Knight of the Lance

R6 Gerraint: The Lady of the Lake, part 3 of 3

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

The horse looked bigger than any horse they had ever seen, its nostrils flared, and its breath came in great puffs like mist in the dawn of early spring.  The horse looked covered in a blanket that sported great crosses embroidered in the fabric.  The rider appeared covered head to toe in plate armor so that no part of his flesh could be seen.  He sat on a saddle with a high front and back, and stirrups for his armored feet. And he sported the biggest, longest lance they could imagine, with a simple flag tied to the lance that showed a figure eight on its side, the symbol for infinity.

“About eight hundred years ahead of yourself, wouldn’t you say?”  Gerraint was the first to speak.  The Knight lowered his lance and touched the ground in Gerraint’s direction.

“Who is this magnificent looking warrior?” Lancelot seemed enthralled.

“One of the knights of the lance from Avalon, the same place Excalibur came from,” Gerraint answered.

“Good sir knight,” Arthur started but Gerraint interrupted.

“No.  They don’t talk.  A vow of silence.”  He added that for Lancelot and took a step forward.  “And the answer is no.  No way. Tell Yin Mo no way.”

“No way what?” Lancelot asked.

“Is he volunteering to help?” Arthur, who had been around Gerraint for some time and knew better how to read his shorthand speech, guessed.”

“Yes,” Gerraint answered roughly.  “And a thousand more just like him if I let him.”

“But that would be perfect.”

“No.  It was bad enough endangering the kobold, brownies and fee under Lord Birch, but they were just scouts and kept their bows in the background.  They didn’t attack the enemy directly.”

“But.”

“No.”  Gerraint hesitated.  “Tell Yin Mo I will think about it.  Now please, if you don’t mind.”  He waved off the Knight who raised his lance, turned his horse, and in a few paces disappeared into the trees and the mist.  Even the sound of the horse crunching through the leaves vanished.

###

When Percival and his crew returned in the afternoon, there were six riders instead of five.  Bohort and Lionel went straight to Lancelot.  They had a lot to catch up on.  Gawain and Uwaine still talked about something.  Gerraint did not pry.  The sixth horse took his attention.  It was Meryddin, but he looked old and drained.  Gerraint greeted him normally, and he returned the greeting, but Meryddin made no indication that he thought Gerraint might be anything other than the fourteen-year-old boy he first met outside of Londugnum.  Arthur would barely talk to the man, and when he did it came out in cold, short words.

Percival, not really knowing why Arthur would not be overjoyed to see the old man, sought to reassure Meryddin.  “Be patient,” he said.  “Arthur will come around.”

Meryddin sighed and said he had an appointment. He took the big staff he sometimes carried and stepped into the woods of the lake.

“I wonder how the Lady of the Lake will find him,” Arthur whispered.

“Maybe she will keep him out of our hair for a while,” Gerraint whispered back and said no more about it.

Two days later, the horsemen of Claudus and his advance troops arrived.  It took all that day and all the next for the rest of the legions to catch up.  They immediately took up a defensive position across the open fields, dug trenches and built fortifications around their camp and auxiliaries, but left the field free so the legions could form up and move freely in phalanx formation.  Looking at the way they camped, it became clear they would form up in a kind of upside-down “V” shape, one legion to either side, like the open jaws of a great lion, one man called it.

“More like the paws of a great bear,” Hoel said, when they went into conference.  “The weak point is at the top of the formation where the majority of their troops angle away from each other.  That is the temptation, to attack the center only to have the paws of the great bear close and crush us.”  Hoel had two old men with him, Lord Feswich and Lord Grummon.  Both were in their late forties, Hoel early fifties, and they spoke like they were old and wise and well-seasoned warriors.  Arthur, by contrast, had not yet turned thirty. Gerraint, a year younger, and Percival three years younger at just twenty-five.

“This time, when we hit the enemy from the side and rear we will only drive them to cut deeper into our own men,” Lord Grummon added.

“Excuse me,” Gerraint said.  “But as I understand it, last time you abandoned the plan and went chasing after pockets of Roman Cavalry.”

“That was important,” Lord Grummon defended himself. “We had to make sure the Romans did not regroup,” he said, but then fell silent.

“Maybe we could have the men attack only one legion head on,” Feswich tried thinking.

“And leave the other legion at our backs?” Hoel rejected that idea.

“Well, at least this time we have the advantage in horses,” Feswich said with a nod to Arthur.  “We should be able to deal with the Roman cavalry well enough.”

“That is not what the horsemen must do,” Arthur finally spoke.  “And the foot soldiers need to do something different as well.”

“What?” Feswich shook his head.  “Footmen fight footmen and horse men fight horse men. You are young, but I tell you that is the way it is done.  The stronger arm gains the victory.”

Arthur ignored him and looked at Hoel who looked willing to listen.  “Chieftain, you invited me to your company to take advantage of my experience.  You know we have fought Saxons, Angles, Picts, Scots and the Irish, and we have never lost a battle.  That is because we have not followed the old way of doing things. Listen, and I will tell you how we must fight this battle.”  Arthur paused.  Hoel nodded and kept his men quiet.  Arthur returned the nod and turned to Gerraint.  They had discussed it, but Gerraint could best explain it.  Besides, it would be his knights of the lance out front, and Arthur could step in if needed to negotiate any objections.

