"….So, she tells me that her husband is away on business and he won't be back for another few days." Lancelot said, eyes sparkling as he paused in his story to survey the other knights. "Lucilla, if you'll recall, was the one with the impressive display of cleavage and a taste for younger men.-"
"--Not much of a looker, that one." Bors interrupted, sloshing wine down his front.
Lancelot grinned wickedly. "Ahh, but it's not the looks that matter so much as it is the experience. And experience she had. Said it was the only thing that kept her entertained in such a god-forsaken place, and I could only agree, given her god-given talent with her tongue."
He took a gulp of his drink, savoring the attention of the other men. Galahad nodded at him to continue, ever impatient to reach the end. "I meet her after sunset, in her villa, and we spend a most pleasurable few hours together--"
"What, the both of ye?" Bors asked nonchalantly, grinning. "Didn't know you were that skilled."
"Oh, I am. Ask Vanora." Lancelot replied and grinned when Bors accidentally snorted wine up his nose. The other knights laughed, save for Tristan, who simply clicked his tongue at Isolde and continued peeling his apple. "We're really enjoying ourselves-- she had the most dexterous tongue, have I mentioned that?-- when we hear shouting and horses stamping in the courtyard. 'It's just the servants, returning from the village', she says, and I accept that at face-value, only too happy to continue. A few minutes later- bam!-- her door bangs open, and in comes her husband."
Shouts of laughter rang from the table. Lancelot continued, "She freezes, I freeze, and he stands there staring open-mouthed. I wriggle out from underneath her, still-- well, unsatisfied-- thinking I might escape before he regains the ability to move. I'm just about to the corner of the bed, having fought off Lucilla, who seems determined to go on anyway, husband be damned, when something slams into my shoulder. Damn bastard had thrown a vase at me. 'You'll hang for this!' he screeches, having noticed my armor in the corner, and starts screeching about the dishonor he's facing, being cuckolding by a scrawny rat of a boy without a trace of beard. Now, you all know that if there's one thing I can't stand, it's being insulted in such a fashion. So I lunge toward him, deciding if I'm dead anyway I might as well get in a few good swings before the end, when Lucilla starts sobbing about her needs, and how lonely she is and so on. Her husband goes a bit pale at that, and switches from me to her, and I take that as my opportunity to exit gracefully. So I sneak out of the room and make it back to the camp in one piece."
Gawain snorted. "Great story."
Lancelot held up a hand to silence him. "Not done yet. You see, a few days later, Lucilla walks into my tent in the middle of the afternoon, and simply says, 'He's gone to Rome on government business; care to keep me company for the months he's gone?'. That day I learned three things: never turn your back on an angry husband, less you want to ended up scarred; the uglier a woman the better she'll be in bed, and lastly: never underestimate the power that two swords have over women."
He leaned back in his chair, smug, and surveyed the men around him.
Finally Tristan spoke, pausing with a apple sliver halfway to his mouth. "The next time you decide to regale us with a tale, make sure it has a point."