Disclaimer: I do not own any of the character names, save my own original creations. I do not wish to be compensated for this work, nor do I wish to infringe on any copyrights held by any stakeholders of the movie King Arthur. This work is an original creation, based on the legend of King Arthur and his knights.
Chapter 24: A Gamble Forgiven
They entered the common and heads turned to greet them. Lancelot watched them, arm in arm, Cerys smiling, Arthur looking tired, but relaxed. Guinevere got up from her seat and made her way to her husband. Cerys gave her a small hug and shook a finger to her, exchanging words in jest with the woman. Guinevere laughed and took her husband's hand.
"Arthur must've finally found out about her hands." Gawain said, cup in his own, his elbow resting on the table and leaning over towards Lancelot. "Otherwise Cerys would not be teasing Guinevere so."
Lancelot nodded and made a sound from his throat in reply, taking another sip from his own goblet.
Indeed he had heard the full tale from Bors over a cup the second night they had been back. He had left afterwards in quite a dark mood and spent the next few hours pacing the battlements. he had kicked the wall, screamed at the stars... and been so utterly frustrated. All the time they were away sitting idle in that horrible Caer and she was collapsing from fatigue! He was angry with himself, angry with Arthur, angry with... well, just angry with the situation. Most of all it had scared him half out of his mind, thinking her so close to...
He would not even think it.
He had not had any time to speak with her since, her duties keeping her from socializing. In truth, he had spent much time at his own duties too. He wanted badly to speak with her, touch her again. Perhaps they could go for a walk together later. He took yet another sip of his goblet and put his chin in his hand, his eyes following her.
Galahad sauntered over. He sat, accepting a full cup from Perceval, who also joined them, sitting to the other side of Gawain, and they talked quietly for a few moments. Lancelot half listened.
He watched Cerys move from table to table, patting shoulders, saying hellos. She gave Jols a hug from behind, rocking back and forth; his hands and eyes moving up to greet her, a kiss quickly to her cheek. She squealed and cuffed his shoulder, then plonked herself on his lap, his arm about her waist, hers over his shoulder, her head resting to his in comfortable friendship.
Lancelot got up without word and walked over to where she was, watching them play a game of walnut-shells. The gathered knights smiled behind their cups as they watched him walk away.
"look who's one the prowl again." Bors grunted, draining his cup.
"Shouldn't we do something?" Galahad asked impatiently.
Gawain snorted into his cup. "And do what brother? Succeed in enduring the wrath of cranky Lancelot, and Cerys' chore lists? I think not. Give them time to see it and all will be well."
"We may be old before anything happens, they are seemingly blind." Galahad grumbled. The table laughed.
Tristan, who had also joined the group, cleared his throat. "He is not. He wishes not to hurt her or himself."
The men looked to him and all went silent.
"He will if he keeps this denial." Perceval muttered softly. They nodded in turn, and returned to their drink.
Cerys was laughing at something one of the other men at the table had said, Jols looking on at her adoringly. Lancelot felt, suddenly, a bit jealous. He pushed it out of his head. He had no right to her... yet.
"Oh! The middle one, It's the middle one!" She exclaimed, bouncing and pointing.
Jols' grin told Lancelot that indeed it wasn't but he humoured her. "You think so?"
She nodded, and he lifted the shell. No bean.
She laughed again, as did the rest of the men. Lancelot sat in an empty space. Jols stopped and looked to Lancelot, nodding slightly towards Cerys with his head, making motion to rise and let her sit beside him. Lancelot shook his head and gestured with his hand that she was fine there on his lap.
It seemed that Tristan was not the only one who saw. Damn, he swore to himself in his head. Did everyone notice this ridiculousness?
Lancelot, care to share a game?" He said, his arm reaching out to gather in the shells once more.
"If I win, do I get to keep the prize on your lap Jols?" He said, his eyes dancing, his mouth quirking in his half smile.
"I am owned by no one, dear Sir." Cerys taunted, her eyebrow lifting to mirror his tease.
"Then I shall have the first grace of ownership then." He taunted back. Ahh... There was his Cerys. Let her jest with him and tell him all was well. He needed, no... Craved her whit this evening.
She huffed and crossed her arms. "Then play. For if you lose, then perhaps I shall own you?"
Oohs echoed around the small table and Jols relaxed again. The last thing he needed was a boxing from Lancelot over her, but she could handle herself against this joker, it seemed. He arranged the shells.
"And what shall you do, being the proud owner of a knight?" Lancelot asked.
Cerys tilted her head to ponder for a moment, a finger tapping on pursed lips.
"You can be my servant for one day, and do whatever I ask. I can give Brinn the day off from being my pack-horse."
