Arthur II Book III Chapter 21

 

Chronicles of the Knights and Ladies III

 

21.

 

Lancelot sat at the head of the table with his wedded lover, Elaine Marcellus seated next to him. He faced the guests; the invited one like Arthur and Guinevere, the knights and the known friends among the Lords and Chiefs. There were the others; well-wishers and even some he disliked.

“You can forego your lovers, but you rather have your foes in front of you seen and heard. If they are not, then watch your back.” Lancelot had mumbled while his sight was on the two Lords, Ban, and Bors. He disliked them for they rode with Utter Pendragon and was not there when he died. It was not an event that could be dismissed without more thoughts. He saw the others; Romans from his view. Funny he did not consider Arthur as such for he was in a different category in Lancelot’s mind; a …

“Interloper…” Lancelot mumbled again. He drew on his wider smile at that thought.

If Arthur was the interloper, the others must be members of the pack.

“No...” Lancelot shook his head. They hold no intrusion at Guinevere at all. They are just on his land; the one that he fought for half his life since he returned then. He fought them as his father and foster father would have done the same if they were alive.

“My Lord, are you well?” Lancelot looked at his wedded lover. He nodded to her and asked why.

“You were muttering and with the noise here, I can’t make out your words. Shall we retire?” Elaine smiled at him. She looked ravishing in the light blue gown that was loaned to her by Guinevere. It was an off-shoulder design with the netting lace that covered the shoulders to the neckline.

“You go on ahead. I will stay for a while. Soon, I will come.” Lancelot told Elaine. She left him there and his sight was on Guinevere. She was seated at the right side at end of the table with Arthur who had occupied the guest of honor seat there facing Lancelot. The King was however turned to his knight seated at the left side in rousing conversation; bawdy probably and ignoring his Queen. She was downcast to her food on the plate marking them like armies on the battlefield.

Lancelot stared at her earnestly. He had hardly seen her for over four seasons and when he returned, he was expecting to see a child suckling for her milk or cradled in the arms but neither was seen. Since his return, it pained him to lay his eyes on her. She was still as beautiful and yet his dream of her was always replaced by the face of Arthur on Guinevere. He will wake up with disgust.

But at the feast, Lancelot was seeing the real face.

Guinevere felt left out while she sliced the red grape into halves and then quarters. The juice of the fruit spread on the plate from the first drop to the splatter that spread from the fruit towards the bunch.

“How come it’s not red?” Guinevere asked herself. “If it’s red on the cover, it should be read instead. Not milky and sticky.”

Guinevere pushed the sliced grape aside. She looked to her King and saw him loathing with those conversations that she despised. How can they be demeaning to us when we bear and raised their children to the age where they will send the boys to fight as warriors, and the girls to be married to take on the same role?

“Was that not the gown that you wore last before we come here? Or she had one done herself.” Arthur asked Guinevere. “It looked good on her too.”

“I loaned it to her. She was without many good ones.” Guinevere replied to Arthur. “I am tired and would like to rest.”

“Guinevere, you may retire earlier. I will join you shortly.” Guinevere heard her King. She stood up and left the Hall. Lancelot saw her leave and was then interrupted by the Friar.

“My dear newly wedded knight, I would suggest you leave for your chamber. Your body betrayed you and even the ladies noticed.” Friar Tate whispered into the ears. Lancelot felt the urge in him and its signs were attracting the bees to the flowers. He excused himself and walked from the table, with his body leaned forward to hide his embarrassment. He reached the chamber and went in. He saw Elaine seated there on the bedding still in her gown waiting for him.

“My Lord, you are here. I will get prepared...” Elaine stood up. Lancelot reached her and held her arms.

“Let me.” Lancelot held her to his chest. He smelled her hair and moved down. His lips touched the veiled netting. He smelled not of Elaine but Guinevere. It was Guinevere’s gown.

“My Lord, it’s not mine.” Elaine’s words were lost to him as he shredded the nettings and drew his lips to her bosom. He was relentless in his needs and had no care for her needs. He kept on saying; “you are mine. Mine always.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Elaine replied. “Yes, I am yours.”

