Chapter 54
Fifty-Four
How?”
I touched his face, still unsure if he was an apparition, a figment. His hair was longer. His eyes more sunken. But otherwise, he was the same.
We were sitting by the hearth at Castle Malaot, the closest allied structure near the bluffs. Galehaut had convinced his army to stand down under one condition: a night alone with me.
“I… I do not know,” he said. His shock and confusion matched my own. “I didn’t know anything. And then I saw you across the bluff. And it all came back.”
He took a sip of his drink. He was shaking. “They’re gone, aren’t they? I remember now.”
“Who?”
“My family.” He looked to the fire, afraid to receive the confirmation head-on.
“Galehaut, I’m so sorry.” I reached for his arm but he pulled away.
“It was Brunor.” His voice surged with anger. “He killed them. And then he tried to kill me. I remember falling out a window. I thought I was dead. And then… I wasn’t.”
“Brunor is gone now,” I tried to assure him. “He died that day, too. Everyone thought you died as well.”
He turned to me, eyes watery with grief and rage and something else. He grabbed my hands.
“You thought I was dead?”
“We all did. Merlin told us.”
“Merlin?” He jumped up, started pacing around. “How did Merlin know?”
I told him about that night on the beach, the fox.
“He was on his way to Ireland, when—”
“Ireland.” Galehaut grabbed the arm of his chair. “That’s where I woke up.”
His lip was twitching. I could tell his mind was racing.
“How is that possible? And how did you get from Ireland to Cornwall and wind up in King Mark’s army?”
Galehaut closed his eyes and tears pressed out.
“Oh, Galehaut.”
He sat back down and grabbed my hands. “I didn’t know to miss you.”
“It will be all right.”
“I miss you now.”
I missed him now, too.
We talked into the night, slowly piecing together his story. He wiped away his tears, but mine kept falling.
“Why must you cry so much?” he said, laughing.
He had no point of reference for my grief. Even the news of his family did not strike him with the same weight it might have. For nearly a year he had lived without memory.
“I came to in a field, in the center of a stone circle,” he said.
“I was lying on my back and when I opened my eyes a young woman was hovering over me. She brought me to her cottage and nursed me back to health. But I had no knowledge of who I was, how I was injured or why I was in an Irish field. A few months passed under her care. Her name was Isolde and she was an exceptional healer. She was betrothed to King Mark, but had never met him and did not want to leave Ireland. That’s when Tristan arrived, Mark’s nephew.
He had received an order from his uncle to escort Isolde to Cornwall.
Tristan and Isolde were secretly in love. I feel bad for them both.
“I was practicing my sword work behind the cottage—I somehow still had my skills. When Tristan saw me, he asked to spar. I disarmed him again and again. And he got an idea. He would stay longer, buying more time alone with Isolde. To make up for the delay he would bring me back with him, to lead Mark’s army.
It would make Isolde happy, so I agreed. ”
“And when you arrived in Cornwall, King Mark sent you to attack Camelot,” I said.
“I had no real sense of what was happening, no memory of you or the sisterhood or what Camelot stood for. Seeing you brought it all back. All at once. I feel as if I’ve just woken up from a long dream.”
“So do I.”
“It must have been Merlin,” he said. “He must’ve taken me to Ireland and erased my memory. But why?”
Deep in my soul I knew exactly why Merlin had done this to Galehaut.
“To keep us apart.”
“But why?” he asked again.
“Because of the prophecy. He believes I am the one to restore the grail. He knew if we were together, I would not have gone to Camelot. And if I did not go to Camelot, I would not be in a position to restore it.”
He looked at me, confused. “You are the one to restore the grail?”
We had so much to talk through. So much he didn’t know or understand. Somehow, with the help of Yvain and Morien and Guinevere I’d managed to emerge from the abyss of my mourning. I had built a life for myself, pushed through the daily cudgels of grief. I stretched. I reached. I found Gawain.
But now I was pulled between two worlds.
On the bluffs I had jumped off my horse, sprinted straight to Galehaut.
I’d thrown my arms around him and did not turn back.
When Arthur realized who Galehaut was, he readily agreed to his terms. But I could not bear to look at Gawain. I had not explained, nor tried to.
I couldn’t tell Galehaut any of this. I feared that if I said the wrong thing, he might once again disappear.
“Lancelot.” He pulled me back to the present. “Look at me.”
With the gentlest touch, he grabbed my chin. “I’m back now. I found you. I’m never leaving your side again.”
“Arthur will knight you,” I said. “He’ll knight you and Tristan if you agree to disavow Mark and ride for Camelot.”
“I will,” Galehaut said. “I will without question.”
“And Tristan?”
He laughed. “Tristan will do whatever Isolde tells him.”
“Then it is settled,” I said.
“Our lives can begin,” he said. “Our adventures will take place here.”
He drew me in for a deep kiss, the memories flooding back. For a moment we were on the Isle of Women, standing in the lake, incandescent in the moonlight.
Were I lying down, such a kiss would have sunk me low into the pillow, buried me in the press of its absorption, obliterating all other thoughts.
But the way we were sitting, I felt the air thread between us.
How to tell him my life had already begun. Without him.