Morgana's Handmaid and the Creature of the Dungeon

by Purple Hazel

  With the loss of his heavy cavalry, Lucius then ordered in his medium infantry. These were mostly Saracen mercenaries from the east and Italian Militia who were armed much like our own Norman allies. And heading out in front of these armored infantry came Italian paves crossbowmen. Their job was to attrition our bowmen while the Roman allied infantry marched up the hill toward our lines.

  These Italian bowmen wore a teardrop-shaped shield which slung over their back, so that when they were winding up their crossbow to give it enough tension to fire an arrow bolt, they could simply turn their backs toward us and deflect archery fire until they were ready to fire. Italian crossbowmen ran forward to within about a hundred fifty yards of our line and began loading their first round, not realizing that our brave longbowmen could hit them at this range by merely kneeling and firing in a wide arc.

  Therefore, when Arthur could see what Lucius was doing, he remarked to his generals that whenever the colorful red, yellow, black, or green shields could be seen turned backward toward us, they should order a massed volley from our longbows. Arrows would now be sailing through the air whilst the enemy crossbowmen loaded their weapons; and when the Italians were turning to fire, those arrows would already be striking their lines, cutting them down like ripened wheat before a farmer’s scythe.

  “Aye, when the first volley was launched,” reported Alguin, “the crossbowmen turned ’round, amazed to see a hail of arrows coming right at them…like a cloud of raining death.” In just one volley, their lines were peppered with projectiles and a third of the men fell. A hundred died or had fallen injured in just one volley! The remaining Italians soon broke and fled.

  But Lucius ordered the infantry charge anyway; and even expanded it. Arthur looked down in dismay to see a virtual sea of shiny helmets, shields, and spear points surging toward him. The main body was made up of Swiss pikemen, German armored swordsmen wearing chain mail and metal cuirasses, Saracen spearmen, Genoese militia, and even Merovingian axe men who carried throwing axes called Franciscans.

  These Merovingians had been recruited along the way during the march, when their lords had been given the choice of joining the campaign or face devastation of their lands. Their function was to get within thirty yards and fling axes over-handed at our lines to harass our spearmen. Axes were much more difficult to block than a hail of spears or javelins, you see, and they could demoralize our front line. Arthur waited and watched as the enemy infantry approached.

  “With devastating effect our longbowomen let off at least four or five volleys in only a few moments,” said Alguin excitedly, “demolishing the front ranks and killing off hundreds of the Emperor’s best troops.”

  Still outnumbered though, Arthur’s own knights and men at arms braced themselves for the inevitable impact. After the second volley, the enemy infantry suddenly broke into a running assault, which opened their ranks and exposed some of the less experienced troops to arrow fire. Now joining in with lighter bows, our archer militia fired high into the air, so that their arrows plunged straight down on top of the enemy and killed many of the more lightly armored soldiers upon impact.

  The longbowmen continued with volleys straight into the rushing enemy, killing off even more of their most elite troops. The longbowmen then fell back behind the shield wall which closed in front of them creating a barrier of wood and steel that the enemy would have to crash into. The charging Roman allies were already slightly winded from their march up that hill, Arthur knew. Moreover, they’d had to run the last fifty yards weighted down with helmets, spears, swords and armor-plated gear! Only question was, just how much more could they take before breaking?

  “The impact,” Alguin told me, “was said to be horrendous and our men most certainly did bend a bit from the force of it. Yet we held, and when pikes and spears poked out from the shield wall behind, the enemy took even more casualties as the line held firm. Bodies crumpled and fell before us. Falling bodies created a log jam, and enemy troops supporting the front-line assault worsened the problem by pushing from the rear and pinning their own comrades against our shields!” He’d seen this happen many times before in massed assaults.

  “Nevertheless, there were just so many!” he exclaimed. “Saracens jabbed and stabbed with their spears. German swordsmen shoved swords in between and sliced at our men holding them back. Italian militia poked spears over the tops of the shield wall to try and skewer our men from above. Slowly Arthur’s lines began to wither.” Time passed. Could we hold out? Arthur had to think fast.

