Happily Ever Aftering – TLW Style
A Camelot Addendum
by rann
Disclaimer: The characters from "Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's The Lost World" are owned by Telescene, NewLine Television, The Over the Hill Gang, Coote/Hayes, etc. No profit is being made from this story. No infringement upon copyrighted material is intended.
Setting: Within the episode Camelot.
Spoilers: Major ones from Camelot, small ones from More Than Human, Nectar, Cave of Fear, Absolute Power, hints of Unnatural Selection
Description: A little speculation on what went on between Marguerite being injured and the explorers' arrival at the treehouse. It's a lighthearted look, as you might expect from reading the title.
Thanks: A thank you to Ariadne and CMS who gave me feedback more than a year earlier when this was just parts of a story in development. Thank you to Santa Crux who heeded the call for a beta reader, making me explain what was in my mind instead of having my readers develop telepathic skills. She also shared what was seen at the viewing of the first assembly of Camelot that didn't make it to our TV screens.
Episode Summary: While Marguerite is bathing, Gawain, a young boy king who rules a kingdom called Camelot, spies her. To avoid getting herself and Veronica killed Marguerite agrees to marry him. Veronica brings Roxton and Malone back to rescue Marguerite. Gawain's evil advisor, Vordred, is plotting to kill the king and convinces Gawain to send Roxton and Malone out to face a T-rex while Veronica is imprisoned in the stocks. Marguerite helps Veronica escape. While Veronica goes after Malone and Roxton, Marguerite stays behind to look after Gawain. Roxton returns in time to interfere with Vordred's plan to push a duel on the king.
In a joust and then a sword fight Roxton defeats Vordred……
Reluctantly Roxton had allowed Vordred to rise at Gawain's command. Standing up from his bow, Vordred threw the knife from his belt at Gawain. Marguerite desperately tried to push the young boy out of the way. The blade caught her on the right side. Savagely, Roxton rammed the sword he still gripped into the treacherous advisor's heart. "Yield this!" His words punctuated his action.
In a startling counterpoint to the fury that gripped him just seconds before, the hunter wrapped his arm around Marguerite, supporting her as he held her close.
"Close your eyes." His voice was firm as he gathered himself to do what needed to be done.
"Why?" Even with a knife protruding from her side, Marguerite wouldn't take orders.
"Close them." He was insistent and he gripped the knife.
Marguerite closed her eyes. "Why did I even ask?" The sarcasm in her tone was unmistakable.
As he held her, wincing slightly in sympathy, he pulled the knife from her side. With a gasp she collapsed further into his arms. He dropped to his knees, holding her tenderly. Her voice was barely audible as her eyes flickered open and she whispered, "My knight in shining armour." to the man who nestled her in his arms, his fingers thrust into her curls as he supported her head; her tenuous hold on consciousness slipping away.
"You'll be fine." He'd responded, although whether he was trying to convince her or himself he couldn't be certain. He knelt there holding her.
She remained unconscious. Her head was cushioned on his chest. Her blood stained his shirt. His fingers remained threaded through her soft hair.
"You'll be fine." It had become his mantra. "You'll be fine."
It was just like her to stubbornly refuse to open her eyes and reassure him with some snide remark purposely made to infuriate him. He berated himself for having listened to the boy king. He knew men like Vordred couldn't be trusted. His instincts told him to run him through, or at the very least, have him bound while holding him at sword point. He hadn't listened to those instincts, now Marguerite had paid the price.
"Roxton." His name sounded from far away, from someone standing over him. He wished they would just be quiet in case Marguerite wanted to whisper something else.
"Roxton!" Through the haze surrounding his senses, he finally identified the voice as Veronica. He managed to focus his eyes on her face. "We need to take care of that wound. Let's carry her inside."
Roxton nodded numbly. Malone bent to help carry their injured companion. "No!" The hunter's sharp tone startled his friends. The hunter realized the reporter only wanted to help and made himself add in an easier voice, "I can manage." He carefully rose to his feet enfolding her unconscious form in his arms so as not to jar the woman he spent more enjoyable hours arguing with than he ever had wooing another woman.
Veronica held a flap back on the tent to allow Roxton to enter. Malone led the way to make sure they had a bed ready to lay her on.
"Put the brave lassie here." Esme's bulk bustled efficiently around the tent, gathering the necessary supplies.
Roxton gently deposited his burden on the bed. "Veronica, see if you can undo those fastenings. We need to get this out of the way." Veronica nodded and began to open Marguerite's gown as Roxton supported her.
"Here now, none of that!" Esme towered over the hunter as he knelt by the bed.
"But we have to -" Roxton protested.
"I'll take care of that. You're not her husband." She looked him over appraisingly. "Though, you might do for her." She paused. "If you work at it."
Despite the seriousness of Marguerite's wound, Veronica and Malone couldn't help exchanging smiles at the thought of Roxton not being good enough for Marguerite and at the idea of the pair, who argued like cats and dogs, being married.
"Now, the two of you, begone." Esme shooed Malone & Roxton out.
"So it looks like you have to live up to Marguerite." Malone teased expecting one of Roxton's typical dry responses.
Roxton thought of the serving woman who had just tossed him out. "That woman reminds me of my own childhood nurse. Always was damned perceptive."
