Chapter Forty-Three
Forty-Three
So it came to be that the traitors of the land conspired to take Sir Bridget and make flight, and made mockery of her because they were cowards, and proclaimed they would smite her in front of the people of the land, and she could have easily taken all of them actually, if they hadn’t been so sneaky about it and had met her in a fair fight, the bastards, but of course their type never would Goddammit
—FROM AN EARLY DRAFT OF THE QUESTS OF KING GAbrIEL AND HIS ROUND TABLE BY SIR FLORIAN ARDEN
Gabriel had never been more glad in his life that he and Arthur were back on touching terms. His heart had still been racing when he’d lain down to go to bed; Arthur, who had actually listened to Sidney for once and stayed mostly out of the fighting, had stayed with him without either of them having to say a word about it.
They’d lain quietly on their sides, watching the fire until they fell asleep.
In the morning, Gabriel went downstairs expecting to find the mood subdued—and instead walked into a scene that made no earthly sense.
Florian was standing at one end of the table, the blood drained from his face, horrified. Sir Hurst was standing at the other, a wad of parchment in his hand. As Gabriel entered, he threw it down onto the table, and turned to Gabriel practically spitting fire.
“Your Majesty, I’m sorry to say that Sir Florian has been conspiring against you.”
“You— What?” Gabriel said, blinking back at him, utterly confused.
Adah, Leonard, and Bowen had obviously been sitting around the table when this accusation originally detonated, because their breakfasts lay abandoned, and they were all on their feet.
“It is yet to be determined whether he had something to do with what happened yesterday,” said Sir Hurst, “but when we searched his room—”
“You did what?” Gabriel said sharply. “Why would you do a thing like that?”
“It’s a good thing we did,” said Sir Hurst, “because we found, in writing, his intention to put his own son on the throne.” He picked up the parchment and showed it to Gabriel.
It seemed to be some sort of journal entry, not as formal as the ones he’d been writing to document their questing; this one was more personal.
From the few sentences Gabriel was able to read quickly, it seemed Florian was arguing with himself over the potential pros and cons of Galahad as heir.
“I tried to tell him, Gabriel,” Florian started, but Sir Hurst cut him off.
“You will address him as Your Majesty. In fact—you should not be addressing him at all.”
“Hold on!” Arthur had apparently been lingering on the stairs, listening; he burst into the room so violently that the momentum carried him almost all the way to Florian’s side.
“Sorry, but no. We’re not doing this again.
Why does everybody around here always think perfectly nice people are betraying them? Whatever happened to communication?”
“Your father was betraying us,” shouted Sir Hurst. “And the king had every right to—”
“You sent Florian out there without a sword! This whole trip! Even yesterday, we were running headlong into danger and you wouldn’t even—”
“Thank you, Arthur,” Gabriel interjected. “Please sit down, Sir Hurst. And let me explain.”
“Well,” Arthur said peevishly. “Exactly. If everybody just listened to each other, we wouldn’t have any more of these ridiculous misunderstandings.”
Gabriel explained, and Sir Hurst’s posture went from upright and indignant to slightly wilted.
“I apologize for … bothering you with this,” he said stiffly, once Gabriel was finished—but he was talking to Gabriel, not Sir Florian.
“I’m not the one who deserves an apology.”
Sir Hurst nodded sharply, then turned to Sir Florian, gave him a brief and very stiff “Sorry.”
“And, Sir Hurst? Give him back his sword.”
“Thanks,” Florian said shakily, sitting down as Sir Hurst marched from the room. “I tried to explain, but…”
“It’s not your fault,” Arthur said indignantly. Then he sat down too, and took a piece of bread from Sir Leonard’s plate. “Now you’re really in my innocent accused-traitors club. There’s only two of us, but I’m sure we’ll have plenty to say about it.”
“I’ll dismiss him, Florian,” Gabriel said quietly. “If you want. I mean it. He’s been a good Captain of the Guard, and my father was very close with him, but … we’re not in a position to be making enemies of our friends.”
Florian shook his head. “No, please. I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I knew he’d lost his job over me.”
“That’s where you and I differ,” said Arthur. “And perhaps we can argue about it, at the meetings for our club.”
Gabriel looked around at his knights. The events of the previous day had left him feeling like they were standing once again at a crossroads—danger ahead, last chance to turn back.
Before, he might have dismissed his concerns as cowardice, but he felt sure now that the decisions of the future weren’t only his to make.
