A/N: Thank you thank you thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I'm not going to do responses tonight because I just got home from workie and I'm really tired and just wanted to get this posted before going to bed. Unfortunately I must be up very very early tomorrow for my Extension English class. Don't know why I chose it… Anyway, please oh pretty please leave a review for me to read when I get home from school tomorrow! Hope you like this chappie…
Summary: Years after the battle on Badon Hill, Lancelot has resigned himself to a loveless life, ever watching from the sidelines. But his hope is slowly restored when he meets a young woman, who fills his life with light, like the rising of the moon.
Crescent Moon
By katemary77
Chapter Seven: Fair Regent of the NightAnd
hail their queen, fair regent of the night.
- Erasmus
Darwin, Botanic Garden (pt. I, canto II, l. 90)
The next morning Corin woke to the soft pitter patter of raindrops and the pounding headache of a hangover. After a momentary lapse of utter confusion, Corin soon recognised that not only was the thumping in her head, but on her door as well.
Grumbling to herself about rude awakenings, Corin stumbled out of bed, threw her pale cloak over her nightdress and swung the door open. "What on Earth do you – oh… Tristan…" Clutching her robe tighter around her, Corin stepped back and allowed the silent scout to enter her room. "Was something the matter?"
A short look of consternation crossed the knight's face, before he reverted back to his usual stoicism. "My hands," he muttered vaguely, hazel eyes flicking to hers. "You said you could do something…"
Corin nodded and realised that she was going to have to take the initiative in this situation. "Right, yes, come with me." Slipping on some shoes, Corin grasped Tristan by his upper arm and directed the knight out of her room and down the hall, to a medium-sized room the King had set up for Corin. She set Tristan down on a stool by a large bench and immediately began scrounging around in one of the many cupboards for one of the ointments she knew was in there.
"Here it is!" she cried jubilantly, pulling out a dark greenish looking balm and setting it upon the bench. Retrieving some thick bandages from a drawer, Corin sat across from the scout and set to work.
"Now," she told him, as she rubbed the salve into his callused palms, "this needs to be done each day, so you will come to me every morning and I shall do it for you, yes?"
Tristan nodded grudgingly, his gaze fixed on her nimble fingers as they deftly bound his hands tightly with the strips of material she had dug up earlier.
"I'm binding it so you can still use your hands, but do not take them off unless you are going to put them straight back on, okay?"
"Okay," he said gruffly. "What's the balm that you're using?"
"It's one I used to make back at the temple," she told him. "We'd all use it after we had gone hunting, that way our hands never managed to become like yours are." She chuckled. "For someone who uses his hands so much, you certainly don't take care of them."
Tristan shrugged. "I never knew to."
"Well, we have amended that."
"Will I still be able to arch?" he asked apprehensively.
She laughed again. "Yes, of course, I know better than to separate a warrior from his weapons."
Tristan chortled. "I won't ask how you came to learn that."
Corin smiled, her eyes glinting mischievously in remembrance. "Yes, and you are better for it, for it is a long and gruesome tale."
Tristan broke into a seldom-seen smile. "My lady, I find it difficult to believe anything concerning you could be named gruesome."
Corin patted his cheek affectionately once she had tied the final knot. "You waste your flattery, Sir Tristan, for I know you only have eyes for your bird. Besides," she added seriously, giving his bound hands a gentle squeeze, "I need no compliments to help a friend."
Standing, Corin crossed to the many shelves that were stacked against the wall and replaced the green balm.
"Come back tomorrow morning," she told the knight over her shoulder, "and I shall redress your hands. And then perhaps after," she added, turning to face Tristan, "we can go down and practice on the archery field."
He nodded his consent and made his way to the door. "Of course, Lady Corin, I look forward to it."
She smiled brightly. "It is a date, then."
Tristan chuckled lightly and stepped out of the room only to pause briefly on the threshold. "I would appreciate if you could – if you would – "
"Confidentiality is an essential aspect of healing," Corin interjected smoothly, bringing her cornflower eyes to gaze deep into Tristan's. "If you wish it, I will not tell a soul."
"I wish it," he said gratefully. "I just don't want the others to think – "
"You need not explain yourself to me, Tristan."
He nodded shortly. "Thank you, Corin."
-
-
-
Changing into her breeches and a light shirt, Corin grabbed the beautifully carved bow Jols had given her and headed down to the archery range. She wasn't surprised to see Tristan there with his bow, already adjusting to the bindings she had placed on his hands. But she was surprised, however, to find Galahad and Lancelot sparring in the middle of the court with wooden swords, in front of a large group of young boys.
