Return to Camelot
Ray opened his eyes slowly, blinking in the bright light. He felt terrible - every part of his body seemed to ache. He tried to call for Gideon, but his mouth was too dry, and he only croaked out an unintelligible sound.
"Shhh, lie still, good knight," a calm female voice said. "Try to drink some of this." Someone wrapped an arm around his shoulders and tried to help him sit up. Ray tried to help, but the instant he put pressure on his left arm, pain seared through him and he cried out. "No, my lord, let me. Come here, boy, help me support him."
Ray let the woman and her helper support him, and soon he was propped up on pillows. A glass was placed at his lips, and he took a sip of water. "Thank you, miss."
"You're quite welcome, sir. Please lie still. I shall return with some warm broth to strengthen you. Come, lad."
Ray heard two sets of footsteps leaving the room. A few minutes later, he felt like he could finally open his eyes fully, and he looked around the room. He was in a large bedroom with stone walls, and a fire burning bright across from the bed. His wounds had been cleaned and bandaged, and warm blankets were pulled up around him. Now that he was no longer moving his left arm, the pain had subsided enough that he felt he could drift to sleep again.
"Sir Raymond?"
Ray started awake, shocked to realize that he had, indeed, fallen asleep again. "Wha... where am I?"
"You are in the Court of Camelot." Ray looked up into the face of the woman who'd spoken. She was in silhouette, backlit by the golden glow of the setting sun. She raised a hand, and someone closed the curtains, allowing Ray to see her face.
He gasped. "Your Grace!" He struggled to get up, but Guinevere pressed a hand to his chest.
"No, you must not stand, Sir Raymond."
"But-"
"No. Your health comes first."
"Yes, Your Grace," he said, bowing from the waist from his seated position. When he looked at her again, she was smiling. He was surprised to see that she was much older than when he'd last seen her. Ray had aged about three years since then, but Guinevere was at least fifteen or more years older. Her auburn hair was streaked with gray, and there were lines on her face that hadn't been there before. "I... may I say, it's a pleasure and a relief to see you again, Your Grace."
She smiled at him. "I say the same, Sir Raymond of the Palms. Though I must also say I am amazed to see you hardly changed since you first graced our court."
"You are too kind, Your Grace. And you, too, are as lovely and strong as when I first laid eyes on you."
She smiled again, but there was a knowing look in her eyes. "We found no sign of your companions," she said.
Ray winced. "No, I... I'm alone. Right now, they have no way to find me. I hope I may be of use to you here until they come for me."
Guinevere looked at him with genuine sympathy in her eyes. "I am sorry to hear you were separated from them. Is your... your Captain Lance still..." She trailed off.
Ray smiled. "She's still alive and well, and helping save the world," he said.
"Has she... found another?"
Ray hesitated, but nodded. "Yes, Your Grace. I'm sorry."
Guinevere smiled. "No need for apologies, Sir Raymond. I never expected to see her again. It pleases me to know she has found happiness. I, too, have... well. We may speak of this later. But you need not fear. It is as I said when we parted. There will always be a place for you at the Round Table. And even had I not made that promise, my knights were so impressed by your victory against the bandits of the East Wood that they would surely have spoken for you had it been necessary."
"Thank you very much, Your Grace. And... you say your knights. I-"
"We shall speak again when you have rested, Raymond," she said. Naturally, that only made Ray more curious, but he couldn't insist. He was one of her knights, and it would have been incomprehensible to the servants in the room, and to Guinevere herself, if he'd challenged her.
"Yes, Your Highness. I look forward to it."
She smiled - one that reached her eyes this time - and gently pressed her hand against his chest. "Rest, Sir Raymond. Tomorrow evening, if you are well enough, you will join me at table as my guest of honor."
She left, along with the servants. Someone filled a glass of water beside him, and then he was alone. He was sure his curiosity about Arthur and what had happened in the last several years would keep him awake. But his body was still exhausted from the trek and the fight, and moments after he settled down on the bed, he was asleep once more.
