Reunion 2
As the Knights gathered their bearings once more, Lancelot, rose and said as he moved to stand next to his wife, "We will adjourn to discuss where these men found their final resting places, and in a days time, we will give you a listing of all their burial mounds. Sir Randolph, could you please escort our esteemed Sarmatian guests to the sixth floor where they can find food and beds after their long journey?"
Sir Randolph, who was currently being replaced by another announcer, stood straighter and said proudly, "It'll be my honor, Lord Lancelot."
Lancelot saw his little sister, Habren, raise her eyebrow curiously. He sighed in relief when she said, "Very well Lord Lancelot, King Arthur, thank you for your time and your audience. We shall await your findings on the morrow."
The other Sarmatians grumbled at being told what to do, especially Atilla, but obediently followed the youngest Sarmatian royal much to the Knights relief.
When the Hall was cleared, Arthur asked, "Lance, why didn't you tell your sister who you are? She and your brother have traveled far to find you."
Lancelot sat down wryly and said as he ran a hand though his curly hair, "It's not that I'm not glad to see them Arthur, far from it. It's just that, I feel uncomfortable in their presence. I mean they were my people! They are the dreams of my past, but now, they are a nightmare come to life. Sarmatians as a whole are not accepting of big changes. I am, or rather, I was, Prince of the Lion Tribe, Arthur. As the eldest and a royal, it was supposed to be my duty to marry and wed another Sarmatian woman to continue the pure bloodline of my ancestors. In fact, all of us had this duty as well."
Lancelot looked up and stared at his fellow ex-Sarmatians. As Arthur gazed upon them, they nodded regretfully and Bors added in, "My tribe, the Bear Tribe, is the worst of them all. When Tor, my little brother, and the others find out that I'm married to a Brit and have had children, or half-breed mongrels to them, with Vanny, they'll try to either kill them all or they'll disown me. Which isn't all that bad, but I'm more worried about the first response Arthur."
Dagonet nodded and Vanora bit her lip and held on tightly to Ula, who was sitting next to her.
Alma asked in alarm, "What should we expect from the other Tribes?"
Gawain hurried to reassure his wife, "The Wolf Tribe may not like it, but they will tolerate the fact that I have married a woman of non-pure Sarmatian blood."
Galahad nodded eagerly in support of his brother. Then he bit his lip and said uncertainly, "But it might be a battle for me to find acceptance though. Gawain is the first-born you see, but I'm the second. They may tolerate Briana and Belaya, but I'm not to sure of their reactions to Briac and Aithne."
Galahad saw and more importantly felt Enys take in a sharp breath and hurried to add, "Even if they dismiss our children as mongrels and try to make me return to the Tribe, I will not! I vowed to love and be with you for the rest of our days so long as our love and passions for one another burned brightly. I will not leave you here, my love."
Enys' smile is well worth the embarrassment I'm going to get from the others. Thought Galahad with a goofy smile.
Lancelot smiled at the younger couple, held his wife's hand reassuringly, and said calmly, "Do not worry about how the Lion Tribe will react to our children. The Lion Tribe is the most accepting of mixed marriages. There might be an argument about me not marrying a Sarmatian woman..."
He grew thoughtful and added, "I believe that there was talk of me marrying the princess of the Wolf Tribe before I left twenty years ago, but they will accept Cadman and the Twins easily enough. My tribe understands the need for mixed marriages because not only are the number of
Sarmatian males falling, but the family lines have been joined many times already, and there were fears of accidentally marrying a cousin when I was last there. My old Tribe's belief is simply this; yes the children are of mixed heritages, but that doesn't mean they can't be taught the culture and language of the Sarmatian people. Plus, by marrying into other races, it brings in new, desperately needed, blood."
Galahad snorted and said, "You were to be married to Agrimpasa? I'm glad you married Emmy then. No one deserves my twin sister as a wife. She's a whore and a whiney little brat!"
Enys and the others stared at him in shock as Gawain explained, "Yes, Galahad is a twin. Yes, he truly thinks that Agrimpasa is a whore and a whiney brat because it is true. My little sister lost her virginity at the age of ten with one of the older boys from our tribe. Mother said is was to teach her how to please her handsome future husband."