The teens were watching avidly as with each stroke, Lancelot advanced upon his younger opponent, who, while brilliant with his sword, was no match for the god-like Lancelot. Watching him move in graceful circles, each thrust, parry, or block as effortless and precise as the next, Corin was reminded of the heroes of old, Theseus and Achilles and Hector.
The mock-battle soon ended, though, when Lancelot tripped Galahad onto the ground, the tip oh his wooden sword coming to rest at the other knight's throat. "Surrender?"
Rolling his eyes, Galahad pushed the sword away and jumped up, grumbling under his breath about poncy show-offs and the like.
Wiping sweat from his brow, Lancelot addressed the boys before him. "Get yourselves into pairs and grab a sword from the pile over there. Galahad and I will take you through some drills." Turning, he spotted the young Greek girl who was standing off to the side, a loose smile on her face. "Corin! What are you doing down here?" In answer, she held up her bow. Lancelot scoffed. "As if you need to practice."
She shrugged. "I was also looking for you."
"Oh? And why would that be?"
"Well, seeing as I'm all better now, I thought it only fair that you hold up your end of the deal," she told him, and her blue eyes flickered over to the boys who had begun to tentatively spar with each other. "But I can see you're a little busy."
The knight nodded. "These young gentlemen have aspirations to be knights one day," Lancelot explained, "and seeing as though he wants them to be the best, Arthur thought it fit to have even better teaching them. Perhaps you would like to join the group?"
Corin, laughing at Lancelot's arrogance, thought for a moment. "Sure."
Grinning, Lancelot threw her his sword and ran quickly to retrieve another. When he got back, Corin smiled wryly up at him. "Should I be scared?"
"I would be," Galahad muttered as he stalked past them, examining the young men sparring around the courtyard.
"Am I holding this thing properly?" Corin asked, glancing down dubiously at the sword in her hands.
Lancelot shook his head. "Hold it a little tighter, and move your hand down on the hilt."
"Like that?" she replied, adjusting her grip.
Lancelot nodded. "That's fine."
Slowly, the knight led her through a few simple drills, and once she became more confident with blocking and parrying against his blade, Lancelot upped his attack, now openly sparring with her. Corin's eyes widened slightly in apprehension when she recognised the knight was no longer following his own drill pattern, but she took this in her stride and did her best to keep up with her formidable opponent.
But after a few more minutes, the Greek's arms were growing heavy, tired from constantly swinging the sword to block Lancelot's attack. Suddenly, Corin tripped on a small rock and lost her footing and in an attempt to regain her balance reached out and grasped Lancelot's tunic, unintentionally pulling the knight down with her. With a loud "Oof!" Lancelot landed heavily on top of Corin. Chuckling, he rested his head on her shoulder momentarily before bringing it up to gaze at Corin.
Her eyes were wide, her breath coming in shallow gasps, and her heart racing beneath her chest, the weight of a man atop her sickeningly familiar.
At first, Lancelot dismissed Corin's behaviour akin to the behaviour of every other woman who had found herself pinned underneath the handsome knight, but soon recognised the look in Corin's eyes not as desire or lust, but sheer terror.
…She was suffocating, his sweaty hands groping at her face as she screamed from the flames erupting in her abdomen, her hands pulling desperately on the chains that shackled her wrists…
"…Welcome to Briton," the one who had bought her sneered, staining her pure virginal robes with her own dark red blood. "Do what you want with her," he directed at his men, before spitting on her face and stalking out of the room. "Greek slut…"
…She turned her face at the slightest noise, and they came to rest upon a young man who was standing at the door, looking on at the brutality the Romans were inflicting upon her, and as his deep black eyes flicked up to her face, they glinted with uncontrolled rage and she felt a shudder pass down her spine before she turned her gaze away…
…He was dead and still lying atop her, and she cried and screamed, frenziedly trying to rid herself of his sweaty, clammy corpse before even more blood wept onto her vestal robes and she was stained irrevocably…
"Corin."
She snapped out of her trance and looked back to Lancelot.
Grimacing, he rolled off Corin and onto his feet, offering her his hand. Hesitantly, Corin accepted and stood, and Lancelot was just opening his mouth to ask if she was okay when a pain-filled cry shattered the courtyard.
Hurrying over, Lancelot and Corin parted the crowd to find Galahad kneeling beside a redheaded boy who looked as if he were trying desperately not to cry. "Lincoln," Galahad informed the newcomers. "One of Bors's. Tripped and fell."
