THE SHIELD OF LOCKSLEY

Chapter 18...A Lady in Search of a Hero -- a THROWBACK THURSDAY entry

It’s THROWBACK THURSDAY, and I’ve decided for that, I’m going to put up pieces of my Paywalled chapters. It’s a small group here behind the paywall, and it might be a good idea to let some of you look behind the curtain. Now, in case you don’t know, the language gets a little “rough” at times because, well, that’s how guys sometimes talk.

Of course, the whole idea of putting it up is to try and convince some of you to come in and read it. Choose one or the other at either $10 for the month, or $30 for the year. It also gives you access to the ARCHIVES, where stories and posts older than two years are squirrelled away.

In this part, Locksley and the group are returning from Castle Camelot, looking forward to a sit down in the Common Room of The Westerly Bay, the inn they are staying at.

* *

The ride through the village back to the Inn had proven just as slow as the ride to the castle had been; the streets were just as crowded as they were on the way in. A blue haze hung over the town from burning braziers and open wood stoves where women stood with huge paddles they used for pulling out loaves of bread, or stuffing in lumps of dough; men turned spits and roasted huge slabs of meat they placed on tables where flies gathered and rats scurried about underneath; beggars stood on side streets with vacuous eyes, waiting for scraps of food to fall on dusty cobblestoned lanes.

Brennis watched the people milling about and pushing their way to the front of lines that stood unmoving. Locksley looked back over his shoulder at the castle where it stood above the village, finally fading from view as the buildings around their small group grew taller, crowded, and more dense. Brennis thought Locksley had the look of a man who couldn’t shake the feeling that something was out of the ordinary.

He feels it too, Brennis thought, the feeling they were being watched weighing on him. He looked back over his left shoulder, but there was nothing to see.

“Why do you keep looking behind you?” Brennis asked at last, now looking back over his right shoulder in case there was someone there..

“I canna shake the ill-feelin’ of it,” Locksley admitted. “T’was that I saw there a comely face, or so methought, ridin’ in amongst the crowded swarm,” Locksley said again, only with a smile, looking over his shoulder once more.

“Is it your new love, then?” Brennis asked him with a grin. “Is it the Lady Gwenellyn?” he said, and turning to his left, felt his heart race as he saw the comely face of a girl as well. He smiled and nodded at her, and she smiled briefly, before trying to hide herself from him.

“Aw, she’s a saucy minx, that one,” Brennis said, looking at Locksley riding beside him. “What do you say to that ? Did you see her? You must have, for all the times you spent looking back at her.”

“I’ve nay need for that now, mind ye,” Locksley said.

“For what? Cunny?” Brennis laughed. “Is that what you’re saying? You’ve no time for cunny? Because I refuse to believe that about you — you or any man. Even if you turn to me and say you’ve given your fucking heart away. Don’t tell me that, not when we’re here, at Camelot, where every woman I meet on the street is all but wanting to grab me by the dick, just because I’m your Squire.”

“Methought ye said ye’ve nay desire for whoorin’?” Locksley laughed, stretching the word out and making it sound comical. “Ye said ye’d seen it all yer life, an’ ye willna give, nor take coin, on account o’ any woman.”

“Did I say all of that?” Brennis asked with a laugh. “That sounds like quite the mouthful…or is that just your damned Druidic accent?” Brennis grinned.

“I’d like me some fine Dru’dic shine ‘bout now — to give t’ my Lady Gwenellyn,” Locksley said, and Brennis laughed at him. Locksley turned in surprise. “An’ can a man nay lay his orbs on some sweet lass an’ not lose his ‘eart t’ her all at once, without ever’one about ‘im thinkin’ ‘im lost an’ plighted?”

“Of course he can. I’m not indifferent to your plight, I’ll have you know. But we’re here for the Tournament of Youth. A first time Knight and his low-born Squire. They even have a name for you, I’ll have you know.”

“What d’ ye mean, a name fer me? I well have a name.”

“Yes, you did, you mean,” Brennis laughed again.

“Wherefore say ye that? What’s ‘appened t’ me name since e’er I left home?”

“I’m afraid word of our encounter with the Queen has spread far and wide, as people now refer to you as The Beggar’s Knave.”

