Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Gundam Wing and the Knights of the Round Table ❯ Learning New Ways ( Chapter 2 )

Well, the boys are settling into King Arthur's court, but they're going to have to learn a whole new way of life.  But trust me, they're not giving up all of their old, wicked ways!

Chapter 2: Learning New Ways

Dinner in King Arthur's court was a loud, raucous, entertaining event.  The tables groaned under enough roasts to depopulate a forest; there were enough loaves of bread to retile the floor; and wine and beer were brought in by the cask.  Musicians, singers and jugglers moved between the tables, dodging servants and dogs as they plied their trades.

It was louder than the launching bay of a mobile suit carrier.

Duo's eyes were glowing.  "Would you look at that?" he exclaimed.

"Think you might get enough to eat?" Heero asked dryly.

"Oh, yeah!"

"There are no vegetables!" Wu-Fei stared in dismay.

"Sure there are," said Duo.  "There's a bowl of boiled potatoes right there."

"That's a tuber, not a vegetable."

"Close enough."

"There's nothing green."

"Look, there's green all over that loaf of bread over there."

"I may be sick."

Percival stood up and waved them over to his table.  "Come join us, my friends, and meet the finest knights in England!"

The five made their way over to Percival's table.

"Hoy! Make room!" shouted one burly knight, and he unceremoniously shoved several of his colleagues off the bench where he was sitting.  He leered at Quatre.  "Why don't you come sit in my lap, pretty boy?  I'll give you a few pointers on the finer arts of jousting."

"Aye, his is a fine point, all right!" shouted another and the table exploded into laughter.  "Come sit with me, pretty fellow, and I'll show you how a man plays the sport!"

This was followed by several more indecent invitations and Quatre flushed.

"Gentlemen, please!" Percival cried out.  "You're causing our guests embarrassment! Where are your manners?"

The rude remarks degenerated into coarse laughter and the five took seats without further incident, except for a little butt-pinching and thigh-fondling.

Except for Heero, who put an end to it on his part by slamming the face of the knight next to him into his trencher.

"Now sir," he said calmly, while slowing suffocating the man in his plate of semi-raw meat, "I'm sure you put your hand on my ass to help me sit down, but I must take exception to having the inside of my thigh grabbed.  I suggest you keep your hands to yourself."

"Um, Heero?" Trowa said from across the table, "I don't think he can breathe."

"Details."  Heero shrugged and sat down.

The man beside him lifted his face from his food, gasping for breath.  "Forgive my momentary lapse," he wheezed out.  "Entirely accidental, I assure you."

"Yeah, whatever," Heero grumbled.  "Duo, pass the damn meat before you take all of it!"

"They have no utensils at all!" Wu-Fei moaned.  "Everyone's eating with their hands!"

"So?" Duo mumbled around a mouthful of venison.

"I don't think any of these people have bathed since the last time they got rained on."

"What's that you say, youngling?" exclaimed a thick-bodied knight with a bushy red beard.  "Have you no common sense?  You can catch your death with unseasonable bathing."

"Aye, listen to Sir Borridin," another knight called out.  "I had a cousin who bathed THREE TIMES in the same month.  He died of a fever before the next full moon."

There were solemn nods all around the table.

"T'was as well he passed, though," the knight continued, "as there were those speculating he might be a warlock, with all that passion for cleanliness.  His family was right glad to put him to rest in holy ground, and lay such rumors to rest as well."

There were more solemn nods and Wu-Fei looked scandalized.  "So how frequently does the typical man bathe?"

"Well now," said Borridin, "I myself bathed just last spring.  If I don't get caught in a downpour before then, I expect I'll need another bath this fall."

"Aye, two baths a year sounds right," said another.

"Unless you get rained on, then you can skip one," added a third.

"True, true."

Wu-Fei looked like he was going to faint.

"Now women, on the other hand, they're mad for bathing."

"Aye, that's the truth.  Why, they'll bathe as often as once a month!"

"They say it's because of their moon cycle."

"Women are mysterious, though, so it's best not to pry too much."

"And touchy!  Say the wrong thing at the wrong time and you're doing without for a fortnight."

"Unless one is lucky enough to meet a handsome lad like you!"  The knight leaned forward and winked at Quatre, grinning lustfully.

Quatre shied back.  "Oh, look!" he pointed desperately.  "Actors!"

"Hah!  These buffoons!" roared Borridin. "If naught else, the pitiful-ness of their performance will set you laughing."

He was right.  The performers were pitiful.  The only highlight was the interlude, when a sword-swallower entertained the crowd while the actors changed for the second act.  But for the rest of the performance, the diners roared with laughter and frequently pelted the actors with food, enjoying it particularly when a well-aimed turkey leg banked off the head of one performer and sent him sprawling head-over-heels in mid-speech.

