Five Times Uther Disappointed Arthur…And One Time He Didn't

Age 6

It had been raining for days, and a very bored Arthur had decided to roam the castle for lack of anything better to do. He had come across a serving boy, Jem, of about the same size. After making sure nobody else was around, they got to talking, and then playing. It turned out that Jem himself wasn't actually a servant; his father worked in the castle on the cleaning staff, and Jem had no mother. Both boys had recently turned six. There was plenty on which to base a friendship.

Jem showed Arthur some of the back corridors in the castle, those used only by servants. Except when Arthur was occupied with his lessons, they spent two days racing each other up and down stairs and playing hide-and-seek. When the rain finally stopped, Arthur took Jem outside and showed him how to use the new wooden sword that he'd gotten as a birthday gift. Jem taught Arthur how to climb trees in the apple orchard. Arthur began to teach Jem how to read.

It couldn't last, of course. Servants were quietly gossiping about how sweet the boys were together. Most of the knights studiously ignored the pair whenever they saw them in each other's company. But sooner or later, word got back to King Uther that his son was spending an improper amount of time with a servant boy. Unsurprisingly, Uther decided to put an immediate stop to such unseemly behavior.

Arthur stood in front of his father and listened to all the reasons he could no longer play with Jem. He was a servant. Well, even if Jem had no actual job, princes could not associate with children of a lower station. No, Jem was not Arthur's friend, he probably only liked Arthur because of his title. And finally, in exasperation, because Uther forbid it. End of discussion!

Arthur ran back to his room in tears. He didn't care what his father said, Jem was his real friend, and he was going to play with him anyway. They'd just have to be careful, that's all, and not get caught. After he calmed down, Arthur went looking for his friend in the tiny room Jem and his father shared.

Sure enough, Jem was there, but the other boy wouldn't even look at him. It took Arthur commanding, as Prince, that Jem speak to him to get a hurried explanation. "The king told my father if we're ever caught together again, he will have to leave Camelot," Jem whispered, staring at the floor to hide the wetness in his eyes. "My father needs this job. I'm sorry, Arthur, but I can't be your friend anymore." As hurt and angry as Arthur was, he understood. He didn't try to approach Jem again.

Over the next few weeks, Arthur passed Jem in the corridors occasionally. Both boys made an effort to look the other way. But sometimes, after they had passed each other, Arthur would turn and look at Jem longingly, wishing for his friend back. One day, he noticed Jem helping his father with his work, and it warmed Arthur to know that now both were employed. That should make things easier for them. He stood behind a pillar for a while, listening to their father-and-son banter, and watching as the two of them carefully washed and dried and shined the multi-colored windows until they glistened. After a while, he turned away, a wistful smile on his face, only to find himself standing before a stern-faced Uther. Arthur swallowed, looked away guiltily, and walked in the other direction.

The next morning, Jem and his father were gone.

Age 12

Arthur and his friends were standing near the water pump, watching for girls. They did this a lot, mostly because Harold and Richard liked it. Arthur thought it was stupid. He thought Owen might think that, too, but Owen did everything Harold and Richard did – and so did Arthur. Harold was fourteen, and he said he knew all about girls. He especially liked to look for girls with large chests. He and Richard would point them out to each other and whisper things that Arthur really didn't care about. Girls – yuck!

These four boys were sort of friends by default. They trained together every day, taking weapons lessons from Sir Kay. They weren't ready to train with the knights yet, so their (noble) families paid for their sons to have lessons until they were ready. They spent hours training together, so it was natural that they would spend other time together, too.

"Hey, Arthur," said Richard, "why did Sir Kay want you to stay late today?"

Arthur flushed with pride. "He said I've been doing really well, and he thinks I'm ready to start working with the knights an hour or two a week."

The other boys looked at each other. "I'll bet if my daddy was king," said Harold, "I'd get to work with the knights, too."

Arthur frowned. "It's not because of who I am," he protested. "I've been working hard on my training."