  His generals heaved suggestions and frantically spit out ideas, some logical, some ambitious, and some downright absurd. Then Arthur decided to do something completely original and quite risky. Alguin delighted in telling me about it when Arthur returned, and to describe it, he had to draw it on the ground with a stick so I could picture it.

  “What our King devised that day was a bold and dangerous move that could have led to our annihilation,” said the former warrior. “Never seen it done before. But God’s bones, it worked!”

  Arthur ordered his generals to ride out to his flanks and order the men on the right and left to pull back steadily and slowly, rotating behind the second rank, whilst our center held firm. They should repeat this every few moments to peel the flanks back into a bow shape, he further commanded. This would create the illusion that we were breaking formation and falling back. Alguin understood the logic of it; however it was an extremely precarious tactic.

  “Quite perilous, if it had failed,” he stated. “This might cause the enemy infantry to slowly spread out, sensing they could get around us and encircle our forces. It was a dangerous plan because encirclement would most certainly mean slaughter for our troops,” warned Alguin. “But it might also lead to our soldiers consolidating to hold our weakening center, by spreading out the enemy who would round our flanks then be butchered by our cavalry.” The maneuver worked however, as the enemy gradually took the bait!

  Noble knights and Scottish horsemen were finally let loose; and as Emperor Lucius watched from afar he must have thought his troops were surrounding us! In reality, angry Scottish nobles and brave knights on horseback were slaughtering enemy infantry who made it around our corners. More time passed, and the unsuspecting Roman allied infantry continued to spread more thinly around our flanks where they were bludgeoned with maces and hand axes from armored cavalry who’d been spoiling for a fight all afternoon.

  The consolidation of our line slowly worked and the enemy center became exhausted. Finding no entry point, rear ranks of charging infantry merely boiled around our flanks only to be hammered with maces or lanced by Scottish noblemen. Gradually the best, most elite troops within the enemy onslaught fell dead and lighter troops following behind had no stomach for our battered shield wall. Some withdrew and others continued to frustrate themselves pushing and stabbing at our men. Finally, the attack seemed to fizzle.

  Seeing this, Emperor Lucius ordered a withdrawal to try and rally and reorganize his tired troops. Our archers continued firing on the fleeing soldiers however, massacring hundreds more as they pulled back. Therefore, the withdrawal turned into a headlong retreat and then very nearly into a rout.

  The tide had turned. Arthur did not pursue it further though. I guess in his older age he’d realized the consequences of ill-advised pursuits chasing down a fleeing enemy! The Roman allied army never did rally for another attack and by dusk, many of Lucius’s allies had melted away. Arthur’s forces had won!

  “The field bore out Arthur’s genius that day,” Alguin then told me with a proud grin. “He should have been annihilated, and instead the battlefield was littered with the dead and dying of nearly a thousand Roman allied troops.”

  Arthur was victorious and Lucius was later forced to abdicate his throne, having depleted the treasury only to return with next to nothing to show for it. Arthur could now seek terms for peace with Rome, and eventually go home to Camelot. But that of course would take quite a while longer.

  Inde
ed the loose ends took several more months to resolve; even though Arthur had decisively defeated the Roman Emperor and Lucius’s allies had abandoned him. Arthur’s victorious army marched on to the ancient capital where a delegation came out to inform him Lucius had already abdicated. A massive tribute had been compiled to compensate Arthur, which he shared equally with his allies. However, it would be nearly another year before he could make it all the way back to Normandy and set sail for home…

  Meanwhile, my poor Alguin was working around that hellish furnace back at Camelot, and I was so very worried about him. If only Arthur could have come back sooner! In fact, only when Arthur was reportedly back in Normandy; after many long months, did people at Camelot find out about his upcoming arrival. Peace had finally returned, and a tidy fortune in plunder and tribute was returning to England right along with our brave king.

