“I have a gift,” Vivian replied, leaning back in her seat, arms crossed over her chest confidently. “It’s the weirdest thing. People tell me stuff when I ask them.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Lancelot muttered, thinking back to a time long ago, when angels, magic, and vicious hand-to-hand combat were the rule of the day.
Lancelot drove on, mulling over in his mind how much he missed having someone with him who knew his origins and his true identity. Vivian stirred memories Lancelot had lost in his monotonous journey through the centuries of change. Excitement shot through him with every thought of what Vivian’s sudden appearance might mean. The slow grind of years wore on Lancelot, until he had all but forgotten why he was still alive. His purpose had welled up inside him since the first moment he glimpsed Vivian. Time had blunted even the most vivid feelings Lancelot remembered. Never in his wildest imaginings, long ago, had he dreamed that a thousand years would pass before his mission from God would begin. He looked on the young woman next to him as the embodiment of hope and the key to completing his final journey.
“Wow,” Vivian intoned with genuine surprise, as Lancelot drove into a double-wide driveway leading to a two-story house with attached two-car garage. “This is yours?”
Lancelot nodded, activating the remote garage door opener mounted on the center panel between the seats. The garage door opened, and Lancelot drove his Pontiac into the pristine garage. Overhead fluorescent lights came on as the garage door closed again. Having climbed out of the passenger side, Vivian grabbed her bag from the back seat. Lancelot led the way into the house after deactivating the security system. He took her on a quick tour of his four-bedroom, three-bath house, with workout room and small office. In the second bedroom he showed her, Lancelot revealed a safe-room, complete with audio and video coverage inside.
“What do you need with a safe-room?” Vivian asked, looking around at the monitors.
“I get asked to watch out for a person or persons once in a while, when I’m not in the service. I can put them in here until I find the threat. It pays very well,” Lancelot replied. “This room is self-contained, with its own air, food supplies, bathroom, and electrical power source. I bought the house because of this safe-room.”
“You must be pretty well off.”
“I’ve accumulated a great fortune over the centuries, which also has to be moved and hidden from casual curiosity. The Swiss have proved less than trustworthy lately, so I’ve been inquiring about banking in the Cayman Islands. I have to be careful not to draw attention to anything to do with money, so I pay mortgages on the house and car. The Internet has afforded me an easy channel for moving my money.”
“Julie said you only had one bag of stuff when you left,” Vivian observed, as Lancelot led her into the huge kitchen, completely furnished. “What do you mean by ‘over the centuries’?”
“I paid to have it furnished when I signed the final papers.” Lancelot ignored her last question. “Did you see a bedroom you liked? I don’t really have a favorite, so you can have any of the four.”
“I…figured you’d want me bunking with you, Jim,” Vivian replied in little more than a whisper. She avoided looking at Lancelot, but her heart raced.
“Not going to happen,” Lancelot stated flatly. “Want a beer?”
“Sure,” Vivian answered, sitting in one of the leather cushioned seats at the engraved oak kitchen table, while Lancelot sat across from her with two bottles of beer and two glasses.
“You slept with Julie,” Vivian pointed out, while Lancelot poured their beers.
“So,” Lancelot countered, smiling as he placed the beer glass in front of Vivian, “I automatically sleep with every woman who crosses my path? Julie probably didn’t tell you that we lived in the same complex for three years, and I never touched her until my last night of living there. She was twenty-five. What are you, fifteen or sixteen?”
“I’m eighteen!” Vivian gasped in surprise at Lancelot’s age estimate. “I-”
Lancelot started laughing, and Vivian angrily took a long drink of her beer.
“Look,” Lancelot said finally, his hands spread out on the table in front of him as he leaned forward, “I don’t sleep with just anyone, and I certainly wouldn’t sleep with a young woman I just met. You look exactly like a woman I cared a great deal about, long ago. This whole series of events has been so strange that I’m not sure where to start. If you have no memory of anything, what I tell you will seem strange as hell. In fact, you’ll think I’m insane.”
“Enough of the buildup, Benwick,” Vivian waved her right forefinger in a circle, gesturing for Lancelot to get on with it. “I’m bored now.”
“Do you know the story of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table?”
“I’ve heard of them, sure,” Vivian acknowledged with a trace of impatience in her voice. “Didn’t one of King Arthur’s knights pork his wife, and screw up the whole kingdom?”
Vivian watched the shadow flow over Lancelot’s face at her glib comment, and smiled knowingly. “You’re one of those Arthurian legend freaks my high school English teacher talked about, who thinks the whole modern world revolves around the myth, aren’t you?”
Lancelot remained silent. Vivian’s one-sentence summary, describing the death of a dream, had pierced Lancelot’s heart as if he had been impaled on a red-hot poker. Vivian, seeing how her comment had registered with Lancelot, reached across the table and grabbed his hand in hers.
“Hey, sorry,” Vivian apologized. “I didn’t mean to rain on your parade. I wanted to get you back for zinging me on my age.”