Roxton paced outside the tent entrance. Darting quick glances to the entrance failed to hurry any news. Veronica remained inside. Malone had disappeared earlier, probably collecting stories for his bloody journals.
From some short distance away, Gawain sized up the man to whom he owed so much, but knew so very little about. This lord from England who was as brave and as valiant as one of the legendary Knights of the Round Table. He recognized the fact that nominally Roxton had acted as his champion, but in reality he was the champion of the Lady Marguerite, her paladin as in the legends of old.
When Vordred had pointed out the love between this English lord and the beautiful lady Gawain had claimed, the young king had denied it could exist. But in his heart he had been afraid Vordred was right. To his shame, he knew that was why he had seized upon the opportunity of sending Lord Roxton and his squire after the dragon. He had wanted his competition out of the way. And then despite all that, despite his ignoring the Lady Marguerite's pleas for him to call a halt to the sentence, this man, Roxton, who was noble in truth as well as in title, came back and saved not only his life, but his crown as well.
If he had needed further evidence of the love between the two, Marguerite's words as she collapsed and Lord Roxton's actions to defend and then care for her were more than enough. The Lady Marguerite had taken him to task over his failings as a ruler. Now it was time to take her admonishments to heart. He took a deep breath and crossed the camp to the tent where Marguerite lay.
"Lord Roxton!" Gawain's youthful voice halted the hunter's pacing as he approached him.
"Your Highness." Roxton acknowledged his presence with a bow of his head, his eyes darting to the tent entrance for easily the hundredth time in the past fifteen minutes.
"Esme will take good care of her. She actually has grown to like the Lady Marguerite."
"No easy task." The hunter's voice was gruffer than Gawain had heard it.
"She's very beautiful." Gawain watched the English lord as he resumed his pacing. "And very brave." His lordship's lips tightened. The young king took a deep breath gathering his nerve and continued, "I didn't give her a choice. My retainers would have killed her and the one called Veronica, if she didn't agree to marry me."
Roxton swiveled around on the young king. Gawain stood his ground ready to take the blow that he knew he had earned from this man who was in love with Lady Marguerite.
Roxton stopped himself with an effort, closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. Marguerite had taken the boy under her wing; she wouldn't like it if he thrashed the lad like he deserved. "She made the decision to stay and help you. She could have escaped with Veronica."
"As I said, she's very brave. May I ask you a question, Lord Roxton?"
"Of course, Your Highness."
"How….how did you know that Vordred would not surrender?"
Roxton regarded the boy thoughtfully. This wasn't a question he had been expecting. "He had already been proven false to his oaths. There was no reason to think he would honor this one."
"You are of the nobility of England, correct?"
"Yes, Your Highness, but much has changed since your ancestors left. "
"I know. The Lady Marguerite told me there are no longer knights in shining white armour." Gawain watched the English nobleman as his words hit home. "She apparently changed her mind."
"With Marguerite, one is never sure of her meaning. I'm sure she meant nothing by it." Roxton didn't let himself hope that she had come to view him as her hero. "It was just a…joke."
"Surely she wouldn't jest when she was hurt?"
Roxton paused, thinking back to the number of flip comments Marguerite had made, in an attempt to disguise her fear or worry. A ruse that had been fairly successful with Veronica and Malone, but he had seen through that ploy early on. "Nothing is more likely." He finally said to Gawain. "She doesn't like to admit to a weakness."
Gawain considered this. Then his mind moved to a different topic. This man, who could defend his lady and his vassals by the sword, also seemed to have knowledge of the ways of leaders. "Do the royalty of your England still have advisors?"
"Oh, yes."
"How do they choose them?"
"That depends on what they want. Do they want someone to confirm what they say and tell them they're right? Or do they want someone who'll give an honest opinion and let them know if they're making a mistake?"
"The Lady Marguerite told me it takes more than a crown to make one a king."
Roxton smiled; he could almost hear her saying those words. "I told you, liking her was no easy task."
"But it is easy to love her." The young king eyed him knowingly.
The hunter turned away from him again, his mouth a thin line. This was not a topic he would discuss with the young king. "Damn, is my infatuation with her that obvious that even a boy can see it?" The English lord didn't like to think he was acting like a love-struck fool. "And it's only infatuation." He argued convincingly to himself. "Any red-blooded man would want a woman like Marguerite."
Gawain hesitated to bother the lord further, but knew of no one else he could ask. "Lord Roxton, how do I choose an advisor?"
Roxton paused as he considered the question. "Listen for someone who will tell you what is good for your people, not you, not himself, not the nobles. They may not always say things in the most flattering terms and sometimes the advice is hard to follow, but it's likely to be sound." Roxton was relieved that the conversation was veering away from Marguerite.
"Suppose a king discovers that he was in the wrong," Gawain studiously kept his gaze focused on his camp, "what should he do?"
"One might hope that a king would have the maturity and integrity to admit his failings. We all have them, but only when you recognize them can you correct them." Roxton's voice was patient and gentle.
"Thank you, I can see I have a great deal of work to do." Gawain looked about. "Where is your squire?"
"Malone's not my squire, he's my friend. They are all my friends. I think Ned is talking to your people. He wants to learn as much as he can about you. He's a journalist." Roxton saw the word didn't mean anything to Gawain. "It's like a minstrel. He gives the news and tells stories about other lands."
Veronica stepped out from the tent. Roxton took a tentative step and found it difficult to breathe.