Lancelot felt a bit ill and looked at his friend and king. Arthur was thinking deeply. Arthur was unsure about what to do about the Sarmatian visitors. The Sarmatians would no doubt try and take his Knights back to Sarmatia when they found out just WHO they are, but they really came to see the Knights burial mounds. These people have traveled a long way to see the resting places of my Knights. They should be allowed to send the Knights off with honorable prayers in their own tongue, but I do not want them to remain here long. My Knights do NOT deserve their evil words and prejudices.
Habren, Tarkan, and the other Sarmatian travelers followed the smartly dressed man, and they had to stop abruptly as two pretty young girls with the dark skin tones of the Sarmatian people, appeared. They were talking to two pretty pale skinned older women. One was older and had ashy black hair and the other woman looked like she had Roman blood in her. Each Sarmatian felt their ire rise as the four, oblivious to their cultural differences, acted like friends.
"Lady Fulucina! Lady Blythe! Ladies Caoimhe and Dierdre! Are your studies concluded for the day already?" asked Sir Randolph with a respectful bow.
The group of Sarmatians was shocked when the Roman woman, who they expected to sneer and scorn at the nice, friendly man, smiled gently at Sir Randolph instead and said softly, "Yes Sir Randolph, we are. Today's lessons went by pretty fast. We are actually on our way to the Great Hall for the girls' weapons training. Lancelot said he wanted to test them on a few sword techniques before they trained with Galahad. Are they still there?"
Sir Randolph nodded and said eagerly, much to the Sarmatians' surprise, because they couldn't understand why a person would be happy at being ordered around-by a ROMAN no less, "Oh yes, my Lady! They are currently talking about the resting places of the Knights of the Past. These good people behind me, actually, are the Sarmatians that Lord Tristran's men escorted to Camelot this morning! They have come to find their lost loved ones and send them off with a proper Sarmatian funeral!"
Tarkan saw the woman labeled Lady Fulucina looked beyond the announcer and smiled slightly in welcome at them. Tarkan was wary of this seemingly harmless Roman. She appeared nice, but he had learned a long time ago that appearances could be deceiving.
The brown hared Roman woman smiled and said with a small curtsy, "Welcome 'Sons and Daughters of Sarmatia', may you find the loved ones you seek. May they prosper in the afterlife of freedom and come back as great horses!"
Atilla blinked and demanded rudely, "How is it that YOU, a high and mighty ROMAN Lady of court, know so much about our prayers?"
Fulucina bit her lip as she remembered her husband's stories about his tribe and how they viewed outsiders, Cina, my love, the people of my past…they cannot see what the world is truly about. They are so focused on themselves that they think all others are below them. That's one of the real reasons that Bors and I did not wish to return to Sarmatia. They have become filled with prejudice like most Romans.
A sharp slap on her arm jolted her back to the present. She gasped in pain and held her arm tenderly in her other hand as Caoimhe and Dierdre growled at them and exclaimed together in harmony, "Don't you dare hit Auntie Cina ever again!"
Tor, slightly unnerved by the uncanny resemblance the two girls before him had to his late mother, Agrippia, held Atilla tightly by the shoulders and asked in a bland voice, "Who are you two? Why is it that you both look Sarmatian?"
The twin on the right, who had her long blond hair pulled up into a tight bun surrounded by a small tiara and deep piercing blue eyes, stood straight and said, "I am Lady Caoimhe Beran of the House of Beran, first-born daughter of Lord Bors Chiefton Beran and Lady Vanora Deore Beran of the House Beran, Lord and Lady of Kameland City-Proper of Camelot!"
The twin on the left, with her blond hair tumbling down to her waist in wavy curls and sharp and equally piercing blue eyes, ended, "And I am Lady Dierdre Beran of the House of Beran, daughter of Lord Bors Chiefton Beran and Lady Vanora Deore Beran of the House Beran, younger twin sister of Lady Caoimhe of the House of Beran!"
Tor bit his lip and tried again with a dryly-bland voice because he didn't want to lose his temper. If he worded his questions right, he might be able to find out if these two were his late-brother's mongrel children. He found himself at a crossroads. His tribe believed that those of mixed blood were unworthy of the pride and strength of Sarmatia. They felt that those of other races were below them. While he agreed to a point, he had also loved his older brother more than he loved his people's beliefs. If these two were truly his late-brother's bastards, he didn't know what he'd do. I'll have to hold back Atilla and Artur. They just might kill them because they are mongrels.
