The Inheritance

A Dr. Who/Adventures of Sir Lancelot crossover story

By Bineshii

Note before this story begins: In a couple of fan fiction stories I wrote for The Adventures of Sir Lancelot, I added a new character, Aveline, as Lancelot's younger sister who is the same age as Brian, Lancelot's squire. In those stories, Lancelot encouraged a friendship between Aveline and Brian. Both Aveline and Brian figure largely in this story.

Chapter 1: The Arrival

Susan went to the door. "Where are we now?"

"Wait," said her grandfather, scanning the controls. "I do believe we are somewhere...on Earth. Again. England."

"Good!" Ian exclaimed, striding over to Susan and putting a hand on her shoulder. "Home!"

He opened the door, looked around, and stepped out. "The air smells so clean. We are obviously not close to any city. I don't see any roads or buildings. Do you recognize this area?" he asked Barbara who had come up behind him.

"No, but that forest, it is so extensive, this does not seem right...for OUR time."

Ian snapped his fingers and pursed his lips in frustration. "Right place, wrong time, I'll bet."

The Doctor emerged and walked around the Tardis, coming back around the other side. "Sixth century confirmed," he said.

"How do YOU know. Are you sure we are on Earth?" asked Barbara.

"That castle behind us. And that man approaching fast on a horse."

"What?" exclaimed Ian running behind the Tardis with Barbara at his heels.

They stopped short. The horse was caparisoned in colorful cloth, the man's clothes colorful too, over chain mail and he was drawing a sword when he saw them standing there.

"Sixth century?" asked Ian. Is this what I think it is?"

"An armored knight?" asked Barbara. "Really?"

The man slowed his horse to a walk, then stopped completely. He looked them over and lowered his sword a bit, making an assessment that they did not look dangerous, but he seemed puzzled. Then he spoke.

"I am Sir Bors. Who are you and what brings you here to Camelot?"

...

"They seem to be merchants, is my guess, though they say not, My Lord," said Sir Bors bowing before his king. "They say they came in this blue box, yet there are no wheels on it and no horses or oxen to pull it."

"What magic is this?" interjected Sir Kay.

"Summon Merlin," the king barked to a page, his hands on his hips under his red and white plaid robe.

"That is King Arthur," Barbara whispered in awe to Ian.

"I guessed that," he whispered back in irritation. "Every English speaking child's fantasy, this time in our history, but I still would have preferred our own 20th century," he said glaring at the Doctor.

"Silence! Bow to your king!" Sir Bors looked put out at these strangers' manners.

The strangers bowed awkwardly. All but the Doctor.

"You! Old man!" Sir Bors slapped the Doctor on the leg with the flat of his sword.

"Oh, very well," conceded the Doctor ungraciously doing a slight bow.

A white bearded man in a long robe and tall pointed hat swept into the hall followed by a younger man in chain mail and a red tunic with some sort of bird appliquéd on it.

"What have we here?" asked the man in the pointed hat as he walked up to them with no fear. He focused on the Doctor. "You, Sir, are the leader. You are one of my kind, aren't you? Welcome then."

Merlin turned to the king. "Sire, these people are harmless magicians. They should be welcomed and found quarters. I wish to consult with them."

"Such a quick evaluation now, Merlin? Are you sure?" asked the king.

"Quite sure, Sire."

Merlin beckoned for the Doctor to follow him, which he did. As the two 'magicians' stepped toward the door, Susan and Barbara gasped at the man who had followed Merlin into the hall.

"Ian!" they said in unison, then turned to see that Ian was still standing beside them.

...

Lancelot took in the situation instantly. One of these strangers in outlandish clothing looked a lot like himself and the two ladies had mistaken himself for this man beside them who must be this 'Ian'. Lancelot did not know what to make of women wearing trousers. Magicians were a strange lot anyway. Their leader had gone off with Merlin leaving them confused about what they were supposed to do now, thought Lancelot, noting their uneasiness. He looked to his king who was addressing them again.

