Return to Camelot
On the third day after Ray found out he was going to have to run Camelot alone, Mordred returned to the castle. He was furious to learn that Arthur had, indeed, returned - and even moreso when he found Raymond had been chosen to succeed him. Arthur reproached him for threatening violence on the court, and gave him a chance to re-affirm his oath to the throne.
Mordred did no such thing, but he didn't re-affirm his declaration of war, either. Arthur and Guinevere seemed to count this a temporary win. "Yet were I you," Arthur said, "I would ready the castle for battle all the same."
"I wish you were me," was all Ray could say.
Ten days after the announcement, Ray was awakened in the middle of the night by violent stomach cramps. He broke into a sweat, doubled over in pain, terrified that he'd been poisoned. But how? When could it have happened? Guinevere had ordered a taster to pre-test all his food, and she'd assigned her most trusted knights to guard him. How could this have happened?
Ray moaned in agony as another cramp gripped him. There came a tap at the door, and a hesitant, "My Lord?" Ray could only groan in response. He tried to get up, but crashed to the floor. The door opened and Ray caught sight of the alarmed face of Sir Tristan.
"Sir Raymond!" Ray's single attempt to speak only resulted in him dry heaving. "I'll fetch the doctor, sir."
Ray attempted to nod, and attempted to feel relief when he heard Tristan's quick footsteps running down the hall. Mostly, he felt like absolute trash, and he wished he could make himself lose consciousness. The last time he remembered feeling this bad was when he defiantly ate two cupcakes at a college party, and... ohhh, shit!
What the hell had he eaten? The relentless cramps, cold sweats and shuddering chills made it impossible for Ray to concentrate on what he'd had to eat today. He just focused on riding through the waves of pain as best he could.
An eternity later, Tristan returned with a doctor and two helpers. The doctor knelt beside him and felt his head. "What ails ye, m'lord?" he asked.
"I need... t-to-" The dry heaving started again and the doctor nodded.
"A glass of water, quickly," the doctor snapped. He pulled something out of his bag, poured about a tablespoon of it into the full glass of water his assistant hastened to bring him, and beckoned to Tristan. "We must hold him up. And you-" he said, pointing to the second helper. "See he drinks it all."
The two men forced Ray into a sitting position, despite his body's instinctive attempts to curl up. Then, the second helper held the water to his lips and helped Ray to drink it down. The glass was removed and the doctor released him. The moment they let go, Ray crouched down again. "It should work in a few moments, sir. Get him a basin."
True to the doctor's word, after the unpleasant experience of being manhandled into a position to drink a disgusting tonic, said tonic started working. Ray began heaving violently, (but productively this time) into the basin. His stomach lurched again and again, and by the time it was all over, Ray was exhausted - shuddering and drenched with sweat. But the horrible cramping had stopped, leaving only the ghost of the former pain in its wake.
"Thank you," Ray said, voice hoarse. "Thank you all. I'm much better, thank you."
"Our pleasure, m'lord," the doctor said. "I will remain nearby. My assistant will stay up and listen, and he'll call me should you begin to feel ill again."
Ray shook his head, knowing he was past the worst of it, but Tristan insisted. He and the doctor helped Ray back into bed, and the doctor said he would attempt to determine what poison was used.
"No need," Ray said. They looked surprised, but Ray told them he was sure it was a mistake in the kitchen. "All my desserts and bread are supposed to be made from oat flour instead of wheat. Someone must have made a mixup in the kitchen."
Sir Tristan beckoned one of the guards. "Send the cook up here immediately," he commanded.
"No, no," Ray said. "Please, Sir Tristan, I want no commotion. I'll be okay by morning. I'm sure it was an innocent mistake."
Tristan shook his head. "Sir Raymond, we must know the cause of this. If it was an innocent error, we must take all measures to prevent it happening again. And if the cook knows more, and this was intentional, we must find that out, and he must be punished." Ray was dubious, but Tristan was insistent. "Please, sir. You shall be my king in a matter of a few days. Queen Guinevere has tasked me with protecting you. Please allow me to perform my duty, sir."
Ray hesitated, but nodded finally. "Very well, Sir Tristan."
"Thank you, sir."