"She's fine. She's still out and she's lost a lot of blood so she'll probably be a little on the weak side for a while, but other than that she's going to be okay."
The air flooded back into Roxton's lungs. A relieved smile relaxed the grim lines on his face. He stepped eagerly toward the tent.
"Don't wake her up. Esme will throttle you." Puzzled, Veronica watched Roxton disappear into the tent. Her two housemates might bicker as Professor Summerlee would say, but whenever they were together they gravitated to each other, like iron to the magnet in Professor Challenger's lab. She shook her head at such contradictory behavior, unable to see the attraction the flint-hearted beauty held for a man who was as good as Roxton. She looked back to see the young king at her side.
"Lady Veronica, thank you for your care of the Lady Marguerite." A pause, and then Gawain continued on determinedly, "I owe you apologies for how you have been treated here." Gawain was determined to take the advice he had been given. He knew this was right, but as a king, he was not accustomed to asking for forgiveness.
Veronica smiled. It had all worked out in the end. Malone was bursting with pride over killing the T-rex. Marguerite was going to recover and had been so worried about Gawain that she never did raise a fuss over her jewels being put at risk as the dowry. And she even got to see a storybook joust in real life without Roxton being hurt.
"Everything is all right. We just need to get Marguerite back to our treehouse so she can recover."
"Would you accept the gift of some horses?"
"I'm grateful, but we really couldn't take care of them."
"May I at least loan some animals to you to aid you in your return home? I'll send someone with you to bring them back." He looked anxious to provide some service to those who had been wronged by him.
"That would be very nice, …Your Highness." Veronica added the title as an afterthought. "I should find my other friend."
"Lady Veronica." Gawain smiled as she walked away in search of the man Malone. Across the field he watched as the blonde woman touched the shoulder of the man writing in the book. Malone smiled at her and stood up. They stood together somewhat awkwardly. These two were like young people of the court, anxious to be together but not sure what to do. Gawain watched wistfully. Growing up as a king had given him a different perspective than most young people and some advantages, but sometimes he missed that part of life.
Inside the tent, the solitary occupant, Marguerite, lay on the bed, her loose hair spread enticingly over the pillow, a sheet covering most of her, her left shoulder bare. A bandage was wrapped around the other shoulder holding a pad against the wound.
Roxton stepped silently to her bedside. He studied her. Even sleeping she was exquisite, but he missed the fire in her eyes. Her fair skin was paler than the sheet. He brushed a strand of her hair from her forehead. He enjoyed the silky feel of it and only rarely had the opportunity to indulge himself. He stopped his hand before he caressed her cheek. He didn't want to chance waking her.
His eyes never left the face of his sleeping companion, but his instincts had told him when Esme had reentered the tent. Roxton didn't start in surprise when the nurse's quiet voice broke the silence.
"She'll be fine, your lordship." Esme's voice was reassuring, practiced at soothing the hurts of fine gentlemen. "I'll take good care of her, that I will."
Roxton lifted his head and saw that Esme had brought in a gown for Marguerite. "Get her clothes. She's going back with me." The hunter didn't need to shout or bluster, the strength of command from years of being Lord Roxton as well as his years of military service lent the necessary authority to his quiet voice. There was no hint of doubt in his tone although mentally he crossed his fingers and hoped he was right.
However, Esme had spent too many years as the nurse in charge of a king to be easily overawed. "We'll be seeing what my king has to say about that." She looked defiantly at the self-possessed lord. Roxton's steady gaze caused her to drop her eyes.
Roxton looked a moment longer at the serving woman and then glanced back down at the still unconscious Marguerite. A wry smile twisted his lips. "Actually, we'd better see what Marguerite has to say." He made the admission ruefully.
Studying the pair, Esme looked pleased. "He might do very well for her, indeed." But she kept the thought to herself; one shouldn't let a gentleman get above himself. Still she'd give him a moment's privacy.
Gawain finished giving the commands for dismantling the camp. It was a small thing, but it felt strange yet somehow right to be issuing orders without Vordred's guidance.
"I'm sure you'll be pleased, Your Highness." Ugo strove to ingratiate himself towards the king in the manner of a true sycophant, as he bowed with the other retainers. The others backed away, but Ugo stayed looking at the young king expectantly.
"Off with you now." Gawain waved his hand at him, exasperated.
As his vassals hurried off, Gawain surveyed the hunting camp. It was time to get back to the castle once they said farewell to his new-found friends. Vordred's collaborators had to be ferreted out. His planning was interrupted as Esme drew back the tent flap.
"How is the Lady Marguerite?"
"Well, now, Your Highness, she hasn't stirred, but you shouldn't be thinking that it means too much. She's had a hard couple of days and all."
Gawain flushed. Much of the Lady Marguerite's ordeal was because of her rescue of her friend from the stocks and her worry over Lord Roxton and their friend Malone facing the dragon. He was responsible for that. She had literally begged him not to do this, but he had gone ahead stubbornly. Childishly and jealously, if he was being honest with himself. Now it was time to make amends.
"Prepare the Lady Marguerite for travel, Esme." At her inquiring look, Gawain clarified his command. "She'll want to leave with her friends when she wakes."
