"Bors?" Venora called from the bar. Everyone was quiet for once, either concentrating on their game, or listening to a hushed story and something that had been on her mind needed to come out now that the customers were as quiet as they would ever be.
Bors turned around in his chair to look at his woman. The look on her face told him it was serious. She was seven months along; their twelfth. He got up and walked over. He leaned across the bar and shut his eyes, cringing in anticipation for the smack.
"I only talked to her once. She wasn't even that pretty." He insisted.
"that is not what I want to talk to you about, Bors." She said and pushed his face away.
'What's wrong, Norey?' He asked using her nickname trying to lighten her mood.
'Something is not right.' She stated.
'I know. I've been fighting too long but once Arthur is finished talking to the Bishop we will all be free men…' he stated.
'Not that either. Something is wrong with the babe. Normally the babe is kickin' and movin' all the time bit this one is quiet.'
'Do you think its okay?'
'Yes. Its just fine.' She said rubbing her swollen stomach with care.
'Then what's wrong with it?' Bors asked coming around the bar and taking her closer to him.
'Bors, this babe has a secret." She looked up into his eyes. "One that you will be upset with. This babe has a large chance of bein' Lance's.' She said pulling away from him.
'You said that about the last one too.'
'I know. But this one's different from any other that I've birthed. Bors, what would you do if it were Lance's?' She asked.
'I would kill him. Lance o' course. He has his pick of any woman but the one, the only one I choose is mine and not his to borrow. How could it possibly be his. I have been with you every night when I am here." He calmly. Inside him, he raged for Lance's blood. Too many times had that boy touched his lass. This was the last time.
'You was leaving again and he offered me a large sum; enough to get me an' the bastards through the winter. It was too much to pass on. It was quick and I figured nothin' bad come of it. That night I slept with you too, that very same night. The chance was close but I know, mothers instinct, that this child is not yours.'
Bors let out a huff of exasperation and turned away. He walked back to the table to pick up his drink he caught sight of Lancelot feeling up the dress of some waitress. Bors slammed down his drink and was about three feet away from Lancelot, before he could beat him to a pulp, one of the knight's piped up and called for Venora to sing. She had just picked up her most recent child when the knight called. She declined but with some encouragement from them all she was up there and singing before she knew it.
All the knights listened to her sing with awed and looks of complete joy, and contentment on their faces.
'We will go home, we will go home, we will go home across the mountain…' she sang.
None saw Arthur approach.
Venora finished and the knight's finally noticed Arthur as he turned away to go tell the Bishop that the deal was off. That he couldn't do it to his men. The knights all walked over to Arthur and received the bad news.
Arthur and his knights arrived at their destination and left soon after. They journeyed back with all the people but the process was slow and they had to set up camp.
Lancelot was taking his things to where he was to sleep when he walked by Guinevere's caravan. She had just finished bathing and was drying herself off when she looked up to see him staring. He quickly looked away and kept going. He walked by most of the knights all of them gathered around a small fire. Lancelot caught Bors' eye and was frightened to see anger and hate burning in the gaze. With that look Lancelot thought it wise to sleep else where. Somewhere away from Bors. He walked into the wood until he couldn't hear the knights chatter but could still see the red glow of their fire.
He found a clearing and was shocked to see Tristan already laying off to one side.
'May I join you?' Lancelot asked knowing very well that Tristan was not asleep.
'Why not? I'm going to be scouting the land all night anyway.' Tristan said and rolled onto his side his back to Lancelot.
Lancelot set down his bed roll and lay upon it. When he was comfortable he turned to where Tristan lay and found Tristan's bed roll empty. He hated when Tristan did that. Scared him half to death with the fact that he heard nothing. But there, a snapping twig. Perhaps Tristan should work a little harder. Lancelot smiled to himself and looked down at the dragon medallion given to him by his father before leaving his home. He let it fall again to his chest and got comfortable again.
The footsteps he suddenly heard were heavy and close. The sound came from behind him. He stood and went for his double swords. He froze with them in his hands. Silence. He heard someone string an arrow to a bow off to his left. He heard the arrow being release and he moved out of the path of the arrow. He went to the arrow and found it was that of a Saxon. He went to get up but found a dagger at his throat.
'Get up slowly knight.' The Saxon sneered.
Lancelot suddenly whipped around but the Saxon had seen this coming and hit him over the -head with the hilt of his dagger before Lancelot could try anything. Lancelot fell to the ground.
When he came to, his legs were bound and his mouth was gagged with a foul smelling cloth.
The Saxon was binding his wrists together and looked up to find Lancelot staring at him.
'Well, well, well. Looks like I've finally captured Arthur.' The Saxon whispered deeply. 'He's going to be glad. We finally caught the famous Arthur.' The Saxon had Lance's sleeve in one hand. Lancelot thought the man was daft until he squinted and saw that something was embroidered into the cuff of the sleeve. 'Artorius C.'
