Title: Forever More
Author: Red Pollard
Author's Note: I'm about to leave for London and I really want to work
on my story while I'm there so I'm trying to figure out a way to do it
while I'm gone. Please forgive me if this chapter isn't as well
written. OH and seeing as I finally got to the part of the story that
is actually in the movie and book, I will be using much information
and description and facts that they used in the book since I reallllly
need it. I'm just restating what happened. My ideas will come later.
But you really can't just go on without knowing what happens in
between the beginning and my ideas so I'm summarizing what happens in
the chapters in the books. Kinda. I think. I'm giving a whole lot of
deserved credit to Frank Thompson. Don't kill me.
Disclaimer: I don't own King Arthur, or Lancelot who I so wish I did,
but I do with Kera.
Chapter 7:‡Freedom Delayed‡
Riding back over a field littered with corpses both of
Woads and Roman legionnaires, Arthur and his knights turned their
focus towards the coach which they had almost forgotten about.
Tristran whispered softly to the carriage horses. They immediately
calmed down. Lancelot yanked aside the canvas that hung over the
carriage openings. Inside was the body of a man dressed in blood
soaked ecclesiastic garment, an arrow protruding from his chest.
"Here's a disgusting mess," Bors said, crinkling his nose
in distaste. "I sure hope that's not the bishop there that's dead."
Arthur rode over and examined the body. Then shaking his
head he answered his men.
"This isn't the bishop."
One of the few remaining Roam legionnaires let out a hardy
laugh. Taking off his shiny helmet, he revealed a man that didn't seem
to be a soldier. He looked to be in his early 50s with graying hair.
His dark brown eyes were small and mistrustful.
"Artorius!" he laughed. "You haven't lost your ways."
Arthur grinned ever so slightly.
"Bishop Germanus," he said bowing, "you still have your
tricks."
Bors caught sight of a slight movement at his feet.
Bending down he saw Horton huddling beneath the carriage, praying,
weeping, and trembling. Pulling him out by his collar, Bors generously
helped him to his feet. Horton whimpered and raised his hands to his
chest, mumbling some Latin prayer. Bors curiously cocked his head to
one side.
"Now does that really work?" he asked, folding his hands
together in the same prayer and mumbling. After a moment he stopped.
"Nothing."
The knights laughed loudly. But Horton stood straighter,
as he tried to withstand the insult. Brushing himself off, he wiped at
his red swollen eyes. Gawain had been riding around the field
surveying the dead and finally returned to the other knights.
Dismounting he kicked aside a dead Woad. Horton leaped back. The blue
creatures still scared him as much as they had alive, yelling and
screaming, and now while their decapitated bodies rolled around.
"God help us," he cried crossing himself. "What are they?"
"Devils," Bors said with a malicious gleam in his eyes,
"who eat Christians alive. You're not Christian are you?"
Horton gasped and crossed himself several more times,
mumbling several more Latin prayers. Bors laughed and imitated the man
again.
"What are they...really?"
"They are called Woads," Bors said.
Horton looked confused.
Sighing Bors rolled his eyes and explained, "Britons who
hate Rome."
"What do they want?" Horton ventured to ask.
With a steely voice, Lancelot answered.
"They want their country back."
Arthur lifting his sword slightly in a salute to the bishop. A broad
smile formed on Germanus's face.
"Lucius Artorius Castus! Your father's image! I have not seen you
since childhood."
Arthur bowed and said, "Bishop Germanus. Welcome to Britain. Are you
injured?"
Bishop Germanus shook his head and held up his sword proudly.
"I was able to keep the demons away from me," he said. "And thank God
I was no forced to shed any of their evil blood."
Looking around him with a touch of arrogance, he sniffed at the bloody
corpses of Woads scattered across the field.
"I thought the Woads' control only extended north of Hadrian's Wall,"
he said prodding a dead body with the tip of his sword.
