“In a way, that was true,” said Tamur. “I have much to tell you.”
Now there grew a swelling clamor among some in the crowd.
“Chain him up!”
“Kill him!”
“Bring him to justice!”
“He is the beast! He must pay for what he has done!”
Tamur fell to his knees. “Mercy!” he beseeched. “Mercy, for I was not myself when I did all those things. Mercy, for I am myself again, Tamur, and not Gwylldahr, whom you so feared. I was turned into a beast, but it was Gwylldahr, not Tamur, who did all those things. Do not destroy a young life. Do not take from me what has only just been given back to me!”
There was much murmuring and dissent among the crowd, with some arguing for what they called justice while others cried out with demands for mercy.
Randour finally took three steps forward until he was at Tamur’s side and put his hand on Tamur’s shoulder. “I stand with Tamur,” he said. “Imagine yourself, each of you, turned into a beast. Imagine some sorcerer taking away your human form, alienating you from your family, taking away your power of speech. How would you react? How would you behave?”
Now the crowd’s noise turned from urgings against Tamur to urgings against the sorcerer who had turned him into Gwylldahr, but Tamur held his hand up. “There are two things to be considered,” he said in a deliberate voice. “One—in part, I brought the punishment on myself. Though no one deserves what happened to me—it was an excessive retribution, to be sure—in honesty I must admit that my actions against the wizard’s son provoked him. And, two—violence begets violence, and retaliation begets further retaliation. I do not know where the wizard lives now. He rightfully hid himself from me after transforming me. But have we not learned anything from King Arthur’s example? The Knights of the Round Table do good deeds and do not seek revenge. Should we not do the same?”
There was a general murmur of agreement among those assembled, and some even praised Tamur for his maturity and sensibility.
Randour turned to Wynfarad. “It seems we are in a bit of a pickle.”
“You have vanquished the beast! What could be the problem?”
“We need to bring back proof. I had thought to cut off the beast’s head, or at least his tail, and bring it back with us as proof that we have dispatched him. Now what will we show Arthur to prove our claim? There is nothing left of Gwylldahr at all. Even the tongue that I cut off has vanished into thin air.”
“Let us approach my old mentor. Malachi saw the whole thing. Perhaps he will come back to Camelot Castle with us and bear witness to what you have done.”
The exultant Tamur and his joyously sobbing parents were again embracing each other. The father continued to cry out, “My son! My son!” Leaving them to their reunion, Randour and Wynfarad crossed the square toward Malachi. As they did, Randour’s amulet beat louder and faster, ever louder and faster, until the thudding was unmistakable, not to mention embarrassing.
As they approached the sorcerer, something very strange occurred. A similar thumping seemed to be coming from the vicinity of Malachi!
Wynfarad began to make introductions. “Malachi, this is—” but he never got to finish his sentence.
Excitedly interrupting him, Malachi faced Randour with glowing eyes and asked him excitedly, “Do you have an emerald amulet embedded in your chest?”
“Yes. Yes, I do,” replied Randour, totally baffled.
In an echo of Tamur’s parents’ cry, Malachi sobbed and exclaimed, “My son! My long-lost son!”
He threw his arms around Randour, who at first was uncomprehending. Then at last he asked, “Are you telling me you are my father?”
“Take off your armor, and show me the amulet embedded in your skin and flesh over your heart,” the sorcerer said as he pulled off his own tunic. There, embedded in Malachi’s chest, was a perfect replica of the odd-shaped emerald amulet that Randour possessed.
“I knew that if ever I was fortunate enough to come face-to-face with you again, the magic amulets would call to each other and let me know that I had found you.”
“Why did you leave my mother?”
“I was very young when we coupled. I did not truly care for her, and she knew it. There was no question of our staying together. I gave her the amulet to put on any child born of our brief union. She sent me a message after you were born. She told me I had a son. She said, ‘You have a right to see your firstborn, but I know you have no wish to raise him.’ I quite agreed. I was young and irresponsible. I did not wish to be burdened with a son to rear. Yet I was wise enough to know, deep in my heart, that there would come a day when I would want to know you, would want to know where you were and how you were and who you were. I sent back a message to her, telling her that I would not come to see you, but imploring her to put the amulet on you as I had previously instructed. I had put a spell on it, and on the one I wear, so that they would grow into the skin and flesh of each of us, and so that they would respond to each other if they were in close proximity. I knew that if I was ever fortunate enough to encounter you later on, I would know you by the beating of our amulets.”
