Tales From Camelot Series 1: PENDRAGON

by Paul Green

  "Regan, as I have said before, I love you more than life itself. Nothing ... shall ever prevent me from coming for you. Do you understand me? NOTHING!"

  With her eyes wide in alarm, Regan nodded her head.

  Then Pelleas did something even more alarming. He reached over towards the fire hearth and took his sword. And Regan's heart began pounding in her chest, wondering what he was about to do. Then, to her horror, Pelleas drew the long sharp edge of the entire length of the sword across the palm of his hand.

  "PELLEAS!!!" she screeched.

  Then, with blood gushing forth from his hand and running down his arm, Pelleas reached over towards Regan. And to her further horror, he pressed his bloody palm against the side of her face.

  "Regan, hear me." Pelleas repeated.

  With eyes wide in terror, Regan looked into his eyes with fear and trembling.

  Pelleas then spread the blood from his hand across first one side of her face and then the other; until both sides of her face were now covered with his blood. "This is my blood I now offer you, Wife. This is my most sacred oath. By my blood ... and by my life ... I shall come for you. And not even death itself can stop me. This I so swear."

  "Pelleas..." Regan whimpered, with tears streaming down her face.

  Finally Pelleas removed his bleeding hand from her face, and then showed her the terrible deep gash he had just inflicted upon himself. "Hear me, Wife; not a day shall go by where I shall not see this scar upon my hand. Not a day shall go by where I am not reminded of my blood oath. And not a day shall go by where I shall cease thinking of my great love for you. Do you understand?"

  Regan could do no more than nod.

  Pelleas looked at her for a time, until he was satisfied that she knew that he very much meant what he said. And then finally, the overpowering intensity faded from his eyes. And once more, the warmth returned.

  Pelleas then slid the sword back in its sheath and set it on the floor by the fire hearth. Then ... of all things ... he smiled at her. "And if you doubt me again, woman...", he then finished his sentence by holding up his other hand.

  Regan gasped and grabbed his good uncut hand. "DON'T ... YOU ... DARE!!!"

  *** *** ***

  Later that night, after Regan had bandaged his hand ... and washed the river of blood from his arm ... and made Pelleas change his bloodied clothes ... and cleaned up the pool of blood on the floor ... and changed her own bloodied clothes ... and washed her face ... repeatedly ... she finally took a deep breath and sat down cross-legged on the floor besides Pelleas.

  "Uh ... sorry about the mess." Pelleas grinned, sheepishly.

  For some reason, that struck Regan as funny and she laughed. "You, Uther Pendragon, are without a doubt, a passionate man if there ever was one."

  Pelleas shrugged. "There are some things I feel passionate about. You happen to be at the top of the list. And I am a man of my word."

  Regan shook her head at him. "I shall never doubt you again, Husband. But do me a favor, Pelleas. Next time, just say 'I promise'? It is less ... messier. Not to mention it would be much easier upon my frayed nerves."

  Pelleas continued looking at Regan intently without even a hint of a smile.

  "You ... can be a very intense man, Uther Pendragon."

  "That is the second time you have called me by that name."

  Regan shrugged. "I am ... trying it out. Trying to ... get used to it. Someday, I shall have to call you by that name."

  "Would you have me call you Igraine?"

  Regan began to chuckle.

  "What is so amusing?"

  "That we are having such a conversation; after being husband and wife for four weeks. Here we are, asking what names we should call each other by."

  Pelleas finally broke a smile. "Yes, that is ... funny."

  "You may call me Igraine, or you may call me Regan, Husband; whichever pleases you more."

  "Perhaps ... when I know you are safe from the threat of Gorlois of Cornwall, I shall learn to call you Igraine."

  Regan looked down at the ground for several long moments. "What you said to me ... some time ago ... about avenging my honor upon the Duke of Cornwall..."

  "I had meant what I had said."

  Regan sighed. "I believe you, now. And I believe you meant what you said, about ... you not resting until Gorlois knows your retribution. You even swore to it."

  "I did."

  "I must confess, Husband ... at the time you said it, I thought it to be mere ... bravado. Something a man would ... say. But you are different from other men. You would really do this thing."

