange insect, one that ate the leaves thus depriving nourishment to the crop.

The Abbess removed her wimple, allowing her hair to fall from its cap. It was short now, much shorter than she had worn it as a young girl. However, its’ color was the same, a deep rich auburn that sparkled with the light of the sun.

She had worn her hair very long then. It was curly and her husband had loved the way it fell on her shoulders. He always commented on it. When she became a novitiate, she had it cut, as it was what all nuns did when they entered. They did away with all their earthly belongings and reminders. Their life was now God’s and a full head of hair would only get in the way.

The final bells sounded off. The Abbess had changed into her sleeping gown. It was a plain simple white linen gown with no frills or lace. Sometimes she missed her old clothes. They were all very beautiful and composed from the finest silks and cloth from around the world.

She sometimes even wondered what she looked like now. It was not pious to be vain but still she could not help think of how she had changed all these years. When she was down by the stream where they collected fresh water for cooking and cleaning, she would catch a glimpse of her reflection in the water as it was often rippled and not tranquil enough to gain any perspective.

She had been the Mother Abbess now for almost two years. She was young but a severe winter and illness killed almost half of the convent nuns leaving the young more able to take over the task when the elderly Mother Abbess died of sickness.

The convent council of nuns, who administrated the daily affairs of upkeep, voted her to replace the deceased sister. Her hard work and dedication along with her pious and repentant nature made her an obvious choice of leader.

Sometimes she had wondered had she not accepted but then who dares to defy God and His infinite wisdom and judgment? Her quest to enter the convent and being a child and servant of God, had taken the position with humbleness.

The last rays of the sun had fallen below the mountains in the distance. The Abbess stared at the stars that began to appear. She looked at her wimple and clothing which were neatly folded on her chair. She looked around her cell and of the sparse furnishings. How odd it felt to her and yet how comfortable. Even her name or what she was to be called, Mother Abbess of the Sisters of Serenity was peaceful and tranquil. She whispered her name she which was given at birth. It felt strange but made her smile. Again, she said it this time louder. “Guinevere”.


Chapter 5

Arthur could hear people around him. However, he could not see them. They were speaking about him. Arthur tried to move, to open his eyes. His limbs were useless. He could not move anything or feel anything.

He heard several servants scurrying about the room. He knew he was in his chambers. He could sense that. He was in his bed and someone was attending to him, making him comfortable or so tried.

“What is this? Why can’t I move?” Arthur panicked and with all his strength tried to move something, anything. He wished he could see what was going on around him. He felt dizzy and lightheaded.

A servant was washing his forehead with a wet cloth. He could feel the water trickle down his face. It felt cool. He must have a fever. He must be ill. They were nursing him. That is what they were doing.

Arthur could feel his body, not in the sense that he felt movement but that he had form and shape. He could sense he was clean and dressed in a gown and propped up in his bed. His arms crossed over his chest as if lying in state. He could feel he was clean-shaven. The breeze from the open windows fell across his face.

One of the servants had come closer to look at him. He could fell her breath on his face. He could hear her breathing. “The poor man, I wish there was more I could do for him. He took my family in after our village burned down when I was just a girl.” The servant brushed some stray hair off Arthur’s forehead.

“I feel that! I can feel that! Someone help me!” Arthur thought his heart would burst from this frustration.

The servant again sponged his forehead with a damp cloth. “I wonder how long he will survive. It’s been two days since we found him.” The servant spoke to another in the room.

“He’s bewitched, I say. The way that they found him and all, I say he has been bewitched!” A guard had just entered into the room. He had been standing outside the whole night keeping watch over the dying king.

Arthur realized he was alive but for all they knew, he was dying. He had to speak to them. To let them know he was alive. He commanded all his strength and abilities and tried to move anything.

The servant gasped in horror. “Look, he’s opened his eyes!”

