Chapter One
King Ban fell to his knees throwing his arms out into the sky beseeching his god. Helen watched her husband crumble in dispair as he watched the pillar of black smoke rise against the clear blue sky. Helen held back her own tears of rage as she watched her home burn from a far.
She knelt by her husband, running her fingers through his thin white hair. Ban was an old man, waning from this world, and she wasn't sure how much grief he could take. "Ban, come on. We have to keep moving."
"Our home..." he choked. "It's gone. I grew up in that castle, Helen...my father was buried there, and my mother! My ancestral home...our son's birthright, it's gone!"
That was what brought the tears from behind Helen's eyes, rolling hot down her cheeks. They truly did lose everything. Their home was gone, the men they had offered protection to were either turned or slain and their son, Galahad, who was to inherit the most beautiful kingdom in all of Gaul was now prince of the ashes. If Helen had the luxury of collapsing at the sight she would have, but her elderly husband and king needed her to be strong. Galahad needed her strength.
"I know.." she whispered. "That makes it even more important for us to press on and entreat King Arthur.We need his men and arms if we're ever to reclaim your birthright. Your son's birthright."
Ban choked out one last sob before regaining his composure. He stood proudly once again, and mounted his grey horse, and he pressed his lips together in what might have been stoic determination. Though Helen could see his dark blue eyes vacantly staring at the road before him, cold and dead. Helen prayed he would move passed this.
They rode onward in a chilling silence as the wood grew thicker, blotting out the blue sky with swatched of dark green. Even the birds kept their silence in this dark forest. The echoes of horse hooves hitting the soil did little to reassure Helen all would be fine. She nestled tiny Galahad closer to body, acknowleging his occaisional mumurs with a soft coo or a hushing.
Creepers grew between the close knit trees and covered the road, the thick green vines threatening to catch unweary horse hooves. Twilight was fast approaching, and a thick mist came rolling in with the coming dark. Helen shuddered holding her infant son closer to her as they rode on. The hairs stood on the back of her neck and she felt the overwhelming urge to leave the forest before any of the fair folk saw to leave from their to torment them. Helen imagined ghosts and demons lurked with them in the fog.
As if on cue with the rolling fog and dark Galahad let out a monsterous cry, sending birds from their places of relative safety in the trees. Helen sang and hushed and assured, but nothing could quieten the child.
"We have to make camp," their squire Lacelle announced. "I found empty space by a lake. We can build a fire there to ward off the animals and you can finally rest."
"I'm not staying one second longer than I must in this bloody forest, Lacelle!" she cried. "There are..." she thought to speak her true fears and then thought again, knowing they would see it as superstitious nonesense. "There are wolves in the wood!"
"Which is why we will want a fire, rather to be stumbling around in the dark waiting for the wolves to take our horses and our lives." Ban said, speaking for the first time since the morning. "Think of Galahad."
Helen had no choice but to concede to her husband and her king. He was right, of course. Galahad needed to feed and to have a proper rest. The same could be said for Ban, who was close onto to sixty. And though Helen wished to remain stalwart, she too was weary.
Lacelle lead them to the spot he spoke of and they made camp in the first space beneath the open sky for leagues. Helen laid out on a pallet with Galahad in her arms by the fire thinking that this place might have been beautiful if not for the circumstances. The grass was a lush emerald, each blade glinting in the silvered moonlight with evening dew, the trees stood proud and anient in a near perfect circle around them, and the starspangled black sky reflected perfectly on the large, clear lake. In her girlhood such a place might have brought on urges to swim, and revel in the magical land they lived in. But now all she could do was stare blankly at the stars trying not to cry of her brother-in-laws betrayal.
Ban excused himself to wake Lacelle after they were fed. Once the squire was fully awake, he prepared to keep watch for the remainder of the night while Ban, Helen and little Galahad slept. Once Galahad and Ban were both soundly asleep, Helen allowed herself to weep for all she had lost, for her ailing husband's loss, and for her infant son's wretched future. He would have no home, and Helen knew she would not be able to provide for him having been of gentle birth. Galahad would likely starve.
Knowing that she had no chance of breaking her husband's spirit or waking her son, Helen let herself weep mournfully until sleep finally allowed her a short, but sweet reprieve.
Helen awoke to the sounds of singing birds and a softbreeze coming in off the lake. She reached out to stroke Ban's beard and bid him good morning, but only felt the cold softness of his pillow.She opened her eyes to see he was gone. I picked up Galahad, neglecting to swaddle him in my hurry. She emerged from the tent to see cold ash in our firepit and the golden sun high in the blue sky. Ban and Lacelle were both nowhere to be seen. All three horses were still hitched to the post. Helen set Galahad down on her folded cloak and searched the camp.
A terrible cry sounded from within the wood and Helen rushed in the direction of the cry. When she reached the source she screamed in fear.
Ban laid still very still in the soil, his face cold and white, and his blood stained trails from his eyes down his cheeks. Helen did not know what caused him to cry tears of blood, and saw that he had also been coughing up blood by the stains around his mouth.
