Excerpt from Book 6: Arthur’s Parentage Revealed

One feature of Gifts With Hard Swords is that all of the major characters from all the disparate storylines come together, as demonstrated by this scene. Any reader of Le More d’Arthur will recall the scene in which Arthur learns of his true parentage, and Ulfius famously “appeaches” his mother, Igraine, which we have my version of here.This scene, with its clear comparison in the literature, offers a clear view of my approach to humanizing the characters and attempting to make them real people, not just flat archetypes.

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Arthur found his jaw shaking. His breath came in and out with a stuttering hiss as he leaned forward, hands against the wall. His head pressed against the stones, eyes gazing at the floor.

He had dubbed Griflet a knight and sent him off with a promise to return after the first joust. The boy had looked heartbroken, but was forced to agree. His face grew red, the center of his lip lifted in a snarl. He said it was his right to kill the knight who had killed Sir Miles, and Arthur should want that, and furthermore should encourage his knights, instead of being obvious about doubting their abilities. Then Griflet caught himself complaining and shut his mouth. His eyes looked away and the breath seethed from his nose. Arthur held, wanting to explain further, then decided to simply leave the room.

Arthur returned to his chamber with a queasy stomach and increasing nervousness. He had about a half hour alone before he was to meet Igraine and have Merlin introduce him as her son. When his mind turned to Griflet and his chest tightened, he made effort to force his thoughts away. 

Taking a glance at himself and seeing nothing amiss, he went to sit on the edge of the bed. The late afternoon sun streamed into the room in straight shafts of light. He kept his back to the glare. After a few minutes staring at the shadows on the floor, he put his hand over his eyes. He breathed in and out five times, then stood. He moved to the door and opened it. The guards were there. He was escorted to his parent’s chamber.

His father shifted uncomfortably in his new armor. His mother picked at a fold in her robe and let it fall. She picked it up again, moved it and dropped it. Kay was there.

“They’re all here,” his brother said. “King Lot and the woman who was here earlier. Did you know she is his wife?”

“Lady Margause? Is King Lot’s wife?”

Kay widened his eyes and nodded. “Yes. She’s Queen Margause. She was here before because he sent her to find out what kind of person you are.”

Arthur opened his mouth, but choked. He coughed. “I trust she did.”

“Her sister is Queen Morgan, also known as Morgan le Fay, because she is such an accomplished sorceress. So accomplished, she is said to be more fay than human.”

Arthur raised his eyes and nodded.

“She is married to King Uriens. And with her came Queen Igraine, former wife of King Uther Pendragon, and apparently,” Kay cocked his head, “your real mother.”

“What is she like?”

“White, like a bone. And scared. I tried to touch her arm to show her in and she jumped like I lunged at her. Otherwise,” his hands opened near his face, “white hair, white skin, white dress. She’s like a statue that’s been at the bottom of a pool for twenty years.”

“You are a very vivid describer of people,” Sir Ector said. 

Kay tilted his head. “Thank you, Father.” He turned back to Arthur. “Bretel was like a puppy around her. I’ve never seen him like that.”

“He was her foremost knight,” Arthur said. He turned to Sir Ector. “And how are you doing, Father?”

“I’m fine. Much better. Still can’t….” He tried to reach his right hand to his left shoulder. “Maybe you won’t call me father after this, hey, will you?”

“I will always call you father,” the king said. “And how are you, Mother?”

“Oh, I’m fine. These things happen. Now, let me just….” She came closer and began adjusting Arthur’s surcoat. He straightened and gazed at her face, close to him. “And you don’t worry at all about calling us anything once you meet the queen. We’ll see how things sort out when—” Her face crunched, she went silent, turning away. Tears streamed from her eyes.

Arthur put his arms around her and pulled her close. He pressed his face into her curly hair and kissed her. “Mother,” he said.

She pulled back, sniffing wetly. “But I’m not, am I? She’ll be….” She took out a handkerchief and blotted at her eyes. “You’ll probably want her to move in here, and that’s fine. That’s right.”

Arthur’s hands rubbed his mother’s arms. “I do want to know her, I won’t lie. But you raised me and I will always have you closest in my heart. You too, Father. Come here.” He had one arm around his mother and held the other open. “I know this must be very hard for you.”

His father did not move, but continued fussing with his armor. “It’s not,” he said. “It’s perfectly right. We knew this day would come.”

Arthur reached out to Kay and his brother came over, putting one arm around Arthur and the other around his mother. 