“There, I have made them notice. They will see me now. Why can’t I see them? Where are you? Someone help me!” There was something wrong. He had opened his eyes. He could feel them open, but he did not see anything.

“His eyes, look, they’re open. See if he is awake”, the servant said.

The guard brought his face closer to the king. “He is breathing but still as shallow as before.”

“Open the window, let more light in, maybe it will do something.” The guard opened the window letting in the afternoon sunshine.

Arthur could feel the warm sun on his face. He could feel it on his eyes. They were open. “But why can I not see?” Arthur used every ounce of strength but nothing moved and he could feel his eyelids open but he was blind!

“We must send for someone.” The girl said to the guard.

“All the knights are gone. There are just a few servants and guards left. We have no other place to go.” The guard spoke the truth.

The castle was almost deserted. The knight’s of the round table either been killed or had disappeared these last ten years. There were no more knights to stand alongside Arthur.

Arthur knew this. He had sent the few remaining knights off to search for Lancelot. They never returned. They either died in battle or have deserted him. “So this is what death is to be for me.”

The servant touched the king’s cheek. Arthur could feel that. If only he could make her realize he was still here, still able to hear her and feel her touch.

“What’s with his hand?’ The guard noticed something odd. His hands were swollen and had been bruised. He went over to get a closer look.

“No one knows for certain. When we found him, he had blood streaming from his eyes and his hand was scratched and bloody also and clenched tightly. It was if he was in a battle.”

“Battle? Yes, a battle, a battle with evil.” Arthur remembered his visit with the figure. The figure had turned out to be Merlin. He had spoken with him. He was under the power of a shrew and had come to warn him... Merlin! My God! You told me about a son. You said I have a son!” Arthur could feel the disk in his closed hand grow warmer.

“This is what you gave me Merlin. The disk. You said I was to use it to save the boy. Nevertheless, where is he? How can I find him when I can’t even move or see?” The disk became hotter and hotter and it felt as though it would burn his hand.

“Look, the king’s hand.” The servant and guard noticed light shinning through the clenched hand of the king. “What is it?” The guard tried to touch the disk.

“Aaahhh”, he cried out. The glowing disk was not only hot but it burned his fingers as he touched Arthur’s hand. But how could that be? The kings’ hand, although unmoving had no burns of any kind.

“We must find help. We must find someone who can help the king. Surely, King Arthur is under a spell!” The guard looked at the servant and back to Arthur. The servant wrapped the guards’ hand in a wet cloth.

“There, they will help me now. They must!” Arthur could feel the disk warm in his hand. It pulsated and its’ warmth radiated throughout his body. It filled it with an intense heat although was not an unpleasant one.

“Something is happening to the king. Quick, summon help. We must find someone to help him”. The guard ushered out the servant. He went back to Arthur. The disk had become brighter now and it was if its heat had traveled throughout Arthur’s body.

The guard was terrified. He ran from the room in search of help. Arthur was alone now. He felt the empty room. The disk’s heat felt good. His body was reacting to it.

He could feel the sensation. Maybe he could move. The more he tried, the more frustrated he became. “Merlin, help me! Where are you?”

The heat from the disk had built up and was now flowing freely through every part of his body. Something was happening in his room, he could sense it. The warmth of the disk competed with a sudden coolness in the surrounding air. The room was growing colder.

“What is happening? I must get up. I must find my son!” Arthur felt a presence near him. Was it the guard and servant back with help? He heard no one speak. Someone was there with him but it was not the guard or servant.

Arthur felt helpless and vulnerable. “Who is there?” Arthur suddenly realized he could speak. He had heard his own voice ask a question. “Who is there, answer me!”

Arthur did not hear a response. He was sure he was speaking now aloud and he was sure he could hear. His throat ached with every wood spoken. He could make out the sound of shuffling and movement. However, he was still blind.

“Tell me, who is there? I command you to tell me!” Arthur was screaming now. He was sure of that. The disk in his hand was still warm to the touch.