How horrible! Helen thought as she wept over her dead husband's body. Ban had died in incredible pain, still grieving the loss of his home, and his brother's betrayl (the feud was what sent them on their journey in the first place), and he was completely alone. Guilt tormented Helen with each sob, as she thought of how she could have prevented all of this if she had only been with him. At the very least, Ban would not have died alone, without the smallest comfort to console him as he passed into the afterlife.
Helen did not know how long she allowed herself to weep over her husbands dead body before she realized she did not have the luxury to grieve. Galahad was left out in the cold near the tree where the horses had been hitched and completely alone. She took a deep breath and rose from Ban's side knowing she could grieve after Galahad's home was secured. For now she had to find her son alive and then look for the squire Lacelle.
Moving as quickly as her feet could carry her she ran to the lake, stumbling over roots and vines without notice, her heart pounding so feircely that she the felt it might burst from her chest. All she could think about was Galahad, and how she had left him.
Helen emerged from the treeline ready to swoop up her infant son and assure him everything was alright, but instead she froze in her tracks as some other woman swaddled Galahad in fine white silk, kissing his brow. She called out to the woman from the treeline.
When the lady looked up Helen knew that this was no ordinary woman. She was a faerie, incredibly beautiful cloaked in white with smooth black hair trailing past her knees and lily white skin. It was not just this woman's other wordly beauty that told her that this was a faerie, but there was something behind her sappire eyes revealing a deep ancient magic that she had no chance of understanding.
The faerie woman turned with Galahad in her arms walking out toward the lake. When her feet touched the still water, Helen knew too late that she was taking the child beneath the waves. Helen's fear for her child's welfare won over her fear of the fair folk, and she followed the faerie woman into the surf, pleading with her.
"No!" she cried from the shore. "Please, you don't know what you're doing! I know I left Galahad here, but his father was missing. I found my husband dead , cold on the ground! I would never have abandonned Galahad if I had not heard his cry. I will be a good mother to him!"
The lady said nothing, continuing into the lake, further than Helen knew she could go into the lake, with only her shoulders above the water, with Galahad's tiny sleeping face resting on her shoulder. Helen wept to think she might not see those eyes open again. "You will drown him!" she shrieked. "Do not punish the child for his mother's foolishness! Please, you must...You can't do this!"
Heedless of Helen's cries, the lady simply kissed Galahad's cheek lightly before whispering. "Welcome home, Lancelot du Lac" before vanishing beneath the waters.
King Ban fell to his knees throwing his arms out into the sky beseeching his god. Helen watched her husband crumble in dispair as he watched the pillar of black smoke rise against the clear blue sky. Helen held back her own tears of rage as she watched her home burn from a far.
She knelt by her husband, running her fingers through his thin white hair. Ban was an old man, waning from this world, and she wasn't sure how much grief he could take. "Ban, come on. We have to keep moving."
"Our home..." he choked. "It's gone. I grew up in that castle, Helen...my father was buried there, and my mother! My ancestral home...our son's birthright, it's gone!"
That was what brought the tears from behind Helen's eyes, rolling hot down her cheeks. They truly did lose everything. Their home was gone, the men they had offered protection to were either turned or slain and their son, Galahad, who was to inherit the most beautiful kingdom in all of Gaul was now prince of the ashes. If Helen had the luxury of collapsing at the sight she would have, but her elderly husband and king needed her to be strong. Galahad needed her strength.
"I know.." she whispered. "That makes it even more important for us to press on and entreat King Arthur.We need his men and arms if we're ever to reclaim your birthright. Your son's birthright."
Ban choked out one last sob before regaining his composure. He stood proudly once again, and mounted his grey horse, and he pressed his lips together in what might have been stoic determination. Though Helen could see his dark blue eyes vacantly staring at the road before him, cold and dead. Helen prayed he would move passed this.
They rode onward in a chilling silence as the wood grew thicker, blotting out the blue sky with swatched of dark green. Even the birds kept their silence in this dark forest. The echoes of horse hooves hitting the soil did little to reassure Helen all would be fine. She nestled tiny Galahad closer to body, acknowleging his occaisional mumurs with a soft coo or a hushing.
Creepers grew between the close knit trees and covered the road, the thick green vines threatening to catch unweary horse hooves. Twilight was fast approaching, and a thick mist came rolling in with the coming dark. Helen shuddered holding her infant son closer to her as they rode on. The hairs stood on the back of her neck and she felt the overwhelming urge to leave the forest before any of the fair folk saw to leave from their to torment them. Helen imagined ghosts and demons lurked with them in the fog.
As if on cue with the rolling fog and dark Galahad let out a monsterous cry, sending birds from their places of relative safety in the trees. Helen sang and hushed and assured, but nothing could quieten the child.
"We have to make camp," their squire Lacelle announced. "I found empty space by a lake. We can build a fire there to ward off the animals and you can finally rest."
