THE SHIELD OF LOCKSLEY

PART TWO: THE TOURNAMENT OF YOUTH

I’ve decided, just this moment, that I’m going to put this out as a FREE sample.

Now some of you may be wondering why I would do this, and so I’ll tell you. Lately, among some of us here, there’s been a question as to what we should, or shouldn’t, post behind the PAYWALL. In all honesty, I have no intentions of putting this up for FREE. I had the big summer sale at 80% off, and I think maybe six people took me up on it. Dismal, if I do say so myself. It didn’t convince me that I should be putting this story up for all and sundry, as I say here in my story, but exactly the opposite.

Let me explain: I have 32 PAID subscribers. That’s a very small and intimate group of readers. I know a great many of these people personally, and that means a lot to me. When I speak out in these little blurbs like this, I can imagine myself talking to my brother, or to Murray, or Irene — even Lorahley (and Bob!) The fact that nobody took me up on the offer, means little to me, because my numbers are growing. I have, at this moment, 1553 Followers. (That means Subscribers and Followers alike.) I have a total of 641 Subscribers. That’s not a lot, I know, but it is to me. 1553 is probably as many as I went to high school with, so you can see that’s a lot to me. Thing is, on September 1st, I had 1350 Followers.

I’ve picked up 200 Follower/Subscribers in a month! 50 of them, are Subscribers…

So I’m putting this up for FREE, in the hope that some of you that are Subscribed, will up-grade, and some of you that are Following me, will subscribe. It’s $30 (Canadian) for the YEAR. It costs $10 per month, because I want you to know that it’s cheaper by the year. But you can pay the 10 bucks, just to see if you like the story, as well as my other writing.

To break it down even further, it works out to 8¢ a day.

Now, the reason people are asking questions about the paywall and if they should put their work up behind the paywall, is because as readers, no one seems to think that they should have to pay for fiction. That’s it. That’s the issue. Why pay a writer for his work, when half of them are putting it up on Amazon for 99¢? And the other half are giving it away for FREE. However, there are those out there who feel that some writers deserve their support, and like Murray, and Irene, my brother, and Lorahley, they’re willing to pay $30 for a year as a way of encouragement — in fact, ALL of my PAID subscribers feel that way. And I love them for that…

Now, the story so far…

While in Camelot town, Locksley and Grummer have had a run-in with the Orkney Knights (they’re the Bad Guys, and we hate them, don’t we?) and Agravaine has cut the fetlock of Locksley’s horse, thereby having left the horse to be put down. (The horse is killed by the Blacksmith, Eric the Dane.) This is the morning of the next day…

Sir Bedivere (from a picture taken off Pinterest)

CHAPTER 19 PART TWO: HIS DOUBLET

“I am a Knight in name alone,” Locksley said, standing in the doorway of the smithy. He looked up at the giant Dane who had stopped his hammering as he saw Locksley approaching. It was the morning of the next day. The big man looked  at his son, nodded, and the boy stopped working the bellows, the echo of the hammer still resounding in Locksley’s ears.

Locksley stood, leaning against the open door of the smithy, the heat of the flames a comfort to the burning anger in his heart. His eyes could not turn away from the sight of the stall at the end of the stable. There were three stable hands cleaning the stall. The red-stained straw had been taken outside and burned, but the scent of blood still lingered in his mind; there would be no getting rid of that, he thought.

“You need not stand in shame, Sir Knight,” the big Dane said to Locksley with his thick Viking accent, looking down at him from his great height.

“Nay, t’is na shame what brings me ‘ere. I’m come t’ thank ye for the mercy that ye showed,” Locksley said. “T’was nay simple feat — but a killin’ blow, well struck.”

“An ill-struck blow that was ill-born,” the man replied.

“I will stand avenged,” Locksley said after a moment, looking at the man and sounding somber.

“It was a good horse,” the Dane said in an obvious search for words of comfort.

“The best days of m’ youth now ride with ‘is mem’ry,” Locksley said.

“He will wait and ride with ye into Valgrind — to the very gates of Valhalla,” the man said, matter-of-factly. “I will make you your harness, Sir Knight, as I hear the King's demand,” he said after a moment. “I will see you clothed with pride. They may call you The Beggar’s Knave, but you do not have to be a beggarly Knight. Camelot already has one Beggar Knight,” he said with a laugh.

“I thank ye, good sir,” Locksley replied, the laughter coming as an easy release.

The man nodded at his son and the child lifted the bellows;e the flames of the fire leaped back to life. It was obvious to Locksley that the man had nothing left to share, and he turned to walk away.

The big man waited as the flames came to heat, watching Locksley as he retreated across the yard.

In a moment, the echo of his hammer filled the morning once more.

“We need to go see Pellinore,” Bedivere was saying as he entered the Common Room, looking at Grummer as if he was expecting an answer right away.

      “An’ what will ye have come about with that?” Grummer asked.

“What? Nothing. I mean to say, we need to warn him of the danger he’s in,” he added.

“Aye? An’ what danger be that?” Grummer asked, and leaning forward filled his goblet in front of him  with wine. He held the pitcher up and looked at Bedivere, who nodded.

“The Orkneys attack you, and you ask what danger there is in it?” he said, pulling the bench out and sitting across from Grummer. “Are you that much of a fool?” Bedivere asked him with a slow shake of his head. “You know, I’ve heard there are men like you in the world, but I never thought you’d be that man.”

