Part 12: link
“Merlin, are آپ all right?” Gwen asks, knowing the answer.
“Oh my God, Gwen, did آپ hear him?” Merlin is raving, voice raised, arms waving. “The man was a complete… ass about not getting to see Arthur yesterday, and then he claims that the only reason he’s here is to socialize?”
Gwen shakes her head, not wanting to laugh at Merlin. But he’s just so funny when he’s like this.
“The sooner he’s out of here the better,” he says.
“Yes, he is a complete toad, as Arthur said. Did آپ see how he was watching me? It was like he was expecting me to eat with my hand یا chew with my mouth open, something crass. Honestly. Just because I wasn’t born a noble does not mean I don’t have میز, جدول manners.”
“Heh. میز, جدول manners that I noticed that he was pretty much devoid of himself,” Merlin laughs, but there really isn’t any humor in the laughter. “Gwen…” he says, his face clouding.
“What is it, Merlin?”
“I don’t think we can trust Lord Roderick. I fear he is… not what he appears.”
“What do آپ mean?”
“He’s up to something.”
Gwen gives him a quizzical look.
“I don’t have time to go into it right now, but I’ll tell both of آپ as soon as I can. I really need to go.” He starts to walk away.
“Arthur won’t be mad if you’re a few منٹ longer.”
“It’s not Arthur I’m worried about. I want to keep my eye on Lord Dungball.”
“Okay, tell us when آپ bring lunch. Arthur and I wish to dine in our chambers. Hopefully Dungball will be gone سے طرف کی then.”
Merlin laughs, enjoying hearing her call Roderick ‘Dungball.’
Gwen walks toward the kitchens, Merlin’s warning running through her brain. I wonder what he knows? What happened yesterday while Arthur and I were sequestered away in our own little world?
She is so deep in her thoughts, walking the empty corridors, that she doesn’t notice a figure sidling up.
“Hello, what have we here?”
“Oh!” Gwen starts, snapped out of her puzzlement. There is a strange man dressed all in brown, one she has never seen before, standing very close to her. Uncomfortably close. “I’m sorry, are آپ new here? I don’t believe I’ve met you,” she stammers, trying to back away, only to find a دیوار hindering her.
“Just a visitor, arrived yesterday. How I missed you in my wanderings I’ll never know,” he says, his voice oily. He steps closer still.
“Yes, well… um… please, will آپ step back?” she asks. Where the hell are the guards?
“No, I think I rather like standing this close.” He leans in and inhales deeply. Guinevere cringes; this is not at all like Arthur’s sweet taking in of her scent because he loves her. This is unnerving; creepy. Dirty. Wrong.
“Ahhhhh…” he says, and licks his lips.
My dagger. Gwen slides her right hand along her waist, across to her left side where the dagger is resting and eases it out of its sheath.
“Step back یا آپ will no longer be able to truly call yourself a man,” she says, jabbing the tip of her dagger into him, very low on his stomach, just enough so he can feel it.
He jumps back, but only just a little. “Bitch! آپ don’t have the nerve!” he spits at her.
“No?” she pokes again, harder, and he steps further back, hissing.
“Who do آپ think آپ are, girl?”
“Queen Guinevere of Camelot, actually. Who do آپ think you are, exactly?”
“Um… ah…” he backs further away.
“Guards!”
“…so even though we currently are experiencing a period of relative quiet, there is no call to be lax. This is the time to sharpen our skills, improve. Learn new…” Merlin approaches just as Arthur’s voice trails off. He watches as the king’s eyes survey his assembled men.
“Where the hell is Gwaine?”
There is a general shuffling of feet and shaking of heads as knights mutter amongst themselves.
“We do not know, Sire,” Leon speaks up.
“Not on patrol this morning?” Arthur asks.
“No. He’s paired with me this rotation, in fact.”
“Merlin!” he shouts, turning to see Merlin standing right behind him.
“Yes, Sire?” Merlin says calmly.
“Find Gwaine. Check the taverns.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Gwaine’s voice calls back.
Arthur turns. “You’d better have a good excuse.”
“I do. I’ve brought new recruits.” Behind Gwaine are three strapping young men, two of whom look identical. “This is Drake, Winston, and Winthrop.”
“Hmm,” Arthur ponders, striding forward. “You’re Sherrod’s sons, are آپ not?”
They nod.
