Storm Clouds

Autumn 1088

The stench of shit was overpowering. After days spent in this repugnant world, Godric's senses had almost gotten used to the smell of shit and piss that filled the air around him. The boy sighed and stretched his aching arms. Cleaning Avalon's cesspit, without the aid of magic, was a disgusting chore and Godric would have leaped at the chance to escape it. Yet, this was the penalty for disobeying Lady Morwenna's strict orders to curtail his explorations.

Since Morwenna had discovered their perilous little adventure into the bowels of Avalon's subterranean labyrinth of glittering caves, the three boys had been put through a vigorous regime of duties under the delighted eyes of Avalon's steward. The additional work, slotted between their usual duties, had rendered all three boys so exhausted that it was a substantial effort just to stumble into their beds at night. As the instigator of their misdeeds, the worst tasks had been reserved for Godric. In the long hours he had spent in this stinking hellhole, Godric had sussed out that Morwenna had known instantly whose idea it had been to venture into the darkness beneath Avalon and had punished him accordingly.

Godric had suffered in sombre silence, understanding that having risked the lives of his friends, he deserved the punishment. He couldn't even summon any anger about Lambert's gleeful enjoyment of the situation. After all, the three boys had put the steward through all kinds of hell in the past. Over the last few days, he had been washing and grooming himself as fastidiously as Salazar in a hopeless attempt to remove the stench which seemed to cling permanently to him. Both Hamon and Salazar didn't fare much better, although Godric didn't know for sure what revenge Lambert had allotted for them, as they had barely seen each other since their ill-fated venture.

'Master Godric,' came a call from above him. Godric stepped back from the wooden ladder and looked up to find the pretty handmaiden Rhyannon staring down at him, making a half-hearted attempt to avoid grimacing at the foul world he laboured in. All three squires knew her well, for Rhyannon was a sweet and popular girl. Godric laughed at her reaction,

'Rhyannon,' he hailed her, cleaning his hands on a clean strip of cloth, 'welcome to my humble abode.'

'It's a pleasure,' she told him, her expression saying the complete opposite. Godric chuckled,

'What can I help you with?'

'Lady Morwenna sent me,' she told him hurriedly, eager to be away from the stench, 'she needs your assistance.'

'Why?' Godric asked curiously, frowning at her uncharacteristic insistence.

'Lord Alain has returned from his service with the King,' she gushed, 'they say he is gravely wounded.'

For a moment Godric remained perfectly still, then he launched into action, leaping up the ladder to the trapdoor overhead. He leapt out of the cesspit in such a hurry that he almost sent Rhyannon tumbling.

'Where?' he demanded urgently.

'The great hall,' she said, holding a hand up to cover her nose from the stench radiating from him, 'his retainers have gathered with him. Masters Salazar and Hamon are already there.' She flushed a little at the mention of Salazar but Godric barely noticed. It was no secret that the young maid was fond of Salazar Slytherin. Godric rushed down the corridor, only pausing to ask Rhyannon to meet him in the great hall with a bowl of scented water in which to wash. Then he was off again, hurtling through Avalon's keep, ignoring the servants he almost sent sprawling as they dived away to avoid the young squire.

When he entered the hall, he found it in chaos. Relief washed over him at the sight of seeing the familiar faces of Alain's retinue stalking the hall amidst the gathered household. Not one was missing, although Gervais was sat on a bench, pale-faced and muttering curses as his brother tended to a nasty burn on his arm. Godric quickly located his uncle amidst the chaos in the hall.

Alain sat upon his high seat. As Godric approached, he marvelled at the sight before him. He had never seen his uncle like this. In his eyes, Alain was indestructible. However, this image was now shattered and for the first time Godric realised that his uncle was merely a mortal man like any other.