“Is someone there? Please answer me. I am...I am begging you to speak.” Arthur changed his tone. Maybe he was frightening someone who had come to help. Maybe it was Tolemac, he thought. “Tolemac, is that you? Answer me. Do not be afraid. Please just answer me.”

“No, it is not Tolemac.” A voice returned.

Arthur took a sigh of relief. “There is someone here. Thank God. Who are you? Is there anyone else here with you?”

“No, you and I are quite alone.” The voice had moved to the other side of the bed.

“Where did the servants go? Please call for them. I need their help.” Arthur did not recognize this stranger’s voice.

“They are off busy trying to find you help. I am afraid it is too late. You see, I have...Oh, I am sorry, you cannot see. Isn’t that correct?” The voice moved again to the foot of the bed.

“Who are you? Where are my servants? Why are you here?” Arthur felt a coolness travel over him as the voice spoke.

“Look at the great and mighty ruler of Camelot. What a sight. He was broken and blinded. Perhaps you are thirsty?” The voice brought a cup of water over to the king. He held it up to his lips. Arthur could smell the liquid. It was not water. It had a pungent odor and was foul.

Arthur turned his head away from the odious offering. He had moved his head. Arthur had moved his head! He had movement, of a sort.

“Very well done. You are regaining your capabilities”. The voice was now beside him. “You have been a big problem but that will soon be over”.

“Who are you, I demand to know!” Arthur followed the voice with his head.

“You are in no position to be demanding anything.

What will you do? Subdue me and force me into a dungeon? Maybe the gallows are another solution. In addition, there is no on to help you. No one is here. It is just you and me. They were together again. The voice enjoyed this statement.

“Together again? Who are you? Why are you here? Do I know you?” Arthur could feel his arms now. He almost could move them just a little.

“Of course, you know me although you may wish you did not. It was always that way.” The voice touched Arthur’s leg.

Arthur reacted and was able to pull his leg away from the touch. “Guards, guards!” Arthur called for help.

“There is no one here to help you. The servant and guard are dead. I killed them.” The voice spoke calmly and seemed to be delighted and a bit smug.

“What? What did you do to them? They were no threat to you. What do you want of me? I am old and cannot even fend for myself.” Arthur could move his fingers. He could feel the disk in his hand.

“But you are not defenseless. Not nearly as much as I would wish you to be. The voice was now on the other side of the room, near the window.

“What do you want of me? Why are you here?” Arthur pulled his free hand up and under the blanket, sliding it up to his chest.

“Want of you? Why, I want nothing of you! That is just it. There is too much of you. There always was.” The voice sounded angrier.

“You speak in riddles. I have no idea what you speak about.” Arthur tried to move his legs. They shifted.

“You have always been a thorn in my side. Always the good and kind, King Arthur. Always the just and kind ruler. You were too good and no one else mattered. Now all this is about to change. I have waited a long time for this day Arthur.” The voice seemed vaguely familiar to Arthur now.

“I have waited and waited for this day. I dreamed about it. The ways I have killed you. The tortures I have devised for you. No mercy, no kindness.” The voice came closer.

Arthur could feel the strength return to him, but not as fast as he wished it would. He was still too weak to defend himself and he was still blind.

“You speak of vengeance. You want me dead? What have I done to you? I know not your name. I cannot see you. Tell me who you are. Speak to me!” Arthur could feel his legs and feet move.

“Of course, I expected you to not remember me. You never really cared for me much anyway. I was always in your way. Why were you jealous of me? I had nothing you wanted, except your blood. You didn’t want to share that with me.”

Arthur suddenly realized the face behind the voice. “Mordred!”

“Yes, it is I, dear brother. The baby brother, I have returned to visit you. I am sorry you are so ill. Then, that is what I intended. My mother left me with many potions. Some to make a man weak, some to blind...” Mordred was inches away from Arthur’s face.

