THE SHIELD OF LOCKSLEY

This is chapter 25, in which we learn of Grummer's one time love, and a little more about his youth...like how he and Beddie met, for one thing...

So you don’t get all mad at me for not telling you, this is paywalled.

I’ve spent most of the day working on my video for THE CELEBRITY DINER. I got it all edited and looking good, but can’t seem to upload it for whatever ungodly reason. It was driving me crazy. So much so, that I had to step away and tell myself I needed to distance myself from it. It is so frustrating.

So, that brings me to this, a new chapter. I can’t really say too much without sending out spoilers to those who don’t want to up-Grade. But I will say that Grummer, Beddie, Locksley, and Brennis are riding with Lamorak on the Quest he volunteered for. Except…he’s not with them right now. He’s ridden off to who knows where, with a promise to meet at Inmann’s Tavern.

Mr. Inmann used to be a neighbour of mine. He was a mysterious sort of man, and I only found out years later, that he used to play the piano on some radio program on the CBC. I don’t know what it was, as I was just a kid of single digits, and he was always a spooky looking man with his fedora and trench coat.

But I do that with my stories. I put people in them that I’ve known at different times in my life. I put names of people I used to work with into my stories — (and yes, Gregg, I will get you into one some day. And you too, Mike) — as well as people I went to school with. My favourite name was the Guide we met (pretentious moment coming up!) in Rome. Benjamin Messenger. What an amazing name. As soon as he introduced himself, I knew I was going to use his name. I used his name in one of my stories: THE EVIL THAT MEN DO. Why wouldn’t I?

Anyway, enough about that, because it’s getting really late and I have to get this story out…or chapter I mean.

I’ve opened up my chapters allowing you to read a small portion of it before the paywall goes up. I wasn’t going to do that, but I changed my mind, thinking maybe someone might read it and want to up-grade.

I’m not holding my breath thinking everyone’s going to rush to subscribe for my PAID page, but maybe one might. It’d be nice to see 40 Paid. So…Grogg? Al? (I can’t say his full name because his son’s on TV and that’s not fair to him.) Or even you Mikey? (Maybe Stevie will want to read it?)

Anyway, it’s open for a while. If no one up-Grades to PAID over the next two months or so, I’ll close it off again, because really, what’s the point if it’s not doing anything?

Oh yeah, one last thing…

This is a long’ish chapter.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE…

THE KNIGHTS AT INMANN’S TAVERN

Locksley sat on his horse, looking relaxed in his maille, waiting as Eamon and all the Huntsmen entered the courtyard, leading a string of pack horses in tow. There were a dozen horses at least, but he’d lost count of them once they turned and mixed themselves within each other, a cloud of dust rising up around them. One of the stable hands closed the gate, riding it in and whooping at the same time as the horses snorted and shuddered, shaking themselves as if they might rid themselves of the strange packs they carried. One or two of them jumped and stomped but soon settled down on their own. They looked to be sound horses from what Locksley knew of horses. As well as the horses, there were three wagons full of tents and weapons — the eight long lances the Blacksmith made would somehow be fit onto the wagons.

He thought about Gwenellyn, searching her out among the Huntsmen. He saw her and told himself he couldn’t allow himself to be seen staring at her. He told her they couldn’t be seen together, or ride together — not without drawing the attention of the other riders — and if she wanted her ruse to succeed, she’d have to pretend she was a Huntsman.

Brennis approached on his horse at a slow trot, looking at the crowded collection of pack horses under the watchful eye of a single Huntsman. As well, there was a pair of sumpters to care for the wagons, and Brennis shook his head as he pulled up on the reins beside the young Knight. They sat silent for a moment, as if they were both waiting for the tumult and confusion to subside.

“It’s nice to see you’re looking every part of you the Knight people are hoping to see,” Brennis said with a slow smile, eyeing the new maille he wore. “I wanted the people to know you by your armour — and know it for yourself.

“T’ be honest, I’d rather nay have t’ wear it,” Locksley declared. “Ye’ve nay need t’ sit there a’stonied as it was yerself what helped me wit’ my garbin’ this morn,” Locksley laughed. “T’is a sight more’n a tad unwillful when it comes t’ the garbin’ of a Knight,” he added.

“And so it is, but a right fine job of it I did, thank you very much,” the lad smiled again. “I was sitting up half the night polishing and scrubbing the mud off for both yourself, and your mount. But then, The Knight of the Rose has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“A far cry better than The Beggar’s Knave,” Locksley agreed, looking at Grummer as he came down the outside stairs with Bedivere.

The old Knight looked every bit of him deserving of the name The Beggar Knight, Locksley thought. His gambeson was old and faded — there was a tear on the left sleeve that had yet to be patched. The chain mail he wore was rusting in places he remembered being there when he was still Grummer’s Squire. His long hair was tied in a single plait that hung down half the length of his back, while his beard fanned out across the wide expanse of his chest; though it was still as long as it ever was, it looked thinner now. The red colour of his youth had given way to grey, and even white in places, Locksley noticed for the first time.