“Would you die if you came over here and hugged us all, Father?” Kay asked.

Sir Ector yanked at his belt. “I can barely move in this awful new armor.”

“We’re all over here,” Kay said, “and you’re across the room.” 

Ector let go his garb and shuffled toward them, eyes directed at the floor. 

“Your old armor looks like you pulled it off a dead knight,” Kay said.

“Dead twenty years,” Nerida added.

“Better than this garbage,” Ector said. “You can’t move in it!” He put his arms around his wife and sons. “There,” he barked, “is everyone made complete?”

Arthur sighed. “You have helped me relax, at the least.”

“Ready to go meet the family?” Kay leered.

Arthur stood straight. The four of them stood back, falling into public persona. They opened the door. The guards escorted them into the hall.

Along one side stood King Lot, regal and stiff, hands on the shoulders of Margause. With them were their three sons, Gawain, Agravain and the other whose name Arthur couldn’t remember just then. Gawain’s bright eyes followed Arthur as he approached. Standing to their right was King Uriens and a beautiful woman with bright golden hair and next to them, a young man with dusty blond hair. Between the groups stood a tall woman covered in a white gown, worn with yellowed seams. Her hair was white and straight and she stood exceptionally still, head back, wide eyes of pale blue against reddened surrounding skin. She stood stiff, gaze following Arthur as he moved. On the other side of the room stood Ulfius, Bretel, Accolon, Archbishop Dubricius and others of Arthur’s fellowship. Merlin stood proudly in the center, arms holding his staff. His stance was relaxed, body hanging like a cloth from the tall post.

Arthur moved to King Lot and bowed. “King Lot, and,” he directed his glance to his wife, “Queen Margause.” She bowed quickly and made a wan smile. “Thank you for making the journey.” He returned his eyes to King Lot. “I am glad for us to have a break from,” he rolled his hand, “trying to kill each other.”

Lot smiled grimly. “It is a welcome change. What have you brought us here to tell us?”

Arthur looked up. “You don’t know?” He glanced back to Merlin. “You will find out shortly, I know.” Just before him, the three boys’ eyes stared at Arthur with eerie intensity, but none more than the eldest, whose shoulders were wide and neck thick. Arthur smiled and nodded at him, then moved on to Queen Igraine, who stood in the middle. 

He tried not to look at her face with too much intensity, but when he beheld her eyes, the curve of her lips and bridge of her nose, he saw echoes of his own visage. Her thin body seemed to waver in a current, like a reed. He bowed to her. “Queen Igraine,” he said. “It is an honor to meet you.”

She did not raise her eyes. “And you, your highness. Tintagel is all I have.”

Arthur leaned forward. “I’m sorry?”

Her livid eyes turned to him suddenly. “Do you mean to divest me of my lands?”

A tinge came into Arthur’s brow and his stance melted. “Not at all,” he said. “I mean no harm to you.” Next to him, the blonde woman glared with intensity.

Queen Igraine lowered her eyes and her body retreated. Arthur gazed at her waist, afraid to raise his eyes, while the tingling tightness remained at the bridge of his nose. He hung still for a moment, but his mother offered him no further opening, so he moved down the line to stand before the blonde woman, King Uriens and their son.

“King Uriens,” he said, “and you must be Queen Morgan.” They bowed duly. “I understand that you have powerful talents.”

“Indeed I have,” she said, lowering her head while her steely eyes remained on him. 

“Perhaps I will get to experience one of your enchantments some day,” Arthur replied. He directed his gaze to her son, but she spoke again.

“Perhaps you already have.” 

He lifted his eyes again to her, lips tight, but remained smiling. “And this is your son?”

“Yvain,” King Uriens said. “He is set to become a very distinguished knight.”

“I can see that,” Arthur replied. “Hello, Yvain.” He made more pleasantries, while Morgan’s eyes greedily took in his details, then made his way across the room to greet a couple from his home.

“Pedrawd and Tibby,” he said, embracing both. “How wonderful to see you again. And is this Lucan?” He gazed down at the young man, about fourteen, lanky and tall with blond hair that fell in his eyes.

“That’s him, all grown up now,” Pedrawd said. “We were hoping he could join your court.”

“Of course he can,” Arthur said. “We would love to have him. And he can be with Bedivere.”

“I guess we’re going to find out who your real mother and father are now, are we?” Pedrawd asked. 

“We always knew you were different,” added Tibby. “I know you went through a lot of confusion about that.”

