Lancelot and the Wolf

by Sarah Luddington

  The trouble started even before we were out of earshot from the keep’s walls. I watched Arthur pull Willow up next to Mercury and engage Else in a quiet conversation. His hand snaked over to Else’s lower back and buried itself under her cloak. Arthur seemed to be rubbing the small of her back. I watched the tension in her shoulders ramp skyward. I pushed Ash forward only to have Geraint hold me back.

  “Not here, Lancelot, she can handle him and Arthur isn’t going to hurt her,” he spoke quietly, while watching our King.

  “What the hell is he playing at?” I snarled. Two things made me angry, one, he had his hands on my woman; two, he’d been trying to seduce me an hour previously. Did he say all that just to confuse me so he could move in on Else? And why would he want her? To hurt me, for revenge because he believed we were married.

  “Just wait until we are free of this damned city and we’ll tackle him together,” Geraint said.

  So, I sat on Ash and seethed. We walked through the city, watching it rise to face another day of trading. The mighty commercial centre of our world. The noise levels gradually increased. The air smelt of bread and autumn frost, the tanners, soap makers, blacksmiths and candle makers were all up and about. Flower sellers roved through the streets looking for their favourite sites and others wove home muttering curses about daylight ending their night’s festivities. Arthur wore a hood over his blonde hair, to hide his appearance making certain we were not mobbed leaving the city. Finally, the city dwindled and we passed through a gate, which officially indicated the edge but always seemed a little arbitrary to me.

  We pushed the horses to an easy canter and began to ride into the morning while dawn finally broke the night’s hold. The day came to us cold and fresh, as though the weather wanted to begin again just as we did, wiping the slate clean. Else fell back and rode next to me, we were silent but she relaxed when I smiled at her.

  Riding south for an hour, we passed through the hills surrounding Camelot and into the woods. Geraint pulled up his big roan, Pepper, “Right, time for breakfast.”

  “We don’t need to stop until lunch,” Arthur said, holding Willow on a tight rein to prevent him dancing with excitement. I wondered when the great stallion last left Camelot. Ash looked odd in the dawn light, they tried to wash the colour out of his coat but he’d obviously made it almost impossible for them because he now had faded black patches, pitch black patches and the occasional white splodge.

  “Well, I need to stop and Lancelot needs to stop. We can’t push him today or he’ll become sick. He’s been put under too much pressure,” Geraint snapped. I’d never seen him angry with Arthur. Geraint didn’t become angry.

  Arthur looked at me, “Do you need to stop?”

  “I think we need to talk. I need to know how we are going to find Merlin,” I said.

  “There’s dry wood,” Else dismounted and started to gather wood for a small fire. “I’ll have something warm brewing in moments.”

  I dismounted without another word and Arthur harrumphed but finally followed suit. I watched him carefully. He burrowed into a pack on the horse Geraint led. He came out with a small flask. I glanced at Geraint, he nodded and we both approached Arthur. Else rose and circled around the other way.

  Why so sneaky? Arthur is a dangerous man to cross. He’s a damned fine warrior and I’d seen no hint of the stable, sensible man I loved inside this shell. I had no idea how bad he’d been or for how long. For Geraint to be this angry it must have been months, therefore we were not taking any chances.

  Geraint and I grabbed Arthur in the same moment. Geraint took hold of his left arm and shoulder, I his right. Else appeared and took the flask from Arthur’s surprised hands.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he cried out.

  “Stopping you from killing yourself or us,” Geraint said. Arthur tried to pull himself free.

  “Let go you damned fools.”

  “No, Arthur,” I said. “We are going to dry you out. Else,” I said to her as Arthur really began to fight and curse, “find all the drink in every pack and start pouring it away.”

  Arthur finally realised we were serious when Else emptied the flask in her hand onto the ground in front of him. Our King became inarticulate with anger. He fought so hard I started to lose control. Geraint and I lifted him off his feet and lowered him backward onto the ground. We neatly rolled him and Geraint tied his hands with a piece of rope he’d been holding in his padded gambeson. Arthur cursed and thrashed. I kept my knee on his back until Geraint finished. Neither of us spoke. As soon as we were done, we neatly stepped back out of reach of Arthur’s legs and left him on the ground. He flipped onto his back, his face puce with rage.

