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.
Scribe Notes:
All: Faster than a blink, I had 8 reviews in my inbox! Wow... so, since you have all waited anxiously, here is the next chapter. Now on to comments:
lilstrummrgrl527: Now don't do anything rash. (grin) You are anxious because you can feel the tension building! I promise to ease it soon. Next we have a fun chapter to add some new tension into the fray for poor Cerys. So belay jumping off battlements for a few more chapters and I promise you will not want to.
Sokorra Lewis: Thank you! the connection is interesting and I can't wait to fill it in more for you. She has seen so much that for her, if he chooses not to follow his own thoughts and look beyond himself, it was not for lack ofher trying. Cerys does get thinking, but not in the same way that Lancelot is shocked into it.
Calliann: Thank you for your kind words. It means much to me to have you tell me you like my writing style. I sometimes find it a bit different than others, and I wonder if I should change it. I try, but I think it is the way I am. (grin). The hairpins I have had in my head since the beginning of the story, when I have Cerys dancing with Lancelot. I wanted her to be wearing pins he gave her. But, it didn't fit with their slow-burn realizations. This fit much better and I can have much more fun with connections!
Burnt Alice: No apology needed! Busy means that you are living life! I am glad you have enjoyed my story and are able to take a few moments to catch up. I like your idea about having Tristan come to Cerys, and I am ahead of you! Not in the way you think, but you will hopefully like his admission to his softer side. I promise to post it soon.
Do not sell yourself short. You write well. Believe in yourself and your abilities to bring life to your characters and you will shine! I know you can do it, and the best thing to do is just breathe in and out and let your fingers and mind's eye control your editor brain. Let it come out and worry about it after you have poured it out emotionally on the page.
I am looking forward to more Leila and Tristan and Lancelot in your story, the Hawk's Cry.
Ailis-70: I will repeat what I just typed for Burnt Alice. Do not sell yourself short! The depth and emotion that you gave Tristan and Teagan are what inspired me to give Tristan his own side-plot! The way you give him his twisted thoughts, and the way you bring out the depth of his emotions is truly wonderful! Do not even think for a moment that what you are writing is wrong. He will come to grips, she will heal and they will find each other again. But what they go through now is necessary. I love your story the way it is. don't change it.
I used to ride competitively as a junior in horse trials. There was an elderly woman who still rode, in her 80's, and would gallop across country, jumping fences just as good as us "young'uns". I can remember her sitting and chatting while we waited at the horse trailer one day and being completely amazed by this woman. I asked her how she did it. She looked at me, and with a wink in her eye said "You have intelligent eyes. You figure it out and when you are my age, you will know." To this day, I still don't understand, but I think it have something to do with passion and knowing yourself well enough to let yourself do the things you want to do without fear of the consequences. She is still riding today, even in her 90's. She is Rhia.
And Tristan will get his shove. He may even shove himself! (wink).
Chapter 31: Prankster as Saviour
"That tastes wonderful! Whatever is in it?"
The older woman smiled as Cerys took another sip from the wooden spoon held to her lips. She rubbed them together, savouring the broth she was trying, in anticipation for tomorrow's winter solstice celebration. She handed the spoon back to the woman and smiled.
"Tis just some chicken bones with some savory, and some of them dried chives." The woman answered.
"Well it will be perfect. Do you need any more stones to put in the stock?"
The woman shook her head and wiped her hands on her apron. Cerys smiled and nodded, and let the woman get back to her work. She lightly ran fingers over the smooth river stones sitting on the table, standing ready to get dropped into the pot when it was re-boiled tomorrow.
Her mind went to bringing up the wine from the stores, and she pulled out a tally stick to check. Yes, all were counted.
She went out the door for a moment, looking towards the afternoon sky. Lancelot and Tristan would be due back soon, and she was looking forward to seeing them that evening. She was anticipating a nice quiet meal and perhaps an early evening with Brinn, reading. She also needed to stop by and make sure that there was enough wood to man the braziers for the evening. Oh, and the tanners to see about that swatch of leather for her bow. Oh, and the...
