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The Sword of Mordred: Part X
- The Sword of Mordred: Part X -
When Arthur returned to Ynys Prydain, he did so at the head of an army nearly equal in size to that of the forces that would be arrayed against him once he realized that his kingdom had been usurped during his absence. He did not go straight to Camelot at first but journeyed north a bit, near to Hadrian's Wall... and there he did raid the border of one of the northern kingdoms. He attempted to steal cattle and varied other goods in order to acquire meat and supplies to support his army... which was running low by then. As the reports came to me in Camelot regarding the situation at Hadrian's Wall, it became obvious that now was the time to prepare for dealing with the former High King once and for all. I decided to wait at present rather than send a force to the wall to deal with Arthur straight away. This had the feel of a trap to it and I knew my father's cunning all too well for I had inherited no small degree of it myself. Instead I took the time to order all of my military forces across the land to make ready and be prepared in case I needed to call upon them. For I knew I would have to quite soon, since following his raid in the north... Arthur would surely journey south, believing that he would be welcome in Camelot. The idea I had was to allow him to actually get as far as the outskirts of Camelot itself, before surrounding his army and so proceeding to wipe it out entirely. From the reports that arrived from the wall, it was easy to determine, roughly, the approximate size of the army that Arthur now had. This made it a simple matter to have a far larger force than his laying in wait around and about the area where he was have to pass to actually enter Camelot. The fortress of Camelot proper sat upon Cadbury Hill, and of old the kingdom of Arthur had been known as Logres, before the fame of Camelot spread wide enough that the name became more used than Logres in reference to my father's kingdom. There was a great city that had been built up over the years all around and about that hill, and the city too came to be called Camelot. It was all of this that I had seized when I led my army to Camelot from the north. It was the city outskirts where I planned to set my trap, for a single road led into the city and I knew that this would be the road that my father had to travel along... especially so great an army following him... in order to reach the city. He was likely to be expecting a tremendous welcome for a beloved king. He would receive a welcome, only it would be not the one that he imagined! It was on an early foggy morning when Arthur and his army reached fully within sight of Camelot city. The day previous it had rained and the weather had been quite miserable... leaving the road a muddy mess. This slowed Arthur's progress more than it otherwise should have, and that would give my forces the advantage in taking him by surprise. All of his knights were with him as well as his soldiers, so that should we win this battle it would prove to be a decisive victory. Only one thing was a problem! The fog made visibility quite poor, so we would have to rely on our numbers in a hope of overwhelming Arthur quickly... since should things become too confused it could be a bit easy for Arthur to slip away during the confusion. Unfortunately something like that is what ended up very much happening. Once my soldiers fell upon Arthur and his knights and soldiers, the battle became a confused mess due to the lack of proper visibility. I was wise not to employ a larger force, because all too quickly there were casualties on both sides that made it needful for both to withdraw from the road. My forces made for the gates of the city and they blocked the way so that Arthur could not enter it even with such an army as he had. Fro waiting behind the city gates was a second force that I ordered to thus stand by in order to ensure that Arthur would not be able to take Camelot. He recognized this, at once... and so, he did order his men to retreat whilst I sent a small scouting party to spy upon my father and so learn where it was that he planned to actually retreat to. He was making for Cornwall... and made camp at the river Camel there, where he seemed content to remain for as long as he could in order to regroup and recover after the disastrous battle outside of Camelot city. From what the scouts said, they were of the belief that Arthur could be attempting to build some crude fortifications there in order to use it as a base of some kind. Knowing that we had some time, I decided to wait until the weather was at least of a sort that would make battle less hazardous and uncertain. I sent out the call, for all of my armed forces.
I amassed my entire combined army at Camelot, and upon the next clear day thereafter, I led them out towards Cornwall with as much haste as we could manage with hosts so vast in numbers. Before setting forth... I had some priestesses from Avalon come to escort Caitlin to safety, and so they took her back to Avalon with them. As for my two sons, Melehan and Menehir... they remained in the Orkney islands in the custody of the people, who were family, whom I had left in charge of that domain when I had made my journey south from there. With all of my loved ones, and my children, accounted for I had no need to fear for them during the battle to come... which allowed me to devote my attention entirely to seeing that we actually won this time. We could not allow Arthur to escape a second time, lest he flee perhaps to Ireland and out of our reach wholly. I did not like his strategy, either, it seemed strange that he might choose so remote a place to fortify... but because it was just such a peculiar location it made a kind of bizarre sense. It was the sort of place no one would normally choose to mount a defense, and he likely had some surprises in store for us upon our arrival. The only thing that worried me, was how little we knew of what he was doing aside from building fortifications. But the scouts had done their best and I had no way of being better prepared than I already was for whatever awaited us. Thus it was that at the head of my army, I rode for Cornwall and had a sudden frightful premonition that this was going to be my very last battle. By that battle's end, either Arthur or I would be dead and the fate of Camelot would be decided in the favor of either my father or myself. The ride was long, and took days to get where we needed to. The weather held up at least, and it did not rain, nor did any fog or mist roll in, which I was most grateful for. A repeat of the previous disaster was not what anyone needed. We got within sight of the river, and passed by thick woods, forests, and somewhat marshy terrain as we journeyed toward the direction that the scouts reported as being the site of Arthur's war camp. There were wide open stretches that I feared would leave us too exposed, and so we kept to the outskirts of the woodlands always, and thus was it quite slow to maneuver. Yet we managed to reach close to our goal without being spotted... for there was a good deal of wind on that day, at least at that present time, which would make it harder to hear us coming. I send a single scout ahead once we got within the vicinity of Arthur's location and I waited to hear back from her before deciding how best to proceed. In the meantime, we made camp in the woods, and avoided lighting any fires not only because in the woods that could be dangerous but so also because I had no desire for Arthur to spot where we ourselves were. I planned to establish a camp in a less difficult location after we knew exactly where the enemy camp was. The scout returned quite quickly, and told us so precisely where my father was. His camp was in a clear stretch a the very edge of the river just beyond the woods to the northwest. I decided to choose, for our new camp's location, a similar sort of area that lay to the southeast. Once we established that camp, which was as expected so outside the woods, I decided it was time to lead my army through the woods where we would pour out and fall upon Arthur's camp. He was watching the river, the scout said, and would not anticipate that we would choose to attack from the forest rather than a more open location fit for a large army. But, one of the best Saxon strategies involved hiding one's true numbers within a wooded area to make it seem as if one had a much smaller force by far. This would lull the enemy into a false sense of security so that as the full army poured out of the woods... it would take the fore totally by surprise and sometimes cause a drop in their morale that often could prove to be a deciding factor in winning such a battle. The Saxons in my army knew that I was planning to use this very strategy, and they themselves were masters of it. I gave the order, and it went pretty much as expected. First a small force emerged from the woods, and it harried Arthur's camp, turning his attention in the direction of only that small force. He sent a bit of a larger force out to deal with them, only to have that force be overwhelmed by a force of ours that was a great deal larger that next emerged from out of the forest. I could hear one of my father's men who was screaming quite loudly: “Saxons! My king, there are Saxons attacking from the woods!” But it was too late for the warning to do any good. All of my forces emerged, at once, and fell upon my father's camp.
Arthur had yet to put up any wooden stakes around his camp... though we had added such around our own... and so there was nothing to deter our horsemen from riding forth and attacking, which they did. Someone on Arthur's side cried out: “They are not just Saxons, but fighting folk of the Orkney islands as well! This has to be Mordred's army! Get the defenses ready, quickly.” And a rather large number of enemy soldiers came forward with large, long metal shields. They formed a phalanx formation and did produce spears and lances that made short work of many of our horsemen. I called for the horsemen to retreat, and had my archers fire flaming arrows tipped with flammable... but fragile... containers that as they struck the phalanx caused the man struck to catch on fire, which broke their formation as they ran about screaming and burning. The smell of their burning flesh was sickening, and I tried to put it out of my mind so it would not nauseate me too much. After that, my own lancers moved in to clash with the remnants of the phalanx soldiers, and it was now an even battle between them. The infantry units ran forth next, and my regular warriors met them on the field of battle. Now, fully, the battle was joined... and my father's strategies were foiled for the time being. Horsemen faced horsemen whilst the sound of blades falling upon armor and shields filled the air, along with the cries and shrieks of dying soldiers. It was the closest thing to a true hell that one could ever imagine, a battlefield such a this! This was not as the tales of later history claimed, a romantic and chivalrous clash between valiant knights and their evil foes. I was no more wholly evil than my father, and he was no more totally good than I was. I realized, at last, that I was very much my father's child and upon understanding this it pained me that I now had to face him and slay him. I wondered at all the events that led up to this day, none of which could ever have been avoided. I gazed at Arthur across the field and I realized perhaps for the first time just how... very much... I resembled him. Only whereas my skin was chalk white, his was normal in tone, and his hair was now a graying light reddish brown. I had his eyes, and his nose. Time had made us both a good deal less great, than once we had been. My father was leaner and a lot skinnier than I remembered... and I had gained a slight bit more weight during my time as High King. He noticed me in that same instant when I noticed him, and he cried out towards me: “Why did it have to come to this, Mordred? I recall a time when you served me so very well! Now, we stand as enemies. And for what? I know not anymore! Come then, my hell spawned son... let us see who is best fit to rule this land after all.” But I ignored his challenge, since he was still surrounded by his knights, and among them was my brother Gawain in his full armor. Arthur too wore full armor for this occasion, as did I and all of my forces for that matter. It was Gawain who ran out to face me. We had both abandoned our horses and rushed forward on foot to fight. My brother held a large ax clutched in both of his hands, and I held the white sword Albion in my right hand, with a round shield of medium size carried in my left hand. His swings were clumsy and it was easy to dodge them all. He still suffered from the wound that Llwch Lleminawg had given him and I saw that he struggled not to let this show. “You are no brother of mine, traitor!” he hissed as he struck at me again and again, unable to contain his fury. His face was red with rage, but his breathing was fast becoming quite labored. “I have no wish to slay you, Gawain!” I said, adding: “But if you keep at me in this way, I fear that you will only succeed in destroying yourself.” He growled at me like an animal, at last screaming: “I need no pity from the likes of you, filth!” He was not my brother any longer. He was not the man I had once looked up to. He had become a person I no longer recognized, nor wished to. I fought him without holding back, and soon he began to tire. I saw him begin to bleed but it was not at all from anything I did to him... it was the wound that Llwch had given him, reopening. “Gawain! How is it that you have reopened your wound? Stop at once... lest you perish!” He then said unto me in a sad and resigned tone, pausing in order to tell me all that he needed to: “I reopened it previously during the campaign Arthur undertook on the continent. My days have been numbered ever since. I fear that I can fight you no longer, Mordred. So... let us make peace at last... for I am dying...” and suddenly he fell to the ground and bled out profusely. I wept for him, crying out his name as he died in my arms, forgiven.