Corin nodded and knelt down to examine the boy's right leg, which was swelling rapidly. Running her fingers gently over the bone, she frowned as Lincoln let out a loud gasp. "His bone is broken," she informed the two knights. "Galahad, go and find Vanora and Bors." Nodding, the young knight sprinted off to find Lincoln's parents. "He cannot walk," Corin told the remaining knight. "Would you carry him?"
With a grim smile, Lancelot gathered Lincoln into his arms and they rushed hurriedly into the castle. By the time they had reached Corin's healing room, Lincoln was sobbing quietly, his face contorted in pain. Corin directed Lancelot to lay Lincoln on one of the cots situated at the end of the room.
"It hurts," the boy whimpered quietly, and Corin bent down over him, pushing his crimson locks off his forehead.
"I know it does, darling," she murmured, "but you have to be a brave knight for me, like your Pa, okay?"
Lincoln nodded and grasped the bed sheets tightly with his hands, his sobs quieting.
"Good boy," Corin smiled, before crossing hastily to the stone benches. "Lancelot, light the stove over there and fill that pot half with water and put it on the flame," she ordered as she pulled out various herbs from her collection and crushed them with a smooth stone pestle.
The knight complied, and soon Corin had added her mixture of herbs to the boiling water and had administered the tea to Lincoln, directing him to drink it. Almost the second after the cup had touched the boy's lips, Bors, Vanora and Galahad burst into the room. Vanora rushed over to the child, while her husband followed more composedly.
"Oh, my sweetling, are you alright? How do you feel?" Vanora gushed, running her hands over Lincoln's face.
"I'm fine Mama," he replied. "It just hurts a little, is all."
Nodding, Vanora turned to Corin. "How is his leg?"
"Broken," Corin informed her. "I've given him a herbal tea to reduce the pain and help Lincoln sleep, I'd rather not touch the break while he is awake, it would be painful for him. Drink," she reminded the boy gently.
Nodding, Lincoln brought the cup to his lips once more and downed the drink in a few hearty gulps, grimacing at the odd taste. Soon, after some tender coaxing from Vanora, the child was peacefully asleep and Corin began to make a poultice for the boy, while his loving parents watched over him devotedly.
-
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-
Hours later, when the castle had settled into placid evening, Corin returned to her small surgery to check on Lincoln and his mother, who had opted to stay the night in one of the many beds.
She entered the room with two bowls of broth for mother and son, and found that Lincoln had wakened and was being sung to sleep by his mother. This seemed to be a routinely thing, for soon Lincoln was demanding his favourite.
"Sing that one about the boat, Mama, the one that goes to the Mountain."
Vanora nodded and sung in her high, lilting voice a chilling lullaby that sent shivers down Corin's spine.
"A gentle breeze from hushabye mountain
Softly
blows o'er lullaby bay
It fills the sails of boats that are
waiting
Waiting to sail your worries away
It
isn't far to hushabye mountain
And your boat waits down by the
key
The winds of night so softly are sighing
Soon they will fly
your troubles to sea
So close your eyes on hushabye mountain
Wave
goodbye to cares of the day
And watch your boat from Hushabye
Mountain
Sail far away from lullaby bay."
"That was a beautiful song, Vanora," Corin said quietly as she entered the room, setting the food she carried atop the table.
"Thank you," the mother of thirteen replied. "It's one my mother used to sing to me when I was a child."
"It's no use," Lincoln said gravely. "I just can't get to sleep."
Vanora sighed. "Perhaps Corin will tell you a tale of her homeland," she suggested, for she knew her child had a love for legends and tales.
"Oh, yes!" the boy pleaded. "Would you, Lady Corin?"
Corin smiled sweetly. "Of course. What would you like to hear about?"
"Blood!" he demanded. "And war!"
Vanora tutted and shook her head. "You're to much like your father, you are," she scolded. "Something a little milder, perhaps, Corin."
Corin surveyed the protective woman in front of her and grinned. "I have just the story. I shall tell you of Persephone and Hades, King and Queen of the Underworld, land of the dead. How does that sound, Lincoln?"
The injured boy nodded enthusiastically.
"Alright," Corin began, smoothing her skirt with her hands. "There was once a Goddess named Persephone, and she was so beautiful that everybody was in love with her, even the bitter Hades, lord of the dead, who loved nothing and wanted her for himself. One day, Hades spied Persephone collecting flowers on the plains of Enna, and he rose up from the earth and abducted her, whisking her away on his black-horsed chariot to Tartarus."
