Arthur II Book II Chapter 21

 

21.

 

“Arthur is here.” The words spread among the gathered a distance from Mount Badon. Arthur then as he was named rode in the front of his army; the four hundred strong Legionnaires, with the new army of the Welsh warriors under Belvedere of almost two hundred strong, and the recruited Sarmatians with other mercenaries of a hundred under Aubin.

“Aye, he will lead us to battle.” The local warrior relayed the words to the others. They were a part of the two hundred strong local warriors led by Lancelot.

They were eight hundred strong but more were to join. Lord Ban and Bors were riding in at the rear with eighty warriors on horses; knights they were called.

“We will fight with you, Arthur.” The Lords declared their alliance to Arthur. “We are eighty strong but another army of two hundred joined us from the Elders.”

“Alas, I hold an army of nearly a thousand more but we are still outnumbered by two to one. The Anglo Saxons have rallied to their bastion. I was told that they held about two thousand or more of them led by Cedric the Big and our arch-nemesis Hengist Alger.”

“What about the Ninth Cohort?” Lamorak asked.

“They are the Legion assigned legionaries to the guard the wall and the Roman’s there,” Arthur told Lamorak. They had discarded their ranks and called themselves the Knights of Arthur.

“Aye, the families of late have been quiet,” Lamorak spoke of the three prominent families there.

“If they are silent, then it all augurs well for us. The Senate won’t be asking for our assistance on them.” Arthur replied. “I hear Marcus has plenty to do holding them to their land grabbing.”

“I could not persecute on hearsay, woman.” Centurion Marcus Giles looked at the grieving woman who had approached him that their land was grabbed by the Roman family.

“The Marcellus does bear the deed of sale on the land to them. It was imprinted by your late husband.” Marcus showed the piece of paper which was marked by the husband.

“They lied and they took our land.” The woman wailed towards the Centurion. “Dabby will not sell the land for it was his father’s father's land. It’s their heirloom.”

“I will not suffer any more of this. If the woman wants is coins, I am willing to compensate her but not more than what I can afford.” Antonio Marcellus seated on the side at the Hall listened to the wailing with impatience.

“Hold your tongue, Marcellus. I will decide on the issue.” Marcus stared at the woman. “Your father’s print is here. We cannot deny that. He may have sold it to the Marcellus for the need of coins.”

“Or he wants to go North where the so-named First Cohort…” Marcellus was cut short by the Centurion.

“I bid you remain silent or I may expunge your claims.” Marcus was getting agitated with the other. He had been settling land issues than with the locals and the families. The later have exerted their influence by force or coercion on the locals. He knew the families have in their services the mercenaries who act for them.

“I will have the family give you more coins and you have my permission to move on. You may go North or anywhere to find another land.” Marcus looked at the woman and then to Marcellus.

“Give the lady the weight of the goblet of coins. Make haste for I am needed elsewhere.” Marcus commanded the Marcellus.

“It’s a farce. I have paid for the land. I will …” Antonio Marcellus roared out in anger.

“You can report me to the Legatus of the Legion. Or even to the Senate. My words stand firm here.” Marcus told Marcellus. “I am the Centurion of the Ninth Cohort here.”

There was a stare challenge between the two and finally, Antonio gave in. He stormed out and was taken to his horse. He was escorted by three guards. He rode to this villa then completed and guarded by fifty guards with the vast land that he had gathered by deceit or force. He was met by his aging mother and three growing daughters.

“I lost again. It’s the third piece of land I have to pay.” Antonio grumbled. “Mother, I need …”

“Say no more.” Antonio’s mother indicated to the three grandchildren within hearing distance. “I will look at it.”

Antonio nodded. He had known of his mother’s use of the dark arts. It was what kept him alive for so long. He looked to his daughters; Heidi, Catlin, and Madeline. They have grown and were into his heart. They reminded him of Bernadette.

“How fares the Meleagant family?” Antonio was asked by his mother.

“I hear they are well. Young Meleagant is a fine man now. He may be a good suitor for Heidi.” Antonio replied. “But we are at conflict both the Meleagant and us.”

“Over the land matters, I presume.” The elderly lady looked at her son. “Was it the one by the creek?”

“Yes, Mother.” Antonio had sent his mercenaries there but the Meleagant was there earlier. They had offered a reasonable sum for the land.  It has the creek there and the old monastery. There in the monastery resides the old monk who was said to be proficient in the spells. His mother intended to evict the monk but they were unsuccessful.

“The Meleagant have it and offered the monk to remain there,” Antonio told his mother.

