Introibo ad Altari Dei

So the morning Mass began. Lancelot was beside himself with a grief gnawing at his chivalrous soul.  Gwenivere had said goodby. He was now alone as he had almost always been, only this time there was a deep hurt that went with this loneliness.

Lancelot had received all of the kudos, all of the praise from his fellow knights. He had gotten through some real squeakers. Sometimes when he thought of his past victories and the comradery he had felt with Tristan and Palidan and, even Marhaut, he felt pride.

All at once, Lancelot left the knight's chapel at Camelot and mounted his steed, which was always prepared for journey by his squire Tomasta, he headed toward the northwest. He really did not know where he was headed, but it was time to go.  And the weather just happened to be clear with a light wind.  He had his full suit of armor with him and all his colors.

He stopped to rest in the wood and grabbed his lunch. Tomasta was fat and thought everyone should be fat. Lancelot laughed when he saw all the food, turkey, more or less fresh and the dried venison butt.  He had happened to alight right next to an apple tree so his  needs were naught.  Which was fine because except for the hunger, he felt nothing.  And then to sleep.

Morganna, the King's half sister, happened by with her retinue of three fair damsels.  She immediately espied the sleeping knight under the moonlit sky and cast a spell upon him. The retinue, with much trouble, laid the knight upon his steed and they all proceeded to Morganna's summer place in the hills.  The he-men of the castle transported Lancelot into the dungeon.

Lancelot awoke in the filth of the dungeon and had no idea where he was.  He had felt so empty but this was worse than under the apple tree next to the flowing field.  He had been held captive before, but by enemy soldiers.  Enemy soldiers always had some respect for the knight, but this, this was immobilizing. He decided to just sit and wait. But, lo there was a sound from the next cell.

A dwarf was sitting in the next cell watching our hero carefully.  Who art thou? asked the gremlin.

I am Lancelot du Lac, from Camelot and I know not how I arrived here or into whose custody.

I am Fern, of the locks, and I was brought here weeks ago.  You are the only other resident here besides me. I was brought here to provide entertainment to the Lady of the Castle.

Kind of a strange place to provide entertainment my little friend. You must have disappointed in your delivery.

I was relaying the problems with the Lord's regimen when the Lady intervened and had me taken to this place.

Lancelot began to laugh. He roared. It seemed to take away the morose from his soul for a short while.

What do you laugh at gentle knight?

You are the ugliest little person I ever saw.

First, the dwarf was taken back, he scowled.  Then as he saw Lancelot, rolling on the floor, the little guy started to laugh.

I have seen less scars on faces of cattle that had been attacked by butchers.

Lancelot stopped his riot.  He looked sternly as his cell mate, and then began laughing again.

What is your name, gentleman of the adjoining cell?

The two then began lying to each other and telling stories of young maidens and of sleeping in church and of collecting food for a hasty dinner from a local inn without paying.

A good time was had by all.

The dwarf had belonged to a traveling troop of entertainers who would appear at fairs, at castles and at village festivities. They would perform Aristophanes, or Plautus or Terence.

My mother in law was so ugly, her face constantly pleaded to sit down.

Lancelot, who had contained himself, burst into laugh again.

After a while of commiserating, the two became serious.  How best to escape these ugly surroundings, the two discussed many avenues for this goal and came upon a plan.

The eight foot guard came down with grog and gruel at ten.  He looked at Lancelot and scowled:

Where is the puny soul who was residing next to you?

I just awoke from a deep sleep given me by your Lady.  I know not of any puny person.

The stupid guard opened up the adjoining cell, not realizing that Lancelot and the little person had removed a bar separating the cell.  WHEN WILL THESE IDIOTS UNDERSTAND THAT INFRASTRUCTURE MUST BE ADDRESSED ON A REGULAR BASIS?  Lancelot thought.

The dwarf began biting on the guard's right leg. Really big teeth for a very short guy. And Lancelot jumped on the guard and forced his head into the wall.  The guard at first screamed and then collapsed on the floor. Fern and Lancelot grabbed the keys held by the gorgon and proceeded through the maize that was this penitentiary. It was dark but the moonlight shown bright down here for some reason.