Tristan commanded the guards to wake the cook and bring him immediately. While they waited, Tristan made sure Ray was comfortable, and asked if he wanted something warm to drink, or anything else. Ray's stomach was still mildly queasy, and he was barely comfortable with the idea of drinking more water, much less some involved spiced drink. He declined and just tried to rest.
After a few minutes, the guards knocked on the chamber door, and Tristan told them to enter. Two of the guards came in, forcefully gripping the arms of the head cook, William. Ray had met him before, when he first made his special food requirements known. Now, the normally pleasant, cheery middle-aged man was nervous and disheveled, still wearing his night clothes and dressing gown.
As soon as he saw Ray, the cook fell to his knees, trembling hard. His face went sheet-white, and Ray knew he must be terrified. It was a royal cook's worst fear - the king (or king to be) had been poisoned.
Sir Tristan turned and scowled. "Now then! You must answer for this!"
"Please, my lord," the cook stammered. "What has happened?"
"Sir Raymond has been poisoned! And if it's due to your carelessness, you will rue it!"
He shook his head. "I... h-how? His lordship has a taster, I don't understand."
"This poison was designed to evade a taster," Tristan said. "But you already know that, don't you?!"
"Please, I know nothing of this, my lord!"
"You must!"
Ray raised his hand, and Tristan stopped. "Will," he said calmly. "You know all my baked goods have to be made with oat flour instead of wheat, do you not?"
William sagged with relief. "God be praised," he breathed. "Yes, sir! If it is this, then it cannot be I, for I have used nothing else."
Ray frowned and glanced at Tristan. "This is what happens to me when I eat wheat."
"Will you be all right, m'lord?" the cook asked. "You'll not..."
"I'll live," Ray said.
"Saints be praised!"
"Indeed. I'll feel ill for a few days, and if the doctor had not been here, It would have been worse. I don't understand, if William here has been careful. Does anyone else cook for me, or help you?"
"I have many helpers for the rest of the court. But after I learned of your need, I have stopped using regular flour at all, in case someone shared something with you, or to prevent mishap with the servants."
Ray frowned, even more confused. "That's wise. But..."
Tristan shook his head and looked at William. "And no one could have tampered with the flour?"
"No, I... I don't-". He gasped, and the blood drained from his face.
"What is it?" Ray asked.
The cook shivered and clasped his hands together. "I... Sir Raymond, I-"
"Speak!" Tristan shouted. "What do you know of this?"
Despite Tristan's insistence, William seemed too terrified to answer. He was shaking even worse than before, and Ray thought he might be near tears. Tristan pointed at one of the guards, and the man gripped William by the back of the neck and drew his sword. "No, please! Please, Sir Raymond, have mercy!"
"Be careful, Tristan," he said. "I want no blood shed here, understood?"
"Yes, sir." Tristan nodded, and the guard put away his sword.
"Guards, you may go."
The guards snapped to attention, but the one holding Will hesitated. "Your pardon, my lord, but..."
"The man is unarmed," Ray said sternly. "And he obviously has no intention of hurting me. Go. Tristan will stay to protect me if the need arises."
The guard bowed low and released William's neck. When Ray was finally alone with the cook and Tristan, he sighed and pushed himself up into a sitting position. Tristan helped hip up. William was still shaking, his head bowed, hands clasped tight in front of him. Ray put on his best "I'm not a threat" expression. "Look at me, William." The cook reluctantly looked up. "Please, don't be afraid to speak the truth to me. If you didn't do this on purpose, you won't be punished. I give you my word."
"Oh, God bless Your Lordship," William said, voice shaking. "I would never have... hurt you on purpose, sir. But I... I remembered s-something, and..." He hesitated, and Ray frowned. "Please forgive me, s-sir, I... I should have thought more of it, but I n-never thought he would-".
He cut himself off, and Tristan stepped toward him. "Out with it, man!"
William cringed. "I... fear to say, Lord! I fear you will not believe me."
"Try me," Ray said, already almost certain he knew exactly which knight it was. "Whoever it is, I give you my word, he will not know you spoke to me."
"Thank you, sir. I... it... it was...". William took a deep breath to steady himself. "This morning, as I went in to begin my duties, I saw King Constantine leaving the kitchens."
"So early?" Tristan cried.
"When was that?" Ray asked. "When do you normally go to the kitchens?"