"He lives!" Ray looked over and smiled at the speaker. He froze for a moment, stunned to see John Constantine walking toward the main banquet table. A huge smile spread across his face, and he looked around eagerly for the others. But all he saw were the other knights, courtiers and servants milling around the banquet hall.
When he looked at John again, Ray realized he was in full costume. John had only worn a costume once, and swore he'd never do it again. His beard was fuller, his hair longer, and he seemed a bit older than the man Ray knew. Ray choked down his disappointment and forced himself to keep smiling. "I'm pleased to see you looking so well, Sir Raymond!"
"I thank you, sir," Ray said, glancing at Guinevere.
"Sir Raymond of the Palms, meet King Constantine of Dunmonia."
Ray's eyes widened and he started to stand, but Constantine waved him down. "No need to stand on formality here, Sir Raymond," he said. "We are both servants of the Round Table, are we not?" Ray smiled and nodded. "And you, quite the ferocious one at that, eh?"
"Me, ferocious?"
"Oh, now be not so modest, Sir Raymond! When we first met, I was in battle dress and helmet, so you do not recognize me-" and here, Ray had to fight to keep his expression even -"but I was the leader of the scouting party who found you taking apart that band of ruffians single handedly. I am impressed, sir."
Ray's face brightened, and he shook the other man's hand. "Well! Constantine the Great, impressed with my fighting!"
The man grinned. "Constantine the Great, is it? I like that!" Ray's smile faltered, but Constantine didn't seem to notice. He turned his attention to Guinevere. "Your Grace would do me a great honor if you would allow me to take the seat next to your guest. If that's agreeable to you, Raymond?"
Ray looked at Guinevere, and she nodded her approval. Ray smiled at Constantine. "You are quite welcome, sir. Please, have a seat."
Constantine sat beside Ray and started a lively conversation with him and Guinevere about their recent adventures. He asked Ray how it was that they had not met before now, and how he ended up in the woods in peasant's clothes.
Ray froze, but Guinevere answered smoothly. "Sir Raymond had my leave to travel overseas."
"Yes," Ray chimed in. "I traveled to Japan and stayed there for several years. The journey back left me destitute, which is why you saw me dressed as I was."
"I see! I am indeed glad to have turned our course toward your struggle."
"As am I."
"You must tell me more of Japan, Sir Raymond. What were the people like? It must have seemed strange to you."
"Er... somewhat," he said, feeling a little awkward. He thought about his last trip to Japan, trying to find a way to describe his experience to someone with an ancient understanding of other cultures. "Those I interacted with most were very kind," he said. "And their warriors have a unique fighting style."
"Indeed! When you are well enough, you must show me this new style."
"Gladly I will, but we will need to involve a blacksmith," Ray replied. Constantine looked interested, and Ray launched into a detailed description of the differences in shape, weight and balance of the Samurai sword as opposed to the broad sword.
During their talk, servants brought food and drink, and they made a merry meal. Ray drank (but not too much, so he didn't accidentally reveal the wrong thing), and he enjoyed himself very much talking to Guinevere, Constantine and some of Constantine's close friends who also joined the main table. Other knights came to wish him well, and (in some cases) to marvel at how he hadn't aged since he'd been away. Ray made up stories about the climate in Japan and rice in the diet, and they seemed to accept his explanation.
As the party started to wind down, three newcomers entered the banquet hall. Ray watched them with immediate suspicion, since they entered a giant party, but not one of them had a smile on his face. There were three men - one carrying a black and silver banner, another carrying a plain white banner, and the man in the center carrying nothing, but wearing black and silver livery. He was fairly tall, about thirty, dark-haired, with a somewhat scruffy beard and an expression on his face like he'd just stepped in horse dung.
"Now what does that bloody bastard want?" Constantine muttered.
"Who his he?" Ray asked.
"Mordred," Guinevere said, her voice stern. She sat up and looked majestically down the hall at the three men.