"Maybe," said Richard, "but it's not as if you have to. You're the king's son. You want to train with the knights, you get to train with the knights. Oooh, look at her!" he exclaimed, pointing to a very large-chested young woman headed for the pump. "You think she'll bend over?" He watched her intently, hoping for a better show.

Arthur was indignant. He knew he had earned the right to train with the knights, no matter what his friends said. Arthur always worked very hard on his weapons training, while the other three often just went through the motions. But they were back to talking about girls again, so Arthur sat there with nothing to say.

"Let's do something else," Arthur said after a while.

"What for, this is great!" replied Harold, motioning to an ample woman leaning over as she pumped water into her bucket, giving the boys an unexpected view.

"Well, I'm bored," said Arthur. "Owen, don't you want to do something else?" Owen looked at the other boys for a moment, and then nodded.

"Fine," huffed Harold. "I suppose if I lived in the castle and could have any girl I wanted, I would be bored here, too."

"Yeah," chimed in Richard. "With all those serving girls walking by all the time, I bet you get to see a lot of 'girls'" He motioned with his hands to indicate breasts. "You know, Arthur, just because you're a prince, and can have anything you want, doesn't mean you should always spoil our fun."

"It's not like that!" Arthur exclaimed, ready to tell Richard exactly how wrong he was in so many ways. But Harold cut him off.

"Okay, okay, we'll do something else. Let's go down to the market stalls. There's always something to do down there."

The group started walking toward the market. At a fruit stall, they each managed to sneak a hand out and swipe something. They ran a short distance and ate their prizes, and Harold suddenly announced that he knew what they should do next.

"It's brilliant!" he said. "We'll grab some broomsticks, see, and start sparring near the fruit stall. But sometimes we'll miss a block or parry or something, and a stick will smash into the fruit. It will look like we're sparring, a little badly maybe, but we'll really be smashing the fruit all over the place. It'll be great!"

Arthur looked at Harold in shock. "You can't do that," he exclaimed. "Selling that fruit is how they make their living."

"They're farmers, Arthur," said Richard derisively. "They'll pick more for tomorrow." He obviously had no problem with the idea.

Arthur looked at Owen, who looked at the other two boys and then shrugged. "It sounds like fun to me," he said.

"Well I won't do it," Arthur declared. "It's wrong. And you shouldn't do it either."

"What is the matter with you, Arthur?" demanded Harold. "You're the one who wanted to do something fun. You didn't want to look at girls with us. Now you don't want to do this. Maybe you don't want to be friends with us at all anymore, is that it? Now that you've got your daddy's knights to hang out with, we're not good enough for you anymore?"

Arthur was stung. He did want to be friends. "It's not like that," he mumbled.

"Good," said Harold with satisfaction. Richard went to a nearby stall and grabbed four brooms, tossing the owner a few coins when she protested. He handed them out, and Arthur watched the other boys remove the sticks from the brush. He just stood there, holding his broom. He couldn't do this.

"Well?" asked Richard, looking at Arthur's still intact broom.

"I won't do it," Arthur said quietly. "I'm still your friend. But I can't do this."

The other boys angrily turned their backs on Arthur, and soon were making a show of sparring, two against one, near the fruit stall. Soon a stick made contact with the fruit, followed quickly by another. Arthur could hear the outraged yelling of the fruit seller and the laughter of his friends, and he could no longer keep still. He had to stop them. He pulled the stick from his broom and rushed into the fray, trying to block any stick that was aimed at the fruit display. Richard, Harold, and Owen responded by dropping the sparring act altogether. They just aimed at the fruit, and bits were flying in all directions. Arthur was defending against three opponents, and he wasn't able to block them all. By now, most of the fruit was unrecognizable, just trays of battered pulp.