  "He has forfeit his life. His days are numbered. I shall personally see to that."

  "Husband, this ... this is not a good thing."

  "What?"

  "A life of vengeance ... is not a good life. It is not a good way to live."

  "But what he has done..."

  "...has been done, Husband. It is in the past. It is behind me. I have a new life before me. And I have a new husband with me. I do not wish for a life filled with malice and vengeful thinking. It is not a good life."

  "I cannot let his crimes go unpunished!"

  "Then let him know justice, but not vengeance! Do you understand the difference?"

  "I ... understand the difference."

  "Think on my words, husband. That is all I am asking."

  "I shall ... consider upon your words, Wife. If you shall consider upon my request."

  "What request would that be?"

  Pelleas smiled at Regan.

  "Oh, you cannot be serious!"

  "Did you not say I am a passionate man?"

  "Pelleas! Your hand! You all but sliced your hand in two!"

  "My left hand shall mend." Pelleas shrugged with a mischievous grin. "It is a good thing I am right-handed."

  "PELLEAS!!!"

  Pelleas chuckled as he reached over and grabbed Regan around the waist with his good hand, causing her to laugh as she became ticklish. "Pelleas, I do not believe you!"

  He smiled and kissed her, and then leaned back. "If you are weary, I understand."

  "No, it is not that, dear Pelleas. And may I just say you a wonderful, tender and gentile husband and I love you very much? I could never say 'no' to you."

  "I like the sound of that." Pelleas grinned.

  "It is just that..."

  "What is it, Regan? Does something else trouble you?"

  "Not ... trouble me ... exactly."

  "Then what is it?"

  "Well ... I suppose this is as good a time as any. Do you remember how I just said a few moments ago that I have a new husband with me and a new life before me?"

  "I have not forgotten your words, Wife."

  "You should also know, Husband, that I also have a new life ... inside of me."

  Pelleas' eyes suddenly grew as large as the fire hearth.

  Regan smiled at him tenderly as she touched her hand to her stomach.

  "REGAN!" he exclaimed, breathlessly.

  "Yes, Husband. I am with child."

  "How ... when..."

  Regan laughed. "Did you just ask me how? I think you know 'how'. As far as when? Surely you jest. I mean, for the last four weeks you have..."

  Pelleas surprised Regan when he suddenly grabbed her in his arms and hugged her tightly. A little too tightly.

  "Uh ... Husband ... perhaps not so ... uh ... you are squishing me."

  Pelleas chuckled as he released his powerful grip. "Forgive me, Regan. I am a bit overjoyed at this wonderful news."

  Regan looked at Pelleas for a long time; peering deep into his eyes. And Pelleas saw there was still something else troubling her. "Regan? What is the matter?"

  "You ... may not be so overjoyed, Husband."

  "What!? Why would you say that?"

  "The child ... may not be..." and then to Pelleas' surprise, he saw a look of shame on her face followed by a tear.

  "Reagan! What is it!? Please tell me!!"

  "I ... I do not have a good
... record of birthing. The child ... may not be ... in fact, there is a good chance it may not be..."

  "What!? The child may not be what, Regan!?"

  Reagan took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "There is a good chance I may not bear you a son."

  "A son? Okay. And?"

  "And ... wait, did you hear what I said?"

  "You said it may not be a son. It may be a daughter. What is the problem, Regan?"

  Regan's eyes opened in surprise. "You ... would not be displeased about ... a ... daughter?"

  "What!? No! Of course, not! Why would that matter!? If it is a boy, he shall become a Knight and a great swordsman and warrior! If it is a girl...", Pelleas grinned, "...she shall become the most spoiled daughter in all the world."

  Regan looked at Pelleas in wonder. For it was the last remaining fear that she had been holding onto for a very long time. And then in an instant, she burst into tears and began to sob.

  Pelleas had no clue as to what brought that all on. "What!? What did I say!? Forgive me, Regan, but what did I say!? Can I take it back!?"

  And in the midst of her sobbing, Regan somehow managed to laugh at the same time.

  Which caused Pelleas to be even more confused.