“I want us all to meet,” he said, addressing the room. “Tomorrow, once we’ve rested, on the beach. There’s something we need to discuss.”
It was the first time in his life he’d actually requested a meeting. He hoped he wasn’t going to make a habit of it.
He checked on Gwen, found her bed empty, then opened Bridget’s door a crack and saw that the two of them were asleep. Good. They needed it. He’d never been more impressed by his sister than the moment she’d stepped up to defend Bridget with her sword; it had made him feel a little braver too.
The next morning he breakfasted slowly, and then he and Arthur pulled on warmer things—strange, lumpy knitwear from Gabriel’s mother and winter-weight cloaks—and went down to the beach early, walking slowly; there were a few people who could have seen them there—passing travelers, the staff at the inn—but he linked his arm with Arthur’s anyway.
“You were very brave,” Arthur said. “You even shouted at people. I liked that.”
“Hmm,” said Gabriel. He’d also been a bit sick afterward, but Arthur was kind enough not to bring that up.
“You know, there’ve only been a few times since I took the throne that I’ve felt I’m doing something …
right. And then later, I panic and I worry, and I don’t know why.
I don’t know why I can’t just trust that first feeling. ”
“Probably because you have good instincts,” said Arthur. “But you live in a world that’s not quite ready for them yet.”
“Maybe,” said Gabriel. “But then, isn’t it my job to make them ready?”
“Drag them kicking and screaming, you mean?” said Arthur.
“I mean, yes. I think so. I think that’s the whole point of all of this, especially for someone like you.
To make people’s lives better. To change things for the good, even if it’s hard.
And to accept that some people are really, really going to hate you for it. ”
They were following the drift line, crunching over broken shells and chunks of wood and thick, wet snarls of seaweed. Gabriel would have been perfectly happy to stay here forever, but eventually they were going to run out of beach.
“It feels dangerous,” Gabriel said. “And … not to sound like a horrible coward, but I’ve spent my life trying to avoid trouble. Especially since last year.”
“It is dangerous,” said Arthur. “But d’you want to die old in your bed in your nice slippers, knowing you had the power to change the world and hid in your library instead, or do you want to take a risk, and die handsome and valiant in the pursuit of something noble?”
“Ideally I’d like to die in the library,” Gabriel posited hopefully. Arthur laughed.
“I’m sure that can be arranged.” His expression turned serious, and he stopped walking.
“I think … you’ve already half done it. Your reforms. Now you just need to see it through.
What you said yesterday—that we won’t back down or whatever it was, I really did enjoy it, even if the wording didn’t stick in my mind—it needs to be true. ”
Gabriel sighed. “It’s very humbling for me that you’ve become so wise. I sort of hate it.”
“No you don’t,” Arthur said. “I’m afraid you find it dashing. Before, I was simply an attractive and entertaining addition to any room, like a pedigree dog or a well-placed lantern; now, I’m the whole package.”
“Mmm. You were always too loud to be purely decorative.”
“And thank God,” said Arthur, “or we’d never have spoken at all.”
Gabriel drew him nearer, so that when his lips moved, they brushed against his forehead. “And you were always clever.”
“Wellll,” Arthur said, “I don’t know about always. That might be over-egging the—”
Gabriel kissed him, smiling, and Arthur’s arms slid up around Gabriel’s neck as he kissed him back.
Arthur, the sky, the sea. In another life, perhaps he’d have been allowed peace like this all the time.
He could close his eyes for a moment and pretend.
Imagine that they had all day, all week, to do nothing but walk and kiss and talk, and hold each other under the blankets at night, and remember how to be loved again.
Not in this life. But Arthur was here, and that was the part that mattered.
“I didn’t know this was one of those kinds of beaches,” Sidney shouted from the near distance, and they abruptly stopped kissing.
The others were arriving. Sir Hurst may not have been opposed to same-gender romance, but he did seem to find all displays of affection extremely upsetting, with a little extra offense when it was between a sworn knight of the realm and a member of the royal family.
The archbishop had clearly decided not to comment at all.
“What kind of beach?” Arthur yelled back.
“Oh, you know,” said Sidney. “And don’t even try to pretend you don’t.”
“Sidney Fitzgilbert,” said a familiar voice. “Don’t make me regret the moment we made you a knight.”
Lady Oakley was striding toward them, clad in riding clothes, her hair slightly unkempt and therefore the messiest Gabriel had ever seen it.