“It was you who did this to me! You have blinded me. Nevertheless, why? I have done nothing to you.” The realization of having Mordred so close to him while he was in this state frightened Arthur.

“You will pay for my mother’s death.” Mordred grabbed Arthur’s throat. “You will pay for the years I spent in exile. Is it to be that I am not able to claim my rightful place? Not able to live as your brother and share your incredible wealth. You have taken much from me.” His hands closed in on Arthur making it almost impossible for him to breath.

“Aaahhh!” Arthur struggled to free himself. He could only move a little more than before. His arms and legs were far too weak.

Mordred released Arthur. “Now the tides have turned. You see, I have something of yours now. It is something of value. I only found out about it recently. I was traveling through France when I came upon a young priest. He was bringing in his sheep for the night. I befriended him and spoke with him over supper. He told me of his life and we drank through the night. The priest liked his wine. So much so, that he spoke of secrets and hidden trusts. I, of course, being intrigued, gladly poured him drink after drink until he confessed to me all his dirty little secrets.”

Arthur knew of Mordred’s evil ways and what he intended. “What does this all have to do with me?”

“Patience brother, you were always too eager. Merlin, you remember him do you not? Merlin always said you were too inpatient.” Mordred sat on the bed near Arthur. “Where was I? Oh, yes, you speak of my conversation with the talkative holy man. He had drunk so much by this time; he started to speak of more secrets and vows he had taken to protect and hide from the world. Being the inquisitive soul that I am, I prodded him to unload his heavy burden. The priest spoke of a woman who had come to a convent years before. She delivered a child and simply gave him to another. She thought it was not her husbands but that of his closet and most dearest of friends. Ashamed and guilt ridden, she entered the convent life giving her life to God and her son to a knight and his wife.”

“Tolemac”, Arthur realized Mordred had been speaking of Tolemac. It was his son. Tolemac was Arthur’s son or was he the son of Lancelot?

“How can you be sure of his story and that the boy is my son? What proof do you have?” Arthur wanted this boy to be his son; Merlin told him he had a son. Could this be Tolemac?

“At one point in conversation with the priest, he told me of the boy child and of a mark on his body. He felt he had said too much already and the wine had stopped his outpouring of words. I then tortured him and brought him back to his senses. He died hours later but not before, he told me of the proof of the child’s parentage. The boy had a mark on his back. It was a strange mark but clearly visible. No one in the convent noticed it. His mother only saw the boy for a few minutes before he was taken away.” Mordred delighted in recounting this tale of deception.

Arthur wanted to know of the mark on the boy. Could this be the same mark? Could it mirror the one he carried on his own back?

Mordred continued. ”There was no doubt in my mind about the boy. The mark on his back was that of a sword or rather of Excalibur, your sword. The same mark you have on your back. I know of its existence as I had seen you bathing in a stream years ago. I was amazed at its exact likeness and clarity. The priest spoke of the boys mark.

There was the proof. It was your son. Tolemac is your son. But not for much longer.”

Arthur felt his strength return to him. He jumped up from the bed and charged Mordred or at least where he thought he was. He followed his voice and pounced on him, knocking him off the bed and onto the floor.

Mordred, taken by surprise broke free of Arthur’s hold. He had not intended to let his guard down this much. He was surprised to see the potion had worn off that was weakening him. However, blindness still hid the world from him.

“You devil from hell. I swear I will kill you with my own hands!” Arthur reached out towards Mordred who was now standing in front of him.

“Where is he? Where is my son? What have you done to him?” Arthur tried to get hold of Mordred.

“He is with me, brother. I have him. He is safe for the time being. However, not for much longer. He too will die, as you will. I leave you now but I will return to finish what I started and oh, don’t worry, I’ll give Tolemac your best regards.” Mordred stepped out of the way just before Arthur rushed at him. Arthur flew through the air missing Mordred and landing on the chair, shattering it.

