Lancelot Part 9

The Pain we inflict.

The duo came was riding on the plains when they heard of some shouts for mercy. They took to gallop their horse over the rise on the plains and came upon two monks trying to get to their cart. There were three men who looked like brigands were besieging the cart from the monks. The brigands were taunting them with their drawn swords as they continue pulling the cart. Lancelot need no more persuasion as he rode down to confront the brigands. They saw him coming and they took to their heels immediately in the other directions.

"Thank you, Sire." The monks stood in front of the approaching riders. The monks were frantic on stopping the riders from attacking the brigands. Lancelot reeled in his horse and dismounted. In front of him are two frail looking monks wearing the simple brown frock and wooden sandals.

"We are from the Order of Castell. My name is Pieter and my companion is Marko. He is under the oath of silence and would not speak to anyone." The one who spoke looked older and lack of hair on his head top. "We were on way back to the Order when these brigands came upon us. They think we were carrying gold from the town but we have are only food and wine for our Order given by the town folks."

Lancelot looked to the departing brigands and decided that there would be another day to catch them.

"Let us escort you back to your Order." Lancelot offered the monks his protection.

"Knight, welcome to the Order of Castell." The duo were welcome to the abode of the monks. Its a humble abode for the monks, but to the knight, its a high tower on top of the hill overlooking a hidden valley. The tower five levels housed their chambers which two are for living uses and the other levels housed their works of generations which include scrolls and prized literary works. With these treasures, there should be hunters for it, but the tower is well guarded by a pack of hounds that the monks maintained. Another thing is that what is treasure to one may be just worthless scrolls to another. Beside the tower, are several lower structures which house the worshiping hall and workshops. The monks here are few but they maintained a number of gardens and yards with their gardening skills.

It was Bran who convince Lancelot to stay for a while as he wants to read the scrolls. He used to learn reading when he was at the Lake. He has been doing when the situation permits when they were out here but he had never come to a place like this.

While Lancelot spend his time to improved his skills, Bran saw himself to the scrolls and he had Pieter for company. It was then he learned something which would change his life.

"What was this Black Death?" Bran asked the monk.

"It happened not long ago when many of our people perished then. It was a time of mourning and then the land heal with the people on it."

"Its said here that there was a ritual called ..............flagellation. It was to help in keeping the death away." Bran asked he read more on the ritual.

"It was then, but that ritual was never meant to dispel evil. But in faith, it expunged out their time to be spent at the Underworld." Pieter explained. "I have many a times do it for the ones who asked of my service. Its my duty to serve them."

Pieter got up and lowered his frock to show the scars on his back. He has been doing it for years now and each time he does it, the healing times take longer than before.

"Pieter, show me."

Bran was to start his lessons on it as he felt that in his life, he had committed many sins, and would like to cleanse of them.

Lancelot swing the sword like an extension of his hand as he grew more confident in Arondite. He was doing it when he saw the mute monk doing some practice of his own with a long wooden staff. Lancelot watched as the other used his staff like an extension of his limbs and swinging it overhead in perfect sync moves without dropping it. What amazed Lancelot when he saw the monk swing the wooden staff down from his head to the ground, and causing a long welt on the soil with dust bellowing out on impact.

Lancelot clapped his hands on the seeing the demonstration causing Marko to paused in his training. Marko bowed his head and took leave of the yard before Lancelot can speak another word to him.

"Marko is a shy one." The voice spoke from the hidden corner. Lancelot looked over and saw a older man sitting under the shade.

"I apologies as I did not see you, old man." Lancelot spoke to the old man, who smiled with his toothless grin. During his stay here, Lancelot had only met 

"There no need to apologies as the few of us who are here prefer to remain unknown." The old man speaks out. "I seen you here the last two days, which is most unusual for any guests or lodgers."

"Lodgers?" Lancelot queried.

"Yes, there are. They come here for the rituals. They need their sins cleanse and to shorten their time in the Underworld when they depart for it. Are you one too?" The old man asked Lancelot. "You are a knight and there are times when you may had needs of it."

"No, I am not like them. I came here on the request of Pieter and would be leaving soon." Lancelot correct himself. It was then the monks brought out a body covered with streaks of bloody welts on the back and they left the wounded man in the yard faced down. The old man excused himself and walked over to the wounded man. The Old man crouched down next to the wounded man and recite some prayers, then later he reached to his robe to remove the poultice that he would apply at the wounds.

Lancelot watched the old man worked his healing and then the old man retired to the side to watch the wounded man heaving in breath. Lancelot stood by the wounded man.

"He would spend less time at the Underworld. God has forgiven his penance and now soothe his pain." The old man spoke out to the wounded man. Lancelot heard him but he was confused on it. How can one be given forgiveness and why in this state. Its not like the last rites when a person is dying, but this man would live although he would need time to recover.

"Old man, please tell what you have just said. I am ever confused on what did transpired here?" Lancelot asked of the old man.

"If I may, Sire; let me take you into the shade and I would explain to you this ritual."

Flagellations had been a common method of punishment in the Pagan world. There were instances that it was usual punishment inflicted on slaves since even the Roman days. The first recorded writings of it was on the Scythians who on returning from their long expedition in Asia, finds their home and lovers are taken over by the slaves. The Scythians find that their new war was at their own homes, and the lashes was deemed to be more fearful than the iron blades. Those they could not conquer with the terror of lashes were subdue with the blade as a final count of action.