Someone screamed out: “Mordred, has slain Gawain! Rally the knights, rally the knights!” to which I cried out in answer: “I slew him not! He died of his old wound which Arthur's champion gave him first of all. He was my brother! These tears I cry now, are for him.” And I charged at the man who said that about me and sliced off his head with my sword. There was no way to halt the madness that ensured as the battle raged on further. I lost track of how many knights perished, and which ones did or did not fall before my forces... the battle at the river Camel was a horrible one, and it finally broke the brotherhood of the Round Table irrevocably. Whatever happened following this day, nothing would ever be quite the same again... which disturbed me greatly. Both sides were suffering uncountable losses, and ere long it was that the Saxons were forced to retreat from the field lest they be wholly slaughtered. This left only the folk of the Orkney islands to continue the fight. On Arthur's side, I saw few knights remaining and a vastly diminished army overall. Due to his own losses, our forces had become equal. I could not fault at all the Saxons for fleeing... had I any sense, I would have fled too. But because I lacked that good sense I remained to keep pressing my remaining army against what was left of Arthur's. It was insane, but if it be that we did not finish things here and now, then all that I had endured up to this point would have in all truth been for nothing. I was tired of fleeing from my father! Perhaps it was time to face him at least one final time, I thought to myself. “Father!” I cried out. “Where are you, in all this chaos?” all around me, were masses of armed and armored men and women, screaming and clashing, the sounds of metal blades upon armor and shields, and that of blades on blades ringing about noisily. It was a mass of not anything else but fighting and dying, and I had all I could do to break free from it. All the horsemen on both sides had been killed, and now everyone fought only on foot. The sky grew overcast, and the day became quite gloomy as it wore tiredly on. My limbs were sore, and my sword and shield felt heavy to carry. I was covered in cuts, bruises, scratches, scrapes, and several wounds that I knew were going to leave some horrific looking scars. My pale skin was spattered with the red of blood, both my own and that of those I had slain upon that day. I likely looked like the demon that some people called me, and I knew that even if I survived this battle the trauma of what I witnessed during it would remain with me for the rest of my life. I had tripped on severed limbs, and nearly slipped in the guts of men who had in savage fashion been disemboweled. All of this wore on my sanity as much as on my body. I threw up at least three times during the battle, and the smell and stink of death was more than I could bear once the battle had worn on for even longer. “I can take this no longer!” I heard one man scream, and saw him so fall upon his sword in a fit of madness. This was becoming too much, too much, for me to handle. I did keep searching for Arthur, however, as I circled still around the remaining combatants who were locked in their unspeakable dance of death. I was near to the river when I spotted my father, who looked not as a king might any longer, but as a tired aging man who had witnessed too much suffering in one lifetime. I called out to him: “Father! Do you yield? We can stop this insanity now if you do... I will see to it that you only suffer exile, and will swear an oath that no one shall harm you. Let us end this, before it is far too late to do so!” He dropped his sword from his hand and his shield as well and picked up a lance of great length and sharpness that was laying near his feet. Then he turned and said unto me: “My son, oh my son!” and he began to cry, sobbing as never I had seen him do before. “I am sorry!” he screamed at the top of his lungs, so loudly that it seemed to hurt his throat. He cleared his throat after that and spat up some fluid mixed with blood. He was sickly with some terrible ailment, I realized, which accounted for his loss of so much weight. I realized that he was likely dying. He then stated more calmly: “I am... so very sorry... that it ever, came to this. That I allowed my jealousy, my bitterness, my rage, and also it seems my weak foolishness... to cause this cruel civil war, and all the blood spilled because of it. But it is too late, to go back! Too late now, for both of us. If I surrender, I shall be dead ere long anyway, for it seems that God has seen fit to punish me for my sins. My chosen heir, Constantine, went with me to the continent, where he chose to remain. Perhaps... he chose wisely... given that here, I found only my end.”
He spat up a bit more, and then continued, saying: “Even if I surrender to you, look around you! Both our armies are utterly ruined after this. On hearing of my fate, Constantine will come seeking to avenge me and then the fighting will only continue... likely for a generation or more. It will not be we who thus decide the fate of this country and its' destiny! It will be our heirs, our successors, our children who will be forced to do battle. But either way, Camelot is no more. My dream for it is dashed, my hopes for you are ruined. I planned to name you as my heir once... I should have done so then and there. But I thought I had more time than I do... I thought that we both had more time. I do not wish to think that our time is now run out! So I shall put my lance down, and you shall sheathe your sword and cast down your shield as well. We will jointly call for our warriors to stop, and we will meet at your camp, rather than mine... since mine is now wholly destroyed... to discuss how it is, that we might come to peaceful terms. I, will not offer this to you again, Mordred! Take my offer or leave it. But just realize that killing me would be accomplishing nothing for you at all in the end. Only further strife for the entire country! Which if I am any judge of character at all, I know that you do not want.” He seemed to regain a bit of strength and I saw that true to his word he threw down his lance at once. I sheathed my sword and threw down as he had requested my shield. Then, we both cried out for the battle to cease, which it then did. I saw how so very, terribly, exhausted everyone on both sides looked... and it was good to finally be putting an end to the senseless killing. We all made our way together to my camp, where Arthur brought along a table as well as some chairs to sit upon from his own ruined campsite. He had fortified his own camp rather in a reasonable way, with palisade walls and a trench dug all around those walls, on the outside... but, there had been too many gaps in those walls, and the trench was shallow in places, allowing my horsemen to get over it with relative ease. He had some decent strategies in play, and as we sat down to talk I did so compliment him regarding them. The table and chairs had been brought into my tent, and it was therein that my father and I sat down to speak civilly for the first time in a great many years. He said unto me in reply to my attempt at a compliment: “Thank you, son! Those fortifications were hardly the best, but it was all we could do to raise them before you decided to attack. We had no the time to do better! If it be that my eyes do not deceive me, I saw that you fought at the side of the Saxons in our battles both back at Camelot and here. Why ally yourself with such as them? They are barbarians!” and I explained to my father how the Saxons had thought at first, to raid the Orkney islands and use them as a staging area for further raids and a possible invasion of the entire country to follow. But when they arrived, in force, my aunt Morgan made peace with them just as my family had done in times past. I told him how the folk of my family honored Saxon traditions since long, long before either I or my brothers had ever been born. So it was a wise decision, we felt, to seek an alliance with the Saxons in order to prevent them from in fact being able to do the greater harm that they had originally intended. I twisted the truth a little when I said: “With you away at the continent, some people so believed or at the very least feared you slain, and without a High King to rule over the country it was feared that people would lose faith in Camelot and begin to despair... on top of that grim sort of matter, the Saxon leaders agreed to make peace but only at the cost of being granted places to call their own. Since only the High King could grant such a request, I had no choice but to escort the Saxons to Camelot, and assume the mantle of High King in your stead... which I did. After that, I was able to grant the Saxons their request and because of the old bonds that do exist between their folk and my family... I was able to get them to swear oaths, that ensured that they in fact would exist peacefully within their new lands and that they would agree to fight against any and all enemies of Camelot. But because of the enmity between you and I, when you did return... my army did think that you intended to seize the throne from me. You know what transpired after that! It was never my desire to fight you, but alas I was given little to no choice with the way things played out. So now you know why I stand with the Saxons, and also why it was that we attacked you outside of Camelot.” Arthur's face was filled with great concern, and he was silent for a good while after I had thus spoken.