Alain's skin was grey, and he looked fatigued, sweat streaming from him. Morwenna was kneeling by his side, anxiously scanning the long leg which lay stretched out, upon a bench which was slick with blood. Isolde was by her side, hurriedly explaining her earlier efforts to heal it. Clustered around them stood Lambert, who was speaking in hushed whispers to Hugh. Godric's fellow squires had already arrived, both pale faced. Hamon clutched a large bowl of fresh water at the ready, although the refreshing liquid had long since turned scarlet. More surprisingly was Ella's unexplained presence, especially in such proximity to Morwenna. However, in her husband's need, it appeared the Lady of Avalon had forgotten her testy feud with the whore, for Ella was now whispering advice whilst holding a bundle of dry linen strips. Gone was the usual playful wink she often sent Godric's way to embarrass him and she looked completely serious.

Alain's eyes had been closed as he was tended to by those closest to him. However, they opened as he heard Godric's approach and a tired smile flickered at his lips as he recognised his nephew.

'Godric,' he acknowledged, 'Merlin boy, you grow taller every time I lay eyes on you.' He paused and wrinkled his nose at the horrible stench Godric emitted. Bayard, who was lounging broodingly nearby, suddenly turned away from Godric with a muttered curse,

'God's bollocks, who smells of shit!' The rest of the hall didn't disagree, although Godric noticed Lambert trying to hide a satisfied smile behind his hand as he disappeared towards Avalon's cellar on an errand for Hugh. Even Salazar edged away from his friend, unable to stomach the overwhelming stench.

'He still smells better than you, Bayard' Ella countered waspishly. Fortunately, Rhyannon arrived close on Godric's heel with a bucket of scented water, a clean cloth and a change of clothes. She quickly passed them over to Godric, who rushed to the corner of the room to wash. Rhyannon hastened away with downcast eyes, although she managed to sneak a glance at Salazar, who for once barely returned her smile. Godric returned quickly, having cleansed himself of the worst of it. He returned Alain's smile tentatively.

'You're looking well, Lord.' Alain let out a bark of laughter, which soon turned into a hiss as he accidently shifted his leg. Now the overpowering stench of shit had subsided, Godric could finally smell the bitter scent of infected flesh. Looking over Morwenna's bent head, he saw the wound which caused it and visibly blanched. A deep gash had been carved into his flesh and was slowly leaking a poisonous mix of blood and puss. The skin around it was scabbed and blistered, as if it had been charred. Godric looked on in stunned disbelief whilst Morwenna probed the wound and shook her head furiously,

'You fool,' she chastised her husband sharply. The three boys exchanged looks. They knew that tone; the Lady of Avalon was deeply displeased. They had witnessed it before and were thankful that for once it wasn't directed at them.

'I had no choice,' Alain answered her wearily,

'There's always a choice,' she spat, her eyes never leaving her husband's infected limb. Alain shook his head, unwilling to argue with her in his exhausted state. His refusal to respond caused his wife fume more. Fortunately, she decided to bite her tongue, instead levelling a glowering look at Hugh, 'how did this happen?'

Godric saw Hugh visibly bristle at the unsaid accusation in Morwenna's gaze. Surprisingly, it was Bayard who answered her.

'Bellême,' the big man grunted. Those closest to him fell silent, recognising the name of an infamous wizard. Godric and Salazar exchanged a startled look, the former feeling the recurring flutter of apprehension pulse through his heart at the mention of Bellême. Morwenna was now giving her husband a very hard look, although Godric saw that his fear was mirrored in her eyes as she demanded an explanation. Alain sighed,

'We always knew this could happen,' he said, 'Bellême was with the rebels. Merlin, he was leading most of them. He's got Curthose in his pocket and with that band of savage men at his back, he is a formidable enemy. As soon as this rebellion began there was every possibility that we would cross paths.'

'Did you go looking for him?' Morwenna suddenly demanded sharply. Alain looked astonished,

'Of course not,' he growled, 'what in Merlin's name do you take me for?'

'I know you Alain,' his wife countered, 'I know you better than anyone here. I know what you are like, especially when you feel like you have something…or someone to protect.' Her eyes flickered towards Godric and Salazar. Even in his fatigued state, Alain caught the glance.