"Occasionally they venture south of the Wall," Arthur said. "They know
that Rome is anticipating its withdrawal from Britain, and that has
only increased their fervor to terrorize."
Germanus scoffed at the idea of Rome retreating from Britain but
continued on.
"Who leads these miscreants?"
Lancelot replied, with a cynical edge in his voice, "He is called
Merlin. A dark magician some say."
Arthur waved his hand at the now battered carriage. "Your Eminence, if
it pleases you," he said. "We have a long journey ahead of us, and we
should get moving."
Germanus nodded and dismounted his horse. Walking over to the carriage
he stepped inside just as Bors and Dagonet dragged the bishop decoy
out the other side and dumped him quite unceremoniously on the side of
the rode, just one more corpse among many.
Arthur turned away from the carriage to Tristran and said, "Tristran,
ride ahead and make sure the road is clear."
Tristran nodded and rode away. Then turning to his knights, Arthur
gestured, making a circular motion with his hand. The knights
immediately responded and moved into a protective circle around the
carriage. Germanus poked his head out quickly from the coach and said
to Arthur, "Tell me true, is there danger of another attack from the
Woads?"
Arthur shook his head.
"They run in packs, these Woads," he said. "A dozen here, two dozen
there. Even if they return, they will be no match for my knights."
Germanus nodded. "I have no doubt."
As the caravan and the knights rode through the massive Hadrian's
Wall, not one of the men could hide their enthusiasm for it was the
bishop himself that held their release papers. Arthur rode ahead of
his men, leaving Gawain, Galahad, Bors, Tristran, and Lancelot to
cheer among themselves. A wrinkle appeared across Galahad's face as he
frowned.
"If he is here to discharge us, why doesn't he just give us the
orders?" he said cocking his head towards the coach.
Gawain shook his head and patted Galahad on the shoulder.
"Is this your happy face, Galahad?" he laughed. "The Romans can do
nothing without a ceremony."
"Why don't you just cut his throat first, Galahad," Bors suggested
helpfully, "and discharge yourself after."
Galahad frowned even more.
"I will if it comes to that."
Near the back of the group, Tristran held up his arm just as a large
gray hawk swooped down from the sky. Perching upon his outstretched
arms she let out a small breath and ruffled her feathers.
"Where have you been now, old girl?" Tristran said in a low soothing
voice.
"When I get home," Gawain said," the first thing I will do is find a
beautiful Sarmatian woman to wed."
Bors looked at him skeptically.
"A Sarmatian woman? That's the whole reason why we left!"
An echo of laughter rippled through them.
"And what of you, Lancelot?" Bors added. "What are your plans for
home?"
"Well, if this woman of Gawain's is as beautiful as he claims,"
Lancelot said, "I expect to be spending a lot of time at Gawain's
house. His wife will welcome the company no doubt."
"And where will I be?' Gawain said in mock outrage.
"Wondering at you good fortune that all your children look like me!"
Lancelot said with a grin as he spurred his horse to a trot towards
Arthur.
Arthur turned in acknowledgement of Lancelot.
"What of you, Arthur?" asked Lancelot.
"Come tomorrow, I make my own plans for Rome," Arthur said with a
satisfied sigh.
"ROME!" Lancelot exclaimed. "And what will you do, Arthur, when you
return to your 'beloved' Rome?"
"Give thanks to God, Lancelot, that I survived to see it," answered
Arthur.
"Ugh! You and your God!" Lancelot said. "You disturb me."
For that moment, Arthur's dark mood had passed. These fifteen long
years were almost over and he would finally be able to feel optimistic
for a reason.
"Peace, Lancelot. I want peace. I have had enough of killing."
As they stopped inside the fortress, Germanus stepped out from the
carriage and almost stepped right back in. People flocked towards the
knight in praise. Disgusted, he wrinkled his nose and eyed the meager
surroundings. Only the Pope could have made him come to such an unholy
place.
