Simon Green - A Hard Day's Knight

“So who else wants to find Arthur?” I said. “Name some names. I might know some of them.”

“Personally, or professionally?” said Sir Gareth. “I can remember when the good guys fought the bad guys; now it seems like half the time we end up working together to take down some outside force that can’t even tell the difference between good and evil. But, our main enemy at the moment used to be one of our own. Jerusalem Stark, the Knight Apostate—rogue, heretic, and blasphemer. Once our brightest light, our most accomplished warrior, now our greatest failure and most dedicated enemy. He was the best of us until he had his crisis of faith. Now the man who swore to follow our cause all his life has given his life to our destruction. Sworn to see us all dead, down to the last man. And to achieve that, he has shown himself ready to join with the worst there is. Poor Jerry. We tried to help him after it all went wrong; but he didn’t want to be helped. If he finds King Arthur first, he’ll kill him, if only to spite us.”

“Why?” I said. “What happened, to turn him round so completely?”

Sir Gareth paused, considering his words carefully. “We had gone to war, in another dimension. Worlds in the balance, whole civilisations at stake, everything to play for. We fought valiantly, with Jerusalem Stark at our head; and the enemy could not stand against us. So they fought dirty. They took Jerry’s wife, Julianne. Turn back, they said, or we’ll kill her. But we couldn’t turn back; it would have meant throwing away everything we’d gained. So many lives lost for nothing and so many more put at peril. So we pressed on, and they killed her. Jerry argued against it, begged for more time to come up with a rescue plan, but there wasn’t any time.

“I was there with him when we found the body. After the battle was won. They’d taken their time with her, the bastards. We executed all the leaders, of course; but it didn’t bring Julianne back to life. Or undo one small part of what they’d done to her. Jerusalem Stark cursed us all and walked out. From that day on, he was our most relentless enemy, and all our previous enemies his friends. And as if that wasn’t enough, he made a deal with ... forces best not named out loud. They brought Julianne back from the dead, as a ghost. Now Jerry carries her preserved heart in a silver cage on his belt, to hold her to him.

“He still believes that if he can only find powerful enough allies, someone will bring her all the way back to life. The fool. If it was at all possible, we would have done it. We all loved Julianne. She brought such light and warmth into this sometimes dry and dusty place.”

“Are there any female knights?” I asked.

“No. Tradition, you see. It shapes so much of who and what we are. The order does change, but only slowly. We are still mostly a religious order ... but it wouldn’t surprise me to see the first female knights ordained in my lifetime. We’re not celibate; but it is always understood that our lives and our loyalties belong to the order, first and foremost. ‘I could not love thee, dear, half so much, Loved I not honour more ...’ Most of us have wives and children. We keep them here in the castle with us, where they’re safe.”

“So what do the women here do?” I said. “Act as servants?”

“No,” Sir Gareth said patiently. “The castle may be medieval, but we’re not. Castle Inconnu is full of airy spirits that do all the necessary things. The knights fight; our women provide all the necessary backup work. Doctors, librarians, teachers, historians, armourers ... We couldn’t do what we do without them. Julianne was our spiritual councillor. Our priest confessor in all but name. That’s why she was with us on that fateful battle-field so far from home. We would have saved her if we could. There wasn’t enough time. I would have died for her; but we couldn’t let so many innocents die for her. And she wouldn’t have wanted that anyway.”

“How could you know what she would have wanted?” said a harsh new voice. “You never really knew her. You never loved her.”

We both looked round sharply. Somehow, our steps had brought us round in a circle, and we were back at the beginning of the portrait gallery. And one portrait had come alive on the wall; the calm and peaceful head-and-shoulders pose replaced by a living image. I didn’t need to be told who it was. I never saw a more bitter and haunted face in my life. Jerusalem Stark glared out of his portrait at us, his eyes dark and unblinking, his lips pulled back in a grimace that was as much a snarl as a smile. He had the look of a man who would go anywhere, do anything, for the cause that drove him on. And would never, ever, let him rest. A very dangerous man.

“Hello, Jerry,” Sir Gareth said calmly. “It’s been a while since you last spoke to any of us.”

“As a London Knight, I was granted many privileges,” said Stark, still smiling his unnerving smile. “And they cannot be taken back. I will always have access to Castle Inconnu. You can’t keep me out. You can’t keep the truth out.”

“What truth would that be, Jerry?” Sir Gareth said politely. “That you betrayed the cause you swore your life to? Your life and your sacred honour? That you have betrayed good men and true to the monsters you have taken as allies, men who once fought at your side and trusted you with their lives? That you have betrayed the memory of your wife, who would never have wanted to be saved at such a terrible cost?”

“You could have found a way to save her if you’d wanted!” Stark’s glare was unwavering, his voice unforgiving. “We had time. There were options. But the Grand Master wouldn’t listen. All he cared about was victory, whatever the cost. He sacrificed my love for his triumph. Because that’s the knightly way. The truth is, Gar, you serve an inhuman cause, in inhuman ways. You’ve become the very thing you used to fight.”

“You know that isn’t true, Jerry.” Sir Gareth’s voice remained calm, in contrast to the dark passion in Stark’s every word. “Come back to us. It’s not too late. Come home. We can help you find your way again.”

“I have my way. You forced it on me when you let my wife die; and I have embraced it.”

“We were friends once, Jerry. It wasn’t that long ago. Please. I don’t want to have to kill you.”

“You see? In one breath you call me friend, and in the other you threaten to kill me. See what the order has done to you, Gar.”

“ ‘I could not love thee, dear, half so much ...’”

“Shut up! I don’t have to listen to that any more! They’re just words. I only wanted one thing in my life, only cared for one thing, and you let them take her from me. I will have my revenge, Gareth. I know you have Excalibur.”

Sir Gareth carefully didn’t look at me. “How do you know that, Jerry? Which of your new friends told you that?”

Stark sneered at him. “I have new allies. Very old and very powerful allies. They want you all dead nearly as much as I do.” He turned his cold gaze abruptly to me. “I know you, John Taylor. Get out of here while you still can. Forget whatever you were promised; you can’t trust anything they tell you. They’ll lie, cheat, and betray, in the name of their precious cause. Don’t be fooled by their fine words; they’ve forgotten what it is to be human.”

“I always said you were the most dangerous of our enemies, Jerry,” said Sir Gareth. “Because you think you’re the good guy.”

“I am the good guy.” The image in the portrait suddenly changed, the view pulling back sharply to show Jerusalem Stark in full figure, clad in the same gleaming steel armour as Sir Gareth. And standing beside him was the pale and shimmering image of his dead wife, Julianne. She wasn’t much of a ghost; just a semi-transparent shape in a long white dress who wasn’t always there. She faded in and out, her details vague and uncertain, her face a blur. Sir Gareth made a low noise of distress.