Lancelot and the Wolf Read online

  “You know this place inside?” I nodded at the tavern.

  “Yes, Sir,” came a soft reply.

  “My room is the one above the cart, go and find everything. The girl is not to be disturbed, the coin on the floor and in the bed,” I thought about it for a moment. “Find as much as you can but leave a fair share for her. Then meet me at the horse market. If you aren’t there by the time the town gates are open I’m leaving alone and you can shift for yourself. Understand?” I had no idea what the hell I thought I was doing. The last thing I needed was another problem in my life.

  I turned to move the bodies and I heard a sharp intake of breath. I’d forgotten about my shirt, again. “Get a fucking move on,” I snapped.

  The boy glanced at my face and ran to the tavern. He’d know how to enter the place quickly and quietly. I reached down, grabbed the ankles of one of the stinking rapist bastards and hauled him into an empty stable. His friend followed. I pulled a coat off one of the bodies, shook out the lice and hoped my wounds were still closed. I didn’t feel blood whispering down my skin so I assumed I wouldn’t pick up an infection. My arms were too long for the coat, but it would do for the few minutes I needed to reach the horse market. With the streets still quiet in the pre dawn light, I ran to the edge of the town, just inside the walls.

  A small wooden house sat surrounded by horse pens and everything associated with horses. I banged on the door, “Dillon, you old horse thief, wake up,” I yelled as loudly as I dared. Muttered curses, several loud crashes later and the door opened.

  “What the bloody hell,” came the angry voice from an angry face.

  “Dillon, I need Ash and I need a good safe gelding,” I said point blank. “Oh and it’s great to see you.”

  “Lancelot?” he rubbed sleep from his one good eye and stared up at me. He smiled, the mouth full of gold. I wondered how many of those teeth I paid for over the years. “What do you want that beast for now? It’s still dark.”

  “It’s not dark, you just drank too much,” I told him, encouraging him out of his small house and into the yard. I knew how he felt.

  “Ha,” he said, “And I thought for sure you’d died this time and I’d get to sell that monster of yours.”

  “I gave you gold for at least a year of keep and it’s only been ten months, don’t exaggerate,” I said.

  Dillon the horse trader grinned, “You certain it was a year’s keep? You are in an awful hurry for a year’s keep.” He eyed my clothing.

  I groaned, “Fine, but the gelding better be good.”

  Dillon, his beady eyes shining with a new deal, stomped off on his short fat legs to find a stable boy to help with Ash. I followed him, if I left Dillon’s boy to attend the horse alone I’d be waiting another hour at least. No one should have to deal with Ash but me, so the least I could do was try to saddle the brute.

  Just as we reached a stable yard, I heard a scrabbling behind me. I turned with my hand already on my sword hilt. The boy from the tavern appeared with my things.

  “Here, Sir,” he panted. My saddlebags and bedroll were all in perfect order, with my shirt, doublet, cloak and a bag I didn’t recognise slung over the boy’s shoulder.

  I blinked in surprise, “That was quick.”

  “I am, Sir.”

  “Can you manage a warhorse?” I asked.

  “Yes, Sir,” came a confident reply, just as a yell issued from the stable and I heard Ash’s trademark neigh, or snarl, if horses did snarl.

  “Find that horse and saddle him,” I said, taking my belongings from the boy. His right eye had almost swollen shut but he ran for the stables.

  In no short order I’d bought a fine looking chestnut gelding with saddle and bridle all in. I’d also bought equipment for the road, such as cooking pots and something to put in them. The boy appeared with Ash, my horse, whom I left with Dillon every time I travelled to England for a short time. This trip had meant to be short but my arrest kept me occupied for quite a while. I hated forcing the crossing on my equestrian companion. It seemed however, that I now travelled with a boy dedicated to the dark arts of horse management. My foul tempered stallion followed the lad meek as a lamb. Dillon stared in shock, as did his stable hand.

  I handed the reins of the gelding to my boy and said, “This is, Mercury.”

