The Calling

“But who is Nimue?” said Francis, slightly embarrassed by his own lustful intention toward this man’s...what? he didn’t quite know who she was and what she was to Merlin.

“Nimue is an Enchantress” began Merlin, “a Harpy” he looked into the water of the chalice and smiled sadly as the image swirled in the liquid. “She was my lover” he admitted sadly as an image of a woman standing naked in the midst of a large lake appeared in the water. “She beguiled me with false tales and promises” he smiled as he watched her sink beneath the water and whispered into the chalice, “my love...”

“I... I’m sorry” said Francis struggling to find the words, “but what does this have to do with me?” his question hung in the air for a moment and he wondered whether he should leave the old man to his thoughts.

“Nimue is the mistress of the Lake” he said eventually, slowly turning to address Francis. “It was she that betroth Excalibur to Arthur upon his ascension to the throne”

Francis frowned, “But I thought, Excalibur was pulled from the stone...that was what deemed Arthur fit to rule”

“Only partially correct my young friend” said Merlin smiling, “the sword set into the stone was indeed a test placed there by divine right to the true successor of the throne. It was on this test of character and purity that Arthur was chosen by divinity to rule as King, but it was Nimue was presented the enchanted sword to the King upon his ascension” he explained.

“Aye!” agreed Kay from the shadows, “and if I hadn’t injured my shoulder jousting...”

“You’d still be there now pulling on the wretched stone!” laughed Galahad. Kay snarled at the joke and the laughter which surrounded him.

Merlin chose to ignore the interruption and continued with his story. “Upon his death, the sword was returned to whence it came...” he cast a glance toward Bedivere who lowered his head as he spoke, “and after three attempts, ’twas finally returned”

“But I still don’t understand” insisted Francis, “what has this got to do me?”

“Thine boy is truly the King’s kindred” laughed Kay tapping the side of his skull.

Tristan frowned, “not too bright is he?” he agreed.

“Are we to believe this to be the heir to the throne” snapped Galahad.

“Please!” snapped Merlin, “legend states that Excalibur will awaken in time of need” he explained. “It appears that time is now”

“Inn-keep!” shouted Mordred, “more ale!” he ordered slamming the empty glass on the table.

“Father...” whispered Gwen over the bar toward her father, who sat watching the antics of the two Knights. He looked at his daughter and nodded, standing from his chair and slowly picked his way through the maze of tables which lay before them.

“Excuse me sir...” he began as he stood over the table, his eyes straying across the empty glasses on the wooden surface of the table.

“Ah, good Inn-keep” said Mordred, “what is thine name”

“Leo...” said the landlord softly.

“Then Leo...drink with us” he said laughing and thrust the chair next to him out from beneath the table. “Sit...sit...” he urged.

“I’m sorry...” stammered the Landlord weakly, “but I must ask, how you intend to pay for this” he indicated across the table at the empty vessels strewn over the table.

“What does thoust mean?” snapped Mordred, “come on man...spit it out!”

“My Lord” injected Agravain, “he seeks retribution for his wares” he explained.

“Ah, I understand” laughed Mordred, “my tally!” He looked at Leo and smiled, “you wish compensation for thoust wares” he stated staring at...no through the Landlord. Leo nodded and fiddled with his fingers as he watched the smile fade form Mordred’s face. “Do you not know who I am!” he snapped and thrust his hand across the table scattering the glasses across the floor, where they smashed into a thousand tiny shards. He stood from his seat and slapped his hand across his black polished armour, “I am Mordred...rightful King of England!” he lowered his hands to grip the edge of the table and looked directly at Agravain as he spoke, “and if it wasn’t for that accursed Arthur I would still be King” he spat.

“That may be” said Leo defiantly, “but thoust...sorry...you” he corrected himself as he spoke “must still pay for these drinks”

“You dare defy me!” shouted Mordred straightening and staring into the eyes of the Landlord. “I shall mite thee where you stand...now get me more drinks before thou shall feel the edge of my blade”

“Now...now...sir” stammered Leo, “there is no need...”

Mordred brought his hand across his cheek, sending the landlord sprawling across the floor, “insolent dog!” he spat.

Leo could taste the bitter iron tinge of his own blood swell in his mouth as he struggled into a sitting position on the floor. His hand strayed to his mouth and he could feel through the tenderness, a slight bulge as his skin swelled beneath his touch. “Gwen...call the police” he said as Mordred stood over him, his hand playing over the hilt of his sword as he glowered down at the Landlord.

Gwen ran the length of the bar and pulled at the phone, lifting the receiver to her ear. The buzz of the phone echoed in her ear as her fingers stabbed at the numbers, 9...9...a sudden click diverted her attention from dialing and she looked at the phone hanging on the wall. A long elegant finger streaked over the cold plastic and pressed firmly down on the receiver. “Please my dear” purred the woman, who smiled as she spoke, “I think my nephew’s temper has gotten the better of him don’t you” she said hypnotically. Gwen found herself nodding as she stared at her older woman’s striking beauty. “Please...” she said softly and took the phone from Gwen’s hand and replaced it in its cradle. She looked down at the Landlord and smiled, “you will be duly compensated for your custom” she purred, “if you could...” she indicated toward the table at Mordred and Agravain. Leo nodded and pulled himself to his feet under the gaze of the newcomer and moved quietly to the bar. Morgan turned to Mordred who return to his seat and stared shamefaced into the last remaining dregs of his drink. “I might have known I’d find you in the nearest hostelry” she said softly and moved gracefully toward the table where she stood over the two men and gazed down at the remnants of glass around the floor. “Imbeciles!” she spat she brought her hand swiftly across Mordred’s face.

“Why now?” asked Francis, “and why me?”

“We still don’t know if you are indeed of the King” said the large Knight at the rear of the group.

“Please my Lord Galahad” eased Merlin, “we shall know soon enough”

“He does have a point” said Francis, “I mean I’m not so sure myself” he said

“See!”

Merlin shot Galahad a glance which settled the burly Knight’s revere, “he knows of your arrival” said Merlin cryptically, “and he will decide your divinity...or not” he paused and looked at Francis, “as to why now...I do not know” he admitted.

Francis nodded, still unsure of his surroundings, “what is this place...and who are they?” he asked.

“Surely my Lord Merlin...if he truly were Arthur then he would know these questions” insisted Galahad.

“What is your problem!” snapped Francis, “and who the hell do you think you are”

“I am Lord Galahad...holy Knight of the Round Table and sworn protector of the Grail”

“My Lord...” said Merlin softly, “you recovered the Grail, you are not the protector”

“But mine is the divine right!” snapped Galahad, “If you are truly the King then you shall have my life at your command...until then, I must reserve my right to doubt” Francis nodded his understanding and looked back at Merlin.

“As I said my Lord...” insisted Merlin, “you are not the protector” he said looking past the congregation of Knights and down the tunnel beyond, “but he is here...” he breathed quietly as he spoke, his eyes diverted into the darkness of the tunnel where the light was swallowed by the darkness.

In the distance of the tunnel a form moved in the darkness, followed by a dragging sound as something large pulled its way across the roughly sewn rocks and up the tunnel toward the cavern...