The Black Chalice

Fifty-One

"Kneel, lad," Alymere recognised the voice, and for a moment thought it was another hallucination. He turned to see Sir Bors de Ganis place a meaty hand on his shoulder. The knight smiled reassuringly, as though their fight of a few days before was forgiven, or at least forgotten. Perhaps it was. Still, his presence unnerved Alymere; he had not allowed for it. He sank to one knee and lowered his head, thinking desperately. Did the knight's presence at Camelot change things? Had he come looking to stop Alymere from fulfilling his destiny? He looked up at Bors. There was pride in his face, not anger. He had no intention of stopping the ceremony. Far from it, he was here to watch Alymere fulfil his destiny. Despite the arguments, despite the harsh words and threats, two years and a day from when they had first met, here on this open field, Bors had returned to watch Alymere be knighted. He was the closest thing the young man had to family.

If he hadn't sensed the threat the big man posed, Alymere might have been touched by such loyalty.

As it was, he hated the big man. He would be the first to die.

Second, he amended. Arthur would be the first; in just a few moments they would toast his triumph together, and the screaming and dying would begin. But first he had to mouth useless platitudes and empty promises.

Bors stepped aside to make room for the king.

Alymere looked around at all of the expectant faces.

Arthur held Excalibur, the tip of the great blade piercing the ground between his feet. He braced both of his hands on the cross-guard. The king smiled broadly at him. "Do you recall the code?"

"I do, my liege," Alymere said. Oh, I do, I do, the voice inside crooned expectantly.

"Good, for on this hallowed night, and in the presence of all Camelot, beneath the skies of God, I would hear you swear to uphold it."

"I swear to uphold the honour of Albion, my liege."

Arthur nodded. "With these words you will not only become a true man, but a Knight of Albion. Think on, before you speak. These are no rash promises you make tonight; you will bind yourself to me, and to Camelot, for the rest of your days. Now, Alymere son of Roth, tell me, do you swear to hold life sacred above all else?"

"I do so swear," Alymere said, releasing the breath he hadn't known he was holding.

"Do you swear that treason shall have no place in your heart, and that you will honour and serve the will of Camelot above all others?"

"I do so swear," Alymere said.

"Do you swear that you will offer mercy to all deserving of it?"

"I do so swear."

"Do you swear that you will offer succour to those in need if it is yours to offer?"

"I do so swear," the words came easily to him now.

"Do you swear never to take up arms in wrongful quarrels for love or worldly goods?"

"I do so swear."

"Do you swear never to stand by idly whilst such evils are perpetrated by others upon the weak and innocent?"

"I do so swear."

"And do you so swear to be noble, worshipful and just in all things?"

"I do so swear," Alymere concluded, the lie tripping easily off his tongue.

The king raised Excalibur. "I will hold you to this oath, Alymere, for now you are no longer the son of Roth, but a Knight of Albion, witnessed before all here present. Serve your king and your country well, Sir Knight." He touched the blade first to Alymere's right shoulder, then to his left, and bade him, "Arise, Sir Alymere."

The applause was rapturous, heady. He breathed it in. They loved him. He closed his eyes, savouring it for a moment more before he stood. He rose slowly, and turned to summon the boy, but before he could, the king clapped him on the back and put an arm around his shoulder. "I think it only fitting that your first duty as my knight should be to save the fair maiden. What say you?" he called out to the gathering, who met his question with a roar of approval. "Go, Sir Alymere, cut the Queen free from her prison."

"But our toast? The Chalice?" Alymere hated the way he sounded, like a whining child, but the words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

"There will be time enough for that later, Sir Knight. The night is still young. Right now there is a damsel in need of saving. And what sort of man would my newest knight be if he left her trussed up like some prize pig? Besides, it is customary for the hero to claim a kiss, is it not?" Arthur offered a crooked smile.

Alymere had no choice but to cut her down. He couldn't force the king to drink.

Once again his hand moved to touch the linen favour tied around his arm, and he pulled it away sharply. The boy took the sudden motion to be his signal and came scurrying forward with the Chalice clutched in both hands.