Page 97 of Gwen and Art Are Not in Love

This is anousting? You’ve signed me up to acoup?’

‘If everybody cooperates,’ his father said, wringing his hands as he spoke, ‘it will be a – a relatively peaceful transfer of power.’

‘Right, because that’sdefinitelygoing to happen,’ said Arthur. His mind was racing; was the king still alive? WasGwen?Gabriel?The further they got from the tournament, walking through the eerily deserted campgrounds, the less he could guess at what was happening behind them. ‘Do you know how embarrassing it is to stage a failed coup? You have to go all-out, and then, when you lose, everybody knows you completely and utterly shat the bed.’

‘Shutup,’his father shouted, and Arthur flinched away from him, unable to go particularly far. ‘You’re in this now whether you like it or not, Arthur. The king should be dead by now.’Dead?Arthur’s supposedly healed ribs ached. ‘We are to rally the second wave and lead them in to claim the castle. Do as I say – and as Lord Willard commands – and you shall be rewarded. There might even be a place for you on the king’s council one day, if you play your cards right. If only you had listened to me before, instead of throwing yet another tantrum – I thought I had sent you a very clear message about wherethatpath would lead, although I admit, things may have got … out of hand …’

Arthur attempted to parse this. Somebodyhadrecently told him they had a message for him, and as he tried to recall who, he felt phantom pain rack his body again – because, he realised, the next moment he’d been lying on the ground as they kicked his ribs until they cracked.

Arthur’s mouth fell open. ‘Jesus Christ – that wasyou? Next time you ask somebody to deliver me a message, you might want to tell them I’m supposed to bealive to hear it. You – you utterbastard, youprick—’

‘It was never supposed to go that far,’ his father snapped, as if Arthur were overreacting. He rather thought he wasunder-reacting. ‘You needed a reminder of where yourloyalties should lie, and you had made it obvious you wouldn’t listen to reason. I regret that they were so … enthusiastic, but the point still stands—’

‘I’m going to kill you,’ Arthur spat at him, straining uselessly against his captors. ‘Although, hey, maybe I won’t have to! Do you really think that if you win today, the people of England aren’t going to mind that you’ve baselessly attacked the capital and bumped off their king?’

‘Baselessly?’ Lord Delacey said, with a humourless chuckle. ‘Arthur, you’ve always been an idiot about these things. Willard hasn’t been laying low; he’s been layinggroundwork. His claim to the throne has always been as good as the king’s, and he’s been slowly gathering support back to him all these years.’

‘All those uprisings? In the north?’ Arthur said, stumbling again and finding himself yanked up by the scruff of his neck.

‘Ha! No. They were nothing. A distraction. Divert the king’s attention and troops northwards, leaving Camelot undefended – that halfwit Stafford nearly lost the last of his hair ensuring that one went off properly.’

‘Lord Stafford?’ Arthur said, trying to recall the last time he’d seen him – their conversation in the Great Hall, Arthur drunk and melancholy and telling him…

‘Yes,’ Lord Delacey said with grim satisfaction as they neared the treeline. ‘Yes, you accidentally proved yourself more useful than you’ve ever managed to do on purpose. I did have to embellish a little, so the truth of your reluctance to be in any way useful to the rebellion didn’t shame me. It certainly helped things along with certain factions to hearthat the prince plans to abandon Camelot, run away to the seaside and take all the crown’s gold with him to waste onbooks…’

‘That’s not what he – God, you miserable tosser, you—’

‘Be quiet, Arthur, you’re wasting your breath. Now that the king is dead, and his heir is next—’

Arthur inhaled sharply. ‘And what about the princess?’

‘I’m sure yourbetrothedis safe. She has her uses – in fact, I think Willard plans to marry her.’

‘Right,’ Sidney said thickly from behind Arthur. ‘Fuckthis.’ There was a gasp and a crunching sound, as if somebody’s nose had just collided with something very hard; Arthur rather suspected it was Sidney’s forehead. A scuffle followed, during which one of the guards holding Arthur upright abandoned his post to keep Sidney contained; with a sudden fifty per cent increase in freedom, Arthur finally managed to twist around to look back up towards the castle.

There were men in armour running and riding towards them, swords and faces bloodied. Sidney, having put up a good fight, was on the ground again. Seeing no reason why his father might not just order him killed this time, Arthur did the first thing that came into his head, and let his body go completely slack so that the guard only half holding him promptly dropped him. He threw himself on top of Sidney, both of them grunting at the impact.

‘Arthur, will youjust— Well met, my lord!’

Arthur’s face was buried somewhere between Sidney’s shoulder and his ear, but at the sound of approaching hoofs and his father’s simpering reverence, he heaved himself over to look at the new arrivals.

The infamous Lord Willard was sitting astride an enormous grey horse, a dark cape billowing at his shoulders, not a spot of blood or dirt on him; the Knife was with him, absolutely drenched in gore from head to foot. Arthur watched with horror as hundreds more men poured from the copse of trees behind them, armoured and armed and clearly raring for a fight. Lord Delacey had gone to speak to Lord Willard in hushed, self-important tones, leaving his son crumpled on the ground.

‘What the hell are we going to do?’ Arthur said, muffled by Sidney’s chest, feeling hopeless. If the king was really dead – if they’d taken Gabriel and Gwen too – then it was already over.

It was unthinkable.

‘Agnes,’ Sidney moaned. ‘I didn’t even – I never even slept with her, Art. I fell inlovewith her, like a pillock, so now I’m going to die when I haven’t seen so much as a tit since the spring—’

‘Good Lord, Sidney, shutup,’ Arthur grunted, rolling away so that he was looking up at the greying sky, rain falling softly on his face. ‘Shit. This is very, very bad.’

‘Maybe … maybe they’re not dead,’ Sidney said. ‘They’re not stupid. And this lot have come fleeing back, so they didn’t win on the first push. And – and our lothavegot a castle.’

‘They weren’t ready for a battle though,’ Arthur said quietly. ‘They were ready for a party.’

‘Well, that doesn’t necessarily mean—’

‘Arthur,’ Lord Delacey said sharply, nudging Arthur’s face with the toe of his boot. ‘Get up. You too, boy.’ He bentdown so that only Arthur and Sidney could hear him, an extremely alarming smile fixed on his face as he hissed, ‘Get on a horse, and don’t make a fool of yourself.’He straightened up again. ‘The king still lives, but no matter.’