LANCELOT

by Bernard Lee DeLeo

  “Take my hand, and I will show you a time when all was not pain and death.”

  Hesitantly, Lancelot took her hand. His forgotten memories exploded through him, and he collapsed to the ground in a shuddering fit. Vivian closed her eyes in concentration, gripping Lancelot’s hand with both hers as she knelt at his side. Vivian blushed, remembering the teenaged Lancelot. Lancelot would now know that she had been the first woman to cry out in pleasure with him. It had been a wondrous time for her – a time during which Vivian had imparted the skills of a warrior, combined with a consummate lover’s tender passion, in Lancelot’s training.

  Vivian held Lancelot for nearly an hour. Finally, the knight’s breathing returned to normal, and he stopped shaking. Vivian helped Lancelot sit up against the tree, stroking her hand over his brow gently. A breeze dispelled the ground mist completely, revealing a sparkling panorama of stars in the clear sky. Opening his eyes, Lancelot met Vivian’s concerned look with new recognition.

  “You have been…much more to me than I ever dreamed,” Lancelot whispered, taking her hand and kissing her palm. “Why did you not show me all this before, my lady?”

  “The tragic triangle with Arthur and Guinevere may not have happened,” Vivian gasped as Lancelot kissed her neck. “Please…I-”

  “I have loved more than one woman.” Lancelot covered Vivian’s mouth with his own in an increasingly passionate kiss, his tongue gently meeting hers, tentatively at first.

  Vivian’s arms wound possessively around Lancelot’s neck. She groaned with need she had not felt for many years. Her body responded urgently. His caressing hands worked her robe aside, pushing it back and down from her bare shoulders. She was naked underneath. Vivian protested as Lancelot pushed her away easily, but she hurriedly helped, when she saw that he wanted only to remove his armor and clothing. Lancelot continued his attentive kisses over Vivian’s face, lips, and throat as he stripped slowly and deliberately.

  Free of their clothing, the two lovers remained kneeling, their hands stroking each other’s body with knowing familiarity. Lancelot grasped Vivian’s long black tresses. The shimmer of dark hair highlighted by the fire lay in stark contrast to her white skin. Breathing more heavily, Lancelot lay Vivian down upon her robe, where with tongue, lips, and teeth, he worked his way slowly down her body. Vivian cried out with each teasing touch and nibble, her body twisting in desire. Their trysts went on into the night, ending only as dawn’s grayish sky cast natural light to herald a new day. Vivian lay atop Lancelot, her otherworldly fire keeping the chill from their bodies.

  “I…I was supposed to tell you of your mission here, after restoring the memories lost for so long,” Vivian whispered at Lancelot’s ear. “You were always able to make me forget my duty, dear sir. Come, we will bathe in the lake and speak of what lies ahead.”

  “Will you heat our bathing spot as you did long ago, my lady?” Lancelot asked, stroking Vivian’s hair.

  “Of course,” Vivian agreed with a laugh. “I do not wish you to catch a cold, or your splendid tool to shrink in protest to the frigid water.”

  Lancelot stood up effortlessly, with Vivian squealing against him, he walked to the lake bank. Lifting her up away from him, Lancelot threw his now protesting lover into the water. She turned her flight into a perfect dive, surfacing like a true water nymph, and looking up at the smiling Lancelot.

  “You have grown, my love,” Vivian said, admiring the nearly six-and-a-half-foot-tall, heavily built knight with frank appreciation. “You are indeed a monster. This small section is all warmed up for you. Come in with me.”

  Lancelot stepped into the water, seeing the steam coming off the surface of a small area around Vivian. It was hot, and Lancelot sat down in the shallows, reclining with a grunt of satisfaction as Vivian floated over him. She rubbed her hands over his shoulders and chest, remembering with desire their past hours by the fire. He held her with passion he thought lost to him forever. Much later, Vivian slid off to Lancelot’s side, her head on his chest, panting noticeably.