  “I’ll have your fucking heads for this,” he finally said. The first actual sentence for a while.

  Geraint and I stared at him. The irony of the situation didn’t escape me, a few weeks before it could have been me on the floor ready to kill for a drink. Else lived with me while I found my own way out of my depression. We were going to force Arthur out of his. Geraint just turned and walked away to help Else raid the packs. He seemed unable to deal with Arthur on any level. I wondered what had happened to my friends while I’d been away.

  I crouched down. Arthur struggled upright, “You fucking prick. You vowed to follow me anywhere or was that another lie?” he spat toward me.

  “I will follow you anywhere, Arthur, but only if you are sober,” I told him.

  Arthur tried to wriggle his hands free, “My circulation is being cut off.”

  “Tough,” I said. “I’m not letting you go until you calm down. We have no intention of fighting you.” I considered my options about how to approach Arthur’s problems. I decided head on would be a good idea, “Why are you drinking?”

  Arthur stilled, his head turned toward me, he looked hunted, “Fine I’ll fucking sober up, but you don’t have the right to question me.”

  “I think I do. You’ve beaten me, threatened me and,” I glanced at the others checking they were out of earshot, “and you have told me you love me. What is wrong with you, Arthur?”

  He scowled. He looked about five years old, I couldn’t help but smile. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and take away the pain this would cause, but I couldn’t.

  “Fuck off,” he snapped and he turned his back on me and the others. I sighed, rose and helped to go through the packs. We didn’t speak, none of us were looking forward to the next few days and this was a grim task. We found a great many wineskins, flasks of hard liquor and even some brew in his water flasks. The ground stank by the time we finished.

  When we completed our task and reloaded the horses, we looked at Arthur. He’d managed to gain his feet and stood with a mutinous face.

  “What do we do with him?” Else asked.

  “I think if we release him, he’ll just go back to Camelot and send out the army after us,” Geraint said.

  “Then we tie him to the horse,” I said.

  The others looked at me, Arthur snarled, “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Arthur, I would dare because it is my duty to care for you and drying you out is not going to be easy.” I turned to Geraint, “How long has he been drinking?”

  “It’s been bad for the last few years, but it’s been out of control since you were arrested.”

  I nodded, “Then we tie him so he is comfortable and we put him on one of the pack horses. If we put him on Willow he’ll be able to order the horse to run.” I watched Arthur’s face fall. He’d clearly had the same idea. Geraint and I approached him. He moved back and tried to keep us off him with his legs. I received a nice solid kick to the thigh but we wrestled him back to the ground. I sat on his legs, near his hips, while Geraint untied his hands and retied them to the front. Elbows and wrists, then his fingers. Not tight but firm. We lifted him. Else moved the packs on the smallest of our horses and we pushed him onto the beast. Willow looked surprised and affronted as we loaded him up with the bags.

  “Well, I
’ve lost my appetite,” Geraint said.

  “Are you alright?” Else asked me.

  I touched her face through my gloves, “I’m fine. You were the one he was manhandling.”

  She smiled and glanced at Arthur, “To be honest I’ve been handled by worse.”

  I grunted and we mounted. For the rest of the day we travelled southeast, avoiding towns and villages on the way. Arthur soon gave up fighting but we left him tied. I took control of his horse. Geraint led Willow. At midday we stopped. By this time, Arthur started to suffer. He sank into himself. The shakes began and the sweats soon followed. He stopped talking, well cursing and I rode beside him to make certain he didn’t fall.

  After watching him for some time my concern grew to breaking point. I slipped off Ash the wrong side so I didn’t have to leave Arthur’s side and pulled him from the pack horse. He shivered violently in my arms, almost gone from our presence in his suffering.

  I frowned, “He shouldn’t be this bad this soon,” I said helping him sit. He leaned into me and I sheltered him, he began to rock back and forth. Geraint knelt beside him.