“Och, leave off, will ye Beddy? Do I nay have enow on me plate t’ sort through, with The Boys both clinging t’ their lives, an’ nay harness t’ be found for Locksley?”

“Exactly my point!” Bedivere said, laughing.

“Ye know me for what I am, Beddy. The Beggar Knight of old, the drunken pastiche —”

“The drunken what? You read too many of those damned books to be talking to me — or anyone else for that matter — with words like that. That you are a drunk, no one disputes, or denies, but that other…what?”

“Pastiche? T’is an ill-used word of nay consequence. Think ye nay more on it. T’is but to say that I’m a work in question…a work of art, a lyrical, musical, imitation o’ life,” he laughed.

“If that’s your way of saying you’re a fool, I will not argue. Tell me, will you be sitting in Dag’s place beside the King now?”

“T’would be givin’ the world I would, t’ have Palomides by m’ side once more,” Grummer said with a slow shake of his head. “Aye, an’ e’en ‘is wife, the comely cunt. Would I knew where he was.”

“It’s Locksley you should be thinking of,” Bedivere said. “The boy could well be the hothead his father was of yore. He may well go after Agravaine for what he’s done.”

“Aye, an’ good that ‘e will, I’ve nay doubt,” Grummer said.

“You don’t? It will not just be a simple tilt in the fields, but a battle to the death, as well you know. Is that what you want? Is that what you’d have for Locksley? To face him? Even knowing Agravaine as you do?”

“T’is not Aggie fer Locksley t’ fear, but Locksley fer Aggie t’ fear,” Grummer said. “T’was the beast the boy loved most in the world, an’ Aggie took it from ‘im. T’is avengin’ his loss the boy will seek now.”

“And well you know how vengeance leads some men to hot-headedness, and others to distress. When your head’s not clear, you leave yourself open to challenge. Is that what you want for the boy?”

“I’ve nay fear o’ the boy facin’ Aggie,” Grummer said. “Aggie’s old — e’s nay as old as we twain — but the bastard’s slow. He’s o’er-mindful of ‘is own neglect, an’ o’erthinks ‘itself of ‘is own prowess, an’ long ‘as ‘e been like that. I’ve seen it m’self, tiltin’ with ‘im in last year’s tournamentin’. Ye know yerself how well-couched in lancing the boy is. Ye’ve seen ‘im a-tiltin’ on the fields at Inverness. He’s e’en unhorsed yerself, dressed as ‘e was in my ‘arness, an’ that, unbeknownst to yerself.”

“Yes, he has, and well I remember the day he did. And he saved Pellinore from certain death the day he killed Lot, which is all the more reason to see Pellinore if you want to have him harnessed.”

“An’ what of the King’s offer?”

“You of all people should know how Arthur’s promises are prone to fall short.”

“An’ would ye have me beggin’ of Pelly, then?”

“That’s just you being stubborn again. It’s not begging he’ll be doing. It’s Locksley seeking his just reward for saving Pelly’s fuckin’ life.”

“An’ with Pelly stroked, who will Locksley be approachin’? Lam?”

“Is that so wrong?”

“Aye, t’is,” Grummer said. “With meself bein’ indebted t’ the man.”

“Why am I even talking to you about this? It’s Locksley I should be talking to,” he said, throwing his arms up in frustration.

“Aye, an’ what would ye have me talkin’ of?” Locksley asked, entering through a cloud of shadow that hung over the door’s lintel; the shadow clinging to the frame stretched out to grasp at the door like an old friend.

“We need to see Pellinore and have him dress you in your harness,” Bedivere said, looking up at the young Knight.

“Did nay the King but promise yestermorn t’ dress me out in harness?”

“The King’ll say what he needs to, in order to save face,” Bedivere said.

“Aye, so said ye yestermorn, in the castle,” Locksley pointed out.

“Pellinore will harness you out of gratitude,” Bedivere said.

“An’ will ‘e dress m’ shield?”

“If ye but had a shield,” Grummer smiled.

“Aye, that I have one in mind ye needs but ask,” Locksley said.

“You’ll need more than just a shield,” Bedivere pointed out.

“Eric the Dane ‘as promised t’ harness me in a new kit,” Locksley nodded.

“As by the King’s command? Or by the King’s coin?” Grummer asked, looking at Bedivere.

“By ‘is own, or so ‘e says,” Locksley said.

Grummer looked at Bedivere again and leaned back against the wall. “What say ye now of what need we have of Pelly, Beddy?”

Bedivere smiled, and turned to look at Locksley. He shook his head as he reached across the table, pouring himself another goblet of wine.

“And tell me, my good Sir Locksley, Knight of the Field, and Knight Beyond-the-Wall,” he asked purposely, looking at Grummer as he spoke. “Did Eric the Dane promise you a horse, as well?”

“Nay, Sir Beddy,” Locksley laughed, looking at Grummer. “The Dane spake nay of ‘orsin’ me. Think ye the True King will, whene’er he learns that Orkney bastard slew mine?”

“I’m counting on it.”

“Ach,” Grummer said. “The lad is nay wantin’ t’ see the True King; it’s ‘is niece what draws ‘im in, and well ye ken it.”

“And that, my dear Sir Grummer — pagan Knight from Beyond-The-Wall — is what we, down here, call killing two birds with one stone.”

These are short “parts” of my Chapter. This chapter is divided into 4 parts. Each of the parts are divided into 1200-1500 words. (I know, short right?) and together make up one chapter. Tell me what you think, and leave a comment. Are they too short, considering the length of my chapters.