  “You will remain on earth until you are given instructions, Lancelot,” Vivian told him, stroking his chest with her hand. “Travel and learn everything you can. I know not how long your wait will be. I have already reversed your years to the age of twenty-one. The scars you have will remain. It is not within my power to take them away. No force on earth, but for the supernatural, will be able to slay you. Even the most grievous wounds taken in battle will heal. A time will come when you will have to change identities constantly. Not aging will get you branded a demon in suspicious peoples’ minds, so living for very long in any one area may be unwise.”

  For the first time since waking, Lancelot realized that the many pains he had endured for years were gone. He put his hand over Vivian’s, unsure of how to react.

  “My pain is gone,” Lancelot said simply. “Did you come to me last night for-”

  Vivian leaned over Lancelot, covering his mouth. “I love you. Because of your iron resolve, everything is in place. Your legend will live on, as will King Arthur, the Knights of the Round Table, Camelot, and even Guinevere. The lasting influence will have an effect on everything from literature to the foundation of Western Civilization. When you returned Excalibur to me, my time on earth was done. Last night was the completion of my mission, and my reward. I will miss you most of all, my love.”

  “It would appear that I will never be able to know lasting love in this long life I have been given,” Lancelot replied, kissing Vivian’s forehead. “Thank you for last night.”

  “What will you do for now?” Vivian asked.

  “I will leave this place, and journey to Jerusalem. There is a knightly order there, the-”

  “Knights Templar,” Vivian finished for him, nodding in agreement with his choice. “You would be able to learn much in that area of the world, which will help later. A new world will spring up across the sea, my love. When first it becomes possible to journey there, do so. Your future mission will take place across the ocean. Lancelot, I can let you out of this endeavor, if you so wish.”

  “If it be God’s will, then I am blessed to carry it out,” Lancelot answered. “I only fear disappointing the Lord in the way I live. I confess to being far less than a saint in my dealings with women. Given the time I must wait here, anyone I love will age and die. In many ways, it will be a bleak existence, my lady.”

  “Yes, for a long time, it may even be a torture for you,” Vivian agreed quietly.

  “Will I be able to have a family, if I wish?”

  “Your youth and invulnerability comes at a price. You will not be able to father offspring,” Vivian told him, looking away.

  “It is just as well. I do not wish to outlive any more children,” Lancelot affirmed, thinking back to his loss of Galahad. Are you going to tell me before you go?”

  “What am I to tell you?”

  “You were Guinevere.”

  Vivian pretended confusion for a moment, but Lancelot’s smile made her blush.

  “It is difficult for me to believe an angel can blush,” Lancelot observed.

  “How-”

  “If you wished to keep it a secret, you should not have slept with me, or given me my memories back,” Lancelot stated.

  “I was brutal in raising you to be a warrior,” Vivian replied defensively.

  “Until you began sleeping with me,” Lancelot pointed out.

  “You were sixteen, and I…I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

  “Rather incestuous, I think,” Lancelot kidded her.

  “I am not your mother!” Vivian gasped indignantly, elbowing the now laughing Lancelot. “It was…oh, Lancelot…it was wonderful. Those two years before you had to leave me wiped away all thought of my curse. Until then, all I could think of was how to groom you into the being needed to release me from the earth. It took all my power to wipe away your memory of me. My coldness on the day I explained how you came to be by this lake fully grown, was needed to get me through it.
”

  “Was it an accident, my meeting Arthur and nearly killing him?”

  “It was that idiot, Merlin,” Vivian answered angrily. “All was in readiness for the meeting to take place. Instead, Merlin sent Arthur out as if he were on a quest. I barely arrived in time to save the young fool. To his credit, Arthur never forgot the lesson you taught him that day. Excalibur craves blood, but it cannot increase the prowess of the one wielding it.”