'You're right,' he admitted firmly, 'I would confront him if it meant protecting the boys. But they were safe in Avalon, not on the battlefields outside Rorchester. It was Bellême who sought out me.'

'Why?' Morwenna persisted, 'why you?'

'Other than being an unpleasant man, I fear I may have misjudged his thirst for revenge. My squires embarrassed him before the great magnates of the realm. Even a year later, that humiliation rankles deeply. He was bound to seek me out if our paths crossed in battle. Besides,' he paused to consider the meaning in his wife's eyes, 'we already know he can hold a feud.'

Morwenna held his gaze for a long time,

'There was nothing that you could do about that,' she reminded him firmly, soaking a rag in sparkling water and pressing it against Alain's leg. The wound hissed violently, and steam issued from the rag, causing Alain to stiffen and growl in pain. When she finally took the rag away, Alain breathed a sigh of relief.

'He still blames me,' he finally grunted out, his eyes closed and avoiding the stern yet sympathetic glance his wife directed at him. Godric sensed that there was more being said, as if the embarrassment Bellême suffered during the King's coronation was not the only incident being alluded to here. It was obviously a private topic, for even Morwenna chose not to press her husband further. Instead, she returned to her husband's wound as Lambert strode back into the hall, carrying a costrel of uisce beatha, the strongest alcohol stored in Avalon.

Lambert passed the costrel to Alain, who regardless of its burning taste, immediately began gulping down the potent brew like it was the water of life. Morwenna raised an eyebrow at Alain's behaviour, but didn't seek to dissuade or chastise him, recognising that her husband's dulled senses would be a blessing against the pain he would endure as the wound was treated. Emptying the costrel, Alain threw it aside and ordered Hugh to tell the rest of the tale. The scarred warrior had been brooding silently, but he did as Alain bid.

The kingdom had been thrown into chaos as the rebellious barons violently scourged the countryside and rumours of Curthose's invasion sparked fear in every corner of the realm. However, Rufus had reacted quickly and efficiently. With Alain's wise counsel, the King had promised vast rewards for those nobles who remained loyal to him. Then he had set out for the castle of Pevensey at the head of his army, where his traitorous uncle, one of the leading instigators of the rebellion, resided. Alain's retinue had been sent to besiege the castle of Tonbridge. Gilbert Fitz Richard, the baron in charge of the castle's defence, was prepared for a long and bitter siege, but had obviously not expected to be facing Alain of Avalon, the King's Grand Sorcerer.

Despite fierce resistance from the defenders, Alain and his retainers had scaled the walls and forced the garrison to surrender. Alain faced Fitz Richard on the castle walls and wounded him so grievously that it was rumoured the bastard had been forced to relinquish his titles and retreat to a monastery.

Godric's eyes were wide and he was eager for his uncle to expand on the duel. He was disappointed, for Hugh merely stated that they had immediately left to protect the King, who was having difficulties fighting the rebels and wizards led by the imperious Bellême, leaving Tonbridge as a smoking ruin. The rebellious Bellême had led his ruthless band of hardened soldiers on a bloody campaign, ravaging the land with spells and swords. Better to be killed in battle than be taken prisoner by Bellême, for he had a penchant for cruelty and torture. Hastening to the King's side, Alain arrived as the monarch advanced on the stronghold at Rorchester, the centre of rebellious activity. Brutal skirmishing had erupted around the castle as the rebels battled with the King's encroaching forces and much blood had been shed on both sides. It was during one of these skirmishes that Bellême's pack of merciless wolves had fought Alain's retinue.