  My stallion gnashed his bit in protest at the company. Ash had belonged to me for five years. I’d won him in a card game and wondered why his owner didn’t seem to mind. The colour of wood ash, with a black mane and tail, he hated everyone. I kept him because he’d given up hating me most of the time and he was the finest damn horse I’d ever ridden. He had my back in a fight and knew exactly how I would move into an enemy when we faced one together. We didn’t love each other but respect goes a long way in my game.

  I took my own reins and mounted before the damned stallion nipped my backside. He danced in circles and pulled on the bit. “He’s grown fat,” I said to Dillon.

  “He’s the devil’s own horse, that one,” said the trader, watching the boy mount. The town gates opened. I waved a farewell to Dillon and rode calmly out of le Havre.

  CHAPTER THREE

  We hit the open road and I allowed Ash his head. We raced into the morning, the smaller lighter Mercury keeping pace well. The boy did know his horses, he rode strongly. After a league, we reined back the horses, they were sweating hard and my hangover had finally faded. I turned to my companion.

  “So, having risked my neck to save your arse, what’s your name boy?” I asked.

  “Else, Sir,” came the quiet reply.

  “Unusual, but alright, it’s your name and call me, Lancelot. I am not a, sir, not anymore,” I said. Ash shifted under me sensing my sudden tension tighten his reins. I relaxed.

  “Thank you, Lancelot,” Else said. My name sounded strange on the boy’s tongue and I glanced at him. I realised someone had done a hatchet job on his hair and his hands were narrow, his wrists small. He looked almost delicate. Beautiful with those long lashes over soft brown eyes. He had full lips under the swelling and slim hips.

  I raised an eyebrow, “I can see why you had trouble with those men.”

  He glanced at me and I saw the fear instantly flash through his face. I spoke quickly, “No, don’t worry, Else, it’s not my style.” A memory surfaced from my past and I squashed it flat. Thinking about Arthur never helped. “But with a face like that you will need to learn to fight.”

  “I can fight,” his light voice trembled slightly.

  “Then you will learn to fight better,” I said as kindly as I could.

  We rode in silence for a long time before I grew bored with the sound of the horse’s steps. “How long had you been at the tavern?” I asked.

  “Three months, Sir,” he paused, “Lancelot.”

  “You are good with Ash,” I said.

  “He just needs someone to love,” Else said fondly and reached out to pat the warhorse’s neck.

  Love and Ash were not two words I’d use in the same sentence, but still. “Can you clean armour?”

  The boy glanced at me quickly, eye contact did not happen easily. “Yes, I know a squire’s duty.”

  I nodded an idea shaping in my head. A daft one, because even in the best of times I live hand to mouth and this would not be the best of times, but I’d had enough of my own company. Maybe a squire would help me have a plan like the good Sister wished.

  “Well, I’m not worth much and my reputation as a man is dirt, but I’m a fine fighter and we might just make some money if you want to join me on that basis then you may,” I said.

  “Can I ask what happened to you?”

  “No,” I said firmly.

  “Those men,” his voice grew even softer.

  “Don’t think about it, Else. These things are best forgotten as quickly as you can manage,” I said.

  “So, we never talk about either thing?”

  “Never,” I said.

  “Deal,” Else replied and I had myself
a squire.

  I pushed us on during the day, going for distance but alternating between walking and cantering, both easier on the horses and us. We’d covered many leagues and I hoped we’d gone far enough not to be worth finding for murder. There were times when I wished I learnt to think before acting but looking at Else’s face as he rode beside me made me glad for my intervention. I’d seen too many innocents hurt to bear it happening when I knew I could prevent it.

  I found my favoured spot in which to camp, somewhere off the main road, near a river inside a small wood. Hidden shelter. When we stopped for the night I realised I’d taken on far more than I’d anticipated. Else proved to be scarily efficient. I went to find some dry wood, when I returned I found the camp ruthlessly organised and the horses happily tethered and eating. Else took the wood from me and before I’d settled he began cooking. He smiled as I stared around me at the bedrolls and my armour lain out.