  “Did you have trouble seeing me?” Lancelot asked curiously, running his fingertips over Vivian’s cheek.

  “It was all I could do not to strip right in front of you like a common harlot,” Vivian groaned.

  “Which seemed to make you even more proficient at binding me into an affair when you inhabited Guinevere’s consciousness,” Lancelot mused, his fingers trailing down over Vivian’s shoulder. “It amazed me, at the time, how cold she could be toward me. I thought her…Vivian, it was you with her at the end. That glint in her eyes. It was-”

  “Oh, how I wanted to hear of Modred’s death,” Vivian said angrily, climbing onto Lancelot’s lap once again. “Your comrades were not meant to die. That snake betrayed us once again. If he had led them, you would have killed the bastard when they burst in on us. Oh…God…it was so intense with you that night, I could think of nothing else. Otherwise, I might have sensed the trap. It was all meant to be, just part of the greater tragedy of which I had no knowledge.”

  “This answers many questions about Guinevere’s actions at times,” Lancelot whispered, kissing Vivian with growing urgency.

  “The ice queen would have died without a peep for either you or Arthur,” Vivian told him. She shuddered as Lancelot’s lips moved over her neck.

  “Did you lay with Arthur too?”

  “No…the bitch wanted to be queen. Guinevere cared for Arthur as much as she could care for any man. I was not to inhabit her body other than in the pursuit of your love. She loved Arthur only, which made it impossible to steer her into an affair with you. I confess it was my obsessive desire for you driving her to betray Arthur. I regret not a single instant other than the pain Arthur endured. It was a horrid obligation and purpose to birth this legend.”

  Lancelot again covered Vivian’s mouth with his own, in a savage wanton kiss of passion, mating tongues as well as lips. Making mewling sounds against Lancelot’s mouth, Vivian clutched him in violent desirous abandon. Vivian could only bear a moment’s intensity before pulling away as if in a fit, holding him at arm’s length. Eyes closed and mouth working soundlessly, she gasped for air, trying to regain control of the temperature of the water. Lancelot leaned forward, enveloping her in his arms tightly.

  “I am yours,” Vivian sobbed against Lancelot’s neck, her body heaving against him. “I wish for nothing else than to remain here as your slave.”

  “You can warm water with a thought, enter and take over another’s conscious thoughts, and make fire with a gesture,” Lancelot remarked gently, stroking Vivian’s back. “You would be a very odd slave.”

  “And yet…you can overpower me with ease,” Vivian replied, shifting so as to brush her lips over his. “What can I do? I am beaten. You own me, you brute.”

  Lancelot laughed, as Vivian struggled in pretended outrage. He hugged her to him again.

  “Thank you for this wondrous parting, my love,” Lancelot whispered. “Will it be you who comes to instruct me, when it is my time to do God’s will?”

  “Oh, Lancelot…” Vivian cried, burying her head at his shoulder once again. Only after many moments did she speak, taking a deep breath, and again sliding to Lancelot’s side. “I will come when it is time. If it is within my power to petition for God’s permission, I will be the one.”

  “You will not spy on me when I am with other women, will you?” Lancelot lurched to the side as Vivian attacked him while emitting a low growl.

  Lancelot surged to his feet, lifting the struggling Vivian up with him. Her eyes widened, and her mouth hung open as Lancelot held her captive, and all thought of her prior anger dissipated. Vivian clung to him with all her might, knowing they had but a little time left together.

  Chapter Four: Friendly Goodbye

  “You are again Vivian, the Lady of the Lake,” Lancelot stated approvingly, as the hooded Vivian walked over to join him where he packed the last of his dried rations for the long journey ahead. “Have you handed off the devil sword?”

  “It is again beyond earthly hands,” Vivian answered, leaning against Lancelot. “It is time, my love. I must leave you. You remain celibate until we can again be together.”

  “If I could have done that,” Lancelot reasoned, taking her into his arms, “I would never have let you seduce me to begin with. You will forever be in my thoughts.”

