Summary: Leon arrives at the citadel with his family as nostalgia and regret collide when Percival serves him hard truths about a boy's broken trust.
Chapter 14 Honor By Knight – Leon: A Tapestry of Sorrows Part II
The courtyard teemed with arriving dignitaries – an envoy from Mercia led into the castle, their horses quickly moved aside for the contingent from Nemeth. Lords and ladies from the Northern Plains, Andor, and Eofham processed behind Leon's party and representatives from Gedref, Daobeth, and the Western Isles mingled near the gates. Leon mused how his father craned eagerly for a glimpse of Nemeth's veiled princess as she dismounted. He too was surprised Mithian returned, given her gracious acceptance of defeat in the past – gaining land, not the husband or kingdom. Still, duty always overrode pride, as he well knew.
A stable hand came forward, drawing his attention and gesturing to take the reins of his horse with an outstretched hand. Passing them to him, he dismounted, taking Rosalinda with him. Leonora and Tillota were already off the wagon as he set his daughter on her feet, who promptly took the hand of her younger sister. His father and mother approached arm-in-arm as a young page greeted them.
"Hello, Gerald," Leon said with a smile. Gerald had been in the castle for a few years, had always been reliable in his duties. The boy's diligence and intuition reminded Leon of a budding young squire that he probably should have encouraged him to enlist – but too late. It wasn't his job anymore.
"Welcome back, Sir Leon," he replied with a respectful nod. "My condolences for your loss."
His lips twitched into a bittersweet grin. He'd received many sentiments since Mylla died – it never feeling any better when given though. His throat tightened once again; his heart bled out once more.
"Thank you." He cleared his throat, swallowed the lump. "Please inform the quartermaster that I've arrived with my daughters and parents. We – um – also have a few extra servants to board."
"Follow me, my lord. Chambers are prepared for you and your family. I'll see that the rest of your staff is accommodated."
They started up the steps of the main entrance, Leon scooping up Rosalinda, his father gathering Leonora in his arms, straining a bit on the steep incline, he noticed.
"Leon!" Percival rushed down the steps, his arms as wide as his smile. They clasped forearms and then embraced. Percival relieved his father of Leonora and hugged her in his mighty arms. Kissing each twin on the forehead, and then Tillota on the cheek, the girls squealed as he paid them attention. Tillota's cheeks blushed a bright red.
"Sir John, Lady Isabella," Percival acknowledged with a tilt of his head. "Camelot welcomes you once again."
"It's nice to see you well, Sir Percival," his father said. "Lady Isabella has missed you at the supper table these last few months. Some of our stores are rotting because of your absence."
Percival laughed and kissed his mother's hand. "I shall make it my duty to pay you more visits and consume your stores, my lady."
Escorting them in and bypassing the check station, Leon gazed out at a Camelot transformed – majestic banners blazing every column, guests glittering in sumptuous hues. The heady scent of roasted meats enveloped him with memories of Cook's legendary victuals he'd savored after duties long done.
Many feasts awaited over the next few days – hospitality unmatched in many decades. But down these corridors, nostalgia endured in worn stones – each nick, each stain whispering times when determined men fought to liberate these hallowed halls.
As he always did since, Leon glanced at one gouge marking the wall as they passed, remembering when he fought an enchanted skeleton emerged from the crypt and whose axe left that crude signature there instead of his head. How many attacks had he fended off within these walls, blessed to call such valiant brothers his comrades in arms? This castle harbored as many trials overcome as the feasts that graced her halls.
Percival spoke of his concerns securing the city amidst the influx of visitors, recapturing his attention. "I've fifty guards posted in the lower and middle towns, another along the main thoroughfares," he sighed. "Drafted knights from Clarwick to patrol the upper town, though some grumble – they would prefer to share in the celebrations. It's a logistical nightmare, Leon."
Leon noted the tension in his friend's voice then. Command weighed heavy on Percival's shoulders, clearly. He wondered if elevating him to marshal was wise, given the daily struggle to maintain order. Still, all looked well and so did he despite the challenges he faced.
They passed the great hall where Leon glimpsed final coronation preparations underway. He'd known Gwen since she was a scrawny, curious girl. And Arthur had been the stubborn, though good-hearted prince who became like a brother. Never had he imagined those children would be his beloved monarchs one day ruling together from that room. They reached the southeast turret and Percival informed his audience with them in four hours.
Leon nodded, smiling. "It will be good to see them."
"Did you see the dragon, Percy?" Leonora asked, tinkering with the leather straps on his hard armor vest. Percival paused at the turret entrance, exchanged a curious look with him.
Leon shrugged, chortled with a widening smile. "Gwen enclosed a personal note with the invitation. I shared the contents with them." Percival's brow rose higher and Leon waved off his questioning glare. "Only kind words for old friends, nothing alarming."
"Father says it flew right into the courtyard," Rosalinda said. "Were you frightened?"
"Did it have beautiful wings?" added Leonora. "What color was it?"
