Arthur II Book III Chapter 10

 

10.

 

Percival looked at the mead it the goblet. The mead was made by fermenting honey with water, with various fruits, spices, grains, or the flowers of the hip plant. The last is a bittering item that only made it bitter in the taste but also holds the drink long in storage. You can find hops in the Hopfield; a vigorous plant that climbed up with the assistance of the ropes or stands. Some brewers used the ‘gruit’; a self blend of bitter herbs and flowers, including the dandelion, burdock root, marigold, horehound, ground ivy, and heather. The hops are used by the healers for their healing power.

Percival felt then his earlier life was not simple as he had thought of earlier but entwined with murders and power snatch.

“I left this place to avoid all that.” Percival tossed the goblet to the corner. The metal cup clanged on the flooring with the mead spilled.

“Why has it to haunt me now?” Percival looked at the one he had called his uncle. “Are you not his kin too?”

“I am but I lack the strength and power to fight them.” The elderly uncle named Fisher King replied. “Even Adriane can’t do it alone. We need you.”

“Or Galahad…” Percival replied with a cynical tone.

“We did not know if you still lived. We just wanted a knight that could fight the ….. witches.” Adriane admitted. “My sisters have left me to join the others. I am no more of the nine but an outcast.”

“Like me once before.” Percival sighed. “I may not be who you want.”

“You are the one, Percival. Remove Gornement. I can assist.” Adriane told him. “There is a weapon that can defeat them all. It’s called the bleeding lance.”

“It’s potent and it has to be fed with blood daily. Hence it’s the name. The lance caused the destruction and led to the war. It also led to the restoration and peace.” Adriane looked at Percival. “You may have heard the tale we told you when young.”

“You told me of one named Aillen mac Midhua used each the celebrated season of witches and demons to lull one that was asleep and then burned them to death. It was Finn who put an end that with the spear of Fiacha.” Percival recalled that old tale. “It was said that the lance was cast into a knoll where the fairy lived and was not seen for it will bring destruction to the realm.”

“Venomous the lance, and venom the hand that threw it, if it’s not cast not into the knoll, a murrain will seize the land.” Adriane recited the old poem that was on the spear.

“It’s a barbaric weapon,” Percival said.

“And it needed the hands of one who held innocence in his soul. Only you may have it.” Adriane replied. “Bear this in mind, the lance may not be returned to the knoll if it’s not satiated by the sacrifice.”

“I don’t understand.” Percival sounded baffled.

“Aye, it needs to be satiated for eternity,” Adriane told him. “Do it for me and my sisters. It’s our gift to you as the Lake had given to Arthur and Lancelot. One day, you may need it to unveil the Grail in your search.”

“The Grail? What Grail?” Percival asked.

“You will know of it one day.” Adriane then looked away. “They are here now. Prepare your weapon.” 

“I have not the lance,” Percival called out.

“It’s not to be found unless you will it, my dear Percie.” Percival heard his name called out to him by the one he had accepted his sister. He held out his arms and looked into his mind the spear that was to be his. As it was then when he played with the sisters, they taught him the will of the mind could fathom many dreams into reality. He had a willing spread of food and drinks which he shared with his sisters.

The gates to the Hall were broken in and eight fleeting figures with a group of warriors appeared led by one named Cwi.

If only doors can be broken in by force, Merlin would not have to patrol the corridors to keep his vigilance on the Queen soon after he learned of the return of Lancelot. She had left the sanctum of the chamber and was seen on the corridors and at the halls.

“Are you well, my Queen?” Merlin had posed the question to her when he sat across her at the table. She was enjoying a fruity drink while picking at the sour offerings.

“I am well, druid.” Guinevere smiled at him. That was rare for the druid was not the liked person to her.

“Oh…. Are you well? I mean did you sleep well?” Merlin was mentally calculating the days of Arthur’s departure. Could the Queen be with a child? He was not an expert at it; the nature of the lady with one. It was never described in the scrolls that mentioned but he did rely on midwives for advice.

“I did. I have woken up hungry and am here eating. Is that unjust?” Guinevere looked at the druid. “And I am not putting on any weight.”

Weight and body shape were the attributes of the conceived lady but she did not look like that. Merlin had to admit that she did look puckish and her bosom concealed under the bodice as well, very much the same. He sniggered to himself as if he was the odd mother looking for signs in the daughter.

‘Without Arthur by me, I have a good sleep.” Guinevere smiled.

