Morgain's Revenge Read Free

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TWO
    “A nd so, sire, I must protest at this plan, even as I understand why my fellow knights might think it needful…”
    Gerard was standing against a wall with the other squires, each standing attendance to their master. A tapestry on the wall across the room’s grand table showed a scene from Arthur’s coronation: Arthur standing in front of the masses, Excalibur in his hand, Merlin off to his right and Sir Kay and Sir Bors at his left. Gerard thought he could close his eyes and recount every single thread in the tapestry, he had been staring at it for so long.
    “I’m going to make a break for that cheese,” Tyler muttered under his breath, two squires down. Mak, between them, snickered quietly. The cheese he referred to, a half-eaten yellow-washed wheel,was on the sideboard at the far end of the room, along with slices of meats, bread, and a scattering of dried fruits. The knights were able to get up and take food as they wished. None of the squires had that option, not while the council was in session. Nor without permission, which none of their masters had remembered to give, so caught up in the argument at hand.
    Hunger aside, Gerard wasn’t happy. And he didn’t understand why. After the events of the past month—taking charge when the adults were all cast under a sleep-spell, and even facing down the king’s sorceress half-sister—he had become the undisputed leader of the squires. There was even talk of him being knighted early. Not that it would happen right away. He had years to go yet. But the talk was enough to puff up his pride dangerously. Sir Lancelot, his hero, had even patted him on the shoulder approvingly when the story was told, and said that he himself could have done no better.
    But greater than all that, Gerard had been invited by Arthur himself to join the knights on the Grail Quest when it finally rode out. For a fourteen-year-old squire, it was every dream coming true.
    And yet…
    “That, my king, is insane!”
    And yet Gerard heartily wished he could be anywhere else right now. Even if it meant giving up his place on the Quest? No, probably not. But if suffering made a soul worthy to touch the Grail—the way some of the knights described—he was absolutely being readied for it.
    “You dare?” Gerard was startled out of his morose thoughts when Sir Josia pounded on the table with one meaty fist, trying to drown out the knight across the table from him—both standing and gesturing excitedly.
    “I dare because it is true! To leave Camelot now, when that sorceress has made such a blatant move against the king, is madness that must not go unchallenged! Sire, reconsider this! Send knights off, yes, if you must, but no such grand procession as was planned! And do not send the best of us when they are needed here!”
    Sir Sagremor, an older knight, with the scars of battle on his face and arms, crashed his olivewood goblet onto the table. “Now is when we need the Grail most of all, you idiot! And only the finest of knights have any chance of finding it and bringing it home!”
    “We need no cup to prove our worth! Least of all some cup that may not even exist!” Sir Lamorak said in disgust.
    “Blasphemy!” Sir Galahad, normally the mildest of voices, shouted in outrage. He shoved his chair back across the stone floor as he stood up.
    “ Your blasphemy, maybe,” Lamorak said in response. “I am no Christian, to worship a man on a tree.”
    The table erupted again, many voices competing against each other—not to be heard, but to drown the others out.
    Through it all, Arthur sat in his grand chair at the Round Table. He leaned his bearded chin on his palm and watched intently as his knights shouted and swore and waved their arms to make their points. The din was almost unbearable. Gerard couldn’t help but wonder how the king was able to hear anything, much less his own thoughts.
    “Sire, please.” Sir Kay, the king’s foster brother and Gerard’s uncle,