The Knight Behind the Pillar (3 page)

             
“The grand tournament, I was there with my brother and father.” Said Arthur, putting events in order in his head.  He sounded very tired and drained.  “Kay, that’s my brother, was entered and was about to start his first round, but we couldn’t find his sword.  Father wasn’t around to borrow his at the time and so I started to run around trying to find him or another sword somehow, somewhere.  I don’t know what happened to Kay’s, still don’t.  Of course none of the other knights were going to let me borrow any of theirs, why would they if it meant Kay, you know their competition, couldn’t fight.  I didn’t have much time or any coin to buy one and then from nowhere there it was.  It was just sticking up out of these rocks; I spotted between the tents near the top of the jousting field and before the woods.”

             
The description of the location was wasted on me as I had never been to the grand tournament.  However, I had heard of the event.  There were many jousting tournaments, most were for local knights or even for just squires, but the grand tournament at Londonium attracted the best knights to challenge each other from all over the land and some even came from across seas to be there. 

             
“You took an old sword out of a rock that might have been part of grave or worst even cursed.  Ha, you were brave,” I questioned the sense of Arthur’s actions, not sure if I did believe the tale and added, “or a fool.”

             
Arthur ignored me, which I was glad about.  I did not believe such things about curses myself really, they were stories to scare young children. 

             
“I didn’t think.  I needed a sword and this one was just there!  I didn’t think it was cursed or even out of the ordinary at the time or I wouldn’t have touched it.  Of course I do now.  It’s not something you find everyday, you know swords’ just sticking out of rocks and it isn’t normal.  But then I just saw it and thought why not borrow it.  I ran to it and pulled it out.  I remember thinking it might be a broken sword discarded by someone at first and it just looked like it was in the rock because of how it landed, but the whole thing came out easily.”

             
He fell silent and I studied his face full of thought, maybe regret.  I needed to know more, I had lots of questions, what happened next, why it was so important and something to do with everyone outside?  I could not understand any of it yet, but I did not want to push further as by the look of Arthur he would collapse under the sheer weight of whatever it was.  Instead we both ended up staring at the sword for a moment more.  

             
“Are you hungry, I am,” I suddenly interrupted the silence. 

             
I didn’t know what else to say about the sword and needed to give my head some time to think and perhaps Arthur some room to say more in his own time. 

             
“Starved,” Admitted Arthur glad of a diverting thought, “but I think I have to stay here.”

             
“Really!  Because you pulled out some old sword?” I said flatly.

             
“No, because I pulled out a sword that they think was meant for a king!” Arthur exclaimed in frustration and unexpectedly wanted me to understand the gravity of his predicament.  The word king echoed around the room, or at least it did in my head.  “That’s what they’re saying and some think I am you know, I might be their king…”

             
Arthur looked very serious and I had gained an incredible answer for the questions I had.  After the initial shock of such a statement I took a moment more to considered the facts before finally shaking my head screwing up my noise. 

             
“King,” I stated and then started to snigger, “Don’t be daft.  You can’t be made king because you find some rotten old sword, that’s not the way it’s done.  You’re born into it, trust me I know that much.”  Then I quickly changed the subject.  “Look, do you want some food or not, the kitchens aren’t far.  Besides, if you have to do as you’re told you can’t be a king.  All the kings I have ever heard of are always right, give orders and don’t go hungry.” 

             
A shy smile dawned on Arthur; I didn’t doubt this was the first for some time.  “I guess so.  If I am king then I can’t be in trouble and if I am still a squire then there is no reason why we shouldn’t be in the kitchens.” Arthur painstaking measured, or more likely to convince himself to leave.  Yet he resisted a little further.  “Except, Sir Briant told us to stay here and kept the door locked.”

             
I returned a big grin.  “No he didn’t.  He told me to stay with you and kept the door locked,” I replied mischievously and slowly headed towards the wood panelling to the side of the fireplace as I spoke.  The voice in my head was ringing a peel of bells in warning which I continued to ignore. 

This was normal territory for me, thinking on my feet and still getting in trouble even if my arguments were sound.  Feeling around the side of the wood then pulling part of the surround, the panel came away with some effort revealing a part stone and timber narrow staircase I knew would be there.  The servant’s access door and staircase clearly had not been used of late given the dust and cobwebs.  Darkness and a cold draughts were not as inviting as some cheese, bread or even soup that the journey’s end would perhaps produce.  “See, I am going to be with you and that door is going to stay locked,” I continued, pointing at the room entrance to the far side. “We’re going the servant path, unless that’s beneath your highness.”

              “A king has to eat.” Arthur retorted with a thoughtful nod of his head.

             
Arthur was an adventurer at heart after all, I applauded to myself.  He picked up a candle from the side of the room and shielding the flame with one hand pushed pass me as I offered mock bowing. 

             
“Please mind your step and be careful of your fine clothes your highness.” I teased

             
“There’re in a better state than yours.” He answered back stepping through and down. 

             
I looked down at the state of my tunic and sadly could not disagree as much I wish I could.  I was briefly crestfallen, but dismissing the truth of it I followed Arthur into the stairwell.   

