A/N: Ah, crap, I'm so sorry for the huge delay in this chapter. SO SORRY! It wasn't that I had writers block, or even because my computer broke down, but I had to take an extremely last minute trip to Melbourne. As in, "Can you be ready to catch the plane in two hours?" sort of last minute. So I was tossing up posting the rest of Crescent Moon in the last few minutes before I left, but not only did I not have time, I just didn't want to do it simply because I don't like doing that. Posting an entire story (or end of a story as it might have been) in one sitting. Just not my style. Thank you for all your wonderful reviews and patience. I would give individual review responses but I just want to get this posted already so you can read it! But thank you so much. Your feedback is continuously overwhelming. Can we get to 200 before the end? Might be hard. Hmm.
So without further ado, here's the next chapter. Hope you enjoy it.
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 world with light, like the rising of the moon.
Crescent Moon
By katemary77
Chapter Fifteen: Thy Everlasting LightWhence are thy beams,
O sun! thy everlasting light?
Thou comest forth, in thy awful beauty;
the stars hide themselves in the sky;
the moon, cold and pale,
sinks in the western waves.
But
thou, thyself, movest alone.
-- James Macpherson
Ossian--Cathon--Ossian's Address to the Sun
"Play, Corin! Play!" May urged her, and the patrons of her tavern echoed her calls.
The girl glanced pleadingly at Faustus, but the Lord merely shrugged and raised his goblet to her, signifying he could do nothing.
Faustus and Corin had been sharing a quiet evening when a band of Greek traders and musicians rolled into the pub. Corin had been ecstatic at the new arrivals and had exhausted the travellers, interrogating them for hours about recent news from her home.
Stupidly, she had admitted to knowing how to play the lyre, and immediately the small harp was pushed into her hands, May, Amandus, Varius and the other locals insisting she accompany the other players.
"But I haven't played in so long, May! I hardly remember how to!" she implored.
"Nonsense!" the old woman shouted. "Play!"
Sighing with resignation, Corin tucked the instrument into the crook of her arm, and the group strung up an old, traditional song, usually played at weddings and festivals. After stumbling over the first few notes, Corin's fingers remembered strings, remembered chords, and she was able to pluck prettily throughout the song. At the end notes, Faustus and the others applauded enthusiastically, and before Corin even had time to catch her breath, the musicians began another lively tune and Corin was made to hurry over the first chords before she was in time with the others.
The group played long into the night, until Corin's fingers were sore and red, and her head was about to drop onto Faustus's shoulder.
"Alright, alright," the Roman lord finally laughed. "Our leading lady is about to pass out, perhaps we should retire for the evening?"
This pronouncement was met with jeers from the men, who evidently had not finished their merry-making and did not wish to. Rolling his eyes, Faustus nudged Corin to her feet.
"Goodnight!" Corin called sleepily. "Gentlemen, it was a pleasure playing with you. May the Gods of Olympus watch over you and yours."
Shifting uncomfortably, the Greek travellers nodded to the lady and bid their farewells.
Soon, Corin and Faustus had escaped the noise of the tavern and were out in the cool, fresh night, weaving their way slowly back to the fort.
"Thank you for taking me out tonight," Corin said, smiling up at her friend. "I had a thoroughly enjoyable evening."
"That is good," Faustus remarked. "I've hardly seen you smile the past month."
"Not true!" Corin scoffed. "I think you have taken to over exaggerating, like your friends."
"That is the only untruth in the matter," Faustus laughed. "What has gotten you so down?"
She sighed. "I must arrange to return to Camelot."
Faustus paused, pulling Corin back to stand with him. "Why?"
"The Queen is due in the next moon. I promised I would be there for her birth."
Faustus frowned. "Will you stay here as long as you can, before her time?"
Corin nodded. "Of course."
"And only remain there for whatever time is necessary?"
She smiled at him and linked her arm with his. "Of course, Faustus. I will be back here so quickly you would not even notice I had gone."
He shook his head slightly, his shoulders slumped. "No, my lady, I assure you that would never be the case."
They continued to walk down the lane, every step bringing them nearer to the fort.
"Perhaps I can travel to Camelot with you, to visit the King," Faustus considered. "Every other noble will, to honour the newborn heir."
"Would you?" Corin asked, looking up at him. "I shall need the moral support."
It was the closest she had come to explaining why she had left the castle in the first place.
Faustus smiled, looked at her oddly for a moment, and then pulled Corin to him in a one-armed hug. "Then moral support you shall have."
Faustus and Corin were sitting on the terrace in a comfortable, easy silence.