Cerys got lost in chores, mentally tallying up the things she needed to see to before the day was done. She paced as she counted and recounted tallies. She felt excited at the prospect of the celebration. She loved winter solstice! Everything was in place, and perhaps this evening she could finish Brinn's cloak as well, and gather together her gifts!
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Octus striding towards her. Blast, he was going to make her good mood foul quickly with another of his demands. She was surprised at how the man had gone from grateful guest to annoying General so quickly. She mused that he may find Vindolanda an easier place to live. From reports though, they were choc-a-bloc with people displaced from burnt crops as well.
She sighed and turned as he stopped in front of her.
"Lady, I have a request."
"Yes Octus? How can I be of help this afternoon?" She asked, her voice level. She hoped it was not for more food to be brought out, or more time in the armoury. It had been hard enough getting them to agree to use the baths on a schedule! Romans... she thought suddenly and almost laughed out loud. Was she not such?
Not anymore, she realized.
He scratched his head. "I need to speak with Arthur. I cannot find him. I fear my men are becoming languid and I need his counsel."
Cerys was relieved. Arthur would have been waiting for such an opportunity to give Octus and his men something to do. They could patrol the boundaries, they could spend some time re-buttressing some of the outside walls, there was plenty to do! She smiled her best smile and took his arm.
"Of course! He spends his afternoons sometimes in his apartments. We shall go and find out if he is able to see you."
As she walked with Octus, they chatted a bit on the weather and other idle, polite talk.
"Are you looking forward to returning to your home in the Spring?" she asked.
he nodded and looked down to her. He cleared his throat.
"Yes, I am. It will be a welcome sight. We have much rebuilding to do, and I am anxious to start."
Cerys made a sound and bobbed her head to agree with him. The knights had told her of the place, and how badly it had been ransacked. Octus must have been quite upset.
"However," He continued, "I will be going back without my wife. It will be a bit empty there without the women to run the kitchens and keep my rooms warm."
"Your wife?" Cerys asked. She had not remembered a woman coming in with Octus and his men. She furrowed her brow and looked to him.
"She was killed when the stronghold was sacked."
"I am sorry." Cerys muttered. She immediately felt sorry for the frustration she had directed towards Octus. He most certainly was adjusting to a new life without his loved ones. She patted his arm with her hand and he smiled.
"All is well. I shall find a new wife in time. There are plenty of years left to live happily." He said as his eyes scanned her.
Cerys took it back, along with her arm.
That was not exactly the thing a man in mourning for his spouse should say. He was looking at her like a dog looks at a fresh beef bone, and she shuddered.
She reconfirmed her notion that he was truly Roman. She much preferred the knights and their unstructured beliefs to this strict upbringing of duty to Rome and their harsh ideas of life. Her knights had a sense of duty, yes, but they were able to live around it, not live for it!
They arrived at the doors to Arthur's rooms, and she knocked quietly, three times hard, three times soft.
Long ago, she had developed a signal for Arthur to say that she was not alone, and that he should come to the door. So many dignitaries, religious men, generals and such had come through the fort in the years they had been together that it made the code necessary. If she was alone, she would knock heavily five times, slowly. The only other knock she used was six rapid knocks, which was for emergencies. Once she had used that knock and he had run out in just his trews, which had fallen to the ground the moment he stepped outside the door. It was the source of much teasing from the men, who had gathered to discuss an imminent attack. Arthur may be a fearsome man on the battle field, but could still blush like a shy woman when embarrassed.
She knew they had a moment, he would dress himself if he was not formal, based on her knock.
The door cracked open, and Guinevere stuck her head out. "Cerys." She whispered.
"Octus needs to speak with Arthur." Cerys whispered back.
"He's... ahh... sleeping. Can you wait a few moments for me to wake him and let him dress?"
Octus cleared his throat and rocked on his heels, looking anywhere but at Guinevere. It was then that Cerys noticed her bare shoulder, and a fur clutched to her chest.