Lancelot looked at her at that moment but let it slide. Brinn? He would definitely need to ask her about that comment later.
"Alright then. A gamble it is. Jols, if you please."
Jols moved the shells about, then lifting one to place the bean underneath it, showing all where it was. Each of the men at the table put down their coins and made their bets. Lancelot did not put down a coin, neither did Cerys. Cerys winked to Lancelot, and he smiled. She was amusing him with this gamble it seemed.
Jols began moving the shells about, as the men all watched carefully. Cerys mock-yawned.
"I think I may make you do the wash, or perhaps clean my rooms?" She said, her eyes towards Lancelot, who was concentrating on Jols' hands.
"And I shall..." he halted as Jols finished his mixing.
Each man gave their guess. Jols looked to Lancelot.
"Lancelot?"
Lancelot looked to Cerys and caught her eyes. Without looking down, and a confident gleam to his eye, he said "The left one."
Cerys, without breaking his gaze, nodded. "I think it is the right."
Jols looked from one to the other. There was more than a simple bet here, and he could feel the electricity bouncing off both of them. He reached for the shells but Cerys stopped his hand.
"My dear workhorse, let Lancelot lift the right to see if he is indeed going to be my slave on the morrow."
Jols, warmed through, hearing her use his special nickname, gave her waist a squeeze. Lancelot was such a lucky man to be able to pluck this one out. He just hoped the fool did it soon, for all their sakes.
"Whatever the lady wishes." He said, pulling his hand back.
Cerys ruffled his hair from behind and giggled. The rest of the men at the table watched, silent. Lancelot picked up the right shell. Nothing.
"Ha! I win! You are mine now!" he smirked, starting to rise.
"Not so fast dear Sir." She said, reaching over and lifting the left. There was no bean under it either.
'Damn." He said as he sat, his smile widening.
One of the other men scooped up the coins and touched his forehead with his hand to the rest of the table. Everyone laughed as he slowly got up, and drunkenly tottered away, jingling his coins all the way to the bar, where Lorina put a cup and a flask. He slammed the coins on the table with flourish.
"Good coin in the belly, eh Lancelot?" Jols said, as he gathered his shells again. The gamble was breaking, the other two seeing opportunity to share in the first man's winnings. Lancelot sat, His fingers to his chin, pretending to sulk.
"Yes Jols. Good coin. Let me get you a drink then." He replied, pushing away from the table to rise.
"Nay it's alright Lancelot. I am best served to turn in now. I have an early morning tomorrow; we will be reshoeing the horses."
Lancelot nodded. "I will be by tomorrow mid-morning to help you with Klyndd. Have Hywel wait until I can get there."
Lancelot knew that unless he and Brinn were there to hold the horse, no one would get shoes near the stallion's hooves. Brinn would talk softly and hold the lead through his mouth, while Lancelot would twitch the horse's top lip with sinew. It was the only thing that worked to calm the horse, a trick learned as a boy before he was drafted to Rome. His father has called it a "sleeping rope", and it worked wonders on quite a few of the knights more temperamental horses.
Jols nodded in agreement.
"So, my Cerys, you are still wholly owned by yourself." Lancelot said, his eyes following her as she rose from her seat with Jols.
She gave Jols a quick kiss on his cheek and held out a hand to Lancelot, not bothering to respond to his jab. He took it and hand in hand they walked to the bar. Lancelot had his goblet refilled, and Cerys gladly took a full cup from one of the other women working, Galahad's dark haired girl.
"Thank you Dory." She said as she breathed in the scent of the spiced wine. Dory smiled and ducked her head in welcome.
From her pocket, she produced a sprig of mint, and popped it into Lancelot's wine, as he was looking elsewhere. He returned to his cup, and upon seeing the sprig there, put his arm around her, giving her arm a tweak at the silent tease she had just given him. Would he ever live that down? He thought to the roll, now sitting on his bedside table and chuckled. Truly, that mint had been much better served staying in the roll than in his wine. Perhaps someday he would tell her why.
They leaned against the back of the bar, both surveying the crowd and sipping slowly. Galahad walked over and spoke quietly to Dory, her cheeks blushing, as she handed him his refilled cup, their fingers touching. Lancelot nodded to Galahad as he flicked a glance to Dory, who was now busily filling another pitcher of ale for another table. The similarity dawned to him suddenly.
Ahh... So that was the reason he was so upset about the girl outside the Caer. They could have been twins. Now he understood. He patted his companion on the shoulder as he passed, a look of understanding coming between them. Galahad nodded back, his eyes sad.
"What was that about?" Cerys asked quietly in his ear.