Lancelot patted her hand, and leaned back in his chair, a far-off look in his eyes. “No need to be sorry. You told it all in one sentence.”
Lancelot drained his glass, and went to the refrigerator to get another beer.
“You’re really into that stuff, huh?”
Sitting down again, Lancelot poured his beer. “Yeah, I guess I am, and there’s a reason for it. I’m the Knight who porked the King’s wife and brought down a kingdom.”
Vivian burst into laughter, clapping her hands and rocking back and forth in her chair. Lancelot smiled at her reaction. He stood up, walked to one of the cabinets, and pulled open the top drawer. Lancelot took a knife out of the drawer. While Vivian giggled, Lancelot turned and slashed his arm from elbow to wrist. The wound spurted blood. Vivian screamed in shock. Having rushed over to grab a kitchen towel off the shelf, she hurried to Lancelot.
“What the hell!” Vivian exclaimed, as Lancelot held up his unharmed arm, and she dropped the towel to the now bloody floor. “Is this some kind of magic trick? It ain’t funny!”
“It’s no magic trick,” Lancelot replied calmly, and slashed his arm again right under Vivian’s nose.
“Stop that!” Vivian yelled in his face as blood again flowed momentarily. She watched the wound close up in open-mouthed wonder. “How…how can-”
“Want to see it again?” Lancelot asked raising the knife again.
“No!” Shaking her head, Vivian grabbed Lancelot’s knife-wielding hand with both of hers. “Whatever you want me to believe, I’ll believe.”
Lancelot stroked her face with his free hand. “Okay, go and sit down while I clean up this mess. Better get another beer, too, while you’re at it.”
Vivian stared questioningly up into Lancelot’s blue eyes, the soothing touch of his hand sending chills through her body. Nodding, she released his hand and walked over to the refrigerator for a beer. Lancelot quickly wiped up the spilled blood, grinning as he watched Vivian gulp down the remainder of her first beer and start on the second. When Lancelot was seated again, he sipped his beer.
“Well?” Vivian prodded impatiently, her mind in a near panic with what she had witnessed.
“Will you hear my tale now?” Lancelot asked.
“Yes,” Vivian replied simply without further comment, meeting Lancelot’s gaze.
Chapter Seven: Legend
Vivia
n sat enthralled through Lancelot’s recounting of his origin and life. For nearly two hours, he related what he had told no one on earth. He finished with a detailed explanation of how he had escaped detection over the centuries, and questions he could not answer. Lancelot had avoided using the name Vivian, referring to her as the Lady of the Lake. Vivian, who had barely moved an inch since the beginning of Lancelot’s story, stood up and went to get two more beers, placing them on the table.
“I have to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back,” Vivian said in a monotone, but she added a warning, complete with wagging finger. “Be here when I get back.”
“I’ve been waiting a thousand years. I can wait a few more minutes.”
When Vivian returned, Lancelot could tell that she had washed off her face. She swallowed a large gulp of beer, and took a deep breath.
“That was more than I ever wanted to know about history,” Vivian admitted. “So, you think I’m the messenger for this new phase of your mission?”
“If you were in my place, wouldn’t you?”
“Yeah… I guess I would. There’s only one problem: I don’t know shit. This is…beyond weird. Real Twilight Zone stuff. You’re really Sir Lancelot, and that goofy Arthurian legend is all true?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry about the remark I made,” Vivian said.
“No way could you have known how close to the truth you were with one sentence,” Lancelot replied.
“So, this Lady of the Lake controlled Guinevere, and it was really her you loved?”
“Yes, and her name was Vivian. You are her mirror image,” Lancelot added.
“Oh…my…God…” Vivian stood up, turning away in near fright with her hands over her face, as if she were trying to block out the ensuing thoughts. “That…that’s why you didn’t even hesitate to meet a complete stranger. Jesus…Camlann, the final battle, and my name…after all this time… You must have freaked.”
“My blood was pounding all the way over to the terminal,” Lancelot agreed. “When I saw you fighting with those young men, I nearly forgot where I was. There is no pressure here, Vivian. I know nothing other than what I’ve told you. We’ll have to wait until you have another vision, or until some other piece of this puzzle makes itself known.”
“But…I’m the woman you loved,” Vivian said, turning to sit at the table and facing Lancelot again.
“We don’t know that yet,” Lancelot replied soothingly. “You may have been given her looks as a sign to me after a thousand years that my time was at hand.”
“Sure,” Vivian agreed, “but I could be her, and-”
“Don’t put yourself through this right now,” Lancelot interrupted, grasping her hands. “If my time is truly here, the mission will be revealed soon.”
Tears began welling up in Vivian’s eyes as she gazed at the grim Lancelot, who said levelly, “You’ve been through a lot. This is no fluke or coincidence, Vivian. Something big is on the horizon. It doesn’t matter if you’re really her. You have a part in this now, and we’ll work it out. Take some time to absorb all this.” Lancelot smiled suddenly. “Hey, kid, with that nose, it’s probably a case of mistaken identity.”
