Arthur II Book III Chapter 2

 

2.

 

The land is at peace and the people on it were rejoicing in the one year that so-named Arthur ruled as King. He was not remembered as the Roman Legionnaire but as King. Down south, as far as the Hadrian Wall, the Roman Legions are reduced with many recalled to Gaul and Hispania. The Western Roman lieges are in conflict and Rome had weak controls there. The barbarians are on the rise, and the civil unrest was disturbing. With the Legions recalled, the local authorities in Britannica were asked to maintain peace there. At the north of the Antoinne Wall, the land there was left to the new so-named King to manage.

Peace may have reigned in general but the knights needed to battle, if not for the enemies or those among themselves. In times of peace, duels were sanctioned from wooden swords to lances with blunt ends. The lance was an extension of the spear and was widely used by the Byzantine Empire or referred to as the Eastern Roman Empire. The origin of the lance may be from the Iberian Peninsula, and later widely used in different forms from the pilum and spears to the pikes.

As an Equities rider, he was familiar with the use of the pilum on horseback but to hold the lance which was twice the height of man, and the tip was blunt, spread out like cup to provide a wider impact on contact. The lance was hollow and designed to break on impact to avoid impalement. There was also a handguard for the rider to grip it with one hand. The rider will face the other in single combat using the lance to impact the other on the chest. If the rider on impact falls off the horse then it's defeated. The winner will be rewarded then with coins.

Percival adjusts his grip on the handguard of the lance. It felt heavier than the pilum but he was used to the weight. He wore the armored chest plate to protect his chest and the metallic headpiece to avoid his face being hurt.

“Are you ready, Sir?” Percival looked at his so-named squire.

“Are you mocking me, Galahad?”

“No, Percival. I want you to be ready to win.” Galahad was defeated by the other rider in an earlier bout. “He is good.”

“Is it a Man or ….? Or is it a lady inside there? We don’t know who is behind that helmet or even a real knight?” It was true then for the opponent was dressed in the green armor and had defeated three other knights.

“Green knight, he is called.” Galahad smiled. “And you are to be called….. the White Knight perhaps?”

“Dirty Knight will be more appropriate.” Percival looked at his armored chest plate. He had loaned it to Galahad and with the defeat on the other, it was coated with dirt.

“I did try to avoid the dirt on the fall.” Galahad smiled. He saw the steward was heading to the ground to call for the start of the joust.

“Aye, Sir. Your opponent awaits you.”

The clarion was sounded and the two knights rode out from opposing sides. They faced each other across the hundred yards length which also spanned the covered stand for the invited including Arthur himself and his Queen, Guinevere. She will offer the stalk to the white rose to the final winner of the day. Then it was the final round with Percival against the Green Knight.

The horns were sounded and the riders took to their charge. They rode hard holding the lances under the right arm with the left hand on the horse reins. The lance was rested on the mane of the horse turned to the left. The purpose of the lance was to impact the other knight.

They missed and rode past each other to the cheers of the invited and also the standing audience of other knights and servants.

The riders turned their horse and awaited the signal to ride. It was sounded and the knights faced each other.

They hit each other with the lances but the riders were still on the saddle. Both lances have broken and were replaced with new ones.

“She is the best we got. Molly is her name.” Galahad handed the lance to Percival.

“Molly is your lady.” Percival looked at the other.

“Not for now. She is all yours.” Galahad laughed. “Get her between your legs.”

The riders met on the stretch and both their lances impacted but only Percival fell from the horse.

“The winner of the match is …. the Green Knight.” The Magistrate announced. The Green Knight rode towards the stand. He did not dismount and sat there looking at Arthur.

“Thrice you have won, Green Knight this tournament.” Arthur leaned forward on the seat. “And till now, you won’t show me your face.”

“No, my King. I won’t. It’s my oath to remain unknown.” The Green Knight replied. “However, you have my service when needed.”

“I have heard that from you, Green Knight.” Arthur laughed. He then turned to Guinevere.

“My dear, the knight desires his rose.” Guinevere stood up and retrieved the stalk of rose from the servant with the bag of coins. She handed it to the victorious knight. The audience cheered and the knight rode off. Arthur got up from his seat and then turned to the druid.

“Tell me, Merlin.” The years have passed and Arthur had mellowed his annoyance with the druid. He calls him by name then. “Is that Sir Bernlak of Haus? I …”

“I shared your thought. Sir Bernlak will be too old to fight like that. I believed he is the new knight.” Merlin replied. “I know naught of his names.”