Arthur motioned to the squire at his side.
"Jols," he said, "give the bishop my quarters."
The bishop nodded a not-so-humble thanks before walking away.
Inside Arthur's chamber, Germanus was scrutinizing everything inside.
Running a finger along the mantle of the fireplace, he sniffed when he
found dust. Horton was unpacking their bags behind him.
"Very kind of Arthur to give up his room," Horton said.
Germanus did not reply but only rolled his eyes.
"But of course it was no more than should have been expected," Horton
hastily corrected after a moment of silence.
Continuing his search, Bishop Germanus came to a small ceramic
portrait of Pelagius. His face grew red as his hands closed in on the
ceramic piece. This 'Pelagius' was considered a heathen in Rome who
pretended to be a Christian priest. But in truth, he only spread
blasphemous beliefs of the pagans. He felt infuriated to know that
Arthur had studied with Pelagius back in Rome, and that such a
talented and clear minded boy was being polluted with dangerous ideas
of free will and that a man could save himself through his own
integrity rather than of God. Chucking the ceramic piece at the wall,
Germanus smiled fiendishly as it cracked into several pieces.
The tension in the room was shattered when a knock sounded against the
door. It was Jols.
"Your Eminence, I am here to escort you to the fortress hall," he
said.
The bishop nodded gruffly and shoved past the squire. Horton watched
his master recede down a hall.
"When my master meets with your knights he must be seated last and he
must be seated at the head of the table," Horton commanded haughtily
and jogged after the bishop.
Jols grinned broadly at the idea before adding quietly to himself,
"Your master may sit his holy arse wherever he chooses."
Arthur was the last to enter the hall. His knights looked up to see
that he was wearing full Roman military attire with short skirt,
leather-thonged boots and cape. As usual when they saw him like this,
the knights were impressed by his splendor and were filled with great
pride. Lancelot bowed reverently and said, "Hail Arthur!" The others
followed suit raising their goblets.
Suddenly, the rusty creak of the hall door broke their cheerfulness.
Two heavily armored Roman guards ushered in Bishop Germanus followed
at a respectable distance by Jols and Horton.
Gawain leaned to his side and whispered into Galahad's ear, "See?
Ceremony."
As Horton first caught sight of the round table he inhaled sharply.
"A round table? What sort of evil is this?"
Jols chuckled and replied, "Arthur says that for men to be men, they
must first be equal."
Bishop Germanus disguised his disapproval and sat down.
"I was given to understand there would be more of you," he said
naively.
Arthur blinked several times in surprise at the Bishops narrow-
mindedness.
"We have been fighting here for fifteen years. There were once many
more of us."
Germanus realized his blunder to late.
"Ah. Of course. My condolences."
Lancelot retorted to the lack of heartfelt apology.
"And what brings a bishop all this way to deliver freedom to
'servants' of Rome?"
Germanus glared angrily at Lancelot, insulted by being addressed so
familiarly by a common knight. But seeing Arthur's expression, he
pulled a very fake smile onto his face and answered.
"I volunteered. I considered it a rare chance to meet such great men
and to serve my Pope. I could not be more grateful, I assure you."
He nodded to Horton who quickly stepped aside as the Roman guards came
in carrying a large wooden case. Lifting his goblet, Germanus stood
up.
"To you noble knights and your final days as servants to the Empire."
Lancelot whispered to Bors, "Shouldn't that be day... not days?"
Bors looked back at him with suspicion.
"Alas we are all but players in an ever-changing world," Germanus said
changing his tone of voice to subservient. "Barbarians from every
corner are almost at Rome's door. Because of this, Rome and the Holy
Father have decided to remove ourselves from indefensible outposts
such as Britain."
He shrugged casually, "I suppose the Saxons will claim it soon."
Lancelot instantly sensed an ambush. All the knights raised their
heads to listen more carefully.
Arthur said, "Saxons?"
