Prince Accolon (A Children of the May Short Story - Book 1.5a)

Chapter Four: Two Excaliburs

 ‘My king, I will be your champion in this fight,’ said Sir Gawain, as Arthur mounted the carthorse Sir Bors had unhooked from the wagon.

‘Nonsense,’ said Arthur, whose dark eyes carried huge black bags; he had not slept on their journey as he was suffering from profound indigestion, brought on by his body’s sympathy with the bloodshed across the sea. ‘I need no armour. You know as well as I that no knight can harm me as long as I carry Excalibur and her scabbard. The Lady of the Lake told me that many years ago. I will kill this boy still in my nightshirt.’

Gawain knew that what the king said was true. Arthur was not a great fighter. Those first battles in the War of Eleven kings, when Arthur still carried the sword he pulled from the stone, had been embarrassing. Up until that point the king had only ever known fighting by observing his foster-brother. He had served as Sir Kay’s squire, and never bested anyone more impressive than a stablehand. But since the sword from the stone shattered in a fight against King Pellinore, and Lady Nemue had given the king Excalibur to replace it, Arthur had never been harmed. The king’s technique was still not up to much, but his opponents’ blows glanced off the king, their weapons shattered. Excalibur’s green blade split their armour and helms like the skins of soft fruits.

So when Arthur stepped forward to face Prince Accolon neither Gawain nor Bors had reason to fear for their king’s safety, even though Excalibur drooped heavy in his hand.

‘You do me great incivility, Accolon,’ said the king. ‘I had thought once to make you a knight of the table round, but now I’m happy enough for you to die. Let this be yet another lesson to all who disobey me.’ With a little groan he lifted Excalibur to show the blade to the prince. ‘You know the sword, do you not? She never had the chance to slay your father in the Battle of Caerleon, so she thirsts for your family’s blood.’

Accolon laughed in the king’s face. He too drew his sword, and Sir Gawain saw with alarm that it also had a strange green glow, just like Excalibur.

‘My king, perhaps it is best that I fight this prince for you,’ said Sir Bors. ‘He is beneath your consideration.’

‘Nonsense,’ said Arthur. ‘Have I not slain more kings than anyone in the world? Have I not slain giants and senators of Rome?’ He nudged the reluctant carthorse forward. ‘Have at it, Accolon. This is your last fight.’

Accolon shifted in his saddle, and dropped to the ground. ‘Come at me, foul king. I will kill you standing in the mud, even with you mounted. Know that this sword I wield is the true Excalibur, given to me by your own half-sister, Morgan le Fay.’

‘Nonsense,’ said the king. ‘Why would she do that? My sister Morgan loves me.’

‘Worse luck for you, old chap. She lovesme. I’ve been this last week and more in her enchanting black chapel, and she gave me this blade she stole from you. The true Excalibur.’ Accolon nodded at the sword in Arthur’s hand. ‘That there is a fake she made last time you visited her, dear fellow.’

This shook the king, though he tried to hide it. If there was one thing Arthur thought he could be certain of, it was the love of both his sisters; a love that had begun even before they knew how closely they were related. He remembered the last time he had visited King Uriens’ castle. Morgan had made no secret of her love for him, even though her displays of sisterly devotion had caused her besotted husband much pain. Arthur had even allowed his pretty sister to examine the sword when they were alone together in Morgan’s bedchamber. She was fascinated by the magic the Lady of the Lake had woven into its metal...

Which gave the king pause. He looked to Sir Gawain. The king was nothing if not suspicious of truth in love.

‘The thought of fighting this insolent young wretch appals me, Sir Gawain. Would it not be wrong for a king to stoop so low as to fight a traitor?’