The Calling

“That’s it” said Francis standing to his feet, “I’ve had enough”

“What does thoust mean?” asked Merlin.

“I mean...I’ve had enough” Francis could feel his shoulder sag under the weight of expectancy. “The deaths...they are all laid at my door” he said looking around the cavern, “if I am the direct descendant of King Arthur, then I must be held responsible” the cavern was silent as the men inside the cave all watched Francis as he walked around the altar, he eyes never leaving the body of Tristan as he lay unmoving on the slab, “it is about time that I faced my duties...” he said stopping before Merlin and holding out Excalibur in his hands toward the old man, “therefore I shall go to the castle and confront Morgan myself”

“My Lord...”

“Tristan was right” Francis said, “I’ve been hiding behind all of you every step of the way, I must face my destiny”

“If that is thy desire...”

“It is” he nodded, “and as Tristan said what better way to die than for the maiden you love” he smiled at Merlin, “I’ve always wanted to be a hero, but never had the guts until now”

“My Lord...”

“No, I’m sorry. But I must do this” he turned to face the Knights, “alone...” he added.

“Nay!” snapped Kay, “thoust cannot”

“I can and I will. I am sorry Lord Kay, but I will not endanger anyone else. This is something I must do”

“I hope thine maiden is worth it” said Bedivere stepping forward and taking Francis’ hands.

“I shall lead thee to the edge of the forest” said Gawain

“Thank you” said Francis

“My Lord...”

“Yes Merlin?”

“What of Excalibur?”

“Excalibur shall remain in your care until I return”

“Should thee return” whispered Kay

“I will return Lord Kay, and when I do all this will come to an end...I promise”. He passed the sword the Merlin and turned to Gawain and nodded. A deep rumbling from the rear of the cavern interrupted his departure and Francis braced himself another attack by Morgan. “What is it?” he asked as he peered through the gloom as the noise increased. A pile of rocks moved around on the floor of the cavern, swarming and swelling over the wall and slowly climbed the cavern, embracing the wall forming a large column, stretching up the expanse of the cave wall.

“Our tomb” said Merlin quietly as he watched the rocks forming. Francis watched as they continued to climb up along the wall and for the first time noticed another two similar structures embracing the cavern wall. “These are where we rest until we answer the call of Excalibur” he walked around the altar and placed a hand on the uneven structure as it settled into place, “this is Tristan...” he said simply resting his head against the rock.

Francis stared back at the cave in the distance still visibly shaken by the sudden appearance of the stone structure. The body had still lain dormant on the altar, but he knew somewhere in his heart that the words Merlin had uttered had been correct. The curse and the whole, “thoust shall live an undying rest had stricken with him and he knew that the three columns held the sleeping essence of the Knights. Somehow, Francis knew they had all died after Camlaan, they all had their own personal stories to tell. Galahad with the Grail, Bors and the maiden, so he could conclude that with each death there ‘soul’ would return to the resting place and await the calling. He looked at Gawain and wondered what his story was. Of all the Knights this was the one he knew very little about, not through the legend of King Arthur, hell if that was the case he had to admit he knew little about any of them, but he had spent less time with this one than the others; even Bors had stories which he had been told, but nothing about Gawain.

He watched the figure of the Knight as he strode through the Cornish countryside confidently pushing through waving grass, as his eyes shone in the sunlight while surveying the surrounding countryside. “We must be wary” he said as he glanced back toward Francis, “there could be Morgan’s troops all around us” he warned. This hadn’t actually occurred to Francis, but then how else would Morgan have known where they were on the boat...or at the castle for that matter. He subconsciously looked around him, but only saw trees and grass running through his vision. Gawain moved through the trees and they left the beach area and moved out into the forest. Francis struggled to keep track of the Knight as he moved quickly and expertly through the forest, his green armour offering perfect cover against the bushes and the undergrowth and several times he lost track of the Knight, only for him to appear by his side time and time again.

“My Lord” Gawain said in hushed tones, his eyes darting around the area. “The castle of Tintagel is beyond that ridge” he said pointing. “It would be my guess that Tristan would have used the secret entrance to the castle on the west wing”

“Not so secret if they were caught” commented Francis wryly, but allowed himself to be led away by the Knight. “Gawain...2 said Francis as they moved through the forest

“My Lord...”

