Arthur; the legend and the myth Chapter 6

6.

The tale of Lancelot went back thirty five years ago when he was a young weakling in the village named Lumbria on the easterly northern hills of the island. He was part of the tribe there pledging their livelihood on the land where they grew their food and fed their slaughters. The Lumbria tribe was not big with the inhabitants standing at a few hundreds. They were also named the Pecht or the name for the ancient people of the land. The tribes stayed together as a clan and any clashes from outsiders will rallied the tribes to join force. When the Romans invaded the island, they claimed even the northern lands under their Emperor.

Lumbria stood in the way of the Romans.

The young weakling knelt down to hold the bleeding on his mother’s chest while the surroundings were in flames and more killings were carried out. He was tossed out of the wooden hut where he had lived with his mother when the attackers came that day. The Man warriors were away in battles leaving only the infirmed and women folks. The women of Lumbria were not weaklings themselves for they were adept in the use of the bow for the hunts. They armed themselves to fight the attackers but there mere numbers were overrun by the larger army. Soon after the battle had been won, his mother was attacked not once but by several then in turns. The young had struggled hard but he was no match for the ones who held him away. His mother had her chance of coup of grace when she stabbed the last attacker in the chest. The later had retaliated with the violent stabbing on her in return before he dragged her dying body outside. The young weakling had tried to save his mother but she was past the point of saving.

It was then the Romans arrived and they had the attackers fleeing from the village. The Centurion then with his strength of three cohorts having routed the attackers then began to administer aid to the villagers. It was unheard of then but the Romans were the saviors then. The young weakling was then seen by the Centurion seated there holding the dead mother. He had taken the young boy into his care and returned to Londonium. He named the boy Lancelot and was to be his son.

It took ten years for the young boy to forget his past and lived life as a Roman. He was sent to the Academy to be with the Legion. His adopted father, Ambrocia took upon himself to train the young lad then with the skills of the sword. He was trained in various weapons including the swinging mallet, and also the long sword.

“Father, why must I use this longer sword? Was it not the Roman’s use the gladius?” Lancelot had asked during training when he was asked to hold the long sword. “You use one always.”

Ambrocia have his own gladius which was crafted at the hilt with the emblem of the soaring eagle. He told anyone who asked him of it that it was his aspiration in the Legion.

“In a battle, the sword you wield may not be yours. It’s good to familiarize with most of it.” His father then had taught him. “The long sword suits you well. It’s in your blood to use it.”

Lancelot learned fast and hard on the use of the long sword although he trained hard on the other weapons. He wield them well but when he soon joined his father’s legion as a Centurion he learned to use more on the gladius. He made his way up the ranks. It was upon his arrival to Rome with his father for his ascension to the Senate that he revisited his past.

“Lancelot? An unusual name for a Roman. More so when he was to be with the Senate.” The Senator had voiced out with contempt when the proposal to promote Lancelot to the Senate position. Senator Ambrocia had taken offence to the remark and left the Senate with his son. At the nearby tavern, the irate father had drowned his sorrows in the fine wine served there. It was Lancelot who raised the issue then.

“Father, I am not of Rome.” The son of the Senator voiced out. “I never was a Roman. I never told you but the years of growing up with the stigma of a bastard have hardened my soul. I cared not for being a Roman anymore. I chose to seek my own mother’s people.”

Lancelot held out the markings that he had etched on the parchment from his memory. It was a near resemblance of a serpent encircling the earth and yet the serpent held four limbs on its body.

“I have this etched on my gladius too. I had seen similar drawings among the Picts. I have led to the slaughter of my own people.” Lancelot confessed then but the ailing Senator had to correct him.

“It was not the Romans who killed your mother. It was the other clans who were at battle then with yours. I came with the Legion to quell the infighting but I was too late to save your mother.”

Lancelot shook his head and then bowed down. The ailing Senator reached for his son’s head to hold it.

“If you are not to be a Roman, then go back to your people. Live with them and prosper.” The ailing Senator advised him. “One cannot lived in two worlds of people and not be of either.”

“Then before you decide, I will tell you of my wish. I am a citizen of Rome. I would like you to remain as one. Your reward from the Legion provides you one and also a piece of land. Take it and live there as a Rome citizen. While you are there, you may seek your own people and be united with them. That way you are at peace with both.”

Lancelot was to reply when they were interrupted by the aide of Senator Theodilus. The other Senator have requested for Ambrocia to hold a discussion alone. Lancelot cautioned his father on the meet but the later had shrugged it off.

“I knew Theodilus for a long time. He was with me in Provicia Britannia. We defeated the tribes then.” The ailing Senator then bit his tongue but Lancelot consoled him.

“I am now your son and ever yours.”

It did not take long before Lancelot was called to the same meet but he was to find his father laid on the flooring there. He saw Theodilus seated there with three of the guards and five servants.

“I did not force him to drink it. He did it out of his own honor.” The seated Senator voiced out. The figure was a tall one still retained the built of his past servings. He was dressed in the loose toga and held the long sash around his neck. Lancelot knelt by his father’s side and weep.

“All that you see before you would testify to that. Your father was a proud man. He refused to surrender his duty in the Senate back to me. I was the one who gave him the honor. I told him if chose to be one with the Senate, he must abide with the laws or die by his own hands. He chose the later of the two choices.”

“Your father drank from that vial.” The seated Senator pointed at the open vial on the table. “He brought it here.”

I recognized the vial that belonged to my father. He once told me that it contained the elixir to ease his pain. He was sick and disliked the idea of writhing in pain prior to a slow death. It was his hidden secret to the others.

“I much prefer the thrust of the blade to my heart than pain but I am a coward to take my own life that way. I will choose my own death with this. It will be instant.”

Lancelot could not fight the other unless he wishes his death to follow his father. He had heard of the treachery among those in the Senate but to challenge them was to die there. He had his father taken care with honor and then he left for the land of his choosing.

“A horrid way to live your final years.” Merlin voiced out before he munched down the corn served on the table. “You could …”

“Silence, you yelp. I will not have you cajoling us with your tales here.” Arthur stopped him.

“Arno of Bedyr, you may speak with arrogance at me today but bear with me the day will come when you will beg for me.” With that Merlin chose to sulk in the corner with his corn. It was Lancelot who then asked the pertinent question.

“Why are you here?”