Lord Roderick watches this all with interest. Who are these boys? They certainly aren’t nobles. And yet Arthur is not dismissing them.
“None of آپ are interested in continuing your father’s farm?”
Farmers. Bah! the lord scoffs.
“We have another brother that is content to do this, my lord. We aspire to greater things, if we might.”
“You might,” Arthur hints, “if آپ survive.”
Merlin grins. Roderick is aghast.
“Does that mean…?” the spokesman of the group asks.
“Let’s see what آپ have to offer. Come on.”
He’s giving them a chance? These peasants? This is… this is blasphemy!
Merlin is watching Lord Roderick with interest. He looks like he is going to تقسیم, الگ کریں in two, he is so furious. Narrow-minded oaf.
The men form an impromptu دائرے, حلقہ around Arthur, who draws his sword.
“Who would like to go first? Drake, I believe آپ are the eldest, fancy a go?” Arthur asks.
Roderick takes this opportunity to wander amongst the various types of weaponry stacked around, resting on racks یا piled neatly on the ground. Merlin watches him carefully.
“It would be an honor, my lord,” ڈریک steps forward. He is slightly taller than Arthur, but not as tall as Leon یا Percival. Arthur contemplates his sword, then sheaths it again.
He sizes up the lad and turns. “Gwaine, آپ brought him. You’re up,” Arthur grins. “Drake, choose your weapon.”
Drake walks to the assembled weapons, looking for just the right item to showcase his skill. With a smile, he picks up a large mace and gives it an experimental swing. “Nice,” he mutters, and walks back to the circle.
“Gwaine?” Arthur asks.
“I’m good, thanks,” he says, drawing his sword.
“As it pleases you,” the king shrugs and steps to the side.
Drake moves first, swinging overhand. Gwaine dodges easily.
“Predictable,” he taunts.
Gwaine thrusts with his sword, almost making contact, but ڈریک spins out of the way, quite gracefully, in fact.
Lord Roderick snorts. Probably a poof, he thinks derisively, fingering a shield idly.
Merlin points his eyes in the direction of the rack of shields and makes them tumble like dominoes from the rack, starting with the one Roderick touched.
Arthur looks in the direction of the ruckus and rolls his eyes before returning his attention to the fight.
Drake makes a low سوئنگ, جھول at Gwaine’s legs, which he hops.
“Amateur,” he grins, but just then Drake’s mace makes solid contact with Gwaine’s shield, making him stagger back a few steps.
“Well done,” he commends as he regains his balance. He swishes his sword at a blinding speed, into the chain of the mace. The ball swings around the blade and Gwaine pulls sharply back on it, disarming Drake.
The knights laugh and cheer for Gwaine, who claps ڈریک on the shoulder in a congratulatory fashion.
Arthur strides آگے again, applauding. “Well done, indeed, Drake. Now let’s see how your brothers fare.” He turns to the twins. “Okay, Pete and Re-Pete: who’s next?”
“I didn’t know who she was, I swear!” Bertrand protests as two guards drag him bodily to the stocks.
“And that is the only reason آپ have not been separated from your head,” one guard says. “You are actually a very fortunate man.”
“Fortunate?”
“Oh, yeah,” the سیکنڈ guard agrees. “If the king had intercepted you, he’d’ve run آپ through without a سیکنڈ thought. Your fortune is courtesy of our Queen. She is much مزید forgiving than King Arthur.”
Bertrand is shoved down into the stocks, which are closed unceremoniously over the back of his neck and his wrists. As the first guard secures the lock, a boy approaches the second.
“What did he do, my lord?”
The guard looks down with a smile. “He was… unkind to Queen Guinevere.”
The boy’s eyes widen. “No!”
The guard nods, and the boy runs away, calling, “Mum! Mum! You’ll never guess!”
The سیکنڈ guard looks at the first guard as a small crowd begins to gather. Several have heard what he told the boy, and the muttering has started. Nothing like a little public humiliation and gossip to draw a crowd, he thinks. He looks at his partner and says, “Perhaps our queen isn’t as forgiving as we think.”
The first guard laughs, as the boy comes running back with a basket of spoiled produce. “She does have a certain way about her, doesn’t she?” he agrees as he walks to his companion, ready to head back to the palace.
“Wait!” Bertrand calls.
“What is it, pig?”
“How long do I have to stay here?”