Arthur lowered his eyes, lips pressing together. His vision blurred, but he fought it back and raised his head. “Thank you,” he said, smiling and letting his hand pat their shoulders. He nodded and moved over to stand amongst his knights, Ulfius and Bretel moving aside to make space. Accolon stepped close behind him.

“Arthur, that’s her,” he whispered with terse urgency in the king’s ear.

His eyes turned toward Morgan, who held her face away.

“Who?” Arthur asked.

“The woman from my dreams,” Accolon said. “That’s her. It’s not like her, it is her.”

“We’ll talk later,” Arthur said. 

Merlin moved into the center of the hall, his great staff in one hand. He held his other up to command attention. Talk in the room hushed. All drew closer into a large circle.

“Lords and ladies, kings and knights, it is now time to settle the lineage of our king, so that we can mend the differences that have marred our country and answer any lingering questions as to whether he should truly be our sovereign.” 

He paused and lowered his forehead, looking with gravity to all gathered. “You should know truly that Arthur is the son of Uther Pendragon, fathered upon the Duchess Igraine within three hours of her husband’s death. To prove this I will call upon the people who were there and have knowledge of the events. Ulfius, please come forward and tell us the truth of what happened.”

Ulfius stepped forward proudly. “On the night the duke was killed, King Uther Pendragon, Merlin and I rode out to Tintagel, where the lady Igraine lay. We were in the guise of Duke Gorlois, Bretel, their knight, and Jordanus. Igraine welcomed Uther into her bed while Merlin and I waited close by.”

Morgan’s sharp inhalation hissed through her teeth. Margause’s jaw set firmly while Igraine remained still and hard, staring at the floor. Bretel’s eyes were small dark points.

Merlin spoke. “The next morning I told Uther that he had fathered a child in Igraine, and he owed this child to me as the price of his night of pleasure. I made Uther and Ulfius sign a paper attesting to this fact on that day. I believe Ulfius has that paper with him now.”

“I do,” said Ulfius, holding it out. “Here it is.”

Merlin took the paper and approached Igraine with it. She drew back quickly, arms rising across her chest, eyes widening but not rising to look him in the eye.

“Easy my lady, you need have no fear of me,” Merlin said.

“All should fear you,” Igraine whispered. “I beg you, stay far from me.”

Arthur’s brow wrinkled as he watched her reaction. Ulfius’ face fell long and his eyes rolled. Morgan stepped forward and took the paper.

“Is this the night that this happened to you?” Merlin asked. Morgan held the paper before her mother, who raised her eyes briefly before turning her face away.

“That is the night the strangers came,” Igraine said. “The night my husband was killed.”

 “Strangers!” Ulfius chortled. “She knew who it was.”

“It is true the Duke Gorlois was killed three hours before,” Merlin said, turning back, “and Igraine and Uther married within thirteen days, making sure the child was legitimate when he was born. When he was, I had him delivered to me at once. He was brought to me by Queen Igraine’s daughter. I ask you now, Queen Margause,” he pulled his hood up over his head, “if I am the man you delivered the child to in the hallway.”

Margause looked up. She squinted, mouth falling open. Then she composed herself and stood straight. “You are he.”

Merlin turned away, pulling his hood back with a sweep of his hand, and strode across the room to Sir Ector. “And Sir Ector, were you not summoned by King Uther Pendragon just before the time of your son’s birth? And did he not ask you to care for a male infant, telling you to never let that boy know whose son he was, or that he was not your own son in any way?”

Arthur felt his shoulders growing heavy, pulling forward, and he knew he must lift his gaze from the floor. 

“He did at that,” Sir Ector said. “I had no idea why the high king would wish to see me, but he asked me the very things just mentioned. Then, later, a high-born man came to us with the baby as we were in line to have Kay baptized.” He gestured to Kay, who stood behind him. “He said we should baptize the new child Arthur.”

“And am I that man?” Merlin asked.

Ector jumped back because Merlin had changed appearances while he was looking elsewhere. None of them had seen the transformation. Merlin was now the high-born man who had delivered the infant Arthur to them.

“Yes, you are him,” Ector said. Something in the corner of the hall fell with a bang, causing everyone to look. When they turned back, Merlin was again in his familiar appearance.

“And is this the child you raised?” Merlin gestured to Arthur. 

The king’s face was held tight and motionless. His chest rose and fell rapidly.

“That is him, grown to manhood now,” Sir Ector said. 

