The Knight before the Table

By John Pateman-Gee

Camelot is being built, the king returns from overseas victorious and Tor is still a squire. Fed up with expectations, still feeling guilty over stealing the fake sword despite doing it to protect Arthur we find Tor still believing he is not yet good enough to be a knight. Instead a chance to escape himself is presented in the form of a note from a lady he never managed to find years ago. What he discovers will threaten friendships, his own life and the very core of Camelot. As Tor struggles to find the right path he can not work out if Merlin is helping or mocking him and his very own quest leads to more danger and secrets.

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Pateman-Gee
• Release date: Jan 17, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370435487

John Pateman-Gee

It is said there is a book in everyone. Always up for a challenge I decided to have a go and found not only did I find a book, I have found writing to be a wonderful experience. It is just brilliant when parts of the story fit together. My first book The Knight Behind The Pillar is a story I had thought about for years and comes from my love of King Arthur and the ideals of knighthood. The problem with the story of King Arthur is its size and so I found Tor, one of the knights of the round table, one that you perhaps have not come across before. So I decided to find his story as well.In the day time I am planning officer and live the UK with my wife and children. I hope you enjoy.John [e-mail]

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The Knight Before The Table

By John Pateman-Gee

Chapter 1: 24 Years

The wind gently pushed its folds, teasing the monster within, a piercing eye, sharper talons. Until at last a draft revealed the adornment upon its linen fabric, a two-headed eagle, poised to strike. An emblem of power and authority, ready to grasp dominion, but the banner had yet the moment to fly as the breeze dropped and the bird of prey disappeared into the shadows again. Released from distraction I returned my focus to its owner in the chamber.

The scene that did fully unfold before me defied all my preconceptions. Despite the proximity of his realm to my father's holdings, I had never seen King Lot up close during my childhood. Even when I was present at Bedgraine eight years ago, during his surrender to Arthur, I hadn't laid eyes on him. I had journeyed alongside Kay for countless years, encountering numerous lords, yet the opportunity to observe our adversary had eluded me. Truth be told, my days were often occupied with avoiding my father, running errands, and simply trying to survive the ceaseless challenges of our world. That reality hadn't changed much over time, even now.

King Lot's appearance shattered my mental image of him. He possessed a slender frame and refined features, a far cry from the battle-hardened warrior I had envisioned or the way my father had long ago described him in fits of anger. There were no battle scars as I might have expected, only faint traces of age on his otherwise pale countenance. He sported well-groomed, short black hair, lightly touched with hints of grey, and a meticulously kept beard—something I could only dream of achieving myself, but had neither the time nor patience for. This was not the thunderous and fearsome figure of legend; this was something more insidious.

What intrigued me further was the presence of a walking stick by his side, though it appeared more like a prop for conversation than a necessity for mobility. It made me wonder about the story behind it. Moreover, his accent caught me off guard initially. King Lot spoke with a refined, southern-inflected manner, a stark departure from what I had expected for someone born and bred in the far north. I recalled his years of service to Uther in distant lands, which likely explained this influence on his speech. It was not dissimilar to my own accent, which, after years of wandering this vast land, had become increasingly difficult to pinpoint to any specific region.

I watched from the shadows, acknowledged only because I was in Kay's company and trusted enough to guard his back. As any squire should. The presence of King Lot was unsettling, for I had no desire to reveal my identity as the son of a man who had clashed with him over territorial disputes countless times.

Lot stood beneath a stone archway, one of three that separated the room from the outside world and a balcony that extended beyond it. The cliffs outside the balcony added an ominous edge, as if they were ready to swallow anyone who ventured too far. The sound of waves crashing against the rocks below provided a relentless backdrop to the scene being played out before me. It was a vantage point that offered a clear view of the sky, but it came at the expense of warmth. The room was sparsely furnished, featuring only a table with parchment, a solitary candle, and notably, no chairs.

Kay, ever the commander, advanced with deliberate steps, shedding pleasantries in favour of threats. Over the years, I had learned to discern the signs when Kay was about to assert his authority. Beside me, Bedivere mirrored my concern, and we silently calculated our odds of survival in this tense encounter.

My lord, Kay demanded attention, his tone uncompromising, Have you not listened to any of my words? Do you think I will stand here and accept your contempt for me and, by association, the king? Your answer now.

Lot's response was dismissive, marked by a deep breath, rolled eyes, and a lack of emotion. No. he replied curtly, waving his stick as if to swat away our presence. He offered a perfunctory bow before stepping away from the archway toward the table.

Kay's frustration was palpable. You have no choice, he growled, his face flushing with anger.

Lot, with a casualness that bordered on mockery, changed tack. Then pray tell, what was the purpose of the question when you've already decided the matter? He darted toward Kay with startling speed, causing Bedivere and me to instinctively grip our sword hilts. Kay, however, remained resolute, his gaze locked onto Lot's smiling face, now uncomfortably close.

I was being polite. Kay replied through clenched teeth, not cowed by Lot's proximity.