  Pelleas never did get his answer that night, as to what caused her to start crying like that, all of a sudden. But one thing he did get ... was his wish for more passion in front of the fire hearth.

  Chapter 15

  Eight months later

  As Regan's labor pains increased, so did Pelleas' worry. But Ceola seemed to know what she doing and didn't seem at all alarmed. She asked Alger to take Pelleas outside while she prepared Regan for the birthing, but Pelleas was insistent about remaining at Regan's side. Eventually Pelleas won.

  "Husband..." Regan smiled weakly, once the last round of birth pangs finally passed. "You are still here."

  "I had told you I would not leave your side. Yes, I am still here."

  "You should not be here." Ceola frowned. "The birthing room is no place for a man."

  "I appreciate your opinion, Ceola." Pelleas replied. "But Regan has not known the most ... 'pleasant' of times of birth experiences in the past. I have promised this time would be different. I shall remain with my wife."

  "This may not be a 'pleasant' experience for you, Pelleas." Ceola argued.

  "Regan is strong." Pelleas countered. "To have known the things she has known and still be ... Regan; my wife has proven herself to be strong. And my being here shall give her more strength. I shall remain with my wife."

  Regan smiled at Ceola. "He shall not budge, Ceola. He is a most determined man."

  "As are you, dear." Ceola sighed. "After learning these months what you have been through ... with that evil Duke at Cornwall ... you are a most determined woman. You two are fit for each other."

  Pelleas looked at Regan, slightly confused. "Was that a compliment? Or an insult?"

  Regan managed a small chuckle. "I believe it was both, and it was neither. It was..."

  Suddenly Regan's eyes widened.

  Ceola rushed over to Regan's side. Then she turned and faced Pelleas. "It is time. And it is time for you to leave."

  But Pelleas still refused to leave.

  "Then stay out of my way." Ceola frowned. Then waved Pelleas towards the head of Regan's bed. "Stay ... over there, somewhere."

  Pelleas nodded and knelt on the ground beside Regan as he took one of her hands in his.

  As Regan began to cry out in pain, Pelleas whispered in her ear, "I shall not leave you. You shall not be alone."

  Regan nodded as tears came to her eyes, and the sharp pains of delivery began.

  Moments later, Regan screamed.

  And then it was over.

  *** *** ***

  It was a simple birth, really. With no problems or complications, it went unusually quick and was over in less than an hour.

  It was late summer, and a new Pendragon had been born.

  "Regan?" Ceola smiled tenderly as she brought the tiny infant around to her. "You have borne a son."

  As Ceola lay the tiny infant in Regan's arms, tears of joy were streaming down the faces of both mother and father. And after Ceola kissed Regan on the cheek and congratulated Pelleas, she left the room to give them some time alone.

  Regan then turned towards Pelleas and showed him the child. "Husband, I have made you a son!"

  Pelleas nodded and looked at the tiny infant in awe. "I ... I am without words. This child you have made ... is beautiful beyond words. Well done, wife."

  "You are pleased, Husband?"

  "As I told you, Regan; whether it be son or daughter, I would be pleased. You have done a beautiful thing, Wife."

  Then he leaned over and kissed Regan, and then in turn kissed the infant on the forehead.

  "Although..." Pelleas started to say with a frown.

  "Is something wrong, Pelleas?"

  "There is a small problem."

  "Oh, no!"

  "In truth, Regan; I had been expecting a daughter. I had arranged with the seamstress to make a ... ahem ... here, I shall show you." And Pelleas reached over to a nearby chest of drawers, and from the bottom drawer he pulled out a very tiny...

  "It is a dress."

  "What!?"

  "I had meant it as a surprise! I was going to surprise you! With a new ... dress ... for our new ... baby ... daughter."

  Regan hid a smile with her hand. "Husband, babies ... do not wear ... dresses. Even ... girl babies."

  "Oh. The seamstress said the same thing. But she is elderly, so I thought, perhaps ... well anyway, I insisted. But you tricked me and have made a boy." he teased. "Do you think they make armor in his size?"

  In spite of her exhaustion, Regan laughed. "You, Uther Pendragon, are a most amazing man."

