“Do you know where she is?” Arthur asked, breathless. “Take me to her at once . . . I’ll pay you any price . . .”
The Green Knight seemed bemused. “Most kings would be suspicious of a green stranger. Especially the Lion of Camelot, whose kingdom is founded upon his victory over a Snake. But instead, the mighty Arthur asks me for help, convinced I’m a friend.” He peered harder at the king. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
“Quite sure I’d remember a green hulk of a man,” said Arthur swiftly. “If you are indeed man and not monster.”
“More man than most kings, I’d say,” the knight replied, his stare unwavering. “As to your question, let’s say I could find your wife. How would that change anything? Would that make her love you? Would that make her come running back to your side?”
Arthur didn’t know what to make of this.
“Poor Lion. It won’t be long before you call me a Snake,” the Green Knight spoke. “But just remember: the real Snake was in your bed.”
The king’s eyes flickered. “Why have you come here, then?”
“To gain your permission,” the Green Knight replied.
“My permission for what?”
“To kill Merlin,” said the knight.
The answer was so unexpected that Agatha let out a shocked laugh—a laugh that the king himself echoed, rocking forward on his throne.
Then he saw the knight was serious.
“May I ask why?” said the king.
“May I ask why you couldn’t keep your wife?” said the knight.
Arthur’s mood darkened. “You have three seconds to be out of my sight.”
“No, that’s not how this goes,” the Green Knight said. “If I leave now, I will punish your realms and inflict terror like you have never known until you beg me back, seeking a deal. The same deal I will offer you today. If you wish to spare your people, I suggest you take it.”
Arthur looked startled that this creature was now issuing him orders.
“The terms are simple,” said the Green Knight. “You may strike me a single blow with your sword. Right here. Right now. And in exchange, I will return tomorrow and give the same blow to Merlin.”
“If I give you a blow, you won’t be returning anywhere tomorrow,” Arthur spat, launching to his feet.
“A true king would do more than boast,” the Green Knight taunted.
“You want a blow, do you?” Arthur sneered, drawing Excalibur. “As you wish.” From the throne’s platform, he pointed the sword down at the knight. “You are lucky there are steps between us. I am offering you mercy, insolent cur. I suggest you take it.”
“I see,” the knight spoke. “You don’t think my terms are real. So lost in arrogance you ignore the threat in front of you. So insulated from your people you’d let a Snake run free, because you’re too cowardly to strike the blow. Actions have consequences, Your Highness. Non-action has consequences as well.”
Agatha could see Tedros from the corner of her eye, his cheeks red, his jaw clenched. This was the same charge people leveled at him. The same trap that gave rise to the new Snake that imperiled him now.
“I’m giving you the right to strike me,” the knight reminded. “It is also your right to turn a blind eye, of course. To let me leave and wreak havoc in your name. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. Just as I’m sure your wife warned she didn’t love you and you turned a blind eye to that too.”
Arthur lowered his sword. Blood flushed his face. He steamed hot through his nostrils. “You know nothing of my wife.”
“I know more than you do, it seems,” said the knight. “You’re the one who still thinks you can get her back.”
Agatha could see the king racked with tension, fighting to resist the bait.
“Get out,” Arthur seethed. “Get out now.”
“Pity your young wart of a son,” said the knight.
“Don’t talk about my son—” Arthur lashed.
“Mother gone. Father weak . . .” the Green Knight jabbed. “Brother hidden away.”
The king went dead cold.
So did Tedros next to Agatha.
“What did you say?” his father breathed.
The knight grinned back. “Long live the true heir. Long live the king.”
“You snake,” Arthur hissed, already moving. “You LIAR!” He slashed down the stairs, robes aflight, like a murderous angel, his sword sweeping up over his head. With a primal roar, he swung it through the shadows, catching a last glint of sun—
It cut clean through the Green Knight’s neck.
Agatha and Tedros froze, watching the green head roll across the carpet, waiting for the slain knight’s body to fall . . .
But then something strange happened.
Something that made Arthur drop his blade in shock.
The knight’s body didn’t fall.
Instead, it ambled a few steps backwards, picked up the severed head, and tucked it under his arm.
“Same time tomorrow,” the knight’s head spoke. “Bring Merlin.”
Then he strolled out of the throne room, head in hand, leaving Arthur stunned and alone.
The scene faded to darkness.
Slowly Agatha looked at Tedros, who was staring into the void, rock still.
“His head,” she croaked. “How do you live with no head?”
But her prince had something else on his mind. “Doesn’t make sense,” he said, shaken. “Dad gave me the ring because I’m the heir.” Tedros turned to Agatha. “So why did the Green Knight imply that I’m not?”
“The knight lied,” Agatha argued. “You heard your dad—”
But Professor Sader’s voice had returned, a new panorama filling in.
“Needless to say, the king had no intention of delivering his wizard to the knight and blocked the entrance to his castle with a thousand guards. Yet, to the Green Knight, he and the king had made a deal. The king had taken his cut; now it was the knight’s turn to strike Merlin. And as long as Arthur refused to honor these terms, then his people would pay the price.”
Around Tedros and Agatha spawned a montage of destruction: the Green Knight, head restored, setting fire to castles and carriages; slashing through armies with his axe; launching avalanches to crush villages; terrorizing the streets of kingdoms, Good and Evil. Every arrow that pierced his green chest, every sword that drew blood, he easily swatted away, his skin healing instantly, his force invincible. Mobs gathered in Camelot’s square and at the castle gates, jeering the blockade of guards, shouting slurs at Arthur, demanding the king come out and kill this green monster.
Instantly Agatha was reminded of Japeth and his brother, slithering into the Woods and terrorizing the people to turn them against Tedros. They had succeeded just as the Green Knight had.
“Past is Present and Present is Past,” the Snake’s brother once said. “The story goes round and round again.”
Coincidence? Agatha wondered. Or did Rhian and Japeth have ties to the Green Knight? Ties that made this first test as significant to Japeth as it was to Tedros? Was the Green Knight the key to solving who Rhian and Japeth really were?