Then don't! Lot retorted with equal venom, swiftly retreating to his table. If you want something, take it. Get to the point, no delays, no fuss. Just firm, strong leadership. I beseech thee. Lot's disdain for politeness was evident. He viewed it as pointless and weak, unworthy of true leaders.

Kay's resolve was unshaken as he took some time to asserted his demands, stepping forward with purpose. His voice rang with authority as he outlined his intentions, taking a third of Lot's men to defend Lord Alderan's land, to be returned in accordance with the alliance treaty signed at Bedgrainne. He reminded Lot of his duty as a loyal vessel to the king and emphasised his own authority as the king's representative and constable, especially in the king's absence. In essence, he made it clear that his orders were non-negotiable. I admit my mind wandered back to the banner and the sound of the crashing waves outside before Bedivere sharply elbowed me to wake me from distraction.

Lot, ever the provocateur, revelled in baiting Kay a little longer before responding. His lips pressed together, his beard gently stroked, and then a smile crept back onto his face. Why, of course, take them, brother of my king, he said with a calculated air of condescension.

Kay spun around having enough of Lot’s blatant lack of respect and he set off towards the door, You have the thanks of your king and we shall take our leave. He said without meaning. Visibly exasperated he marched to the door.

Wait. Lot commanded innocently.

Lot's unexpected command stopped Kay in his tracks, and even I braced for an explosion. Lot moved purposefully to a cluttered table, scattering papers to the floor in his haste, and retrieved a folded and sealed parchment. He approached Kay once more, presenting the paper with an air of feigned innocence. I would like you to take this message to my son, if you'd be so kind, Lot requested.

Kay's response was laced with disdain. I have better things to do than be your messenger, he retorted.

Lot, with an air of smugness, explained his predicament. I would myself, but you are taking my men and what remains I need to protect the king's coastline. Besides, my king your brother, perhaps, with his so called powerful magic sword, has returned to our shores. No doubt along with my son. I’m sure you’ll want to reunite your family soon, well if you regard him as that, and shall see my son to deliver my message.

It was a dangerous game of words, and Lot's stick emphasised his point. Wide-eyed, I exchanged glances with Bedivere, both of us unsure how to react to this blatant provocation. Kay surprised us all by responding with a disturbing, hollow laugh that echoed through the chamber, unsettling everyone present, including Lot.

With an air of indifference, Kay asked, Was there anything else?

I remained tense and vigilant. Lot paused at first considering Kay in a different light to be assured he was safe to look away from, but he did answer. Yes actually there is, I have a gift for my son as well, a horse. You’ll find it waiting outside and if you are being so generous with your time, I would be very grateful if you might take it for him as well. It’s a fine horse. Gawain has certainly proven his worth of it. Even as this far north, tales of his triumphs have travelled the land.

When Kay finally turned to leave, it seemed like the ordeal was over, but Kay, as unpredictable as ever, stopped and turned around once more on reaching the door. Oh and one thing you should understand. He called back. Years ago my brother, the man you dare suggest is anything less, gave you a chance. Let’s just say you have just had my one chance. In my family, we don’t give another. And I suggest you should assume if I have to enter this forsaken wretched excuse for a castle again it will not be for the sake of a second chance. With the last shot Kay walked out not waiting for an answer. I followed, pucking the message from Lot’s hand on the way without comment and avoiding eye contact.

Back in the open expanse of the timber-enclosed yard, I couldn't help but appreciate being alive. In my years of travelling with Kay, I had encountered every possible combination of fortifications—stone, wood, clay—of all sizes and conditions. Eventually, they all began to blend together, making one place look much like any other.

Bedivere efficiently organised our men, wasting no time in preparing them for our mission. I retrieved our horses from the stables, and there was an additional gift waiting for us. A horse named Gringalet, an unusual French charger. I wondered how Lot had come across such a horse. It was a fine steed, but it would have to wait to be presented to Gawain. Our immediate duty was to defend the southern coast.

I kept my distance from Kay, who was clearly in a foul mood, directing his frustrations and colourful language at everyone. Eventually, while it wasn't my favourite thing to do, I was grateful to be back in the saddle knowing that I had emerged from that tense encounter in one piece.

Indeed, by my standards, it had been a good day, marked by the fact that I was still alive. Survival always topped my imaginary checklist, and it was a list I found myself consulting on a daily basis. Today was particularly notable because the settlement hadn't been set ablaze, no blood had been spilled, an extra point for no injury for me, and, as an added bonus, Kay hadn't resorted to punching or killing Lot.

Today's score card was certainly better than a few days ago when I had to physically restrain Kay from a confrontation with an obstinate village leader. On that occasion, I had the misfortune of having my nose knocked as a token of gratitude. The apology, if you could call it that, came much later in the form of a drunken, grunted acknowledgment from Kay after he had cooled down.

It’s perhaps a good thing Arthur has returned. Bedivere offered and disturbed my thoughts.

He had caught up to Kay and me, and together, we led the new army through the dense forest.

Not pleased with the way I'm handling things, Bedivere? Kay quipped.

Bedivere sensed Kay's improved mood and replied with a playful smile that reached his bright blue eyes, My lord, I wouldn't dare comment, for fear of offending you. Kay burst into genuine laughter this time.