  But, oh, what a wicked state of affairs he would find when he returned! Hearing of Arthur’s triumphant victory, the now deluded Mordred at first claimed rights to the throne by asserting he was indeed the only legitimate heir, sired through copulation between his mother Morgana and a now deceased yet credible English noble.

  It was futile of course. Upon Arthur’s return, such claims were groundless. Alive, Arthur was still most certainly king and therefore Mordred had to yield. No barons or dukes were willing to rise against him.

  And as for Mordred’s fate? He absconded from the castle with only his dear mother Morgana in tow, leaving behind most of his entourage and the last of Gwynevere’s handmaids. He took a small bodyguard and fled north to join his surviving half-brothers.

  “No, your former Mistress hath no desire to face her triumphant brother Arthur back at Camelot when he arrives,” laughed Alguin. “Instead she hath fled with her son to Orkney, no doubt to begin planning her next move.”

  Chapter 15

  Death of Alguin

  The whole kingdom could finally heave a sigh of relief. Our king had returned! Yet for me and Alguin, Arthur’s return meant only temporary joy. The price Alguin had paid—it had been far too great. He was declining in health rapidly.

  Though I’d tried to keep him healthy, he’d simply breathed so much black soot and ash working around that hellish furnace over the years that, well, there was just no way to prevent his decline. After Arthur’s return, Alguin and I lived together for only a few years before his lungs, I’m sad to say, finally gave out. He coughed and wheezed and eventually could barely breathe; so a grateful King Arthur gave him leave to retire and return to his cottage with me to live out what was left of his time on this earth.

  I knew he was dying of course, but just how long I’d still have him by my side, I couldn’t really know. Yet I was happier, more than anything truth be told, that he was finally home for good. Now I finally had an opportunity to care for my man night and day; as he withered and shriveled, aging rapidly and becoming feebler with every passing month. If only I could have saved him from that foul dungeon—gotten him away from that awful furnace! But what could I have done? Nothing really. It was his duty to serve his lord and king.

  As for me, I endeavored to keep him happy as best I could. Tried keeping him well-fed, rested, and comfortable as much as possible. He knew he was dying, too, and it broke my heart seeing such a powerful man realizing his time was almost at an end. He tried to be brave; but really, he didn’t need to, don’t you see? It was my pleasure to attend to him; and I truly did, day after day, all the way to the very end. God, how I loved that man!

  I rarely left his side, as we enjoyed the last few winters, the last few springs, and the last few summers of his life, together side by side practically night and day. But his decline was heart-wrenching for both of us. He became essentially bedridden most of the day and night; and slept only an hour or two at a time before he’d wake up in a fit of pitiful coughing and struggling to breathe. Yet the fits would eventually subside, and he could finally rest. Again I didn’t know just how long he’d be with me, so I treated every day with a renewed enthusiasm that comes from knowing it might be our very last sunrise or sunset together.

  As for life in the kingdom, well, it went on just the same. In that last spring Alguin was with me, I made only one trip down to the village by myself; and heard the latest disturbing news about Morgana and her son Mordred…

  Of course, my old Mistress certainly did emerge once again as a threat to the now aging King Arthur. Arthur’s knights had aged as well, and many had died off, leaving him alone in his castle for the most part, with only a few of his old chums to occasionally banter with about happier times and brave adventures they’d shared. Otherwise he became a lonely and very tired soul with no family or close friends available to see him very often, delegating much of the administration of his kingdom to his ministers and chamberlains. Discharged or exiled servants came back to serve him however, and eventually Camelot returned to something resembling normality. Yet it really wasn’t the same anymore.

  When Mordred finally resurfaced to challenge Arthur in combat for the throne, only a handful of his original throng of loyal knights were available for the kingdom’s defense. But amazingly enough when Arthur’s much smaller force faced the vastly superior allied army of Mordred—who’d somehow convinced or bribed many nobles in the north to join with him on the field at Camlann—Arthur’s men managed to slaughter them to the last man. Only seven of Arthur’s force survived the bloody fray to tell the tale; and unfortunately brave King Arthur was not among them.

