Lancelot Part 11

In whom we may serve.

"Welcome to the Royal Joust." King Arthur remembered he said those words to the assembled knights who had come here to test their wits and skills to win a place at his round table. That was this morning and now at this late hour, he finds one contender standing before him. The knight is dressed in black and has just won his joust against one of the last surviving knights in the contest. The he faced the King himself in the last joust.

Both the knights took to their places and they rode hard at each other. Their lances clashed against their shields but none was broken or toppled over. They rode to the end line and turn their mounts. They took the second ride and this time only Lancelot lance hit the King's shield, but he managed to hold onto his saddle.

It was the final third round, and the crowd watching was silent. Each knight adjust their sitting and then they rode down the line to fight. At the last moment, Lancelot heard a voice in his head that say to look left to the stands. He did as he was told and he saw a glimpse of a lady. It was also then the King took his lance on Lancelot's chest and toppled him over. The crowd cheered hard on the victory of their King while the Lancelot in his black armor slowly got to his feet helped by Bran to re-mount his horse.

"Come forth, Black Knight." Arthur called on the knight to step forth. "You have fought well and I am honored to offer you a place at my round table."

"My name is King Arthur of Camelot." Arthur spoke of his name loud for all to hear. "Please tell me yours so that we can properly addressed you in our talks."

The Black Knight removed his head cover and then he announced his real name.

"My name is Lancelot Du Lac, and this is my disguise to find me more foes to improve on my skills." Lancelot told everyone who was present. Immediately the whispers went out among the knights that they have lost to the knight by many to be the greatest and if not the best even compared to Arthur himself.

"Lancelot? Is that you behind the mask?" Arthur exclaimed in joy knowing that now he has now ensnared the best of the best into his side. "The moment I have been waiting for has finally arrived."

Arthur stepped off the podium to greet the knight he has been hearing of but never met till today. He could feel the resentment of some of the knights to have this Lancelot accorded so much honor and this may unbecoming of his King' position but he cares not for their thoughts. Lancelot is a proven ally to have at his side and he is glad the knight has made that choice. He was always looking to his back if Lancelot would join his enemies which would make his work more tedious.

Lancelot on seeing the King coming to greet him, immediately dismount and went on his knees. He bowed his head to the King of this land.

"My King." Lancelot greet Arthur who stepped in front of him.

"My good knight, Lancelot. I welcome you to Camelot." Arthur reached for the shoulders of Lancelot and pulled him up. "None of my knights need to bowed before me. We are all equal on the round table and your seat awaits you, Sir Lancelot."

On the mentioned of the name Sir Lancelot, the crowd around the galley all roared to life. In approval of the appointment of the new Knight. Arthur was beaming with pride that he called on his Queen to come forth to see the new knight.

"Come, Queen Guinevere. Meet Sir Lancelot."

The lady who stepped out from behind the King was ever deserving to be a Queen with her beauty and manners. She is about the height of the King and wore a flowing green gown that has emeralds sewn into it with design of a sprouting garden with red and yellow emeralds to denote the blooms in the garden. The Queen is tousled up in a soft curls that reached to her waist yet the tiara that sits on it enhanced the blonde shades with its golden gleam. The tiara comes with matching of seven colors stones that were nicely crafted in at the front. Lancelot was sure she looked like the lady he glimpsed just now.

"Guinevere, Sir Lancelot." Lancelot went down on his knees again and reached for the Queen's extended hand to lay his lips on her index finger. He then looked up at her and was caught up by her beauty in his eyes. She has beautiful green eyes which the gown have enhanced the beauty of it, to a set of full lips that Lancelot wished he could actually touched with his.

"Sir Lancelot, I bid you welcome to Camelot." The Queen has spoken and her voice is low and yet sweet to be heard by the person.

"Thank you, my Queen. Its my pleasure to be here, and to serve you." Lancelot did not why he said the last words but it came out naturally.

"So it shall be, Sir Lancelot." The Queen replied to him.

"Come my Queen. The day is getting dark and we must be back in our Hall for the grand feast." Arthur interrupt the Queen and Lancelot on their conversation. "All are welcome to join us tonight. Sir Lancelot shall be my honored guest tonight."

