Arthur II Book III Chapter 4

 

4.

 

Lancelot took to ride his horse with the friar walking by him. The other was without a ride but he said he preferred to walk. The knight was dressed in the armor and his sword was on his saddle with the rounded shield.

“It means that my feet on the ground and my head in the clouds. Much like to me above is Hell and below is Heaven.” Friar Tate told the knight. “However, a horse may not be my choice of the ride; I wondered for mine the mule will be fine to ride on.”

“I cannot see nor know where to find the mule for you. If I do, just ride it and not mount it.” Lancelot had to add sarcasm to his tone.

“One man’s meat is another man’s …. drink.” Their ride was not far when he saw the two knights approaching them.

“Aye, I think your French would be more atrocious than your Welsh.” The friar said. The friar then admitted his action.

“Yr arian efallai I mi ei gymryd sy; n dod a nhw yma...” (It’s the silver I may have taken that brings them here) The friar replied.

“What were you thinking of then for you to do such act? And upon the French there and on this land?” Lancelot was shocked.

“Bwydo’r tlodion? Wel, fe wnaethant roi bwyd a lloches imi….” The friar pulled up the innocent face. Their talk was interrupted by the two knights who stopped in front of Lancelot.  

“Halt, friar!” One of the two French knights called out. They looked burly in their armor and wield the spear with the shield.

“As-tu bien dormi, Sire?” Friar Tate looked at them. He was sure the potion of herbs and dead insects powdered and mixed with the mead drank by the French would had kept them asleep for days but maybe he was short in supply then.

“I am Sir Lancelot of Camelot. The friar is …. My squire.”

“Camelot? I hear of it. I am Sir Diedre of the Bern and he is Sir Henri of Burgundy, We … How will you place it? Wanderers in these lands.” Sir Diedre was a tall slim frame with the chest and metal greaves and wields the broadsword on the waist besides the shield and spear. Sir Henri was shorter in height but looked stout beneath his bulging armor and was similarly carrying the same weapons.

“And you have been busy with the last war?” Lancelot saw the bounded gladius secured to the saddles.

“Aye, we fought the Romans, not the locals. We fought with Hengist at Gurnion.” Sir Diedre said.

“Then you have not met the Ghost?” Lancelot asked.

“The one they called the Ghost? No, I have not. He as I was told was a strong knight. Did he fight for Hengist too?”

“No, the Ghost fought against Hengist. The Ghost was an ally of the Romans.” Lancelot replied.

“Mon Ami! Then the Ghost is our adversary. Where can we find him? His death by our hands will add to our reputation.” Sir Diedre said.

“The Ghost is before you. I am the Ghost.” 

“Le loup dans la taniere des moutons…” (The wolf in the sheep’ lair.) Sir Henri called out and leveled his spear at Lancelot.

“Non, ce sont les moutons qui sont entres dans l’antre du loup..” (No, it’s the sheep that stepped into the wolf’ lair.) Lancelot then drew his sword.

‘I was from Normandy and knows my French too.” Lancelot said.

The battle was brief with Sir Henri succumbing to the plunge of Arondight at the neck when Lancelot deflected the spear. He pulled Arondight out and rode past the dying French knight. He turned his horse to face the remaining knight.

“Yield, French knight and I may spare your life,” Lancelot called out.

“La vengeance est a moi...” (Vengeance is mine.) Sir Diedre rushed to the Friar and held the spear at the other throat. “Surrender or he dies.”

Lancelot saw the threat and lowered his sword when the friar grabbed the spear below the iron head and pulled hard. The spear came loose to his hands and he twisted it around. He thrust the spear upwards into the knight’s belly.

“I stab at Heavens to cleanse it of the spawn that this Devil wills sow.” Friar Tate pushed with his arms to plunge the spear in deep.

“You are demon incarnate when you hold the spear, Friar.”

“No more than my hatred for them heathen who plagues the land with greed and wanton.” Friar Tate replied. “I do God’s work in removing them and return their bounty to the people.”

“Rob the rich to feed the poor? A noble thought that one day the forests will whisper to the ones that will fight for the poor.” Lancelot lauded the friar. “May your kind be with them to preach the good words too?”

“Aye, I may not but my followers will do so.”

“And they will slaughter the wolves in the sheep’s clothing.” Lancelot mocked the friar with laughter.

“Aye, with laughter and glee.” The friar laughed then.

