THE SHIELD OF LOCKSLEY
Part 2 (CHAPTER 10)
Palomides
As he came up over the rise and out of the trees, Lance saw three pavilions on the other side of the clearing. He pulled up under the shade and umbrella-like canopy of a large elm tree. He looked over at Baudwin, his Squire, who had jumped off his horse and was already untying Lance’s shield from where it hung off the pack horse. Lance was almost certain he recognized two of the pavilions, and shook his head slowly.
“Do you recognize them?” he asked.
“Maybe, if I could read the flags out front.”
The three flags on the pavilions were hanging limp in the gentle breeze, their colours reflected in the huge puddles. Lance didn’t recognize the third flag and was quick to dismiss it. He was almost positive he recognized them.
“Well, I do,” he said.
That’s Grummer and Lamorak, he said to himself, spurring his horse ahead.
The day was warm, the sun having crested the trees long ago, and he wondered why the two of them were still encamped for the day. As he cleared the trees, it became obvious as to what happened; Gawain’s horse lay dead in the middle of one of the large puddles, with four dead men-at-arms scattered around it. Three of the men-at-arms had arrows sticking out of them, and Lance smiled seeing them dead. There was little love lost between himself and the Orkney Knights. The bodies were being stripped by the two Squires, the arms and weapons piled in front of them—Grummer was never one to not take advantage of a situation—and he found himself grinning as he approached the encampment.
He turned to look at Baudwin, but the lad shook his head and shrugged.
“That’s Lam’s ensign, isn’t it?” Lance said.
“You would know that more than I, monsieur,” Baudwin replied, his Gallic accent thick and difficult for most people to understand.
“And the other tent?”
Baudwin shook his head.
“I’m thinking it’s that Saracen. Look,” he said, pointing. “Isn’t that his beast behind the pavilion?” Lanceasked, letting his horse pick its way along the trail.
There was a call of warning, and Lance watched as one of the Saracen’s Immortals stepped into the clearing in front of the three pavilions, followed by the Saracen himself, standing with his scimitar in his hands. The huge blade caught the light, its reflection playing on the surface of the pool in front of him. He swung his weapon through the air, watching as Lance and Baudwin approached the camp, stopping some distance away.
The Immortal had his bow drawn taut, pointed at the two riders, and Lance saw another Immortal standing in the shadows of the pavilion, while yet a third one stood on the low rise behind. The two Squires in the field were quick to use the dead horse for cover, and both had their longbows pointing at them. Lance looked at Baudwin who had an arrow notched in his bow, and shook his head. Baldwin eased back on the arrow, but never released it.
Lance waited, watching the two Saracens in front of him, one of whom said something over his shoulder. The middle tent rustled and then the flap opened. Lamorak stepped out of the tent with a Knight Lance didn’t recognize. Lamorak put a hand up to shield his eyes, and then grinned, saying something to the two Saracens.
“What’s this, Lam? Can’t say I know much about the company you’re keeping these days,” he said, looking at the dead horse in the field. “But, those are Orkney colours out there, aren’t they?” he asked, stepping down from his horse and passing the reins up to Baudwin. He held his hands out to the side.
“Lance!” Lamorak called out, stepping out to meet his friend—laughing—as the two men enfolded each other in their arms. “I see you’ve met Palomides. Have you met Palomides?” Lamorak asked, stepping back and looking at Lance.
“Not that I know of, but I’ve heard rumours and stories about him out of Tintagel; most of them from Tristram, I might add,” he added with a laugh. He looked at Palomides. “If you’re going to make an enemy, you should think about choosing someone less capable,” he smiled.
“One could say the same for him,” Palomides said, his voice clipped, the accent making it difficult for Lance to understand him.
Lance laughed once more and then turned and looked out at Gawain’s horse laying dead in the field. He looked back at Lamorak, who nodded slowly, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. Vergil and Brennis were picking over the bodies again, along with the third Immortal warrior.
“And who is this?” Lance asked, looking up at Locksley.
“Grummer’s kin.”
“Grummer’s kin? And where’s Grummer?”
“He’s in a spot of trouble from what I can gather,” Lamorak said, sounding serious.
“And The Boys?”
“Injured during our little tilt with the Orkneys.”
“Serious?”
“Come, see for yourself,” Lamorak said, leading Lance to the pavilion.
“And who is Grummer traveling with? Is he with Bedivere?”
Lamorak shook his head as he pulled the flap back and waited for Lance, Palomides, and Locksley to enter. It was dark, with the only light coming from three tallow candles stuck to a pole. Lance stopped, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The tight quarters of the pavilion stunk of burned tallow, wet hide, and rotting flesh.
“By the gods, old and new,” Lance said, his voice a soft whisper as he put a hand to his mouth. He could see Geoffrey and Godfrey laying on a shared bundle of furs, both with heavy fever; their shirts were soaked in sweat, their faces glowing in the dull light of the candles
“We couldn’t have done any of this if Palomides and his Immortal weren’t here to help us,” Lamorak said.
“We Parthians pride ourselves on our medical prowess,” Palomides explained. “However limited.”
“Who took off Geoffrey’s leg?” Lance asked.
“I did. It was crushed beyond repair. The bone was sticking out. All thanks to Gawain and his brothers.”
“Why did they attack you?”
“Falachd,” Lamorak said, stumbling over the word.
“Am I supposed to understand that? Because I don’t.”
“It’s Gaelic for vengeance…well, it means a little more than just that.”
“And what did you do to earn the wrath of the Orkney Knights?”
“Me? I didn’t do anything. It’s my father they want. I just happened to be more readily available. Well, there’s that, and the fact that I’m fucking their mother. I don’t think they like that I’ve bedded her.”
“You’re what? No, Lam, tell me you’re not,” Lance said, looking up at the man.
“Have you seen their mother?”
“She’s an old and wizened crone.”
“Lance? You’re talking about the woman I love.”
“Love? You can’t love her. Christ on His Cross, Lam, she’s the king’s sister.”
“And you think I don’t know that?”
“And why do you say they were looking for Pellinore, when it’s so obviously you?”
“He killed Lot, not me. I wasn’t there that day, remember?”
“All right. All right. We’ll sort it out later. Now, tell me, where’s Grummer? You said he was in trouble. What sort of trouble? Did he not pay his bill at the last whore house the two of you were in?”
“I haven’t seen him.”
Lance looked at Locksley.
“ ’Twas the Orkney Knights, aye,” Locksley said.
“Do you speak the same clap-trap Grummer spits out? I can never understand that man when he speaks at the best of times.”
“Aye, that I do,” Locksley grinned.
“Why did they attack?” Lance asked. “It’s not like Bedivere to get caught with his pants down—”
“We were nae with Bedivere.”
“Then who were you riding with?”
“Yer kinsman.”
“Mine?”
“Ector deMaris.”
Lance turned to look at Lamorak.
“My brother! He’s riding with Ector and you never said anything?”
“How would I know? I met up with them over-morn. And then we were attacked by the Orkneys. After that we had to cut off Geoffrey’s leg, and pull a barb out of Godfrey’s back. With all the confusion and carnage, it must have slipped my mind.”
“And were you planning on doing anything about it?” Lance asked.
“Locksley said Geoffrey had an idea, but he’s in no condition to offer up any ideas, is he? Right now, we don’t even know if either one of them will make it. We have to take them some place where we know they’ll be looked to.”
“And where would that be?”
“There’s a village with a monastery close by.”
Locksley