"Nothing important. Just some male understandings." He said, giving her a smile. She raised an eyebrow, regarding him quietly.
"That's horse manure if I ever heard it, but I'll let it go for now." She said. "Tell me, what would you have done with me if you had won?"
He took another sip of his wine. Done? Gods... the thoughts ran through his mind like wildfire. He would kiss her until breathless, carry her away and make love to her in the afternoon... ride out with her in front of him on Klyndd and take her to the forest and...
He blinked and shook his head. He needed to stop those thoughts before he embarrassed himself with his reaction to them.
"Oh, perhaps made you clean my rooms, or polish my armour." He teased.
She swatted him lightly and remained where she was, under his arm. For some reason, he thought, this felt right. He turned his head to look at her. Her face was smiling, relaxed. Her hair was down this evening, instead of up in its pins. How he had thought of her hair, tumbled down as she danced while they were away. How was he ever to reconcile these feelings to her? He kept falling deeper and deeper into this feeling that would not go away. He knew soon he would have to tell her, and let her decide, no matter how it would hurt him when she said no.
The dilemma was tormenting him, and he switched his mind away from it.
"Tell me, has Brinn been helpful while I was away?" He asked, fishing for a response. He was curious as to her comment earlier. He had not seen Brinn in the stables during the day since coming home; scooting out as soon as he had finished his chores. Normally he hung about, or found extra work to do.
"Yes, very. I could not have gotten everything done without him." She said. "I did not know he was an orphan, Lancelot."
His brow furrowed. "I must have told you."
"No, no-one did. I found out by accident asking him about when his father would give him a sword to begin training."
Lancelot could hear the sadness in her voice. He pulled her closer to him with his arm and swirled his wine in his cup. He looked up to the sky. He wished that she had not found out that way, and it seemed that she had been troubled by the news.
"I know. I intend to ask Arthur to let me be his sponsor. He is good boy; he will be a good knight."
Cerys cleared her throat and Lancelot turned back to her.
"He is a good room mate as well." She said. Lancelot could hear her voice become hesitant. What did she say? Room mate?
"Room mate." he stated, his eyebrow cocked, trying to understand.
Cerys seemed to regain her courage. "Yes. When I discovered that he was living in the stable lofts, I had him move his things in with me. It's temporary, only until he goes into training..."
Lancelot blinked. His squire was living with the woman he loved? This was too rich. He slowly put his cup down and scratched his head with his hand.
"Lancelot, please don't be mad, it's truly been wonderful. I'm teaching him to read Latin and..."
Lancelot began to laugh. It started as a chuckle, then developed into a full-on belly laugh. He grabbed the edge of the bar, some of the gathered knights looked over to see the fuss. Lorina swatted at his hand on the bar, her own smile sharing his good mood. He winked to her. Bors shook his head from his seat behind the bar, his baby asleep in the crook of his arm. Even Arthur looked up from his seat closer to the hall, recognizing his friend's laughter.
Cerys looked about her confused. She shoved his shoulder. "Why in the name of the Gods are you bloody laughing?" She hissed. "Stop it."
"Oh Hells..." He said between chuckles "I am not mad. I am laughing at how unexpected it is. You are my sweet Cerys, and I love you for it." He grabbed her up then, his arms circling her, kissing her cheek softly.
Arthur raised his eyebrows and caught his wife's eyes. She winked to him and put a finger to her lips.
Had he just said...? Blast! He reasoned with himself. It was meant as something else, and he brushed it away. Fool... he was letting his heart rule his head; making him think things he should not, and do things he would regret.
Cerys melted into him, her arms about him now. He could feel her smile against his shoulder. He must have relieved her, knowing that he was not mad for her usurping of his squire. Truly this was unexpected, and he was laughing at the irony of the situation, of which she would not understand.
"Good." She muffled into his tunic." Both Brinn and I were worried you would be upset, not having your permission."
He suddenly wanted to be alone with her.
He grabbed up his wine and took her hand. "Come for a walk with me up on the battlements. You can tell me more about what happened while I was gone."
She nodded, and grabbed her own cup. They exited the common, the stares of five knights, a stable master, a king, aqueen, and a serving woman following them, all smiling.
Dear Reader:
A gamble indeed! This chapter really made me think of good times with close friends, laughter around a kitchen table and light-hearted teasing.
I give you a thought, as I sometimes do, when I am thinking. Do you have a group of friends that you can share good times with? When was the last time you were able to gather together and share each others stories, comforts and laughter? I know for me, it has been too long.
I bid your laughter is loud and your time with friends rich with it. Let it fuel your soul and move your pen!
Cardeia
