side by side with the likes of Galahad and Kay and, perhaps the greatest of them all, Lancelot du Lac.
It did not last.
There were two men in the chamber. Arthur himself, seated at the great oak table, the other with his back to Alymere. There was something uncannily familiar about the man, he realised, as he knelt before the king. Arthur rose to stand over him. He said something, but the words did not carry.
Bors stopped shy of the men, and turned to face Alymere. The big man blocked his view of the two men behind him. 'This is your second test, lad, do not fail yourself,' he said when Alymere was close enough to hear his low-pitched warning. 'Not when the sting of this morning is still so keenly felt.'
Alymere did not understand what was happening.
Bors stood aside to let him approach the king.
He walked slowly down the aisle toward Arthur's chair.
Again, Alymere was struck by the familiarity of the penitent's shape, even with his head down and shoulders stooped, although it wasn't until the armoured man rose and slowly turned to face him that he recognised who it was. In that moment the world ceased its turning, and then the man broke the silence.
'Nephew,' he tilted his head slightly in place of a bow. 'You truly are my brother's ghost, standing in his old clothes. For a moment I could almost believe…' His voice trailed off and he shook his head slowly, in seeming disbelief. 'Remarkable.'
Alymere's mouth refused to obey him. In his mind he offered the simple acknowledgement — 'Uncle' — in response, but shock would not allow him even that little dignity. He tried to cling on to Bors' warning, not wanting to fail twice in the eyes of the king in a few short hours. But it was hard. He could not move. He could not talk. He stared at his uncle's face, looking for murder in those cold grey eyes. He saw only gentle mocking amusement, which was in its way far worse.
Arthur rose from his seat. 'Well met, Alymere. I trust you have had a good afternoon with Sir Bors?'
'Yes, sire,' Alymere said, unable to take his eyes off his uncle.
'Good,' the king said. 'Upon learning of your intentions to take the oath and pledge yourself to Camelot, your uncle rode day and night, arriving but a few short hours ago. He was keen to bear witness to the ceremony.'
'Your father would be so proud to see you now,' Sir Lowick said, and Alymere's mind reeled. He wanted to scream. He felt as though he had been punched in the throat. He couldn't breathe.
'Kneel, lad,' Bors urged, placing a meaty hand on his shoulder. Alymere felt his legs buckle. He stumbled forward a step and sank to his knees. The big man stepped back as the king moved to stand before him.
Arthur drew the huge blade, Excalibur, from the sheath at his hip and held it over Alymere's head like the threat of execution. 'I asked you privately if you knew the Oath, but now, in this most sacred place, the heart of Camelot and in turn the heart of our great nation, and before blood witnesses, I would hear you swear to uphold it. Think hard before you do this, boy, for believe me, I will hold you to every part of it. These are no rash promises you make today; with these words you bind yourself to me and to Camelot for the rest of your days. Do you understand the importance of such a pledge?' Alymere nodded. The king held his gaze. He thought for a moment he glimpsed a flicker of pity there, but it was gone before he could be sure. Pity, because surely Arthur knew what Alymere would have to forego to uphold the promises he was a being asked to make, and pity because there was no way he could refuse to make those promises, either. 'In making the oath you swear to set aside personal disputes and live by the Oath of Pentecost,' the king explained. Again Alymere nodded his understanding. There was nothing else he could do. This was why he had come to court. 'Then, Alymere son of Roth, tell me, do you swear to hold life sacred above all else?'
'I do so swear,' Alymere said, trapped by that simple promise. The king was no fool. In demanding his oath he was bound now, and all thoughts of justice for his father, of reclaiming his birthright, were stymied. To raise a sword against his uncle now would be tantamount to treason and raising his sword against the king himself.
As though reading his mind, Arthur continued, 'Do you swear that treason shall have no place in your heart and that you will honour and serve the will of Camelot above all others?'
'I do so swear,' Alymere said, raising his head proudly. If he could not honour his father by reclaiming his home, he would find another way. There was always another way.
'Do you swear that you will offer mercy to all deserving of it?'
'I do so swear.'
'Do you swear that you will offer succour to those in need if it is yours to offer?'
'I do so swear,' the words came easily to him now.
'Do you swear never to take up arms in wrongful quarrels for love or worldly goods?'
'I do so swear.'
'Do you swear never to stand by idly whilst such evils are perpetrated by others upon the weak and innocent?'
'I do so swear.'
'And do you so swear to be noble, worshipful and just in all things?'
'I do so swear,' Alymere concluded.
The king withdrew Excalibur and sheathed the great blade without the tip of the sword touching so much as a hair on his head. He bade Alymere rise. 'I will hold you to this oath, Alymere, for now you are no longer the son of Roth, but a son of Albion. And as such you are my ward in your father's absence. Think on this oath when you retire tonight, boy. Think on what it means and how it will change your life. For when first light comes you will enter into the service of your uncle, Sir Lowick.' Arthur raised a hand to forestall any argument. 'I would have you serve him faithfully as squire and learn what it means to be a true man and worshipful knight. There is much yet you need to learn — you have shown us that — and accordingly, you shall be bound to his service for two years and a day; then, when you are released, you are to present yourself here for judgement. Should you be found worthy, you shall be asked to renew the oath you have just sworn and invited to take your father's seat at the table, as is your birthright. If not, you shall be given a hot meal and released from your oath to make your way in the world alone. Serve your uncle well, learn from him, and in that way you will serve both your king and your country. That is my judgement. Do you accept it?'
And with those few words Alymere's world was wrenched out from beneath him.
He reached out to steady himself.
Now he understood what Bors had meant by his first test.
He wanted to scream,
If this was the path to righteousness and becoming a true man, he did not know if he had the strength to take the first step, let alone to walk the path to its end.
He didn't know what he'd expected; to imagine that Arthur might simply finish the oath with the words 'Arise, Sir Alymere!' and congratulate him was naive, especially after the morning's events, but this was cruel. This felt like the greatest betrayal imaginable. After everything he had told him, how could the king make him swear his oath and then deliver him unto the usurper like this?
It was all he could do to nod, but Arthur pushed him to answer, 'Yes, sire.'
The great chamber, the castle beyond it, the bailey and the courtyards and practice fields, shed every illusion of homeliness in favour of its true cold stone face. No matter how desperately he had tried to convince himself otherwise, he didn't belong here.
'Thank you for this chance to honour my brother's memory, sire,' his uncle said, his delight obvious as he offered his hand to the boy. Alymere shook it off, gripping instead one of the high wooden backs of the chairs beside him. All colour had drained from his face. The chamber reeled around him. He was breathing too quickly and too shallowly, and couldn't catch a proper breath. 'The past shall remain where it belongs, I have no dispute with the boy. My blood flows through his veins, after all. We are kin. We stand together, we fall together. I shall see to his education as though he were my own son. When he comes before you next he will be worthy of the knighthood, this I swear.' Lowick bowed low.
'That is my hope,' the king said, gravely. 'There is much for him to learn, and more to unlearn from what I have seen, but he has courage, some skill and no small heart. All of which he will need if he is to rise to claim his father's seat.'
