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“You can be my First Knight when I am king.”
“If you become king.”
“WhenI am king.”
Lancelot huffed a breath.
“You are very confident.”
His tone implied that Arthur might be overly confident. But even he knew without a doubt that the young warrior would achieve greatness. So perhaps the confidence was not misplaced.
“I know what my purpose is,” Arthur said. “I will not stop until I achieve it.”
“Which is?”
Arthur looked away from Lancelot finally and into the horizon.
They were traveling northeast to intercept a Saxon army moving south. Lancelot did not know who gave the commands to do so. King Uther was in the West, busy waging his own battles. He suspected that Arthur took orders from no one. He did what he felt was right.
“To unite these isles and bring peace to all,” the warrior answered.
“I want to build bridges and roads. Give the poor a means to live, to till their own land or find productive work. I want to erect fortresses and walls to secure our borders. Build great fleets of ships to defend our coasts. And when we are a mighty, prosperous kingdom, I want to explore new lands and establish trade and enrich our culture. There is so much to learn and do.”
Lancelot felt his gaze on him again.
“I need good men to do it with me. I cannot realize these goals on my own. You are the best knight I have ever met, Lancelot. A better warrior than me. I would much rather you fought alongside me than against.”
Lancelot finally met his gaze.
“I would not fight against you unless I had good reason.”
“Then I hope never to give you reason,” Arthur said solemnly.
Lancelot looked away again at that.
He could never hold Arthur’s gaze for long. It was like looking directly into the sun. He was ever in danger of being struck dumb and blind.
They were quiet again for a while, until Lancelot said slowly:
“I do not fit with your men. I am not like them. I do not know how to banter as they do. I like to keep to myself.”
Arthur did not immediately say anything back. But when he did, he did so thoughtfully.
“I do not expect you to be like them, or anyone else but who you are. I admire you foryou, Lancelot. You are…a mystery, but I know I can trust you. Iknow. You can trust me too. I will never let you down.”
Lancelot believed him. He trusted Arthur implicitly, even though he didn’t understand it. He did not trust easily.
And so, he joined Arthur’s ranks. Became a constant fixture at his side. True to his own predictions, he never truly fit in with the other men—Arthur’s bosom brothers. Arthur and he had their own dynamic. Lancelot couldn’t describe it if pressed to do so. It simply was. They were ever in tune with one another.
They traveled across the isles together. Fought and won battles together. Rescued and rebuilt villages together.
It wasn’t until Uther died, supposedly poisoned by Saxons near Verulamium, that Lancelot realized who Arthur truly was—the Bear Prince. Uther’s heir.
Arthur Pendragon.
He did not know how he could have missed it, but in his defense, Arthur went everywhere as the “Bear.” No one ever hinted at his parentage or referred to his family name. Besides, Arthur was always one of the men. Aye, he was their leader, but it was not because he or anyone else commanded it, it was simply because they chose to follow him.
Just as Lancelot did.
