Two.
I was barely awake the next morning, stumbling about in the stables, when Arthur came bustling in.
"Anyone ever tell you how annoying your morning cheerfulness is?" I griped at him. He only smiled, and handed me a mug of spiced cider, which I took gratefully.
Sipping it, I sat on a pile of tack, closing my eyes. Arthur leaned against the wooden bar we used to tie our mounts to when we rubbed them down, and crossed his arms.
His voice floated to me out of my early morning fog. "Have a good night?"
I cursed under my breath, and drank more cider, opening my eyes.
"Yes," was all I said, and he just smirked at me.
"Barmaids will talk," he said, and I cursed again. His smile widened into a thing of shining white teeth.
"I do have a reputation to uphold," I answered at last, holding my aching head. "Thank you for the drink."
He nodded, then stood up straighter. Our horses were mostly ready, the thoughtful Jols having already loaded them up most of the way. Arthur threw a small pack bag at me, and I caught in my free hand, my eyebrow rising.
"Food – maps – and something you may find you are missing," he said, turning to his horse, leading the white beast gently into the main ring of the stables.
I shook my head in confusion, then opened the bag, digging through the contents.
Pulling out my lion pendant, I slapped a hand to my neck, panicking when it wasn't there.
"Where did you find it?" I asked him, standing myself. He mounted his animal, looking down at me.
"Barmaids will also pick your pocket if you're not careful," he said, then kicked the flanks of his horse. They rode out into the yard, the newly shining sun lighting Arthur's hair with streaks of brown and gold.
He was always a sight to behold on that great white animal.
I fingered my pendant thoughfully. I was angry at myself for not realizing the stupid wench I had spent the night with had gotten my belongings, and I was also angry that Arthur was the one who had had to rescue it for me.
I was somewhat of a ladies man, yes; however, I knew how Arthur felt about such things, and tried for some misguided reason to keep most of it from him.
I blushed, and put the leather thong around my neck.
I drew my own horse into the yard, and mounted up.
We didn't say much for the first half of the day, except to grunt and point in the general direction of where we were going, and we stopped once to water our horses.
Arthur studied his maps while we were waiting for the animals to rest, and at the expression of concentration on his face, I knew better than to try and talk to him.
As the sun made its way across the sky, we arrived at the closest village to Bodaciam, Tore, and pulled up as a young boy waved at us to stop.
"Commander!" he yelled at Arthur, seeing the red of Arthur's cloak. "Our village leaders would be honored if you and your companion would pass the evening with us. We have the best boar in the area," he boasted, and Arthur looked at me. I shrugged. One night out of the saddle would be fine with me.
"Tell your elders we are grateful for the offer, and accept." The boy nodded, a smile on his face, and raced away, presumedly to tell the aforementioned leaders that they would have guests for dinner.
Arthur rode into the center of the small town, and I followed, at his back as ever. The place seemed like any other village in Britain, a few streets making the spokes of a wheel off the main round center.
We dismounted, and tied our horses to a post next to a burbling fountain. It was quiet, and a peaceful air pervaded the spot.
"Quiet," Arthur commented, and I nodded. There were a few women about, some buying things at the market stalls, a few chasing children that ran amok, some of them goggling at Arthur and Excalibur, which would look huge to a child.
One of them pointed at me, and whispered to another child, who's eyes popped at the sight of my blades. It wasn't often villagers saw knights; it was even rarer to see the famous Artorius and his second with the two swords.
A few moments after we had dismounted, three older men made their way through the square and bowed to Arthur. He waved his hand; I knew he disliked such signs of authority, and smirked behind his back.
"Artorius Castus, welcome," the first of them said, tugging on his long grey beard. Arthur inclined his head graciously.
"We thank you for your hospitality. The road is an unwelcome place at night," he said, and indicated me. "My second Lancelot and I are happy to receive your invitation."
I tilted my own head at his words, and they glanced at me curiously. I grinned, and they looked away. Two swords, many scars. Not the most calming of images.
"Yes, well," the first of the men said again, "I am called Seamus, and these are my brothers, Michael and Gabriel." Arthur started at the names, and cocked an eyebrow. "You are Christians?" he asked, surprised.
"No, no, my lord," Seamus laughed. "With eight sons in a family, it is easy to run out of interesting names. My father had read of your holy book and picked names he liked the best from it."
"Ah," Arthur said, relaxing. He rested his hand on the hilt of Excalibur, and smiled. "We would be most grateful for a place to rest before the evening meal," he asked, and the men nodded in unison.
"Follow us, commander," Seamus said; I wondered if he was the only one who could speak.
The other brothers were silent, and seemed fearful of strange things. I tried to smile in a reassuring way at one of them, and he scurried away to catch up with Seamus and Arthur. I shrugged, and followed.
Not much had been normal lately. I was just happy to have a little time away from the garrsion, with Arthur. Even if it was work.
Sighing, I trailed behind the others, slowing as I passed a tiny statue hidden in the corner of the square.
I stopped, looking at it.
It was many armed, and had a sneer on it's face that rivaled any of mine. Swords held in three of it's hands, I thought it a male diety until I noticed the breasts. I blinked, and looked again. She had a necklace around her throat, and I leaned closer.
It was decorated with human skulls.