He then said unto me calmly... after sipping a bit of wine from a cup that was prepared for him at the table: “So, you manged to stop a Saxon invasion and keep a High King still upon the throne of Logres! And you took the throne lawfully, I would assume?” I explained to him that: “I did indeed! But it was a hard thing, to control the Saxons... they did a fair share of pillaging, as we made our way southwards to Camelot, and once we got there they rather ran amok somewhat in the city before order could be at last restored. Once I was named High King... I was able to get everything under control, and I also was able to identify four traitors whom I personally executed and made an example of. I have not the slightest bit of intention in regards to stepping down as High King... and since I was lawfully chosen for that office, I cannot step down even if I wished to. I am the only thing that is keeping the Saxons under control! If I am slain, they will think that they have been betrayed and the peace I made with them will be dissolved. At that point, the country will descend into chaos. I could not say whether or not Constantine may be at that point up to the task of assuming the title of High King, himself! But you likely know him better by far than I do. What do you think?” to which my father admitted: “He is young, somewhat foolish, and I think even with the army he kept with him back on the continent... he would be hard pressed, to fight a foe as ferocious as the Saxons. I suppose, it would largely depend on whether we could get word to him in time, but even so... you saw how long it took me and my army to get back here. I would imagine that it is a good thing, then, that you were not slain this day. But will the Saxons obey your heir, if you have chosen one yet? In the event of your death, that is.” I explained to Arthur then: “They would, but only if my heir is made the next High King, since they now respect the office of the High King by way only of my family. I have two sons at present... and at least one of them, Melehan, would make a good king one day. Guinevere is still the High Queen at present! Since you were believed dead, your marriage to her in truth was dissolved. I took the liberty then of marrying her myself, and named a girl called Caitlin to act as her regent whilst I ordered Guinevere brought to safety, along with several other people whom I care deeply about. Press me all you like, I shall not say where they are! For, if we come to conflict again... it would not do at all for you to know the actual whereabouts of all those I wished to protect from the folk who follow you. Though you may be a man of honor, I trust not your soldiers to be likewise honorable. And in the past, you were known to order the deaths of children! Which was hardly an honorable thing to do. So there is a matter of there being a lack of trust remaining between us.” Arthur then rubbed his bearded chin as if deep in thought, before saying in response: “I should never have done that thing I did when you were born! It was not merely dishonorably, but wicked as well and quite unbecoming of any king, either good or bad. And who is this Caitlin of whom you speak... is she a noblewoman then?” to which I answered: “She is a noble girl, father. Not a woman at all! She is only ten years old, but at the time when I named her as the regent of the High Queen, I did see in her all the right qualities for one so meant to carry that very title.” Arthur then chuckled a bit and stated: “Mordred... your proclivities are well known to everyone. You have a rather peculiar fondness for little girls, and I do not pretend to at all understand that sort of desire myself. I prefer my women with breasts, after all! But... you are hardly, the only man with such desires in the entirety of this country. I can well imagine what qualities it is you saw in young Caitlin! And I would prefer not to dwell upon such things. You know, Merlin had a young lover himself by the name of Nimue. I believe she was one of the Ladies of the Lake spiritual order too. If memory serves, she was fourteen years old when he first took her to his bed. Where is Merlin, at the moment... is he still back at the castle at Camelot, dabbling in his arcane arts up in his tower there? If so, perhaps we should send for him... his wisdom would be good to hear on this occasion.” I then told my father everything I had learned regarding the fate that befell Merlin... and how it was at last, that the great druid had met his end. The news distressed him greatly, and he had tears in his eyes. “Merlin had taught me so much, Mordred! I owe what wisdom it is that I possess almost wholly to him. His loss is a terrible one for my... your... kingdom. And yes, it is yours now! I am no longer fit to be its' High King.”
The details of my peace talks with Arthur involved one small thing that everyone simply had taken for granted. It was that no weapon was to be drawn, and that if either side drew a weapon during the talks... then battle would be resumed, between both sides, since it meant that one side decided to seek to betray the other. A snake had slithered into the tent, whilst I and my father were talking further, and neither of us saw it. However, one of the soldiers who came to take our empty wine cups did see it, and he thence noticed that it was about to bite Arthur. Fearing to see this happen and assuming nobody would notice... he drew his sword and attempted to slay the snake with it. Arthur only saw that the man drew his sword and feared that I was attempting to betray him since this soldier was one of mine. All at once, my father sprang up from his chair and leaped back shouting: “Oh God! Mordred, why? I have been betrayed!” At which point he rushed out of the tent to rally his soldiers, who were alarmed by hearing him shout what he had. My soldier said only: “I am sorry, my king! I did not think, that...” and I said unto him: “No! In point of fact, you did not think at all. Now, you must pay for your thoughtlessness! You have destroyed this country's last and best chance at peace.” I then drew Albion from its' sheath and let it drink deep of the foolish soldier's blood. I could hear the voice of the nameless goddess whose spirit was within my blade, as she warned me: “That was rash, Mordred! That is one less soldier you will have to wage the coming battle with.” I called for her to be silent, and ran out of the tent as fast as I could. Arthur's army, such of it as remained, made haste to the nearby plain of Camlann, which was not far from the place I had chosen to make my war camp at. Just before I could lead what was left of my army to the plain so that I could face Arthur once more... a messenger arrived from Camelot with terrible news. “My king! The Saxons are even now at Salisbury Plain, where they are fighting against a coalition of nobles who have betrayed you. It seems the four traitors you put to death had quite a few friends. Both sides suffer great losses, and at this rate neither will survive.” I laughed loudly, and exclaimed: “Really? Then, we shall be seeing our Saxon allies soon in the other world, for on this day we too shall likely die! Begone. I have a battle right here to worry about. I cannot be in two places at once.” After that, I led my army to the plain of Camlann in order to face my father one very final, bitter time. And there we fought! There, men and women died beyond counting. This was even more chaotic of a battle than the one we fought at Arthur's war camp... and, this time, Arthur held in his right hand the terrible sword Caledfwlch. My own sword, Albion, was a much longer blade and somewhat anachronistically designed. In comparison, Arthur's famous sword was an ancient Roman gladius... decorated with a Latin inscription, all along the flat of the blade. It was a short sword meant mostly for stabbing rather than for slashing. Whereas, more versatile was Albion since it could slash as well as stab. My sword fell upon his, as I gripped Albion in both of my hands to deliver the most savage blows that I possibly could. Neither of us had a shield and we gave little thought to defense by this point in our conflict. There would be no further peace talks, no hope of a united country now. This was a duel to the death, and the apocalyptic end of the era of Logres. Unless I could survive this, Camelot was doomed! To my advantage, my father was weak and sickly to a great extent... but I was naturally weak and sometimes sickly due to my albinism, and without Albion I would never have stood a chance pitted against such a skilled warrior as my father was. I found a dark sort of humor in the fact that a snake, an adder in fact, had in the end caused the end of Camelot. For I still did not believe that either my father or I were going to survive this clash of ours. “That was the last betrayal of yours, Mordred! You are drunk from too much power, mad with a lust for blood, and so very perverse that it sickens me to think of it. We could have mended this country together! Whatever drove you to seek my death through such deceitful means?” That was what Arthur said to me as we fought, as my sword and his met time and time again upon the plain of Camlann. I replied, angrily: “I did nothing of the sort! Would it matter to you at all if I told you that my soldier was only trying to kill a snake that was about to bite you?” to which my father laughed dismissively and yelled: “I saw no snake there! If there was, you should have said something. No! I no longer choose to believe, your poisonous words.”
And, he proceeded to try his best to kill me. We spoke no more, except to exchange threats upon each other's lives whilst the screams of dying soldiers resounded all about us. Our duel took us to the base of a large rock that was many times larger than the tallest man, on a stretch of the plain were several large rocks lay strewn about. Arthur kept coughing rather violently, but he refused to back down as we fought against each other. The clanging of our blades was like a deadly, terrible music that was ringing in our ears loudly. How I longed for that music to cease! But it did not... it could not... until one of us was no more. We wounded each other in ghastly ways, our blood spraying this way and that until it covered us both. So many scars I would have after this was over... if I still lived! The physical ones would be only the least that I would bear. I broke our silence by shouting: “When will it be enough for you, father? I told you already, I did not try to kill you! I never wanted to kill you.” to which he answered, hatefully: “And I never wanted you at all!” The madness that he was sometimes prone to had returned. This had always been the side of Arthur that I hated the most... his inability to control himself once this insanity or whatever it was overtook his reason. I began to cry, for that last thing he had said to me hurt deeply. I shouted: “Why, father! Why have you never loved me as a father should? I did you no wrong as a child! And am I so different from a child now?” He would not answer me... continuing his attacks, which now had become wilder and less predictable than before. I was barely able to avoid dying at the point of his sword on several occasions. He was like a man who had lost his mind entirely. After some time he did yell the following at me: “You abducted my wife, with the help of my champion... a man who was once like a blood brother to me... you turned her heart against me! You raised an army of barbarians to usurp my throne, whilst I was away. You spirited my wife away to who knows where, and replaced her with a child. A little girl, Mordred! Someone you merely took a passing fancy to. Then, you lied to me during our peace talks and assumed I was foolish enough to actually believe you! The saddest part is... I very nearly did.” I knee precisely what to say in response, and so I screamed back at him: “It was not I who turned Guinevere's heart against you! You did that all by yourself, when you allowed your sick jealousy to drive you to order her execution, as well as mine. You tried to kill your own wife! Over a matter that had passed between she and I before she was ever married to you at all. It was for nothing! Nothing! As for the Saxons, what would you have done in my place... allowed them to do as they pleased, until it at least occurred to you to go forth and fight them? And, how many times would you beat them back only for them to return stronger and stronger each time! One day, you would see it was not enough to simply fight them, but by then it would be too late. Peace, is always a better choice, than war! Had you half of Merlin's wisdom you would realize that. But you don't! You never did. And how dare you judge me for choosing Caitlin as the High Queen's regent... at least I never raped my own sister like you did. After all that is how I was born, was it not?” This caused my father to flew into a rage like none I had ever seen him in before. He did not even attempt to deny the thing which I had just accused him of. Instead, he at last swung his sword so ferociously at me... a mistake since he tried to deliver a slash with a sword that was meant only for stabbing... that it struck one of the rocks behind me. The shock of that blow caused Arthur to drop his sword, leaving him without a weapon. Only a small distance away there were several dead soldiers and their discarded weapons laying upon the ground. Arthur ran in that direction and I so gave chase. He grabbed a lance from the dead men... and aimed it towards me as I approached. He then lunged at me with all his might... and I leaped out of the way of his lance. I ran back towards where the dead men were, and braced myself for his next attack. I realized then that I should have run behind him after dodging his attack so that I could deliver a killing blow. But it was too late! Arthur turned around, and charged at me with the lance, once again, this time with much greater speed. I tried to do the same thing I had done before, and jump out of the way... but as I attempted this, I tripped over one of the dead men's arms, which caused me to become unbalanced and actually fall towards Arthur's lance. I felt the awful pain as it pierced my body, breaking bones as it drove its' way towards my heart, which it missed.