It was the same with Guinevere when she felt Arthur rolled off her body. She laid there with her gown drawn to her bosom, heaving in deep breaths that the act was over.

“Thank you,” Arthur mumbled towards her.

“Yes, my Lord,” Guinevere replied in whispers. “It’s yours, my Lord.”

Down the corridors to the stables, another one screamed out in lust.

“Oh, Lord…” The Friar rolled over and then lay back on his back with his groin facing the familiar mares that had given adequate space among the hays.

“Did you say which convent you were from?”

“The Convent of the Ladies.” The lady replied lying on the hay.

“I must thank your Mother Superior. She kept you well intact.” The Friar then looked at her. “Dawn is still away. Shall we try one more time while it's dark?”

Amorous feelings were in the air that night but not all of them had the same need for release.

Lamorak got out of the bedding and stood at the window of the chamber at the tavern. He felt the arm that snaked from the rear to his chest.

“I am feeling cold,” Molly told him.

“I …” Lamorak wanted to reply but held his tongue.

“Did you see Galahad?” Molly read his mind.

“Yes, I did. He was with Gaheris but they sat at a different table. He won’t look at me.”

“Was Gawain there?”

“No, he was the missing one with Percival too,” Lamorak said. “I wonder where they are.”

“Perhaps on some quest of their own. Gawain has to grow out of his brother’s shadow, and maybe…”

“Percival has gone off to look for new adventures. I wished I could but I am obliged to serve here at Camelot.”

“You are no more the Optio and there is no Legio. You can ask to leave. I will follow you on your travels. I have coins…”

“And I will never live off your coins. I will stay.” Lamorak replied. “Have you seen Galahad?”

“No, I have not. I am not his lover and nor he of mine.” Molly said. “I have you now, lover.”

Those words rang empty then in Lamorak’s mind.

That was not the same thoughts of Gawain when he stood at the port by the sea. He felt sad for his journey was at a crossroad then. He had joined the Bishop on his travel in Britannica and the time had come for His Excellency to return to Rome.

“Son, I have to return to Rome. I may be the next Pope there.” The Bishop told him. “During our time, I have learned to like you. You are sincere and above all, loyal to your principles.’

Gawain had learned all about confession and has confessed his sins to the Bishop. The latter has given him good advice and told him to ward off the evil thoughts.

“We are faced with evil daily from the physical action to mental projection. It’s God’s will to test our resolve on the matters at this realm. I do sometimes wish we have it …. Easier but that will be circumventing the challenges offered by God for us to better ourselves.”

“Your Excellency, I have nothing to concern myself with except to fulfill my vows to God.” Gawain had converted in his faith. “I have no fear of the future but to serve my present.”

“That is your plight now. Do you follow me and go to Rome or stayed here to seek your destiny?” The Bishop looked at Gawain. “It’s a decision no doubt you need not make it in haste. You may join me later when you are better prepared.”

Gawain nodded to the Bishop. He was unsure of his decision. In that moment of self-questioning, the Bishop raised another matter.

“Son, have you heard of the Grail?” The Bishop looked at Gawain.

“Not more than what you told me, Your Excellency...” Gawain smiled.

“My memories have declined in the years.” The Bishop sighed. “Even the pious may lose his buildup with age. Maybe….”

“You will be fine, Your Excellence and better if you are Pope.” Gawain reinforced the other with his words.

“Flowery persuasion is not the work of someone whom I had said was innocent.”

“I meant no empty words to my meaning, Your Excellency. The Emperor needs your advice as I have.”

“The Pope rank is one of my choosing but that of the Church. If I am ordained to be the Pope, I will remember you who lend me your ears and protection on this journey.”

“And I accept your good advice to release me of my sins.” Gawain smiled and then he referred to the subject brought up by the Bishop.

“What of the Grail that you wanted to tell me?”

“Only a person whose soul is free of sins shall see it. Release your soul to God and he will guide you.” Those were the words of the Bishop before he took to board the ship that will take him across the channel.