They proceeded upstairs and on the winding staircase they began to hear voices.  They reached the light and looked through the door of the staircase. Lancelot was about to go into the sitting area where the four women were when Fern stopped him.  

We must create a distraction first.  Fern then reached into his pocket and took out a huge rat.
Lancelot looked askance. Watch this said Fern and he threw the rodent toward the women.
The ladies arose and began to scream and scurry around.  

Lancelot and Fern then went down the east hall and found their way to freedom. Just as they were outside, hoping to find horses and gear, they heard a loud commotion from inside and they saw men mounting horses and the two headed toward the forest.

The two ran and ran until they had reached the inner part of the forest, with the sound of horses growing louder and louder. Just then, Lancelot was shot in the back with an arrow and Fern, with tears in his eyes fled alone into the darkness.

The horsemen came upon the lifeless body of Lancelot.  

I do not wish to take the time to carry this smelly corpse all the way to the castle. I am not paid to do such things.

Let us take his clothes and bring them back to Morganna as proof of our victory.

What about the smelly dwarf?

He is of no consequence.  The beasts of the forest will have their way with him.

With that consensus, the riders stripped Lancelot of his clothes and left him naked with an arrow sticking out of his back.

The next morn, a hermit, a sacred hermit, was foraging for a breakfast squirrel and came upon the body of the lifeless knight. Oh no, not another one, said the hermit.  That is three is five years. Why do they always come here to disturb my slumber. Damn.

After the hermit crossed himself he went back to his cabin in the woods and brought back a cart and carried Lancelot back to his abode.

Once he had the knight on his floor, he removed the arrow, with much pain, and dressed the wound with frog piss and a mushroom mixture prepared from ingredients he always hoarded from his forest.

It was, after all, his forest.  No one, except soon to be corpses ever showed up here.  He could hunt for his small needs, find apples and fruits of all natures, retrieve fish from a local stream no one knew about and watch CSPAN all day.

A week later, Lancelot began to retrieve consciousness. Where was he now. And where was Fern.These story books become so confusing.

The knight awoke covered with blankets and there was a roaring fire in the fire place. The smell of the room he found himself in was glorious, firs and the pine tar burning in the fire. The old man looked at him sternly.

And what pray tell did you do to deserve this, sir?  As he said sir, he laughed.

Lancelot, looked up at him and the hermit knelt down to give him sustenance from his soup. The knight at first choked some as he took the soup and then gobbled it all at once. Oh my goodness this is good, Lancelot said.

The hermit retrieved more soup and Lancelot thought he had never tasted anything so fine. He began to smile.

Lancelot stayed with the hermit for a two months after he had awoken. He had no idea how long he had been there before that. By the last twenty days of his internment in this one room cabin, Lancelot had helped the hermit hunt and cut wood and find fine herbs in the forest.  In fact the knight helped the hermit build a hut next door to his cabin and covered it with sod and leaves, after making an adobe type wall surrounding the structure from the mud and grass.

The hermit prepared scanty clothes made from skins of animals and some of his weavings, and sent him off with a hearty, hi ho, hi ho.  You shall find a new way, he said to Lancelot.
                        
Lancelot smiled, and he felt content.

He foraged through the woods, checking the angle of the sun and watching the shape of the wind as he had learned as a child in Brittany. And at once he came upon a priory in the last portion of the woods that separated him from society.

He knocked on the great door, at least a greater door than the small cabin in the woods presented.He knocked again and a large, scarred man appeared in a robe. He looked askanse at this man of the woods.  They would come from time to time. He would give them sustenance because that is what his Order called for. But then he would send them on their way with rosaries and a prayer and a lie that the soldiers of the king hated their order and would soon send an army to burn it down.  In short, he hated visitors.

What pray tell may I do for you stranger?

I am but a poor beggar who wishes sustenance for a day as I prepare to meet my maker.

Then you are welcome, traveler.  Enter and we shall give you sup from our table.