“It was a wide move by them but it may not hold forever.” The elderly lady mumbled. At that moment in the old monastery, the elderly monk dressed in the tattered knee-length tunic sat by the fireplace to cook his meal. He was aging and required a stool to sit on. He may have aged with his sight failing but he held himself knowledgeable about some spells. He looked into the broth in the pot. He had placed inside it the wild mushrooms and herbs.

“Come in, young Octavia.” The old monk called out. “There is no door on my monastery but only an entrance.”

Octavia Meleagant had grown in the last seasons to a finer man dressed in the colorful tunic and wore a sword on the waist belt. He had learned to use the sword with training by the masters appointed by his father.

“Nothing surprises you, old monk.” Octavia stepped to the fireplace. He found a wooden stool to sit on.

“You sought the lady.” The elderly monk spoke out. He did not wait for the reply and stirred the broth. “She is fine.”

“Can I see her?” Octavia Meleagant asked.

“Yes.” The old monk reached out with his left hand and waved it. He called on the spell of sight and a wavy image appeared there in mid-air. “Behold the sight of the lady.”

It was seen the lady that was besotted by young Octavia talking to her friends in the coastal area. She looked happy and was carrying a basket filled with fruits. Octavia reached out with his right hand and the image dissipates.

“Why does it do that every time?’ Octavia asked.

“The spell does not want to be intruded on. You must refrain from reaching it.” The old monk told repeatedly to Octavia. “If you persist, the spell may not work anymore.”

“I am sorry, Monk. I shall be going now.” Octavia stood up. “My servant will deliver the food you requested.”

The young man tool leaves and his servant, Adonis appeared with the basket of food. The servant placed the basket on the floor and then removed the food.

“Monk, I brought you…” Adonis was cut off.

“I know what you had brought but are you well, young one?” The monk asked. “Does he still harm you?”

Adonis was alerted to that question when he first delivered the food as requested by his master. He had heard of the old monk in the land but due to his deferment or denial, he had never chanced to speak to the monk till then. He was surprised that the monk could relate to his pains and sufferings by the young master.

“The young master mistreats you.” The monk had said.

“Yes, and worse, he takes me for his …. Whore.” Adonis had confessed. The young master was not into the carnal pleasures but the exerting of pain by it. “The ladies have shunned him and even the paid ones have refused his coins. He held no regard for others. I want to kill him but I have no opportunity.”

“Unfortunately, you have none.” The old monk replied. “It’s your destiny to suffer and you will die with it.”

“Make the change to my destiny.” Adonis had pleaded.

“Unfortunately, I can see the images and foretell the truth but not to change its destiny.” The old monk had explained many times.

“Then I shall do it myself, even if death avails me at its gates.” Adonis stood up and took leave of the old monk. The old monk sat there and then spoke up.

“Your deed is done.” The old monk continued with the stirring of the broth.

“Indeed, you have. I have my coins for you.” The voice belonged to Julia, the lover of Bardel Meleagant. “The fool will do the task although he may fail his sufferings will end.”

“What do you gain from his loss, Lady?” The old monk asked.

“I want to remove the comforts that young Octavia may have now. He will be alone and with it, he will act in haste. In doing so, he will incur sufferings.” Julia replied. “I bared him no love but the presence of him reminded me of this mother.”

“You do know that his end was foretold.” The monk reminded the lady. Julia had seen him some seasons back for his foresight. He had spoken of Octavia as requested by Julia.

“Young Octavia will die for the loss of unrequited love. He will act harshly and pay with his life.” The old monk had revealed his role of the seer.

“How may I make haste of that?” Julia had asked.

“Impatience maybe your peril.” The Monk had replied.

“I don’t care. I just want Octavia out of my life.” Julia admitted her desire. “If you do not act for me, I will have you evicted or worse, dead by nightfall.”

The old monk remained silent. He could see the sights of others but never of himself. It was the curse of the spell. He feared for his own life, and at that old age, he desired nothing more than a quiet life. He relented to the lady’s call only if she has Meleagant spared him of the eviction.

“It will be done and I will have Octavia at your side to see his heart desire. Plague with it, and let him suffer but make haste his sufferings so that he will perish over it.” The old monk heard the lady left the place. He then stood up and smiled. The image of the old monk then dissipated and the lady appeared.

“Gullible they all are.” It was Morgause who stood there. She had the old monk removed into the broth swirling in the heat before she took his place. No one noticed the broth was the same every time. No cares on an old monk.

“Sights beyond? Mockery of the skills? I can conjure any image from their mind.” Morgause spoke up and called up the image of Guinevere.

“You are a beauty, my dear but a troubled one. Your loss of the once-forgotten father has driven you to seek your mother’s soul but she had moved on. Unfortunately, your trip home was not to your desire.” Morgause looked at the new image of the real lady huddled in the dark corner of a dark place.

Indeed, Lady Guinevere did not reach her home.