Mordred heard some voices from outside. He moved to the door and out into the corridor. “Maybe now Arthur, you will see what it is to lose a blood relative. It is not pleasant. It rips your heart out. That is what I intend to do to you and to your son.”

The door closed behind Mordred and Arthur fell slumped to the floor. His son, his only son was in danger. That is what Merlin said. He had to find him, to save and protect him.

Arthur felt the warmth of the disk in his hand. He still had the golden disk. Merlin said to use it to find and protect the boy. Arthur raised the disk into the air. Its’ light penetrated his eyes. They burned with the heat of a thousand hot daggers. He screamed in pain. Arthur thrashed on the floor holding his eyes with his hands still clutching the disk. A strange feeling came over him. His burning eyes now were less so. The feeling was returning to normal. The burning had stopped.

Arthur sat against the wall trying to compose himself, his head propped in his hands. He had started to cry from the pain and from the hopelessness of the situation. Through his tears, Arthur could make out some faint light. Not much but light it was. He raised his head and looked around the room. He could make out pale images and there was the window. Its light flooded the room. His sight was returning. Arthur stood and staggered to the window, throwing open the shutters. He could see now. He could see! The sun was bright and he could see the green hills and trees.

Arthur turned into the room. He walked to the table. The disk in his hand still glowed with its warmth. This would help him find Tolemac. This would help him find his son.


Chapter 6

Guinevere had awoken suddenly, her hair was wet and she was breathing hard. She had been dreaming. It was a nightmare. She could not remember what it was about other than it had scared her.

It was still dark outside. The whole convent was asleep. Guinevere got out of bed and stood in the radiance of the moon light that shown through her small window. It washed her face with light.

The moon was full and quite brilliant in the night sky. She had often watched the moon when it was large and full. Ever since she was a small child, she remembered. She and Arthur would go riding late at night and then rest under a large oak tree and watch the moon drift across the sky, wrapped in each other’s arms.

This was not proper thoughts for a nun, a Mother Abbess at that. Guinevere returned to her bed. It was a cool evening and the covers gave her warmth.

She sometimes missed her old life. However, it was gone. This was her life now. She had given herself to God and with time, He would forgive her for what she had done. If only Arthur would forgive her. That was not possible.

The last time she had seen him, he looked at her with so much hurt, and she could not bear it. She left England for Wales, traveling with Lancelot as her escort.

Lancelot never spoke to her during this time. He only brought her here and then he was gone. He gave no good-byes or farewells. He was too ashamed of what they had done. They both would have to live with this the rest of their lives.

How could she have been disloyal to Arthur, her husband? He was so good and kind. She loved him with all of her heart. To this day, Guinevere cannot understand what made her so impulsive and irresponsible.

Nevertheless, she was responsible. She was to blame for what happened. Guinevere felt it was all her fault and that even Lancelot was not at fault. She had taken the burden of sin herself.

Guinevere turned over onto her side. Lancelot was her husband’s friend, his best friend, his right arm. He was her best friend also. Lancelot could be arrogant and egotistical. He was so full of himself and his many accomplishments. He was also sweet and kind. She loved him as Arthur did. He was their true friend. Lancelot would defend either of them with his life if it need be.

Then it happened. She felt herself longing for him. To be with him was a curse. Arthur never knew of her thoughts. They were unspeakable. Guinevere could not stop thinking of her betrayal. It came on her suddenly, as if she was not in control of her thoughts, actions or desires. This was not like her. She loved Arthur and Lancelot loved Arthur. They would never do anything to hurt him. However, they did.

One night when Arthur was away hunting with Pellinore, she had felt herself drawn to Lancelot as if in a trance. She went to him and woke him from his sleep. She does not remember much after that except they were both ashamed of what they had done. Lancelot could not look her in the eyes the next morning. She could not look Arthur in his eyes. They had betrayed the man they both loved.

Lancelot had decided to leave Camelot. He thought it best. He had come to her to say goodbye one night and to beg forgiveness for himself. He could no longer face Arthur everyday and stand beside him. Everyone had been whispering about them. The guards and women of the court spoke in hushed tones when they were together.