  "Is ... that a compliment or an insult?" Pelleas grinned.

  "Give me your hand."

  Pelleas started to offer her his right hand.

  "No, the other one."

  Pelleas shrugged and offered her his left hand; the one with a long deep white scar across his palm. Then Regan took his hand and placed the scared palm against the side of her face. "You stayed with me. You did not leave me."

  "As I said I would."

  "Thank you, Pelleas. You will never know how much that meant to me."

  "This, Regan, is what it is to bear a child in love. I love you, Wife."

  "And I love you, Husband."

  "May I ... hold our child?"

  "Of course!" Regan smiled. "It is for you to hold him and to name him. You are his father."

  Pelleas sighed in wonder as she placed the tiny infant into his large hands. "I am a father. I have a son. This is a most ... wondrous thing. Regan! You and I ... we have a son!"

  "Have you chosen a name for our son?"

  "I had chosen a name for our daughter." Pelleas grinned, sheepishly.

  Once again, Regan laughed. "Very well. Before you choose a new name for our son, I must know what you had chosen for our daughter."

  "It is too bad. I had rather liked the name I had chosen."

  "Tell me already! What was to be the name of our daughter?"

  "Morgan le Fay."

  Regan looked at Pelleas in surprise. "Truly!? That is a most ... beautiful ... but ... unusual name!"

  "It means 'fairy spirit'. You had told me you believed our child was conceived upon our wedding day, beneath the white willow. That was a magical moment, one which I have never forgotten. It was during that magical moment when our two spirits conceived the spirit of our child. The name seemed ... fitting."

  Regan gave Pelleas a tender smile. "Husband, I believe you have a romantic side. Now that I know the meaning, it is indeed a most beautiful name. And yes, it was a magical time for me, as well; I, too, have never forgotten it."

  Pelleas then looked at his new son and smiled. "But now ... it seems our moment of magic has made a son, rather than a daughter."

  "It is for you to name our son, Husba
nd. It is our way."

  "In truth, Regan, I am unsure what to name him."

  "What does your name mean, Husband?"

  "Which name? Pelleas? Uther? Pendragon?"

  Regan smiled. "You are my husband. I should know this. Tell me all of them."

  "Very well. My name of exile: Pelleas, means ... 'Fisher King'. I ... like to fish."

  Regan gasped.

  "What? What is it?"

  "I ... I once had a dream ... long ago ... about ... The Fisher King."

  Pelleas raised his eyebrow. "A ... dream?"

  Regan shook her head. "Nothing. Never mind. It was nothing. It was only a dream. And Uther? What is the meaning of 'Uther'?"

  Pelleas shrugged. "My father named me Uther. It means 'fearsome'."

  Once again, Regan's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh."

  "What? Did you have a dream about that, too?"

  "It ... it is nothing. It is unimportant."

  "Regan?" Pelleas asked. "Do you know something? Some say, a name determines what you shall become. Is there something I should know?"

  "Nothing. Never mind. It was nothing. It was only a silly dream. What about Pendragon? Who gave you this name?"

  "Our father gave my brother and I, our birth names. The name of my brother Ambrosius means 'immortal'. My father named me 'fearsome'. Our father was a strong and proud man. He was a powerful warlord before he became High King. These are names which such a strong father would call his sons. As for our chosen names, those are names which we as royals choose for ourselves when we become of age. Ambrosius chose the name 'Aurelianus' for himself, meaning 'golden'. As heir to the throne, it was my brother's belief he would usher in a new 'Golden Age' to the realm.

  Regan raised her eyebrow.

  Pelleas chuckled. "Ambrosius has always thought fairly highly of himself."

  "So it would seem."

  "He may be proud and uh ... assertive; and perhaps just a bit ... ruthless; but Ambrosius is not haughty or conceited. My brother is a great military strategist and he believes he is destined for great things. And I, for one, happen to agree with him."

  "You, Pelleas, are different from your brother."

  "That is why he is destined to be king. I, a good king, would not make."

  "I think you might be surprised what would make for a good king, Uther Pendragon."

  "What is that supposed to mean?"