************************

MONDAY

Claudus:  Arthur and Gerraint order the battle formation.  The Knights of the Lance are ready.  Claudus and his revived Romans await the attack.  The fighting will be fierce.

Until then, Happy Reading

*

R5 Greta: Usgard Above Midgard, part 2 of 3

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Berry became enchanted by the softest lawn, the brightest stars and most glorious moon she ever knew.  The trauma of the last few minutes went completely from her mind.  Greta turned to the knight who was in truth a knight, like something out of the latter Middle Ages, in full plate armor so that no flesh or anything else showed.  She knew immediately that the knights of the lance never spoke, so she voiced her thought. “Thank you.”  And then she realized that she knew a lot of things that Greta never knew.

Greta looked up toward the castle on the hill.  It was her tradition to enter the castle across the lawn and through the main gate to give the little ones inside time to prepare.  “Huh!”  She said to herself, but it felt like a comfortable word, not a curious one.  She felt more herself than she ever felt before, and she decided that in Usgard, she became more the Kairos, her true self that lived again and again, than any individual, given life, even though she remained the Traveler Greta more than any other Traveler.  “Huh!”  She said again, and she called for Branworth.

Branworth appeared nearby as she began to walk toward the castle, Berry in her train, and escorted by the remounted knight.

“Lady Kairos.” Branworth bowed.  “The knights of the lance have made wonderful progress in guarding the borders, but as you see, even they have not been entirely successful.”

“I would not call the front lawn before the Castle successful at all,” Greta said.

“No, my lady. You are right,” Branworth admitted. “But the knights are not nearly as numerous as the ways in and out of the land and the isles.  Since the cracks developed in the days of young Lydia’s difficulties, at the time of dissolution of the gods, even their sleepless vigil is not enough to guard all ways at all times.”

“So I see,” she said.  And she did see.  She did not condemn the effort being made.  Rather, Greta sounded grateful, and felt rather inadequate to guard even her small charge; to give the little ones a safe haven from the world.  “We will work on it, Master Branworth,” she said. “We will figure something out.”

Greta stepped up to the castle gate and felt overawed by the enormous size and complexity of the structure, even if she knew it as a small thing compared to the Great Hall of Valhallah, the Hall of Odin, or the home of her mother, the goddess Vrya. That is to say, Nameless’ mother.

“Lady Kairos.” Thimbelin arrived and she curtsied slightly.  Greta greeted her friend with a hug and a yawn.  She passed pleasantries with the Queen of the Fairies before she excused herself for the night.  She apologized to the fire sprites, Madwick and Burns, and said their concerns would have to wait until morning.  Then she led Berry to her own rooms where the mistress elves had already made up two scrumptious beds.  They had fairy cloth laid out, and Greta slipped into hers, grew it with a thought to a full-length nightgown and colored it pink before changing it to blue.

Berry spent a great deal of time in front of the full-length mirror, stretching and shaping her own clothes.  She changed the colors and tried dozens of patterns before she ended up very much where she began.  “It’s just no good,” she complained.  “I don’t have any shape.  No matter what I do, I still look like a stick.”

“You’ll have shape soon enough.”  Greta laughed as she curled up in bed, while Berry curled up on the window sill. “Don’t stay up,” she said. “Tomorrow will be a busy day.”

“But I want to have as much of the land of wonder as I can before we go home.”  Berry said.

“Don’t worry.” Greta yawned once again.  “There is time enough.  There is time.”  And she fell fast asleep.

Time under the second heavens, like everything else, is a relative matter.  They stayed two days and three nights in Usgard and Greta insisted that when they went home it would be the very next morning of the night they left, as she more or less promised Darius.  From the first morning, however, Greta felt rested and refreshed, like she came home at last.  She imagined no other word for it.

At some point in the night, Berry curled her small self up on the pillow next to Greta’s pillow and completely ignored the bed which had been made up just for her. Presently, she was lying on her face with her knees pulled up and her little butt sticking straight up.  Greta could not resist taking her finger and knocking her over.  Berry sat up. Her wings fluttered while she rubbed her eyes.

“I’m not awake yet,” she protested.  “Do I have to get up?”

“Yes, sweet,” Greta said.  “It’s time for school.”

“School?” Berry’s eyes got big for a second before she snuggled down deep into the pillow.  “I can’t go to school today,” she said.  “I feel sicky.”  She pretended to sleep some more, while Greta got up and looked in the mirror.  She needed that bath and the time to wash and dry her hair; but then she did not want to keep Mrs. Kettleblack and all of the others waiting, especially on the first morning.  The sun had already gotten up and that seemed late enough.

Greta went to the mirror and shaped her fairy cloth into a plain brown dress such as she might have worn at home.  Then she decided that she was only seventeen, so she shortened the dress to knee length, then shorter, and got it as short as pixie length, and almost as tight.

“Too muchy,” Berry said, and made a face.  Greta sighed. She made plain shorts and a simple T, with sandals for her feet.

