The Flower of King and Knights

Old Scars

Ulrich was about to respond when he heard a loud breaking of tree branches behind them. He smacked the back of Gwynevere’s horse, the beast bolting forward as the men turned to face the foe. Several men with a heraldry of a black bird and white tree emerged and readied their weapons.

“In the name of King Ector of Britannia, lower your arms!” cried Sir Kay.

“Not one your life!” replied one man.

“Then it’ll be yours,” answered Ulrich who followed his master into the fight. Gwynevere wanted to help, but knew she’d be in the way and bolted away from the fight. She rushed down the road until another group of men, ten by her count, stood between her and Camelot.

One man spoke. “Now my lady. We feel it would be best for you to come with us.”

“Why would I consort myself with the likes of Cunningham? Last I heard he was still the lap dog of the queen of Dore.”

“You will pay for those words,” said the man as one of his companions was struck by a lance. The men turned to find a Black Knight striking down another man.

“Jesus Christ! It’s him! It’s him! Run!” Some men escaped while five more men futilely tried to fight the knight. Lady Gwynevere watched as the knight struck down foe after foe. The Black Knight approached the lady.

“Jenny, are you all right?”

“I’m fine, but Kay and his squire. They were still fighting those men.”

“Go to the break in the road and wait for me there. I’ll get those two.”

Lady Gwynevere began down the road, but stopped to follow the Black Knight as he joined Sir Kay and Ulrich in battle. Sir Kay and Ulrich were holding their own against an enemy five times their strength. The knight had struck another foe dead as he heard his squire being hit from behind. Ulrich tried to raise himself up again, but the fight had taken much of his energy.

He turned to see the boy fall unto the ground as the cowardly foe raised his sword for the killing blow. “Ulrich!” he cried out in despair. The foe was about to swing down, he did not notice the sun reaching it highest point, it rays now touching the boy. Without warning Ulrich grabbed his sword and with renewed strength struck the foe at the knee, then plunging the blade into the man’s skull.

The enemy pressed their attack on Ulrich, but they had worn their strength and the squire struck each down with ease. Sir Kay ran to Ulrich, he was stunned at the boy’s speedy recovery. It reminded him of another knight he once knew, but the squire’s health was now his first concern. “Ulrich! Do you need aid?”

“I’m sore, but I’ll be fine until we make it Camelot. Unless you need some food made.”

“Forget the food. You’re my concern now. We may stop by a hermit to see if they provide some succor.”

“Seriously, my lord, I’m fine. We need to get the lady back to the castle first.”

Sir Kay grumbled something unintelligible as he noticed the Black Knight standing there. “What, you want to start a fight.”

Ulrich beseeched caution. “I don’t think we’re in a position to fight a knight of his stature.”

“I don’t care. I’ve been wanting this for centuries.” Sir Kay unsheathed his sword as Lady Gwynevere arrived. She ordered him to stop.

“Go to hell!” roared the knight.

The Black Knight moved to Sir Kay who pointed the sword at him. “Come on you bastard! You think I don’t know who you are, Lancelot du Lac, son of Ban. At least your father lived with some honor. You’re just an arrogant bastard who slew his own friends, and that was on top of sleeping with the whore!”

The Black Knight lost his patience, removed his helm and demanded, as Gwynevere turned away in shame, “You will take back what you said.”

“Or what? You’ll kill me? Ector may favor you both, but most of the old knights still want your head on a pike, and anything to me will just send them all after you. And even the one who fought for you, Lancelot, hate the wretch for what she did. You two broke his heart. More than anyone else, even Mordred. He trusted you both, he loved you both, and that was how you repaid him? At least Mordred was open about his hate for the king. But you two…you two make me sick. If it wasn’t for the fact the king wants you both alive, I’d kill you two myself. God damn you both. Come on Ulrich, let’s get back to the castle, maybe the feast will do me some good.”

The knight began to ride off as Ulrich turned to Lancelot and Gwynevere. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words simply didn’t come out. Gwynenvere whispered something to Lancelot before she began to follow Sir Kay. Ulrich turned back once more to Lancelot, who sat upon his steed as if badly beaten in combat. Ulrich’s heart was moved as he rejoined his master and lady on their way to Camelot.