I stood, waiting for the sergeant to announce us. I had seen this ceremony done a dozen or more times over the years as new men came to fight with Arthur. I looked into the chamber through the limited vision of my helmet and smiled because it hadn’t changed in all the months I’d been denied entrance. Unlike many of the other rooms inside the keep, this room glowed with light. Arthur, wanting to stamp his reign firmly on the Court, changed its interior almost as soon as he ascended the throne. Vast columns ran through the long room, forming great fan vaulting over our heads. In the centre of each fan sat a stone boss, representing each of the knight’s and their coat of arms. I wondered briefly if mine were still close to Arthur’s, then decided I didn’t want to know. To see it defaced or gone or worse, replaced, would hurt too much. The floor remained clear of rugs and rushes, polished granite reflected more light from the huge arched windows Arthur punched through to the outside.