“The queen has declared that آپ are to stay there until your master comes to retrieve you. At that time آپ are both to leave Camelot and you are henceforth banished from this kingdom.”
“But my master doesn’t even know I’m here!” he whines.
“Not our problem,” the سیکنڈ guard answers.
“You should have thought of that before آپ started menacing beautiful ladies. Regardless of who they are,” the first one agrees, and they turn to leave.
Behind them they hear the unmistakable leafy splat of a rotten head of لیٹش, کاہو کے پتّے making contact with a human skull.
“Which one are you?” Elyan asks, looking up at his opponent. Elyan is not very tall, and the twin is a full head taller.
“Winston,” he says. “And you’re the queen’s brother,” he adds, recognizing him.
“I am,” he says. I hope, he adds mentally.
Winston has chosen a battleaxe as his weapon, and, unlike Gwaine, Elyan has followed suit.
“Enough flirting, let’s go!” Gwaine calls, and several knights laugh.
As Winston charges and Elyan dodges, Lord Roderick slinks and Merlin observes.
What is he looking for? Is he just… taking a weapons inventory? Taking measure of the knights’ skills, looking for weaknesses? He dismisses this last. He’s not bright enough for that. And from the looks of him, he hasn’t picked up anything sharper than a میز, جدول چھری in many years.
Elyan’s axe slashes down into Winston’s shield, which he lifts just in time, ducking. He then sweeps his foot around, tripping Elyan and the knight falls. Winston drops his axe to give him a hand up as the knights cheer again.
Arthur strides forward, nodding his approval. “Not bad, not bad. A little rough, but there is definite potential there. Elyan, all right?” he asks.
“Yes, Sire,” he says, nodding. The two men lock eyes for a brief moment, each understanding the other, each knowing that Arthur is asking about مزید than just the trial fight.
“Winthrop, saved the best for last, I hope?” Arthur turns to the other twin. He angles his head as he sees the lad is carrying a pitchfork.
“Brought my own, if آپ don’t mind, Sire,” Winthrop grins.
“Interesting,” Arthur’s eyebrows rise. “And truly fit for our own weapons expert.” He turns, searching for the face he is seeking. “Leon!” he shouts, and the knights holler and whistle their approval.
“A pitchfork, really?” Leon complains.
“It’s nothing مزید than a quarter staff, my lord. With one really dangerous end,” Winthrop defends his choice of weaponry, twirling it in his hands idly.
“See? Don’t be such a snob,” Arthur laughs. “I like the lad’s inventiveness. Conventional weapons may not always be available,” he comments, ever giving instruction, his face thoughtful.
Leon grumbles over to the racks and chooses a long spear, figuring that is close enough.
As soon as he is within range, Winthrop attacks, throwing Leon off guard, and he jumps out of the way.
“Whoa, no fair!”
Leon sweeps his spear at knee-level, and Winthrop jumps just in the nick of time.
Merlin spies Roderick poking around the maces and other various chained weapons, and with a whispered word, a length of chain wraps itself around the lord’s boot.
Winthrop thrusts his pitchfork perpendicular to Leon’s spear and nabs it in the tines. He tosses the spear a distance away with a grin. The knights cheer and Leon scowls. Winthrop indicates that Leon should retrieve the spear, which he does, muttering “Show-off,” under his breath.
Spear back in hand, he parries as the pitchfork comes his way again and dodges to one side. Quick as lightning, he thrusts the spear آگے and rotates it, spinning the pitchfork out of Winston’s grasp. The fork lands in the ground on its tines, and Leon sweeps the spear again, this time making contact with the backs of Winthrop’s knees and the boy falls.
More cheering, and Arthur walks آگے as Leon gives Winthrop a hand up and pats him on the back.
“Don’t like your ‘weapon,’ but آپ wield it well,” he compliments the young man.
“I think the three of آپ will make fine recruits,” Arthur declares as ڈریک and Winston rejoin him in the center.
“Thank you, Sire,” ڈریک says. He seems like he has something else on his mind.
“Yes? Speak your mind, please,” Arthur says.
“We have something we’d like to دکھائیں you, my lord. Well, my brothers do,” ڈریک says, nodding at them.
“What is it?” Arthur is intrigued.
“We would like to دکھائیں آپ our skills…” Winston says.
“…fighting together, my lord,” Winthrop finishes.
“Both of you, fighting as a pair? What’s unique about that?” Arthur asks.
