La Damoiselle Arthur 14 (Patreon)

Chapter 14

“So, the rumors are true,” Colban said, now looking more closely at the young woman sitting before him.

“Rumors? So quickly?” Lancelot said.

“We are druids and close to nature. Do you not think the crows gossip?” Colban tilted his head to the side as his eyes played across Arthur’s face. “What is it like?” He asked. “To be a man, a king, trapped behind such a lovely face?”

“You are impudent--” Lancelot started, but Arthur shushed him.

“I did not come here to discuss my face,” Arthur said, “but to seek your aid in finding a unicorn.”

“A unicorn? I will not aid you in your hunt--”

“I am not hunting it,” Arthur said. “I mean it no harm.”

“Then what purpose do you have?”

Arthur swallowed. “I must tame it.”

Colban starred, facc blank. “Tame it?”

“It is a quest I have been given by Ceridwen if I would once more be a man.”

Colban seemed to think of this, brow furrowed. And then he unleashed a full bellied laugh that shook the timbers of the old tavern.

Lancelot clenched his fist and begged Arthur with his eyes-- let me smash some respect into this pagan fool, but Arthur shook his head. As much as part of him would have enjoyed the sight of Lancelot teaching this rude peasant a lesson, Arthur did not feel that was the way a maiden pure would handle such a situation.

When Colban stopped laughing Arthur further straightened his back, though he had not been slouching. “You earlier made mansion of the manners of the south,” Arthur said, steel in his small voice. “But it seems to me it is the men of the North who lack manners and dignity.”

The smile left Colban’s face. He looked for a moment like he might get into a war of words with Arthur, but the darkness passed, and when he spoke once more his tone was conciliatory. “I did not mean offense, and my laughter was not directed at you so much, but rather just a recognition of the cleverness of the goddess Ceardwin. I mean, you must appreciate the humor, right? That you must play the maiden should you hope to be a man?”

“I am living the irony,” Arthur said, nodding, easing the tension in his own voice. “But it does not strike me as funny right now.”

“Well, it is said that time makes mirth of our sorrows.

“Indeed?” Arthur said. “That is a good saying. I will remember it.”

There was a pause.  They both felt they had come around to the point of the business. “Well,” Arthur said, “will you help me?”

“I’ll tell you where to find a unicorn,” Colban said. “You will locate one in Golden Hollow. I’ll draw you a map. I should probably give it to Lancelot, though, as women are not good with directions.”

“You should come to court some day and regale us with your boundless hilarity,” Arthur said. “You are ever so amusing.”

“So they say,” Colban said, laughing. “Well, let me draw up that map for you.”

“Wait,” Lancelot said, unable to restrain himself any further. “Just like that? You don’t ask for anything in return, but merely agree to help?”

“Lancelot?” Arthur said.

“The quest was given by our goddess,” Colban said, annoyed. “So, yes, just like that I will do what is clearly the will of Caerdwyn.”

Lancelot sat back. “Very well.”

Colban grabbed a scrap of wood from among the rubble left over from the fight and began to carve a crude map.  His hands moved quickly, with impressive dexterity, and he was clearly skilled at carving. When he finished, he pushed it to Arthur. “You know, since Lanceypants mentioned it, there is one little favor you could do me.”

“Of course,” Arthur said. “I am most grateful for your aid.”

“Well,” Colban said. “How about you pull that shirt open and let me get a quick look at your maidenly breast?”

“Rude!” Arthur said, blushing and reflexively pulling his shirt tightly closed.

“That’s enough,” Lancelot said, standing, and this time Arthur did not stop him.

Back in his room, a flustered Arthur dressed, trying hard not to think about his maidenly shape and the-- uncouth-- man who had embarrassed him. He’d felt very good about how he’d handled the whole meeting, demanding respect, and feeling that he and Colban had reached some sort of mutual understanding, and then-- that!

He had to remind me that I am a woman now, Arthur steamed. He had to put me in my place-- or try to! It made Arthur feel more confident to adorn himself in his male clothes-- britches, shirt and waist coat. The smell of sweat and stead that had offended him the night before he now embraced. Men should stink, he thought to himself. We smell of blood and grime and we love it!

Pulling on his tiny boots, which perfectly fit his dainty feet, he saw they were scuffed and dirty. Good! He thought.  Back in Camelot all was polish and refinement.  When was the last time he had gone hunting? He could scarcely recall. The nation had been at peace. There had been no wars. So, what had Arthur, King been doing? Hosting parties for visiting lords and ladies.

What had Colban said? That he must play the maiden to become the man? Well, perhaps playing the maiden would help him become more the man he once had been! He would spend less time, he resolved, when this was over, worrying about how his boots gleamed and more time wrestling in the mud!

Once dressed, Arthur met Lancelot outside where they had tied up their horses. The village folk were up and about. As Arthur emerged he saw them huddling, whispering, glancing over at him. The maidenly blush which had become his nature crept once more to his cheeks, turning them pink with shame. No doubt, word had spread through the village that this stranger was a lass, was a girl, and was also the famed King Arthur of Camelot.

“You ready?” Lancelot said, reaching for Arthur’s elbow, meaning to help him mount his horse.

“I can do it,” Arthur hissed, knowing all were watching, annoyed that Lancelot would make him seem like any silly girl who couldn’t even mount a horse without a man’s help.

Mounted, the two trotted out of town, taking the road north toward Golden Hollow. Arthur rode upright, his head high and proud, only wincing inside when he heard one of the local women say, “he is a pretty little thing, isn’t he?”

Arthur did not respond. He would handle all such matters with the grace and dignity befitting a man-- or woman-- of his station.

Once they were clear of Pittenween, riding along the narrow trail that wound out of town and up into the jagged hills, Arthur felt himself relax. Just as before, when not around people, riding in the country, he largely felt himself, despite his new bodies tendency to-- jiggle. Yet, even that passed from his awareness as they rode, and he felt once more simply Arthur, the man he’d always been.