"Good people, it seems that my court magician is vouching for you, so I will ask my seneschal, Sir Kay, to find quarters for you." The king turned to Lancelot. "Are you known as 'Ian' from any of your missions where you had to use a disguise?"

"No, My Lord," said Lancelot with raised eyebrows. He turned to the strangers, bowing only slightly because he was unsure of their social standing. Then he introduced himself. "I am Sir Lancelot of the Lake, a knight of King Arthur's Round Table."

"Sir Lancelot?" gasped Barbara. She turned and smiled at Ian. "I would never have imagined such an iconic literary character is actually a real historical personage and would of all people, resemble you, Ian."

"Perhaps Lancelot is Ian's great, great, great..." Susan started to suggest.

Barbara broke in again with "Well, they both ARE from the same part of Earth, even if fourteen centuries apart in time."

"My Lady, what is this about resembling me and being fourteen centuries apart?" asked Lancelot, stepping forward and looking Ian over more closely.

Ian, was a bit nonplussed. He nodded to Lancelot and took a deep breath. "Sir, I am pleased to make your acquaintance, and astounded by our resemblance to each other. I have no explanation for this resemblance. But you see, we are from the future; you are known to us from our past, our history. As a boy, like every other boy I knew, I read the tales of King Arthur and his knights. All of us lads wanted to be Sir Lancelot when we played at being knights with swords we made from sticks. Again, I am dumbfounded that of all people, I would resemble YOU."

King Arthur, ever the diplomat, said "Merlin talks of the past and the future as if he knows them. Yet I am a skeptic that such great magic is possible, though an open mind would be useful here, until things are proven to be different. And this resemblance is indeed strange," remarked the king. "Could it be the doing of your leader?"

"He is called The Doctor, and he is Susan's grandfather," explained Barbara, as she put a hand on Susan's shoulder. "The Doctor had no hand in Ian's looks. Ian looked as he does now, before we even met the Doctor."

"And my question about fourteen centuries has yet to be answered," insisted Lancelot. "How and why did you come here? I know young boys play at being knights, and I am flattered that they specifically want to play at being me. But they do this fourteen centuries in the future? People remember back that far?" Lancelot's eyes rolled upward communicating disbelief.

"I am an historian by trade, and a teacher," said Barbara, trying to convince Lancelot of the veracity of their statements. "Fourteen centuries is actually not that long in the overall time it has taken for civilizations to develop on our world. Ian is also a teacher and Susan is one of our students. I realize it is hard to believe but we are from fourteen centuries in the future, yet it is true. We have been traveling in The Doctor's Tardis. That is the blue box that your Sir Bors found us beside."

"So only The Doctor is a magician?" asked the king.

"In effect, yes," said Barbara. "But he considers himself a scientist, not a magician."

King Arthur sighed. "This is more magic than I ever thought possible, and of science, I know little. The Doctor must be a great magician indeed. Lancelot, I would like you to make our guests welcome. After Sir Kay has arranged quarters for them, I want you to give them a tour of the castle and stay with them to help them participate in any activities which interest them."

Lancelot caught the king's eye and his hidden, as well as his stated, meaning. He was to keep an eye on these strangers, learn more about them, make sure they were not a danger.

"Yes, My Lord," he said and followed behind as Sir Kay led them off to find suitable quarters.

...

People from all over the known world found their way to Camelot to visit the famous kingdom with its radical new political ideas. So the easy acceptance of the locals, who were used to strangers, made it possible for the four companions from the Tardis to wander about the castle and nearby environment unmolested and often shown great curtsey. The court ladies made quite a fuss over Barbara and Susan, dressing them according to local fashion and fixing their hair - as much as short hair could be fixed.

The Doctor's attire was much remarked on but he was offered no change of clothing, to his amusement. Magicians, the people thought, were a fussy lot, used to their own mysterious ways and dress. The Doctor's gruffness did nothing to dispel this notion. But since Ian was the same size as Lancelot, if only slightly taller, the knight graciously offered to have his squire give Ian some of his own clothes. Of course, they had to be clothes that were without any of Lancelot's personal heraldry.