  “I’ll clean it before the rust sets in,” Else said pointing to my hauberk and plate armour.

  “Good,” I said. I’d never kept my own squire, never needed one and could rarely afford the luxury. I couldn’t afford this one and as I was no longer a knight of the English court I didn’t think I should have one, but I was lonely. I’d been lonely for a long time.

  We ate in silence, I went to the river to wash before bed and watched Else slip away silently to perform similar rituals. He seemed to be a very private lad. Quiet but self assured. The main bonus his ability to make food out of scraps and control my damned horse. This made him worth his weight in gold, I just hoped he’d decide to stay when he realised I would never be able to make him any more than a servant. I lay back and stared at the night sky, trying hard not to think. After the activities of the night before, I grew tired and thankfully slept quickly.

  The dream felt more real than any waking moment I’d known, on or off the battlefield.

  A white hart and doe raced through a mist covered forest. The sense of panic overwhelmed any sense of reality. We raced together and then I realised I raced with the wolves, or wolf. Yes, just one wolf, dark and silently running with the hart, side by side, racing for our lives. I didn’t know what kind of predator ran behind us, but whatever it was we had to run. As fast as we were, I knew it grew closer. I urged the deer on but they were unable to increase their speed. So, I stopped and turned to face my enemy in the shrouded forest. I bared my fangs and growled, waiting. Fear washed through the wood, fear and horror. Whatever approached would kill me, no doubt remained, but I must try, I must try for the white hart’s sake.

  “Lancelot, please, wake up,” small hands shook my shoulders.

  My eyes opened, my hands lunged for my enemy and dragged them over my body. I reached for my knife under my bedroll.

  “Oh, shit, no,” Else screamed and I finally woke completely.

  “Else?” Dawn, the sky in the east a little lighter than the moonless rest. I dropped the boy instantly.

  “You were dreaming. You woke me,” he scrambled upright. “Sorry, but it sounded bad.”

  I took a few deep breaths to calm my nerves. “We need to move, break the camp.” I felt grim, worried about some unnameable threat I didn’t understand. I’d been dreaming heavily ever since my punishment. When I’d been pressed hard against the flogging post I had seen in my mind’s eye the image of a wolf. A wolf I’d known as a boy.

  “Do we have time for breakfast?” came the small voice.

  “No, we move now,” I rose, still in shirttails for warmth and pulled on my leather hose, then my boots. Else began moving efficiently around the camp and in no time had it packed. I made certain I covered our tracks as well as possible, breaking up the fire and spreading it to make it appear old. Else tacked the horses but found lifting my bedroll with my armour wrapped inside, impossible. He was too short and clearly not strong enough.

  “Here, let me help,” I stood behind him and took the bundle out of his arms. “You need to grow squirt.”

  He turned under me and I looked down. Beautiful brown eyes stared upward and he smiled, “Maybe you should buy a smaller horse, or a donkey?” he suggested.

  “Or maybe I should get a taller squire,” I admonished, smiling. I felt my cock respond to the boy’s scent. Warm and slightly spicy. The sensation confused me a great deal. “Get the rest of the things loaded on Mercury,” I said as I pushed him well out of my personal space.

  He moved away, seemingly unaware of his effect on me. I muttered to the horse as I tightened various straps, “What the bloody hell is going on with me? Am I mad? Is that it? I don’t fuck young boys, this is madness.”

  A memory of my own time as a squire surfaced. Lying next to a tangled blond mop, a firm strong body in my arms. And I in his.

  I growled, forcing the reminiscence away. “I don’t do this,” I told myself firmly. “He needs help not more bloody problems.” I promised myself another night in a tavern with a good whore as soon as possible.

  The day started cool and dewy but soon turned into a blue sky, fresh breeze day. The kind of day that lightens the soul and makes the birds boisterous. I began to relax the effects of the dream leaving me.

  “So, were you planning on staying in that town?” I asked my silent companion.