"At dawn, my lord," Will said. Ray frowned deeply. "I was startled, but he said he'd been unable to sleep and had come to find something to eat."
"Did he have food or anything else with him?" Tristan asked.
"No, sir. I offered to cook something for him, but he said never mind it. He'd eaten something in the pantry and felt better. But I... I never thought to check the flour."
"Didn't check?" Tristan exclaimed. "Have you not seen or heard anything of the mood at this court lately?"
Will ducked his head. "I have, sir, but... he is a knight if the Round Table! I never thought he would tamper with a fellow knight's food! To bring harm another knight, I..." The cook shook his head, and Ray looked grimly at Sir Tristan. The other man looked furious, and William made a frightened sound. "Now by your eyes I fear he's killed me instead. Oh, Sir Raymond please, I beg of you, have mercy!'
"No, no," Ray said. "You have nothing to fear, William. Sir Tristan, there should be some brandy there. Let him sit in a chair."
Sir Tristan nodded and brought a chair over. William sat in the chair and took the tumbler of brandy Tristan offered him with a trembling hand. He took a large swallow, and slowly his hands started to grow still. "Thank you, m'lord."
"You're welcome," Tristan replied.
"Sir Raymond?"
"Yes?"
The cook cleared his throat. "I... I am truly sorry that harm has come to you through my carelessness. If I-"
"No, Will." Ray sighed heavily. "This isn't your fault. I don't blame you for thinking nothing of it. You're quite right, nothing like this should be expected between fellow knights."
Will shuddered with relief. "I thank you, Your Grace. If... I may be so bold, I know you shall make a just king."
Ray smiled at him, but he felt nothing but exhaustion and sadness. "Thank you, William. I only hope I can keep my friend from killing me long enough for me to become king."
Tristan laid a hand on Ray's arm. "You must expose him, Raymond," he said softly. "Now, before King Arthur leaves Camelot."
Ray shook his head immediately, noticing the cook grow tense, then relax the moment he shook his head. "I cannot."
"But-"
"I would only be killing good William here if I did that. Everyone knows Constantine to be honest and true. It will be William's word against his. And in truth, Will saw nothing but a man leaving the kitchen at an odd hour. I can't accuse a king of attempted murder based on that."
Tristan shook his head, clearly frustrated. "Together with what you told me of the horse, and his open anger toward you at court, you will be believed!"
"No, Tristan," Ray said, shaking his head. "Even if people noticed his behavior, it won't do. He's angry, yes, but to accuse him of poisoning me? Of subterfuge against the future High King? No one will believe it. Even Will didn't believe it! And if I accuse Constantine now, he will use it against me, and in the process, he will discredit this man and destroy his life. Even if I save him from execution, he will be banished from the palace for raising the alarm unjustly against Constantine. I cannot do that to him. And in any case, I gave William my word Constantine would not know he spoke to me. No. It must be known as an accident, no more."
Tristan sighed. "As you wish, sir." He turned to William. "You may go. I apologize for the rough treatment, William."
William shook his head. "Think nothing of it, my lord. I shall make a new order of the oat flour, and I will keep it under lock and key from now on, sir."
"Good idea, thank you, William."
"Is... is there anything I can do for you, Sir Raymond? Perhaps bring you something from the kitchen?"
"No, nothing thank you. And thank you for your honesty." William nodded, and Tristan turned away from them.
Ray listened to him tell the guards that everything had been an innocent mistake from one of the servants, and William was released to go back to his room. Tristan ordered four of the guards to remain outside the door for the rest of the night. Finally, he came back to Ray. "Shall I leave you now, sir?"
Ray nodded. "Yes, go ahead. I'm... sorry, Sir Tristan."
"Sorry, sir?"
"I know you want me to expose him, but..."
"Nay, Sir Raymond, you owe me no apology," he said. "I gave you my counsel, and you gave me your reasons for not taking it. That is your right, sir, and nothing I should not expect when you become king."
Ray gave him a hesitant nod, still feeling anxious about things. Tristan was the first knight to take a true interest in him aside from Constantine, and then it was really only because Guinevere had ordered him to protect Ray. He was nervous about alienating his only ally already.