The days passed, and the four companions got used to the daily rhythm of activities in Camelot. They stopped trying to stay together as a group – a thing the Doctor had done right from the start, in going off with Merlin. Lancelot had assessed them as harmless, so he stopped escorting them everywhere and went back to his routines. But Ian was drawn to his fascinating twin and usually followed the knight around to see what he was up to. Aveline, Lancelot's younger sister, and one of the queen's young ladies, took Susan in hand. So Brian just included Susan when he had free time to spend with Aveline. Though too young to be actually considered a courting couple, Brian and Aveline had become very close.

In the early morning, Ian usually studied Lancelot at practice with the other knights. The man went through a series of warm ups which reminded Ian of Tai Chi. Lancelot then would chose a sparring partner and go through what looked like set drills with slow moves and counter moves. Ian was surprised that this wasn't just an insult-and-challenge exercise with furious hacking away without form. This structured practice was nothing like what low budget films made in the 20th century led the public to believe about medieval life. Ian realized, a bit ashamed, that academic though he was, he still was affected by popular entertainment interpretations of the past.

Ian watched as the practice progressed to heavy exercise with the knights employing their best moves. But Lancelot and a couple of the more esteemed knights would stop for a moment when someone used an effective move against them. They would ask their partner to show it in slow motion. Then they would practice it slowly by themselves, before returning to the same partner or different one, to perfect the new move. Even if they were initially clumsy at it and it took many tries, they stuck with it until they had mastered it. The ordinary knights just used their tried-and-true few favorite moves and, laughing, quit for the day. That willingness to learn something new and expend time on extra practice, thought Ian, was what separated the merely competent knights from the champions. Something that was true in any profession and all time periods, to Ian's way of thinking.

Lancelot and Gawain and Bors were the last to stop practicing. Sweaty, breathless, tired, but quietly satisfied, they cleaned and stored their weapons - even the ones left by the other knights. These few men now had Ian's respect because they approached their profession like he did his, when faced with a difficult science problem. He isolated it, studied it, asked colleagues for help if needed. This is how one got good at things – never being afraid to learn.

The three knights were doing some cool down stretches when Ian left them. All that seemed to separate these people from himself, he was now sure, was the level of technology. Well, and of course some language drift and some cultural practices.

Ian wandered off to where the squires were finishing their lessons with Master Hugh. Brian wiped his sweaty face and brushed back a wet lank of blond hair, then waved at Ian. The boy had invited Ian to share midday meal with him and Aveline and Susan. Aveline had assembled a picnic basket and the four of them were to enjoy it in the shade of one of Camelot's many groves of shade trees.

"So you are a teacher like Barbara?" Asked Aveline. "She of history and you of magic?"

"Not magic, young lady, science," corrected Ian.

Susan laughed. "They both are my teachers, or were, back at Coal Hill School. But we all are kind of students of my grandfather."

"Your Tardis is comfortable," said Brian. "I especially like your shower. No hauling buckets of water to a big tub."

"You took them inside the ship?" asked Ian sharply.

Susan piped back "Ian, be reasonable. It's not like I showed them how to start it up and take off or showed them how to build a gasoline engine or even a steam engine."

"Does your grandfather know about this?" Ian asked.

"Sure. Um, well, I'll tell him when I see him next. He went off to some forest hovel with Merlin for a few days."

"Then I guess that leaves me and Barbara in charge," said Ian, slapping his thighs. "Please be careful about corrupting history and all that. Barbara and I would like to find our 20th century the same as it was when we left it. That is, IF the Doctor can ever return us there."

Susan rolled her eyes. "Such as it was. It was fun to explore, but really Ian, your century could use some improvement."

"I know. Improvement by the people who live in it. That is the way it should happen," Ian scolded.

"I wouldn't mind learning how to build an engine. Is that gasoline engine the one that runs on tracks?" Asked Brian.

Ian looked pointedly at Susan. He turned to Brian. "The steam engine was the first engine to run on tracks. It was replaced by the diesel engine. Diesel is a petroleum product, as is gasoline. But actually, early on, there were steam cars that didn't need tracks and ran on paved roads the same as vehicles with rubber tires and gasoline engines."