Shaking my head, I hurried after Arthur, disturbed by the image.
The three brothers lead us to a small room over the kitchen of the only inn type place in the town. They apologized profusely for the size of it, and the presence of only one bed, but Arthur assured them we were just happy to have a roof over our heads. They scraped and bowed as they left, Arthur frowning at the display of acknowledgement of his position.
I laughed as the door shut, and he turned on me, crossing his arms over his chest. I sat on the small bed, barely big enough for a man and woman together on it, much less two soldiers, and began to pull off my boots.
"What is so funny, friend?" he asked crossely, but I noticed he had the sense to sit and take off his own boots and heavy armor.
We both made various grunting noises as we removed our outer shells, and at last I felt more like a human than a giant beetle as I dropped my right gauntlet onto the top of the pile of armor.
"You are so obvious in your dislike of any kind of ass kissing, Arthur," I answered, falling over backward to land on the bed, sighing contentedly as the feather pillow poofed up and cradled my aching head.
"It is not necessary," he threw at me, "I know I am in command; they don't need to make special gestures to let me know they know it as well."
"You will have to put up with it for some time, still," I added, "we have a while left on our term of service."
I closed my eyes, and almost immediately was drawn into a sleepy stupor, until images of that strange figure I had seen in the village square rose in my mind, making me shiver slightly.
"Cold?" Arthur asked. I nodded; actually, I was, now.
I sat up, rubbing the skin of my arms, making the long sleeves of my black linen tunic ride up and down.
"When did you get that?" Arthur said, pointing at a large purple welt on my left forearm. I sighed, and let the sleeve drop.
"Sparring. I let Dagonet get the upper hand. Never again, I can assure you of that," I answered sheepishly, and Arthur guffawed quietly. I raised an eyebrow at him, and rose, standing next to him. I touched the fresh bruise on his cheek, courtesy of Bors, and Arthur's misguided attempts to protect his descisions.
He only smiled, and bent to build up the little fire the inn's owners had started for us.
"Arthur," I started hesitantly, "what do you know of foreign gods?"
He stood back up, and moved to sit at the edge of the bed, rubbing his back and groaning.
I followed, and kneeled behind him, my hands on the muscles of his shoulders.
He shut his eyes, a small moan escaping as I began to work my fingers into the knots in his back, his head dropping forward onto his chest.
"Some," came the muffled reply, "why?"
I thought of the wisdom that might be fleeing the room if I mentioned the statue I had seen.
"…no reason, really. I have some things to think on. When I decide what to ask you, I will."
"That's a strange comment, Lancelot. And a telling one, given the things that have been happening as of late," he said, turning to face me. I forced his head back around, and continued my ministrations. The man had more knots than muscles.
"Don't worry about it, Arthur," I said lightly, keeping the vision of the strange diety in the back of my mind. "I'll tell you when the time is right."
"Yes, you will," he mumbled, his big body loosening under my touch.
Never in my childhood, or subsequent years, did I have a friend like him. He was the only man I would ever willingly walk through the gates of Hell for. And that was saying something.
I finished my work on his back, and moved to lay down, suddenly exhausted myself.
Shutting my eyes, I smiled when I felt him curl up behind me, cupping his larger, warmer body around mine.
We slept, my dreams mixed with images of Arthur and that many armed, bloody goddess I had yet to discover the identity of.
Whatever strange things we had been set upon by in the days previous, I was suddenly sure they had something to do with the unnamed thing in the village square.
Come dinner that evening, I was also sure I would find out just who she was.
The smell of roasting boar is what woke me from my restless slumber, and I sat abruptly, scrubbing a hand over my face. My stomach rumbled, and a sleepy laugh came from behind me.
"I would assume you feel the same?" I said grumpily, standing experimentally. My body was creaky and sore, as I'm sure Arthur's was as well.
"Indeed," he answered, and rose, pulling on the boots he had lined up next to the bed. Ever the organizer. I found mine under my armor, and put them on.
He stretched, his shirt tugging upward as he did, and I stared at the long white scar that crossed his otherwise unmarred belly.
He noticed me doing it, and dropped his arms quickly.
"You told me it didn't scar," I said accusingly.
"I didn't think it would," he answered, turning his back on me, moving to put on his leather overtunic.
"Arthur," I said quietly, "the last thing I would want you to have to remember me by is another mark on your body."
"It was an accident, Lancelot," he answered calmly. "And now look at your skill with the blades."
I shook my head. "It wasn't worth it. If I had known you would have ended up marked, I would never had made you teach me in the first place."
He faced me, and finished lacing up his coat. Striding to me, he cupped my face in his palm, smiling.
"I shall remember you easily, scar or no. It is nothing."
I cleared my throat, a tad uncomfortable at the closeness of his skin to mine. Things were changing between us; I didn't know if he could feel it, but I could. A dangerous thing to be happening on the road, on a mission.
He dropped his hand, a knock on the door breaking the quiet between us.
"Enter," he said, and one of the old brothers, Gabriel, stuck his trembling head in.
"Lord Castus, Lancelot. Dinner is served."
"Arthur, please," Arthur requested, and nodded. "We will be down momentarily."
Gabriel shook his head once, and shut the door.
"Odd folk," I said, and Arthur made a noncommittal noise.
Down to dinner we went.
end part two.