"Yes," Germanus replied, weary of having to repeat himself. "In the
north a massive Saxons incursion has begun."
Lancelot furrowed his brows and gripped the edge of the table.
"Saxons only claim what they kill."
Gawain nodded emphatically and continued with Lancelot's thought.
"And they only kill everything that crosses their path. It would take
an entire legion to defeat them."
"Indeed," Germanus said not really caring. "Gentlemen, here are your
discharge papers."
The knights leaned forward in anticipation as the bishop opened the
wooden case. Inside were seven white scrolls neatly tucked into the
purple velvet. They could almost taste the freedom on their tongues.
But Germanus shut the box and handed it back to one of the guards.
"But first I must have a word with your commander."
The knights leaned back in their seats, exasperated. But they made no
protest nor did they make any motion of leaving the room.
"In private," Germanus added.
"We have no secrets," said Arthur.
Germanus tapped his foot on the ground and waited expectantly.
Lancelot was the first to stand, although his expression was one of
deep suspicion.
"Come," Lancelot said. "It is better we leave the Roman business to
the Romans."
The room was now empty except the bishop, Arthur, and the two Roman
guards.
"Rome has issued a final order for you and your men."
Arthur looked confused.
"Their term is up. You came here with the papers that would free them.
What do you mean 'final order'?"
Germanus couldn't help let a smile creep across his face.
"But please understand that this request comes directly from the
Pope."
Arthur stared distrustfully at Germanus but was prepared to listen. An
order form the Pope was not to be taken lightly no matter how wrong it
was.
"You are to travel north to rescue the family of Marius Honorius."
The words hit Arthur like a slap in the face. Gritting his teeth, he
listened on, his hands clutching into fists.
"And return with Marius's son, Alecto. He is of much importance. For
that very reason, he was sent to Britain for safety. But with the
Saxons approaching, the small legion with him cannot withstand."
Arthur's mouth hung open in disbelief.
"Alecto is the Pope's favorite godchild and pupil," Germanus
continued. "He is destined to become a bishop and maybe pope as well.
I am to be his teacher, patron on his path to the papal seat."
Arthur had never trusted Germanus, but he never knew that the bishop
had such cruel intentions. Everything had actually been meant only for
the benefit of the bishop.
"How do I go to those brave men and tell them that now instead of
freedom I offer death? Those who have risked their lives fighting for
a cause that was never their own?" he asked with a steely voice.
"If your men are truly the knights of legend, this should be no more
than a final adventure for them before freedom. Your men want to go
home. And to get home they need to cross the entire breadth of the
Roman empire. That should be no more dangerous that what the Pope asks
of now."
Arthur turned away in disgust.
"Will you defy the Pope, Arthur?" Germanus said smiling all the time,
enjoying this moment of torture. "Rome? God himself?"
"You questions my faith?" Arthur interrupted bitterly. "I would not
defy my God. Do not mistake a loyal soldier for a fool."
"Do this Arthur," Germanus said earnestly. "It will please the Pope.
You will save a valuable young man...and you have no other choice."
Arthur sat down on a chair, seething with fury and despair. He dug his
nails deep into his palm drawing blood.
"Fufill this mission and your men will receive their discharge. The
papers will be waiting here the moment they return. You have my word."
Arthur stood up and answered coldly, "Keep your word," he said in a
low, rumbling voice, "or I will have your head."
Germanus grinned one last time, revealing yellowed teeth, before
turning away and leaving the room. Arthur bent down onto his knees,
folding his hands together. The wind moaned through the draft hall as
if it were the voice of an angered God.
"Fill me with your strength, my God," Arthur whispered desperately.
"Help me vanquish all who stand in the way of that freedom my knights
so justly deserve."
And for that moment, Arthur cried. His lips still formed the words of
a prayer, but no more sound came out, as his hands clasped tighter
together, blood trickling down his arm.
Author's Note: Done with Chapter 7. arggggggg.