Lord.”
That made Britt feel a little better. She knew Gawain had a complex about pets—given to him by his pig of a father, King Lot. Still… “It is no excuse to kill an innocent, Gawain.”
“I know,” Sir Gawain said. He squared his shoulders and looked out at the feasters. “I am prepared to face the consequences of my terrible actions, My Lord. Should you choose to strip me of my knighthood and exile me from Camelot, I will understand. Now, at least, I will accept the consequences with honor.”
Britt tapped her fingers on the chair.
What was she supposed to do?
Britt knew Gawain wasn’t a killer. The boy was sick with guilt. It was clear he hadn’t enjoyed the experience. But she was trying to hold her knights to a higher level of integrity. That was why she established the Round Table. What would the legends have her do?
Britt rolled her head as she thought. The legends would probably have her temporarily exile Gawain, but he wasn’t even 20-years-old yet, and he had gone through so much under his tyrant of a father before arriving at Camelot. It was incredible he had retained his gentleness.
“Arthur,” Merlin whispered. Even though it was barely above a hushed utterance, it was loud in the silent hall.
Britt ignored him.
Blaise said to rule with my gut and my head. Very well, let’s try it .
Britt slid Cavall’s head off her lap and stood. The sound of her chair scraping on the ground was ominous in the oppressive silence. Britt crossed the short distance between herself and Sir Gawain.
She stared at the young knight, who looked back at her with trust and despair.
“Sir Gawain, prince of Orkney,” Britt started, drawing whispers from the crowd. “You have made a bad choice and spilled the blood of an innocent. In accordance with your actions, I will place upon you a ruling as your King,” Britt said.
“Yes, My Lord,” Sir Gawain said, his eyes falling.
The hall fell silent when Britt smoothed Gawain’s hair from his face and—in the most grave, elegant way she could—kissed his forehead. “I grant you a boon: a gift of mercy,” Britt said, smiling fondly. “For I know you, Sir Gawain, and I know that you will not make this mistake again, and that you will spend the rest of your life struggling to make amends for it. I only strip knighthood from those who take delight in wrongdoings. That is not you,” Britt said. “Instead, I dub you—evermore—the Ladies’ Knight. You will be charged with fighting for those who have no one to speak for them. You will oversee their quarrels, and act as the champion for any lady who requests it. Finally, I tell you to be known as the most merciful knight in my Kingdom. These things I charge you with, and I congratulate you on successfully retrieving the white heart. Well done, Sir Gawain.”
The hall exploded into cheers. Sir Gawain, weak kneed, dropped to Britt’s feet. Britt crouched and hauled him upright, holding him aloft. “What do you say, ladies of Camelot. Do you accept your champion, and agree to his charge?”
The ladies whispered and looked wide-eyed at each other—shocked, apparently, to be so openly addressed for their opinion.
“We accept,” Queen Adelind said, standing to address the hall. “Arthur is wise beyond his years, for Sir Gawain is a good knight and will do us justice. But, let there be no more bloodshed of the innocent.”
“Agreed!” Guinevere said, also standing, though she nervously licked her lips and looked to Britt.
“Then it is settled. Ladies, I give you your champion,” Britt said, raising Gawain’s arm in the air, inciting a new wave of cheers.
“You don’t have to do this, My Lord. I don’t deserve it,” Sir Gawain said to Britt over the roar of the crowd.
Britt gave Sir Gawain her truest smile. “People usually don’t deserve it, that’s why it’s called mercy. I hope you will remember this feeling, and offer mercy to others as a result—even when they hurt you and cause you
That made Britt feel a little better. She knew Gawain had a complex about pets—given to him by his pig of a father, King Lot. Still… “It is no excuse to kill an innocent, Gawain.”
“I know,” Sir Gawain said. He squared his shoulders and looked out at the feasters. “I am prepared to face the consequences of my terrible actions, My Lord. Should you choose to strip me of my knighthood and exile me from Camelot, I will understand. Now, at least, I will accept the consequences with honor.”
Britt tapped her fingers on the chair.
What was she supposed to do?
Britt knew Gawain wasn’t a killer. The boy was sick with guilt. It was clear he hadn’t enjoyed the experience. But she was trying to hold her knights to a higher level of integrity. That was why she established the Round Table. What would the legends have her do?
Britt rolled her head as she thought. The legends would probably have her temporarily exile Gawain, but he wasn’t even 20-years-old yet, and he had gone through so much under his tyrant of a father before arriving at Camelot. It was incredible he had retained his gentleness.
“Arthur,” Merlin whispered. Even though it was barely above a hushed utterance, it was loud in the silent hall.
Britt ignored him.
Blaise said to rule with my gut and my head. Very well, let’s try it .
Britt slid Cavall’s head off her lap and stood. The sound of her chair scraping on the ground was ominous in the oppressive silence. Britt crossed the short distance between herself and Sir Gawain.
She stared at the young knight, who looked back at her with trust and despair.
“Sir Gawain, prince of Orkney,” Britt started, drawing whispers from the crowd. “You have made a bad choice and spilled the blood of an innocent. In accordance with your actions, I will place upon you a ruling as your King,” Britt said.
“Yes, My Lord,” Sir Gawain said, his eyes falling.
The hall fell silent when Britt smoothed Gawain’s hair from his face and—in the most grave, elegant way she could—kissed his forehead. “I grant you a boon: a gift of mercy,” Britt said, smiling fondly. “For I know you, Sir Gawain, and I know that you will not make this mistake again, and that you will spend the rest of your life struggling to make amends for it. I only strip knighthood from those who take delight in wrongdoings. That is not you,” Britt said. “Instead, I dub you—evermore—the Ladies’ Knight. You will be charged with fighting for those who have no one to speak for them. You will oversee their quarrels, and act as the champion for any lady who requests it. Finally, I tell you to be known as the most merciful knight in my Kingdom. These things I charge you with, and I congratulate you on successfully retrieving the white heart. Well done, Sir Gawain.”
The hall exploded into cheers. Sir Gawain, weak kneed, dropped to Britt’s feet. Britt crouched and hauled him upright, holding him aloft. “What do you say, ladies of Camelot. Do you accept your champion, and agree to his charge?”
The ladies whispered and looked wide-eyed at each other—shocked, apparently, to be so openly addressed for their opinion.
“We accept,” Queen Adelind said, standing to address the hall. “Arthur is wise beyond his years, for Sir Gawain is a good knight and will do us justice. But, let there be no more bloodshed of the innocent.”
“Agreed!” Guinevere said, also standing, though she nervously licked her lips and looked to Britt.
“Then it is settled. Ladies, I give you your champion,” Britt said, raising Gawain’s arm in the air, inciting a new wave of cheers.
“You don’t have to do this, My Lord. I don’t deserve it,” Sir Gawain said to Britt over the roar of the crowd.
Britt gave Sir Gawain her truest smile. “People usually don’t deserve it, that’s why it’s called mercy. I hope you will remember this feeling, and offer mercy to others as a result—even when they hurt you and cause you
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