The feast lavish and the spread an unending flow of food and drinks for the hundred over knights who chose to serve their King. More so the main table was the round table where thirteen knights sat and rejoice as equal; King and knights. Lancelot sat next to the King who never cease to cheered him on almost every round of drinks.

"My King, there is none more to cheered on me. But I must do one for my brothers who sits here with me. To all of us here in his Main Hall. I hailed to you; the glorious days would come more and the victories all the more sweeter,"

The Hall roared to a new resounding level that even the servants at the cooking area were also cheering at the new merriment.

It was then Lancelot turned his body to faced the Queen sitting at the back of the Hall. He raised his goblet to hers' and smiled. She smiled back and he was enthralled by her.

"Sir Lancelot, if I may." Lancelot looked across to the one who called on him. "I am named Merlin and I would to toast to you. Never a finer knight and may he served the King loyally."

"He shall!" The Hall roared to the toast while Merlin took his drink to his own seat a table distance from the Queen on the right of her's. Merlin could not resist glancing at his Queen too whom he noticed is staring at the new knight. Merlin sat down with a heavy thought that is on his mind. He hopes that what he had seen would not materialize into an event, or this kingdom would collapse.

Merlin then recalled his own personal tragedy; his love unrequited from a lady he met at this Hall. She sits across the Hall in a silvery blue gown with a matching head dress that shines with the sapphire blue stones. She is not exactly what you termed as a beauty but she is enticing to one if you had spend time with her. She is Utter Pendragon child next to Arthur although they shared a different mother. She is like her father; articulate and cunning in the ways of the man and the land. She knows how to carry herself in any situation thus winning the heart of the cold merciless sorcerer. Merlin was one who swore off vixens and whores as he may termed some, that have laid before his eyes, but not Morgana. Yes, that is her name and she had vexed even the sorcerer with her charm. He would had not been so cautious of her if she had not shown her aims to overthrow her half brother from the throne for herself. That is the King that Merlin have sworn to protect at all cost including his own love for Morgana.

"Hello, Merlin." He looked up to see the very subject of his thoughts standing before him now. "Surely, the protection of the King does not need to cover even his Queen interest."

"Pardon me, Lady Morgana." Merlin pretend to feign ignorance of her veiled meaning. "I am sure the Queen's interest in the King are their personal affairs and even myself cannot be involved."

"True and most clear in the words, that when its comes to love, one must never intervene in its development or even downfall." Lady Morgan stressed on that last word and then she leaned down to whispered into Merlin's ear. "I missed you on my bedding."

Merlin blushed in his face on hearing of her direct statement. Surely this woman must have some dignity in her. How can she whispered such words here when we are within eavesdrop of many although we may be whispering.

"Your colors suits you, Merlin." Morgana winked at him, as recalled she wore a pinkish night dress on their first rendezvous. He also said to her these words; 'like the pink petals on the flowers, I shall peel you off in layers."

Merlin excused himself saying that the King needs his counseling now. Its true that Arthur did signaled him but it was not for counseling, but to assisted to the personal chamber. Once they were in the private chamber of the King, Arthur sank down on the high back seat and remarked to his adviser.

"Tell me, Merlin." Arthur asked as he struggled with his drunken mind on the things he wants to ask. "Can I best Lancelot in battle?"

"You are the best among the very best. Of course, you....." But Merlin was shut off midway by the calling of Arthur.

"Merlin, you are my counsel and answer me as the truth shall come from you on this mere stranger." Arthur command him.

"I don't really know, my King. There is no denial that Lancelot is the best of the best, but he has never fought you before. If he does, it may be an even fight." Merlin told the King.

"Don't patronize me. I am your King." Arthur shouts out again. It was his shout that brought in the Queen from her own chamber.

"My Lord, why are you shouting? Are you drunk?" Queen Guinevere spoke out of concern as she walked to her Lord.  They are newly wed but they still occupied separate chambers.

Merlin on seeing the timely arrival of the Queen excused himself to leave the chamber. Arthur on seeing the sorcerer leaving tried to stop him but the Queen had stood to block his view. He reached up to push her away but in his drunken condition, he ended only swaying his body instead.

"My Lord, you are unwell. Let me put you to your bedding." Queen Guinevere reached to hold up her Lord but he was too heavy for her. He threw up on his earlier meal onto the front of her gown. She reacted by stepping back and seeing her new gown all covered with the vomit of Arthur. She was upset and yet she felt disgusted with his behaviour.