Susan laughed. "You see, Ian? Now you are as guilty as I am. Really now, you can't help talking about these things. It is not like we are giving them any idea how to build something."

"I concede the point, Susan, you are right. But just the knowledge that these things are possible to build, that could change history."

"Is it okay for us to teach you how to use a sword? A butter churn? A bow?" asked Brian. "You don't seem to know how to use our...how do you say it? Our tech...ology, either."

"Technology." Ian corrected. "We did know how to use your technology once, but we forgot how to use it when we went on to different technology. Yes, it is okay for you to teach, or rather, re-teach us."

Brian smiled. "Good. Because...Susan is getting rather good with my pea shooter."

...

Barbara liked the look and feel of her borrowed gown. It made her feel graceful as she entered the main hall and was offered a mug of ale by Sir Gawain. What attentive manners, she thought, as she sipped her ale and spotted Susan playing chess with Aveline while Brian watched intently. Sir Gawain took Barbara's arm and seated her at a table where women were doing needle work and men were mending chainmail.

"Good afternoon, Lady Barbara," said a pleasant voice behind her.

"Good afternoon, Sir Lancelot," said Barbara turning in her chair to give him a wide smile.

"You are very becoming in the fashion of our court," he said, pulling a chair over and sitting close to her. "A deep blue, the color suits you."

"Why thank you. And you, in that soft shade of brown velvet, I appreciate it when men dress well for the ladies."

Lancelot glowed with her compliment. He took great care with his appearance and the ladies noticed more than other men did, the details of clothing. The ladies were so good at making a man feel appreciated, useful, and cared for. Besides their beauty, Lancelot loved women for their attention and concern. In this aspect, they were usually superior to men...at least the men he dealt with. Women were friends, not rivals, and deserved special treatment. He brushed Barbara's cheek gently with his finger.

Barbara moved closer, making little movements with her chair until she was so close that her arm practically touched his. He was so like Ian in many ways, but she wished Ian were more like Lancelot in his ease at making small talk and flirting. She listened to Lancelot's voice as he greeted others around the table. Such manners! In her own century, people had forgotten to take time for such graciousness with manners. Everyone was in a hurry in her time like a friend who often brushed past her saying "Hi Barbara, nice to see you, gotta go do some errands, talk to you again soon, okay?" Here in Camelot, people took time to just sit and get to know each other. Of course everyone carried knives here, even the women. So politeness was essential.

Sir Lancelot leaned toward Barbara and said "Would you like to see the rose garden, Barbara? It isn't far and the colors are so vibrant right now, though not as vibrant as you."

What woman could resist such words? Barbara smiled, blushing slightly. The envious eyes of all the women at the table were on her. "Yes, I would like that very much," she said, rising and offering her hand to him.

They left hand in hand, not noticing that Ian had come in through another door and was following them with his own worried eyes.

In the garden, the flowers were as beautiful as Lancelot had told her. Barbara reached out to touch one yellow bloom, then a red one. They were not as large and delicate as the roses of her own time, though. And there was not the variety of shades. But they were carefully tended by gardeners fussing here and there with weeding and pruning. She turned to Lancelot as he picked one bloom and wound it into her hair just over her ear. He stepped back to evaluate the effect.

"There, red looks exquisite against your dark hair. I do believe you would make a blooming addition to our court. Would you consider staying here with us?" he asked.

"That is very tempting. But you see..." began Barbara.

He stepped forward and cupped her chin in both of his hands, kissing her on the forehead. It sent a thrill through her. She had so wanted Ian to do that. Her response was instinctive as she raised her arms and encircled his neck. What was she doing? She wondered, but she could not stop herself. She kissed him on the cheek and almost whispered "Ian".

Lancelot returned the kiss with one of his own, on her other cheek, drawing her close in his arms. Then he whispered to her: "I wish I was free to take this further, but I am not. My heart belongs to another. Just let me hold you for a moment."