Trowa frowned.  "Performers should be treated with more respect," he muttered under his breath.

"But you have to admit, they're not very good," said Quatre.

"Perhaps not, but still…"

When the play ended, to a chorus of jeers and a shower of gnawed bones and boiled potatoes, Trowa stood.

"Excuse me, but I'm just going to go speak to them for a moment.

Trowa approached the troupe where they stood clustered beside a wall.  The man who had been hit by the turkey leg was nursing a bruise on his forehead as he scolded a buxom young woman with fluffy brunette hair.

"If you'd'a shown some tit like I told ya, Bernadette, maybe they'd'a thrown some coin, too!"

"Yeah, why don't I just straddle a couple while I'm at it?" she snapped back.  "I ain't a fuckin' whore!"

Then she promptly belied that statement by turning to Trowa with her breasts thrust forward.  "Was our performance to your liking, good sir?"

Trowa bowed to her slightly.  "No offense, but your troupe seems to lack polish."

She flushed angrily.  "Why, you'll find none better in all of Camelot!"

"Somehow, I don't doubt that.  But if it's coin you're after, I can show you a better way to earn it."

The sword-swallower leered at him.  "She may not be a whore, but I'll ply my trade with you.  And maybe not even for coin!  You look to be a tasty little tidbit."

Trowa lowered his eyelids.  "I'm talking about teaching you to tumble.  I am very skilled in this area and I would be happy to show you how."

"And an acrobat, too!" the sword-swallower exclaimed.  He licked his lips hungrily.  "Sir, my name is Horace, and if you'll lie with me this night, I will gladly give you the meager contents of my purse."

Trowa sighed and trained his attention on Bernadette and the others.  "What do the rest of you have to say?"

The man who had been scolding Bernadette stepped forward.  "I am Tobias, director of this troupe.  Your kind offer is appreciated, but," he scowled at Horace, "we can ill afford to pay for such generous services."  He glared at Bernadette again.

"You don't have to pay me," said Trowa.  "I just want to help."

Tobias smiled broadly.  "Well, far be it from me to insult such a fine gentleman by spurning such a chivalrous offer.  I accept!"  He clasped Trowa's hand in a firm handshake.  "We make camp in the courtyard just under the north wall.  Shall you join us tomorrow?"

"It will be my pleasure."

"Excellent!  Excellent!"  He began herding his people toward the exit.  "Come, come, my children! Let us get a good night's rest.  Tomorrow marks an exciting new beginning for us!"

Quatre came up beside Trowa as the troupe left.  "They seemed glad to hear whatever you had to say."

"I said I would teach them to tumble."

"Say what?"

"Acting is clearly not their forte.  Perhaps a more physical kind of performing will work better."

"You can take the boy out of the circus…" Quatre mumbled.

"What was that?"

"Nothing.  Look, the rest of us are heading back upstairs.  Those knights are getting pretty drunk and it's getting hard to keep their hands out of our pants.  Duo's afraid Heero might kill somebody."

"Ok."

On the way back to their suite, Wu-Fei cornered a serving girl.  "Bring me a bucket of hot water, would you, please?"

"Of course, sir."  She curtsied prettily and hurried away.

As soon as he had his water, Wu-Fei promptly stripped naked and began scrubbing his bare skin vigorously with his wet undershirt as a washcloth, muttering the whole time about fleas and giant, smelly, bearded men.

"Hey, Fei, let me do that for you," Duo volunteered. "I'll wash your back."  He took Wu-Fei's shirt and began scrubbing his back, working his way steadily lower.

"I appreciate the help, Duo," Wu-Fei said dryly, "but I can wash my own ass."

"Sure you can, but would you enjoy it as much?"

Wu-Fei turned around and grabbed for his shirt.  "Give me that!" he snapped. "I can do it myself!"

Duo danced backward, waving the shirt in front of him and grinning broadly.  "Come and get it!"

"Dammit, Duo!" Wu-Fei shouted and leaped on him.  They tumbled to the floor, wrestling for it.  Somehow, Duo managed to get both of Wu-Fei's hands knotted inside the shirt.

"Well now," Duo smiled and licked his lips slowly.  "I have a wet, naked Wu-Fei all tied up.  Anyone care to join me, or do I get him all to myself?"

"Pervert!" Wu-Fei grunted.  "Get off me!"

"I'm going to bed," Trowa announced.

"Me, too," echoed Quatre.

Duo grinned at Heero.  "You want to have some fun before he dries off?"

"Don't you ever think about anything else?"

"He's naked!"

Heero tipped his head to one side.  "Good point.  Grab his feet.  Let's take him to my room."

"Guys!"  Wu-Fei struggled as they picked him up.

"Oh, quit whining, Fei!  You know you want to."