Cerys bit her lip and her eyes danced with mirth. Sleeping? I think not, she thought to herself.
"Of course, we will go to the hall. Arthur can meet us there?"
Guinevere nodded and with a quick glance to Octus, closed the door. Cerys turned, and with a smile to the General, gestured out ahead of her towards the hall.
"May I offer you a warm waiting spot?" She said, amusement evident in her voice.
Octus looked sternly towards the door and nodded. "Very poor character, sleeping during the day. He should be out working his troops."
Cerys didn't bother to answer. She was quite positive this man had never been in love in his life and would not understand what Arthur and Guinevere had with each other. She felt a pang of loneliness right then, despite the unpleasant company. She was looking forward to seeing Lancelot, sharing a drink. She blinked. She must keep her thoughts to her tasks today!
As she walked towards the hall, she saw Brinn running for the stables. He was smiling, his dark hair flying about as he ran.
"Brinn! What is your hurry?" She called out after him. How that boy could make her smile just by his own happiness!
"Lancelot and Tristan are back!" He yelled as he continued on his path. "I have to try and make the stable before they do! I met them on the wall."
Cerys laughed and waved to him as he shot off again. She returned to Octus and shook her head.
"He is such an enthusiastic boy." She said. She was also relieved. They were home safe again.
Octus grunted and they moved off towards the hall. Once inside, she offered him some wine and a cushion to sit. He seemed uncomfortable in the hall, and put a hand to the table.
"This table, it is so very different."
"It is our round table. Very convenient to see everyone when talking." She smiled. It was a huge thing, taking nearly a hundred paces to walk around the outside, and could seat a hundred or more men right at it. The space in the large wood hall was capable of holding three times that, and the braziers in the corner burned brightly, ready for the dinner and socializing that came every night at the fort. Cerys was sure he had never seen the like, and she rubbed the edge fondly. She did truly love this table; it was such an integral part to their home.
He looked for a chair, and finding none, stood, his arms folded, his legs slightly apart.
"Would you care to sit, Octus?" She repeated as she returned from the side of the hall, handing him a full goblet of wine.
He shook his head and regarded her. "Was that boy your son?"
What business was it of his? She thought suddenly, but didn't voice it. This man was making her edgy and she was being defensive. She shook her head.
"Brinn? No, he is Lancelot's squire. He was an orphan, and he stays with me and also helps me with my chores."
"You are not spoken for?" He asked again, coming closer to her. She backed up a step. This was quickly becoming uncomfortable. She did not respond.
Octus set his goblet, untouched, down on the table and walked towards her. She continued to back up until she was against the table. She was beginning to shake, and she felt afraid. What did this man want with her? She felt her skin crawl as he reached out and trailed a finger down her cheek and twisted a lock of her hair around his finger. She could only stand frozen as he licked his lips.
"You would look very nice in my bed, Lady." He said softly, a husky tone coming to his voice. "I shall have to speak with Arthur about you."
Cerys was going to be sick in a moment and could feel her stomach heaving. Octus continued to wind her hair about his finger, and he stepped in closer, his breath now on her skin. It was making her skin crawl further, and she leaned away from him and looked wildly about her for a place to run.
She was trapped. Bloody Hells.
"Please, Octus, this is not the time or place..." She began.
"Love, there you are!" Came a voice from the doorway.
Cerys turned to see Perceval wading towards her, a mischievous look to his eye. He winked. She looked at him and suddenly saw her escape.
'Darling!" She cried, running towards him and putting her arms about his neck. He lifted her up and she laughed heartily. Octus stepped back and took up his goblet once more, attempting to smooth his appearance to that of calm General.
"Thank the Gods you are here. Help me!" She whispered in to his ear through his long brown hair. He chuckled softly and put her down.
"I have been looking all over for you! Where have you been?" He said loudly, overplaying the part and making her want to smack him. Perceval could be so dramatic!
"I was seeing to our guest. Arthur is to join us." She said, pouting now.