He had borrowed one of Arthur's shirts after Bors had dumped his shirts into the mud on the way to the Roman family. As a joke of course, but now Lancelot was not laughing.
Lancelot groaned, of course something like this would happen to him. Of all people it would be him. He wasn't going to say anything about his real identity. Arthur would be safe if they thought it was he who was Arthur. I might even give Arthur the time he needed to get back to the wall in time.
"Yes, I am Artorius Castus.' Lancelot whispered. He didn't want the others to hear them because a frightened Saxon is a dangerous thing. especially an outnumbered one.
The Saxon grinned and began dragging Lancelot away from the camp. Lancelot thought frantically of a way to get out of the mess he found himself in but couldn't find one. With a final attempt at saving himself he tugged his dragon medallion from his neck and threw it on the ground, near his bedroll.
Tristan had heard a struggle happen near the camp site but thought it was one of the knights picking a fight with another. When he returned Lancelot had gone. He immediately saw that there were foot prints on the ground leading towards Lancelot's bedroll and that Lancelot's double swords were lying off to one side where an arrow also lay. He ran to them and knew exactly what had happened. He looked on the ground and found the imprint of someone being dragged away. He followed it to Lancelot's bed roll where he found the medallion. He then followed the imprint all the way to the center of the wood where it disappeared.
He turned back and went to find Arthur.
'Arthur! Arthur!' he called. Arthur whipped around from where he was standing by the fire.
'What is it, Tristan?' he asked alarmed at Tristan's tone.
'Lancelot has been taken by a Saxon back to their camp.' He said and showed Arthur the dragon medallion.
Arthur's breath caught. He was silent for a while.
'I would suggest that we wait till morning then Bors and I will go looking for him.' Tristan suggested. Arthur just nodded and turned away.
'Go tell Bors. And you two will leave before dawn, do you hear?' Arthur said his back to Tristan.
'Yes, Arthur.' Tristan said and he was gone.
Arthur's ears were still ringing. He couldn't believe that Lancelot had been taken. He suddenly felt so helpless that his best friend had gone.
They will find him in the morning and everything will be alright. He told himself. But he wasn't entirely sure of his own words. He then did what he thought was the best thing he could. He bent down in his knees and prayed for the life of his friend.
Arriving at the Saxon camp Lancelot was thrown into a dirty caravan full of blood soaked walls and red floors. It was empty except for a round wooden post in the far left corner. It was a large caravan. The Saxon dragged him towards the post and tied him so that his hands were above his head. The Saxon left him there. Lancelot pulled with all his strength on the rope that tied him to the post. Nothing. The Saxon had tied a good knot with a good rope that didn't even fray. He was stuck. The Saxon had taken all of his blades away.
The Saxon returned and smiled. He held the tent flap open for someone. Lancelot gazed in horror at the man who entered. Cynric. The Saxon army leader's son.
'Well. Look what we have here. The almighty Arthur. They say he's unbreakable. They say he is invincible. Him and his knights are the best in the land. We'll just see about that."
Cynric then took him out of the caravan after untying the rope from the post. He dragged Lancelot into the middle of the camp where all men could see.
"This is the mighty Artorius. The feared and terrible Arthur. And we have him. What do you think boys? Before we take him to the other camp, shall we…have him? Can't mix the races with…him." Cynric threw him to the ground. And the men who were surrounding him all threw their heads back and laughed.
'We are going to have to break this man before dawn. How many of you think it'll take to do it to do it?' The men all sneered and made noises in agreement.
'but first things first.' Cynric bent down so that he was eye level with Lancelot. 'Do you have anything to say before we break you Sir, knight?' He asked his breath stinking of ale. He removed Lancelot's gag.
'My knights will come for me and you and your army will suffer.' He threatened his face full of determination.
'Well he has courage, I'll give him that but I don't take to threats easily. Boys! If he cries out the one that made him do it will get extra mead for a week. Leave his gag out of his mouth so you can be sure that he is screaming.' He said over his shoulder. He looked at Lancelot and cupped his jaw. 'Have fun.' He said to Lancelot and left through the crowd of horny men. The group of men stared at him most of them Lancelot could tell were about to really enjoy themselves.
'He sure is pretty. 'One of the men said and came up to Lancelot. 'My name is Inryic and I am going to be the first one to make you scream. He began undoing his belt and Lancelot was suddenly aware of how close these men were going to get to him. He closed his eyes tightly and wished it all a dream. But when the Saxon began taking off his pants he knew he wasn't going to last the night.
(I am not going to go into graphic details often in this story but by this time you should be able to tell why it's rated M.)