“We do not need to, um, communicate, my lord,” Winston says carefully.
Arthur’s eyebrows rise.
“I assure you, it’s not magic, my lord. We have no magic of any kind,” Winthrop says hastily. “It’s just that… as twins, we are…”
“…closer than most. We just always know what the other is up to,” Winston picks up.
“It’s true, my lord. They used to cause all sorts of trouble that way,” he laughs.
“Not magic,” Arthur looks at them levelly.
“No, sire.”
The king hesitates, thinking.
“My lord, would we be telling آپ all this if it were magic?” ڈریک asks.
“Good point. دکھائیں me,” he says, drawing his sword.
Swords and shields are tossed to the twins and the battle begins, two against one.
The twins stand side سے طرف کی side, facing Arthur.
“Hmm, left handed even, eh Winthrop? That’s certainly convenient,” Arthur says, noting that this allows each man to hold a sword on the outside of him, so that they are protected on both sides.
Roderick steps forward, interested in seeing this match-up. It is Arthur, after all, that he has hung around to see. He takes a step and falls on his face in the dirt.
“Bloody hell!” he curses, kicking his foot trying to free it.
Merlin turns away so the lord doesn’t see him laughing.
The twins اقدام in concert, as if they are one being. Arthur watches them carefully, looking for an opening, a weakness, something he can use to defeat them. His powers of observation are part of the reason he is so successful in the arena and the battlefield.
Winston – یا Winthrop – lunges first, and Arthur parries easily while he dodges the other twin’s thrust. They spin and attack again, and one makes small contact with the king’s shield, but not much more.
Twin One dodges; Twin Two slashes. Arthur sweeps his sword, catching one shield but not the other. He draws back, collecting his thoughts.
Fighting two swords… two swords… Two. Swords. That’s it. Arthur shakes the shield from his left arm, dropping it to the ground. He spins and grabs a sword from the sheath of the nearest knight in his left hand.
“Thanks.”
He turns back to the twins, a devilish grin splitting his face as he swishes both swords in the air in front of him. “Now we’re even,” he says, and attacks.
He fights each man with a hand, his left just as adept with a sword as his right. The twins keep up, but Arthur is formidable, seeming to anticipate their every move. They soon find themselves مزید on the defensive than offensive.
Roderick pulls his foot forcefully, and it comes free of the chain. And the boot. With another curse, he reaches آگے to unwind the chain from around his boot before yanking it back on. He stands just in time to see Arthur disarm the twins almost simultaneously. Bugger it all to hell, Roderick thinks, fuming.
The knights go wild, cheering loudly, and Arthur bows. When he straightens out, he looks up and sees Guinevere watching him from a high window, and he tosses Bedivere’s sword back to him so he has a free hand with which to blow her a kiss. He is rewarded with a smile from his queen before she throws one back to him. The knights notice the direction of Arthur’s gaze and see their queen watching from above. She applauds them and they cheer for her, prompting her to throw them all kisses, laughing merrily, before waving warmly at them and disappearing from the window.
“All right, if I may regain your attention now that my wife is no longer distracting آپ all?”
The knights reassemble, closing the دائرے, حلقہ around Arthur and the three brothers. “Very good, very good,” Arthur says to the twins. “That skill will come in very handy on the battlefield indeed. I’d actually be very interested in seeing he two of آپ pitted against one another.”
“It goes on forever, my lord, trust me,” ڈریک laughs.
Arthur joins his laughter and says, “All right, then. Come back tomorrow morning, ready for training in earnest.”
The knights cheer again and close in on the three farmer’s sons, congratulating them.
“May we stay yet this morning, my lord?” ڈریک asks once the uproar has quieted some.
“You may go to the armory and get fitted with some proper mail this morning,” he instructs them, patting Winthrop on the shoulder.
“Yes, sire,” ڈریک nods, smiling as he and his brothers make their exit.
Arthur goes to the water barrel for a drink and sees two guards approaching. They are walking towards Lord Roderick.
He drinks, watching. What’s going on? he wonders. He catches Merlin’s eye and nods in Roderick’s direction. Merlin strides over and speaks briefly with the guards. He doesn’t look very happy with what he is told, and then he leaves with a furious-looking Roderick and the two guards.
Arthur puzzles over this scene for a moment, then turns back to his knights. “All right, pair off. Sparring practice; mixed weaponry…”
Part 14: link
“Merlin, are آپ all right?” Gwen asks, knowing the answer.