  “Arthur?” he asked. “What have you been taking?”

  “Oh, God,” Else said. She knelt in front of us all. She pulled Arthur’s head from his chest and peeled open his eyes. She forced his mouth open and looked at his tongue, feeling his temperature. “He’s been poisoned.”

  “What?” I exploded. “How?”

  Geraint began undoing the ties and dashed off for water.

  “It’s not what you think,” Else said. “This has been going on for months, possibly years. He’s addicted to something other than alcohol, although that is probably the delivery method.” She raised her voice, “Do you drink from a private cellar, Arthur?”

  Geraint appeared with water and I tried to force some of it into my King. Arthur didn’t reply to Else’s question, Geraint said, “He drinks at least one bottle of wine from the collection Guinevere gave him. The supplies come from her own lands.”

  “Every day?” Else asked.

  “She insists, it’s in their marriage contract, a sign of the esteem he has for her father,” Geraint frowned. “Guinevere’s been poisoning him all these years?”

  “It might not be her and it might not have been forever, but someone who knows his routine has infiltrated those bottles,” Else said.

  “Is there anything we can do?” I asked as Arthur twitched against me, rolled and vomited up the water I’d given him.

  Else frowned and looked around her, “I can call on my family for help if we find a grove and a river.”

  “What family?” Geraint asked.

  “Your family have a habit of trapping us,” I said unhappily.

  “If we don’t find him help, he might die,” Else said. “We don’t have time to mess about. He needs whatever was in those bottles.”

  Geraint and I shared a long look, I nodded, “Alright, where do we go?”

  Else pointed to a wood in the distance, she shut her eyes and screwed her face up tight. When her face relaxed she nodded, “We can go there, they will help.”

  “I don’t want to know,” Geraint muttered. We lifted Arthur and put him onto Ash. I sprang up behind him and held Arthur against my chest.

  “I’ll make it fastest on my own, Geraint can’t manage all these horses,” I said.

  Else nodded, “Okay, I’ll tell them to accept you. They are allies to my family, but not my kin, be respectful and ask for help. There is a pool in the centre of the wood, a sacred grove. Don’t mess it up and don’t expect to see anything. Just strip him and take him into the water.”

  “It’s a bit cold for that,” Geraint said, remounting Pepper.

  “They will care for him, just don’t let him go, we don’t want them stealing the King from us,” Else said firmly. “I’ll join you if I can but they might only allow the two of you there. Your energy intrigues the best of us,” she added darkly.

  I wanted to ask more but Arthur moaned and his breathing changed to a pant. I kicked Ash and we instantly began to gallop.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  I rode hard, Arthur a dead weight in my arms. Why hadn’t any of us realised he’d been hurt so badly? His erratic behaviour, his dependency on alcohol, his foul temper. Someone should have noticed his withdrawal from his normal, cheerful, deeply personal leadership. Arthur’s finer qualities far outweighed the bad but they died under the onslaught of his drinking, why had no one stopped and asked?

  Perhaps because his friends all witnessed how he had treated me and they knew we were closer than brothers. If I couldn’t reach him, and I did try, none of us could have done. I betrayed him, made him angry with me and it spiralled from there. My affair with Guinevere lay at the heart of Arthur’s sickness.

  We slowed as we reached the woods. They were old, unused and clearly didn’t welcome casual human interaction. I slid off Ash and carried Arthur in my arms. Leaving my horse behind, I walked a narrow path. Arthur soon became too much of a dead weight in my arms, so I slung him over my shoulder and continued on into the strange wood.

  I realised it held the same qualities as the wood Else and I entered earlier that summer. The trees were bare and the leaves crunched under foot but the sound was swallowed whole by the hush of the place. Old oak, ash, elder and hawthorn filled the wood, but my feet did not trip once, nor were our clothes caught on stray branches. I wandered to the right and I felt a tug on my mind, so instantly corrected my course to the left. The silence wrapped its arms around my body and helped me carry the weight of my King. Things, at the edge of my vision fluttered and dived from sight. Images, flashes of colour and even tinkling laughter on a wind, which wove around me, rather than blowing, all increased the sense I had stepped over the threshold into another world. I walked slowly, careful of my intentions, holding any fear or trepidation in my mind at bay. I must do this for Arthur and I would trust Else. Despite the spell I laboured under, I knew how much these places healed a wounded soul. I knew how strong it had made me despite my anger when I realised I’d been tricked.