“Ready for breakfast?”  She asked quickly before Berry made her wear something ultra-boring.

“Breakfast?” Berry fluttered up and hovered about two feet above the pillow.  “I thought we were going back.”

“Not just yet,” Greta said.  “I think we will stay a while.”

Berry zipped around the room in excitement and then followed Greta out the door.

R5 Greta: Usgard Above Midgard, part 1 of 3

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Greta went to the city that evening, escorted by Sergeant Gaius and an honor guard of Romans and Dacians.  They had a feast in the banquet hall of the Roman fort.  Fae stayed with her people at the outpost, but Hans went with his sister. He felt well recovered, being young, and since he went, naturally Berry went too.  Greta did not even have to insist.

Greta thought she ate less than Berry, and considering the size of Berry’s true stomach was smaller than a thimble, that said something.  Hans, on the other hand, got his old appetite back.  He ate with both hands, and Berry had a wonderful time feeding him.

The men argued about what to do.  In a way, it felt like being back in the village of the Bear Clan.  Greta’s headache did not feel improved by it at all.

Marcus looked up at her, concerned a little by her silence.  “Tell me, wise woman, what is your opinion on these matters?”

Greta just looked at him.  She suddenly felt very tired, and she yawned to prove it.

“Come now,” Marcus said.  “You came all this way and risked your life to cross the forest.  Surely you had a reason.  You must have something to contribute.”

“Sleep,” Greta said.  “There won’t be anything decided tonight that you won’t still be arguing about in the morning.  I intend to get a good night’s rest and take a fresh look at it all in the morning. Berry.”  She stood.

“Oh, please,” Berry said.  “One more potato.”

Hans pushed back from the table.  “No, I could not eat another bite,” he said, and Berry put down her potato, only a little disappointed.

“Hans, you need to get to bed, too,” Greta said.

Hans paused to look around the room, and then with an annoying tongue he said, “Yes, mother.” The men laughed.  Greta frowned, but Hans got up and followed without further protest.

There were rooms prepared for them in the fort.  Berry would be staying with Greta.  Hans would stay with Darius.  Berry had spent her own time in tears earlier in the afternoon, because four years was forever.  Perhaps because she had been worn so thin, when they reached their room, Berry curled up and went right to sleep.  Greta cleaned up, and then sat and thought and thought.  As tired as she felt, her mind would not let her rest.

It may have been as late as ten or eleven o’clock when she woke Berry.  Berry sat up, rubbed the sleepies from her eyes, and waited patiently for Greta to speak.

“Berry,” she asked.  “How do we get to Usgard?”

“My Lady knows the road to Avalon, certainly,” Berry said.  “I tried to find my way once, but all I did was get lost.”

Greta knew of Usgard, of course.  She knew all about it if she cared to think about it, but in some ways, it seemed like encyclopedic knowledge, lacking any real substance, and that being the case, it felt almost equally true to say she knew nothing about Avalon.  She knew she had to go there, but she felt reluctant to go alone, uncertain of what they would find once they arrived.  “Will you go with me?”  She asked.

“Yes.” Berry spoke with evident excitement. She grabbed Greta’s hand and said, “Let’s go.”

It would not be that easy, Greta thought.  Then again, maybe it would.  Greta and Berry stood and Greta simply raised her hand.  A doorway slowly formed at the back of the room by the window.  It took a moment to come into focus and solidify. Greta looked once at Berry before she reached out and opened the door.

Berry screamed. Greta screamed.  Two creatures attacked.  It took a few moments for them to cross the open lawn which appeared on the other side of the doorway.  They could see them clearly in the moonlight, and did not doubt their intentions. These were not like guard dogs. They were not Greta’s creatures. They did not belong there.  In retrospect, Greta should have closed the door, but at the time she stayed too busy screaming.  Another panic situation.  Even so, she saw the horseman in the distance, but feared he might be too far away to do anything.

The first creature leapt and Berry and Greta separated so it landed between them.  It turned immediately on Berry, but that became a mistake.  For the second time, Greta felt a power beyond reckoning surge through her.  She felt a bit like she had when, as Salacia, she stood in the eye of the hurricane.  She discharged.  The first creature collapsed and gave off the distinct smell of ozone and burnt fur.

The second creature hesitated.  It looked at Greta as if trying to remember something, or trying to figure something out. It took too long.  It had to turn because the horseman came upon it.  It growled an unearthly growl and leapt, but the horseman had a lance and knew his weapon well.  He caught the creature dead center, pushed through the door by his momentum and pinned the creature to the far wall, even as the bedroom door crashed open.  Hans ducked. Darius said something, but Greta could not hear.  He had a sword in his hand as did the dismounted horseman.  They made sure of both the creature on the floor and the one against the wall, then the knight went to one knee before his mistress. Greta looked away for most of the time. Berry, cradled in her arms, still screamed.  Then Greta moved suddenly, before she changed her mind.  She grabbed the knight by the arm and dragged Berry behind and through the door.

She turned to look at Darius.  “If you need me before morning, you can come fetch me, but only you.  No, Hans.  You must not come.”  She closed the door and left the facsimile of an actual door on the other side.