'We were evenly matched,' Alain admitted drunkenly, although the clench of his jaw indicated how unhappy he was to admit it, 'I instantly started duelling Bellême and it was clear he wanted me dead. Hugh tried to stay beside me, but the press of men was too great. I held my own, but Bellême can wield a sword and wand simultaneously, as well as having a great knowledge of the dark arts. I saw Bellême's spell slip past my guard, then all I remember is the pain. I was thrown to the ground, although the bastard was also bleeding.' He belched loudly and swayed where he sat, his features turning paler as he remembered the duel. Salazar leapt forward to help hold Alain upright until he regained his composure. Alain looked sickened by what had happened,

'I've fought all my life,' he suddenly growled, 'I've fought many duels and defeated better wizards than Bellême, yet if it hadn't been for Hugh I would have died in some shit-filled ditch…'

'That sounds like a familiar tale,' Morwenna said quietly, glancing at Hugh with forgiveness and regret. Hugh met her glance and shook his head. He obviously disagreed with Alain's praise.

'Hugh managed to block Bellême's curse on his shield,' Isolde quietly explained, 'then leapt at Bellême. He almost reached him…'

'Could you have beaten him?' interrupted Salazar, gesturing at Alain's wounded body and sounding unconvinced.

'I would have disembowelled him,' Hugh promised darkly. He stared unblinkingly at Salazar, as if daring the younger boy to dispute it. Godric saw Salazar gulp and accept the truth with a fervent nod. Anyone who argued with Hugh in his present mood was risking both life and limb.

'He certainly made short work of the bastard who got in-between them,' Bayard chuckled darkly.

'It must have been a very dark spell,' murmured Morwenna, her voice quivering as she continued to soak Alain's wound in water drawn from Avalon's magical pools, 'I dare not consider what spell he tried to use to kill you'.

'It made quick work of my shield,' Hugh admitted with a grunt, 'melted it. Wood, leather, and iron were gone in a few heartbeats. It bypassed the protective wards as if they were cast by a mere child'. He was rubbing his left forearm as he finished. Ella's sharp eyes caught the action,

'You're injured,' she said pointedly. Morwenna looked up sharply, 'Yusuf!'

The scholar stepped up to dais,

'Please fetch my herbs and salves, maybe a few of your own as well. If Bellême's spell was as dark as I suspect, then I will need to see Hugh's wound as soon as I am finished here.'

'Certainly, Lady.' As Yusuf scuttled away, Hugh tried to protest,

'Lady, it is nothing…'

'Don't be absurd,' she snapped at him harshly, 'Do you want to be known as Hugh One-Hand for the rest of your life?'

Hugh simply glowered, but did not reply.

'Stop making a nuisance of yourself. Sit down and finish your tale,' Morwenna commanded. Hugh remained silent, his features darkening. Hamon took a step away from his father, keen to not be associated with Hugh's stubborn resolve. Morwenna glanced at him again. With a displeased grunt, Hugh backed down first and seated himself at the large table, scowling at the stifled sniggers that ruffled through the hall. Only Bayard dared to laugh openly and even this was done in a subdued manner.

'Lord Alain, despite the wound, insisted we should stay long enough to see the rebel's defeated,' Hugh ultimately continued, rubbing his face wearily, 'Rumours eventually drifted in that Curthose had abandoned the rebels. With no support, the rebel's surrendered. Rufus was lenient. Only his uncle was banished whilst the rest of the vipers were accepted back into the fold, Bellême amongst them. By this time, Lord Alain's wound was festering and despite Isolde's best efforts, the King deemed it necessary for him to return to Avalon. As soon as the King gave us leave, we rode here as swiftly as we could.'

The older inhabitants of the hall breathed out a sigh of relief at the news that the rebellion had been crushed. Godric, Salazar and Hamon shared a look, holding back a groan of disappointment.

'Foolish man,' Morwenna breathed, shaking her head at her husband's stubbornness, 'if you had the sense to heal this properly then you may have been able to avoid infection. If the curse had bitten deeper, then you could have been crippled, or worse. You'll certainly be limping for quite some time.' Alain shrugged drunkenly,

'I've been crippled since the day I became Lord of Avalon,' he said tiredly,

'Do you regret it?' Morwenna challenged him.

'Never,' he chuckled, smiling fondly, 'you were bathing in the pool beside the hanging willow…' Morwenna slapped his leg, right where his flesh was bruised and reddened, causing Alain to roar in agony. It achieved her goal of silencing him, although the bright blush which flooded the usually demure woman's face betrayed her chagrin at her husband's drunken rambling. Godric couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him, and it was joined by many others. Ella's feline smile had returned, as if she didn't quite believe her luck.