“What’s your story?2

“I do not understand”

“I mean...” he struggled to find the words without sounding harsh, “I know some of the others, but you’re a mystery”

“There is not much to tell my Lord” said Gawain

“Please...”

“Very well, but we must hurry. I wish to make it back from the castle before nightfall” he glanced toward the afternoon sky as he continued to move through the greenery. “I was born to King Lot and Queen Morgause and I would have been the rightful successor to the throne upon Arthur’s death had not it been for my friendship with Lancelot” his eyes flicked over the bushes as they moved while he continued to talk in hushed tones, “I draw my courage and strength from the light of day and I am by practice a mixer of herbs”

“So you’re a doctor of sorts” said Francis

“I have studied ailments, I will concede. But I know very little of medicine...only natural remedies”

“Herbal medicine” murmured Francis, “and you’re afraid of the dark” the statement almost slipped out and Francis blushed as Gawain skidded to a halt before him, turning slowly.

“Are not we all” stated the Knight, then abruptly turned and ran on. Francis stared after him for a moment, in shock that such a handsome muscular man such as he was could be afraid of the dark.

“Explains why he wants to be back before dark” he murmured to himself and forced his way through the undergrowth behind the Knight. He forced himself through the bushes, brambles catching his skin and drawing small traces of blood as the barbs bit at his arm and found himself staring over the castle from above. He stared at the rising turrets, and walls drawing in their magnificence, its stone walls jutting from the rock face of the landscape the monument of ancient Britain stood defiantly looking over the sea. Much of the castle lay in ruins, with most of the structure being lost to time, but elements of the castle remained intact, including several arches and walls. He could see doorways which would have led to exquisite banqueting halls rising from the floor and grass forced its way over the site and invaded the once glorious structure. Through the desolation, a singular structure remained, partially hidden from view by the landscape but unmistakably a hall of sorts. He could see the building rising from the ruins, its four walls almost desolate in construction but unmistakably the remnants of a hall. “Gawain!” he whispered as he realised he stood alone before the ruined site, “Gawain”

A hand grasped his arm and pulled him down to the floor and Francis looked around sharply at the Knight who was hidden amongst the brambles watching the castle from the safety of the bush. “Be silent!” he hissed through gritted teeth. “We are undetected...let us remain so”. Francis fell to the floor and lay on the grass, his face buried in the soft dirt and his body pressing against the warm ground. He raised his head to follow the glare of Gawain and could see figures in the distance swarming around the outskirts of the ruins. The armour shone in the sunlight and for the first time he realised how much he may have misjudged the whole situation.

“How many are there?” he asked

Gawain frowned as he peered through the bramble, “too many to count my Lord, we are much outnumbered” Francis didn’t like the sound of that, but continued to stare at the scene below. “Is it still thy intent to gain access” he asked.

Francis nodded, “I have to try” he said, trying to sound braver than he really was.

“Thoust is brave” stated Gawain, “we shall continue beside the mountain path, gaining advantage through the bramble” he indicated to the winding road which ran parallel to the castle, “then we drop down the cliff to the concealed entrance” Francis nodded and followed the Knight making sure the glint in his green armour was just in sight at all times until they reached the edge of the castle. Gawain pointed through the thorns at a small hole in the wall, “that is yon entrance” he said, “this is where Tristan and Bors would have entered”

Francis placed a hand on Gawain’s arm, “do you think I’m mad?” he asked the Knight.

“Nay, my Lord” he said smiling, “thoust is in love” he stifled a laugh and glanced around, “now go...quickly”

Francis nodded and moved quickly across the open ground to the passage and forced his way through the concealed entrance and into the dark confined space of the passage. He had no idea what was waiting for him at the other end and he could only wish and hope that Morgan would not expect an attack so soon after the first and in broad daylight at that. He could feel the confines of the passage press down against him as he pushed his way through the roots which gorged their way through the ground and wrapped around the crumbling brickwork and ran his hands over the damp cloisters of the ageing walls wondering how many had walked this way in the past. Judging by the conditions of the ageing passage it had remained hidden from view by the local authorities otherwise it would have been blocked by massive metal poles either end to stop the unwary tourist. His thoughts wandered to the safety of Gawain who was hidden in the undergrowth behind him, before they drifted rather foolishly to himself. He had no idea what was waiting for him at the other end and almost wished he could find Gwen standing their arms spread waiting for him.

