Chapter 9: Arthur

Lancelot walked beside Gwen, listening attentively as she kept up a steady stream of chatter. He nodded and smiled down at her as she talked, realizing she was doing it for his benefit and appreciating her efforts. Not only did she remove any pressure for him to speak, she was providing a distraction to help him keep his mind off his nervousness.

She shared her home with her father, she said, a blacksmith named Tom, and had lost her mother when she was small. After speaking of her childhood a bit, she told him a little about her work with the Lady Morgana and how much she liked it.

Soon enough, however, they arrived at the training grounds, meeting up with an enthusiastic Merlin on the sidelines. Arthur was leading a group of knights through an exercise as the pair of supporters positioned themselves on either side of Lancelot, trying to reassure him with various encouragements.

"Don't let Arthur intimidate you," Gwen told him. "He likes to throw his authority around, but really, he's just an overgrown boy. Don't take him too seriously."

Merlin snorted in agreement. "You should hear some of the things he says to me. Threatens me ten times a day with the most awful things you can imagine and never follows through on any of them. Besides, I've seen you go up against a winged monster, Lancelot. Surely Arthur can't be more frightening than that. "

He wanted to take their words to heart, to see Arthur as more human and less intimidating. But he couldn't forget that his entire future depended on his ability to make a good impression on this man, to prove himself a worthy opponent. In truth, nothing anyone could have said in that moment would've lessened his anxiety.

"Well, you certainly look the part," Merlin said cheerfully, making a couple small adjustments to his clothing.

"Doesn't he just?" Gwen agreed. She'd done a beautiful job on his clothing, of course, even if his costume only made him feel more awkward somehow. Necessary or not, such fine clothes seemed to draw attention to how humble he really was rather than accomplishing the opposite.

"I don't feel it," he muttered, so nervous he could barely look at either of them.

Please let me get through this. Don't let this be a wasted effort. Let me prove myself worthy.

And then his anxious thoughts were interrupted as Arthur finished his exercise and dismissed the men.

"Here's your chance," Merlin said with an encouraging pat on his shoulder. "Go for it."

Despite his fears, he stepped forward without hesitation.

"Yes?" Arthur said, giving him a quizzical look.

"Lancelot, Fifth Son of Lord Eldred of Northumbria," he replied with a stiff nod. At least I didn't stutter, he thought to himself, ready to claim any small victory that might boost his flagging confidence.

"Lance...a lot? My servant mentioned you. Got your seal?"

"Sire," he said, giving the prince a respectful bow as he held out the roll of parchment.

The next thing he knew, he was on his backside on the ground, stunned by a hard blow to the face.

"Sluggish reactions," Arthur said, and too late, Lancelot realized it had been a test. "On a battlefield you'd be dead by now. Come back when you're ready."

That can't be it. No. Lancelot flashed back to his years of training, remembered pushing himself beyond exhaustion nearly every day just to get to this moment. He thought of Merlin going to great lengths to obtain the Seal of Nobility, just to give him this chance. And he pictured Gwen sewing tirelessly throughout the night, helping him dress this morning, and then looking at him with so much faith in her eyes.

With that, he rose to his feet and placed his hand on his sword. No, he wasn't willing to give up so easily.

"I'm ready now, sire," he announced boldly.

Just for a moment, he could have sworn he saw something like respect in the other man's eyes.

"You are, are you? Fine. You can start by cleaning out the stables."

Or maybe not. Did that mean he'd blown his chance? Or was this another test? It must be a test... Merlin was grinning and giving him an enthusiastic thumbs up.

"I can't say I envy you, Lancelot," he said a moment later, letting out a sympathetic laugh. "Can't tell you how many times I've had to muck out Arthur's horses. Don't worry though, that's just his way. I bet he wants to make you nice and humble before he tests your skill. Any advantage he can get, you know."

Lancelot let out a deep breath, incredibly relieved that the meeting was over, especially since it hadn't been anywhere near as bad as he'd feared. He hadn't been rejected outright and had done nothing to shame himself. Quite the opposite, in fact. He was rather proud of his swift recovery after the first test, and if this was what it took to finally have a chance to prove himself in combat, then Arthur would have the most spotless stables in five kingdoms.

He smiled at Merlin. "I'm already about as humble as I can get."

"Maybe, but Arthur doesn't know that. Probably thinks you're just another cocky noble who needs to be taken down a few pegs. Humor him. It'll be worth it."

"Merlin!" a demanding voice called in the distance. "My armor isn't going to polish itself!"