"Aye, Your Highness." Esme's face reflected her pride in him. "The Lady Marguerite's a fine woman, finer than I first realized, but she's not the right one for my king." She curtseyed and said, "I'll be getting her ready." She looked back at the young king she'd raised for so many years and, as she saw his face so serious, couldn't resist adding in the voice that had comforted a young boy many times in the past, "You made the right decision, sire."
A few minutes later Roxton joined Gawain outside, Esme having evicted him again. His lordship could hold his own against raptors and apemen, but conceded defeat to a nursemaid. There were some forces that a wise man knew he was not meant to prevail against.
They were silent a few minutes, before Gawain addressed Roxton again.
"Lord Roxton, would you mind if I took a few minutes with your Lady Marguerite? I'd like to bid her farewell when she wakes."
It was on the tip of Roxton's tongue to deny fervently that he had any proprietary interest in Marguerite, but he thought better of it. "After all, if Gawain realizes I have no claim on Marguerite, he might want to keep her with him and we're back where we started." The reasoning made enough sense to him so he was able to ignore the jolt that went through him at the thought of Marguerite not returning to the treehouse with him, or rather them.
"I'm sure Marguerite will want to say good-bye to you as well." Roxton replied smoothly.
Gawain nodded then entered the tent. Roxton looked at the sun's position in the sky. It was going to be a near thing to make the treehouse by dark, especially if Marguerite's injury slowed them down. Once again he felt a sinking in the pit of his stomach as the idea that Marguerite might decide not to return with them intruded.
"What will Marguerite say to Gawain? What if she decides that being treated like a queen until we find a way off the plateau is a better choice than our rougher life in the treehouse? Staying in Camelot would certainly give her an opportunity to garner more precious stones. She'd have people at her command to complete the geological surveys that she often said she wanted to do."
Roxton stared blankly at the tent, not sure what he'd do if that was the choice she made. He didn't like to admit it but he'd grown to count on her for many of the more lighthearted moments he had. She was the one with a background that seemed to mirror his, who understood the little bits of home that he sometimes longed for. And she would match him in bantering, affecting the drawing room manners that pushed back his longing for his England. He recalled the bit of nonsense that had lightened their afternoon a few days ago…..Some days prior
The afternoon was quiet in the treehouse. Soft strains of Chopin on the gramophone filled the air. The sunlight was slanting in. At the table Malone was writing in his journals, Marguerite was stitching some handkerchiefs. Veronica was just packing away her paints.
Roxton came from the kitchen area with a tray holding teapot and cups. "So who's going to pour out?"
Marguerite looked up unsmiling, unwilling to play along or relax her guard among her companions. "It's Veronica's home."
"Pour out?" The term puzzled the jungle-raised girl.
"Serve a proper English tea." Malone put in with a bit of affectation. Roxton grinned.
"I wouldn't know a thing about it." Veronica looked intrigued at what her housemates would consider a proper tea to be.
Seeing three faces turned towards her, Marguerite relented. "This bit of silliness can't hurt my reputation that much." she convinced herself. "All right." Although she sounded exasperated, she promptly put aside her sewing and drew the tea tray towards her. She picked up the pot and poured out a cup. "Miss Layton, one lump or two?" Her tone and accent were proper English drawing room to the life.
"Lumps?"
"Of sugar," Ned explained smiling at the nonsense.
"One." Veronica looked baffled, but willing to join the fun.
Handing the cup across, Marguerite looked at the hunter who had instigated the gag. "Lord Roxton, it seems to be the butler's day off, would you be so kind as to inform the professors that tea is ready."
"Delighted to be of service, my lady." Marguerite gave a slight start at being referred to as 'my lady', but decided that it was just part of the game.
Veronica giggled at Roxton's bow.
"Mr. Malone, how many lumps for you?"
"I think I've had enough lumps." Ned rubbed the back of his head as he spoke.
Marguerite was unable to suppress a smile and Veronica laughed outright. As Marguerite handed the reporter the teacup, Roxton returned from the lab with the professors in tow.
"What no crumpets?" The English nobleman teased mildly.
"Crumpets are quite passé, you see them simply everywhere, milord. All the best houses have stopped serving them." Marguerite's hauteur in voice and manner was offset by the mischief in her eyes.
"Ah, we certainly must stay in fashion." Roxton played along, glad to see Marguerite joining in the fun so completely.
Marguerite smiled at Summerlee and prepared his cup, handing it to him
"Thank you, my dear. When Anna was alive she always made sure I had my afternoon tea." Marguerite's smile softened as she regarded the elderly botanist whose eyes were misty over his teacup.
Roxton enjoyed seeing her remember how Summerlee liked his tea. It spoke to him about her fondness for the scientist.
"Professor Challenger, how many lumps?"
The red-headed scientist appeared somewhat perplexed by the game glancing among the smiling faces. "Two." He took the cup with a gruff, "Thank you."
Looking down she fixed another cup. "Lord Roxton." She held out the cup.
"Thank you, my lady." He wondered if she realized that she fixed his tea precisely as he enjoyed it.
"Well, there you have it, Veronica. All the requirements for a proper English tea." Marguerite sipped at her own tea, enjoying the time with her companions despite herself.
"What a wonderful idea, it does recall home." Professor Summerlee smiled again lost in fond memory.
"That it does, Professor." Roxton sipped at the beverage in the china cup. The simple ritual had staved off homesickness this time.