He could see a small glimmer of light ahead of him and he felt the final few feet of the tunnel, pausing only to regain his footing as he stepped over the uneven ground. The end of the tunnel, like the rest of it was overgrown with vine, ivy and thorny bramble, but traces of cut creeper alerted him to the fact that Tristan had indeed travelled this way before him. He glanced back through the darkened tunnel and contemplated his retreat before finally pushing his way through the open chasm before him.

He stood in what were the remains of a corridor, and he cast his eyes across the crumbling stonework which laid around the floor around his feet. Vast boulders crushed weeds and flowers as the echelons of time had eroded the building and he ran his fingers along the remnants of the wall, imagining what the castle must have looked like centuries ago. He could imagine scores of men and woman walking up and down this hallway, coming and going from the daily routine much in the way he walked around his own home. He looked up into the sky and could see the sun poking through the remains of the building as though it were watching in progress in silent contemplation. The walls were old and covered in vegetation and travelled in both directions along the ruined site and Francis wondered which way he should travel. He glanced at the floor and could see the heavy indentations made by heavily armoured feet leading off from his position into the bowels of the site. He followed the trail until it led him to a small opening which led downward into darkness and he glanced around him before plunging head first into the thick black confined space.

He moved slowly and carefully down the crumbling stair, his hands pressing against the rough strewn walls and as his fingers brushed the surface of the brickwork traces of stone fell away from their moorings as it crumbled beneath his touch. He squinted through the darkness as the black swallowed him and placed one foot carefully before the other as each step took him lower beneath the ground and further away from safety. The condition of the passage led Francis to conclude that this was yet another area which had laid hidden from view for centuries and further down he ploughed into the bowels of the site. A light flickered beyond his vision and he could see shadows dance across the walls, contorting and dancing across the tunnel as the pitch black condition gave way to a slight glimmer of light. Could this be it? he wondered briefly to himself and continued heading forward toward the irradiant light.

Wall mounted torches heralded his arrival and the flame danced and licked at the air as he passed, cautiously peering through the gloom into the small area beyond the passage. It spanned out into the small rooms, two were just an open archway and Francis peered carefully into each, his eyes struggling to adjust to the darkness within each room. He cast his eyes upward as he peered into the rooms and from high above his head he could make out small vestiges of sunlight cast down from an open ceiling. The third room was covered by a newly fitted door, and Francis ran his hand over the wooden surface, tracing the lines of the grain within the wood and fingering the metal latches before running his hand over the sturdy metal handle. The large black iron ring fell from the latch and Francis took the handle in his handle, weighing the metal in his hand. He stood on his toes and peered through the small grating mounted high in the actual door and whispered through the grate, glancing back at the tunnel as he did...“Gwen!” he whispered urgently. He hoped his voice hadn’t carried, and he became aware that the passage was his only exit and suddenly wished he had brought Excalibur after all. “Gwen!” he whispered again...nothing. There was no sound from the room, and Francis turned sighing at his failure.

“Francis...” the voice was quiet and he almost missed it, “Francis” again the female voice came through the small grate.

“Gwen!” he whispered again through the grate and into the darkness.

“Francis...is that you?” came the voice again.

“Yes” he confirmed and pushed at the heavy door, “don’t worry” he whispered softly as he pressed his body weight against the heavy wooden structure and pushed. He sighed inwardly as the door shifted under his weight and thanked the lord that it hadn’t been locked. As the door moved under his weight, the thought suddenly struck him, that it wasn’t locked...in a dungeon that would be construed as slightly odd at the very least, but the sound of her sobs pushed the thought from his mind and forced him onward. The door struggled to obstruct its barrier as Francis slowly pushed it open and light spilled into the dark room. As beams of light fell through the small opening, Francis could see why the door hadn’t been barred. Gwen sat on a large bale of hay, her hands tied at her wrist with some form of twine and around her feet, a thick rope secured her to the nearby wall. He forced the door further open and she smiled as he spilled into the room and stood before her, glancing around the confined area urgently.

“Francis...” she said softly, through her clenched mouth. He looked at her face and could see sadness traced across her eyes and the evidence of tears has scarred her pretty features.

