La Damoiselle Arthur 16 (Patreon)

Chapter 16

In which Lancelot’s will doth fail.

We return to the scene of Lancelot, hiding behind a bush of holly, as Arthur prepared to disrobe and bathe himself in the steaming waters of the spring. Lancelot, we will remember, had suggested to Arthur he intended to perform his evening prayers in order to occupy his mind.  If only he had, perhaps the good Lord would have given Lancelot the strength he needed to control his curiosity. Lancelot, instead, had chosen to rely on willpower, and when has a man’s willpower ever won out over the heat in his loins?

“I’ll hate myself for this,” Lancelot mumbled as he turned and positioned himself to get a glimpse of this fairest of the fair maidens. Arthur, his back turned to Lancelot’s position, approached the edge of the spring. He hesitated, then pulled up one pant leg, revealing his dainty ankle, rounded calf, and then he stretched out his long leg, just dipping his toe into the green, luminescent waters.  The glimpse of ankle was alone enough to make Lancelot tremble, and Arthur now began to unbutton his shirt. “Turn away,” Lancelot mumbled to himself.”Turn away.”

Arthur opened his shirt and slipped it off his small, round shoulders, letting it drift to the ground at his feet. Lancelot could now see the length of Arthur’s back– the pretty little shoulder blades, the curve of his ribcage tapering to his tiny waist, his skin quickly taking on a soft pink color in the silvery light of the rising moon.

Chilled, Arthur shivered slightly, and Lancelot could only imagine the pleasing tremors that sent through his body, and then with urgency he began to undo his trousers, wiggling his hips side to side as he pulled them down, revealing that perfect body. With one arm clearly across his chest, one out to the side, Arthur stepped into the spring, the steam swirling around him, his movements cautious and dainty as any maiden.

He looked back.

A sudden move, like a doe sensing danger. It was so like the last time, only now Lancelot did not have to imagine that angelic shape!

Lancelot ducked, terrified Arthur should realize his best friend was breaking his word and not just looking, but staring. He crouched down behind the holly. That’s it. I will not look again! He insisted to himself.

But, alas, Lancelot had no choice. He simply had to see! This time, hoping to be more discreet, he stayed low, pushing aside the branches of the bush, creating a gap through which he could enjoy the view of this most beautiful of all women. The sun had plunged behind a towering mountain peak, it’s rays blazing upward like a great fire.

Arthur could now be seen only in silhouette- he’d turned to the side. Lancelot saw the maiden silhouette, and then Arthur dipped his head into the waters, then flung it back, lifting his arms, running his hands over his short hair, thrusting his chest forward, his hips back.

Lancelot bit his lip and trembled with desire! He had no choice now. He felt himself losing control, and he turned and fell to his knees, and he began to pray fervently for the strength to control his desires for the maiden Arthur.

It seemed to be working. He felt his lust lessening, his resolve strengthening.

Then, he heard Arthur call out in a softer, higher voice: “Lancelot?”

There was need in that voice, and Lancelot felt elation– and doom. Oh, God, he thought, Arthur is giving in to his maidenly needs! He calls for me! But, no! I must be strong.

“Lancelot?” Arthur called again, his soft voice more urgent. “I need you.”

“No!” Lancelot shouted. “We cannot consummate our love!”

“Lancelot!” Arthur screamed. “I need you now!”

Wait, Lancelot realized. Those do not sound like the calls of a passionate maiden. They sound like—? He stood. Arthur was in the middle of the pool, water up to his shoulders. Around the pool, Lancelot saw the stalking shapes of “Barghest!” He yelled, leaping over the bush, rushing to grab his sword.

The dire black wolves, who’d been so eagerly looking forward to a quick bite of what appeared a helpless girl, now growled, circling around Lancelot. Even in the darkness, he could see them bar their haggard and bloodstained fangs.

Lancelot brandished his sword. “Run!” He shouted to Arthur.”Run! I will hold them off.”

The barghest hunted in packs and worked together with an almost supernatural precision. They circled their prey and baited them with lunches and snarls, all the while working to get a clean shot at their back. They could sense Lancelot was a strong one, and they circled and baited, circled and baited, knowing he would eventually tire, make a mistake, and they would pounce.

“Lancelot!” Arthur cried out, but no longer for help. Now, he feared for the life of his friend. The barghest had forgotten about him, so he began to make his way toward the edge of the pool, where he’d dropped his gear. He had one arm across his breasts, and he used his other hand to hide his maidenhead as the rose from the waters. As much as he may have looked a bashful maiden, he was more a shamed man. Yet, his friend in peril, he stood, dripping, trying to figure out what to do.

Finally, he grabbed his shirt and coat, and held them against his body, then, grabbing one of his short swords, he sent it spinning through the air at a barghest that had just leapt toward Lancelot’s shoulder. The blade hit and hacked deep, the wolf-beast whining and mewling, rolling across the snow, leaving a trail of blood.