Suddenly Arthur felt strong hands gripping his arms and pulling him back, and he saw some of the King's Guards handling his friends the same way. The broomstick was yanked from his grasp, and Arthur was pulled into a line with the other boys. As the guards marched the four of them towards the castle, Arthur realized that he was actually under arrest.

A short while later, Arthur and his friends were led into the Throne Room and made to stand in front of the king. Arthur could hardly look at his father. He knew he looked a mess – they all did, covered with splattered bits of fruit pulp. Arthur had never been brought before his father this way, and he was trying very hard not to show how scared he was.

The fruit seller was there, and described the staged sparring and subsequent attacking of his stall. One of the guards explained what he saw when he and the other guards stopped the boys and arrested them. Arthur dared a glance at his father's face, but it looked so angry, he dropped his gaze immediately. The guard finished talking, and there was a long silence.

King Uther glared at the four miscreants before him. "I cannot believe," he said slowly, "that you four would do such a despicable thing. You attacked this man's livelihood. There is no excuse for this kind of behavior from anyone, but from you! You, sons of the most noble families in Camelot, that you would do such a base thing is incomprehensible."

He turned to the fruit seller. "Do you know how much income you lost today because of this incident?"

"Not yet, Sire," he answered.

"I will send one of my knights back to your stall with you to get a fair accounting. These boys' families will reimburse you double your losses."

The fruit seller bowed. "Thank you, Your Majesty," he said with relief.

"As for you," King Uther said, turning his full attention to the boys standing in front of him, "I believe some time in the dungeons will do you some good."

"Sire, may I speak?" asked Arthur. He needed to set the record straight about this, right now!

Uther's eyes met those of his son, and Arthur could see nothing but coldness and anger in them. It was a frightening sight. After a beat, Uther slowly nodded.

"I wasn't doing what they were doing, Sire. I was trying to stop them." Arthur spoke quickly, but clearly. "I told them not to do it in the first place, and I didn't go with them. But when they started smashing the fruit, I had to help, so I went over and tried to block as many blows as I could, to keep them away. I was trying to stop it."

Uther turned to the fruit seller. "Is that what you saw?" he asked.

The fruit seller shook his head. "I just saw boys and sticks, Your Majesty. I don't know if what he says is true or not."

Uther looked at the guard, who said, "Four boys, four sticks."

The king turned to the other boys. "Is Arthur telling the truth? Was he trying to stop you?"

Owen and Richard looked at Harold. Harold looked at Arthur for a moment, and then back at the king. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty, but that's not what happened. The whole thing was Arthur's idea in the first place." Owen and Richard nodded.

Arthur couldn't believe what he'd just heard. "Liar!" he shouted, and launched himself at Harold, fists ready, but he was quickly restrained. "Liar, you're all liars," he kept shouting, trying to free himself. It took two guards to hold him.

"That's enough!" shouted Uther. Arthur stopped shouting and struggling; he knew that tone of voice. "Take these boys to the dungeons and put them in separate cells. They are not to communicate with each other."

As the guards started leading them out, Arthur had to try again. "Father, please listen," he called. "I was telling the truth! I've never lied to you! Please, Father, I was only trying to stop them." He stopped shouting only when he was sure his father could no longer hear him. Then he gave up and let himself be led to the dungeons and locked in a cell.

It was damp and cold. The only blanket in the cell was disgustingly dirty. Arthur was sure he heard rats. That's when he realized his clothes were covered with bits of food. He wrapped himself in the blanket, filthy or not, hoping that covering up the fruit stains would keep the rats away.

Why had Harold lied? They were friends, weren't they? A friend would have told the truth, backed him up. But Harold had lied, and Richard and Owen had agreed with him. Arthur finally realized that these boys were not his friends. Arthur didn't like the way they treated him, and he didn't feel comfortable with them the way friends should. Maybe having no friends was better than these three. He would be lonely, but he could be true to himself. This decision made, he leaned back against the wall and tried to sleep.

The next morning, Arthur heard his former friends being released to their parents. He was informed that he would be remaining in the cell for three more days as punishment for lying to his king.