             
The stairs were exceptionally steep and not very even.  There was no hand rail or rope, which would have been an expense wasted on servants, but it was not needed as the ceiling being the under croft of the stairs above was so low you could hold on to it.  You needed to accept scraped knuckles as you descended and the occasional exceptionally low beam determined to knock you out.  The candle struggled to be helpful; instead the cloud of dust that followed us was thick enough to fear setting alight.  Feeling your way down the steps was the only real option.  Two or three floors down, it was hard to tell, the feeling of being trapped in part of a wall ended with a shallow splash in something wet that had gathered at the base of the stairs.  Our two sets of eyes had by now adjusted to the gloom and we could see indication of a door ahead outlined by thin beams of light that flickered as people passed. 

             
Familiar endless hallways were unveiled as I found myself resorting to kicking the timber door to get it open.  Despite the area being full of people, no one noticed the two figures stepping out what looked like from the outside a small storage cupboard door to the side of the corridor.  Arthur gingerly followed me as I boldly set off towards the kitchens.  Experience had told me, no one questioned those who looked like they were meant to be there.  Most of the time it worked until they recognise you and remember they sent you away before and wondered why it was you were there again or not doing what they asked in the first place!  As we travelled on I noticed the narrow window slits in the many walls were letting in sunlight across our path and that daybreak had finally come.

             
Arriving at the kitchens was like approaching an enemy onslaught at the height of battle.  People, cups, plates, legs, arms rushed around a large central table and battled against each other.  You did well to avoid being burned by steaming pots or caught by protruding forks and knives.  There was a mix of pleasant cooking that was tainted with the odour of sweat, dirt and yelling of the cooks all in the single inhale of breath.  Arthur and I edged around the chaos to a quiet corner of the big room, having expertly seized some food pickings.  Backs to the wall the Arthur followed my indication to drop the floor and we sat as unnoticed as you can be in plain sight.  A chuck of cheese, not so stale beard and even an apple each represented a successful hunt.

             
“We will have to find something to drink as well in while.” I offered with my mouth full. 

             
The voices of the kitchens continued around us, but we enjoyed some breathing space within the eye of the storm.   

             
“Is it always this busy?” Arthur asked between mouthfuls.

             
“No, but it’s not often you come your majestic almightiness.” I sniggered once more at Arthur’s expense. 

             
“Shut up, I mean it, just, just shut up” Arthur responded aggregately, but not with anger.  He was at once crestfallen again and went on to say.  “I am in so much trouble.” 

             
At once I felt guilty.  The truth was that I had no idea what was going on and it turned out nor did he, despite being the centre of it.  It was just some old sword, what was the harm?  Not that this mattered as I also knew the absence of harm mattered little if you found yourself in the wrong place and at the wrong time.  Even if you were in right place and time, yet someone above you decides you were not, it was never a good situation to be in.  If asked, I would have to admit I was glad not to be in his shoes.  I was beginning to suspect that I was taking a risk to be found in the same place he occupied, but it was not often someone was trying to make you a king and I was a little intrigued.   

             
I tried to be positive, again.  “Look, you and I just walked passed lots and lots of people and no one knew or cared who you are.  They’ll work it all out in the end and have probably forgotten about you already.  Briant was it?  He seemed to be under the impression he and you had been forgotten and wasn’t sticking around.  So what if the sword was meant for some king, they will take the rusted thing and perhaps have a competition for it or something.  It all sounds like a big mistake to me or even a poor joke.  It’ll just be a case of working out who to give it to, or something like that.”  I assured him, and then hoped he might tell me a little more now.  “What actually happened after you took the sword?”

             
Arthur sighed and took a bite of an apple before deciding to tell me.  “I took it to Kay, who said it was worst than useless given the state of it, but shortly after my father came back at last and he found it really interesting.”

             
“Interesting?”

             
“Not in a good way.  He seemed more shocked by it than anything and he took the sword with him out of the tent and moments later rushed back pulling me and Kay back over to the rocks.  The same ones I had found it.  Some other knights had come along as well and they put the sword back and made me take it out again.  Then some of them tried to do the same and couldn’t.  It started to get a bit tense between them, shouting broke out and a bit commotion.  Before I understood the problem my father told me to take the sword and Kay then rushed me over to the horses.  A group of us then travelled together, others joined on route and we came to here.  It took a while, my hands still hurt from all the riding.  Yet so far all I have seen is stables, the room and now the kitchens.”

             
“Oh.” I said, now not as convinced that the whole king and sword thing was so much as nothing, but to disguise my sudden doubt I continued to ask, “Who’s your Father?”

             
“His name is Ector.” Arthur answered, but saw through my troubled expression.  “See you’re not so sure now are you!”

             
I ignored him as I thought about the name and I was pulling a face because I knew it from somewhere.

             
“No, no it’s that I know that name, I’m sure I do,” I pushed my head against the cold wall behind me, it didn’t help, “Can’t think where, ah, I can’t remember, but I know it I’m sure.” I exclaimed in frustration that the name was ringing a bell, but I could not remember where from. 

             
Arthur continued almost eager now for me to share his problems.  “We made it here, this morning, well last night maybe, and then to the room.  My father disappeared to talk to some people leaving me with Sir Briant, saying he would send for me later.  I have never seen him look so mad, my father that is.”  Arthur paused for a while and I took a chance to finish eating as well before he went on.  “You are right none of these people know me and no one is going to care, but when they sort it out I doubt it’ll be good for me.  And what about that crowd outside, I think they think a new king as arrived, being me!”

             
“I don’t know, I was, err, late.”  I admitted a little distracted, “Didn’t stop to ask when I went by them earlier.  Look, I still don’t think you can be a king just by picking up some old sword though.”  I pulled myself up and offered a hand up for Arthur.  “Come on Art let’s see about a drink.”