"I am sorry, Morgana.....No, I meant Guinevere." Arthur corrected himself as he sank back in the seat. Guinevere on seeing at his sorry state got up to leave but Arthur stopped her with his command.

"You are not to leave this chamber until I have expressly said you could." Arthur stammered out his words. "My tunic! Its reeks of vomit."

Arthur took the hem of his tunic and tore it off his body. He has a fine body; taut with muscles and broad at the shoulder. He saw that his leggings are also soiled so he tore at them too. He stood there in his naked glory and marveled at himself in the polished metal piece that reflect his image. He pride himself of keeping fit and he has the tool to prove he is not of any man, but a Man. He then saw Guinevere standing there looking at him.

She seen his look before and she knows she is trapped here in this chamber. She wished she had not come and let the evil one takes his life away then, but she acted out of care and concern. After all, he is her Lord, and she is to obey and cherished. Arthur walked towards her and reached with his hand for the front of her gown. He pulled hard at it and tore off the green gown off her body. He then grabbed her by her breasts with both his hands and pulled her to him. He laid his lips on her; forcing his tongue into her mouth. He kissed her hard as he forces his left leg in between her legs. He rubbed himself raw against her flesh while his hands are kneading at her breasts.

He then pulled away and pulled her towards the bedding but not onto it but over it with her back towards him. He stood behind her and pushed her back forward so he can raise her for his thrust. He laid it in her and he grunt like a hog at the pens. He mauled at her back with his nails and then grabbed hold of her hips to released his seedling into her. He then pulled out and fell on the bedding next to her. He did not noticed her teary eyes, nor did he care of her unsatiated lust.

"I am still the best.. And maybe my son would be too." He muttered to himself as he falls to sleep.

Guinevere stood up her body and walked over to her torn gown. She picked it up and then threw it in into the fireplace. She then walked to the door and out of the chamber back to her's. She cares not who may had seen her as she cares not for her modesty anymore. Or anything that would matter at all.

Or so she thought, but she did not see two shadows who saw her walked by in her naked body. One was Lancelot who was drunk and making his way to his chamber when he got lost in the corridors. He stood in the corner which he had just came by, and saw the Queen walking to her chamber. He may be drunk, but his sights are still good and clear. He could see the beauty of the Queen that many had a chance to see, but he also noticed that she looked upset. He looked to the door which she had come from and he went over to peek in. Its the King chamber and that frighten him to sober up fast and fled himself down the stairs to the Hall.

There was another who saw both him and the Queen; she was Morgana and she is smiling. She walked to her half brother's chamber and walked in. There he is lying there with all the glory of his body showing. She looked at him and then she turned back to walked out. She close the King's chamber door., and walked to her own chamber. She opened the door and walked in.

She saw him on her bedding and she smiled.

"It looks like you also missed my bedding." Morgana spoke to him as she pulled the shoulder strap off her gown. "Is that your wand or am I imagining things? Surely with that length, you could spank me with it."

Merlin did not have to call on any of his spells as there would be none to prevent him from committing to this tragedy.

Bran was shown his sleeping quarters and its among the others in rows of straw beddings. He was shown a place in the middle and he laid his personal belongings at the foot of the bedding. He noticed the others are coming and some of them drunk from the wines. They all went to their assigned bedding and removed their tunic leaving on their leggings on before they climbed on the bedding. Bran on noticing that also did the same, and he soon lay down on his side. He looked across him and saw the other person that grinning at him. He remembered he was Sir Percival' squire but he could not remembered the name.

He tried to search his hazy memory for a name when he felt a body was sitting astride him on his shoulder. Another one also came and sat on his knees. He tried to shout but a cloth was stuffed into his mouth and he left his body moved to the front side down. He felt the one sitting on his shoulder move to firmly pinned him down while the one on the knees have gotten up but now pulling at his left leg. His right leg was pulled too by someone but he knows not who.

Then he heard the tearing of his leggings to his knees and extra cloth was placed on his groin to raised him up. He fought hard when he felt fingers at his buttocks dabbing in some oily stuff. But nothing was compared to what was thrusted into him. He screamed out loud but no sound came of his mouth. His eyes were crying as the humping on top of his body began. He lost count of who and what but he knew he felt very ashamed at himself. It was not that act was degrading but he actually enjoyed the punishment.

