Other Fan Fiction ❯ Pokegirls: The Savage World ❯ Grail and Lance ( Chapter 3 )

Grail and Lance

The Grail standard of Avalon snapped in the wind, gold on black, as another group of riders approached the Hill of Carrock. Lisa Montgomery stretched behind her folding desk and scratched under her mail. The roll was nearly full, and the Knights of Avalon could ride before nightfall. As the riders drew closer, she saw that they bore no shields or armour. The knights at the base of the hill made way for the newcomers. A few, mostly Norwich natives, bowed. The riders– all men– rode within a few yards of Lisa's desk before dismounting. One knocked her shield over as he went past.

The slim, weasel-faced man who led the party drew a roll of parchment from his sleeve. Oily hair hung down in thick bangs that nearly obscured his eyes. ‘My lord father commands you send all available troops to aid him in recovering lands seized by foreign freebooters who have landed on our eastern shores,’ the envoy began. ‘These pirates have taken our hunting grounds and evicted or put to the sword dozens of loyal men and Pokégirls. As per the terms of your Order’s charter, you are required to–’

‘Don’t quote the law at me, Ralph Remming,’ Lisa snapped. ‘This muster was held on orders from Avalon. The dead are rising in Sussex, there’s a breeding Widow in Kent, and the Scots have been seen in force as far south as Yorkshire. The Order rides against them. We leave only enough knights behind to maintain peace on the roads.’

‘Nonetheless, you are required to render aid to any lawful lord who requests it. Is that not so?’

‘It is so,’ Lisa said grudgingly. She looked at the roll on her desk and shouted, ‘Mike Summers, report to the Commander’s tent!’

The blue-haired knight bounded up the hill with one hand on her sword to keep it from swinging too much. She tucked her helm under one arm and saluted. ‘You called, sir?’

‘Sir Michelle, your company will accompany Master Remming northeast to investigate his claim that foreign freebooters have seized his father’s land. You will rejoin us in Sussex after this mission is completed. Gather your troops: you ride within the hour.’


A spring rose deep beneath the Isle of Avalon. A small chamber had been built around it long ago, though no one remembered its building. The spring’s faint glow was the only source of light. The Lady of Avalon sat beside it with a plain cup in her hand and a loaf of bread beside her. Even in her plain woolen dress, she remained regal and imposing. She said to her guest, ‘The years have treated you well. How stands your quest?’

‘It is done,’ the black-cloaked man replied. ‘It was not easy to find, and the guardians were formidable, but I have accomplished the Quest. Even so, I must obey the prophecy and the Grail will return to Britain by hands other than mine. I still say that one of your Knights should have been sent on this quest.’

The Lady shook her head. ‘A lone woman, even armed with steel and magic, cannot travel far in this world. It will be a long time before that changes. And there is the prophecy to consider.’

‘I have taken enough of your time, Milady. Until we meet again, stay well.’ The man rose, bowed to the Lady, and mounted the stairs.

A young catgirl acolyte entered the chamber a few minutes later. She bowed to the Lady and asked, ‘Who was that man?’

‘An old friend. He has not been on the Isle since before you were born, and may not return until you are a grandmother. He knows the Grail prophecies and has worked to their fulfillment.’

‘Another Old One?’ The acolyte approached the Lady and held out a woolen shawl. The Lady wrapped it around her shoulders and led the girl to the spring before replying.

‘Yes. And a Briton, though he was raised across the sea. Come, it is time for your lessons. Look into the spring and tell me what you see.’


‘Tell me more of these invaders, Monsieur Remming,’ Mike said as they rode along the road to Norwich. The forest had been cleared for several yards on either side of the road, but the knights still kept a close watch. Feral Pokégirls were a common sight in this part of England, and travelers had been attacked in broad daylight recently.

‘They landed no more than a fortnight ago. Our watchmen believe they sailed from the north. Men and Pokégirls alike wore mail and swords much like yours.’ Ralph gave her a sidelong look. ‘Most of the Pokégirls are tall, slender blondes with no animal features. Some carried shields with strange twining patterns. My lord father believes they resemble the arms of House Crusher, who were exiled ten years ago.’

‘They are most likely Valkyries, from Sweden or maybe Denmark,’ Mike said. ‘Their shields are marked with runes, not heraldry. This will be an interesting summer indeed.’

‘Pfah!’ One of Ralph’s companions, a greying, evil-eyed man who fondled his sword like he meant to use it, spat into the grass. ‘The Valkyries have been raiding our coasts for years. Fight like demons, every last one of them, but these mean to settle. One man said he saw oxen and plows.’

‘If they mean to live in peace with His Majesty’s subjects, to uphold our laws and defend the coast, they are welcome here.’ Mike held up one hand to forestall Ralph’s sputtering protests. ‘Much of Norfolk lies waste and fallow. Valkyries excel at farming and fishing according to Garibaldi’s Travels. Perhaps they will revive the ports and start trade with Sweden. I’m tired of haggling with the Dutch.’