"No, no, I mean, are you Sarmatian?"
Fulucina had, had enough. She knew where this line of questioning was heading, and she didn't want the twins to be exposed to such prejudices. They were innocent of such evils belonging to the ignorant people in the world, and she hoped that they would never have to be exposed to it.
"My Lords and Ladies, I must apologize and insist that you let us pass. We are late for the twins' training." Inserted Fulucina pointedly as she started to push the twins forward with the silent Lady Blythe's help.
Unfortunately, Bors and Vanora hadn't explained to their children why the secrets of their blood needed to be kept a secret. Dierdre was so worked up, that she said crossly, "Of course I'm Sarmatian! My father IS or rather WAS a Sarmatian Knight before he became one of the Lords of Camelot!"
Fulucina sighed and closed her eyes in despair. Things are about to get ugly. She thought sadly and a bit fearfully as the group before her started to shout loudly at one another.
Habren couldn't believe what she had just heard. So, at least one Knight still lived. Since he was a Lord here in Camelot, she was willing to bet her life that the other Lords of Camelot, save the King and the three that had been seated closest to her (Dean, Seamus, and Connor), were Sarmatians too. That means…that means that Lord Lancelot really IS my older brother, Lancelot!
As the shouting got louder, Arthur and Lancelot marched out and Arthur demanded loudly, "What is all the yelling about!"
They were surprised when a burly man, a few years older than themselves, marched up to them and punched Arthur in the face.
"ARTHUR!" roared Lancelot as he jumped in front of his king and friend and in a flash had his two demon blades out and crossed at the Sarmatian's neck. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cina and Lady Blythe, the Royal Professor of Academics, quickly pull his nieces behind them and away from the Sarmatians. He breathed easier as Arthur placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
The Sarmatian whose life he now commanded, glared at them both and demanded hotly, "Where is my brother, Bors? I know he was in there! Tell me! Which one was he!"
Arthur winced slightly at the pain flooding his body, but remained remarkably calm and as he opened his mouth, Bors himself answered gravely, "I am Bors. Tor, you shouldn't have touched Arthur. Now you'll be lucky to get out of this alive."
Lancelot watched the man, now named Tor, like a hawk as he slowly moved his head to look at the older Knight behind him.
Tor gulped and asked meanly, "Why didn't you come home! Because of you, grandmother died of a broken heart and father had to name ME heir! I never wanted to BE heir! Why didn't you come home!"
Bors stepped around him. Lancelot knew, just by the older Knights body language that he was to stand down. Lancelot thought harshly as he sheathed his swords, Bors must be really shaken up by this. We didn't expect them to hit Arthur or find out about our true identities so quickly. Bors, by his own admission to me just now, will cut his own little brother down to protect us all.
Bors opened his arms and sighed as his daughters rushed into his arms. They were his baby girls-his first-born daughters. Even though he loved all his children-all fourteen of them-these two, his Beauty and Young Lady, were extra special in his heart.
When they were safely behind him and close to Lancelot and Arthur, he answered truthfully and with an open and honest face, "I didn't return to Sarmatian because I thought that all of the people that I had once known were cold and buried a long time ago. Fifteen years is an awful long time to believe that all the people of my past were still alive and well. It was just easier to think of you all as dead and remember you as you were. Also, I fell in love."
At his words Lancelot and Arthur had to grimace-Lancelot most of all. This was not going to get any better, anytime soon.
Hoping to debunk the fight that was just seconds from starting, Lancelot said clearly and with a great deal of authority, "Why don't we return to the Great Hall and discuss this civilly? That way Lady Fulucina and Lady Blythe can escort the Twins to their commons to wait for us."
Atilla, the Head Tribal Leader of the Horse Tribe, and Artur, a childhood rival of Bors', who had joined Tor in front of Bors, spit on the ground, and Artur stated in a voice full of hate, disgust, and revile that matched the ugliness of his very presence, "These…these…these animals should be left out to die! They stink up the air we breath and make my stomach turn at just the thought of them. Remove these beasts at once!"