Just before he slept, someone whispered into his ears.

"That is for your Sire who thinks he is the best. Every time he wins over ours, you would be made to suffer."

Bran slept that night although he was sore, he was glad he had found a way to serve his own needs.

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. 

Lancelot Part 8

Reinforcing the Belief and the Unbelief.

Both Lancelot and Bran watched him ride off, and then they took to their own. They did not mentioned of their own experiences but soon it was Lancelot who broke the silence.

"Bran, am I getting too confident in myself now? I have won all my battles so far. But it be my downfall, I may not have any foes to faced me. They may shy from me, as I have seen in the last season." Lancelot lament on his recent lack of jousts.

Bran did not answer him as his mind was on his own. He remembered running blind in the tunnels with each tunnel leading to more possibility of reaching Lancelot. I been searching for hours and yet I could not find the correct tunnel which may lead to him. I sat down in exhaustion and breathe in deeply, as I scour the darkened walls for an answer. I placed my palm on the ground, pressed hard on it. I am not only sweating in exertion but also of fear that I may had failed my sire and friend. My fingers dragged into the ground and dragged out handful of those soil.

"Its a sad thing, isn't it?" The voice spoke to him but he can't see the face as his vision was blocked by a cloth material. He tried to remove the bindings but his limbs are secured by something and yet he felt no restraint.

"Let me go. My sire would hunt you if you don't." I shouted out many times, but I got was more intimidation into my personal thoughts. The person knows of my past and more than even I could remembered. The voice reminded me of my pursuit of security; my need to always having someone with me in my moment of needs. Not like when I was growing up, with my mother whoring her body for security and food but I knew she did it for her lust. She cares not who she sleep with as long as she felt the lust in her. She used to run to me when she is not satiated and slept holding me using me as the buffer for her need feels.

I cried many a times alone and sometimes, she seen me with it. She told me, that I am blessed to be born a man, as I may not had to endure what she had to. But was she wrong, when I was used like her by the vile officer who needs are more than her. She did not protect me like my Sire. She knew and yet she partake as a voyeur to those acts. She may had soothe me with the poultice but never have I said this before, she also released my builtin lust then.

I fucking enjoyed the act that was done on me by the officer. 

Only she knew, and only she was the one I told. But now, another knew.

But Lancelot must never know. He may think I am imperfect to his squire if he ever knew. I used to run from him when the need arise, when the times he thought I was bedding hoping, but in actual fact, I was bended by others for their needs. Yes, I was indulging at my vile action.

That was my other self, running from the only man I love, and affected by his strength and courage. I may be at his side most times, fight with his battles, defend his honor like with the brigands, but no one must make him know of it. He won't be able to accept me.

He may not stand by me if he ever knew. He must never know.

"No! How can you know?" Bran remembered crying out. "Only myself knew those thoughts. I kept them to myself."

"That is why you keep on running alone in the dark. You avoid your true self which was unleased when you were young. Are you ready to face your true self, Bran? Are you as brave as your Sire? Or are you a coward who hides behind the brave knight? You enjoyed those battles; to see him win over the opponents. You feel their pain as that was inflicted on you. You love it and that is why you could not leave him."

"No, I love him....." Bran cried out.

"And he loves you, but not in the way you wanted." The voice reminded him and that broke his resistance. Bran cried inside his mask and he cried so long until he had no more tears to flow. Then he heard the sound of his love. He opened his eyes, and saw the tunnel exit.

"No, sire. Your foes are not good enough for you." Bran assured his companion. "You have not met your best yet."

"Bran, you are like love. Always telling me the best has yet to come, when I have bested many for you." Lancelot laughed at his companion. He then smiled at Bran and rode ahead of his companion. He did not hear the words mentioned by that companion.

"You would never to know. I love you, Lancelot."

"You are crafty, sire." Bran admired the new armor that his Sire had commissioned to some craftsman. The armor mirrored his own given by Smithy but this one is darkened to malt black that absorb the light into it. "You would not be recognised by many in this suit. How deceiving..."

"Yes, Lancelot the White shall not exist for a while. In his stead would be a new knight not heard of before; the new entrant into this world of knights, the Black Knight."