Bedivere looked just as old and worn-out in appearance as Grummer did, except that his maille was neater, cleaner, and in good repair. Locksley knew that it had more to do with Edenson when he’d Squired for the old man, than it did for Bedivere himself. He wondered how long it would take for Bedivere to find himself another Squire now that Edenson had take Holy Orders. Still, Bedivere’s hair was shorter, falling to his shoulders, and his beard was neat and trimmed, and though white now, it seemed to highlight the man’s dark eyes and his still dark brows.

Brennis was looking at the horses and the wagons, as well as the six Huntsmen, and looked at Locksley as he shook his head in wonder. “I had no idea there’d need to be so much…stuff to bring,” he said.

“T’is true, that,” Locksley said with a smile. “An’ t’is an over-large troop we’re ridin’ out with, aye; there’s more’n just us ridin’ out this morn. At least ye willna have t’ go out an’ ‘unt for our dinner, like ye did the aforetime. They have a larder-cart with ‘em.”

“What’s that?”

“Aye, lad,” he smiled. “That means they’ve someone with ‘em what cooks the victuals they’ve brought.”

“And what was that you said about your having to go, by order of the King?” Brennis laughed. “As if a man would refuse to go on such a Quest. All you have to do is try to keep away from Sir Lamorak.”

“I canna see how that’s gonna happen,” Locksley smiled. “But with Six Huntsmen, I canna say ‘ow things’ll fare fer yerself an’ Vergil.”

“It’s better if you think of your own distress, than what I may have to endure,” Brennis smiled. “Vergil’s a good man and has shown me more than you could have ever showed me, or would think to,” he added.

“Are ye sayin’ I’ve let ye down?”

“I couldn’t say that; I’ve nothing I can compare you to,” Brennis laughed. “But Vergil knows well your good friend Eamon, and he’s spoken to him at length as to taking me under his tutelage and teaching me to throw my blades while Vergil attends to whatever it is Lamorak is up to.”

“Good that,” Locksley laughed.”How can ye claim a weapon an’ not be it’s master?”

“The very words Sir Brandel said just last week.”

“An’ who, pray-tell, is Sir Brandel?”

“It seems the old man with them women was once a knight.”

“An’ ye’ve got ‘im showin’ ye on ‘ow t’ throw a knife, as well? T’is all well and good, that, but what is it that’ve ye found out about our Quest?” Locksley smiled, looking at the women as they prepared to mount the two small palfreys Eric brought out for them. He brought a small step out for them as well, and held the reins as each of the women mounted the ponies.

“The older woman’s Penelope, or something like that. I just called her Penny, and she answered me, so I don’t really know if it’s right or wrong. The young girl is Eleanore —”

“Who?” Locksley said, caught off guard by the name.

“Eleanore,” Brennis repeated.

“T’was a name once bespoke, that Grummer ‘ad long held dear. She died.”

“When?”

“I’m thinkin’ a twelvin’ in years? I canna say fer true, as I was younger then — in my tenth summer? T’was a name I’d heard oft enow, though.”

“I’m certain Sir Grummer will be able to see beyond that,” Brennis said. He was looking beyond Locksley, his head slightly tilted. Locksley turned to follow his gaze.

“I’d nay idea the man was a real Knight,” Locksley said with a smile, seeing Sir Brendal. “Was’t Eric who fashioned his suit, methinks.”

“Why would you think that?” Brennis asked with a smile.

“It’s nay so much that it looks as much as mine does, as mine does his,” he said with a smile. “It’s that ‘e has more added to it than mine own.”

“One would almost think you feel somewhat remiss upon seeing the man so attired,” Brennis half-laughed.

“The man looks too old t’ be a Knight. One’d think he dallied once upon a time with Old King Uther.”

“And who’s that?”

“The man what first set the Sword into the Stone,” Locksley replied. “Arthur’s father.”

“And how did he do that?”

“T’was the Myrrdyn what did that. I wasna there, so I canna say.”

Grummer came riding out into the yard with Bedivere, both men looking haggard and worn down. It was another night done in drinking, with Eamon and several of his Huntsmen. Locksley could see that the Huntsmen were none the worse for wear, while Grummer and Bedivere looked as if they been molested in their sleep.

“A fine looking day for a ride, uncle,” Locksley called out.

“Is it?” the Knight replied.

Locksley and Brennis laughed.

“Would it be pertinent of me to ask you where Sir Lamorak is?” Eleanore, the young girl, asked.

“Aye, Sir Grummer? Where is Sir Lamorak?” Brennis called out.

“Lam’s set out ahead of us and will meet us at Inmann’s Tavern toward the end of the week,” Bedivere said.

“Can ye say why now?” Locksley asked. Curious.

“Aye, Lam’s Lam, an’ there’s nay man what knows ‘im an’ the demons in ‘is ‘ead,” Grummer laughed, and called out to Eamon.

The Huntsman looked, waved, and spurred his horse on a tight rein, bowing with a laugh as he stopped in front of the three Knights, locked within a rising cloud of dust.

“A harsh night no doubt, Sir Grummer,” the man laughed.

“They do take longer,” Grummer said, and Bedivere nodded.

Sir Bedivere’s shield as THE SWORD OF THE KING