“Oh my God, Gwen, did آپ hear him?” Merlin is raving, voice raised, arms waving. “The man was a complete… ass about not getting to see Arthur yesterday, and then he claims that the only reason he’s here is to socialize?”
Gwen shakes her head, not wanting to laugh at Merlin. But he’s just so funny when he’s like this.
“The sooner he’s out of here the better,” he says.
“Yes, he is a complete toad, as Arthur said. Did آپ see how he was watching me? It was like he was expecting me to eat with my hand یا chew with my mouth open, something crass. Honestly. Just because I wasn’t born a noble does not mean I don’t have میز, جدول manners.”
“Heh. میز, جدول manners that I noticed that he was pretty much devoid of himself,” Merlin laughs, but there really isn’t any humor in the laughter. “Gwen…” he says, his face clouding.
“What is it, Merlin?”
“I don’t think we can trust Lord Roderick. I fear he is… not what he appears.”
“What do آپ mean?”
“He’s up to something.”
Gwen gives him a quizzical look.
“I don’t have time to go into it right now, but I’ll tell both of آپ as soon as I can. I really need to go.” He starts to walk away.
“Arthur won’t be mad if you’re a few منٹ longer.”
“It’s not Arthur I’m worried about. I want to keep my eye on Lord Dungball.”
“Okay, tell us when آپ bring lunch. Arthur and I wish to dine in our chambers. Hopefully Dungball will be gone سے طرف کی then.”
Merlin laughs, enjoying hearing her call Roderick ‘Dungball.’
Gwen walks toward the kitchens, Merlin’s warning running through her brain. I wonder what he knows? What happened yesterday while Arthur and I were sequestered away in our own little world?
She is so deep in her thoughts, walking the empty corridors, that she doesn’t notice a figure sidling up.
“Hello, what have we here?”
“Oh!” Gwen starts, snapped out of her puzzlement. There is a strange man dressed all in brown, one she has never seen before, standing very close to her. Uncomfortably close. “I’m sorry, are آپ new here? I don’t believe I’ve met you,” she stammers, trying to back away, only to find a دیوار hindering her.
“Just a visitor, arrived yesterday. How I missed you in my wanderings I’ll never know,” he says, his voice oily. He steps closer still.
“Yes, well… um… please, will آپ step back?” she asks. Where the hell are the guards?
“No, I think I rather like standing this close.” He leans in and inhales deeply. Guinevere cringes; this is not at all like Arthur’s sweet taking in of her scent because he loves her. This is unnerving; creepy. Dirty. Wrong.
“Ahhhhh…” he says, and licks his lips.
My dagger. Gwen slides her right hand along her waist, across to her left side where the dagger is resting and eases it out of its sheath.
“Step back یا آپ will no longer be able to truly call yourself a man,” she says, jabbing the tip of her dagger into him, very low on his stomach, just enough so he can feel it.
He jumps back, but only just a little. “Bitch! آپ don’t have the nerve!” he spits at her.
“No?” she pokes again, harder, and he steps further back, hissing.
“Who do آپ think آپ are, girl?”
“Queen Guinevere of Camelot, actually. Who do آپ think you are, exactly?”
“Um… ah…” he backs further away.
“Guards!”
“…so even though we currently are experiencing a period of relative quiet, there is no call to be lax. This is the time to sharpen our skills, improve. Learn new…” Merlin approaches just as Arthur’s voice trails off. He watches as the king’s eyes survey his assembled men.
“Where the hell is Gwaine?”
There is a general shuffling of feet and shaking of heads as knights mutter amongst themselves.
“We do not know, Sire,” Leon speaks up.
“Not on patrol this morning?” Arthur asks.
“No. He’s paired with me this rotation, in fact.”
“Merlin!” he shouts, turning to see Merlin standing right behind him.
“Yes, Sire?” Merlin says calmly.
“Find Gwaine. Check the taverns.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Gwaine’s voice calls back.
Arthur turns. “You’d better have a good excuse.”
“I do. I’ve brought new recruits.” Behind Gwaine are three strapping young men, two of whom look identical. “This is Drake, Winston, and Winthrop.”
“Hmm,” Arthur ponders, striding forward. “You’re Sherrod’s sons, are آپ not?”
They nod.