Age 4

Arthur was excited as he drew his picture. He had finally gotten an idea that would make his father happy. It was hard to make his father happy, since he was a king, and kings had so many things to worry about. But Arthur knew his surprise would do it. He grinned as he imagined the smile on his father's face. Maybe he would even get a pat on the head, or if he was very lucky, a hug.

Arthur had gotten his big idea earlier in the day when he was talking to his nurse, Jane. He thought he was really too old for a nurse, but she took good care of him, and he liked her. He had discovered that Jane had a daughter just a little older than he was, named Betsy. And Betsy had a father, too. She had both a mother and a father. Arthur had asked Jane why he didn't have a mother and father both. She had looked very uncomfortable, but had gently told Arthur that his mother had died when he was just a baby.

"What do you mean?" asked Arthur.

Jane sighed. "Your mother got very sick and died, Arthur. She went away and couldn't come back. It made everyone very sad, especially the king. He won't let anyone talk about her."

Arthur thought about this for a few minutes. "Before my mother died, was Father happy?" he asked.

"Oh, yes," answered Jane. "Very, very happy. But Arthur, we really aren't allowed to talk about this. You wouldn't want me to get into trouble, would you?"

Arthur's eyes were round as saucers as he shook his head. "I promise I won't tell," he declared. Then he gave Jane a big hug and whispered in her ear, "It's a secret."

Arthur finished his drawing and trotted off to find his father. The king was easy to find, sitting on his throne talking to some of his advisors. Arthur recognized Gaius and Geoffrey, but didn't remember anybody else's name. Uther looked up as little Arthur ran forward, waving his drawing in the air. Arthur stopped before the throne and waited for his father to speak to him, as he had been taught, but it was so hard to wait that Arthur was practically bouncing with excitement.

Uther gave an indulgent smile. "You wanted to see me, Arthur," he asked, idly wondering who was supposed to be looking after his son right now and why he was alone.

"Yes, Father," piped up Arthur happily. "I made you a picture as a surprise!" He handed it to his father and eagerly waited for his reaction.

Uther looked at the drawing of two smiling figures with rounded tummies, stick arms and legs, smiling faces, and crowns on their heads. "Is this a picture of you and me, Arthur?" he asked.

Arthur was surprised that his father didn't recognize her. "No," he answered. "It's you and my mother, before I was born. See? You're both happy! I thought if you had a picture of my mother to look at you could be happy again…" Arthur trailed off. His father didn't look happy, not at all. He looked angry. "Don't you like it?" Arthur asked timidly, suddenly feeling a little scared.

The throne room was deathly silent. Uther stared at his son. In a quiet voice that was somehow terrifying, he asked, "Arthur, who has been speaking to you about your mother?"

"N-n-nobody," Arthur lied. He swallowed. He'd promised Jane not to get her in trouble.

"Then why did you draw this picture?" Uther held up the drawing and stabbed his finger at the offending figure of his deceased wife.

Arthur felt tears rolling down his cheeks. What had gone wrong? "I thought you would like it. I wanted you to have a queen and me to have a mother. I thought you'd be happy. I thought…I thought…" Arthur couldn't talk anymore, he was crying too hard.

Gaius appeared from somewhere, knelt down, and put an arm around the boy's shoulders. "With your permission, Your Majesty," he said, and took the sobbing prince from the throne room. As they left, Arthur heard his father say ominously, "If I ever find out who has been speaking to Arthur about his mother, I will have his head," which only made Arthur cry harder.

Gaius took Arthur back to his chambers, where he found Jane and told her what had happened. Her white face confirmed his suspicions, but he let it go. Together they calmed Arthur down and got him tucked into bed for a nap. Jane sat with him and stroked his hair until he fell asleep. Arthur and Jane never spoke of his mother again.

The next morning, Arthur discovered the last remnants of his drawing in the ashes of the throne room fireplace.