"Why the new identity? Is it not that Black an opposite of your current image? Are you telling me that you are surfacing the darker side of you?"

"Yes, you can say that. I am surfacing my other self." Lancelot smiled at Bran. "Are you ready, my squire?"

"I think I am, but allowed me some time to build up my alternate image." Bran ran off in search of his own identity. That was also the time Bran laughed at his experience in the tunnels. "I need that new mask to hide my true self."

"The Black Knight, Sir; that is my name." The Black Knight offered his hand to pull up the defeated knight who just lost a round of jousting with him. The defeated knight accepted his loss and then he remarked to the other.

"You have not battle the best of us yet. He is Lancelot and he would redeem our honor for us."

"Lancelot? A name I heard many times, but never seen the shadow of that knight. He must be quivering inside his armor knowing that I am here. Such sad event for your land when your champion is only good for the inexperienced battles."

"Insult not Sir Lancelot, Black Knight." The other knight defended the honor of Lancelot. "Lancelot is without doubt the champion among us, although he has not been seen for over a season. But he would be back on his own land and defeat you."

"Brave words, Sir," The Black Knight watched the defeated knight limped away. The Black Knight walked back to his companion and squire, who look smart in his new dark tunic. The Black Knight threw his lance on the ground and took off his gloves.

"I ail at battling my own reputation. Why can't there be one that can offered me more than a fight here?" The Black Knight removed his head cover to shake the mane of hair that he had grew since last season.

"Patience, my Sire. The alter ego of yours have produced you challengers unlike your hidden one. We have gained much in gold and also in name as Black Knight."

"Aye, we have." Lancelot smiled as the gifts of their battles have kept them indoor at the fire places and also hearty meals. As in his new role, he demands not only the pleasure of a good battle but payments for his effort. It has become a game of winning that he knew he can control the odds.

That evening, they retired to a nearby tavern for their rest. Upon a hearty meal, Lancelot called himself to retire early for his rest. He was in his room when he removed his tunic and stood over the pail of water. He splashed on the water to his aching body and felt the relief of the cold water on it. His battles are won but his body had not been won yet on the aches. He has more pains in the body that he can actually touch to feel himself. But there is one pain he cannot find relief of; that of his manhood. Since Bernice, he had been reluctant to bed another.

Is it his virtue; h asked many times when moments like this arise. He smiled as he remembers the words of his Guardian, Lady Vivian. There is no lust more rewarding than that of when its comes with love. There paired together would explode in unison and bring on unexplainable pleasure. Lady Vivian would not tell him more when he queried her more. Till this day, he had kept his lust in place for the woman he would love, and only to her, would he released all his lust.

Lancelot laughed at himself as he removed his wet leggings. He was in the act of pulling it off when the door was opened, causing him to trip on his feet. He fell face down on the flooring and howled out in pain. His head may not hurt as much as his lower groin who took on the thrust onto a harden surface. Lancelot reached for his painful part and tried to ease the throbbing pain while his eyes are still closed. He felt a set of hands have held him up and laid him on the bedding. The same person who helped him assisted in removing his leggings and pulled his body over the cover.

The set of hands then reached for his body to soothe down his pains. He felt nice on the soothing hands which was not soft but firm in the touch. The body moved over his aches and then paused at his thigh. It reached to remove his hand over his groin and laid the hand to the side. Immediately, Lancelot felt the same soothing hands on his manhood which had shriveled on the last thrust, but now responding to a more soothing touch.

"Ah, thank you...." Lancelot mumbled out, as he reached for his groin again but he finds his hand now held down by a heavier weight. He opened his eyes to see who was holding him down, and he was surprised.

"Bran?" Lancelot on seeing his squire leaning over him and soothing his groin' immediately sat up.

"Sire, I came in and saw you lying down in pain. I rubbed your pains to ease you." Bran raised himself upright. Then he looked sheepishly to the wet leggings. "I would take that away and get you new pair."

Bran took leave of the room while Lancelot covered himself with the bed cover. He thought hard and find himself responding to the event that unfold just now. He felt alarmed that he would feel such feelings as its not himself to do so. He been with Bran for so long; they been since childhood, and shared many a times a bath together, and even appeared naked with each other. But never had he felt any arousal for his companion, as there was none to feel then or thought of. But just now, he could had sworn he liked the feeling to be held by Bran.