Lord Roderick watches this all with interest. Who are these boys? They certainly aren’t nobles. And yet Arthur is not dismissing them.
“None of آپ are interested in continuing your father’s farm?”
Farmers. Bah! the lord scoffs.
“We have another brother that is content to do this, my lord. We aspire to greater things, if we might.”
“You might,” Arthur hints, “if آپ survive.”
Merlin grins. Roderick is aghast.
“Does that mean…?” the spokesman of the group asks.
“Let’s see what آپ have to offer. Come on.”
He’s giving them a chance? These peasants? This is… this is blasphemy!
Merlin is watching Lord Roderick with interest. He looks like he is going to تقسیم, الگ کریں in two, he is so furious. Narrow-minded oaf.
The men form an impromptu دائرے, حلقہ around Arthur, who draws his sword.
“Who would like to go first? Drake, I believe آپ are the eldest, fancy a go?” Arthur asks.
Roderick takes this opportunity to wander amongst the various types of weaponry stacked around, resting on racks یا piled neatly on the ground. Merlin watches him carefully.
“It would be an honor, my lord,” ڈریک steps forward. He is slightly taller than Arthur, but not as tall as Leon یا Percival. Arthur contemplates his sword, then sheaths it again.
He sizes up the lad and turns. “Gwaine, آپ brought him. You’re up,” Arthur grins. “Drake, choose your weapon.”
Drake walks to the assembled weapons, looking for just the right item to showcase his skill. With a smile, he picks up a large mace and gives it an experimental swing. “Nice,” he mutters, and walks back to the circle.
“Gwaine?” Arthur asks.
“I’m good, thanks,” he says, drawing his sword.
“As it pleases you,” the king shrugs and steps to the side.
Drake moves first, swinging overhand. Gwaine dodges easily.
“Predictable,” he taunts.
Gwaine thrusts with his sword, almost making contact, but ڈریک spins out of the way, quite gracefully, in fact.
Lord Roderick snorts. Probably a poof, he thinks derisively, fingering a shield idly.
Merlin points his eyes in the direction of the rack of shields and makes them tumble like dominoes from the rack, starting with the one Roderick touched.
Arthur looks in the direction of the ruckus and rolls his eyes before returning his attention to the fight.
Drake makes a low سوئنگ, جھول at Gwaine’s legs, which he hops.
“Amateur,” he grins, but just then Drake’s mace makes solid contact with Gwaine’s shield, making him stagger back a few steps.
“Well done,” he commends as he regains his balance. He swishes his sword at a blinding speed, into the chain of the mace. The ball swings around the blade and Gwaine pulls sharply back on it, disarming Drake.
The knights laugh and cheer for Gwaine, who claps ڈریک on the shoulder in a congratulatory fashion.
Arthur strides آگے again, applauding. “Well done, indeed, Drake. Now let’s see how your brothers fare.” He turns to the twins. “Okay, Pete and Re-Pete: who’s next?”
“I didn’t know who she was, I swear!” Bertrand protests as two guards drag him bodily to the stocks.
“And that is the only reason آپ have not been separated from your head,” one guard says. “You are actually a very fortunate man.”
“Fortunate?”
“Oh, yeah,” the سیکنڈ guard agrees. “If the king had intercepted you, he’d’ve run آپ through without a سیکنڈ thought. Your fortune is courtesy of our Queen. She is much مزید forgiving than King Arthur.”
Bertrand is shoved down into the stocks, which are closed unceremoniously over the back of his neck and his wrists. As the first guard secures the lock, a boy approaches the second.
“What did he do, my lord?”
The guard looks down with a smile. “He was… unkind to Queen Guinevere.”
The boy’s eyes widen. “No!”
The guard nods, and the boy runs away, calling, “Mum! Mum! You’ll never guess!”
The سیکنڈ guard looks at the first guard as a small crowd begins to gather. Several have heard what he told the boy, and the muttering has started. Nothing like a little public humiliation and gossip to draw a crowd, he thinks. He looks at his partner and says, “Perhaps our queen isn’t as forgiving as we think.”
The first guard laughs, as the boy comes running back with a basket of spoiled produce. “She does have a certain way about her, doesn’t she?” he agrees as he walks to his companion, ready to head back to the palace.
“Wait!” Bertrand calls.
“What is it, pig?”
“How long do I have to stay here?”