Arthur withdrew the lance after that, and discarded it. He stood there, watching... expecting me to fall over dead from my near-fatal wounding... and I was bleeding horrifically from the hole in my body that he had inflicted upon me. But Albion, which I still gripped tightly in my right hand, my left arm having grown numb suddenly... gave me a sudden surge of unnatural strength of a sort that I had never known before. I charged at Arthur, or rather the white sword did, using me as merely a vessel for its' power. He tried to move out of the way, but could not do so quickly enough. Albion sliced into my father's head... delivering unto him a truly gruesome looking wound... which caused him to collapse unto the ground as the blood from his head wound poured down over his face. He was dying for certain now! Suddenly, I witnessed the blade of my sword turn black rather than white, and soon the whole weapon was black. It then screeched and shrieked dreadfully, and began to feel too cold to hold any longer. I let go of it, and it fell to the ground just before I likewise fell over. I fell hard, landing almost upon my face before I did manage to get myself upon my back instead. Nearby, Arthur lay in the identical position and neither of us could speak so much as a whisper. Suddenly, Llwch Lleminawg arrived at the scene and he carried in his hands Arthur's sword Caledfwlch. He approached my father and knelt next to him, saying: “I arrived too late to be of any use to either you... or Mordred... it seems. Forgive me, my old friend! If it may be a consolation, at all, you may know that the battle which was raging at Salisbury Plain has ended with the deaths of both the Saxons, and the nobles who faced them there. The remaining Saxon forces, all across the country, are said to be retreating back in the direction of the Orkney islands. Either they will venture back over the sea from there... or they will lick their wounds and wait to grow stronger before being any sort of a menace again. Either way, the crisis regarding them is over for now. What would you have me do with your sword? For it appears that you are dying, my friend.” I could hear Arthur say next in a low and weak sounding voice that was trembling a bit as he spoke: “Take it to the Ladies of the Lake, and if God be good then they will keep it in their care until perhaps one day another might prove worthy of it. I was unworthy, and I have paid for that with my very life.” His champion said kindly: “I will be as you ask, old friend! Ever as you ask.” Then... Llwch glanced over at me, began to cry, and walked away. As he walked away I could hear him shriek: “Oh God! That I have lost them both this day, is more than my heart can bear. God, please, give me the strength to go on! I must do as Arthur asked me, after all.” I did not expect anyone else to show up, after that... but then... three did. One was my aunt Morgan who took the now black sword Albion off of the ground, to hold in her hands. She wore a long black flowing robe with a hood that was thrown back from her face, and her expression was one of deepest sorrow. She did truly look like what she actually was... the embodiment of death itself, with her chalk white skin, raven black hair, and black eyes. The second person was a woman I did not recognize, who announced herself as the Queen of Northgalis, but refused to give her name. In truth, I did not recognize her, nor had I ever so much as heard of her before. She was taller than my aunt was, by at least a head, and she wore a long sky blue gown with a silver girdle about her waist. She was light of skin and had long straight flame red hair that fell down her back like a curtain. She was not beautiful exactly, but rather she did seem mostly statuesque in a way. Her eyes were hazel colored, and her voice was severe in its' tone. The third person in their company was another woman who announced herself as the Queen of the Wastelands. She also, did not state her name... but elaborated, that she was the aunt of the late Sir Peredur, he having so died at the end of our quest for the Holy Grail. She wore a long red gown, with gold trim, and had a golden colored girdle about her waist. She was also light of skin, but had a freckled face and long wavy blonde hair as well as blue eyes. She at least I had heard of! So great, had the wasteland in Lyonesse become... that it grew into a place now called the Wastelands, which became a separate domain from Lyonesse as time went on. Peredur's aunt was chosen to be its' ruler, and she grew into a bit of a recluse after that. It took, clearly, the present calamity to bring her forth from her solitude. The two queens did walk over to Arthur, pick him up, and then carry him to their nearby wagon... which was drawn by two white horses.
Morgan leaned over to look at me and smiled after that. She clapped her hands, and three women who wore black robes just like hers approached and picked me up off the ground to carry me away towards a second wagon that was waiting nearby also, this one drawn by two black horses. I blacked out after that and believed that I had died finally from the loss of so much blood. When next, my eyes opened... I was in a stone chamber with light shining down from a square opening in the ceiling. I could not move and I was laying upon a stone altar of some kind. There were four massive square pillars... around the dais on which the altar sat... and, to my right, I saw that across the room there was an identical dais and another set of four pillars, as well as another opening in the ceiling for light to come down through. An altar did sit atop that dais also... and upon it, I saw my father's motionless body. It seemed that at least I was able to turn my head. I could hear footsteps, and a familiar voice, as my sweet Kundry walked into the room whilst singing softly. She wore a long black sleeveless gown that was elegant and flowing, and her feet had black slippers upon them. Her long golden hair was done up in an elaborate coiffure that was quite beautiful and elegant. Her cherubic face was smiling brightly... but tears filled her pretty blue eyes. She kept singing whilst I heard more footsteps. The next person to so enter the room was Caitlin, who wore also a gown and slippers identical to that worn by Kundry. Her long curly red hair was still the prettiest red hair that I had ever seen! I looked deeply into her green eyes, and smiled. She smiled back at me as best as she could, but began to sob and cry most terribly... so terribly, that she fell to her knees from the way that her body shuddered from the deep sorrow that was consuming her. Kundry began to cry also... and the sound of the two little girls giving in to their pain over my impending death, which I knew had to be coming swiftly, was breaking my heart as well. I began to cry too, and it hurt very much for me to do so because of how very much pain I now realized that my body was actually in. My aunt Morgan, so entered the chamber next, in the company of Melisande. They explained to me that Guinevere was well, and that she was journeying to the temple of the Ladies of the Lake where she planned to spend the rest of her life as a member of their spiritual order. I was happy to hear that, and said as much. “You are, as you might guess, dying Mordred. Your father has died already... a good while ago, actually. We could do nothing to save him, even here at Avalon. You, we were able to stabilize for a time... but, even all of our considerable arts of healing, and magic, cannot keep one who is destined to die from passing on into the other world. Soon, you will have to go with Arawn! He will take your father with him as well, and your souls, your spirits, shall venture together with him into the hereafter. Beyond that, even I who am Death cannot say what awaits you! Just know that until the end, we will be here with you, to keep you happy... and keep you company.” She then walked forward, and kissed me upon my lips, before standing behind me. She called for Kundry and Caitlin to come forward. Melisande left the chamber to fetch a stool and brought it over so that the two children could use it in order to reach... so that they could likewise give me a kiss upon my lips. Both of them kissed me in turn... but Kundry after doing so wrapped her arms tightly around me and said that she did not wish to let me go. “I cannot live without you! I don't want to live without you! Oh, Arawn, please let me go with him... let me go with my husband... please. If I have to live in this world without him, I don't want to live any longer at all.” Caitlin began to scream after so hearing that, and declared that she did not want to go on any longer either. Then, on the far side of the chamber before me, a rift in reality appeared and a portal to the other world opened. Out of it, stepped a man in a hooded black robe whose skin appeared to be made of living shadow. It was Arawn, at last. As he came forward, at his side was the familiar figure of Judith... she, who was known as the Holy Grail. I smiled when I saw her, and she smiled back at me, saying: “Time to go, Mordred! Are you ready?” The two children rushed over, crying: “Not without us!” and Arawn agreed to let them come with me. As he touched me, I could move my body again, and I got up from the altar, all the pain in my body vanishing. My wound was healed! My father walked over to my side, his wound also having been healed. Kundry held my left hand, and Caitlin my right. All of us, together, entered the other world... passing into death.