  He glanced up at me, “No, I was just passing through really but needed money, so stayed a while.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “Here and there,” came the wonderfully evasive reply.

  “Okay, Else, what shall we talk about?” I asked.

  He considered for a moment, “How about the duties of a squire and where we are going?”

  “Where we are going is easy, anywhere we won’t get hanged for killing the Sheriff’s deputy.”

  Else grunted at that, but we continued to talk. He proved to have a quick mind. He already knew much of what I’d be expecting from him. He told me he’d picked it up from listening to people in the tavern. I doubted that somehow but didn’t press the issue. As most men do, we soon began talking wars and tactics.

  “Phoen, what?” I asked at one point.

  “Phoenicians,” Else said clearly. “They fought the Greeks.”

  “Well, your education is a great deal better than mine,” I said surprised.

  “I just listen a lot,” he mumbled. I declined to comment. We were both allowed our secrets.

  My stomach protested loudly, “Time for lunch and your first lesson in looking after yourself more efficiently.”

  We stopped, we ate, we sparred, we rode. That night we stayed in a small village with a simple inn. We shared the only room and I slept heavily.

  A week passed like this with no sign of us being chased. I allowed us to ramble about and chose not to push our pace. The weather remained kind and I enjoyed Else’s company. He made me laugh and the safer he felt the more he talked. There were times I’d catch him wool gathering and his face would soften, his eyes almost amber in the light. I wondered what he thought about before he slept or who kept him warm in his dreams. My dreams were quiet for the most part. A few I wouldn’t willingly admit to myself but mostly my life felt calm and I began to heal for good.

  The eight morning things grew dark and my world once more changed on the throw of the dice, which belonged to the Fates.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “This looks like a good place to spend the evening,” I said cheerfully. The Sword and Shield appeared to be the kind of place in which I could be happily drunk for days.

  “I don’t see why we have to stop in this place at all,” Else said. He’d been grumpy since we rode into the large town.

  “Oh, just cheer up. We can restock, I can win a few rounds of cards, we can drink ourselves silly and sleep with a few whores. Really, Else, you need to relax.” I clapped him on the shoulder and we walked into the tavern. I paused on the top step and inhaled noisily, “That is a good stink,” I announced.

  The smell in question consisted of male sweat, cheap perfume and ale. We walked to the bar and I
ordered two tankards and two rooms.

  “We can’t pay for it,” Else hissed, eyeing the barman as he poured from the barrel.

  “We can when I win,” I told him. The large heavyset barman plonked two ales with dark foamy tops beside us. I drank quickly and finished my ale just as an over painted but pretty young woman appeared at my elbow.

  “Buy me a drink,” she cooed, her hand instantly straying to my crotch. She smelt as if she’d already had her share. Else’s eyes narrowed.

  “Leave him be,” he snapped. “My Lord doesn’t need the likes of you.”

  I blinked as the girl said, “Seems your pretty boy here don’t like to share you, my Lord.” She began to vanish from my side. I grabbed her arms.

  “Just hold on there, girl and I’ll get you that drink. My young friend is just out of his depth and it’s making him rude,” I said while making significant eye contact with Else. “Now if he drinks his ale we won’t say another word and you and I can have some fun.” I laughed as she whispered in my ear a suggestion even I’d struggle to find redeemable.

  “I’m going to see to the horses,” Else said leaving his ale and walking out before I could stop him.

  My new best friend and I continued to drink. I found myself winning at cards and my usual routine and habits carried the night forward. I saw nothing of Else. I found my things safely stowed in my room. The whore proved as inventive as she promised and I had a good night.

  The white hind lay exhausted, the hart stood over her, trembling on equally exhausted legs. The wolf, me, stood before them. Blood dripped from many wounds and the mists turned the same dark colour. I heard a sound and my black muzzle picked up a scent. The scent of death and damnation. Unknowable evil. The hart stirred behind me, walking forward on his long legs. His great antlers lowered as he prepared to defend the hind alongside me. The evil came then, all pain and anguish to fill our hearts with fear and shrivel our souls in dread.