The moon was reflected by the calm waters of Birdoswald Lake, and the air was cold and crisp. They would leave in ten days, to Camelot, and Corin couldn't help dwell on what would happen upon her return.
Was Lancelot waiting for her? Had he found a new love? Or was he still enthralled with the pale queen?
"Corin?"
She made a faint murmur to signal she was listening.
Faustus appeared before her, leaning against the parapet. He looked solemn, lucid, his eyes focused on hers.
"Would you ever consider marrying me, Corin?"
It took a moment for the question to sink in.
"Marry you?" she said blankly.
His lips curved slightly. "Yes, marry me. I love you, Corin."
She swallowed a lump in her throat and stood quickly, crossing to the other side of the battlements.
"Faustus – when? Where did this come from?" she questioned perplexedly.
"I have wanted to ask you for a long time, Corin," the lord said simply. "And I have loved you longer."
She grimaced, pained at his unadorned proclamation of love. She moved close to him and looked over the balcony's edge.
"Faustus, I care for you very much, love you even, but – "
"But your heart is with another. I thought as much," he interjected quietly. "You wait for him to see you?"
Corin shook her head sadly.. "He sees me. But he waits for another."
"A knight?" was the next question.
She nodded. "The one that found me."
She would not say his name.
"One day, Faustus, you will find a woman who deserves you and can return the love you offer," Corin told him, turning to face her friend. "I am not that woman. But I know she will be beautiful and that she will love you more than I ever could. I am sorry I cannot."
The Roman nodded and drew Corin to him in a tight embrace. "I will always be your friend, okay?" he murmured into her hair, tightening his hold on her warm body. "I will always be your friend."
Corin smiled and nodded, wiping her face with the back of her hands.
"You are a wonderful man, Faustus. Someday you will make someone very happy."
"My lord!"
Light spilled onto the terrace as the door was thrown open, revealing a young pageboy, breathless and harried.
"Yes, Ryan?"
"A knight has come, from Camelot, Sir. He says he has ridden all day and brings urgent news to the Lady Corin."
Corin, her eyes wide, rushed past the boy and into the fort, hurrying through the halls until she came to the entrance hall.
"Tristan!"
She flew at the knight, wrapping her arms tightly around him and pelted the dark scout with kisses. He chortled softly and lifted her into the air, his strong arms snug around her waist. "It is wonderful to see you, dove," she heard him whisper quietly to her.
"Why have you come?" she questioned as the knight set her down, and taking one look at his face she knew his answer would not be good.
"Guinevere," he told her bluntly. "The Queen has gone into labour. There are complications and the midwife does not think she will make it. Arthur sent me here, he thinks that maybe you could help…"
But Corin was already rushing out of the room, and within minutes she had returned, two suede saddlebags in hand.
"We must ride through the night," Tristan told her. "We may already be too late."
"We will not be late," Corin said sharply. "Come, we must leave."
They had been riding for hours.
They had stopped once, to water the horses, and then continued again, speeding through the forests and meadows.
Corin knew that without the constant warnings Tristan gave her of protruding roots or overhanging branches, she and Callisto would have never made it through the night.
Now, the sun was rising in the east, her sharp, golden rays making it difficult for Corin to see ahead.
But Camelot was almost in sight.
Her every bone was aching, the muscles in her legs clenched painfully to prevent her from falling and her head was heavy with the prospect of sleep.
But she knew sleep would not come for many hours.
They had arrived.
Not pausing to wait for the gates to fully open, Tristan and Corin sped into Camelot. Manoeuvring their horses through the town, they finally came to the doors of the castle.
Leaping off her horse, Corin hurried into the building that had occupied her thoughts for so long on their journey there.
Camelot.
Lancelot.
Blocking this from her mind, Corin dashed along the familiar corridors to the Queen's chambers, where she knew Guinevere would be.
Corin, hardly sparing a glance for the tightly clustered knights in the hallway, shed her pale blue cloak and raced into the Queen's chambers, immediately seeking out the midwife.
"It's not much use, my lady," the elder woman told the Greek, not at all startled by her arrival. "She is bleeding too much. We cannot keep both the Queen and the child, perhaps neither."
Determinedly, Corin shook her head. "Nay. I will not allow that to happen. The Pale Lady shall protect them both."
The queen lay under a pile of heavy blankets, shivering and sweating. Her face was ashen and sallow, stretched taught in pain.
"Corin, you have come," she murmured weakly.
The Greek nodded. "Yes. Do not fear, Guinevere, you shall last this day."