Lincoln grinned impishly, delighted by the story.
"Broken hearted, Demeter, Persephone's mother, wandered the earth searching for her beloved daughter until the sun-god Helios, who sees all, revealed what had happened. Blind with anger, Demeter, who ruled over the Earth, lay a curse upon the land so that the plants withered and died and nothing would grow or bloom.
"Understanding that this could not last any longer, Zeus sent Hermes down to make Hades release Persephone and return her to her mother, but the beautiful Persephone had eaten the ruby seeds of a pomegranate, and thus was bound to the underworld for the rest of eternity."
"And then what happened?" Lincoln asked, weariness already claiming his small body.
"Well, Zeus forced a pact between Hades and Demeter, that Persephone would spend one-third of the year below the Earth with Hades, and the other months she would spend in the light with her mother. But whenever Persephone abides in the dark world of death, Demeter withdraws her grace from the world and refuses to let anything grow, and the world turns bitter cold."
Lincoln nodded sleepily, before closing his light blue eyes and drifting into a sweet slumber. Smiling, the Greek lay her palm on his forehead, and looked to his mother. "How does he fare?"
"Good," she answered. "He said his leg only hurt a little."
Corin smiled. "Excellent. He should be able to go home tomorrow, though he should not put any weight on his leg for three weeks at least, and after that he should use a crutch or walking stick."
Vanora nodded, listening to the healer attentively.
"I'll give you some of these herbs to make a tea that will reduce Lincoln's pain. Whenever he complains of it hurting, just mix a spoonful in with water and have him drink it. It tastes horrible," she added with a quiet laugh, "but it works well."
The older woman nodded again and clutched Corin's hand. "Thank you so much, Corin, I don't know what we would have done without you. The village healer is a very old man and I fear he has gone slightly insane."
"It is no problem at all," Corin answered with a bright smile. "Lincoln is a very brave boy."
Vanora sighed and slumped slightly in her seat. "I fear he is trying to grow up to fast. Lincoln wants very much to be like his father and Gilly, his older brother, but I think perhaps he is slightly in over his head."
Corin smiled kindly. "Mayhap now he will realise this. After all, Lincoln is going to be spending many weeks abed."
"Mmmm," Vanora mumbled quietly, "and perhaps I can bully Bors into spending some time with the boy out of the training field. Did you ever want children, Corin?"
She smiled nostalgically. "Yes, when I was younger. I had an entire life planned out for me. I would leave the temple, marry, start a family, and grow old with many children and grandchildren by my side. But I suppose that is no longer possible," Corin said quietly. "Nobody wants used goods, right?"
Vanora laughed. "Oh, I don't now about that, this is not Rome! And besides," she added with a grin, "look at me. I have thirteen children, twelve of which were borne out of wedlock, and I'm a happily married woman."
Corin snorted. "Well, if it means I have to mother thirteen children only to get married I think I might just decline." She shook her head ruefully. "Honestly, Vanora, I don't know why you put yourself through such pain so many times."
Vanora shut her eyes and leaned back into the chair with a wistful sigh. "Ah, but it means nothing when you hold the babe in your arms, Corin. Mark my words, nothing compares to that feeling."
Corin smiled as Vanora's breathing slowed, her face becoming relaxed and still. Moving as silently as she could, Corin draped a blanket around woman, and then with a last look at the sleeping mother and her son, blew out the lights and left the room.
-
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-
"The last full moon of spring," Lancelot said quietly as he approached Corin, who was standing still in the moonlight, her hands resting upon the parapet.
She nodded slowly. "Yes, and the time for one of the largest festivals in Greece."
"Oh?" Lancelot questioned, coming to stand close beside her on the battlements.
"Yes, the Great Full Moon Festival. Honouring Artemis as the Moon Goddess and Lady of the Beasts."
Lancelot turned his face from the moon to look at Corin fully. "And what would you do on this day?"
She smiled bittersweetly. "There would be a great hunt in the morning that would last long into the afternoon. The first animal that we caught would be sacrificed to the Lady, and then there would be a massive feast. The rest of the night would be spent drinking, dancing, singing, story-making for the children. It was always my favourite of the festivals," she told him sadly.
Tentatively, Lancelot laid his hand atop Corin's, entwining her fingers with his. Corin smiled sweetly to herself before she gently leaned against the tall knight, her head coming to rest on his shoulder. And they stood like that long into the night, the lustrous light of the moon casting their shadows upon the stone.
A/N: Ta da! Hope you all liked it. Please drop me a review!