Tristan glanced back toward the closed door, then reached for Ray and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "Sir Raymond. I believe you feel unwell in body, and because of this, your sadness at Constantine's betrayal affects you the more deeply. Now I feel you are concerned about my loyalty. Is it not so?"
Ray looked at him in surprise, amazed that he should have hit on the issue so clearly. "Yes," he said with a nod. "Yes, that's exactly how I feel.
Tristan smiled. "Then worry not, my lord," he said. "I believe your decision was quite correct. There could be no way to expose Constantine's deed without revealing that the cook had spoken. And as you said, it was possible Constantine might have convinced the court the cook was lying. Even if he did not, you would have betrayed your word, and that would be no small thing for a knight to do."
Ray smiled, feeling his shoulders relax. "Thank you very much for saying that, Sir Tristan."
"My pleasure, sir. I will say more than that. Even had I not agreed with your reasons, I would have accepted your decision. If King Arthur and Queen Guinevere trust you to rule Camelot, it is not for me to contradict them. Do not fear that you have lost my loyalty. Indeed, by placing your honor, and the safety of one of your future subjects above your own safety, you have served to strengthen it."
Ray felt the warmth rise to his face, and he smiled again. "Thank you, Sir Tristan."
"You are quite welcome, Sir Raymond. Rest well."
Ray would normally have enjoyed getting a nice shave with a real blade. It was one of those rare luxuries he used to allow himself three or four times a year when he was still running Palmer Tech. Today, though, he wished he could have gone without it. The way things had been going the past two weeks, Ray could have gone without the experience of letting a stranger hold a razor to his throat.
After Mordred's fury, the gluten issue, and two weeks straight of dealing with the angry looks of Constantine and his faithful friends, Ray was practically a nervous wreck. His arm was healed enough that he no longer needed the sling, but that was about all he had going for him. He hadn't eaten anything but clearly identifiable meat, fruit and vegetables since the incident, even after William's assurances. Constantine's obvious shock when Ray showed up at court the next day only looking a bit paler than normal made him too nervous to try anything else. He could hardly sleep through the night, for fear that someone would attack his guards and make it through to him.
And now, it was Coronation Day. The day Arthur and Guinevere would leave him alone with the wolves.
Ray tried to use the brief "privacy" of his hot towel to relax a little, but it didn't really work. He half expected someone to shoot him with a bow and arrow at the coronation, but Guinevere assured him no one would disrupt the sacred event.
Servants proceeded to dress Ray in a royal blue tunic with embroidered designs in silver and gold. He had white leggings and pants of the same color and design as the heavy tunic. When he was fully dressed, hair coiffed perfectly, the way he liked it, and dress shoes polished and shining, they finally felt he was worthy to go to the ceremony.
Arthur, Guinevere and no less than eight armed guards accompanied Ray to the great hall. The hall was filled completely with knights and courtiers, all in their finest dress. They stood when he entered, and Ray lead the way up the broad aisle, where the Archbishop stood.
Ray went through the steps carefully, but managed to give off the air that he knew exactly what he was doing. The Archbishop said words, Arthur said words and handed him a bejeweled, golden scepter. Then Guinevere spoke, and placed the crown of the high king of Britain on Ray's head.
The Archbishop's turn came again. "Do thou, Raymond Carson of the Palms, hereby pledge to place the needs of this land, and the safety of this people above all else, in the name of the Most High God?"
"I do."
The Archbishop used a silver scepter of his own to toss Holy water onto Ray's head. He bowed deeply before Ray. As he was supposed to, Ray knelt and kissed the Archbishops ring. Then, the priest said, "Rise, then, and greet thy people, High King Raymond of Camelot."
Ray stood, and everyone in the crowd knelt down, or curtsied deeply. He looked to one side, and even though he should have expected it, he was stunned to see Arthur and Guinevere kneeling, too. Ray faced the crowd, and extended the scepter toward them. They stood up and cheered. Ray put on a smile he didn't feel and accepted the applause as gracefully as he could. He couldn't help but seek out Constantine and his close friends, but this room was far too large and densely packed for him to see them clearly.
Ray was glad he couldn't see them. The only faces he could see were smiling and cheering for him. Except for the subtle death threats, looming war, and the fact that he was stranded and drastically altering the timeline, this was a dream come true. Ray Carson Palmer was King Raymond of Camelot.