Part 4
When he awoke he took a swim in the stream before deciding what next to do. He thought for some time. Where was he to go? The witch had told him that his mother was Queen Morgawse of Lothian, but where in the world was Lothian? Was it here on the island of Logres, or was it in the lands of Gaul or Thule of which Naman had told him? He finally decided to wander until he could find Lothian or at least find where it was. So he set out in the opposite direction from his old home in the fishing village. One day after about two months of wandering, he was walking along a dirt road that led through what seemed a never-ending pine forest. He had already spent three nights in it. Along his way he had come upon several villages and one big town called Chester. He had stayed away from Chester, not having ever seen even a hundredth of the amount of people that lived there in any one place before; but he had stopped in all the villages he had passed and asked his question, “where is Lothian?” Mostly he had been met with curses, kicks, and shouting, but several times there had been people kind enough to speak with him. From them he had learned that Lothian was certainly in Logres, but none had known in exactly what direction. Some had pointed north, some east, some south, and a few even back west where he had come from. So he had kept going onward in hopes of finding Lothian or someone who knew where it was. He had also heard tell of the Knights of the Round Table who had been sent out by the High King Arthur of Logres to subdue evil and champion the wronged and helpless. He had heard of the great King Arthur ever since he could remember. The news of him had even reached the seclusion of his little tiny village where he was spoken of as if a god. Now he had been traveling through these endless woods for days, living off berries and honey which had stolen from a bee’s nest the first day in the woods at great cost. He was now whistling and trying to retell to himself the story of Boudicea, the great warrior queen who had fought the Romans when they had invaded Logres. He was just getting to the end where Boudicea and her warrior maids poisoned themselves after their defeat, when a trumpet blast sounded out and he heard the galloping hooves of a horse and the shouts of men. An arrow thudded in the ground next to him as he looked up and saw a knight in blue armor come charging at him followed by four armed men on foot. They had apparently came from a large blue and white pavilion that stood up above the road and which Mordred had not seen as he walked along. But he had no time to think. The knight was bearing down upon him. He sprang for the nearest tree and leapt and grasped a branch just in time, for the lance of the Blue Knight struck the tree trunk between his legs, sending the knight flying through the air. Two of the men rushed to help him up while the other two ruffly seized Mordred and dragged him from the branch onto which he had jumped. The Blue Knight was spluttering with rage and fury as his squires helped him to his feet, “You miscreant varlet! Cowardly dog! Your afraid to fight and then you unfairly overthrow an honest fair-playing knight who never did harm to a soul! You shall be flogged and hung for this! Have him bound, Roger! Baldwin, bring back my horse before he escapes! Amrist and Gilbert, help me to my pavilion. I will have refreshment before rendering punishment to this young scoundrel I’ve caught.”
The Blue Knight half walked and was half carried back to his pavilion and one of the men began to roughly bind him to a nearby tree to await punishment. Suddenly the man called Baldwin came galloping back on the knight’s horse and leapt down and blew an enormous trumpet that hung from outstretched branch of a nearby tree. The Blue Knight came staggering quickly out of his pavilion. “Knight or villein, Baldwin?” He asked.
“It’s a knight, my lord.”
“Damn it all. I’m hardly fit to fight a milkmaid. But help me onto my horse, Baldwin, and you, Roger, give me my lance.” In a minute the Blue Knight was saddled and armed and rode out to meet the wayfaring knight. Baldwin blew another blast on is trumpet and ran to join his comrades at the top of the bank to watch the fight. Mordred could just see over the bank to the road below from where he was tied. He could see a little mounted knight, bearing a purple shield emblazoned with a griffin in white, preparing to charge. His heart was in his throat with fear that the small knight would not be able to beat the Blue Knight, even though he was bruised up. A moment later the two knights charged flinging up a cloud of dust that concealed the two knights. There was a huge crash and a groan and then the dust cloud subsided and, O joy! the Blue Knight was down in the dust with the other knight’s lance sticking into his chest. The four squires fled into the woods at the sight. Mordred called out to the knight below at the top of his, afraid that he would leave him tied there. But the knight spurred his horse up the bank and when he reached Mordred, he jumped down from his horse and deftly cut the cords which bound him to the tree. “What’s your name, boy?” asked the knight, “I’m Sir Gaheris of the Iron Lance.”
“And I,” answered Mordred proudly, not liking Sir Gaheris’ apparent pried in his title, “am Mordred, the son of Queen Morgawse of Lothian.”
Sir Gaheris seemed surprised and amused at this claim and said, “I, myself am the son of King Loth and Queen Morgawse, yet I have never known that I had a brother named Mordred. But then…” he paused thoughtfully a moment and then said to himself, “yes it’s possible, yes I think it is.” Then to Mordred, “tell me your story, lad, but first let’s go to the pavilion and see what refreshment there is there.” They into the pavilion, Mordred a little distrustful but also very hungry. They found there a table all set as if for the Blue Knight’s luncheon. They began to eat, Mordred at first being to busy eating to talk but soon began his story. He told of what he had heard concerning his discovery by Polydore the fisherman and of his friendship with Naman, and then of his accidental killing of Polydore and the chase and death of Naman and how the witch had told him his mother’s name and how he had set out to discover her. All the time Sir Gaheris would shake head and say to himself, “Ah, yes.” When Mordred reached the end of his tale, Sir Gaheris said, “I believe you now Mordred. You must be my lost younger brother and now I must tell you why I think so. Years ago the enchanter, Merlin, told King Arthur that a child born on Mayday that year would be his death, so King Arthur sent men all over Logres to find all the babies born on Mayday. I remember how they dragged you from our mother’s arms and carried you away. Then all the babes were set on a ship into the Irish channel to be drowned. Yet I think there are yet some born on Mayday who were missed. I sometimes wonder if Sir Lancelot were born that day, though I love him like a brother. And now Merlin is gone and good King Arthur is the greatest Christian king and is repentant of what he did under Merlin’s advise. But we