  True, it was said that he personally slew Mordred in the epic climax of the fight, but it was nevertheless costly for him. Stories described Arthur dispatching his treacherous nephew at the expense of his own demise by receiving a deadly blow right before running Mordred through. He died a few days later on the isle of Avalon, which is actually just a dry point in landscape surrounded by marshes, hence its old Celtic name Ynys Afallach, or “island of apples.”

  As for Lancelot, he was said to have become a priest! And due to his regular fasting, he purportedly shrunk in size and stature to the point no one would have recognized him anymore. Of course he did return to our kingdom after Arthur’s death in an attempt to visit Gwynevere right before her death. He’d heard she was ill and dying, so he travelled from his home in Gaul to see her. Tragically he did not arrive in time. She’d expired only hours before he got there. Heartbroken and now denied the opportunity to seek her and Arthur’s forgiveness for all he’d caused; he, too, passed away a mere six weeks later.

  I was sad for them, but yet so very grateful to have my man Alguin with me for that entire last year he was alive. With Alguin at home, I became both nurse and wife. My big strong man became more and more fatigued. He was almost always short of breath; often coughing and wheezing. He’d accompany me to the garden that last summer he was with me, then sit on a stool and watch while I worked. If he laughed it turned into a cough. If he coughed, it turned into hacking up dark, bloody mucus.

  I did all the cooking and cleaning now, preferring to simply take him around, and if at all possible get him to sit down and relax. He always wanted to jump in and help but I’d calmly assure him I was glad to do it myself, and all the more pleased just to have him there with me. Eventually he didn’t dare raise any objection. Not that he was the quarrelsome type anyway. He did however like to giggle, and when that chuckling turned into coughing and wheezing, I’d feel terrible for him. But you know what? Once he’d recovered himself he’d smile and gaze at me lovingly every time.

  Alguin had absolutely no regrets about his life, and neither did I. We were enjoying the retired life together, you see, knowing he was fading away yet never talking about it. For that matter I did most of the talking eventually. Alguin would only nod in agreement. His eyes danced with joy and fondness over the memories I lovingly recalled for him. So many sentences I began with, “I remember one time when…” or “Remember that time when we…?” He loved hearing me recount all the stories from our nearly two decades together, and there wer
e so many great tales to tell, too!

  Yes, looking back, I loved being Morgana’s handmaid, despite what happened. It led to the wonderful life I had with Alguin. Moreover, unlike many widows who saw their husbands march off to war, never to see them return, I got to be with my man all the way to the very end. For that I’m deeply grateful.

  And then one day, it was over. He died one morning after a terrible night of struggling to breathe. Lying next to him, I could hear the last of his breaths, and in the end, he could no longer speak a word. He couldn’t even say goodbye. As he lay there speechless and breathing raggedly, I curled up next to him in bed and told him once more about the years we’d had together. I told him what he’d done for me as a woman, and then assured him that his long wait to be reunited with his lovely wife Allora was soon to be at an end.

  In Heaven, she was waiting for him right now I told him; and by God’s loving grace, they would be reunited to spend eternity together. God would forgive what he’d done to people in the dungeon, I promised him feebly, and it was indeed because of the compassion he’d shown me by making me a completely fulfilled woman, that God would welcome him into His kingdom.

  “Thou art truly a good man, and I love thee with all my heart, Alguin.” I said to him finally. Those were the last words I got to say to him, but it was really all I needed him to know.

  He wept softly, no doubt thinking of once again being with his lovely Allora in the afterlife. Or maybe I could hope, albeit selfishly, that he was sad to be leaving me alone after the experiences we’d shared together. After all, his time with Allora had been very short, compared to the years he spent growing old with me.

  No, his lips could not form words. He could not speak to tell me of his feelings. I’ll never really know what he might have said if he could have spoken; and I don’t care either. It’s never ever worried me. One day perhaps I’ll find out when I see him in the hereafter.