"I understand about the sugar. But what's a crumpet?" At Veronica's question the laughter burst across the room.
Roxton smiled at the memory. It had been one of the good days at the treehouse; doubly treasured because a day of companionship and laughter contrasted so sharply with the times of peril they so frequently faced.
His eyes surveyed the medieval camp marveling again at some of the fantastical encounters they had experienced on the plateau. Gossiping servants spoke behind their hands as they looked at the English nobleman and then at the tent housing the Lady Marguerite. Serving girls sighed as they covertly eyed the handsome lord. As they passed, they curtsied to this hero who seemed to embody the virtues of the knights of their history.
As Roxton watched, some of Gawain's lackeys began the process of taking down one of the tents. He let his gaze drift over the jousting field and that darkened his mood as his thoughts then wandered to earlier that day.
Veronica had found them at the base of the ridge where Malone had stopped the T-rex by causing a minor avalanche. "Although as the rocks had tumbled down it hadn't seemed that minor." Roxton gave a mental grimace in remembrance. He managed to scramble out of the way, choking on the dust. It had taken several moments to get his breath back, enough time for Malone to begin a frantic search for him. Then Veronica showed up and his first thought upon seeing her was that she and Marguerite had escaped and that they could all just head for the treehouse. It was a fleeting sense of relief that was soon burst like a bubble.
Some hours earlier at the rockslide
"Looks like we won't need that tooth after all." Roxton brushed himself off, and then frowned, noticing Marguerite wasn't in sight as Veronica scrambled down to join them.
"How did you escape from the stocks?" Malone stood offering a hand to help Veronica climb down the last couple of feet.
"Marguerite got me out. We barely managed to evade the guards." Veronica looked around in amazement at the rockslide that had taken out Gawain's 'dragon'.
"Was she hurt? Did you send her on to the treehouse on her own?" Roxton wasn't aware of the sudden intensity of his questions.
"No, she went back to the camp. She said she was going to look after Gawain." Veronica's voice reflected how unhappy she was with that decision.
"Marguerite? Look after somebody?" Ned's disbelief was apparent.
Roxton didn't say anything to that, but he was reminded how she was on his heels as they raced down to rescue Ned and Veronica from Dirkon's slavers', how she fought hand to hand with the vicious scavengers. How she dispatched the dinosaur that Ned was too frightened to shoot while they were on their way to rescue Challenger from the Manuins.
He remembered how she always looked after Summerlee, whether it was protecting him from lizard assassins, comforting an ailing old man, wanting to rescue him from a dinosaur when he slipped or insisting Roxton grant him the time to catch his breath.
Looking after a kid who'd caused her nothing but grief, "Typical," was Roxton's thought. Every time he was sure he had her pegged as completely selfish and self-centered, she'd turn around and do something brave and caring.
Out loud Roxton's only comment was, "We'd better get back to her. She may think she can handle a bastard like Vordred, but he has Gawain to use as leverage." Roxton tried to reassure himself with thoughts of how Marguerite had managed to manipulate foes like Tribune and Kiren in the past.
They'd dug the tooth out of T-rex with only a little difficulty. At least it wasn't difficult compared to most things in the Lost World. They had made it back to the encampment, in time to see Marguerite interpose herself between Gawain and Vordred.
Roxton's anger had grown at the danger she was in, at the danger Vordred's scheming had put them all in. It was time for a reckoning with that son of a bitch, so he had taken up the challenge quite willingly. He was looking forward to venting his spleen.
Marguerite had come over to them, eyes scanning him, then Malone, and then they rested on Roxton again. He knew he looked a little worse for wear. Evading the myriad boulders and rocks had left its mark.
Marguerite had pulled out a lace-edged handkerchief and soaked it in a nearby water jug.
"Here, you have a scrape there." She pressed the cool water to the back of his neck, cleaning the raw spot just below his shirt collar. He winced.
"Since Malone decided to drop a cliff on me, I feel fortunate that's all that's wrong." Marguerite's eyes flickered briefly at that but she didn't rise to the bait. She was sure to get the whole story later.
"Well, since I've frequently been tempted to push you off a cliff, I rather think I can empathize with Malone." She stretched to inspect the wound. Roxton obliging tilted his head. "We should bandage it."
"It'll keep. Here, I'll take that." Roxton took Marguerite's handkerchief from her hand and tucked it in his shirt pocket. "If I'm going to joust for you, I'm at least entitled to a lady's favour." He was only half teasing.
"And just what were you thinking of, agreeing to the joust. Why didn't you just shoot him?" Marguerite's worry distracted her from the handkerchief as she scolded him.
"When I saw the two of you confronting him, I didn't think I had time to detour and pick up our guns." Roxton had counted on Vordred's pride in picking up the verbal gauntlet he had thrown to prevent him from harming Marguerite and Gawain. "Besides just shooting him out of hand doesn't seem very sportsmanlike." Roxton smiled, but Marguerite was having none of it.
"This is no joke, Roxton. Vordred's power mad. He's out for blood. If he didn't stick at making an attempt on Gawain's life, he won't hesitate a moment over killing you." Marguerite's eyes were as worried as when Gawain had sent him to face the T-rex.
