Excalibur: Legend of the Big Ass Sword

[Ancient History]

Arthur rode back to camp from the successful ambuscade, covered in Saxon blood and carrying a broken sword. All of northern England was overrun, and the Saxon horde numbered damn near ten thousand by the best guesses of his surviving scouts. If they stopped to burn and loot every damn village, it might take them four days to reach the forces he was gathering in Badon. At Badon, there would be a battle; over four thousand men and nearly four hundred cavalry. Too big to turn their back on to sack Londinium or Camelot, that's for damn sure.

The squires assisted Arthur down, removed his armor and saw to his horse and weapons. The broken sword he carried with him still. Arthur headed opened the door of his chambers; ready for his bath, his meal, and his wench. Which is where he found Merlin, seated in front of Arthur's dinner, staring into the fire and sipping wine. The fair-haired king dropped the broken sword onto the table by the old man, then sat down and began his mead and meat.

Merlin's veined and callused hand reached out and picked up the hilt, setting his cup down on the floor to stare at the shattered blade, reading aloud the half-erased inscription "Whosoever pulleth this sword..."

Arthur grunted, swallowed, and spake: "It has been a long time, old man, since I pulled that sword from that stone and anvil. For all those years, it served me until stuck in a Saxon skull and smashed by a Saxon warhammer. Is it an omen, Myrddin?"

Merlin seemed older now, and lost in thought. He had been mad for over twenty years, since his leige lord had died in battle. That horrible day haunted him through other lords, other masters, all who listened to him doomed to a darksome fate which Merlin would live to witness and bear the agony of it all again. Arthur saw Merlin cast the broken sword into the fire, and the old man rose, seeming larger. His voice was immeasurably older and more powerful as he spoke a prophecy, just as he had the day Merlin had told a much younger Arthur to pull a sword from a stone "You need a symbol, to unite your disparate allies against the Saxon. You need an old myth, yes, and a blade...a very large blade, as great as Cu Chulainn and all the other giants of old who would wield the true power of the land over the people's heart. Go west from Badon a week's ride, past the isle of Glastonbury, and look you for the Lady of the Lake. Speak softly unto her, and you will receive a king's blade, then return. Do this, or you and all of yours will break yourselves on the Saxon horde, and the lives you spend will be in vain." At this, Merlin's eyes rolled up, and he shrank within himself. Without leave, the aged madman stumbled from the King's chambers, cup of wine crouched firmly in his hand.

Arthur pondered the words, finished off his mead in one draught, then went for his bath. He awoke the next morning by a buxom little lass with waves of red hair, lying in the wet spot. After a quick use of the jakes, he called his chamberlin and his attendants. The former was told to summon Sir Kay, while the latter helped him dress and prepared his horse and armor for the journey to come. Kay arrived within minutes, just as Arthur finished dressing.

"You called me, my liege?"

"My sword was broken last night, Kay. The Sword in the Stone. Myrddin gave me a prophecy last night. There's another sword, one which will inspire the people. I'm going after it."

"Abandoning Badon at the eve of battle? The earthworks are complete, but we've not the stores nor the numbers to hold off the Saxons more than a few weeks."

"Myrddin says I need the sword. He's been right before. When you see my dragon banner unfurl on Badon hill, open the front gate and let the cavalry charge out."

"Hrmph. Better one last, mad dash than slow starvation and attrition, I suppose. Well, get going, I'm manage here."

Arthur set forth on his quest, unencumbered by platemail but wearing a head-to-toe coat of maille. Six days did he head north, dodging fewer and fewer Saxon war bands. At Glastonbury, the winter rains had flooded the great marsh, cutting off the tor to form a lonely isle, with an aged boatman plying his sciff back and forth on the waters.

Arthur shouted a greeting "Ho, Boatman! Where may I find the Lady of the Lake?"

The grizzled Boatman returned "Ye be mad sir, tae seek that place. Head ye east less than a day's ride, and ask of Queen Morgan de Fae at the castle of the Three Queens!"

"Thank you, Boatman, and goodbye!"

"Say better Fare-thee-well, stranger. I fear we'll meet again."

Saying that, the Boatman crossed himself and poled off toward the far shore. Arthur rounded part of the lake and headed east, to the castle of his half-sister Morgan de Fae. After many hours ride he came across fields left fallow for winter, and low-slung cottages with peat, dung and woodsmoke poring from their chimneys. The road from Glastonbury widened to as Arthur rode past hamlet, village, and town before arriving at the darksome Castle of Three Queens.