  I found the pool. It did not surprise me. A fine mist rose from the surface and I knew the water would be warm and kind to my friend. I dropped slowly to my knees and moved Arthur off my shoulder to lay him on the mossy ground. I bowed my head in supplication of whatever guardian this grove contained and breathed evenly, finally feeling centred enough to ask for help. I didn’t move or utter a sound but my intentions were clear in my mind. The wind gusted for a moment and I looked down at Arthur, a white feather settled on his chest. I took this as the sign I needed. Now, I hurried. Arthur’s breathing too shallow and all colour in his cheeks gone. I stripped him and myself in record time, laying our weapons on the bank of the pool. The mist intensified as I worked. The opposite bank vanished in the swirling clouds. I picked Arthur up in my arms, muscles straining to hold him, and walked to the edge. It sloped gently down into the water and I followed the riverbed. My feet sank into warm mud and the water felt like a bath.

  The heat hit my thighs and I lowered Arthur into it even as I walked deeper myself. When it caressed his chest and my own, I stood and released him from my right arm. He lay against my body not across it, his head on my left shoulder, his eyes closed. He felt limp, empty of life in my arms. I touched his head with my right hand, my left firmly around his waist and pushed back with my feet so we would float together on the surface of the water. I don’t know how long I remained on my back, Arthur inert in my arms, but I realised I felt fingers, not just currents of warm water, on my legs and back. I tried not to flinch and just to accept the magic my friend needed. Those fingers tickled and prickled over all of me, Arthur finally groaned and sighed next to me. His hand flexed on my stomach where it lay softly and the other came around my back. If he moved suddenly, we would be forced under the water, so I tried to lower my legs but found I couldn’t. We were suspended in the water, held by more than just warmth and steam.

  I didn’t fight the sensation tho
ugh it did make me nervous to be this vulnerable. Arthur’s mouth found my neck and all thoughts of possible threats vanished. He kissed my skin, his hands beginning to rove over my naked body. I instantly went hard and groaned. The first sound I’d made. He stole the sound in a kiss as the firmness of water allowed him to move over me. His lips felt full, his skin rougher than I remembered when we’d been young and his body firmer, harder, thicker. I felt his cock hard against my thigh, which brought me back to the real world.

  “Arthur, wait, please,” I whispered softly, trying to pull out of his grasp slightly.

  He finally looked at me, his eyes the purest, deepest blue I had ever seen them, he smiled. The joy and hope in his face brought tears to my own eyes. He kissed them away.

  “Wait, please, you are so vulnerable. I can’t let this happen, my King,” tears welled inside me as he held me. I had loved this man and only this man, for so damned long.

  “You have the darkest eyes of anyone I have ever met,” he said, running his fingers through my wet hair. “I have seen the death of a hundred men in those eyes and the soul of the man who must bear that burden for me. Lancelot, I love you and I can let this happen, if you will consent. Please, consent my love,” Arthur said.

  I wanted desperately to feel the ground under my feet and my sword in my hand. Right then I would rather have faced a thousand men in battle if it meant I didn’t have to allow Arthur access to my heart. I knew if I let this continue he would have all of me. I would still love Else, but Arthur would own my soul. I wanted to give it to him but should I give it to him?

  Dozens of small hands held still. Arthur looked down at me as if I lay on the softest of feather mattresses.

  The thought hurt in my head, burned my throat and scolded my tongue as I forced it to move, “I can’t.”

  I watched his eyes dilate in shock, “Please, love, trust me. This is not what you think. They need their reward for helping me. If not this, then it will be our blood.”

  “I don’t understand,” I managed.