The Flower of King and Knights

The Feast's End

As the party continued in Camelot, Kay and Bors noticed something was terribly wrong.

“Where the hell is King Ector!” screamed Sir Kay.

Everyone looked around to find the king missing, only the woman Ector had spoken to earlier had not noticed Kay’s inquisition. Instead she screamed as a large roaring thunder echoed into the castle.

“Lord in heaven, where did that noise come from?” demanded Bleobris.

The lady turned, “My lords, the king is engaged with the Black Knight!”

“King Ector!” asked Bleobris.

“Jousting?” said Bedievere.

“…What Black Knight?” asked Sir Kay.

Another thundering clasp and everyone went to the nearest window to see the king and the knight charging again at each other. This time both combatants were flung from their horse, the breaking of their spears against the other’s shield. As the two men hit the earth a woman approached Sir Kay. “My lord” she said with her voice trembling, “What is happening?”

“King Ector is fighting a Black Knight of The Order. Looks like the two are equally skilled.”

She briefly looked upon the two combatants as they raised themselves to their feet and charged at each other with swords in hand. “Ector!” she screamed before running out of the room. Sir Kay, Ector and Bediever looked at the woman with amazement.

“Who was that woman?” asked Sir Ector.

“You don’t think…?” asked Bediever before Sir Blamor followed by Sir Dagonet interrupted.

     “What is Lady Gwynever doing back here?”

Suddenly all the knights looked at each other with wide eyes, back to Ector fighting the Black Knight, and then back at each other again. Without uttering a word, they rushed to the stables to grab their steeds. Sir Blamor turned to Sir Dagonet and said, “I knew it! It was him. I finally won a wager!”

“Oh be quite, and go grab your armor. I think they’ll need our help.”

Ector and the Black Knight were now leaning on their swords, both were now exhausted from their fight. Ector could feel the sweat pouring off his brow, his sides were screaming in pain and his left foot went numb after the Knight stepped on it heavily. He could barely keep his grip on Excalibur and Caliburn as he tried desperately to regain his strength.

“Are you ready to yield?” asked the Black Knight.

“No, what about you?” replied Ector.

“I have yet to yield to any opponent without having them yield in turn.”

“Does that mean I have to yield in defeat?”

“Not exactly, we could agree to postpone our fight until later, or to yield in friendship.”

“I have no vendetta against you good knight, so I am more than willing to yield in friendship. What say you?”

“Aye, I will yield to friendship.”

The two men stood their seconds after they ended their fight. “Um…I can’t really move anymore,” said Ector embarrassingly.

“Aye, neither can I. This armor begins to be a problem after fights like this.”

“While we stand here and wait, may I ask a question?”

“Certainly.”

“Who was the harder opponent to beat, Sir Gawain or Sir Tarquin?”

Without hesitation the Black Knight responded, “Tarquin, that bastard was the worst man I ever faced.”

“That’s what I thought. Oh no.” No sooner did Ector finish that he fell to the earth with a thud, uttering a pitiful, “ow”, as he landed.

“Oh good, now I can rest,” said Launcelot before he hit the earth.

“You know, this is kinda nice when you can get your helm off.”

“Aye it is.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Was a cue my lord?” asked Ulrich still astride his steed.

“Yes you bloody idiot, get this helm off me, I can’t reach it with my arms!”

“On my way, my lord.”

As the squire removed the men’s helm, they could hear the hooves of horses riding towards them.

“Oh good, we have company,” said Ulrich.