“The queen has declared that آپ are to stay there until your master comes to retrieve you. At that time آپ are both to leave Camelot and you are henceforth banished from this kingdom.”
“But my master doesn’t even know I’m here!” he whines.
“Not our problem,” the سیکنڈ guard answers.
“You should have thought of that before آپ started menacing beautiful ladies. Regardless of who they are,” the first one agrees, and they turn to leave.
Behind them they hear the unmistakable leafy splat of a rotten head of لیٹش, کاہو کے پتّے making contact with a human skull.
“Which one are you?” Elyan asks, looking up at his opponent. Elyan is not very tall, and the twin is a full head taller.
“Winston,” he says. “And you’re the queen’s brother,” he adds, recognizing him.
“I am,” he says. I hope, he adds mentally.
Winston has chosen a battleaxe as his weapon, and, unlike Gwaine, Elyan has followed suit.
“Enough flirting, let’s go!” Gwaine calls, and several knights laugh.
As Winston charges and Elyan dodges, Lord Roderick slinks and Merlin observes.
What is he looking for? Is he just… taking a weapons inventory? Taking measure of the knights’ skills, looking for weaknesses? He dismisses this last. He’s not bright enough for that. And from the looks of him, he hasn’t picked up anything sharper than a میز, جدول چھری in many years.
Elyan’s axe slashes down into Winston’s shield, which he lifts just in time, ducking. He then sweeps his foot around, tripping Elyan and the knight falls. Winston drops his axe to give him a hand up as the knights cheer again.
Arthur strides forward, nodding his approval. “Not bad, not bad. A little rough, but there is definite potential there. Elyan, all right?” he asks.
“Yes, Sire,” he says, nodding. The two men lock eyes for a brief moment, each understanding the other, each knowing that Arthur is asking about مزید than just the trial fight.
“Winthrop, saved the best for last, I hope?” Arthur turns to the other twin. He angles his head as he sees the lad is carrying a pitchfork.
“Brought my own, if آپ don’t mind, Sire,” Winthrop grins.
“Interesting,” Arthur’s eyebrows rise. “And truly fit for our own weapons expert.” He turns, searching for the face he is seeking. “Leon!” he shouts, and the knights holler and whistle their approval.
“A pitchfork, really?” Leon complains.
“It’s nothing مزید than a quarter staff, my lord. With one really dangerous end,” Winthrop defends his choice of weaponry, twirling it in his hands idly.
“See? Don’t be such a snob,” Arthur laughs. “I like the lad’s inventiveness. Conventional weapons may not always be available,” he comments, ever giving instruction, his face thoughtful.
Leon grumbles over to the racks and chooses a long spear, figuring that is close enough.
As soon as he is within range, Winthrop attacks, throwing Leon off guard, and he jumps out of the way.
“Whoa, no fair!”
Leon sweeps his spear at knee-level, and Winthrop jumps just in the nick of time.
Merlin spies Roderick poking around the maces and other various chained weapons, and with a whispered word, a length of chain wraps itself around the lord’s boot.
Winthrop thrusts his pitchfork perpendicular to Leon’s spear and nabs it in the tines. He tosses the spear a distance away with a grin. The knights cheer and Leon scowls. Winthrop indicates that Leon should retrieve the spear, which he does, muttering “Show-off,” under his breath.
Spear back in hand, he parries as the pitchfork comes his way again and dodges to one side. Quick as lightning, he thrusts the spear آگے and rotates it, spinning the pitchfork out of Winston’s grasp. The fork lands in the ground on its tines, and Leon sweeps the spear again, this time making contact with the backs of Winthrop’s knees and the boy falls.
More cheering, and Arthur walks آگے as Leon gives Winthrop a hand up and pats him on the back.
“Don’t like your ‘weapon,’ but آپ wield it well,” he compliments the young man.
“I think the three of آپ will make fine recruits,” Arthur declares as ڈریک and Winston rejoin him in the center.
“Thank you, Sire,” ڈریک says. He seems like he has something else on his mind.
“Yes? Speak your mind, please,” Arthur says.
“We have something we’d like to دکھائیں you, my lord. Well, my brothers do,” ڈریک says, nodding at them.
“What is it?” Arthur is intrigued.
“We would like to دکھائیں آپ our skills…” Winston says.
“…fighting together, my lord,” Winthrop finishes.
“Both of you, fighting as a pair? What’s unique about that?” Arthur asks.
