If Birds Could Talk

A Further Adventure in the Adventures of Sir Lancelot

Chapter One

By Bineshii

Note: I introduced Aveline as an original character in an earlier stories as Lancelot's younger sister. This story is the latest, chronologically in my series, accept for the two cross-over stories with Star Trek and Dr Who which at the time of this story, have not yet happened. This is a multi-part story consisting of four chapters.

...

"Brian, is there any more stew left?"

"A little, My Lord," Brian said, lifting the pot off the fire and scrapping the bottom with a wooden spoon. He set the pot down and reached for Lancelot's bowl.

Handing it over, Lancelot asked "are you still hungry too?"

Brian smiled, "Sorry, I could only catch one fish. We only had a short time until night fall when we got to this camping spot."

"Not to worry, Brian." Lancelot's voice rose and fell gently over the words. "But you didn't answer me."

Brian's face brightened. "Oh! I have some honey cakes! I forgot about them. Aveline slipped them into my saddle bag just as we were leaving Camelot this morning."

"Well, just don't sit there, boy, go get them," laughed Lancelot.

As Brian was rooting in his saddle bag on the other side of the fire, Lancelot, in an impish mood said "I used to be the one that Aveline gave presents too."

Brian turned to Lancelot, his eyes wide, saying "You still are her favorite brother, though. And look, enough here for both of us. I'm sure she meant them for both of us."

"Or for you for a couple of days," Lancelot said, putting in a petulant note. "And I am her ONLY brother. She has to like me."

"Oh nooo, My Lord. Surely these are for both of us." Studying Lancelot's face, Brian picked up the fact that Lancelot was teasing him so he said impishly "She does like you. MOST of the time."

Lancelot took the cake that Brian handed him. He ran it around the edge of the bowl Brian handed back to him to sop up all the remaining stew. And looking at Brain out of the corner of his eye, continued his teasing with "Most of the time? I see. I suppose that is all a poor brother can expect, because one day she will run off with someone she likes better than her brother. That girl will one day make someone a fine wife. She is a good cook."

"So am I a good cook!" protested Brian, blushing because he knew that Lancelot knew how much he was becoming attached to Aveline. Lancelot even seemed to be pushing the relationship, but Brian was trying to divert the conversation from Aveline right now.

"I know you are a good cook, Brian. It's the only reason I made you my squire. So I could have tasty meals when we were out on missions for the king."

Brian looked at Lancelot sharply and blinked.

"Brian, don't you know by now when I am teasing you? Look, you caught the fish and made the dinner. I will go down to the stream and clean our dishes."

"Good," said Brian, a bit put out about the teasing and he ducked his head so that Lancelot did not muss his hair too badly as the knight rose and walked past him balancing the dishes in one hand, and disappeared down the slope to the stream.

Brian spread out his bed roll, sat on it, and was just using a tooth pick before rinsing his teeth with a cup of water when he was startled by a voice from above.

"Brian."

"Sir Lancelot? Are you up in that tree?" asked Brian after hitting himself in the chin with his cup and spilling water down his neck.

"Brian. Brianbrianbrian."

Brian realized that was not Lancelot's voice but someone trying to imitate him. He jumped up and looked around for his sword. Finding it, he snatched it up before answering back "Who are you and what do you want?"

"Good cook. Honeycakehoneycake. Brian." Said the voice above him.

"Don't you call me honey cake, whoever you are! Come down out of that tree!"

"Is there any more stew left? Honey cake."

"That is quite enough! I said not to call me honey cake!" shouted Brian stamping around under the tree where he was sure the voice was coming from.

"Brian! What in the world?"

Brian turned to see Sir Lancelot back from the stream, holding the dishes in his hands, a perplexed expression on his face. "Who are you talking to and why are you telling them not to call you honey cake?"

Brian pointed with the sword. "Up there! He's up in that tree, My Lord. He must have been hiding up there and listening to us earlier."

Lancelot grabbed the cool end of a stick that was burning in the fire and raising it, walked over to the tree. He waved it slowly, trying to see up into the tree. "Hello? Who are you? Show yourself!"

"She does like you. Most of the time."

'What? You are not making any sense! Come on down here!" Lancelot was becoming exasperated.

"What? Show yourself, honeycakehoneycake."

"I'll show you some honey cake!" said Brian, running to his saddle bag and fishing out another honey cake. He returned to the tree and held it out in his hand. "See? This is honey cake, not me."

There was a rustle of wings and a gray form floated down from the tree. A bird with feet extended dropped down onto Brian's outstretched arm and began to peck at the honey cake in Brian's hand. Then lifting one foot, the bird picked up a piece of the honey cake in that foot and started eating it.

"That's a parrot, Brian. I saw one once in the home of one of the Romans who still remain in Britain even with the legions long gone. It is a bird from Africa."

"It's heavy on my arm," said Brian whispering as he bent his elbow and brought the bird closer to his face.

"Sqwaaak!"

Brian stretched his arm away from his face and the bird started eating again.

"Gently, Brian. This is a rare bird. This kind of bird can talk. It may be lost and its owner might be looking for it."

"We have no cage. How will we keep it?"

