Arthur; The Legend and Myth Chapter 9

9.

The journey to the west then was a hasty one with the unfortunate stragglers picked off by the Picts. The six of them rode hard on their mounts into the night and then dawn. They escaped into the blind sight from the river. They rode hard into the river with the water level low. The horses responded well with the hoofs hitting over the river pebbles and then they climbed onto the sandy side before the horses lurched towards the tree lines. It was not all clear during the ride with some Picts standing sentries there. The enemies were not expecting them but they were armed with lances. They were cut down by the riders and then they rode on. No one turned to look at the fort but they knew that others were on the same trail.

They rode into the tree lines; evading the branches and deep culverts that they could not see until they reached the edge. It was a long ride and after breaching three clumps of trees, they came to the village at the edge of the woodlands. It was a small village with a high wall fence which was unusual. The fence looked new and there were sentries on the wall. It could be the threat of the Picts returning to their land since the news of the Romans are withdrawing from Provincia Britannia. The six riders crossed the stream that demarked the boundary to the main gate on the fence. They rode towards it and were hailed by the sentries before they cross the bridge there.

“Stop there! You are not wanted.” The voice from the fence wall stopped them. “Ride on.”

“We are Legionnaires. We are tired. We need….” Arthur called out but he was cut off. The arrow landed close to his horse on the bridge. It was embedded in deep.

“That is only a warning. Leave now or prepare to die.” The sentry threw out the caution once more. Lamorak rode to be alongside Arthur and then he called out to the sentry.

“Gawain, is that you? I am Lamorak. You will vouch for me or I will tell the whole Legionnaires of your …”

“Clam it, Lamorak.” The voice on the walls called out. “I will grant you passage.”

There was silence and then the gates opened. The six weary riders trod in and were soon refreshing themselves at the tavern. It was the only available tavern there but it held some great food. The place was decorated with the long tables and stools with the lamb stews and the assorted bread served. Lamorak then seated was dressed in a plain tunic with the belt slung low on the waistline.

“This is life.” Lamorak bit into the chunk of ‘cawl’; the traditional Welsh stew of lamb with cheese and leek. As one placed it; it was posh chees on toast’. “Pass me the fermented grapes.”

“Are you that daft, you lumbering loaf?” The one who challenged him was a slim figure dressed in the leather cover over his wool but the imposing twin sword on his waist belt spoke of his other feature. He was taller than most and he was backed by two others. “I have not said you can eat. The walls are a long walk and you can’t even wait.”

“Back off, Gawain.” The one to the right behind the man spoke up. “He is haliwr (Wanker in plain English).

“Dos I chwarae efo dy nain, Gaheris.” (With polite intervention, I won’t translate that.) Lamorak replied before he took the gulp down his throat. “I am here because the camp was attacked last night. They overrun the place with us running with our tails between our legs.”

“And you reckon we can fight them when we have our own problem.” Gawain glared at Lamorak. “I will ask you once more. Are you here to help us?”

“Aye, I heard of your issue. I thought they only come at night on those nights.” Lamorak replied. He then looked at Arthur who was then enjoying his respite in the fighting. “Gawain here is protecting his village from these wolf predators but their wolves were not of the forest ones but of the mystic ones. He asked me a few times but I did not come. I guess they must have changed the cook for the stew is better this time around.”

“Damn you to Hades.” Gawain cursed at Lamorak.

“Oh, yeah! I know my way to Hades.” Lamorak had his bite into the cheese then. He then looked over at Arthur. “They have been telling me for weeks but I have not the command to do it. I was in the frigging Legionnaires. We followed orders.”

“I got your reply then.” Gawain turned his back. “Leave us when you have rested.”

When Gawain moved away, the one on left held up Gawain. He was the shortest of the trio and held the charmed disposition that a lady will be swept off her feet. Like all others, he was armed with the double swords. His name later spoken was Galahad.

“Gawain, hold up. We do need more help in our fight.” The third one pulled harder. “Gawain, be reasonable.”

It was not Lamorak who spoke but Arthur. The leader of the ex-Legionnaires pushed the finished plate aside before he spoke.

“We are fed and rest we will soon. For that, I can offer our help in return for it. After all, tonight the moon will be at its fullest.” Arthur looked to the back of Gawain. “We are ex-Legionnaires but we still have our …”

Arthur paused. He wondered why he spoke up for whatever he was telling made no sense. Maybe it was the food and drink. Lancelot cut in with the finishing words.

“Arthur here is the descendant of Bedyr. He held a vision to be King.” Lancelot’s words were taken with a spread of slaughter by the trio but Lancelot was pressed on. “You may have heard of the legend of the new King that will unite the people.”

“The real people of Wales.” Lancelot stressed on that line. “He seeks the sword.”

“Excalibur? You are all fools to think that the legend was ever true.” Gawain had turned to look at Arthur. “We may be desperate but we are not drawn to the unreal tales. So get out.”

With that Gawain continued on his walk to leave the tavern. It was silence then before Merlin burst into laughter. Everyone looked at the so named druid and then he explained it.

“I am too tired to ride so I guessed rest will be needed. Maybe I may need to rest till dawn and we might be safer here.” Merlin then smiled but the one who started the quest stood on his unhealed leg.

“We have to save my village. You do recall that?” The man looked at Merlin. “We have an …”

“Hush it.” Merlin snapped in. “We will rest tonight or die before you even reached your village.”

That ended the discussion and the weary ones retired to their rest areas except for Lamorak who went looking for a weapon. He fancied a battle axe then. Their next meet was at supper and everyone was dressed to kill except the wounded man and Merlin. The later have resorted to carry the wooden stake on his waist belt.

“Kind of melodramatic here.” Lancelot spoke out when he looked at the group at the table. “We are going to fight the new wolves and here we are tucking into lambs. Ironic isn’t it? Wolves hunt the lambs and we will smell like one now. I am sure that will draw them to us.”

The voice of Gawain told them of the hour for them to man the fence. The assembled there was not only the group but another group of twelve. All of them filed out and were given a long lance of over eight feet with a sharp edge. Only Lamorak rejected the lance and brandished his newly acquired battle axe. He held two with the short handle.

“My very own Mary and Jane. They are bitches to the core.”