"It'll be all right. You'll see. I can do this." Roxton made himself speak with confidence. "Go now. I have to get ready." He told himself that it was only a bit of foolishness, part of the games they'd some times play that had him taking her hand and raising it to his lips. "My lady." He intended his words to be lighthearted and provoke a smile, but he realized uncomfortably, that he was developing a distinctly proprietary attitude towards Marguerite. She caught her breath confused suddenly as to whether he was teasing or not and if she wanted him to be serious. To cover the moment, Roxton licked his lips and then said, "I'd best see what the well dressed knight is wearing these days."
She'd controlled her involuntary start to his words. In a moment she realized he couldn't have known of her cynical quip to Gawain that there were 'no white knights in shining armour'. Experience had quickly quashed that girlhood dream. And no matter how many times he saved her, she wasn't going to let this virile man in battered khakis resurrect those dreams.
She'd left but the anxiety lingered on. Roxton saw it again in her eyes as she sat on the dais next to Gawain. Their eyes locked briefly before he focused on his opponent and awaited the young king's signal.
The joust had gone better than he expected. Vordred may have had more experience but too many years of giving commands to others to do his dirty work and facing only the untried had left him ill-prepared to face man like Roxton. Roxton's confidence had grown when they traded lances for swords.
As Roxton stared at the field still marked by the flags for the joust he relived the horror he felt. Once more he saw Marguerite collapse, Vordred's knife protruding from her side. He'd reacted on pure instinct, a protective instinct that blotted out all other thoughts. He could have easily knocked Vordred out with the hilt of his sword. He'd known at some level when he grasped the treacherous advisor that he was likely unarmed and couldn't harm anyone else; but none of that mattered. Vordred had hurt Marguerite and now he was going to pay the price.
Vengeance was not a pretty thing to own up to, but he didn't regret it. He'd never done anything like this. Not even to Pierson Rice back in Kenya. A man he now loathed. Not even during the war. Certainly he had killed, but revenge against the enemy was not the emotion that had driven him. He had killed to protect others before, but always his opponent was armed, dangerous, there were no other options. Always he tried to make the offer to let them live.
Not this time and the only emotion he felt was satisfaction that Vordred was dead. He gazed once more at the tent where Marguerite lay. If he was truthful another emotion was under the surface. "No, not yet," he counseled himself. "I'm not ready. She's not ready." He pushed back those thoughts.
Roxton's attention to the tent's entrance was diverted by Veronica and Malone's approach. Following close behind them were several of Gawain's men leading horses.
"I think it's a little late for the cavalry, Malone."
"Better late than never." Malone chuckled. "We thought you might like the chance to ride rather than walk back to the treehouse. Besides we have something else you'll want."
One of Gawain's men approached with Roxton's guns and pack. With a grin Roxton buckled on his holster, once again feeling prepared to deal with whatever the jungle might throw at him.
"What kind of saddle is that?" Veronica studied the horses, noticing one of the saddles had a stirrup only on one side.
Roxton glanced over and then back at the entrance to the tent. He didn't respond, his mind still on Marguerite's injuries and whether she would decide to return with them. As he watched, one of Gawain's lackeys pulled the tent flap back and Gawain and Marguerite emerged, her hand resting formally on his arm.
With a cool poise, she carried herself as if she was still wore a medieval gown rather than the riding jodhpurs that were so incongruous in this setting. Roxton gave an internal sigh of relief as he realized she was returning with them. To see her up and moving around also eased his mind. As he glanced at the horse again a bit of mischief crept into his eyes.
"Lady Marguerite, Lord Roxton. God speed and take with you the gratitude of the kingdom of Camelot and its ruler." Gawain's voice was raised formally. He paused for the cheers from the gathered crowd. Esme beamed with pride in her young king and in gratitude to these outsiders who saved him. "For your services to the Crown, We declare you subjects of Our kingdom. If ever you or your friends have need of Our services, you have only to say the word." Esme and the king's other retainers who watched bowed and curtsied.
Gawain motioned to one of his courtiers to approach. Taking a drawstring bag from the bowing retainer, Gawain handed it to Marguerite. "Your dowry, my lady. I must, of course, return it since I sadly cannot keep its even more worthy owner."
Marguerite smiled, pleased at the courtly words. Taking the bag she briefly glared at her three companions over the appropriation of her jewelry. They hastily broke eye contact, all of them finding a sudden interest in the surrounding scenery.
Risking a look at his temperamental companion Roxton asked, "Would you like me to take care of that for you?" The candlesticks and picture frame had made for a bulkier package than just her gems.
Marguerite handed it over with some reluctance. "See that you don't give it away between here and the treehouse." The hunter's lips twitched with stifled amusement at her sarcasm, as he stowed the bag in his rucksack.
Ceremoniously Roxton offered his arm to Marguerite. She glanced about aware of the audience and with a raised eyebrow for the English nobleman, rested her hand and forearm on his arm in the same formal manner she'd used with Gawain.
"How are you feeling?" Roxton's voice was quiet as he escorted her.
"Oh, me? I'm fine. Just fine." Her airy voice discouraged questions. She gave him a quizzical look as they approached the caparisoned horses.
"My lady, your steed awaits." The hunter let a bit of humor creep into his voice.
Marguerite regarded the horses with real delight. Roxton escorted her to the one with the sidesaddle. At first Marguerite didn't notice the horse's tack.
"What a beauty you are!" Her hand stroked the nose of the gelding, who nickered in response, accepting the praise as his due.