Timing is everything. And this was bad timing for Ian who had followed Barbara and Lancelot to the garden. Coming around a gardener's storage hut, he witnessed the gift of the flower and the kissing. Jealousy that he did not know he was capable of spiked through his body. Before he knew what he was doing, he had run up to them and pushed Lancelot away from Barbara.

"Leave her alone! You can't start anything with her like you do with every damn woman you see, like in all the stories about you! She is not of your time! This is wrong!" And he slapped Lancelot.

Realizing he had gone too far, Ian stepped back. He turned to Barbara. "Sorry. But you know we can't get involved with the locals every time we step out of the Tardis. And this, this is our history! You know this man's reputation from legend! And because we have discovered that he actually exists, you know what a danger he is to women!" He bent to Barbara's ear and whispered "from legend, one woman actually committed suicide because of him!"

"Ian! Are you insane?" Barbara pushed him away and stepped back. "Sir Lancelot, I am extremely sorry about this! Really, Ian, what has come over you?"

"Barbara," Ian now had a note of embarrassed pleading in his voice. "Look, I am sorry. But, you see, I care for you...very much. Maybe too much."

"Oh, Ian. Me too. I wish you had said something before now. But this..." she looked at the crowd that had gathered. "We have caused a scene."

Many people had seen Ian slap Lancelot. To them this meant something very significant. Barbara, who was something of a Roman through Medieval period scholar, knew what it meant too.

Lancelot glared at Ian. "I had no idea there was an understanding between the two of you. Besides, what made you think I am a danger to women? I am a protector of women! Being sorry does not remedy this situation. There is something else which must be done about it." Lancelot was very aware of what his role was now.

It slowly dawned on Ian what this meant between two men in this culture. Honor was now at stake.

A challenge had been issued. Ian had challenged the great Sir Lancelot. The news would spread like wildfire all over Camelot. Indeed, something had to be done about this.

...

Barbara hurried after Ian who had stamped off to his quarters after he and Lancelot had gone through the formalities of naming a time and place. She pushed the curtain hanging over the doorway aside and went to stand beside him at the narrow window.

"Ian, I am sorry I responded to his flirting. Really, that is all it was, just some light flirting. But he is so like you in appearance and the attention he gave me...it is you that I wish gave me such sweet attention."

Ian pulled stiffly away from her, side stepping and crossing his arms. "It didn't look light to me! So I am not so courtly, am I? Not like him! He is a noble, a legendary hero. He has such smooth manners, a lilting voice. I'm just a clumsy academic, the son of a laborer, but one who studied hard and got an education. I am unschooled in the manners of nobles, especially if they are centuries old manners from a barbaric time. It is not my way to give you a courtly kiss! I am just not romantic enough for you, am I?"

Barbara touched his arm, but he did not respond. "Ian, it is you that I am attracted too, not him. I was wishing it was you when he kissed me. When you pushed him and told him to leave me alone, he got the message. It did not have to escalate into a challenge, which is what that slap means. I think you can still go to him and apologize and he would accept that."

Ian turned to her, his eyes sharp with anger. "You are not a man! You don't understand! Both he and I know what has to be done to satisfy honor. There must be a fight. That is expected in this primitive culture if we are to get along with the people here. It doesn't mean either of us has to get hurt, right?" Ian's look softened and he put his hands on Barbara's shoulders. "Look, I will go one round with him and concede. But I will not back down without a fight! He would not respect me if I did not try to fight him and I would not respect myself. After that, all the men here will treat me with more respect and he will leave you alone. That is the way things are done around here, right? From your knowledge of history? And this IS my culture, yours as well, even if from the distant past. The legends of this time, we all read them as children."

Ian looked more intently into her eyes, his anger slowly abating. "Please understand."

"I do understand, Ian. But it doesn't mean I have to like it. It doesn't mean I won't try to prevent it!"

She turned and walked out of his room. There was nothing more she could do by trying to reason with Ian. She tried talking to Sir Lancelot, then with King Arthur. Both of them said pretty much the same thing that Ian had said.

"Men!" She said as she passed the Doctor in a hallway. He shrugged and frowned, perplexed – having no idea what was going on . She went to the room she shared with Susan and threw herself on her bed face down in defeat.