This practice have not being only on one nation but across to even the Persians who uses it on their own people. In times, it was used by conquerors or generals to gratify themselves for their victory over the defeated, and its also a moral boost for their troops to see the defeated subject to such degrading punishment. As this practice widens in use by many civilisations, then the ingenuity of designing more exerting tools came to fruit; the lashes were given prominence in the degree of punishment it should bring out. From the flat strap of soft leathers to the hard oxen straps as like those use on the former to over their bulky weight. The choice of the straps was the prerogative of the inflictor and the more harsh the need may call on the more painful ones.

During that time, there was a shift of it towards a rite to perform this in the public as a penance. The practice supposedly grew out of the floggings administered as punishment to erring monks, although flagellation as a form of religious expression is an ancient usage. Among the flagellants it was an extreme expression of the ascetic ideal. It was sanctioned by the Holy Houses, however it did not appear until more during the Black Death. These advocates of the ritual, soon marched into prominence with their display of public flagellation while exhorting the people to repent. It was soon widespread and as more indulged in it, there were also some who abuse the true intention of it. It was then the authorities of certain land took action to stop it but the rites are still practiced by some sects or Orders in their own inner walls.

Lancelot asked on further if that would actually lessen his load in his soul when he carries over to the other world.

"My son, no burden is ever reduced unless you do it by yourself. If pain would be your method, then do the best of it to clear your penance." Those words ring in the mind of Lancelot as he walked back to his chamber. He reached his own door and hears the sound of lashing. He barges in and see Bran stripped to his leggings and kneeling on the flooring, was lashing himself on the back with a leather strap.

"Bran, stop it! Why do you punished yourself?" Lancelot grabbed the lash from Bran's hand and threw it aside. "Are you mad?"

"No, Sire. I have sinned and I am doing what I can to reduce my penance." Bran spoke out meekly from his kneeling position. "Please, Sire. Do me the lashes as I find it difficult to master it myself."

"This is an absurd. I refuse to partake in your game, Bran." Lancelot reached for his squire and pulled him up. "Have we not suffered enough in the battles we fought than to self inflict more of it by ourselves."

But Bran pulled away and knelt down on his knees again.

"I have sinned, Sire. I need to be punished." He cried out in despair.

"Of what sin did you commit that I need to had you punished?" Lancelot asked him back.

"The sin of desiring you, Sire." Bran cried out in his words. He then fell forward on his face and cried out his emotions. "I have desired you...... I saw you with thar wench. Its not fair... You are mine. All mine......."

Lancelot on hearing of that, could not control his rage. Its improper for a man to desire another. Its against their beliefs and above all, not condone by many. He saw the lash on the flooring and he picked it up.

"Blasphemy! You impudent..... Oaf!" Lancelot brought the lash down hard on Bran's back not once or twice but several times. He was upset that Bran who had followed him for so long yet could have such desire. It upsets him more that Bran actually spied on him when he was weak in his character.

Above all, Lancelot felt the Bran betrayed his trust.

"Yes, hit me." Bran cried out as the lashes bit into his flesh. "My pain for your sins."

That stopped Lancelot in his lashing. Did he hear right from the words of Bran? How can Bran be suffering for his sins. He had none as he could recalled. He dropped the lash and then walked out of the chamber. He did not pause until he was at the cellar where the wines are kept. He took down one small barrel and removed the cork on it. He took down the wine gushing into his throat as if he intend to drown in it.

Then he stopped the binge as he saw himself down on the flooring.

"Bran, I have no sins. Those you may had heard or seen, are imposed on me. I was not the initiator, but she was the one. She tricked me, and she used me." He cried with tears from his eyes. "I did not want it. She forced me."

Then he stopped in his emotions. He then looked around and then spoke out again.

"Maybe I am. I have desired her since then. I must not denied my feelings for her. She was my first and I liked her..... No, I love her." Lancelot spoke out aloud. Then he took up the barrel to take a long drink of it.

"My Lord, help me. I am ever confused." Lancelot on placing down the barrel, called on his faith to curb him of this confusion. "I know not what I am nor what I would be."

In his half drunken state, the image of Bernice appeared before him. She is still there on the bedding and inviting him. He walked over but then he sees Bran standing there at the other side of the bedding; naked and holding out his manhood to Lancelot.

"No, it can't be...." Lancelot screamed out. "It not you I want. Its her. Go away!"

But then the image of Bernice have changed. She is now the wench who he slept on that night at the Tavern. She is looking at him and smiling with her raised knees open to him. He looked up to where Bran was standing and now he sees Bernice with her fiancee. They are holding each other and kissing passionately. Then Bernice looked over to him and smiled.

"Do it as you would of me." Bernice told him. Lancelot looked down and now he sees Bran on the bedding now. He is lying there with his manhood upright.

"I am here, Sire. To serve you." Bran spoke to him.

"No....." Lancelot cried out loud and threw the barrel across the cellar. "That is not me. I been taken over by the Evil ones."

Lancelot got up and hit his fists against the cellar hard walls. He pound it till his hands are bloodied, and then he slide down to the ground again. He saw another small barrel within reach and he took it to drink, with his blood runneth down along with the wine into his throat.

Soon he was asleep dreaming of Bernice. It was to be sweet dreams, and there was no Bran inside. What he did not see then was the two figure standing there at the cellar entrance.

"Come, my son. Your wounds needs some poultice while his needs sleeping." Bran followed the monk named Pieter to the infirmary section.