"It doesn't need a cage," said a high voice from a few feet away.

A girl of about ten years stepped softly over to Brian. "Greylady, I see you have found a friend." Then to Brian she said, "I will take her on my arm when she finishes her meal."

When the bird had eaten its fill and sipped some water from Brian's cup, the three humans sat down close to the fire with the bird on Lady Violet's shoulder. The girl explained that indeed the bird had flown off by itself on an adventure. Since night came upon it before it returned to its home, it must have picked a tree to roost in for the night. Violet was glad it had not become prey of a larger bird as it really was only a medium size bird, after all.

After talking for awhile by the fire, Lancelot lifted Violet up on Caledon with Greylady still perched on her shoulder. Violet had been treated to the last of the seedcake, since she had grown hungry searching for her bird for hours. She had also explained that the castle she lived in was only a half mile away, but hidden by a woodland from Lancelot and Brian's campsite.

"Lady Violet, your people must be very worried about you being along outside your castle after dark. I must get you back to them immediately. And Brian, bank the fire for the night. I will be back shortly after returning our guests to their home."

Brian nodded. "Of course, My Lord. Nice to have met you, Lady Violet."

The girl smiled back at Brian as Lancelot led Caledon off on foot. Lancelot was afraid the bird would not tolerate him so close if he was to ride on Caledon too. The bird had pin-pointed its eyes when Lancelot had tried to give it a bit of honey cake with his fingers.

When Lancelot returned later, riding Caledon, Brian was wrapped in his bed role already asleep.

The next morning, they had a quick breakfast of oatmeal heated in water over the still glowing coals of their fire. They put out the fire and continued on their short mission before returning to Camelot. On their way back, they had stopped in to visit Violet and Greylady. Violet's parents let her accompany Lancelot to Camelot, hoping their daughter would be acceptable as one of the Queen's young attendants.

...

Lancelot spent most mornings at Camelot on the practice fields to keep his skills sharp. Today, Lancelot thought Brian looked contemplative, perhaps slightly despondent, as he prepared practice weapons and handed them to the knights. After mopping the sweat off his face, Lancelot hung up his last practice weapon on a hook in the wall and strode over to the boy.

"Something a bit off today in my style?" Lancelot asked, a bemused smile directed at Brian.

"Oh no, My Lord, not at all. And I was watching very closely. No one can touch you in style, not even Sir Gawain though he tries ever so hard. He likes sparring with you, I think, because it does improve his own style. I wish you could see yourself from the stands at a tournament against the most worthy of your opponents. All the table knights make jousting and swordplay look so easy, almost like skilled dancers. But when you go up against even the Table knights, you make them look inept and clumsy. I never, ever, will be that good!"

Lancelot clapped his arm around Brian's shoulders and squeezed the boy against him. Brian winced a bit. Lancelot was a very physical man and unaware that often he used too much strength when trying to just be companionable.

"Hey, Brian, you don't know that about yourself Not at this stage of your training. Taking such a self deprecating attitude will only make it a self-fulfilling prophesy."

Lancelot patted Brian's shoulder but restrained himself from mussing Brian's hair. He knew the lad was getting irritated with that. The boy was noticing girls now and took pains to groom his hair.

"Brian, just take it in small steps. Make each practice one where you do your best. Try to just do a little better than you did the day before. Compete only with yourself, going for small improvements. And when you get knocked on your butt by another squire, analyze what moves he used. Learn them. There are always new moves to learn, even for me. Throughout your lifetime, take a learning attitude. Even when you are old and thinking of retiring from tournaments in favor of your sons. That is my plan and the plan of any knight who excels on the practice field and in actual combat."

And again Brian winced as Lancelot hugged him before pushing him toward the practice field.

Brian turned and gave Lancelot an uncertain grin. "Whatever works for you certainly would be good advice for me."

Lancelot watched the boy square his shoulders and walk off with more purpose toward the other squires who were now beginning their practice.

"Lancelot," a sweet soft voice hailed him from just behind his left shoulder. He turned to smile down at the queen whose breath he could feel through his chainmail. She was breathing a bit hard and her face was flushed when he turned to look down at her. She must have been practically running because she took a couple of more breaths before she spoke again. "It's that bird. That African Grey parrot young Lady Violet brought with her when you brought her to Camelot on your return from your last mission."

"Is it sick?" Asked Lancelot frowning with concern.

"Oh no," explained the Queen. "Piecing together some of its awkward phrases, it seems to be telling us a strange tale of woe which may mean another mission I wish to send you on. I want you to listen to the bird this afternoon. It does its most talking when people are in the room ignoring it because they are engaged in other activities. It is talking to get attention and the more it talks, the words start to make sense. We could play a game of chess near its perch, ignoring it for most of the time to get it to talk."

"Lead on, My Lady, there is nothing I would enjoy more than seeing a beautiful face across a table over a chess board." His wide smile and the tender look in his eyes as he gazed down at her made a thrill run down her spine and her blush deepened.

"You are incorrigible in you flattery, Sir. But come."

Pivoting away from him and lifting the hem of her skirt so she could move with ease, Guinevere walked away quickly knowing he would follow.