Bors growled and said heatedly as his daughters recoiled into his body for safety, "They are NOT beasts! They are beautiful generous young ladies! If you say another word Artur, so help me God…"
"GOD! You believe in the accursed Roman God! How low have you fallen brother?" demanded Tor as he marched right up to his elder brother totally ignoring the two girls shivering in fear in their father's embrace.
After all Tor thought in repulsion they are nothing but half-breed mongrels. Not even worth the effort to move. They are nothing but a waist of good Sarmatian blood. His face twisted into a horrible sneer as he ended, "I bet they aren't even strong enough to fight like our women, Bors! You remember, our strong, independent, fiery women who fight by our side in battle? These…these…muddy impure bastards are NOT recognized by the Tribe!"
Lancelot growled and started to pull his swords out once more, when they heard a loud voice. He smirked. He knew this voice all too well. It had cut and bruised his flesh and deafened his ears many times over the course of twenty years, and he had no doubt that it would continue to do so until one of them was cold and dead. He snorted and ended wryly to himself, and maybe even into the afterlife. I doubt that Vanny will let me rest in peace with her going to my grave and yelling at me all the time when things go wrong. Just like she does now.
"My children, MR. TOR," started the red-hared, blue-eyed Lady of Kameland City. They were shocked that she had purposely dismissed his royal title in visibly aggravated rudeness.
As she stomped right up to the younger man she, placed her finger into his chest, and pushed threateningly, "are NOT just animals to be ignored because they aren't what you think of as 'pure blooded!' They are perfect angels just the way they are! And if YOUR bloody ignorant, prejudicial tribe cannot see their value, no wonder the Sarmatian people are dying out! In fact, I'll pray to the Goddess and the Christian Lord All-Mighty that he totally wipes you all OUT!"
With that she spun around, quite the feat with the amount of space available, thought the Knights, and said more gently, "Come my darlings. Lets leave the men to deal with these ruffian, uncivilized, and uncouth, travelers."
Lancelot had to bite the inside of his mouth to prevent himself from laughing. He noticed Arthur and the others doing the same. Privately he wondered when they had arrived, but put it out of his mind, when Bors stepped forward threatening and said dangerously, "If I EVER catch you or anyone else saying those evil words again to ANY of the children, I will kill you myself, brother or no. Do you understand me Tor?"
Before Tor answered, Habren stepped forward and said calmly as she put forth a serene aura, "Enough, Tor will apologize to the children in the morning. I promise you this, Lord Bors. As the Princess of the Lion Tribe, on my honor, I promise you this."
She saw the surprised look on the older man, smiled softly, and said more warmly, "I do not think like the others, and since I have a higher authority over him, he WILL apologize. Every child is a wonderful gift from the Gods-no matter what blood runs through their veins."
She smiled in relief when the large Knight nodded and backed away revealing the one man she desperately wanted to talk to-Lancelot.
Lancelot eyed his sister and sighed. With his shoulders sagging slightly, he said, "Hello, Runt. It has been a long time."
He watched his sister's eyes light up at his old childhood name for her and then darken slightly. She marched right up to him and slapped him hard across the face.
He didn't react at all. Truthfully, he had expected the slap-she learned from their mother, Queen Ama, very well.
"Why didn't you return home!" she demanded once she got close. Before he could answer, she was in his arms crying tears of joy.
Despite himself, he closed his eyes and hugged her tight. The last time he had seen her, she had only been five years old. Now she was a beautiful woman of twenty-five summers. If he had any regrets about not returning to Sarmatia, it was only that he had missed her entire life there and felt like an outsider to his own flesh and blood.
When they pulled apart, he replied, "I stayed because I couldn't leave Arthur and Emogen. I just couldn't see how I could live my life without them in it. So, I decided to stay. I was going to go and visit for a short time but…"
He watched Habren's eyebrow go up, saw that Tarkan and two more men-vaguely familiar to him-reach her side, as she prodded, "But…"
He was relieved to feel Arthur behind him, and he nearly collapsed when his wife, Emogen, placed a supporting hand on his forearm, as he said, "The twins and Cadman prevented me from traveling very far from home."
"Twins? Cadman? Who are they?" asked Tarkan with a light, friendly voice.
Lancelot smiled ruefully at his younger brother as Emogen answered for him gently, "Lord Tarkan, Lady Habren, they are your nieces and your nephew by blood."