“Arthur does snore, huh?” Merlin tried to find amusement in his words. The lady nodded and imitated the volume of it much to the amusement of the druid. He did not know if he does, but he knew the walls won’t tell on him.

“Do you….” Merlin swallowed his words.

“Miss him? I guess I should but no.” Guinevere then stood u and left the Hall. Merlin sat there perplexed and was advised by the elderly lady servant.

“The Queen is happy. She is released of her burden for a time.” The servant looked at Merlin. “You may not know of it being the druid. I am wedded twice and know the burden of the slob on mine. When the load is off, I felt so relieved but the urge will return and it needed soothing sooner and that is when I am the one who is the burden on the top.”

“How many have you of children?” Merlin asked.

“Eight and buried two.”

“Well, I may suggest you don’t make it twelve. Get a carrot. It’s a good rub on the urge.” Merlin had little time to leave the Hall before the servant tossed the cutlery at him.

“Get yourself immersed on the anthill, you twerp!” Merlin heard it all before ant hill that was new.

Arthur had seldom seen the insects in his paths with his focus on the battles ahead. He used to search for spiders and other crawlies when young but all that was left behind with age.

“Is that an insect?’ Arthur pointed to the dark one that was seen by him which had the length of his hand.

“A stick they called it.” Kay who was familiar with the forest spoke. “They are called sticks. They lived on the rocky terrain of the hills and seldom seen at the lowlands.”

“They do bite.” Kay laughed. “If provoked…”

“Nothing of that compared to the centipede. You will check your traveling boots before you slip your foot in.” Belvedere laughed. “I had my marks by them.”

“I have my share with them. And scorpions.” Arthur replied. “They are all deadly creatures and lurked in the places you will never think to have.”

“I dislike them like some women I have known. You give them a shagging and they think you owed them a lifetime of gratitude. If you renegade, they will bite you with their sting.” Kay roared.

“And we shall shag then. I hear of a settlement nearby. I am sure they will be keen to please the King and his knights.” Belvedere added in.

“And meads with meat,” Arthur added on. He has been away far too long from his Queen and was reliving his life than when he was not King. He smiled for he may yet sire a son where Guinevere had not done for him. He had tried but it was not happening.

“Like good mead spilled out of the goblet.” Arthur sighed.

If there was wastage, Lady Igraine was not at it. By nightfall, when alone in her chamber, she had fed the dark creature handed to her by Morgause. She fed it with trapped insects. She watched her pet fought off the stick insect and then devoured it.

“Yes, my dear. I may have a task for you.” Lady Igraine smiled. “A pesky druid.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” The voice of Morgause was heard. Lady Igraine turned to look at the witch that had appeared in her chamber. The witch was dressed in the dark shade of the night; a clinging gown that displayed her curves and on her head was the fanned-out ornamental piece with the dark webbing and the tail of the silky material that trailed behind like the tail.

“Why have you returned?” Lady Igraine glared at the witch. “The dark…”

“Creature? No, you must not demean the companion of yours. It’s a witch in there, absorbed by the dark spells to that dark shell. He was once a foe and Merlin took him down.” Morgause motioned to the scorpion. On the mention of Merlin, the scorpion had its tail up.

“Oh, he is aroused. Surely, darling. I am not your type.” Morgause spoke to the scorpion. She then looked at Lady Igraine. “I knew the creature as you termed it has been your feeder of the dark venom. I can feel your power from here. It’s good that you are getting there but to unleash your pet on Merlin may be your premature death.”

“I cared not. Merlin is in the way of my daughter with Arthur.”

“Your daughter? Mind you, the clinging of mother’s care. Beware, my dear. Guinevere was never your daughter and more to it, she held a mind of her own.” Morgause cautioned the other. “Deal with Arthur when we are ready.”

“And when will that be? I am tired of waiting.” Lady Igraine snapped out. “I want to challenge now.”

“I guess I was wrong. You are not the one we seek as a sister.” Morgause turned to the scorpion. “Come, my dear, we will leave now.”

The dark scorpion will not adhere to the witch’s request.

“So, dark one. You have developed an affinity for her. So be it. I won’t press on your services. Do as you will.” With that Morgause took her to leave. Lady Igraine looked to the dark creature. It crawled to her extended right hand and then it pricked the index finger there with its sting. It was not venom that coursed in her body but the dark spell.

“Yes….”