Rolling up her sleeves, Corin ignored the dubious looks of the nurses and stepped up to the bed, her cornflower eyes scanning over the bloody mess. "You there, hand me that towel…"
Many hours later, Corin slipped out into the silent hallway, startling Arthur and his men who had gathered there to support their leader and brother.
"Your wife rests peacefully," Corin said softly, answering the unasked question. "As does your son."
Each knight breathed a sigh of relief, but none so much as the King, whose eyes quickly clouded over with tears. "May I – ?" he said quietly, pleadingly, gesturing to the closed door.
"You may," Corin answered with a small smile, "but please do not disturb Guinevere," she requested. "She has given much for this child and needs her rest."
The King nodded before reaching up to cup Corin's cheek with his hand. "Thank you, Corin," he said, a sole tear trickling down his cheek. "If you hadn't have reached Camelot in time, I don't think – "
"Hush," she interjected firmly. "Do not speak of such things. Go and meet your son."
Smiling brightly, Arthur lay a kiss upon Corin's brow. "And you need to rest. You look terrible."
Nodding, Corin turned to the other knights as the King closed the door behind him. She warmly embraced each in turn, until she reached the end of the line where Lancelot stood leaning against wall. A sheet of pale blue material hung from his hand. There was an awkward pause before Corin gave a weak nod of greeting and turned to the others.
"I'm going to go and get some rest. I shall see you gentlemen in the morn."
And she turned and walked away, feeling more than one pair of dark eyes follow her path down the hall.
But Corin would find no rest that night.
Her mind was too full of thoughts and memories and dreams; returning to Camelot, to Lancelot, and what that could mean.
Standing up, Corin was surprised to find her feet drawn to her old haunt, and when she reached the topmost battlement was glad of the cloudy dark that was there to wrap around her in warmth.
She'd been standing there for a while when a soft voice interrupted her meditation.
"I thought I would find you here."
Corin, half expecting to see Faustus grinning at her, his arms open wide, was surprised to instead find Tristan, stoic as always, standing behind her.
"Shouldn't you be resting?" she asked him over her shoulder.
His lips quirked.
"Shouldn't you?"
She laughed quietly.
"How did you like Birdoswald?" he questioned, moving to stand beside her.
Corin nodded. "They were very nice to me there. Faustus is a good man."
"He is in love with you."
Corin sighed. "Yes. But it will pass."
"Did you miss us?" came his next question.
Corin nodded again. "Of course. How could I not?"
"Even Lancelot?"
"Yes," she said cagily, wary of where the conversation was headed. "Even Lancelot."
"I have never seen a man so broken," Tristan begun, "as Lancelot was when you left us. Left him."
Corin shook her hair back, uncomfortable with Tristan's blunt words. "There is no moon tonight," she ventured, attempting to change the subject. "Not even the stars have come out."
But Tristan would not be diverted.
"He hid it well," the scout told her. "But after years of watching people, you begin to see what others do not."
"Don't mince words with me, knight!" Corin hissed. "What is it that you are telling me?"
"He loves you Corin," Tristan said quietly, gazing down upon the valley. " I do not believe he ever loved the Queen at all. Infatuated, yes, enthralled, perhaps. But true love is only the kind that is returned."
"You are quite sure I return it?" Corin asked scornfully.
He laughed. "I saw the way you looked at him tonight. Any half alive person would know that you are in love with Lancelot, Corin."
"And when did you become so wise, Knight?"
His eyes dimmed. "I have lived a long and lonely life, dove, of fighting and pain and suffering. And a life without love is not worth fighting for. That is the only wisdom I can claim."
"But you can you be so sure he loves me, me only?" she now asked.
"I have heard tell that love is blind," he answered, in his clipped, thickly accented tone, his eyes staring far off, beyond Corin, beyond Camelot. "But Lancelot sees Guinevere. And he does not see you. Lancelot sees his world in darkness, and Guinevere his moon. But he forgets that the sun has yet to rise."
She was crying now, freely, and made no move to wipe the tears from her face. "I wish I could just… stop loving him. Stop hurting."
He smiled and placed his hand on her shoulder like a friend, like a brother. Like Acheron would have. "Love won't be tampered with. Love won't go away. Push it to one side and it creeps to the other. Lancelot loves you like his last breath, Corin. Go to him. All you need to do is open his eyes."
A/N: Sorry. Is that a bit of a cliffhanger? Heh. "Love won't be tampered with. Love won't go away. Push it to one side and it creeps to the other." – is a quote from Isak Dinesen. Thought it fit nicely. So please review and maybe I'll be nice and post the next (and last) chapter this weekend. Not to bribe you or anything… Hope all you Australians, (if there are any) are having a lovely Easter break.