Finally, Lancelot could take no more. It would be best for him to leave and never return to Camelot. He would live his life without the two people he loved most in the world.

Mordred had been spying on them, watching them. Guinevere had no plans of seeing Lancelot ever again. Not the way she had the night before. It was wrong, they both knew it. It was a mistake, a great mistake. It should have never happened.

Mordred and several of his men ambushed Lancelot and Guinevere as they bid their farewell. Arthur, according to the laws of the land was to execute them both for reasons of treason and summoned them. It was treason of passion. This was punishable by death and no less. Guinevere went along with the guards willingly. Lancelot escaped to France where he plotted Guinevere’s rescue.

Days passed and it was time for Guinevere to face her executioner and the fires of the stake. Law decreed it; Mordred had reminded Arthur of his duty. Mordred had control over Arthur now. The king had to uphold the law. He had to kill the woman he loved. As for Lancelot, he could never return to England, exiled in disgrace.

As the time neared for the execution, Lancelot rode into Camelot fighting with a rebel group of knights to free Guinevere. Many knights had lost their lives. Arthur felt helpless.

Guinevere had escaped with Lancelot. He was sure of that and he was relieved. They would both live although he would never see them again.


Lancelot took Guinevere to a convent in Wales where she would spend the rest of her life in repentance. He then rode off to France where he would fight for his homeland. England and France had declared was on each other because of their short-lived unfaithfulness.

Lancelot left her with the sisters of serenity. She closed herself in the stoned walls and devoted her life to God. After several months, she discovered she was with child. She suspected the child to be of Lancelot’s. She spent the next several months praying for forgiveness and guidance. Her child, the child of Lancelot would never know his parents love. This was the only choice she had. She could not hurt Arthur any more than she had already done. He had become ill and his Camelot was at war with the world. She had heard that Arthur had banished Mordred from Camelot. If only he had done so sooner.

Knights would fight among themselves taking sides for or against the king. She had to spare Arthur this anguish, she could not tell him or Lancelot who the father was. Guinevere did not want either of them to suffer the shame of her sin.

The moon meandered silently below the far side of the window. It was close to morning. She had been awake for hours. Thinking of what was and what would have been. What should have been?

Guinevere arose from her bed. She would wash and ready herself for the day. She thought of going to the chapel to pray but her mind was elsewhere.

Her habit was lying on the chair back. She picked it up and felt it’s’ texture. Black, course, woven material it was. There was a time when she wore silk and satins in colors of the rainbow.

A hem had torn from the bottom. Guinevere thought she should mend it now as everyone would be waking soon and it would not look proper for the Mother Abbess to have a tattered habit.

Searching through her small clothing chest, she came across a small basket with her needles and thread in it. This was the only thing that she had kept after entering the convent. Lady Anne, the wife of Sir Dinadan, gave it to her. She had been one of her Ladies in waiting.

Lady Anne had traveled with Guinevere and Lancelot to Wales. She had come to be with her. If it were not for Lady Anne, Guinevere would have no one. Lancelot would not speak to her or even look directly at her.

Lady Anne helped her with her choice to go to the convent. After fleeing Camelot, she sent word to Lady Anne. Being her trusted lady in waiting, of course, she would come.

Sir Dinadan knew of his wife’s plans to travel with Guinevere. He had told Arthur so to relieve him as his heart was broken and it was killing him. He knew that Arthur would rather his wife enter a convent in exile than to be burned at the stake. Arthur never asked where the convent was located. He was happy to know she was safe at least.

Lady Anne stayed with Guinevere for several months. Sir Dinadan would send word to her of the kings declining health and of the decay and ruin of Camelot. Guinevere would always look forward to Lady Anne’s visits during her adjustment to convent life. It was her only link to the outside world.

When Guinevere realized she was to have a child.