"Well," Percival answered, "yes, I'll admit I was a bit frightened when the dragon first swooped into the courtyard. But as a knight, it's my duty to rise above my fears to keep people safe. And you should have seen its wings! They stretched as wide as the entire courtyard, shining like hammered gold in the sunlight."
They entered the turret, Leon pressing to the wall for passersby. As they climbed, Percival regaled the bright-eyed girls with a gentled version of his encounter with the great dragon, eliciting giggles and gasps.
Upon reaching the third floor and the long gallery to the northwest turret, bold standards lined stone walls. Sunlight flooded through arched windows bathing all in the crimson and gold of Camelot's storied grandeur. Leon glanced at knights ushering visitors into the lesser hall – Arthur and Gwen beyond the doors.
He couldn't count the number of times he'd held sentry duty there – standing for hours, watching, protecting, escorting any for an audience with King Uther. Now, a new generation of monarchs dear to him received the guests and protected by others knights. A bittersweet longing swelled, torn between duty to kingdom and promise to family – promise to a little boy. His face fell. His smile faded.
Entering the tower, the airy ascent wound higher. With each step, worry over Herschel's fate pressed on Leon. He cleared his throat. "Herschel? Do you know what became of him?" he asked softly, words heavy as the climb steepened. When they exited the turret, Percival set Leonora on her feet and met his eyes, his expression solemn.
Leon cinched his jaw, his stomach sinking as he set Rosalinda down. He gripped Percival's arm. "What has happened?" he asked tightly, cold fear creeping through him.
"He's fine, Leon." Percival's voice was flat and even, though disappointment registered in his eyes.
Leon let out a shaky breath, but felt little relief. Another question on his lips, Percival cut him off.
"Let's talk in private – in your chambers. We're almost there." Turning away, Leonora grasped one of Percival's fingers as he led them half-way down the corridor with her beside him.
At their quarters, Percival ushered them into a spacious solar, lavishly decorated in Camelot's colors. Sunlight streamed through arched windows while candles flickered in ornate sconces along the stone walls. An adjoining bedchamber could be glimpsed through an open door, along with two other rooms intended for his family. These chambers were reserved for royalty – a sign of the friendship and honor granted them.
But Leon barely registered the fine surroundings, his thoughts consumed by shame and failure. He watched expressionlessly as Tillota ushered the chattering girls into one of the adjoining rooms and the table being prepared with food and beverages by servants that had followed them in. When his parents retreated to the bedchamber, Leon pulled Percival aside, unable to mask the desperation in his voice.
"His family...?" Leon asked at last. "Are they—"
Percival's eyes hardened slightly – accusatory – before he shook his head. "No surviving relatives."
Leon wet his lips, closed his eyes. A child all alone – should never have forgotten him.
"I've been watching after him," Percival added, a hint of agitation beneath his calm tone. "Found him work in the kennels."
"Good. That's...good," Leon murmured, even as guilt consumed him. He had broken his vow – failed Herschel when he needed him most.
He listened numbly as Percival described the orphanage, and despite the care Gwen ensured they had, the boy still found no comfort there – that he slept in the kennels with the hounds sometimes. Leon closed his eyes, shame and self-loathing threatening to overwhelm him.
"Has he — asked of me?"
Percival met his gaze. "He lost his family, Leon. His home. And then he lost you – only once did he speak of you."
Leon flinched, scrubbing a hand down his face. He knew devout Percival valued oaths made before God almost as much as family itself – glimpsed the flinty judgement in his friend's eyes that he once leveraged at Elyan when Gwen was exiled. Abandoning one's promise cut against Percival's core.
"I truly regret forgetting the boy," he said, guilt consuming him.
"No one blames you," Percival said now with empathy yet disappointment in his eyes. "Losing the woman you love would crush any man. But Herschel is only ten. He trusted you."
The words pierced Leon's heart. He swallowed, said nothing, knowing he deserved Percival's gentle reproach.
"All right. I'll—um, find him," he finally rasped, hands on hips.
"I think he needs that." Percival nodded. "I'm sure he's in the kennels taking care of Gilboa's new litter of pups." The look on his face offered a glimmer of hope that perhaps he could still regain the boy's trust.
Percival then leaned in a little closer. "If you don't mind, Leon" he whispered, "the men often complain to me about the duty rosters and rotations."
Leon chuckled. "They always do. Rotation schedules are one of the most difficult given the number of men in the army, those spread across the kingdom."
"Many have finished their two-year rotation and long to return to their homes and families. Others are returning to be added back into rotation. There's also the sick and injured. Honestly, Leon, it's nightmarish too."
Leon smiled knowingly. "I can explain my methods before I depart – add some order amongst chaos, and a few other tactics I know." He thrust out his hand as Percival shook it, smiling broadly. "And tell me about your betrothed; congratulations, my friend."
Percival pulled back, surprise flashing across his face again. Leon shrugged. "Gwen. How else will I stay informed about you ladies?"