“Who you callin’ kid?” Vivian laughed, covering her mouth with her hand to keep her utterance from turning into a sob. “Hell, punk, I’ve been around a lot longer than you. Show some respect. I’m your mother, after all.”
“Cradle robber.”
“Incestuous pervert,” Vivian fired back without hesitation.
Lancelot laughed. “That’s more like it.”
“What’s it like being alive over a thousand years?”
“Alone. I felt alone.”
“Did you have a family?” Vivian continued, questioning Lancelot even as her mind began to accept the unacceptable.
“No, I’ve lived the warrior’s life, and thankfully, I could not father children.”
“You’re like that Highlander guy in the old movies and TV series,” Vivian observed.
“I don’t think so.” Lancelot sipped his beer with a smile. “I’m not taking heads to be the one. I am the One. I don’t die, only to be revived. I don’t get involved in relationships with women. I don’t go around whining to anyone who’ll listen, about my grim lot in the universe, either.”
“So, you did watch the series,” Vivian observed.
“Yes, I watched the movie, and later the series, when it came out on DVD,” Lancelot admitted. “The music was good, and a story about an immortal in fiction did interest me.”
“How do you pass the time between military careers? You admitted being careful not to stay in so long that people would begin looking at you suspiciously.”
“Mercenary and bodyguard work, mostly. I’ve only had to be really careful since they began using fingerprint and DNA technology. It will probably be many years before I could go back into the Marine Corps.”
“Yeah, all they’d have to do is check your fingerprints, and up pops your last stint,” Vivian nodded in agreement. “How’d you finally come over to America?”
“I shipped aboard the Dunkirk in the Royal Marines, and slipped off into the wilderness during the French and Indian War. I spent those years between then and the Revolution hunting and trapping.”
“Jesus…” Vivian muttered, “I could ask you a thousand questions about the history, and what you’ve seen.”
“Why don’t we do it in short doses?” Lancelot offered. “We don’t have to go through a thousand years of history in one night.”
“You’ve killed a lot of people, haven’t you?”
“Thousands,” Lancelot answered simply. “I never killed indiscriminately. Before you ask, I don’t know why God would choose a warrior for this task. I did as I was asked. I am fluent in many languages, cultures, and war.”
“How about love?”
“I’ve always been fluent in love, and susceptible to its many hidden traps,” Lancelot admitted. “My weakness for it cost me the best friend I ever had.”
Vivian sipped her beer, watching the grim Lancelot. Hell, I don’t have to be the real Lady of the Lake to know that I’m falling for this guy, she thought, feeling some trepidation after making this inner admission. Every time he looks at me with those eyes, my breathing gets short, and my panties get wet.
“It’s been a long day.” Vivian stretched and stood up. “Why don’t we test out your love fluency?”
“Not going to happen,” Lancelot stated again firmly as he also stood up. “Tell me which bedroom you want. I recommend the one with the attached safe-room, in case I have to deal with the gang punks later on. They shouldn’t be on to us for another few days, but we might as well get you settled in there.”
“I’m a big girl, Percy,” Vivian retorted, following Lancelot upstairs. “Why don’t you cut the big brother act and show me what you got?”
“You know,” Lancelot said as he halted and turned to face Vivian, “Julie said pretty much the same thing. It’s unwise to push me.”
“Julie’s a little bowlegged, but none the worse for wear. Are you going to spank me too, before screwing my brains out?”
“Neither one,” Lancelot shook his head, and resumed walking up the stairs. “Let’s not keep dancing around on this, young lady. Enjoy your stay while we root around to the bottom of this mess, but don’t keep playing me, or I’ll boot your ass out on the street.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
Lancelot turned before entering the bedroom with the safe-room attachment, and gave Vivian the deadliest stare she had ever seen. “Don’t tempt me, girl.”
Vivian started to reply, and then shut up. She walked past Lancelot into the room.
“You have everything in there, so make yourself at home,” Lancelot said, closing the bedroom door. “Goodnight.”
That guy is frightening, Vivian thought, shivering as she looked back at the closed door. She stripped off her clothes and walked into the safe-room’s fully outfitted bathroom. In the l
arge medicine cabinet over the sink, she found new toiletries in their packages. After brushing her teeth, she spent the next twenty minutes luxuriating in the shower. Minutes after lying down on the queen-sized bed, she fell into a deep sleep.
In a wet, dank cavern, Vivian walked dreamily down a long corridor with lighted torches on each side. She looked around in wonderment, noticing that although she could smell the damp rot around her, she could not feel her bare feet on the rock surface below. Reaching out, she ran her hand along the wall, glistening with wetness, but felt nothing. Dull amber light pulsed ahead, generated within an alcove where the corridor ended. Vivian had such a feeling of familiarity that she hurried along and passed through the entrance to the alcove. An ancient-looking man sat enthroned in a gigantic ornamental chair that dwarfed his figure. He was wrapped in shimmering black robes. His deathly white face and short-clipped, gray-white beard contrasted starkly with his clothing. As Vivian approached, the wrinkled features smiled at her benignly.
LANCELOT Page 8