“So that is the magic of the amulet?”
“Yes.”
“And there is none other? No other power that it possesses?”
“That is all. Is that not enough?”
“Yes, my father. That is enough. But what about me? Do I myself possess any special powers? You sired me, and you are a wizard.”
“And your mother was not. If you have not seen any evidence of abilities at sorcery, perhaps you take after your mother more than me. It may be that you will need to accomplish good in this world on your own earthly merits, with no extra ‘help.’ Now, let me hold you, my son.”
Finally Randour returned the sorcerer’s enthusiastic embrace. “My father. My long-lost father. I have looked for you and looked for you, but I did not know who I was looking for, other than that he was a sorcerer.”
“And now you have found me, and I have found you. Now that I have found you, though, I do not want to let you far from my sight again.”
“Well, that is good, because we have a favor to ask you. Wynfarad and I have joined forces. We are a team, and we are also a couple. He is my squire. I am a knight, you know, and soon to be a knight at King Arthur’s Round Table. There is one little catch, however. Arthur has charged me with dispatching the beast as a condition of my joining his knights. I meant to bring back the beast’s head, or at least his tail, as proof that I had terminated him, but there is nothing at all left of Gwylldahr to show Arthur as proof. Lacking proof, the next best thing I can offer is a witness. Will you come to Camelot Castle with me as my witness?”
“I will go wherever you want me, my son.”
Tamur and his parents had neared Randour, Wynfarad, and Malachi as they talked, and now Tamur spoke up. “May I come along, too? I would wish to start training to become a knight, and perhaps an extra witness would do your cause good as well.”
The store of provisions in their sacks was low, and they had the trip to the castle ahead of them, but the grateful villagers of Holmdemarle eagerly plied them with all manner of foodstuffs for their return journey. Tamur lacked a horse, but one of the villagers even made a horse available to him. “I will be back,” he promised his parents. “You have not seen the last of me, but I am nineteen now, and it is time I made my own way through the world anyhow.”
“Godspeed, my son,” his mother said, touching his cheek.
Then Randour mounted Bolt, Wynfarad mounted Emma, Tamur climbed aboard his new horse, and Malachi got astride his own steed, and the four set off for Camelot Castle.
It was a long journey but a happy one, and at last they arrived at the drawbridge across the moat. “Sir Randour and his entourage have returned,” Randour cried out grandly. “I wish to see King Arthur.”
As the palace guards lowered the bridge, one of them informed Randour, “He is not holding court today.”
&n
bsp; “He will want to see me. Tell him I have dispatched the beast.”
“You have killed him?”
“I have transformed him.”
“Transformed him?”
“I will explain it all to Arthur and all of you.”
The servant, Ben, was in the grand hall when they entered. “Your former rooms are still available,” he said.
“Wynfarad and I would wish to share a room from now on,” Randour said boldly, “but do you have something with a wider bed?”
“I’ll see what I can find for you,” Ben said, with a hint of blush coloring his cheeks.
“My father, Malachi, needs a room, too, and so does Tamur.”
“Tamur?”
“You formerly knew him by another name.”
“I did?”
Randour left that question unanswered. He knew he’d be having to tell the story and explain the circumstances countless times in the foreseeable future.
They were barely settled in their quarters when Ben came back to round them all up again. “Arthur will receive you now.” Ben led them to Arthur and Guinevere, who sat regally on their thrones awaiting details of how Gwylldahr had been dispatched.
Randour preceded the others down the aisle that led to the thrones. “Here is your beast!” he said grandly, with a flourish toward Tamur. Tamur stepped forward.
“That is no beast,” said Arthur, looking perplexed.
“Ah, but I was, your majesty,” said the lad.
