"Hello, Modred. Come to wish me success in my new career?"
I have come to put an end to you, Pendragon. You, and your damned notions of a New Camelot."
There was no doubt in the crowd's collective mind who the bad guy was in this little scenario.
Modred was roundly booed.
It made no impression on him as he drew his sword and pointed it at Arthur. "Well, Pendragon? Do you dare fight me? Or will you be revealed to all here as the coward that you are?"
There were yells and catcalls as someone shouted out, "Teach him a lesson, Arthur! Clean his clock for him!" And the crowd, which thought it was watching another staged event, took up the encouragement.
Arthur started to rise and Gwen put a hand on his arm. "Arthur, please. Don't do this. You don't have to do this."
"Yes," said Arthur simply. "Yes, I do."
He reached down and picked up his helmet-similar to Modred's, but with a more rounded top. As he began to put it on, the crowd roared its approval.
Merlin, on the other side of the field, froze in horror as he saw Arthur descend from the royal box, Excalibur already drawn from its sheath. "Oh, no," he breathed. "The great fool. We can put all of that nonsense behind us, and he still insists on playing the warrior king/' He started to make his way through the crowd, urgently.
Arthur carried a shield on his left arm, as did Modred. It was wood covered with leather, and it was formidable. Under the helmet his face was set in grim lines of determination. In his right hand he held Excalibur with such ease that you'd never expect it would take an exceptionally strong man to wield it at all with two hands, much less one.
They faced each other. The sun was overhead. Arthur circled slowly while speaking in a conversational tone of voice. "Modred, you haven't a prayer against me. You're a puppy. You were a puppy in your earlier life and you're a puppy now. You were probably a puppy in every other incarnation you've had in between. Please don't take offense. It's just the way you are. But I can live with it if you can."
"The only thing I can't live with is you!" snarled Modred, and he charged.
He took three steps forward and immediately staggered back, blinded by the glare of the sun. Arthur, who hadn't moved, grinned and said, "I could have killed you just then, son. First rule of battle-make certain that your opponent's eyes are in the sun, not yours."
Modred attacked again, barreling forward and swinging his sword. Arthur sidestepped the charge completely, and as Modred went past, swatted him on the rump with the flat of Excalibur's blade. The crowd roared. "Come now, Modred. Let's end this nonsense," said Arthur reasonably. "You don't have a prayer."
"No, Arthur. It's you who has no prayer. But you're too stupid to know it yet."
Modred came forward, sword swinging like a windmill. It bit deep into Arthur's shield. Arthur cut across with Excalibur, fully expecting to slice Modred's shield completely in half. Instead Excalibur glanced off the shield without even so much as making an impression.
Arthur was clearly taken aback by it. Modred enjoyed the small victory. "Found something your precious blade can't cut through? Here's something else." Modred's sword flashed and Arthur parried the blow directly, rather than taking the force of it on his shield. The two blades clanged together. Excalibur should have cut the other sword off at the hilt. It did not.
They separated and stepped back from each other. Arthur was now a bit more wary. His superiority to Modred in fighting skills was not at issue in his mind. But these weapons were on a par with his own, and that bore further investigation.
"You like my toys?" crowed Modred. "They're presents, Arthur. A legacy if you will. The last artifacts from Morgan Le Fey. She passed them on to me so that I could lay you low for all time."
His own armor was beginning to feel heavy on him as Arthur grated, "Come on. Are you planning on talking me to death or are you going to fight?" Fiercely, summoning all the power at his command, Arthur attacked.
Meanwhile Merlin made it to the reviewing stand, climbing in next to Gwen, who was wringing her hands. Percy was standing there, watching the proceedings as well. "Gwen,"
demanded Merlin, "what in hell is going on? How could you let Arthur get himself mixed up in some stupid fight?"
"How do you propose I stop him?" asked Gwen reasonably. "You think I want him out there?
When Arthur gets an idea in his head, nothing can dissuade him."
"Tell me about it," said Merlin mournfully. "Still, I don't like this one bit. ..." His voice trailed off, and Gwen turned to him in alarm. "Merlin, what's wrong?"
"There's magic in this box. I can sense it. Hell, it's Morgan, I can smell it." He turned slowly and faced Percy. Quickly he leaped up onto the seat of Arthur's chair, putting himself on eye level with Percy. Gwen looked on in surprise as Merlin grabbed Percy by the face and peered deeply into his eye. "Good God, no! He's been hypnotized."
The sudden clanging on the field alerted Merlin. He turned and watched in horror as the battle was truly joined.
Arthur was fully on the offensive now. He drove down hard on Modred, Excalibur pounding on Modred's shield again and again. Wunk! Wunk! Wunk! Huge chunks of the shield flew as Modred was not even able to mount a defense to slow Arthur for a moment. Back, back down the field Arthur sent Modred. And then he drew back Excalibur for another blow, brought down the sword, and totally misjudged the distance. Modred dodged and Arthur swung at empty air. The miss sent him off balance and he stumbled and almost fell. Only his warrior's reflexes saved him from tripping and hitting the ground, but by the time he recovered Modred was upon him. Modred swung hard and Arthur took the brunt of the blow on his shield. He felt the impact far more than he should have, the blow sending vibrations of pain along his left arm. Surprised, he wheeled back, and his breath came in ragged gasps. He was sweating so heavily it was pouring into his eyes. His vision was starting to fuzz over and he felt a ringing in his ears. He couldn't understand it. Lord knew the armor was heavy, but certainly he wasn't this out of shape.
Modred attacked and they alternated now. Modred slammed at Arthur's shield, Arthur hacked at Modred's. And this time, step by step as they exchanged blow after blow, it was Arthur who was beginning to retreat. The crowd shouted encouragement, roared its approval for Arthur's bravery and catcalled their disapproval for Modred. They were having the time of their lives, because after all, they knew the whole thing was rigged ahead of time and that Arthur would triumph.
It was knowledge that Merlin did not share. Staring into Percy's eyes, he spoke in low tones, then shook Percy's face once and said, "Percy! Come out of it, man!"
Percy Vale blinked slowly, the fog lifting from his mind. His eyes widened. "Modred! Where did he. . . ?" Then slow horror started to register on Percy's face. "Oh, God. Don't tell me."
He looked out on the field and saw the two combatants, heard the ringing of metal on metal and the thud of metal on wood. "Tell me that Arthur didn't drink anything I gave him."
Gwen wasn't sure what was wrong, but she saw true fear in Percy's eyes, and she said,
"Yes. You gave him some cider."
"It was poison," said Percy.
Gwen's mouth flew to her hands. "Percy, how . . . how could you-"
"It's not his fault," said Merlin quickly. "He was hypnotized. It was against his will-hell, I suspect that Modred didn't even tell you that you were putting poison in. You only realize now that you're fully conscious what it must have been." Merlin shook his head. "This is all my fault. I was the one who was so concerned about history repeating itself, and here I set us up for it and didn't even think of it."
"Merlin, what are you talking about?" asked Gwen.
Merlin chucked a thumb at Percy. "The fates can have a sick sense of humor. I know, I've met them. Percy here is an accountant/'