When Arthur returned to Ynys Prydain, he did so at the head of an army nearly equal in size to that of the forces that would be arrayed against him once he realized that his kingdom had been usurped during his absence. He did not go straight to Camelot at first but journeyed north a bit, near to Hadrian's Wall... and there he did raid the border of one of the northern kingdoms. He attempted to steal cattle and varied other goods in order to acquire meat and supplies to support his army... which was running low by then. As the reports came to me in Camelot regarding the situation at Hadrian's Wall, it became obvious that now was the time to prepare for dealing with the former High King once and for all. I decided to wait at present rather than send a force to the wall to deal with Arthur straight away. This had the feel of a trap to it and I knew my father's cunning all too well for I had inherited no small degree of it myself. Instead I took the time to order all of my military forces across the land to make ready and be prepared in case I needed to call upon them. For I knew I would have to quite soon, since following his raid in the north... Arthur would surely journey south, believing that he would be welcome in Camelot. The idea I had was to allow him to actually get as far as the outskirts of Camelot itself, before surrounding his army and so proceeding to wipe it out entirely. From the reports that arrived from the wall, it was easy to determine, roughly, the approximate size of the army that Arthur now had. This made it a simple matter to have a far larger force than his laying in wait around and about the area where he was have to pass to actually enter Camelot. The fortress of Camelot proper sat upon Cadbury Hill, and of old the kingdom of Arthur had been known as Logres, before the fame of Camelot spread wide enough that the name became more used than Logres in reference to my father's kingdom. There was a great city that had been built up over the years all around and about that hill, and the city too came to be called Camelot. It was all of this that I had seized when I led my army to Camelot from the north. It was the city outskirts where I planned to set my trap, for a single road led into the city and I knew that this would be the road that my father had to travel along... especially so great an army following him... in order to reach the city. He was likely to be expecting a tremendous welcome for a beloved king. He would receive a welcome, only it would be not the one that he imagined! It was on an early foggy morning when Arthur and his army reached fully within sight of Camelot city. The day previous it had rained and the weather had been quite miserable... leaving the road a muddy mess. This slowed Arthur's progress more than it otherwise should have, and that would give my forces the advantage in taking him by surprise. All of his knights were with him as well as his soldiers, so that should we win this battle it would prove to be a decisive victory. Only one thing was a problem! The fog made visibility quite poor, so we would have to rely on our numbers in a hope of overwhelming Arthur quickly... since should things become too confused it could be a bit easy for Arthur to slip away during the confusion. Unfortunately something like that is what ended up very much happening. Once my soldiers fell upon Arthur and his knights and soldiers, the battle became a confused mess due to the lack of proper visibility. I was wise not to employ a larger force, because all too quickly there were casualties on both sides that made it needful for both to withdraw from the road. My forces made for the gates of the city and they blocked the way so that Arthur could not enter it even with such an army as he had. Fro waiting behind the city gates was a second force that I ordered to thus stand by in order to ensure that Arthur would not be able to take Camelot. He recognized this, at once... and so, he did order his men to retreat whilst I sent a small scouting party to spy upon my father and so learn where it was that he planned to actually retreat to. He was making for Cornwall... and made camp at the river Camel there, where he seemed content to remain for as long as he could in order to regroup and recover after the disastrous battle outside of Camelot city. From what the scouts said, they were of the belief that Arthur could be attempting to build some crude fortifications there in order to use it as a base of some kind. Knowing that we had some time, I decided to wait until the weather was at least of a sort that would make battle less hazardous and uncertain. I sent out the call, for all of my armed forces.
I amassed my entire combined army at Camelot, and upon the next clear day thereafter, I led them out towards Cornwall with as much haste as we could manage with hosts so vast in numbers. Before setting forth... I had some priestesses from Avalon come to escort Caitlin to safety, and so they took her back to Avalon with them. As for my two sons, Melehan and Menehir... they remained in the Orkney islands in the custody of the people, who were family, whom I had left in charge of that domain when I had made my journey south from there. With all of my loved ones, and my children, accounted for I had no need to fear for them during the battle to come... which allowed me to devote my attention entirely to seeing that we actually won this time. We could not allow Arthur to escape a second time, lest he flee perhaps to Ireland and out of our reach wholly. I did not like his strategy, either, it seemed strange that he might choose so remote a place to fortify... but because it was just such a peculiar location it made a kind of bizarre sense. It was the sort of place no one would normally choose to mount a defense, and he likely had some surprises in store for us upon our arrival. The only thing that worried me, was how little we knew of what he was doing aside from building fortifications. But the scouts had done their best and I had no way of being better prepared than I already was for whatever awaited us. Thus it was that at the head of my army, I rode for Cornwall and had a sudden frightful premonition that this was going to be my very last battle. By that battle's end, either Arthur or I would be dead and the fate of Camelot would be decided in the favor of either my father or myself. The ride was long, and took days to get where we needed to. The weather held up at least, and it did not rain, nor did any fog or mist roll in, which I was most grateful for. A repeat of the previous disaster was not what anyone needed. We got within sight of the river, and passed by thick woods, forests, and somewhat marshy terrain as we journeyed toward the direction that the scouts reported as being the site of Arthur's war camp. There were wide open stretches that I feared would leave us too exposed, and so we kept to the outskirts of the woodlands always, and thus was it quite slow to maneuver. Yet we managed to reach close to our goal without being spotted... for there was a good deal of wind on that day, at least at that present time, which would make it harder to hear us coming. I send a single scout ahead once we got within the vicinity of Arthur's location and I waited to hear back from her before deciding how best to proceed. In the meantime, we made camp in the woods, and avoided lighting any fires not only because in the woods that could be dangerous but so also because I had no desire for Arthur to spot where we ourselves were. I planned to establish a camp in a less difficult location after we knew exactly where the enemy camp was. The scout returned quite quickly, and told us so precisely where my father was. His camp was in a clear stretch a the very edge of the river just beyond the woods to the northwest. I decided to choose, for our new camp's location, a similar sort of area that lay to the southeast. Once we established that camp, which was as expected so outside the woods, I decided it was time to lead my army through the woods where we would pour out and fall upon Arthur's camp. He was watching the river, the scout said, and would not anticipate that we would choose to attack from the forest rather than a more open location fit for a large army. But, one of the best Saxon strategies involved hiding one's true numbers within a wooded area to make it seem as if one had a much smaller force by far. This would lull the enemy into a false sense of security so that as the full army poured out of the woods... it would take the fore totally by surprise and sometimes cause a drop in their morale that often could prove to be a deciding factor in winning such a battle. The Saxons in my army knew that I was planning to use this very strategy, and they themselves were masters of it. I gave the order, and it went pretty much as expected. First a small force emerged from the woods, and it harried Arthur's camp, turning his attention in the direction of only that small force. He sent a bit of a larger force out to deal with them, only to have that force be overwhelmed by a force of ours that was a great deal larger that next emerged from out of the forest. I could hear one of my father's men who was screaming quite loudly: “Saxons! My king, there are Saxons attacking from the woods!” But it was too late for the warning to do any good. All of my forces emerged, at once, and fell upon my father's camp.
Arthur had yet to put up any wooden stakes around his camp... though we had added such around our own... and so there was nothing to deter our horsemen from riding forth and attacking, which they did. Someone on Arthur's side cried out: “They are not just Saxons, but fighting folk of the Orkney islands as well! This has to be Mordred's army! Get the defenses ready, quickly.” And a rather large number of enemy soldiers came forward with large, long metal shields. They formed a phalanx formation and did produce spears and lances that made short work of many of our horsemen. I called for the horsemen to retreat, and had my archers fire flaming arrows tipped with flammable... but fragile... containers that as they struck the phalanx caused the man struck to catch on fire, which broke their formation as they ran about screaming and burning. The smell of their burning flesh was sickening, and I tried to put it out of my mind so it would not nauseate me too much. After that, my own lancers moved in to clash with the remnants of the phalanx soldiers, and it was now an even battle between them. The infantry units ran forth next, and my regular warriors met them on the field of battle. Now, fully, the battle was joined... and my father's strategies were foiled for the time being. Horsemen faced horsemen whilst the sound of blades falling upon armor and shields filled the air, along with the cries and shrieks of dying soldiers. It was the closest thing to a true hell that one could ever imagine, a battlefield such a this! This was not as the tales of later history claimed, a romantic and chivalrous clash between valiant knights and their evil foes. I was no more wholly evil than my father, and he was no more totally good than I was. I realized, at last, that I was very much my father's child and upon understanding this it pained me that I now had to face him and slay him. I wondered at all the events that led up to this day, none of which could ever have been avoided. I gazed at Arthur across the field and I realized perhaps for the first time just how... very much... I resembled him. Only whereas my skin was chalk white, his was normal in tone, and his hair was now a graying light reddish brown. I had his eyes, and his nose. Time had made us both a good deal less great, than once we had been. My father was leaner and a lot skinnier than I remembered... and I had gained a slight bit more weight during my time as High King. He noticed me in that same instant when I noticed him, and he cried out towards me: “Why did it have to come to this, Mordred? I recall a time when you served me so very well! Now, we stand as enemies. And for what? I know not anymore! Come then, my hell spawned son... let us see who is best fit to rule this land after all.” But I ignored his challenge, since he was still surrounded by his knights, and among them was my brother Gawain in his full armor. Arthur too wore full armor for this occasion, as did I and all of my forces for that matter. It was Gawain who ran out to face me. We had both abandoned our horses and rushed forward on foot to fight. My brother held a large ax clutched in both of his hands, and I held the white sword Albion in my right hand, with a round shield of medium size carried in my left hand. His swings were clumsy and it was easy to dodge them all. He still suffered from the wound that Llwch Lleminawg had given him and I saw that he struggled not to let this show. “You are no brother of mine, traitor!” he hissed as he struck at me again and again, unable to contain his fury. His face was red with rage, but his breathing was fast becoming quite labored. “I have no wish to slay you, Gawain!” I said, adding: “But if you keep at me in this way, I fear that you will only succeed in destroying yourself.” He growled at me like an animal, at last screaming: “I need no pity from the likes of you, filth!” He was not my brother any longer. He was not the man I had once looked up to. He had become a person I no longer recognized, nor wished to. I fought him without holding back, and soon he began to tire. I saw him begin to bleed but it was not at all from anything I did to him... it was the wound that Llwch had given him, reopening. “Gawain! How is it that you have reopened your wound? Stop at once... lest you perish!” He then said unto me in a sad and resigned tone, pausing in order to tell me all that he needed to: “I reopened it previously during the campaign Arthur undertook on the continent. My days have been numbered ever since. I fear that I can fight you no longer, Mordred. So... let us make peace at last... for I am dying...” and suddenly he fell to the ground and bled out profusely. I wept for him, crying out his name as he died in my arms, forgiven.