As Alain groaned in pain, Morwenna returned her attention to his wound with added vigour and it wasn't long before she stood and claimed that she done all she could for now to cleanse the leg of the poisons which infected it. Binding it in clean linens, she signalled for someone to help Alain to his private chamber so that he could rest, although when Hugh stood she snapped at him to stay still so that she could tend to his wounds. This duty fell to Alain's squires, who helped lead Alain to his bedchamber and saw to his needs. They tried to ignore his drunken ramblings, often having to bite their tongues to avoid laughing as he chortled and cursed about old stories stirred from the mists of time. However, as they were leaving, Alain caught Godric's attention as the young boy was about to step over the threshold.

'Godric,' Alain blurted out, his bleary eyes searching the chamber hazily before fixing upon the young boy, 'I almost forgot, I saw your father recently'. Godric frowned before asking emotionlessly.

'You did, Lord?'

'Aye,' Alain continued tiredly, 'despite his faults your father's still a loyal man, especially to the King. He was in good spirits, so good that he didn't even seem to mind my presence.' Godric merely stared at Alain questioningly. His lack of response caused Alain to sigh deeply,

'His wife is pregnant.'

Emotionally, the words struck Godric like a sword-blow, although outwardly his stoic expression remained unchanged. Pregnant! In his drunken state, Alain didn't seem to sense the tempest of emotions doing battle in Godric's mind.

'I'm sorry, but he made no mention of you, or showed any interest in knowing how you fared,' he paused for a moment, smiling sadly, 'however, I was approached by your father's man, Siward isn't it? I suspect it was done in secret, but he appeared honest in his motivations. He was pleased to hear how well you were progressing in Avalon and wanted you to know that he looks forward to seeing the man you will become.'

Godric still looked unmoved and he didn't reply as Alain slowly drifted off to sleep after a response wasn't forthcoming. Yet, when he finally made to leave, he heard Alain raise his voice again,

'By the way, go and bathe. I can't have my squires stinking of shit!'

At last, this brought a faint smile to Godric's lips as he slipped into the dark hallway. The smile slowly vanished as he made his way back to his own sleeping quarters. The news of the impending pregnancy had instantly robbed him of any wish he may have had to seek out Alain's retainers and listen to their tales of war.

In the privacy of his own chamber, he felt a restlessness surge deep within him. He was wallowing in rage. His wand, nestled in his belt, sparked in response to the sudden rush of emotions and he felt a hatred for the man who had maimed his uncle.

Bellême. The warrior who had beaten and bullied him; whose visage so resembled the jeering, blood-stained knight who haunted his dreams. Godric's rage begged for release and he promised that he would drive himself to exhaustion until he was powerful enough to defeat Bellême.

Godric turned and with a sudden grunt, struck the wall so hard the blow left a small dent in the wooden wall. He felt a stinging hatred for his father also, but this was tempered and cold, less heated than the boiling fury he reserved solely for Bellême. His father was to have another child. Godric was going to have a sibling. His father thought nothing of sharing his celebratory news with strangers, yet of Godric he wished to know nothing. Godric's head hung down and he felt the fresh stirrings of the loss he hadn't felt since first reaching Avalon's gates. If the child was a son, then he would be disinherited and forbidden from setting foot in his childhood home for fear that he would attempt to oust his brother.

Godric collapsed upon the feathered bed, his head in his hands. His anger simmered away. Faint wisps of half-hearted jealousy for this unborn child were conjured in his heart, but he quickly dismissed them. He couldn't hate an innocent child for the crimes and prejudices of its father. Whether his mother-in-law gave birth to a son or a daughter, Godric decided it mattered little. If the opportunity arose, then he would be there for this unknown child, like William had once been and like how Salazar and Hamon were there for him now. Godric sighed as he slipped into sleep. His dreams were troubled for many nights.