  “That will have to do,” Vivian sighed. She lifted her head, and Lancelot kissed her.

  Lancelot tasted the salty sweetness of Vivian’s tears and then nothing. She was gone. After finishing his packing, he rode away from the lake. Feeling relieved in many ways, he considered the enormity of what lay ahead in temporal terms. An hour on his way, he heard the approaching clamor of an armored column. He quickly donned his helmet, and made ready with sword and shield. Lancelot relaxed a moment later, as he recognized Bedivere’s colors.

  Bedivere rode up at a gallop, followed by six men-at-arms on horseback.

  “Lancelot!” Bedivere exclaimed with some relief, although he peered for a moment longer than normal at Lancelot’s helmeted face. “Meleagaunce heard of your mission to return Excalibur to-”

  “I know, my friend,” Lancelot interrupted, sheathing his sword. “I met him on the way to complete the King’s directive. Meleagaunce is no more.”

  “You killed him and all his men?” Bedivere wondered aloud.

  “Just him,” Lancelot replied. “I allowed Meleagaunce to hold and fight with Excalibur, while his men stayed at a distance by prior agreement. He found the so-called Sword of Kings to be less than satisfactory.”

  Bedivere laughed in appreciation, as did his men. “Have you decided where you will journey next?”

  “I go alone to the Holy Land. I intend to join the Knights Templar. May I ask a favor of you in confidence?”

  “Of course,” Bedivere replied, riding alongside Lancelot so as to keep the conversation between the two knights.

  “I wish for you to let it be known that I died at Glastonbury, and you returned Excalibur to the Lady of the Lake,” Lancelot said. “There are too many memories here for me, and I’d rather leave the past behind. Can you do this for me, my friend?”

  “It will be as you say,” Bedivere agreed, clasping Lancelot’s outstretched arm. “I wish you well.”

  Lancelot nodded, saying, “And you, brother.”

  Watching Bedivere and his men ride off, Lancelot hoped that all thought of his whereabouts would fade quickly. Lancelot rode on to the coast, unaware that it would be centuries before he returned to England, and centuries more to complete his journey across the ocean to America.

  ***

  “Gunnery Sergeant Benwick reporting as ordered, sir!”

  The marine captain looked up from the folder he held. A frown betrayed his thoughts at seeing the marine standing stiffly at attention in front of him. At nearly six-and-a-half-feet tall, with sun-browned skin, military white-walled haircut, and a myriad of scars, the sergeant could have been any age from twenty to thirty-five. Captain Wolensky glanced back down at the folder, which showed the man’s age to be thirty-four years.

  “At ease, Sergeant.” Wolensky shook his head negatively, staring at the folder in his hands, while he heard Benwick snap to parade rest. “What’s this shit about leaving the Corps, Jim?”

  “No one leaves the Corps, in reality, sir,” Benwick replied tersely.

  Wolensky chuckled. “Don’t test me, Sergeant. You know what the hell I mean. One more hitch and you’ll have your twenty in. We need you, damn it! If you weren’t such a cement-head, I’d be saluting you now. You joined th
e Corps at seventeen in time for the first Gulf War, and followed it up to the present action in Afghanistan and Iraq with numerous combat engagements in between. Yet, here you are, a gunnery sergeant instead of at least a Major. You’ve turned down more commissions since being with me than I can count. Let’s see…yeah, here we go. You did two tours in Afghanistan and Iraq before doing the last couple with me, Jim. I doubt that you ever wear all the medals I have listed here. Why leave now, with only a few more years to a pension? Is it family problems?”

  “No, sir,” Benwick answered solemnly. “It’s just time for me to leave, sir.”

  “If you don’t want another tour, I’ll keep you in the country, teaching boots how not to die,” Wolensky urged. “Name your duty station, and I’ll get it for you. You saved my ass so many times since I…shit, Jim.”