She saw the sidesaddle and looked at the tall English nobleman questioningly.
"Apparently, it's part of the image. After all you were nearly their queen." He couldn't resist baiting her. He'd been looking forward to her reaction. He hadn't seriously expected her to ride sidesaddle. In England it was more common nowadays for most modern ladies to ride astride. "However, we should probably ask for a replacement." The hunter intended, now that he had his fun, to provide her with a more secure saddle.
"No need." Marguerite's response was cool. One part of her worried, after all it had been years since she'd done this, but she hated backing down from a challenge. "I wouldn't want to spoil the image." Her voice matched in his in smoothness. "However, I will need a mounting block."
One of the grooms approached ready to assist her, but Roxton shook him off.
"Are you sure?" The English lord asked the question quietly. Teasing was one thing, but he didn't want her to risk further injury trying to prove a point.
"I assure you, Lord Roxton, that I have any number of skills." "Although," she admitted to herself, "learning to ride sidesaddle all those years ago wasn't one I ever expected to use again."
"That, I never doubted." He offered her his linked hands as a step, and eased her into the saddle. She winced slightly despite the deliberate gentleness of the movement. He took a few minutes to check the adjustment of the stirrup.
"How gallant of you." Marguerite was amused with the hunter's solicitude.
"I have an image to keep up as well." Roxton quirked an eyebrow at her. He was not unaware of the speculation by Gawain's people that had gone on over his defense of Marguerite and Gawain. "You're sure that you'll be all right?"
At her nod, Roxton swung into his saddle onto the same war-trained horse he'd been given for the joust. The grooms that would follow to bring back the horses hurriedly followed suit.
"Our thanks to you." Gawain's words followed them as they urged the horses on to the cheers of Camelot's people.
As they approached the open field Veronica couldn't resist. "Race you to the stream, Ned!" She kicked her heels into horse's side and galloped across the meadow, with the reporter right behind her calling, "No fair!"
Roxton and Marguerite watched amused.
"Now that's not such a bad idea." Marguerite tapped her heel in the horse's flank.
"No! Wait! Marguerite!" Roxton called frantically as her horse eagerly loped across the wide field. With a curse the English lord took off after her.
At first the exhilaration of the ride, brought a smile to the Marguerite's face. It had been too long since she'd had the pleasure of being on horseback. The horse stumbled slightly over the uneven ground. Although the gelding quickly recovered its footing, Marguerite lurched awkwardly in the unaccustomed saddle. She realized her mistake in attempting the canter as she tried to regain her balance. As she reined in she felt the world growing dark for the second time that day. "Damn, not again, I don't faint."
Roxton reached her side in time to see her sway. Leaning across, he wrapped one arm around her waist and plucked her from the saddle. He used his knees to guide the horse with a silent thank you to whoever had the good sense to give him a well-trained animal. He pulled the dark haired beauty across his saddle so she rested with her head against his chest.
As he leaned back in the saddle the horse, recognizing the rider's signal, slowed to a walk. One of the grooms hurriedly took up the reins of Marguerite's mount. The gelding had stopped in confusion at the sudden loss of his rider. In a moment, Marguerite's eyes fluttered open. She looked disoriented for an instant. Glancing around she realized what had happened. Colour tinted her cheeks, a sharp contrast to her pallor.
"A swoon. How ladylike of you." Roxton gibed, noting that she was still too pale for his liking.
"I don't –" Her spirited retort broke off as she saw the relief in the hunter's eyes. His intent had apparently been to ensure she was feeling better. "Rescuing damsels on horseback, Roxton? Is this from Sir Walter Scott or H. Rider Haggard?" She slid back into their normal mode of teasing to cover her confusion at being held so closely. "How medieval of you."
"Goes with the image, don't you think." He lifted his eyebrows as he nodded his head towards the grooms who watched from a slight distance, obviously impressed with the rescue of the Lady Marguerite. Despite his light-hearted response, he took time to shift her more comfortably in his arms.
"You can put me back now." Marguerite was aware of feeling altogether too content in his arms. This didn't suit her independent streak. She shook her head ruefully, "Wouldn't you know, the first time on horseback in ages and I can't even manage a damn canter." She wet her lips, thinking she needed to get some distance from the hunter who was too attractive for his own good. "It's not fair to ask your horse to carry us both."
"He's been bred to take a man in a suit of armour. I think he can handle having both of us on his back for a bit." He found himself enjoying her presence. "Besides, you said you wanted to canter. I think if we work it right, we can manage that." Holding her even more snugly against his chest to prevent the jarring of her shoulder, he squeezed the horse's sides gently with his legs. Smoothly, the walk slipped into a canter. Roxton automatically adjusted to the horses stride, cushioning his charge from too much jarring.
Roxton glanced down at Marguerite. Apparently they shared a love of horses and riding. Her smile was echoed on his face. He allowed himself to enjoy the feeling of holding her in his arms. Her head resting against his shoulder. Her seeming fragility was belied by the competency she displayed in the face of the dangers they'd encountered on the plateau. He wouldn't have been the man he was if the contrast didn't intrigue him.
All too soon the meadow gave way to the tangled jungle path. Leaning back he again slowed the horse to a walk. Marguerite's eyes flickered ahead on the trail. There was no sign yet of Malone and Veronica. Roxton knew she worried about having their companions see her held in his arms. "Fair enough," he thought. He had no desire to have a nosy reporter and a blunt jungle girl speculating about his interest in their housemate.