Randour told Arthur the story of his battle with Gwylldahr, and how the beast had transformed after Randour cut off his tongue. Then he allowed Tamur to take over telling the tale, beginning with how he had mistreated the wizard’s son and how the wizard had punished him and exacted revenge.
With an amused smile, Arthur said, “You don’t look that ferocious.”
“Well, how would you like it if someone turned you into a hideous beast? Wouldn’t you get your knickers in a twist and tend to lash out at people?”
“Since that is outside the scope of my experience, it is difficult for me to answer honestly.”
“Your Majesty, if it please you, I would like to train to become a knight. Now that I am done fighting with claw and flame, I would like to learn to fight with sword and lance.”
“You are a bit old to become a page. Do you have any skills or knowledge in the art of weaponry?”
“Oh, yes! I was fighting with the sorcerer when he transformed me. In truth, I was getting the better of him.”
“Well, if you can back up your words with deeds and prove yourself worthy, Sir Lionel is in need of a new squire.” Then Arthur turned to Randour. “You have done an inestimable service for the kingdom. How may I reward you?”
“I still wish to become one of your knights.”
“Consider it done. But surely there is some other reward you would desire?”
“If it is not too much to ask, I request two small houses. Nothing grand. Humble dwellings will suit.”
“You shall have them, and not that humble, either, but may I ask what need you have for two houses?” Arthur again wore an amused smile.
“One for myself to share with my beloved companion, who wishes to apprentice himself to Merlin, by the way, and the other for my father, whom I have just met after all these years and have brought back with me as a witness to prove my story.”
“Your father, eh?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. May I present Malachi?”
Malachi took a step forward. “I am honored, Your Majesty.”
“I am pleased to meet you, Malachi.
“Well, now that Merlin doesn’t need to deduce a means of dispatching the beast, perhaps he will favor us with his presence once again, and I shall see to it that he meets with you, Malachi, and you, Wynfarad, forthwith. As for you, Sir Randour, I shall have the royal tailor personally prepare your colors to wear into battle. Well done, my fellows, well done. Is there any other prize you desire?
Randour spoke up. “I already have the biggest and best prize I desire. That is the love of Wynfarad.”
“My blessings on your union. Now, let me order up a feast to celebrate the dispatching of the beast, and let us all prepare for a grand banquet. Tomorrow is the soonest I can task the royal cooks with preparing a suitably lavish repast. You four will be my guests and sit at the head of the table with Guinevere and me. Until I can have two suitable houses prepared for you three to live in, you are welcome to stay in guest lodgings here in the castle. You may as well stay, too, young lad, until you prove yourself at the jousts and become Sir Lionel’s squire. Then the responsibility of finding quarters for you will devolve onto him.
“I will see you all tomorrow night. Until then, I trust you can manage to amuse yourselves.”
“I think we can find something to do,” Randour said with a sly wink aimed in Wynfarad’s direction.
“Welcome to Camelot,” Arthur said, arising.
Randour already felt very welcome indeed.
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
No stranger to male/male stories, Diana Sheridan edited gay male sexzines for the better part of two decades under the nom de plume of “Dan Maxwell.” Though “Diana Sheridan” isn’t her true name either, it does reflect her true gender. In her own name, she has had numerous books published both in print and as e-books, is an accomplished editor of both books and magazines, and is comfortable switching gears to go from serious nonfiction to erotica in her work. Diana lives with her Significant Other, who is fully aware of and supportive of the many facets of her career.
Also by Diana Sheridan
Siren Allure ManLove: Finding Mr. Wright
Siren Classic ManLove: Mating Michael
Siren Classic ManLove: Caught in a Web of Intrigue
Siren Classic ManLove: Hitting the Hot Notes
Siren Classic ManLove: Trent’s Torrid Tempter
Siren Classic ManLove: Casting Call for a Lover
Siren Classic ManLove: Damian’s Lost Lover
Siren Classic ManLove: Survivors of the Virus Storm
Siren Classic ManLove: Island of Promise
Siren Classic ManLove: Love Among the Llamas
Siren Classic ManLove: Glimmering Waters, Sparkling Love
Available at
BOOKSTRAND.COM
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
The Emerald Knight Page 7
