After the rocks had fallen on my head, my mind became enwrapped in a soothing darkness. With my body rendered useless, all I could do was watch as my mind flashed through my vast store of memories.

*~*

“Alright Selwyn, status report!” commanded Lord Randwulf.

“My Lord, all of the men are positioned and thirsty for conquest. The village below doesn’t seem to suspect us near, and there are no opposing armies in sight. We are ready to invade at your order, sir!”

“Good, good. Tell the men we strike at first light. Dismissed!” Saluting, Selwyn ran off to do what Lord Randwulf had commanded of him. Lowering his voice so that only I could hear, Lord Randwulf confided to me, “Truthfully, it pains me to see our forces attack such a small, poor village, but it has to be done.”

Looking directly into his face, I asked, “Why is that? Surely a small village such as this couldn’t possibly pose as a threat to us?”

“You too soon forget how the Gods work: they never work in straightforward manners, as is the way of man. No—their ways are forever changing and made impossible to determine by our simple way of thinking.” he said gravely.

“That may be so, but that doesn’t answer the question as to why we are on the outskirts of this small village in the first place. If we do have a grander purpose here, I suggest you spread that word to the men before they quickly burn through what little spoils this place has to offer.”

“Hmm,” after choosing his next words carefully he continued, “You are of age now so I guess hiding this knowledge from you is no longer an option, especially since this concerns your fate.

“Etzel, do you remember the first raid I took you along for?” I flinched at the recollection of that event that since then had both haunted and enchanted me from my youth. Inhaling deeply to steady my nerves, I nodded for him to continue. “After that disaster occurred our soothsayer made this prediction: ‘When the dawn draws her face on the sky on the ides of spring, the one known as the warrior of valor’—you boy—‘will be tested by the gods against a feorhbana of dreams.’ To get straight to the point, our soothsayer went on to say that this battle would take place here, and that the outcome of this battle will determine the rest of your life.”

“You don’t sound too pleased by this.”

“Of course not!” he exclaimed.

“But why? I thought you of all people would be excited for me to have the opportunity of a lifetime. Besides, if this does turn out to be an epic battle and if I come out victorious, men will sing my name for generations to come!”

Looking at me straight in the eye he said, “That’s what I originally thought too. However, when I asked the soothsayer about the odds of your victory he responded that the gods favor your opponent more than they do you.”

An ominous silence fell between us as he breathed those words. My mind’s first reaction was to scream out in rejection to such a claim, but my heart knew that the words of our soothsayer were never wrong. Gathering up what little courage I had left, I asked him, “What would happen if we did not invade this village today?”

“What?!” he bellowed. “What kind of a question is that?! If this is your way of asking for the right to retreat, than think again boy! I would rather die than to live with the shame of one of my own sons being forever labeled a coward!”

Enraged by his words, I retorted, “Hah! You dare to ask me ‘what kind of a question is that?!’ If you were not my own blood-father I would slit your throat right here and now for such talk!”

Guffawing immediately upon my saying that, my father shook his head and responded, “Now that’s the spirit, boy! I knew that if I used the right words you’d be up and raring to go again!” Somehow, I believed this claim to be a total lie, but I dared not to say anything against it. For better or worse, his words served to fulfill their purpose.

*~*

“Sir Lancelot, what in God’s name do you think you are doing?!” I shouted in disgust.

Shaking his head in scorn, Lancelot sighed, “Now, now, Sir Etxel, even though you persist in being a heathen despite your phrases, I have to insist for you to refrain from using my Lord’s name in vain.”

“Really? Last I heard your god is everybody’s god, or was our priest lying to me?” I sneered back. From the moment I laid eyes on this man I had felt nothing but contempt for him, and I did little to hide this knowledge from him and everyone else in Christendom. “And anyway, that is beside the point! Now answer my inquiry: What do you think you are doing?”

“And just what do you think I am doing, per say? Please be specific.”

Irritated, I answered, “Fine, let me rephrase that: What do you think you are doing with the Queen?”

“Ah, yes, that,” Sir Lancelot smiled. “I am merely following our good Queen’s orders. Is that so shameful?”

“Yes, especially since it besmirches her name and that of King Arthur’s at the same time!”

“Oh…” Judging by his tone, he had not bothered to stop to think about that and was now feeling a strong pang of guilt about the whole ordeal. Looking directly into my face he desperately asked, “Sir Etxel, I know that what I am about to ask of you will be difficult, but could you speak of this to no one?”

I wanted to shout “no!” directly to his face, but I went against my better judgment and said to him after a long sigh, “Very well, my lips are sealed. Besides,” I added matter-of-factly, “King Arthur is already going through a lot of stress with the revival of the Anglo and Saxon invasions; he does not need your tryst with his Queen to weigh him down any further.”

Brightening up with this statement, Sir Lancelot exclaimed, “Oh, Sir Etxel, I could kiss you right about now! I knew I could rely on you, oh Great and Noble Heathen!”

“A simple ‘thank you’ would have sufficed, you damn hypocrite!” I bellowed.

Laughing, he said, “Well, I may be a ‘hypocrite,’ but at least I have the courage to court the woman I love, unlike somebody I know.”