“I know well that is, for I was that man who brought him to you,” Merlin said, “as well as the man who Igraine’s daughter Margause delivered the infant to in the hallway. This is the son of King Uther Pendragon and the Queen Igraine, brother to Margause and Morgan.”

Margause raised her eyes to Arthur at once. She gasped and glanced away immediately. Arthur’s eyes widened and lowered, face growing hot.

“You’re my uncle?” Gawain shouted. King Lot stepped forward and put his hands on the boy’s shoulders.

Glancing at Morgan, Margause saw her lips curl with the slightest smile. Margause’s eyes turned down quickly, then widened. Her hands instinctively covered her belly.

Merlin came to Arthur and extended his hand. Arthur raised his head and composed his face, the base of his neck trembling slightly. He took Merlin’s hand and was led to stand before Igraine. “Queen, this is the child that you gave to me eighteen years ago, and so I give him back to you, much changed.”

“She knew all along,” Ulfius muttered.

All stood for a moment as the silence left by the words stilled the air. Arthur turned.

“Ulfius?” he asked.

The knight stepped forward. “She knew it, and said nothing while your wars raged on. In fact, this is the falsest lady now living. She knew whose son you were and said nothing while her son-in-law, King Lot, made war on you and killed so many of your men and my friends. And his own men. So many good men of this kingdom, dead because she had to shut herself away.”

Arthur turned to him completely. “Ulfius, beware what you are saying. You speak a great word.”

“I know full well what I am saying.” He stepped forward, eyes steady, and pointed. “Of all people here, she is the most traitorous to you. Uther told me she knew it wasn’t her husband who came to her, and with him so wanton of her beforehand, how could she not know? She even asked if it was him.” He lifted his head to her, raised his voice. “Why did you not say so, lady? You could have cleared up these mysteries before the men of this country made war on your son, where so many gave their lives for nothing.”

The words seemed to take time to clear out of the air, as all hung silent, eyes wide and mouths open. Arthur turned and made to speak, but croaked. He swallowed. “Lady, can you answer this?”

Igraine’s delicate face, her straight nose angled down, slowly rose, blue eyes icy and still. She regarded Arthur with a distant gaze as her chest inflated, then collapsed as she sighed. “My king, I am acquainted with Sir Ulfius and know the loyalty to which he serves his lord, far beyond what he knows to be right. And I see what welcome is to be found in the court of any descendant of Uther Pendragon. I am a woman, and as such am not allowed to engage in battle, where God could show which of us is right, but if he were to offer his gage, I am sure some man here would take up my quarrel.”

Ulfius ripped his glove from within his belt and thrust it out to her. “Here is my gage!” he yelled. “Here is my gage!”

Arthur turned black eyes under angled brows to him.

“Poisonous snake!” Morgan hissed.

King Lot stepped forward to snatch the glove from his hand. “I will take this combat on the queen’s behalf.”

“There is no need,” Igraine’s quiet voice said. “Merlin knows well, as do you, Sir Ulfius, how you came with Uther Pendragon in the guise of my husband to Castle Tintagel while my husband was dead three hours before. You make free with the deception now, but you have kept it hidden all these years. You knew very well I did not know. That was the crux of the plan. To trick me. You knew well enough to keep it secret for years, even from Sir Bretel, your friend.”

Ulfius lowered his eyes. Bretel stood with arms folded tightly, gaze fixed on the knight.

“Uther pushed this child into me without my knowing, then stayed quiet while I believed I bore the fruit of,” she shivered, “I dare not imagine what. He used that to make me give it away this child. My child.”

“And you gave your child away!” Ulfius said. “What kind of woman is that?”

“But that was Merlin’s aim, was it not?” She pointed to the wizard, who remained still as stone. “To make me welcome into my arms he whom I hated above all? To make me disgusted with my own child, so I would happily part with it? And you, exalted knight? I believe it was your idea to force me to marry the man who had destroyed my peace and happiness?”

Ulfius lowered his eyes and his face went white.

“While the man I loved was killed to make all of this happen. Dead forever.”

“Our father,” Margause uttered.

“Vicious beast!” Morgan’s shriek caused all to flinch. “Creature beneath slime!”

“I do hope you feel pride in your accomplishment.” Igraine’s voice was low and emotionless. “And now I learn with certainty that Uther Pendragon was indeed the father of my child.” She nodded slowly, tight mouth twisting. “He lied, and you lied, and Merlin, of course.” Her cold eyes turned to the wizard. “We expect that of the devil, for he is beneath the lowest creatures we call alive. And you, Ulfius. You do his bidding without question.”