The three of them staked up to the table. The banner bearers stopped a few feet back and bowed, while Mordred continued forward to stand in front of the queen. "Good evening, Guinevere," he spat. Ray frowned, shocked that her would address her by her first name, and that he hadn't so much as bowed his head.
"Watch your mouth, dog!" Constantine snapped.
Mordred glared at him, and at Ray, then smirked and bowed low. "My greetings, your Majesty," he said, still in a sneering tone. "Where is King Arthur?"
"The High King is not in attendance tonight," Guinevere answered. "And you were not invited here. So state your business and be gone."
"My business is with the High King," Mordred said, glaring at the queen and the nights around her. "But as he is still absent, I will give it to this pretender to the throne!"
Ray and Constantine stood up, and Constantine pulled his dagger. "Be warned!" Constantine growled.
"That is enough!" Ray snapped at the same time.
Mordred laughed, a nasty sound. "Would the lesser king and his unknown, wounded dandy dare try to strike me down under a banner of truce?"
Ray scowled. "That banner is not a license to hurl insults unchallenged, and you know it. The king, her Majesty and I are people of honor. We have no time to waste words on a so-called duke with the tongue of an ill-mannered, impudent child. Now, speak! And then get out, or prepare to learn what this 'dandy' can do with just one arm."
Mordred sneered again, but it didn't last long. Something in their faces must have warned him against further insults. He turned his eyes back to Guinevere and said, "Your Majesty. I declare that I do not accept your sovereignty. Arthur is King, and unless he shows his face and formally declares his heir, then I shall claim this throne by rights as Arthur Pendragon's blooded kin! If you do not abdicate within five days' time, then I shall declare war upon this court and take the throne by force!"
There were gasps around the room, and several knights approached the interlopers. But Guinevere stood up and raised a hand to halt any attack. "Mordred. You have spoken your peace and you have declared yourself the enemy of this court. Know that your status as the bastard child of the sorceress Morgan in no way gives you any claim to this throne. Your message will be given to King Arthur, and if he deigns to respond to you, you shall have your answer. If he does not, then we will meet any challenge you dare attempt against our throne. Now, as the Queen of Camelot, wife of the High King of Britain, we command you to leave this castle immediately."
Mordred's face had been getting redder and redder as Guinevere spoke. When she finally told him to go, he was vibrating with rage. Ray drew himself to his full height and drew closer to Guinevere. He was unarmed, and his left arm was practically useless, but he would have done his best to kill Mordred if he made a move. Ray felt Constantine draw near him, and he knew that the king would defend Guinevere just as fiercely.
Mordred glared at them and spun on his heel, storming away. The heralds bowed and backed away from the table, and then even further back, to a respectful distance before turning and quickly following Mordred out of the hall.
Ray looked at Guinevere - her skin was paper-white, and her expression was livid. "Your Grace?" Ray reached for her, but hesitated to touch her.
She looked at him and smiled, shaking off the dark mood. "It is well, Sir Raymond."
Ray nodded, and Constantine piped in. "Don't worry, Your Grace. We stand with you. If it's a fight that ruddy bastard wants, we'll give it to him. Am I right, men?!"
Ray joined the other knights and shouted, "Aye!"
Guinevere raised her hand again. "I thank you, good knights. But we will seek to settle this with as little bloodshed as possible. For now, let us not allow this would-be usurper to ruin our evening." She smiled and lifted her glass. "We are here to celebrate the return of our friend, Sir Raymond of the Palms." Ray blushed as the queen ordered all glasses to be filled. Then she raised hers again. "To your good health, dear sir. Hi hip-"
"HUZZAH!" They repeated the cheer three times, and afterward, the merry-making began again and lasted well into the night. At the end of the night, Guinevere told Ray and Constantine to meet her at noon the next day in her study to discuss Mordred's threat. Ray had hoped to speak to the queen in private, to learn why King Arthur wasn't at court, and what had happened since he'd been here last. But he couldn't very well question her in front of everyone at the banquet, and he was forced to spend yet another night in the dark.