Arthur had not known his half-sister much at all. The daughter of Gorlois and Igraine, she had been sent to a convent for her education when Arthur was born. Morgan never took orders, though, and married a minor king. That king later attempted to assassinate him, but Morgan claimed no knowledge of the plot. Some time later did Morgan seek out her brother again and asked for their mother's castle and lands as a boon, which he granted...they had not seen each other for years since.

The Castle of Three Queens abutted a lake, which prevented assault on two sides. Arthur identified himself to the guards, and was immediately ushured in and made welcome. Morgan herself came to see him, beautiful in the fading light with fair hair, so like their mother's, elfin cheeks and kohl-rimmed eyes.

"Greetings, my liege. Please, come, a supper is waiting for us." So saying she played the host, and led Arthur to a darksome great hall and a massive table, the end set for only two with Arthur at the head and Morgan to his right. Servants came and set out the food and cups, Morgan poured the wine herself. They ate in silence, and after the meal they lounged in front of the fire, sipping mulled wine. Arthur asked his sister of the Lady of the Lake.

Morgan frowned, and looked seriously at Arthur.
"That is not lightly said, my lord brother. Praythee, tell me why you seek the Lady of the Lake?"

So Arthur told Morgan of the seige of Badon, and the breaking of his sword, and the prophecy of Merlin. Morgan nodded, then spoke.

"I will tell you brother, for I know where is the Lady of the Lake and the sword you spake of. But first, you must agree to give me a boon."

Her voice had dropped into husky whispers as she refilled his goblet, staring always into his eyes. Arthur could feel the warm wine in his belly, and something about his half-sister's stare kept his eyes and sent odd feelings through him. He agreed to give his sister any boon, if she would tell him where to find the Lady of the Lake. A sultry smile crept onto Morgan's lips, and slender fingers touched his golden hair.

"Sweetly spoken my brother, sweetly spoken. Do you know how alone I have been, these years? My years in that horrible convent, my poor, foolish husband dead and buried...once, I did take visiting knight, one Lancelot as my man. He honored me by taking my love and the name of that Lake, where your sword dwells...but he left me. To seek out other adventures and your own good graces..."

Arthur's head pounded, as Morgan's voice turned cruel.

"I need a salve for my loneliness, dear brother, and you have spoken such sweet words to this Lady. Tonight, you shall give me my boon, a child who is rightful heir, and a helpmeet for me. Tomorrow, go forth to that lake abutting the castle, and follow the stream that is its source to a smaller lake...and seek you there the Lady of the Lake."

Arthur, not completely befuddled by the wine, gave his sister the incestuous boon she craved...no matter how great the sin in the eyes of God, he had given his word both to her and the men of Badon that he would return. When the passion was over, Arthur slept a deep and dreamless sleep. The morning sun brought him from his now lonesome bed, and toward the hidden lake.

As he approached, a small arm garbed in white rose from the center of the lake, holding a great sword within a leather sheath. Nearby a small boat was beached, and Arthur rowed himself through against the slight current toward the white-garbed hand. A wind kicked up and storm clouds began to move in as Arthur neared the outthrust sword...this close he could tell the true size of the blade, and was amazed. A very pinnacle of steel, the blade at least six feet long, and the handle another two feet wrapped in gilded wire. The Samite-covered hand was a the tip of a larger-than life statue of white marble...Arthur was unsurprised to look down through the clear water and see the features of Morgan which were now emblazoned in his mind.

With exceeding care, Arthur hefted the massive sword from the Lady of the Lake's grip, and inspected the fabled blade of Bran, and Cu Chulainn, and Wayland Smith. The sheer weight and size of the thing would be enough against an ordinary opponent, but the steel was magnificent quality and the oiled leather sheath had kept the unornamented blade razor sharp. He laid the sword as much in the boat as possible, and rowed back to the shore with his prize.

<Excalibur: Legend of the Big Ass Sword continues later with Bloodbath at Badon>

[FlameBlade]

going to be...interesting. comments later.

[Ancient History]

I know. Pretty bad. But I don't have the heart to just make a farse of the whole damn thing.

[AtemHutlrt]

Here's a simple formula, if you do decide to make it a farce: At every appearance, replace the word "Boatman" with "Batman".

Arthur shouted a greeting "Ho, Batman! Where may I find the Lady of the Lake?"

Ha!