My father leveled his dark gaze at the king that he so respected. There was truly nothing to say, for Arthur was right. While here in Camelot, my mother was his wife.
Both she and Lancelot had disrespected her vows and the king.
Lancelot lowered his sword and dropped his head.
"I beg your forgiveness, your highness," he said. "You are correct. I have wronged you in a most grievous way."
"But it was not his fault!" a clear voice rang out.
Turning in surprise, I found Morgan, her skirts fluttering in the wind around her legs, facing the king behind us.
"It was I," she continued, "Who bewitched your trusted knight and your wife. It is I who has done this wretched thing to you, my brother."
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd and I found myself overwhelmed by confusion. What was Eris doing?
"Can this be true?" Arthur asked and I could see on his face that he would give anything to make it so. Morgan nodded without hesitation.
"It is true, brother. I beg your forgiveness and will do anything to repay you for my transgressions. I have been horrendous to you of late, as you know. I beg you to forgive me. But even if you cannot, please do not hold Lancelot and the queen accountable. They could not help their actions. My magic is powerful."
Arthur stared at her sharply, his thoughts evident on his face. He believed her and he lowered his lance.
As he did, Mordred spoke from behind.
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"Your highness, your sister has admitted to using witchery. How can we trust her?
She is most likely lying to you."
The king didn’t turn, but spoke with his gaze frozen lovingly on my mother.
"Do you think I do not know my sister, good knight? I know her character and her heart. She speaks the truth."
Arthur slid from his horse and strode toward my mother, his face flooded with love. He paused for just a moment where Lancelot knelt, placing his hand silently on his knight’s shoulder. Then he continued, quickly crossing the field.
"Guinevere, I am sorry that I doubted you," he called as he approached. "I will never doubt you again."
"Because you are a fool!" Mordred snarled from behind him, leaping from his horse and lunging toward Arthur with his sword drawn.
Arthur whirled, surprise freezing his handsome features and he barely had time to draw his own sword in order to defend himself. His knights quickly approached, flying to their king’s aid, but I froze as I saw the horizon.
Lines and lines of mounted Saxons were poised and ready to ride toward us.
"What the…" I breathed. My mother gripped my hand tightly as we watched the riders approach.
"Saxons," my mother said quietly. "Mordred must have bought them to topple Arthur. Mordred knew he could never turn the Roundtable knights, so he went outside of the kingdom."
A split moment later, Mordred confirmed her theory.
"Gunner," Mordred called to one of them with a menacing smile. "You are very timely. Kill them all!"
The Saxon mercenary grinned in response, a menacing gesture that stilled my heart.
He would have been handsome, with sandy blonde hair and hazel eyes, but his cold calculation only made him deadly instead. He pushed into the knights swinging two swords at once.
Once again, mortal combat broke out around us. My mother and I stared at each other helplessly as we moved to the perimeter of the field. We weren’t sure what to do.
This battle was meant to take place and we had already seen what changing time could do.
We stood still, watching the bloody men fighting in front of us. I watched Lucan fighting a Saxon and took a step toward him.
"No," my mother cautioned. "You know you cannot."
I froze in place, my heart numb as I watched the Saxon swing a mace into Lucan’s leg. I cried out and gripped my mother’s arm tightly.
"I cannot stand here and do nothing!" I cried. "This is impossible."
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Lucan crumbled to the ground, but as the Saxon swung his sword for a death blow, Lucan blocked it with his own.
"Lucan won’t die by the Saxon’s hand," my mother said knowingly. And he didn’t.
He fought the Saxon off and plunged his sword into the Saxon’s heart before staggered into Bedivere. Bedivere wrapped his arm around Lucan’s shoulders and helped him walk as they limped toward Arthur and Mordred.
Arthur and Mordred were fighting hand to hand. Arthur had shed his cloaks and he stood facing his nephew in a shirt and trousers. He already had a thin line of blood on his shoulder where Mordred had sliced him.
"Heleyne," Arthur called. "Is my wife alright?"
I startled. I couldn’t believe that he would take his focus from his adversary to ask such a question.
"She is fine, your highness," I answered limply.
"Too bad we cannot say the same for you," Mordred sneered and he plunged his sword once more into Arthur’s shoulder, bringing his uncle to his knees with a shout.
Arthur wrenched away in time for Kay to intercept Mordred’s next blow, returning it with equal force and sliding his sword smoothly under Mordred’s ribcage.
"Ah, Kay the dependable," Arthur said gratefully. "Thank you, my brother."
Kay nodded, switching his sword from hand to hand as he faced Mordred.
"If you want another swipe at my brother," he growled. "You will have to come through me."
"Gladly," Mordred sneered and he motioned his army of Saxons forward.
Gunner, the lead mercenary, charged forward and plunged his sword into Kay’s thigh. With a groan, Kay dropped to the ground and I heard a loud crunching noise as the large Saxon withdrew his sword. I cringed. That noise was Kay’s split thigh bone.
Every knight was preoccupied defending their lives against the Saxons and there was not one left who was available to protect Kay in his injured state.
Gunner planted a thick boot into Kay’s chest , knocking him over and as Kay lay heaving for breath, Gunner brought his foot forcefully down into Kay’s skull. I heard a loud crack and Kay lay limply, his eyes sightlessly staring straight ahead.
A tear slipped down my cheek. There wasn’t a thing I could do about these atrocities. These were man-made and I couldn’t interfere, but they were ripping my heart from my chest.
With Kay out of the way, Mordred advanced once more on Arthur. As Arthur lunged forward, Mordred tripped him and Arthur stumbled. Using the momentum, Mordred plunged his thick sword into Arthur’s back. Arthur cried out, a horrible cry of agony, before whirling and embedding his own sword into Mordred’s side. Blood gushed and Mordred twisted away, crawling toward the hilltop.