“Are you hurt?” he asked as he raced over to her and knelt on one knee, holding her hands in his and gazing into her eyes. She smiled and sniffed back her tears as she shook her head. “You’ll be okay now” he said softly as he pulled at the cords around her wrists. “I promise you...” he said as the twine fell to the floor, “that nothing will happen to you” he looked at her as she rubbed her wrists and smiled back at him. “I will always be here” he said as his fingers moved over the thick rope and traced one end of the rope to a large metal rind embedded in the wall. His fingers moved over the knot which bound her legs and it fell away easily from her ankle and onto the floor where it rested in the dirty puddles. He looked at her and smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face, “I promise...I will protect you, and I will always try to look after you”, he rested his hand against her cheek and she pressed her face deep into his touch, closing her eyes under his caress.

Gwen looked at him and could feel her eyes swell with emotion, her face breaking into a smile and her hands snaked around his body, drawing him close. She felt safe in his arms, she felt warm...it made what she needed to do so much harder. She smiled at him and looked deep into his eyes, pulling him close to her.

Francis could feel himself swell under her touch and the excitement of his position combined with the warmth of her body...he shook his head as she pulled him close. “We must go” he whispered, but under her touch his body refused to move as he became lost in her eyes. They shone in the light from the fire outside the cell and he sank in her beauty. Gwen sank deeper in his grip, her arms wrapped around his body and sinking toward his waist. She looked into his face and placed her lips firmly against his, locking their bodies tightly with each other. Francis reluctantly pulled away and looked into her eyes, a small sliver of saliva falling from their lips as they parted. “We should...” he indicated toward the door

“We should” she agreed, but her actions pulled him close again, their lips locked in passion and fury as the warmth of their bodies flowed and fought through each other. They pulled apart again and she took a deep heavy breath and rested the top of her head against his chin and looked down the expanse of his body. She returned her gaze to his eyes, and the passion forced their lips together again, excitement rising through the dampness of the dungeon. Her fingers snaked from his waist and she grasped at the belt around his jeans, her fingers working on the buckle and releasing the leather bound strap from the small metal clasp.

Francis looked down at her hands and shook his head as it rested against hers as she watched her own movements, “we shouldn’t” he whispered, “not here...” his breath was hot against her face as he whispered in her ear.

“Quick” she teased and placed her lips hard against his again, while her hands fumbled across the front of his trousers, forcing the zip down and then moving inside his trousers gripping at his rising body.

“Gwen...”

“I’m horny...” she whispered, an excitement smirk crossing her face as she pulled him from his underwear and out into the open. She gripped at his growing bulge and gently moved her hand along his groin, stroking and teasing him with the softness of her touch. He closed his eyes and the excitement in his growing genitals rose through his body and he found his hand snaking beneath her top, reaching for her soft fleshy breast beneath her bra.

“We don’t have time” he insisted as she continued to rub.

“Just make it quick” she whispered as her hand continued to move along his genitals. He placed his head on her shoulder, closed his eyes and moved his hands down by her side slowly running his hands beneath her jodhpurs and pushing them slightly down her thighs. He looked at her and she forced a smile as she pulled him close to her again locking in a deep kiss as their bodies embraced in lust and wanting. She closed her eyes and groaned slightly under his touch as she felt him slowly move inside her and his hands moved under her buttocks lifting her slightly onto the bale of hay, their bodied rocking in time with each other. She pushed him away from her mouth as he moved faster between her legs, and she pulled her thighs around his hips and the thrust of his body intensified, moving quicker in time to the rhythm of their passion.

“Ah! the passion of youth!” laughed a female voice from the doorway, “you see Mordred” chided Morgan, “that is how you do it” Morgan laughed and entered the room moving quickly across to the young couple and placed her hands on his naked buttocks and leant forward whispering in his ear, “so full of energy” she laughed as Francis struggled to pull at his trousers. “Don’t stop on my account” laughed Morgan barely able to contain her joy at the sight of the couple’s love. “It has been so long since I tasted the youthful passion. So keen and eager, as I remember, so full of inexperience and so eager to please” she laughed and squeezed his buttocks, smiling at Gwen over his shoulder. She released her grip and allowed Francis to pull his trousers back up over his naked form. “When thy youth is decent Mordred, see he is brought to me” she turned and laughed as she past Mordred, standing smirking in the doorway.

Mordred stared at the couple and smirked, “you have done well” he said toward Gwen as he watched her pull her jodhpurs up over her waist.

“Gwen?” said Francis softly, reaching out a hand to her.

“Don’t” she warned and covered her eyes with her arm and sped past Mordred into the corridor beyond the door.

“Gwen!”