Someone screamed out: “Mordred, has slain Gawain! Rally the knights, rally the knights!” to which I cried out in answer: “I slew him not! He died of his old wound which Arthur's champion gave him first of all. He was my brother! These tears I cry now, are for him.” And I charged at the man who said that about me and sliced off his head with my sword. There was no way to halt the madness that ensured as the battle raged on further. I lost track of how many knights perished, and which ones did or did not fall before my forces... the battle at the river Camel was a horrible one, and it finally broke the brotherhood of the Round Table irrevocably. Whatever happened following this day, nothing would ever be quite the same again... which disturbed me greatly. Both sides were suffering uncountable losses, and ere long it was that the Saxons were forced to retreat from the field lest they be wholly slaughtered. This left only the folk of the Orkney islands to continue the fight. On Arthur's side, I saw few knights remaining and a vastly diminished army overall. Due to his own losses, our forces had become equal. I could not fault at all the Saxons for fleeing... had I any sense, I would have fled too. But because I lacked that good sense I remained to keep pressing my remaining army against what was left of Arthur's. It was insane, but if it be that we did not finish things here and now, then all that I had endured up to this point would have in all truth been for nothing. I was tired of fleeing from my father! Perhaps it was time to face him at least one final time, I thought to myself. “Father!” I cried out. “Where are you, in all this chaos?” all around me, were masses of armed and armored men and women, screaming and clashing, the sounds of metal blades upon armor and shields, and that of blades on blades ringing about noisily. It was a mass of not anything else but fighting and dying, and I had all I could do to break free from it. All the horsemen on both sides had been killed, and now everyone fought only on foot. The sky grew overcast, and the day became quite gloomy as it wore tiredly on. My limbs were sore, and my sword and shield felt heavy to carry. I was covered in cuts, bruises, scratches, scrapes, and several wounds that I knew were going to leave some horrific looking scars. My pale skin was spattered with the red of blood, both my own and that of those I had slain upon that day. I likely looked like the demon that some people called me, and I knew that even if I survived this battle the trauma of what I witnessed during it would remain with me for the rest of my life. I had tripped on severed limbs, and nearly slipped in the guts of men who had in savage fashion been disemboweled. All of this wore on my sanity as much as on my body. I threw up at least three times during the battle, and the smell and stink of death was more than I could bear once the battle had worn on for even longer. “I can take this no longer!” I heard one man scream, and saw him so fall upon his sword in a fit of madness. This was becoming too much, too much, for me to handle. I did keep searching for Arthur, however, as I circled still around the remaining combatants who were locked in their unspeakable dance of death. I was near to the river when I spotted my father, who looked not as a king might any longer, but as a tired aging man who had witnessed too much suffering in one lifetime. I called out to him: “Father! Do you yield? We can stop this insanity now if you do... I will see to it that you only suffer exile, and will swear an oath that no one shall harm you. Let us end this, before it is far too late to do so!” He dropped his sword from his hand and his shield as well and picked up a lance of great length and sharpness that was laying near his feet. Then he turned and said unto me: “My son, oh my son!” and he began to cry, sobbing as never I had seen him do before. “I am sorry!” he screamed at the top of his lungs, so loudly that it seemed to hurt his throat. He cleared his throat after that and spat up some fluid mixed with blood. He was sickly with some terrible ailment, I realized, which accounted for his loss of so much weight. I realized that he was likely dying. He then stated more calmly: “I am... so very sorry... that it ever, came to this. That I allowed my jealousy, my bitterness, my rage, and also it seems my weak foolishness... to cause this cruel civil war, and all the blood spilled because of it. But it is too late, to go back! Too late now, for both of us. If I surrender, I shall be dead ere long anyway, for it seems that God has seen fit to punish me for my sins. My chosen heir, Constantine, went with me to the continent, where he chose to remain. Perhaps... he chose wisely... given that here, I found only my end.”
He spat up a bit more, and then continued, saying: “Even if I surrender to you, look around you! Both our armies are utterly ruined after this. On hearing of my fate, Constantine will come seeking to avenge me and then the fighting will only continue... likely for a generation or more. It will not be we who thus decide the fate of this country and its' destiny! It will be our heirs, our successors, our children who will be forced to do battle. But either way, Camelot is no more. My dream for it is dashed, my hopes for you are ruined. I planned to name you as my heir once... I should have done so then and there. But I thought I had more time than I do... I thought that we both had more time. I do not wish to think that our time is now run out! So I shall put my lance down, and you shall sheathe your sword and cast down your shield as well. We will jointly call for our warriors to stop, and we will meet at your camp, rather than mine... since mine is now wholly destroyed... to discuss how it is, that we might come to peaceful terms. I, will not offer this to you again, Mordred! Take my offer or leave it. But just realize that killing me would be accomplishing nothing for you at all in the end. Only further strife for the entire country! Which if I am any judge of character at all, I know that you do not want.” He seemed to regain a bit of strength and I saw that true to his word he threw down his lance at once. I sheathed my sword and threw down as he had requested my shield. Then, we both cried out for the battle to cease, which it then did. I saw how so very, terribly, exhausted everyone on both sides looked... and it was good to finally be putting an end to the senseless killing. We all made our way together to my camp, where Arthur brought along a table as well as some chairs to sit upon from his own ruined campsite. He had fortified his own camp rather in a reasonable way, with palisade walls and a trench dug all around those walls, on the outside... but, there had been too many gaps in those walls, and the trench was shallow in places, allowing my horsemen to get over it with relative ease. He had some decent strategies in play, and as we sat down to talk I did so compliment him regarding them. The table and chairs had been brought into my tent, and it was therein that my father and I sat down to speak civilly for the first time in a great many years. He said unto me in reply to my attempt at a compliment: “Thank you, son! Those fortifications were hardly the best, but it was all we could do to raise them before you decided to attack. We had no the time to do better! If it be that my eyes do not deceive me, I saw that you fought at the side of the Saxons in our battles both back at Camelot and here. Why ally yourself with such as them? They are barbarians!” and I explained to my father how the Saxons had thought at first, to raid the Orkney islands and use them as a staging area for further raids and a possible invasion of the entire country to follow. But when they arrived, in force, my aunt Morgan made peace with them just as my family had done in times past. I told him how the folk of my family honored Saxon traditions since long, long before either I or my brothers had ever been born. So it was a wise decision, we felt, to seek an alliance with the Saxons in order to prevent them from in fact being able to do the greater harm that they had originally intended. I twisted the truth a little when I said: “With you away at the continent, some people so believed or at the very least feared you slain, and without a High King to rule over the country it was feared that people would lose faith in Camelot and begin to despair... on top of that grim sort of matter, the Saxon leaders agreed to make peace but only at the cost of being granted places to call their own. Since only the High King could grant such a request, I had no choice but to escort the Saxons to Camelot, and assume the mantle of High King in your stead... which I did. After that, I was able to grant the Saxons their request and because of the old bonds that do exist between their folk and my family... I was able to get them to swear oaths, that ensured that they in fact would exist peacefully within their new lands and that they would agree to fight against any and all enemies of Camelot. But because of the enmity between you and I, when you did return... my army did think that you intended to seize the throne from me. You know what transpired after that! It was never my desire to fight you, but alas I was given little to no choice with the way things played out. So now you know why I stand with the Saxons, and also why it was that we attacked you outside of Camelot.” Arthur's face was filled with great concern, and he was silent for a good while after I had thus spoken.
