Camelot

Twenty-Three - The Future of the Throne

Twenty-Three – The Future of the Throne

A year had passed since the day Morgana had disappeared. Then, as quickly as she had vanished, she was found. The castle had reacted joyously when their beloved Morgana returned. A feast was thrown in her honour and Uther and Arthur were beaming with joy. That night was the first time in months that Arthur and I retired to our chambers together and woke together the next morning. He no longer had to lead gruelling searches in the hope of finding the King's ward.

Darkness quickly followed, with Uther becoming mad, attacks on the castle and Arthur's own life being put in danger by his unfaulting trust in the girl who he called his sister. It was only a matter of time before the darkness finally took hold, taking over the castle making Camelot its slave.

I had been in court the day it had all happened. Uther sat upon his throne, his hair thinning and his face hard and aged. He had not been the same since Morgana's enchantment with the mandrake, which had sent him spiralling into madness. Arthur had spent much of his time governing the Kingdom from that time onwards, but in court, Uther remained on his throne.

Arthur entered the court, the cloak that adorned the Knights of Camelot in his grasp. Uther stood, sending the court into silence. From where I was standing in the room I could see that the pocket that bore the insignia of Camelot was blackened. There had been an attack on one of our patrols.

Uther took the cloak from his son's hands and ran his gloved fingers over the blackened dragon. His brows furrowed into a deep frown as he turned back towards his throne, anger on his lips. "It was Cenred who did this, you're certain of it?" he questioned.

"Yes, my lord," Arthur responded. "His messengers only this minute departed Camelot. Cenred said that the patrol trespassed on his land, and an example had to be made."

"How many dead?" Uther asked, turning back towards him.

"All of them, sire," Arthur answered, sadness in his tone. "Every last man."

"The knights?" his Father continued.

"All lost," came Arthur's response. "Edric, Alduuf, Osric and Sir Leon."

Silence filled the room as his words settled in. I noticed many of the highborn looking towards each other, grief or concern etched into their faces. The men who had been unjustly slaughtered by Cenred's men told a single story. Tension between the two Kings had reached an all time high.

Sir Leon returned to the castle the very next night.

Arthur and Uther were in high spirits upon his return, greeting him with warmth. Sir Leon was a highly-respected knight and the news of his death had greatly upset Arthur. He had spent the night restless, unable to find comfort in sleep. There was nothing that I could do to help him.

"We thought you were dead for sure," Arthur beamed, extending a warm greeting to his knight. The weight that had been resting on his shoulders seemed to vanish.

"I was dead," Leon responded. "Or as good as. Until the Druids found me."

The smiles immediately left Uther and Arthur's faces. I felt a shiver run down my back, the very place where I concealed the very mark of my own heritage with the Druid people.

"Druids?" questioned Uther.

"Yes, my lord," answered Sir Leon. "I owe them my life."

"How did they heal you? You were as good as dead, you said," Uther pressed, stepping towards Leon so that he was only inches away.