“An’ what’s that make yerself?” Locksley asked, looking back over his shoulder. Brennis turned at the same time, and noticed the woman was now riding with an older woman, as well as what appeared to be a refined gentleman. He thought that calling the man a gentleman might be something of an exaggeration, though. Still, the three of them seemed a strange combination.

Grummer pulled rein up as they entered the yard of The Westerly Bay. Bedivere smiled and together the two old Knights jumped from their saddles, making their way to the large door. There was a bravado about them that was echoed with cheers as soon as Bedivere pulled the doors open, pausing to wait on Grummer.

“Are ye nay steppin’ in?” Grummer asked, looking up at Locksley and giving the horses’ reins to Brennis. Bedivere made a sweeping motion with his hand, grinning, before stepping in through the door. Locksley was only too happy to follow, and leaped down from the saddle.

“What about Eddy?” Brennis said, taking the reins and looking at Grummer.

“Aye? An’ what of ‘im?” Grummer asked, pausing to look at the young Squire.

“Why can’t he take the horses and stable them? Why do I always have to do it?”

“Givin’ that he’s ‘ere in Camelot t’ be Knighted, an’ yer but two weeks outta the flop houses of The Red Lion,” Locksley said, handing him the reins. He reached up and took Edensen’s reins at the same time, waiting for the Squire to climb down. “Ye may well as bring Eddy’s ’orse in for ’im, as ‘e’s got Chapel t’night.”

“Chapel?” Brennis asked.

“Ye need t’ bend the knee t’ the White Christ, an’ kiss his Cross if ye wanna be a Table Knight,” Grummer said, opening the door.

“You did that?” Brennis asked Locksley, an obvious sceptic.

“Nay.,” Locksley laughed. “I but saved a king an’ was made Knight of the Field fer me efforts, ye dinna can remember that? I din’t have t’ swear to nay man’s god, let alone the White Christ.”

“And that, my good Knight, is the reason women swoon at the sight of us—” Brennis pointed out as he climbed out of the saddle.

“Us?” Locksley said with a laugh, looking up at the lad.

“A Knight and his Squire are a tandem match —”

“One would think ‘e’s been jawin’ on it wit’ Sir Grummer, then?” Locksley laughed, looking at Edensen standing beside him.”Is that it?” he asked, looking up at Brennis again.

“I’ve not said any word to him,” Edensen smiled.

“Why would you think that?” Brennis asked. “No; I was thinking of something else entirely different.”

“Aye, I’ll bet ye were,” Locksley laughed, reaching for his crotch in a lewd gesture.

“I was thinking,” Brennis said, raising his voice, “that if you should somehow — miraculously is the word that comes to mind — but somehow, win this tournament, what will we do with that Garter of Pearls?” he laughed. “It’s a nice question to have to ask yourself, doan you think?” he added, climbing down from his horse and walking the horses around the back, to the stable.

The stable and surrounding yard were a secluded area that was sanctioned off from the rest of the town — complete with trees and greenery, a vegetable garden, ducks and chickens, a pen for livestock with goats, a dairy cow, and sow — even as the sun came into the courtyard at a distinct slant, casting giant shadows and reflecting off large puddles in the yard. The main building of the inn was three stories of sturdy timbers, with long tendrils of bright green ivy working their way up the side of the manse, choking the balcony and reaching ever upwards. The bottom half of the structure was being filled in with clay and painted white by three workmen.

There were eight stalls for the horses, a Blacksmith’s shop, an area off to the left for hay and feed, and a Farrier’s shop off to the right, for tack and repairs. The Blacksmith’s shop was a hive of activity. There were grooms and horses lined up and waiting for the Farrier who was shaving the horses’ hooves and deftly hammering horseshoes into place. The Blacksmith’s hammer was ringing out a steady, deafening tattoo, the flames of his fire stoked by his son, a boy of eight, who stood mesmerized in front of the dancing flames. An elm tree grew in the farthest corner of the yard, close to the wall and a well, where long swales of water snaked out across the yard, feeding the giant puddles. There was a water trough and a fountain in the centre of the complex.

“Breunor!”

He heard a voice and turned, but there was no one there.

It happened again; again he turned.

The Woman in White was standing under the shadow of the elm tree. Even from a distance, Brennis could see that she was wet. There was a circlet of water dripping around her, falling from the hem of a dress that seemed to grow longer as the water cascaded down her slender form.