This fiction would be fun, perhaps. Easier than having Perceval accost the General and ending up fighting, then causing an even bigger problem. She smiled again, tilting her head sideways and pretending to be enthralled with him. She batted her eyelashes and he gave her an amused look.
"I see. Well, come and see to your lover. I have missed you, with your hands so tender, your eyes so soft, and your…"
She did smack him on the arm at that point. "Now is not the time for a lover's speech, my darling." She warned through her teeth, good naturedly.
He smiled and put an arm around her waist, not missing an opportunity to pinch her bottom. She yelped and jumped. She would get him for that later. He was such a prankster; Perceval was, missing no opportunity.
"Octus, may I leave you to your wine to wait for Arthur? It seems I have other... err... Duties to attend to."
Octus nodded, his face set in a frown. Cerys wished she could belt the man across his horrible face. Perceval had truly come just in time.
They exited the hall as fast as they could, Perceval dragging her out by the hand. As soon as they were in the common, they both burst out laughing, doubled over from the effort. Despite the situation, Cerys was quite amused with the turn of events.
"Oh Perceval, thank you!" She managed between breaths. "He is truly a disgusting man. His wife is barely in the ground and he paws at me."
Perceval wiped his eyes and laughed once more, leaning on a table. "Truly he is not your type, Cerys. I would think you preferred men your own age at least."
"Who isn't?"
Cerys turned and her heart flipped as Lancelot walked into view. She furrowed her brow then as he joined them. He looked tired, dark circles under his eyes. He looked rumpled in his riding armour, stiff. Had something happened on the run?
"Lancelot!" Perceval said, and clapped the man on the shoulder. Lancelot didn't look at him, but kept his eyes to Cerys.
"Who isn't?" He repeated.
"Oh, it's nothing. I was with Octus in the hall and he made an advance on me. Horrible man, he is." She said, shuddering. "Perceval came in pretending to be my lover and rescued me before that... that man was able to do anything."
Lancelot looked at Perceval, then at Cerys, both of whom were still giggling. Cerys had her hand to her chest. She tilted her head. He was not right. Something was wrong.
"Are you alright?" she said as she put a hand out to him.
He licked his lips and sighed. Perceval then too noticed his tiredness.
"Cerys, truly I was looking for a cup of wine when I came in. I should see to finding a drink and perhaps a warmer tunic before I rejoin you." Perceval said, bowing grandly in her direction.
Cerys smiled and gave the knight a hug. She would speak with Arthur on this later. She would not want to have dealings with Octus again.
"Thank you Perceval, your timing was perfect. I am glad nothing more came out of the situation or it would be headache for all of us." She said happily as she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. He wiggled his eyebrows to her, grabbed her about her waist and dipped her over backwards. He gave her a light peck on her own cheek. She laughed again. He was unbearable, truly!
"You will let me finish my lover's speech about your body later?" He asked, still holding her over backwards.
She swatted his arm again as he let her to her feet. He grinned.
Perceval put a hand to Lancelot's shoulder as he passed.
"Now it's your turn to take over and be the real thing." He said lowly, so Cerys would not hear. He met Lancelot's eyes, dead serious, all jesting from their acting episode gone.
Lancelot could only blink and look after his friend as he walked away.
Dear Reader:
Oh my! Here we get a glimpse of Perceval, whom I replaced Dagonet with. Perceval is a mix of my very own sweetheart, and a man where I work that makes me laugh every day with his facial expressions and humorous monologues.
Percevalmay seem a bit like a "ne'er-do-well" Lancelot rendition, but I wanted to give him more of a young feel, less bitterness. It seemed fitting to have Perceval play the fiction, since he can do so without any regret. He and Bors are the most well adjusted of the 7, with Arthur coming in behind, and Galahad striding up as we speak. I may bring him into another story again this way, I am not sure yet.
Onward and upward. I have been working furiously today, and I cannot wait to post the next chapter when it becomes ready.
Thank you for your wonderful words and encouragement. It's exciting to know that I have your attention, dear reader, and your interest in Cerys and her love of Lancelot. As I have said many times, each time meaning it truly, your words help move my pen.
Cardeia