"Somehow, Lancelot, I don't think you're the one who needs a lesson in humility. I better go. See you tonight!" He trotted away, joining Arthur as they walked back to the palace.

Gwen had been quiet during the brief conversation, but then she smiled up at him as she said, "I need to see about Morgana. She's sure to be awake by now and will be wondering where I am. But you did well, Lancelot. Very well."

"Thank you, my lady."

He wanted to find some other way to express his gratitude for her help, to let her know how much he appreciated everything she'd done. Really, anything that gave him an excuse to linger just a few more minutes in her presence would've been just fine by him. They both had somewhere to be, however, so for the time being, he only bid her farewell, reflecting again on how lovely she was.


Lancelot worked tirelessly at first, but around midafternoon, his sleepless night began to catch up with him. Following that, it was determination rather than energy that kept him going. It was a tedious job, especially considering the size of the royal stables and the impressive number of horses they contained.

Dozens of animals created an unbelievable amount of dung, he quickly realized. He'd always disliked cleaning stables anyway, but back in his village, they were small buildings that held perhaps three or four at a time. They were nothing compared to this.

He kept reminding himself that he should be grateful for the opportunity, especially when covered from head to toe in horse dung, wrinkling his nose at a smell he was quite sure was permanently embedded in his nostrils.

I should feel honored, a monotone voice inside him murmured when the sky began to darken. Exhausted, sore and famished, he'd just realized he still had hours of work to do before he could hope to be finished.

"Lancelot?"

Startled, he turned to find Gwen gazing at him, holding a plate of food in her hands. The scent of roasted chicken filled the air, along with the warm, comforting aroma of fresh baked bread... delicious smells that made him feel almost faint with hunger as his stomach let out an audible growl.

"I-I thought you might be hungry," she said, seeming shy and uncertain. "I'm sure you haven't had a chance to leave the stables, and I was making supper for myself and..."

"It was kind of you to think of me. Yes, I'm starving, but..." he paused, giving the food a wistful look. "I don't want to be caught sitting down to eat while I should be working. Arthur might think..."

"Oh, hang Arthur," she said impatiently, rolling her eyes at him with an appealing smile. "You've been here slaving away since this morning. Have you had a break at all? I bet you haven't even eaten since breakfast."

When he didn't immediately respond, she gave him a knowing look.

"If it would make you feel better, I'll watch at the door and warn you if anyone is coming."

"Thank you, I..." He reached for the plate, then hesitated as he looked down at his filthy hands, stopping to wash them in a pail of fresh water. The moment Gwen had appeared, he'd somehow forgotten that he was covered from head to toe in horse dung. Good lord, I probably smell atrocious.

He felt a rush of embarrassment, followed by a great deal of shame as he realized what a mess he'd made of the clothing she'd spent hours working on the night before. If she was bothered, however, she gave no sign of it, handing him the plate with a gentle smile before she went to keep an eye out as promised.

The food was delicious. He ate ravenously, feeling better than he had in hours by the time he'd finished. With another word of thanks, he walked over to the door to hand her the empty plate.

Forgetting all about how dirty he was, he lingered there, mesmerized all over again by her lovely face. She looked up at him, all big, soft eyes and the faintest trace of a smile dancing around the corners of her mouth.

He should speak... at least try to properly express his gratitude for all her kindness if he couldn't manage anything else. But being so close to her, words became difficult.

She looked as tired as he felt, he noticed with another touch of guilt. He could see the fatigue around her eyes, the slight sag of her shoulders. With that, he had a sudden, almost overpowering urge to wrap his arms around her and let her rest her head against his chest.

No. Even if he were bold enough to try... even if she allowed him to do such a thing, it wouldn't change the fact that he was covered in filth.

"Gwen, you must be tired. You've been losing too much sleep lately for my sake. Please, go home and get some rest."

For a moment, it looked as if she wanted to protest, perhaps to reassure him she was fine or offer something else to ease his mind. But instead, she just nodded in agreement. And then filth and all, she reached out and laid a hand on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Goodnight, Lancelot," she said softly.

"Sleep well, my lady."

He thought of her throughout the evening, at least up until the point where he was so far beyond exhausted he couldn't think at all. After that, he continued working with a grim determination that somehow kept him going until the job was completed.

"How'd it go?" Merlin asked him brightly as he practically staggered into the chamber.

All he could manage in response was a tired grunt.

Somehow managing to make it to the tiny bedchamber, some faint recollection of good manners told him to wash up before bed. Stripping his boots and clothes off with every intention of doing just that, he looked at the pallet on the floor and decided to lay down, just long enough to recover a bit of energy.

He was fast asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.