"Maybe I should try riding my own horse again." Marguerite stroked the horse's withers. "Your horse has certainly done more than his share."
While Roxton on one level agreed with her, he found he loathed the idea of letting her go.
And that was when he realized he needed to put some distance between them. A flirtation, a brief affair would be one thing but this was turning into something more. Something he wasn't ready for. He looked at the head that rested against his chest; the soft hair tucked seductively against his neck and chin and fought the desire to tighten his hold.
Challenger was off with Summerlee on one of their plant gathering expeditions, but he had spoken yesterday about wanting to do a little more exploring of some of the rivers. "Maybe I should offer to be part of that excursion." Put some distance between himself and the woman who fit so perfectly in his arms. She had shown herself exceedingly capable in the past. She didn't need him to take care of her.
She moved and winced. He frowned in sympathy. All right, maybe he'd wait a bit before letting her fend for herself. Make sure she was healed, but then it was time to put a bit of space between them.
Marguerite shifted in his arms. Once again she reminded herself that she needed to stop clinging. She wasn't the clinging sort, but right now it was so tempting. She was sore and tired. She blamed the loss of blood. That and the worry she'd been through these past days. She needed some time apart from Roxton.
She thought about the other residents of the treehouse. Summerlee, yes, that was an idea. He was talking about getting some photographs of the herbivores. Veronica said that the fields they frequented weren't normally bothered by raptors. She'd go with Summerlee on his next trek.
But that was for another day, as long as she didn't make it a habit, she'd let herself take what comfort she could for now.
In what seemed to both explorers too short a time, Roxton reluctantly signaled the horse to a stop. Carefully cradling the woman in his arms he dismounted. The grooms rode up bringing Marguerite's mount forward.
"Ready to try again?" Roxton eyed his companion. Her color seemed better.
"I think I can manage it."
Not bothering to put her down Roxton lifted her into the saddle. She felt for the stirrup with her right foot. Roxton handed her the reins cautioning, "No more dashing about."
"You've pulled off enough heroics for one day, Roxton. We'll take it as easy as if this was the bridle path in Hyde Park." Her eyes danced as she provoked a smile from him at the comparison of a dinosaur-infested jungle with the civilized environs of the London promenade.
In an easy move, Roxton was back into the saddle. One hand touched his shirt pocket to be sure his lady's favour was still secure. It seemed a most appropriate souvenir of his stint as a knight.
The tangled undergrowth prevented anything but a walk. Marguerite welcomed the chance to regain her strength. A few minutes later they caught up with Veronica and Ned who had halted to wait for them.
The path narrowed and the four companions rode single file. Their bodies moving easily with the horses' gentle gait. The long day and night had caught up with all of them and they rode in silence. After about twenty minutes the path widened. Ned and Veronica quickened the pace a bit, but Roxton took the precaution of getting slightly ahead of Marguerite and kept them both at a comfortable walk.
Still even with the easy ride, Marguerite was happy to glimpse the treehouse up ahead. She was feeling lightheaded again. Her shoulder ached horribly. A glance at her companions showed that they might be in better condition physically than she was, but everyone was on the edge of exhaustion
As they reached the clearing surrounding the treehouse, Ned and Veronica had already dismounted and turned the reins over to one of the grooms, who accepted their thanks with a brief bow. The blond pair went to pull the lever that called the elevator down.
Dismounting, Roxton looked around and saw Marguerite sway in the saddle. He quickly put his hands at her waist and lifted her down as the groom took the reins of her mount.
"Please thank King Gawain for the use of the horses." Roxton turned to the grooms, one hand still on Marguerite's arm steadying her where she stood at his side.
With a touch to the forelock in acknowledgement the grooms gathered the reins of the horses and were gone.
"One other thing…" Roxton faced Marguerite with a gleam in his eye."
Misliking the look, Marguerite asked cautiously, "Yes?"
"Next time you want a bath, let me know so I can be available for guard duty." He gave a knowing grin.
"In your dreams, Roxton. In your dreams."
finis
Author's Notes:
About the title – It was taken from the title song from the Broadway show Camelot.
"In short there's simply not
A more congenial spot
For happily ever aftering
Than here in Camelot"
And Marguerite at the epilogue of the episode says 'and they lived happily ever after' much to Roxton's amusement.
Of course 'happily ever after' always has a different spin in The Lost World.
Camelot was mostly written quite some time ago, but needed an ending. In my interest in finishing something up this summer, Santa Crux kindly offered her services as beta reader. After she saw the first assembly on Camelot at the 2005 Lost World Convention she also suggested that the knife removal scene and its dialogue be put in. Once J&G's summary of the TLW's end was complete my image of Roxton as Marguerite's 'knight' or paladin seemed to dovetail nicely with their plans for the couple.
Terminology
Paladin is, according to the American Heritage Dictionary, " A paragon of chivalry; a heroic champion."
Bards are armour for horses.
Caparison is the ornamental decoration on horses.
http/ilaria.veltri. regarding the saddles. I let Marguerite's sidesaddle be a more modern innovation than one out of the middle ages. I thought that appropriate since the ones Roxton, Malone, and Veronica used in the episode were not medieval ones either.
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