"I'm not staying one second longer than I must in this bloody forest, Lacelle!" she cried. "There are..." she thought to speak her true fears and then thought again, knowing they would see it as superstitious nonesense. "There are wolves in the wood!"
"Which is why we will want a fire, rather to be stumbling around in the dark waiting for the wolves to take our horses and our lives." Ban said, speaking for the first time since the morning. "Think of Galahad."
Helen had no choice but to concede to her husband and her king. He was right, of course. Galahad needed to feed and to have a proper rest. The same could be said for Ban, who was close onto to sixty. And though Helen wished to remain stalwart, she too was weary.
Lacelle lead them to the spot he spoke of and they made camp in the first space beneath the open sky for leagues. Helen laid out on a pallet with Galahad in her arms by the fire thinking that this place might have been beautiful if not for the circumstances. The grass was a lush emerald, each blade glinting in the silvered moonlight with evening dew, the trees stood proud and anient in a near perfect circle around them, and the starspangled black sky reflected perfectly on the large, clear lake. In her girlhood such a place might have brought on urges to swim, and revel in the magical land they lived in. But now all she could do was stare blankly at the stars trying not to cry of her brother-in-laws betrayal.
Ban excused himself to wake Lacelle after they were fed. Once the squire was fully awake, he prepared to keep watch for the remainder of the night while Ban, Helen and little Galahad slept. Once Galahad and Ban were both soundly asleep, Helen allowed herself to weep for all she had lost, for her ailing husband's loss, and for her infant son's wretched future. He would have no home, and Helen knew she would not be able to provide for him having been of gentle birth. Galahad would likely starve.
Knowing that she had no chance of breaking her husband's spirit or waking her son, Helen let herself weep mournfully until sleep finally allowed her a short, but sweet reprieve.
Helen awoke to the sounds of singing birds and a softbreeze coming in off the lake. She reached out to stroke Ban's beard and bid him good morning, but only felt the cold softness of his pillow.She opened her eyes to see he was gone. I picked up Galahad, neglecting to swaddle him in my hurry. She emerged from the tent to see cold ash in our firepit and the golden sun high in the blue sky. Ban and Lacelle were both nowhere to be seen. All three horses were still hitched to the post. Helen set Galahad down on her folded cloak and searched the camp.
A terrible cry sounded from within the wood and Helen rushed in the direction of the cry. When she reached the source she screamed in fear.
Ban laid still very still in the soil, his face cold and white, and his blood stained trails from his eyes down his cheeks. Helen did not know what caused him to cry tears of blood, and saw that he had also been coughing up blood by the stains around his mouth.
How horrible! Helen thought as she wept over her dead husband's body. Ban had died in incredible pain, still grieving the loss of his home, and his brother's betrayl (the feud was what sent them on their journey in the first place), and he was completely alone. Guilt tormented Helen with each sob, as she thought of how she could have prevented all of this if she had only been with him. At the very least, Ban would not have died alone, without the smallest comfort to console him as he passed into the afterlife.
Helen did not know how long she allowed herself to weep over her husbands dead body before she realized she did not have the luxury to grieve. Galahad was left out in the cold near the tree where the horses had been hitched and completely alone. She took a deep breath and rose from Ban's side knowing she could grieve after Galahad's home was secured. For now she had to find her son alive and then look for the squire Lacelle.
Moving as quickly as her feet could carry her she ran to the lake, stumbling over roots and vines without notice, her heart pounding so feircely that she the felt it might burst from her chest. All she could think about was Galahad, and how she had left him.
Helen emerged from the treeline ready to swoop up her infant son and assure him everything was alright, but instead she froze in her tracks as some other woman swaddled Galahad in fine white silk, kissing his brow. She called out to the woman from the treeline.
When the lady looked up Helen knew that this was no ordinary woman. She was a faerie, incredibly beautiful cloaked in white with smooth black hair trailing past her knees and lily white skin. It was not just this woman's other wordly beauty that told her that this was a faerie, but there was something behind her sappire eyes revealing a deep ancient magic that she had no chance of understanding.
The faerie woman turned with Galahad in her arms walking out toward the lake. When her feet touched the still water, Helen knew too late that she was taking the child beneath the waves. Helen's fear for her child's welfare won over her fear of the fair folk, and she followed the faerie woman into the surf, pleading with her.
"No!" she cried from the shore. "Please, you don't know what you're doing! I know I left Galahad here, but his father was missing. I found my husband dead , cold on the ground! I would never have abandonned Galahad if I had not heard his cry. I will be a good mother to him!"
The lady said nothing, continuing into the lake, further than Helen knew she could go into the lake, with only her shoulders above the water, with Galahad's tiny sleeping face resting on her shoulder. Helen wept to think she might not see those eyes open again. "You will drown him!" she shrieked. "Do not punish the child for his mother's foolishness! Please, you must...You can't do this!"
Heedless of Helen's cries, the lady simply kissed Galahad's cheek lightly before whispering. "Welcome home, Lancelot du Lac" before vanishing beneath the waters.