He then said unto me calmly... after sipping a bit of wine from a cup that was prepared for him at the table: “So, you manged to stop a Saxon invasion and keep a High King still upon the throne of Logres! And you took the throne lawfully, I would assume?” I explained to him that: “I did indeed! But it was a hard thing, to control the Saxons... they did a fair share of pillaging, as we made our way southwards to Camelot, and once we got there they rather ran amok somewhat in the city before order could be at last restored. Once I was named High King... I was able to get everything under control, and I also was able to identify four traitors whom I personally executed and made an example of. I have not the slightest bit of intention in regards to stepping down as High King... and since I was lawfully chosen for that office, I cannot step down even if I wished to. I am the only thing that is keeping the Saxons under control! If I am slain, they will think that they have been betrayed and the peace I made with them will be dissolved. At that point, the country will descend into chaos. I could not say whether or not Constantine may be at that point up to the task of assuming the title of High King, himself! But you likely know him better by far than I do. What do you think?” to which my father admitted: “He is young, somewhat foolish, and I think even with the army he kept with him back on the continent... he would be hard pressed, to fight a foe as ferocious as the Saxons. I suppose, it would largely depend on whether we could get word to him in time, but even so... you saw how long it took me and my army to get back here. I would imagine that it is a good thing, then, that you were not slain this day. But will the Saxons obey your heir, if you have chosen one yet? In the event of your death, that is.” I explained to Arthur then: “They would, but only if my heir is made the next High King, since they now respect the office of the High King by way only of my family. I have two sons at present... and at least one of them, Melehan, would make a good king one day. Guinevere is still the High Queen at present! Since you were believed dead, your marriage to her in truth was dissolved. I took the liberty then of marrying her myself, and named a girl called Caitlin to act as her regent whilst I ordered Guinevere brought to safety, along with several other people whom I care deeply about. Press me all you like, I shall not say where they are! For, if we come to conflict again... it would not do at all for you to know the actual whereabouts of all those I wished to protect from the folk who follow you. Though you may be a man of honor, I trust not your soldiers to be likewise honorable. And in the past, you were known to order the deaths of children! Which was hardly an honorable thing to do. So there is a matter of there being a lack of trust remaining between us.” Arthur then rubbed his bearded chin as if deep in thought, before saying in response: “I should never have done that thing I did when you were born! It was not merely dishonorably, but wicked as well and quite unbecoming of any king, either good or bad. And who is this Caitlin of whom you speak... is she a noblewoman then?” to which I answered: “She is a noble girl, father. Not a woman at all! She is only ten years old, but at the time when I named her as the regent of the High Queen, I did see in her all the right qualities for one so meant to carry that very title.” Arthur then chuckled a bit and stated: “Mordred... your proclivities are well known to everyone. You have a rather peculiar fondness for little girls, and I do not pretend to at all understand that sort of desire myself. I prefer my women with breasts, after all! But... you are hardly, the only man with such desires in the entirety of this country. I can well imagine what qualities it is you saw in young Caitlin! And I would prefer not to dwell upon such things. You know, Merlin had a young lover himself by the name of Nimue. I believe she was one of the Ladies of the Lake spiritual order too. If memory serves, she was fourteen years old when he first took her to his bed. Where is Merlin, at the moment... is he still back at the castle at Camelot, dabbling in his arcane arts up in his tower there? If so, perhaps we should send for him... his wisdom would be good to hear on this occasion.” I then told my father everything I had learned regarding the fate that befell Merlin... and how it was at last, that the great druid had met his end. The news distressed him greatly, and he had tears in his eyes. “Merlin had taught me so much, Mordred! I owe what wisdom it is that I possess almost wholly to him. His loss is a terrible one for my... your... kingdom. And yes, it is yours now! I am no longer fit to be its' High King.”
The details of my peace talks with Arthur involved one small thing that everyone simply had taken for granted. It was that no weapon was to be drawn, and that if either side drew a weapon during the talks... then battle would be resumed, between both sides, since it meant that one side decided to seek to betray the other. A snake had slithered into the tent, whilst I and my father were talking further, and neither of us saw it. However, one of the soldiers who came to take our empty wine cups did see it, and he thence noticed that it was about to bite Arthur. Fearing to see this happen and assuming nobody would notice... he drew his sword and attempted to slay the snake with it. Arthur only saw that the man drew his sword and feared that I was attempting to betray him since this soldier was one of mine. All at once, my father sprang up from his chair and leaped back shouting: “Oh God! Mordred, why? I have been betrayed!” At which point he rushed out of the tent to rally his soldiers, who were alarmed by hearing him shout what he had. My soldier said only: “I am sorry, my king! I did not think, that...” and I said unto him: “No! In point of fact, you did not think at all. Now, you must pay for your thoughtlessness! You have destroyed this country's last and best chance at peace.” I then drew Albion from its' sheath and let it drink deep of the foolish soldier's blood. I could hear the voice of the nameless goddess whose spirit was within my blade, as she warned me: “That was rash, Mordred! That is one less soldier you will have to wage the coming battle with.” I called for her to be silent, and ran out of the tent as fast as I could. Arthur's army, such of it as remained, made haste to the nearby plain of Camlann, which was not far from the place I had chosen to make my war camp at. Just before I could lead what was left of my army to the plain so that I could face Arthur once more... a messenger arrived from Camelot with terrible news. “My king! The Saxons are even now at Salisbury Plain, where they are fighting against a coalition of nobles who have betrayed you. It seems the four traitors you put to death had quite a few friends. Both sides suffer great losses, and at this rate neither will survive.” I laughed loudly, and exclaimed: “Really? Then, we shall be seeing our Saxon allies soon in the other world, for on this day we too shall likely die! Begone. I have a battle right here to worry about. I cannot be in two places at once.” After that, I led my army to the plain of Camlann in order to face my father one very final, bitter time. And there we fought! There, men and women died beyond counting. This was even more chaotic of a battle than the one we fought at Arthur's war camp... and, this time, Arthur held in his right hand the terrible sword Caledfwlch. My own sword, Albion, was a much longer blade and somewhat anachronistically designed. In comparison, Arthur's famous sword was an ancient Roman gladius... decorated with a Latin inscription, all along the flat of the blade. It was a short sword meant mostly for stabbing rather than for slashing. Whereas, more versatile was Albion since it could slash as well as stab. My sword fell upon his, as I gripped Albion in both of my hands to deliver the most savage blows that I possibly could. Neither of us had a shield and we gave little thought to defense by this point in our conflict. There would be no further peace talks, no hope of a united country now. This was a duel to the death, and the apocalyptic end of the era of Logres. Unless I could survive this, Camelot was doomed! To my advantage, my father was weak and sickly to a great extent... but I was naturally weak and sometimes sickly due to my albinism, and without Albion I would never have stood a chance pitted against such a skilled warrior as my father was. I found a dark sort of humor in the fact that a snake, an adder in fact, had in the end caused the end of Camelot. For I still did not believe that either my father or I were going to survive this clash of ours. “That was the last betrayal of yours, Mordred! You are drunk from too much power, mad with a lust for blood, and so very perverse that it sickens me to think of it. We could have mended this country together! Whatever drove you to seek my death through such deceitful means?” That was what Arthur said to me as we fought, as my sword and his met time and time again upon the plain of Camlann. I replied, angrily: “I did nothing of the sort! Would it matter to you at all if I told you that my soldier was only trying to kill a snake that was about to bite you?” to which my father laughed dismissively and yelled: “I saw no snake there! If there was, you should have said something. No! I no longer choose to believe, your poisonous words.”
And, he proceeded to try his best to kill me. We spoke no more, except to exchange threats upon each other's lives whilst the screams of dying soldiers resounded all about us. Our duel took us to the base of a large rock that was many times larger than the tallest man, on a stretch of the plain were several large rocks lay strewn about. Arthur kept coughing rather violently, but he refused to back down as we fought against each other. The clanging of our blades was like a deadly, terrible music that was ringing in our ears loudly. How I longed for that music to cease! But it did not... it could not... until one of us was no more. We wounded each other in ghastly ways, our blood spraying this way and that until it covered us both. So many scars I would have after this was over... if I still lived! The physical ones would be only the least that I would bear. I broke our silence by shouting: “When will it be enough for you, father? I told you already, I did not try to kill you! I never wanted to kill you.” to which he answered, hatefully: “And I never wanted you at all!” The madness that he was sometimes prone to had returned. This had always been the side of Arthur that I hated the most... his inability to control himself once this insanity or whatever it was overtook his reason. I began to cry, for that last thing he had said to me hurt deeply. I shouted: “Why, father! Why have you never loved me as a father should? I did you no wrong as a child! And am I so different from a child now?” He would not answer me... continuing his attacks, which now had become wilder and less predictable than before. I was barely able to avoid dying at the point of his sword on several occasions. He was like a man who had lost his mind entirely. After some time he did yell the following at me: “You abducted my wife, with the help of my champion... a man who was once like a blood brother to me... you turned her heart against me! You raised an army of barbarians to usurp my throne, whilst I was away. You spirited my wife away to who knows where, and replaced her with a child. A little girl, Mordred! Someone you merely took a passing fancy to. Then, you lied to me during our peace talks and assumed I was foolish enough to actually believe you! The saddest part is... I very nearly did.” I knee precisely what to say in response, and so I screamed back at him: “It was not I who turned Guinevere's heart against you! You did that all by yourself, when you allowed your sick jealousy to drive you to order her execution, as well as mine. You tried to kill your own wife! Over a matter that had passed between she and I before she was ever married to you at all. It was for nothing! Nothing! As for the Saxons, what would you have done in my place... allowed them to do as they pleased, until it at least occurred to you to go forth and fight them? And, how many times would you beat them back only for them to return stronger and stronger each time! One day, you would see it was not enough to simply fight them, but by then it would be too late. Peace, is always a better choice, than war! Had you half of Merlin's wisdom you would realize that. But you don't! You never did. And how dare you judge me for choosing Caitlin as the High Queen's regent... at least I never raped my own sister like you did. After all that is how I was born, was it not?” This caused my father to flew into a rage like none I had ever seen him in before. He did not even attempt to deny the thing which I had just accused him of. Instead, he at last swung his sword so ferociously at me... a mistake since he tried to deliver a slash with a sword that was meant only for stabbing... that it struck one of the rocks behind me. The shock of that blow caused Arthur to drop his sword, leaving him without a weapon. Only a small distance away there were several dead soldiers and their discarded weapons laying upon the ground. Arthur ran in that direction and I so gave chase. He grabbed a lance from the dead men... and aimed it towards me as I approached. He then lunged at me with all his might... and I leaped out of the way of his lance. I ran back towards where the dead men were, and braced myself for his next attack. I realized then that I should have run behind him after dodging his attack so that I could deliver a killing blow. But it was too late! Arthur turned around, and charged at me with the lance, once again, this time with much greater speed. I tried to do the same thing I had done before, and jump out of the way... but as I attempted this, I tripped over one of the dead men's arms, which caused me to become unbalanced and actually fall towards Arthur's lance. I felt the awful pain as it pierced my body, breaking bones as it drove its' way towards my heart, which it missed.