Ulfius’ face remained lowered. It darkened to red.

“We do not know with certainty that Merlin arranged for my husband to be killed, but were we to find that out next, would any among us be surprised?”

Merlin remained without moving. 

“So if you, proud Sir Ulfius, wish to pursue the charge you have brought against me, I must say dying at the stake would be preferable to remaining amongst the monsters I find myself surrounded by.”

She lowered her head and took a step back. Morgan came forward and draped her arms over her shoulders. Margause stepped to the other side, arms wrapping around her waist. The daughter’s faces were wet.

Ulfius’ brow was low over his staring eyes and his lip hung out beneath his mustache. He huffed out wounded pants of breath, then tightened his face and raised his head. He stepped forward, shoulders rounded. “I can only apologize for my words,” he said. “I drop my charge and I apologize, fair lady. Merlin is far more to blame than you are.”

“And you,” Morgan snarled.

“And me,” Ulfius repeated. “I am to blame and I am very sorry.”

Merlin stepped forward. Arthur was beside him, listening. “Dearest Igraine, you would not know that I did fourteen years in the form of a lowly creature in penance for the deception and anguish my actions caused you. And please know that everything I have done has been to bring about this king, who will bring great transformation to this entire kingdom in ways that will change the country for the better for all time.”

“I suppose you deserve some sort of prize,” Morgan hissed.

“You only had to destroy our family to do it,” Margause said.

Igraine’s shoulders lifted and fell as her icy eyes stared at the floor under a brow marked by vertical lines. She took a breath and lifted her still face to gaze at Merlin. 

“I am grateful to have answers for what has befallen my family. What killed my husband and destroyed the peace we knew and loved so that this one,” she glanced at Arthur, “could be born. Now, if you have harvested all that you need from my unwilling body, I ask only that you leave me alone and stay far from me. You, Merlin, please.” She raised upturned hands. “None of us can escape your tyranny, but I only beg humbly, as one powerless before you, that you show mercy and never again visit me in any form, even if it is to offer a boon, as you see it. The kindest thing you can do is remain as far away as possible. You have your king, that is what you wanted. Now please leave me.”

She turned, supported on either side by her daughters, and headed toward the door. Kings Lot and Uriens followed after. Merlin turned to Arthur, but the king clenched his fists and turned away. He saw Ulfius standing alone not far, head hung, arms hanging loose. 

Arthur stepped close and hissed in his ear. “Is this how you thought I wanted to meet my mother?”

The knight showed a face red with anguish to him, but Arthur turned away at once and ran to the back of the group walking out, stopping behind King Lot. From the corner of his eye he saw the parents who had raised him follow his movements, but he could not stop. 

“I’m sorry, Queen Igraine,” he called. 

The group stopped, saw him. The men stepped aside and the queen turned. Her body cringed, held itself small and contained, but she raised her face to look at him.

Arthur’s voice sounded weak. “I hope you will join me for dinner tomorrow. It can be just us, or,” he glanced to Morgan and Margause, “your daughters as well.”

“I was hoping to return to Tintagel tomorrow.”

“Oh. Of course. I don’t want to keep you. I was just,” he lowered his eyes, his lip trembled, “hoping to get to know you.”

She turned her gaze down and paused a long moment. Morgan stood beside her, fiery eyes glaring.

“It has been a lot of excitement,” Igraine said. “A lot of….” She shook her head. “A return to feelings I had hoped were left behind. I have barely seen any people at all for the past fifteen years.”

Arthur winced, smiled, pulled his cheeks back, then relaxed his face. He nodded. “I am sorry for what happened to you. I have heard about it, but I’m sure I have no idea what it was like. I feel….” He placed his fingers on his chest, “I hope you don’t blame me for it, but I can’t know what you feel.”

She remained with her gaze turned away. “These are the things I must think about. I know that,” she shook her head slowly, “you above any will bear the brunt of Merlin’s plans. At this time I wish only to get back to my home.” She raised a thin hand. “We will speak again.”

“Of course.” He grasped her hand gently and kissed it. “Safe journey and a pleasure to know you.”

They left the room. Arthur turned, his eyes wide and rimmed with red, and saw Kay and his adoptive parents walking out the far door. He ran to them. 

“Are you going to eat?” he asked. “Can I go with you?”

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