Fool girl, Lancelot thought. Why won’t she let me protect her? Yet, he saw Arthur grab his second short sword and begin to move, counter to the barghest’ circling. Lancelot, intuitively knew what Arthur was doing, and he began to circle with them.

Confusion now reigned among the barghest  as they found themselves circled. Lancelot took advantage as one of the wolves had fixed on Arthur, leaping forth to deliver a spine crushing blow to its back, the wolf immediately collapsing, paralyzed. Lancelot attempted to leap back, out of reach of any attack, but instantly saw a wolf rise up out of the darkness, leaping at his face. He raised an arm, and the wolf latched on, its great maw piercing the hard steel of his armor and cutting into his flesh.

“Lance!” Arthur cried out, but he had his own problems as two of the wolves now hectored him, coming at him from either side. Arthur, no longer concerned about hiding his body, waved his shirt and coat like a bullfighter, and one of the wolves leapt for them, shredding them with his claws, while the other lunged, only to find himself impaled on Arthur’s sword.

Lancelot, meanwhile, finding a wolf attached to his arm, began to swing it about like a great club, bashing away the barghest, keeping them at bay. He could feel warm blood flowing down his arm.

Arthur, freeing his blade from the skull of the wolf he killed, now took up position with Lancelot, the two of them back to back, blades flashing in the moonlight.

The biggest of the barghest growled and growled again. The barghest began to back away. What had looked like an easy meal had turned into something much less appetizing. With a final growl of command, they turned and ran off into the darkness.

The wolf on Lancelot’s arm still lived, thrashing and struggling to free itself. Lancelot sank to one knee, exhausted, meaning to kill it, trying to find an angle with his longsword. Then, Arthur appeared, plunging his sword into the wolf’s skull.

“Are you okay?” He said, voice full of feminine concern.

“I am—” Lancelot’s eyes fell to Arthur soft’s shoulders. The tattered rags he held in front of himself could not fully cover the soft roundness of his chest and in spite of himself Lancelot’s eyes fell there.

Arthur stepped back. “Lancelot!” He said, scandalized, ashamed.

“Please dress,” Lancelot said, his voice gruff. “I will dislodge my new friend.”

“Yes,” Arthur said, sensing once more that as long as he was a woman, things between them would always be– awkward. He backed away, not wanting to give Lancelot a glimpse of his back, and he went to gather his clothes.

Lancelot began to pry at the wolf’s jaws, straining until they popped free, and then he kicked the foul beast away from him. Arthur, meanwhile, pulled on his trousers, then his tattered shirt and coat. He could feel cool air against his body, and the tears now left glimpses of his maidenly shape visible. Cursing, he once more put an arm demurely across his chest and returned to his wounded friend.

Lancelot had pulled off the armor from his arm. The wounds didn’t look too deep, but they bled freely. Arthur knelt next to Lancelot. “For the love of God. We must clean the wound and staunch the bleeding,” he said.

“I’ll just bandage it,” Lancelot said, the presence of Arthur now doubly disturbing. “The wounds are not deep.”

“The barghest are filthy and unclean,” Arthur said. “ The wound will grow infected. I have some tonics in my bag. Just sit still. I will be right back.”

“It’s not necessary.”

“Just stay there,” Arthur insisted.

Lancelot closed his eyes and prayed for strength. Arthur returned, Lancelot hissing as he cleaned the wound with water from the spring, then poured on the tonics. Finally, Arthur wrapped a strip of cloth around Lancelot’s arm, tying it tight. Lancelot was propped up, Arthur kneeling at his side. Having this little maiden fuss over him and tend his wounds only increased the torment in his heart. Arthur felt it as well. They exchanged a glance, full of yearning and gratitude, the energy between them now utterly man to woman.

Arthur’s eyes were wide, his pupils dilated. He wanted Lancelot to kiss him. He couldn’t deny it.

Lancelot saw the desire in the young woman’s eyes. Saw the way her lips parted, how she tilted back her head. He could not resist, and putting a hand to Arthur’s soft cheek, he leaned forward.

The still night air was cut to shreds by the chilling howl of a single barghest, somewhere off in the hills. Arthur and Lancelot froze at the sound, which was answered by another, and another, until the whole night filled with the howling calls of the fell beasts.

“They rally for a return,” Lancelot said. “We must flee!”

“Yes,” Arthur agreed, grabbing Lancelot’s arm and helping him to his feet, the two of them relieved they had been spared the kiss that had come so close, and may have led to so much more, yet each of them aching with the need for it still.

The threat of the barghest attacking in greater numbers was sufficient to wake them from their romance, and they quickly gathered their gear, mounted their horses, and rode!