But on a serious note, Bedivere continued, prompting a more thoughtful atmosphere, It's perhaps a good thing that Arthur has returned. There's growing discontentment with Lot; he openly defies the King, and we're only here because the fourth, or was it the fifth messenger, returned without an answer.

He's just sore because his son has decided to stay and serve Arthur rather than returning home. Gawain has seen what Arthur has achieved, taken the ideals as his own and is all the better for it, Kay responded, downplaying Bedivere's concerns.

Bedivere furrowed his brow. Perhaps, and I agree with you on Gawain. But I believe there's more to it. Being a bit awkward is one thing, but this time, he outright denied the King's claim to rule, and in front of you, the King's brother, he concluded with unsubtle empathise.

He's finally figured out that Arthur is my adopted brother. Took him long enough. It's old news and unimportant, Kay dismissed casually.

No less concerning, I would say, Bedivere persisted patiently.

No, Kay reflected with a slight sigh. It's something to mention to Arthur. But Lot holds no real influence or power anymore. What can be done? He can report to those who might still support him, let him claim he had a bit of fun at my expense and look brave for it. It doesn't change the fact that he's bitter from surrendering and will never admit, with his own pride, that he was wrong, despite the passing years. Even his own son doesn't want to return to him now that he has the choice. He can give him all the gifts he wants.

Still, I wonder, Bedivere continued, calling across again from his horse, He mentioned Arthur's sword as well, and clearly, its reputation was on his mind. Without its presence, I wonder if he might decide to do more than just talk.

Kay gave me a sideways glance, a knowing look passing between us. He knew, as well as I did, that the scabbard Arthur carried was not the original one gifted to him. The mere mention of the sword still tugged at my guilt-ridden heart, and I couldn't help but grimace each time the subject arose. I had stolen the original scabbard and lost it soon after.

Stories about the rumoured magical scabbard had spread far and wide, often confusing it with the idea that the sword itself was the source of Arthur's protection and power. To those who had never wielded a sword, such tales were endlessly fascinating.

Kay leaned back in his saddle and replied to Bedivere, Then my brother had better not have lost it overboard.

And with that Kay also ended any further conversation on the matter by upping our pace and went on to ride ahead. My horse willingly pulled to follow and disappointedly I had to let her. Over the years my relationship with Kay may have altered to one of friendship, often I was the one to ensure he made it back alive from excess of ale, but my affiliation with those with four legs had gained no ground.

We chased Kay and my thoughts considered the next few months ahead. I hoped all future days continued to go as well as today, but I was truly more confident this was not going to be likely. A large number of ships had been savaging the east coast and Kay had decided enough was enough. The men gained from Lot would join others awaiting back at camp. Then onwards to the south to await the likely attack to the coast from the Danes or whoever else it might be.

Potentially it was a fruitless exercise to sit and wait, and some could have argued it was a poor plan or not even a plan at all. Only Arthur pleaded that he would protect the innocent and it did not matter if it was one or many. In turn this very commitment had gained him a reputation no other king had ever enjoyed. People had flocked to his banner to be a part of it.

There were times it seemed that my life was being driven insane by the noise of crickets in the night. Then there was the never ending packing of tents and blankets that did nothing to stop the damp from the ground. We travelled across the east coast and it had in fact been some time, at least a year if not more, since I had last seen or spoken to Arthur himself. It seemed I knew him better through the messages he sent Kay than seeing him. The king needed to go overseas often to both fulfil a promise made to King Bors who supported Arthur at Arthur’s first battle years ago. While the senior King Bors had now died and his son was soon to be of age, Arthur continued to protect Bors lands. To fight on their lands and to stop anyone else thinking of raiding ours, he had declared, and yet here I rode eastwards again to protect our shores.

To endure the bitter cold of the nights, I wrapped myself in a thick, forest-green woollen shirt, paired with a well-worn, soft brown leather tunic. Despite having the means and opportunities to purchase new garments, I clung to this attire. It wasn't a vibrant red that I might have favoured once; instead, it symbolised my recent pursuit of a modest life. In reality, it was more about maintaining the facade of humility.

I was a man who had seen a little more of life's twists and turns. My once-pale face had gained a touch of weathered maturity, its once-ethereal paleness now tinged with the subtle lines of experience. My raven black hair had grown more refined, still a little unruly. Trouble still found me, but I had learned to navigate it with a certain grace and I found myself caught between two worlds. On one hand, there was the life of a squire, yearning for acceptance among those of noble rank. On the other hand, I held a burdensome title and to make things more complex I was counted as a friend to the king. Still officially a squire, I was older than many, yet younger than some. However, it wasn't lost on me that those older than me seemed to dwindle with each passing day. I grappled with the transition of becoming the elder, with the younger ones now viewing me as their superior. In the end, I embraced the solitude that came with it. While others indulged in ale and frivolous pursuits, I dedicated myself to honing my skills, resulting in a lean and robust physique forged through both battle and my duties.

I spurned all offers of knighthood, including the earnest proposal from Kay, which came a couple of years after the Battle of Caerleon. I even had