“Good tidings, Breunor,” she said with a slight nod of her head as he approached.

“You! I know— You were in Sir Lamorak’s tent the day we came upon him, and at Tarquin’s Keep,” he added.

“So it seems,” she smiled.

“What are you doing here, then?” he asked, leading her to the far side of the tree where they could stand hidden from the sight of prying eyes.

“There are things that you need to know, and I’m here to help show you the way.”

“Help show me the way? To what? Wait. What things I need to know?” he asked.

“Your boy looks more like a Huntsman than a Knight of the Realm,” she said, distracted.

“The King has promised his own armourer —”

“Aye. Can you not hear him?” she asked, “hammering out his melodious tune? Pretty, isn’t it?”

“We’re to see the King’s own blacksmith,” Brennis said, looking about.

“Foolish boy,” she smiled. “That’s the ringing echo of the smith you hear at the Inn you reside in. But that’s not what’s needed; at least, not right now,” she said. “Look,” and she pointed to the stable gates where the two women and their male companion were entering the yard. “They are part of the answer you seek.”

“You’ve got the wrong man,” Brennis said, looking at her. “I’m not looking for any answers, and I’m certainly in no position to help anyone even if I was — which I’m not, mind you. I can barely take care of my own charges, let alone that of anyone else.”

“I never said that I expected you to take charge of them,” she smiled.

“Then what are you telling me?”

“That you have to stand beside him,” she said.

“Who? Locksley?”

She nodded.

“Why would you think I wouldn’t? I can’t leave him now — not when he needs me most. He’s about to enter the Tournament of Youth. He can’t enter the Tournament if he doesn’t have a Squire at his side.”

“That woman —”

“Which one?” Brennis asked.

“You know the one I mean. The one you smiled at.”

“And which one would that be?” he asked. “I smiled at a lot of women.”

“You did, but I mean the pretty one that was following you.”

“How do you know about her?”

“She’s the one you have to stop,” she said, ignoring the question.

“Stop? Her? Stop her from what?”

“From being with Lamorak,” she said. “She needs to meet Beaumanis.”

“And who, by all that’s sacred, is Beaumanis?”

“Gareth.The youngest of the Orkneys. He served in the kitchens here last year. Kay called him that. He’s newly returned from home with Gawain.”

“I don’t know if I understand any of this. You’re telling me I have to watch out for Locksley, and then almost in the same breath, you tell me I have to keep a woman — whom I don’t even know, by the way — away from Sir Lamorak — a notorious womanizer as you yourself are intimately aware — and make sure she meets this Beaumanis instead, who just happens to be Gareth, the youngest of the Orkney Knights and a sworn enemy to us all. Have I got it about right?”

Brennis looked at the woman, and then looked around the tree at the girl again. He knew if Lamorak wanted to be with the girl, there was little he could do about it; Lamorak was every woman’s idea of what the perfect Knight should be: tall, handsome, well featured with his grey eyes, and dark hair, even if he was a little old. He was considered one of the three best Knights in the Kingdom, and just as Lancelot and Tristan were both besotted with their Queens, now Lamorak was equally smitten with the Orkney Queen — but that didn’t mean he wasn’t above fucking any other woman who crossed his path, Brennis knew. He’d already shown himself to be unfaithful as far as Brennis could see.

“Lamorak has plans to make his way out to Orkney and be with his newest love, the Queen, as soon as he may —” Brennis started to say.

“Yes. And as certain to be riding with his father part of the way, no doubt?”

“I know nothing of his plans. I’m Sir Locksley’s Squire, and only do his bidding. Do you actually expect me to do something about that?” Brennis asked, taken aback by the statement.

“There’s little you can do. His death has already been ordained, and no man can stop it.”

“And now you’ve lost me,” Brennis said, leaning back against the tree. “Now you tell me he’s riding to his death — or that it’s been ordained and that no one can stop it? Why? And why tell me that she’s somehow tied up in it?” he added, pointing at the woman.

“Every man dies in his own good time,” she said softly. “Lamorak’s no exception to that rule.”

“But why tell me if there’s nothing I can do about it?” he asked again.

“But you can. You can’t change the outcome, but you can change the order of events. The only way you can prevent this is to make certain Locksley does not ride with him when he leaves,” she said.