Later when all was at peace, and the dead buried with the simple ritual to send them off. Friar Tate had the gladius buried too in a different plot to appease the dead souls. He had each gladius buried separately and then prayers were over the small mounds of soil. He then turned to ride with Lancelot on the borrowed horses with the recovered bounty.

“We will donate those to the poor and the monasteries.”

“Aye and the silver you took from them too. I will not be seen to carry the burden of yours on my conscience.” Lancelot laughed. He then turned to look at the friar.

“Friar, those were French and …Romans. How could you recite the words in Welsh to them? They may not get the last rites …” Lancelot said.

“They are on Welsh lands and ate our food and drank our meads. They bloody well know some Welsh or be damned they will end up in hell.” Friar Tate made his remark.

That ended the conversation of the death between those two but not so for one other knight a far distance away.

“I behold the death of Liam Lucker was not a trivial matter.” Belvedere roared out. “Who dares to inflict death upon my kind?”

Belvedere was back at Gurnion and held his daily discussion with the leaders of the Welsh people there. They have built the once derelict castle into a fair one and the Hall restored to seat about thirty of them with the spread of food and drinks on the long tables. Gurnion have thrived in the last year with its settlement tripled and the men under Belvedere more than he could feed.

“Liam died killed by that man.” Chief Gael of Eoghan voiced out. He had stood up and with his right arm; he motioned to the huge man seated at the rear. Belvedere glared at the other who was dressed in the chest armor beneath the thick furs and the wide waist belt to hold the wider girth. On the belt was the sword that likes its wielder, huge and thick. He also held a short handle hammer in his left hand that resembled Thor’s.

“Aye, I killed the man for he had called me a liar. I am a man of honor and none shall accuse me of miss-deeds.” The huge man stood up with the hammer in his left hand.

“And who are you, Sir?’ Belvedere asked. 

“The name is Kay or Cael. I am also known as Kay the Huge. I am not a knight not of here but of the land.” The knight approached Belvedere. “I am called by some as Sir Kay but in truth, I am a wandering fighter for the rights of others who may be robbed or …. Wrongly accused.”

“Step forth, Kay the Huge. My name is Belvedere.” The leader of the Welsh greeted the other.

“You are huge like me but do you hold my strength?” Kay looked at the other. “We can fight.”

That remarks drew the gathered there to reach for the hilt of their swords but Belvedere laughed.

“We will fight but win strength, we will contest.” Belvedere stepped to meet the other. “Never say that the Welsh warrior will stand down on a challenge.”

“Nay will the Irish,” Kay replied. “How will we fight?”

“The contest of strength with being with our arms on a strength of wrestle,” Belvedere asked that a square table was brought forth. It was a heavy oak cut that required two men to carry. The table was placed between the two and stools were brought.

“The oak tree cut will hold our weight and arms. Belvedere looked at Kay. They sat facing each other and locked their right arms with their elbows on the table while the left hand gripped the table on the side... They sat there with the legs positioned apart to hold their stance. With a heave of his breath, Kay flexed his muscle on the right arm and the battle begins. The arms locked at the wrist with the elbows on the base foundation; both men took shallow breaths while flexing their strengths. Both arms will not relent to the other while their bodies were covered with sweats.

“He is strong.” One of the gathered commented.

“He is Welsh.” Another replied.

“I was talking of the Irish.” The earlier one commented back. “My mother is Irish.”

“Leprechaun...” That was all it took to start the brawl but not between the two giants. Belvedere did move his left hand to his thigh and his right arm fell slightly but he right it again.

“My thigh was itchy.”

“Bollocks! Say it right. You got lice there, Welsh.” Kay laughed and his right arm had moved down but he pushed it up.

“And you are a crafty one, Welsh.”

“Tell me why you killed the man,” Belvedere spoke to the Irish.

“He mocked me on my exploits. I did kill many raiders from the Anglo Saxon to the Picts. And even the wild Welsh who raided the settlements.”

“Raids? I will have them hanged.” Belvedere roared while Kay laughed.

“I did that. They shrieked like witches but their sins were expunged.” Kay continued and both laughed. Their laughter was too much that they fell off their stools. When both giants fell, the brawl among the others stopped.

“Why are you fighting?” Belvedere called out.

“He is Irish.”

“And I am Scots.” Another one called out.

“The heck of it let us feast.”  That was the day Belvedere met Kay and they became good friends.