Arthur withdrew the lance after that, and discarded it. He stood there, watching... expecting me to fall over dead from my near-fatal wounding... and I was bleeding horrifically from the hole in my body that he had inflicted upon me. But Albion, which I still gripped tightly in my right hand, my left arm having grown numb suddenly... gave me a sudden surge of unnatural strength of a sort that I had never known before. I charged at Arthur, or rather the white sword did, using me as merely a vessel for its' power. He tried to move out of the way, but could not do so quickly enough. Albion sliced into my father's head... delivering unto him a truly gruesome looking wound... which caused him to collapse unto the ground as the blood from his head wound poured down over his face. He was dying for certain now! Suddenly, I witnessed the blade of my sword turn black rather than white, and soon the whole weapon was black. It then screeched and shrieked dreadfully, and began to feel too cold to hold any longer. I let go of it, and it fell to the ground just before I likewise fell over. I fell hard, landing almost upon my face before I did manage to get myself upon my back instead. Nearby, Arthur lay in the identical position and neither of us could speak so much as a whisper. Suddenly, Llwch Lleminawg arrived at the scene and he carried in his hands Arthur's sword Caledfwlch. He approached my father and knelt next to him, saying: “I arrived too late to be of any use to either you... or Mordred... it seems. Forgive me, my old friend! If it may be a consolation, at all, you may know that the battle which was raging at Salisbury Plain has ended with the deaths of both the Saxons, and the nobles who faced them there. The remaining Saxon forces, all across the country, are said to be retreating back in the direction of the Orkney islands. Either they will venture back over the sea from there... or they will lick their wounds and wait to grow stronger before being any sort of a menace again. Either way, the crisis regarding them is over for now. What would you have me do with your sword? For it appears that you are dying, my friend.” I could hear Arthur say next in a low and weak sounding voice that was trembling a bit as he spoke: “Take it to the Ladies of the Lake, and if God be good then they will keep it in their care until perhaps one day another might prove worthy of it. I was unworthy, and I have paid for that with my very life.” His champion said kindly: “I will be as you ask, old friend! Ever as you ask.” Then... Llwch glanced over at me, began to cry, and walked away. As he walked away I could hear him shriek: “Oh God! That I have lost them both this day, is more than my heart can bear. God, please, give me the strength to go on! I must do as Arthur asked me, after all.” I did not expect anyone else to show up, after that... but then... three did. One was my aunt Morgan who took the now black sword Albion off of the ground, to hold in her hands. She wore a long black flowing robe with a hood that was thrown back from her face, and her expression was one of deepest sorrow. She did truly look like what she actually was... the embodiment of death itself, with her chalk white skin, raven black hair, and black eyes. The second person was a woman I did not recognize, who announced herself as the Queen of Northgalis, but refused to give her name. In truth, I did not recognize her, nor had I ever so much as heard of her before. She was taller than my aunt was, by at least a head, and she wore a long sky blue gown with a silver girdle about her waist. She was light of skin and had long straight flame red hair that fell down her back like a curtain. She was not beautiful exactly, but rather she did seem mostly statuesque in a way. Her eyes were hazel colored, and her voice was severe in its' tone. The third person in their company was another woman who announced herself as the Queen of the Wastelands. She also, did not state her name... but elaborated, that she was the aunt of the late Sir Peredur, he having so died at the end of our quest for the Holy Grail. She wore a long red gown, with gold trim, and had a golden colored girdle about her waist. She was also light of skin, but had a freckled face and long wavy blonde hair as well as blue eyes. She at least I had heard of! So great, had the wasteland in Lyonesse become... that it grew into a place now called the Wastelands, which became a separate domain from Lyonesse as time went on. Peredur's aunt was chosen to be its' ruler, and she grew into a bit of a recluse after that. It took, clearly, the present calamity to bring her forth from her solitude. The two queens did walk over to Arthur, pick him up, and then carry him to their nearby wagon... which was drawn by two white horses.
Morgan leaned over to look at me and smiled after that. She clapped her hands, and three women who wore black robes just like hers approached and picked me up off the ground to carry me away towards a second wagon that was waiting nearby also, this one drawn by two black horses. I blacked out after that and believed that I had died finally from the loss of so much blood. When next, my eyes opened... I was in a stone chamber with light shining down from a square opening in the ceiling. I could not move and I was laying upon a stone altar of some kind. There were four massive square pillars... around the dais on which the altar sat... and, to my right, I saw that across the room there was an identical dais and another set of four pillars, as well as another opening in the ceiling for light to come down through. An altar did sit atop that dais also... and upon it, I saw my father's motionless body. It seemed that at least I was able to turn my head. I could hear footsteps, and a familiar voice, as my sweet Kundry walked into the room whilst singing softly. She wore a long black sleeveless gown that was elegant and flowing, and her feet had black slippers upon them. Her long golden hair was done up in an elaborate coiffure that was quite beautiful and elegant. Her cherubic face was smiling brightly... but tears filled her pretty blue eyes. She kept singing whilst I heard more footsteps. The next person to so enter the room was Caitlin, who wore also a gown and slippers identical to that worn by Kundry. Her long curly red hair was still the prettiest red hair that I had ever seen! I looked deeply into her green eyes, and smiled. She smiled back at me as best as she could, but began to sob and cry most terribly... so terribly, that she fell to her knees from the way that her body shuddered from the deep sorrow that was consuming her. Kundry began to cry also... and the sound of the two little girls giving in to their pain over my impending death, which I knew had to be coming swiftly, was breaking my heart as well. I began to cry too, and it hurt very much for me to do so because of how very much pain I now realized that my body was actually in. My aunt Morgan, so entered the chamber next, in the company of Melisande. They explained to me that Guinevere was well, and that she was journeying to the temple of the Ladies of the Lake where she planned to spend the rest of her life as a member of their spiritual order. I was happy to hear that, and said as much. “You are, as you might guess, dying Mordred. Your father has died already... a good while ago, actually. We could do nothing to save him, even here at Avalon. You, we were able to stabilize for a time... but, even all of our considerable arts of healing, and magic, cannot keep one who is destined to die from passing on into the other world. Soon, you will have to go with Arawn! He will take your father with him as well, and your souls, your spirits, shall venture together with him into the hereafter. Beyond that, even I who am Death cannot say what awaits you! Just know that until the end, we will be here with you, to keep you happy... and keep you company.” She then walked forward, and kissed me upon my lips, before standing behind me. She called for Kundry and Caitlin to come forward. Melisande left the chamber to fetch a stool and brought it over so that the two children could use it in order to reach... so that they could likewise give me a kiss upon my lips. Both of them kissed me in turn... but Kundry after doing so wrapped her arms tightly around me and said that she did not wish to let me go. “I cannot live without you! I don't want to live without you! Oh, Arawn, please let me go with him... let me go with my husband... please. If I have to live in this world without him, I don't want to live any longer at all.” Caitlin began to scream after so hearing that, and declared that she did not want to go on any longer either. Then, on the far side of the chamber before me, a rift in reality appeared and a portal to the other world opened. Out of it, stepped a man in a hooded black robe whose skin appeared to be made of living shadow. It was Arawn, at last. As he came forward, at his side was the familiar figure of Judith... she, who was known as the Holy Grail. I smiled when I saw her, and she smiled back at me, saying: “Time to go, Mordred! Are you ready?” The two children rushed over, crying: “Not without us!” and Arawn agreed to let them come with me. As he touched me, I could move my body again, and I got up from the altar, all the pain in my body vanishing. My wound was healed! My father walked over to my side, his wound also having been healed. Kundry held my left hand, and Caitlin my right. All of us, together, entered the other world... passing into death.
Published 23rd Dec 2022
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25th Dec 2022 1:47am
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