“And why would he ride with him? I told you, he’s meant to participate in the Tournament of Youth. Perhaps you’ve heard of it? It’s a pretty big affair.”

“The gods have placed things in motion that no man can prevent. But as I said, you can change the order of events, just not the event itself,” she said.

“The event being the death of Lamorak?”

“That’s the part of it,” she said.

“And what does that mean? Part of it? Part of what?”

“As far as anyone knows, the Lady Gwenellyn has promised to be with the King when he leaves. But she’ll be forced to remain behind, unbeknownst to even herself.”

“And what does that have to do with anything?”

“It has everything to do with everything,” she declared. “She cannot be made to ride back with the King, but neither can she remain here.”

“Is this more of your strange magic?” Brennis asked.

“You there! Boy!” a man called out to him. “What are you doing back there?”

Brennis turned to look, and saw the man who’d been riding with the two women crossing the yard at a quick pace. He stomped through the huge puddles, the water splashing up at him as if it was trying to fight off an attacker. Brennis turned to look at the Lady in White, but she was gone. He looked about, thinking she couldn’t have gone far — perhaps around the corner of the building — but all he could see was one of the larger puddles rippling, thinking perhaps the wind had picked up.

He stepped out from around the tree and looked at the man.

“I said what are ye doin’ there?” the man asked again.

“If you must know, I was taking a piss,” Brennis said with his best smile.

“In the presence of women?” the man said, and Brennis wondered if the man was as noticeably shocked as he appeared to be, or if he was just pretending for the sake of the two women. “Are you a vulgarian?”

“A what?”

“A vulgarian,” the man repeated himself. “Why would you choose to relieve yourself there, when you could easily do it elsewhere?”

“Well, you three weren’t there when I started now then, were you?” Brennis smiled.

“You watch how ye speak to me, boy,” the man said. “I’ll have no qualms about it if it comes to laying a beatin’ on ye.”

“Well, you could try, I suppose.”

“Try? By all the true gods, boy!”

“Are you a pagan, then?” Brennis smiled again. “Come to Camelot to sort things out, have you?”

“What of it?” the man asked, shocked by the question.

“Nothing. What do you want?”

“Where did ye learn yer ways of talkin’ to yer betters, boy?”

“Truth be told, I was raised by whores,” Brennis laughed again.

“I’ll not be wastin’ my time talkin’ with the likes of you! It’s obvious ye know nothing of those Knights you came in with.”

“And why would you think that?” Brennis asked. “Did it not occur to you that maybe it’s you who has no right to detract from those same Knights you saw me riding in with?”

“That one in leathers ye were jawing on with? No more than a Huntsman at best, if that even,” he said with a dismissive snort. “No, the other two. They were older. They had the look of Knights about them.”

“That they do!” Brennis said, “because they’re Knights of the Table Round, they are! Great men by reputation, or so I hear. That was Sir Bedivere himself, and Sir Grummer.”

“Am I supposed to know who they are, just by hearing their names? I know nothing of them.”

“What? You don’t know Sir Bedivere? He was the first made Knight of all the King’s Knights. The original Sword of the King, until Sir Lancelot unhorsed him and took that title upon himself.”

“A man can’t be expected to know the name of every Table Knight in the realm, can he?”

“No, but one would expect him to know the name of Sir Bedivere. Made quite the name for himself during the War of the Twelve Kings, from what I’ve heard. I’m too young to remember any of that, but you good sir, you must have taken to the field in the name of the King? How many of the great Knights do you know?” Brennis asked.

“I know of Sir Lancelot, of course; Sir Lamorak; Sir Tristan; Gawain; Ector de Maris; Balin Le Savauge, and his brother Balen.”

“And which of those great Knights is it you seek then?”

“Lancelot, of course,” the man said.

“I doubt Lancelot would come to a place like this,” Brennis said, looking around.

“What is this place?”

“Not the sort of place one should be bringing virtuous women to,” Brennis snorted with laughter. “They might well get put to work here if there’s a large enough crowd inside.”

The man turned around to see the door closing as the two women entered the Inn. He ran across the yard, his large sword slapping against his side even as he tried to hold it in place.

Brennis smiled, taking a last look over his shoulder at the large puddle as he made his way across the yard and through the door.