Of course, Lady Anne was there to comfort her. The then Mother Abbess of the convent also knew and one of the young visiting priest. No one else would ever know.

There were long discussions between them as to the fate of the child. There was not any possibility for Guinevere to keep the child and become a nun. Guinevere had understood this. However, she was to give up her child and to whom.

The decision was that the child traveling with Lady Anne back to England. There, a family who lost one of their own children to illness would take on the child. The baby’s identity, a secret, would erase his real parentage from the world.

The following months passed and then the day the child came into the world. Lady Anne was present at the birth. All went well. Guinevere was relieved as she thought she and the child would die as a punishment from God.

Once the baby was born and Guinevere drifted off to sleep, would have her child taken away. The past months had been hard for her and she was exhausted. She slept for several days.

Guinevere remembers hearing the baby cry. Someone said it was a boy. She began to cry. She cried herself to sleep that night and again every night for the next several months.

In spite of Guinevere’s health, the baby was a robust boy. Fair haired and blue eyed. He had an angelic face and striking blue eyes.

Guinevere would ask Lady Anne daily of his progress and wanted to know everything. She had named the baby Tolemac. It had come to her in a dream. When it was time for Lady Anne and the baby to leave for England, Guinevere begged her to take the child as her own and Sir Dinadan’s.

Sir Dinadan arrived to escort his wife and the baby home. After seeing Tolemac, Sir Dinadan accepted the baby and from that point on, they were to raise it as their own child. They would explain the child as abandoned and that they would raise it, as they had not had children of their own, due to stillbirths.

Guinevere understood that it would be too dangerous to return with news of the child, so they said their good-byes. When it came the time for them to leave, Guinevere took to her room. She remained there for many months praying and learning the ways of the convent life. Thoughts of the baby soon diminished but they never totally left. Her every prayer included the boy and his adoptive parents.

The Mother Abbess died several years later along with Guinevere’s secret. The priest, although young, vowed to keep his silence. She trusted Sir Dinadan and Lady Anne. After all, she had given them her only child.

Lady Anne had given Guinevere this basket of threads and needles. She had used it many times to make adjustments on the queen’s many gowns.

Guinevere could remember her exact words to her when she presented the gift. “Know in your heart that this child will always be loved and well taken care of. We will love and care for him and teach him all that is good and fair.” Lady Anne had placed a piece of the cloth from the baby’s first gown in it. She had sewn it as the lining on the bottom. Underneath the lining was a lock of the child’s golden hair.

Guinevere had never seen the lock of hair. She always knew it of its presence but was always afraid to see it, less her secret revealed.

Carefully she pulled back the material breaking the small stitches that held it firmly in place all these years. There among stray strands of thread was a tiny lock of silky flaxen hair. Not many strands but it was spun gold to Guinevere.

She picked up the lock of hair and brought it to her face letting it touch her cheek. The softness made her smile. She thought of the child. She wondered how he was.

Guinevere had not heard from Lady Anne since the day they left. War had broken out and Guinevere prayed everyday for their safety and well-being. She accepted this and knew Tolemac would have a family and loved and this made Guinevere start to cry. She longed for her child. She wanted to hold him, to comfort him and to watch him grow.

The morning bells started to ring as they did everyday for the last ten years. Guinevere placed the lock of hair back into the sewing basket and pulled the cloth over it. She would secure it with thread tonight.

Several nuns had passed by her room. She could hear the sound their shoes made on the wooden floors. She had finished dressing and secured her wimple. As she brushed her hair back into the cap, she felt her hair, still soft and she started to cry again. It had reminded her of her baby.

Closing the door behind her, she went out to start her day. There was much to do in the convent today. She closed the door behind her, leaving the sewing basket on the bed. She had forgotten to put it away in her dressing chest.


236 pages
21 Chapters

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 15.01.2011

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to my grandsons, Alexander, Hunter, Noah, Ryan, Chase and Legend