Out of Time

Chapter 36

Lancelot collected Danielle's sword.

"What do you think Arthur's doing right now? Do you think he's okay?"

Lancelot shrugged. "He and the men should have arrived at their destination by now." What more could he say? He'd never been in a battle himself. It was rare for one so old, but he'd lived in relatively safe times, and Arthur only every brought his more experiences soldiers into battles with him, believing that to bring the younger, less prepared soldiers was a waste of resources.

He knew that they could be in battle at that very minute, but he didn't think that was what she wanted to hear. He suspected she wanted reassurances that they were well, that nothing would happen to them, but he couldn't promise that. A man's time came when the gods deemed in necessary, and no force could combat that, not even the powerful Merlin.

He decided to simply tell her the truth. "I've never been to battle myself, so I can't say I know what is happening right now."

She sagged as they walked back to the keep.

He could kick himself for not even bothering to try to reassure her. "If anyone can return to you safely, it is your husband. He's an impressive warrior in his own right, and he trains only the best, expects the best, and they would never allow their king to die in battle." Again, he told only the truth.

He remembered when he'd first arrived in Camelot. Only a boy, he'd been awed by the magnificence of the enormous castle, a formidable structure he felt certain could never fall, could stand up to anything. But when he'd first seen the king training, fighting against one of his men, he'd thought certainly the man must be some supernatural creature, as no human could move with the power, speed, and agility he'd witnessed. He'd decided then and there that he would do whatever it took to become one of Arthur's nights.

At the time, he'd only been a boy of seven winters, only just starting his squiring, but he'd known from that moment on that his destiny lay in Camelot.

"Thank you," she said. "You could have given me false hope, but you didn't, and for that I thank you. That means more to me than any false, empty words you could have spoken."

He nodded. "Come. Let's fill our empty bellies. We've earned it."

#

Arthur smiled when the wooden fortress came into view. Low stone walls surrounded the main building, with small edifices dotted around it. Though nothing in comparison to the grandeur of Camelot, it certainly served its purposes.

As they approached, small outlying farms passed by on either side. Some folk waved and smiled, while others froze like a deer sensing a predator. He supposed an army marching into one's midst could be terrifying if they didn't know their intentions.

And Arthur's army could be called nothing short of impressive. Arthur led the way in gleaming armor and on a horse large enough to dwarf most horses. Behind him, his knights sat on their own steeds, confident, with their own armor shining in the late afternoon sun. After that, the rest of the soldiers walked behind them, an impressive number that almost disappeared into the horizon they were so many.

Before long, he waited outside the gates of the fortress, waiting for them to rise.

"Speak," a voice said from the outer wall.

"I am King Arthur of Camelot. We come in aid."

A head peeked over the wall, giving Arthur an appraising look before nodding, and disappearing again. Moments later, the gates started to open, and he urged his horse forward again.

"Arthur!" a bluff voice said, ringing out across the space.

Arthur turned to see Lord Bertram eating up the space between them with long, powerful strides. The man had always been a beast. Tall and strong, he intimidated most men. Except for Arthur. Arthur saw the advantage to such an ally.

"Hello, my friend. It is good to see you, albeit under less than ideal circumstances."

Bertram reached Arthur's side, and shook his hand when Arthur jumped from his mount. "It's good to see you as well. Thank you for coming so quickly."

"I could do no other."

He nodded, leading Arthur to the main fortress. "Still, it is appreciated. I do my best to protect my people, but when I received word that an attack was on the horizon, I had to ask."

They walked into the Great Hall side by side. Smaller than his own Great Hall back at Camelot, the space still encompassed the entirety of the building. A curtain hid the Lord and Lady's chamber off to the left, and broken down trestle tables and benches lined the far wall. They had the room entirely to themselves at that time of day.

Bertram ushered him to sit at the high table—the only table in the room not dismantled, and the only place where proper chairs existed. The room felt barren, lifeless, but oddly expectant, as if it knew that in a few short hours it would be bustling with activity.

"Not much has changed here," Arthur said as he sat down.

Bertram nodded. "I don't have your ambition. This is a good life here."

"But no wife?"

He laughed. "No, no wife, though I hear you've settled down. Was it with Lady Guinevere? I know you and King Leodegrance are fairly close."

Arthur shook his head. "No, her name is Danielle. She's..." How could he describe her? His chest filled with emotion just speaking her name, not the least of which was longing.

Bertram sat down beside him. "Could it be you've found a love match?"

Arthur jerked his head upward. "What? No. She's quite capable, and I value her input. She has a very clever mind for a woman."

Bertram nodded. "Well, I would personally love to have a love match. I know, it's not in the slightest bit manly to say something like that. My father grew to love his wife, and growing up with that, it's not hard to envy and wish for that as well."

Arthur nodded. He supposed his childhood had not exposed him to any sort of love, except for perhaps his relationship with Merlin, which was complicated. He'd never seen romantic love like Lord Bertram talked about, had no concept of it. Wouldn't know what to do with it if he had it. "How did we get onto this topic? We have a battle to plan?"

#

When the missive came by way of his brother, Gawain, Mordred was having his way with a comely little serving wench who'd put up just the right amount of fight to excite him. Gawain had frowned at him, but kept his own counsel, unlike Morgan, who didn't seem to have any limit to her nagging.

He slapped the girl on the ass, causing her to squeak, pulled up his braes, and snatched the message from the other man's hands. His brother stayed for another few moments, shaking his head, before turning on his heel and disappearing out the door. Silent, judgmental bastard.

Mordred shook his head, never really being surprised by Morgan's power and ingenuity. She'd bespelled a piece of cloth. When it touched his fingertips, the words appeared, dictating her plan. One corner of his mouth curved upward, enjoying more and more this plan the more he read.

He belted out a command to the open air, then prepared to leave. He had some visiting to do.