“That I still know of you, Merlin. Your counseling is veiled with selected words. You do know you are…”

“The court jester does not need to be selective in the words unlike me. I only speak the truth. And …. nothing less.” Merlin looked to Guinevere. He can see then that the lady was uneasy with the tournament but she was there for the King.

Or was it one other knight was not seen or heard.

“Lancelot, I wonder where are you?” Merlin asked himself.

The Green Knight rode towards the forest, and there he picked up his bags. He was to ride home to the hut in the forest but he was careful to check for anyone shadowing him. He rode onwards and then stopped at the dense forest where he has his cart there. He then removed his armor and placed it undercover on the cart. He then hitched the horse and pulled it along. He covered his face partly with the scarf to hide his identity. He was right on the shadowing for soon he saw the two riders

“Hey, you! Did you see a knight here?”

“No, I did not. I am a woodcutter. I collect woods.”

“Why is your face covered?”

“I am with sickness.” The two riders retreated. They have heard of the illness that maimed the limbs and scarred the body. They rode off without looking back.

Jaseth pulled the horse along for his long walk back home. He knew the coins meant nothing to the lady who offered him shelter and offered him the heavy halberd to train with. He had done so and his skills have improved. He then switched to work out with the horse and the lance. He holds enough coins to buy things but the older lady insists that she have enough from the forest.

Jaseth passed the old castle of Sir Bernlak of Haus, then occupied by the local Chief. He was told that by forfeit, the castle goes to the highest bidder and the coins were exchanged to the King. He felt it was right for him to collect the coins from the King.

Arthur saw the Queen at their chamber. She had stripped her gown and wore the soft tunic when she bathed. He was with her for a year then, but their relationship seems to be more cordial or consenting than love. Even their lovemaking was like a ritual between the wedded and not of love. He had turned away at times, citing tiredness when in fact, he felt no desire.

“My Lord!” Guinevere shuddered at the arms that reached over her waist. She was wet from the bath waters.

“Lord? No, I am the King, and in here, I only Arthur.” The man had removed his tunic and embraced her in nude. He was aroused but she was not.

“I am unwell, my Lord. It’s the time of the woman.” Guinevere told him. Arthur pulled back from her. He knew that was the time the lady needed her private moments.

“I am sorry. I did not mean to…”

“It’s okay. If you want, I can assist.” Guinevere turned to use her hands.

“No, my love. I will be fine. I will leave you to your bath.” Arthur turned and left her standing there. She felt the coldness that permeates her body through the wet tunic. She had lied to him but a part of her was confused. She had wanted him as a Man but she felt that she was betraying herself to believe it. It was a year then and Lancelot was not seen nor heard.

“Where are you, Lancelot?” That was in the mind of the lady.

The same prevailing thought was on Octavia Meleagant, He was there at the stand seated three rows behind Guinevere’s seat. He was not there for the tournament but for her. She was beautiful and despite her status, he was in love with her. He knew he cannot fight with Arthur but he will one day.

“Are you joining me for supper, Octavia?” The younger Meleagant looked to his father who intercepted the son at the hall at the villa. The father and son conflicted ever since the father saw the son’s foul acts on the servant.

“What manner of illness has taken you over for you to desecrate the place of worship. It’s a temple?” Bardel Meleagant confronted his son after they returned to the villa. He had arranged for the guards to bury the servant and burned the temple to the ground.

“I care not.” Octavia rebuked. “He was my servant. And more it was abandoned.”

“Abandoned? It may be but Adois was not. He was your servant but do that vile act upon him…. Are you mad?” Bardel snapped at the son.

“I am not mad. I am…” Octavia wept in his eyes. “I need …. love. And to satiate my lust.”

“I will find a wife for you,” Bardel told his son.

“No, I want to wed Guinevere.”

“Guinevere? The Queen? Are you… Yes, you are. What have I done to deserve this?’ Bardel looked away. “Of all the ladies on the land from here to Rome, why do you choose her? She is wedded to Arthur.”  

“Because I do love her.” Octavia had stormed off to his chamber.

“Stay with me here, Son. We need to talk.” Bardel told his son.

“No, Father. I will not join you. It has been a long ride and I am tired.  I will be in my chamber.” Octavia had retreated to his chamber. He had moved his chamber to the one that faced Camelot.

“Guinevere, one day you will be mine.”

Later that night, Bardel lay on the bedding with his lover, Julia. He told her of her son’s act. Julia was alarmed and then sat up.

“We need to get a healer for him. I may know a …”

“No, Julia. No potions or spells for him. He is my son.” Bardel told Julia. “I will find a cure for him.’