Lancelot jumped out of the bedding and walked to the nearest wall. He knocked his head against the wall to beat out the thoughts of it. Its not him, he keep on repeating to himself.

I would prove it myself. I am a real man.

He grabbed the tunic and went over to opened the door. He called on the owner and told him what was wanted. He placed some coins on the sweaty hand of the owner before he closed the door again. He did not need to wait long when he knock came. He opened it to admit in a young woman who was about his age. She was dressed in simple frock over and she walked in with confidence. She did not look like Bernice but she is a still a woman. He looked at her from her head to her toes and she is more rounded in some areas.

The woman did not hesitate as she pulled at her frock over the head to reveal her naked body to him. She then walked over to the bedding to lay on top. Lancelot pulled at his tunic and walked up to her. He looked down once again to her and tries to imagine the image of Bernice. He did not had to as the woman raised her right leg to touch on his manhood. She moved her toes along the length of his manhood and then she pulled back her leg to spread our hers' for him to see. He stared at it, as she reached down with her fingers to part the lips for him. She dipped in her fingers and drew them out moist on contact.

Lancelot looked up to her face who smiled at him. That was his turnoff then, but he has a task to performed. A task that he had commanded himself. He took up his nearby tunic to placed over the woman' eyes and then he climbed on top of her. He placed his manhood inside her and he humped like when sitting on his saddle. She moaned and called up every name she can think of behind the tunic cloth.

Lancelot could not find himself to be satiated so he got off her to rolled aside. She moan on the release of the weight on her body and glanced over. She can still see he is upright and wet with her desires that came pouring out. He is unlike others who just spent their own and ignore her needs. She felt too many the tremors that triggered over her body and now she felt so relaxed but coins have been given to clear the man's lust. She remembered the act that she was asked to do on the man from afar.

So the woman sat up and leaned over the manhood; enveloping it in her mouth. She suckle at it like she would on a ladle coated with honey. His reaction was expected as his hands went down to her head initially trying to pry her away but later moving her head to the rhythm that he feels most comfortable. His fingers rummaged into her hair and pulled away at the roots.

Then he came with a flood of it into her throat and she had to keep on swallowing or she would had suffocated.

She got up from her task, and saw the man had lain back asleep. She stood up and then retrieved her frock, but before she was to leave, she felt the urge to kissed him. Then she recalled that he had placed the tunic over her eyes just now, she sighed.

"Sleep well, sire. She would too if she was here." The woman slipped out of the room. Unknown to both of them, there was one other who was peeking in from the window sill. It was Bran who stood there as he viewed the whole incident. He turned away in pain as he felt that his sire does not desire him just as he desired the man. He walked back to his own room and saw the young lad sitting by the bedding. Bran closed the door and walked up to the lad. He place the coins into the lad's hand, and raised his legging.

"He shall be accorded the same." Bran reached for the lad's head.

Lancelot looked up from the bedding when the woman had left. He turned over in disgust at his action. He could not helped it as the image of Bernice keep on appearing on his mind. He damned if he could ever forget her. He was sure that he had seen Bran looking in at the window. But he could be sure now, now that the person is not there anymore.

Both Lancelot and Bran took to their journey at dawn and both men have not spoken yet. It was near noon, when Bran spoke up.

"We have some food and wine in the saddle pouch" Bran reached for it. "We can rest at that stream."

"Bran, are you still thinking about last night?" Lancelot asked of his companion when they had cleared their hunger.

"Yes, Sire...... I meant no. I am okay with whatever happened then." Bran explained himself. "I am your squire and its my responsibility to take care of you. I meant no other intentions."

"Bran, I called for a woman last night.... And I..." Bran stopped Lancelot from speaking.

"Sire, you did no wrong. Its only natural a man takes a woman. Or ..." Bran broke off in his words. He was staring at the stream as it flows smoothly. He asked himself what would happened if the stream flows both ways.

"Or what, Bran?" Lancelot probed in his words. He wants to hear what Bran wanted to speak.

"Nothing, my Sire. I was just muttering to myself." Bran explained himself. "Where do we ventured from here?"

"As where the winds may blow; I don't know. Why do you asked? You did never did before." Lancelot queried his companion but Bran did not answer him back.