“We do not need to, um, communicate, my lord,” Winston says carefully.
Arthur’s eyebrows rise.
“I assure you, it’s not magic, my lord. We have no magic of any kind,” Winthrop says hastily. “It’s just that… as twins, we are…”
“…closer than most. We just always know what the other is up to,” Winston picks up.
“It’s true, my lord. They used to cause all sorts of trouble that way,” he laughs.
“Not magic,” Arthur looks at them levelly.
“No, sire.”
The king hesitates, thinking.
“My lord, would we be telling آپ all this if it were magic?” ڈریک asks.
“Good point. دکھائیں me,” he says, drawing his sword.
Swords and shields are tossed to the twins and the battle begins, two against one.
The twins stand side سے طرف کی side, facing Arthur.
“Hmm, left handed even, eh Winthrop? That’s certainly convenient,” Arthur says, noting that this allows each man to hold a sword on the outside of him, so that they are protected on both sides.
Roderick steps forward, interested in seeing this match-up. It is Arthur, after all, that he has hung around to see. He takes a step and falls on his face in the dirt.
“Bloody hell!” he curses, kicking his foot trying to free it.
Merlin turns away so the lord doesn’t see him laughing.
The twins اقدام in concert, as if they are one being. Arthur watches them carefully, looking for an opening, a weakness, something he can use to defeat them. His powers of observation are part of the reason he is so successful in the arena and the battlefield.
Winston – یا Winthrop – lunges first, and Arthur parries easily while he dodges the other twin’s thrust. They spin and attack again, and one makes small contact with the king’s shield, but not much more.
Twin One dodges; Twin Two slashes. Arthur sweeps his sword, catching one shield but not the other. He draws back, collecting his thoughts.
Fighting two swords… two swords… Two. Swords. That’s it. Arthur shakes the shield from his left arm, dropping it to the ground. He spins and grabs a sword from the sheath of the nearest knight in his left hand.
“Thanks.”
He turns back to the twins, a devilish grin splitting his face as he swishes both swords in the air in front of him. “Now we’re even,” he says, and attacks.
He fights each man with a hand, his left just as adept with a sword as his right. The twins keep up, but Arthur is formidable, seeming to anticipate their every move. They soon find themselves مزید on the defensive than offensive.
Roderick pulls his foot forcefully, and it comes free of the chain. And the boot. With another curse, he reaches آگے to unwind the chain from around his boot before yanking it back on. He stands just in time to see Arthur disarm the twins almost simultaneously. Bugger it all to hell, Roderick thinks, fuming.
The knights go wild, cheering loudly, and Arthur bows. When he straightens out, he looks up and sees Guinevere watching him from a high window, and he tosses Bedivere’s sword back to him so he has a free hand with which to blow her a kiss. He is rewarded with a smile from his queen before she throws one back to him. The knights notice the direction of Arthur’s gaze and see their queen watching from above. She applauds them and they cheer for her, prompting her to throw them all kisses, laughing merrily, before waving warmly at them and disappearing from the window.
“All right, if I may regain your attention now that my wife is no longer distracting آپ all?”
The knights reassemble, closing the دائرے, حلقہ around Arthur and the three brothers. “Very good, very good,” Arthur says to the twins. “That skill will come in very handy on the battlefield indeed. I’d actually be very interested in seeing he two of آپ pitted against one another.”
“It goes on forever, my lord, trust me,” ڈریک laughs.
Arthur joins his laughter and says, “All right, then. Come back tomorrow morning, ready for training in earnest.”
The knights cheer again and close in on the three farmer’s sons, congratulating them.
“May we stay yet this morning, my lord?” ڈریک asks once the uproar has quieted some.
“You may go to the armory and get fitted with some proper mail this morning,” he instructs them, patting Winthrop on the shoulder.
“Yes, sire,” ڈریک nods, smiling as he and his brothers make their exit.
Arthur goes to the water barrel for a drink and sees two guards approaching. They are walking towards Lord Roderick.
He drinks, watching. What’s going on? he wonders. He catches Merlin’s eye and nods in Roderick’s direction. Merlin strides over and speaks briefly with the guards. He doesn’t look very happy with what he is told, and then he leaves with a furious-looking Roderick and the two guards.
Arthur puzzles over this scene for a moment, then turns back to his knights. “All right, pair off. Sparring practice; mixed weaponry…”
Part 14: link