A handful of riders in boiled leather met the column a few miles from Norwich. Mike thought they looked decidedly scruffy compared to her mail-clad knights. A few under her command even wore the new scale armour that was coming into style. The riders’ leader reined up beside Ralph and said, ‘Welcome back, Master Ralph. The Baron wishes to see you as soon as you arrive.’

Norwich had no proper castle, but Mike judged the Baron’s house strong enough to stand a week’s siege at least. Ralph went upstairs to meet his father without even taking the time to dust off his cloak. Mike and her knights saw to the stabling of their horses. A servant in Baron Norfolk’s green and grey livery summoned them for dinner shortly after night fell.

The grand hall of the Baron’s house was large enough to feed half of Norwich– the half that mattered, as he put it halfway through the meal. He was a large man, but fit, with a walrus’s mustache beneath his red nose. He raised his horn to Mike when she entered the hall and drank heartily throughout the meal. Most of the knights were given places at the benches and trestle tables running the length of the hall; Mike herself and her lieutenants sat at the Baron’s table on the low dais. Servants carved a lamb and poured flagons of dark brown ale before taking their places on the benches.

Norfolk made no attempt at conversation until he had finished eating. Mike was trying to impale a small tomato on her knife when he said, ‘I see you have brought a hundred knights. I do not doubt that they will be enough to bring victory.’

‘Lady Montgomery had at least seven hundreds under her command,’ Ralph grumbled. ‘The niggard could’ve spared another company.’

‘You wouldn’t say that if you’d ever seen a Widow, Young Master,’ The battered old soldier to his left reproved Ralph. ‘You’re too young to remember the last one in this county, and the dead have been restful longer than that.’

‘Alan’s right, son. Eighteen years ago we had to hunt one down and I’ve never been closer to death.’ The Baron’s hand slipped down to squeeze an old scar on his thigh. ‘I’ve heard stories about the walking dead, and I’m thankful I’ve never seen any.’ He took a deep draught from his drinking horn and waved for a servant to refill it before continuing. ‘Well, I’m grateful to have your knights join my command. We’ve always lacked horse in this part of the country.’

‘You are mistaken, milord,’ Mike said. ‘By law, Knights of Avalon are an independent body, subject to no man.’

‘“Independent.” Since when have Pokégirls been able to rule themselves? One sniff of a cock and you go all to pieces. Speaking of that, how’s about you come down to the barracks tonight?’ A young man carrying around an ale flagon bent down to whisper to one of the knights at the Baron’s table. He slipped his free hand around her neck and reached down.

The knight grabbed his hand and said, without turning her head, ‘Why would I be interested in your tiny little prick? Touch me again and I’ll feed you your own cock.’

‘Geraldine!’ Mike stood up to chide her subordinate. ‘Please try to be a little more ladylike. Say “geld” instead of “feed you your own cock.” It doesn’t matter what you do with it after you cut it off, but there is no need to be so graphic at table.’

‘I apologize, Captain, milord.’ Geraldine bowed to each in turn. ‘I think I’ve drunk a little too much tonight. Please excuse me.’ The Baron nodded and the knight made her way out of the hall to her tent on the lawn. The diners on the lower benches had been filtering out for the last quarter hour and only a handful remained. Norfolk drained his drinking cup once more and tottered off to his harem upstairs. Ralph followed his father, though his quarters were at the other end of the floor. Soon, Mike was left alone in the hall with the fire burning low.

The servants found her asleep on a bench in the morning. An empty flagon of ale and a drinking horn stood on the table beside her. She said that she would return for breakfast and stumbled out of the house. The knights had pitched tents over the Baron’s lawn and many greeted their commander as she continued on to the river. A group of older Pokégirls doing laundry at the riverside gossiped loudly, but Mike paid them no mind.

Mike shed her jacket and trousers on the bank and slipped into the water. She closed her eyes and floated on her back, listening to the birds and the flowing water. The sound of hooves on gravel brought her back to the world. Her squire had brought her horse and arms. Mike swam back to shore and dried herself on the cloth Elise held out, shivering in the cool air.

‘Sir, you really shouldn’t go swimming so early. You’ll catch your death of cold one of these days. And what if someone thought you were a wild Pokégirl?’

‘Elise, do I look like an aquatic?’ Mike appeared fully human, with long brown hair that bordered on black. She armed herself with Elise’s help and mounted her grey. The two rode back to the Baron’s house, where breakfast was waiting: eggs and bacon and hot bread fresh from the ovens. They slid into empty places on the benches and helped themselves from the common platters. Baron Norfolk announced that he intended to set out before noon and come to grips with the invaders that same day or on the morrow.

Mike paid a call to the privy after eating– it might be her last chance in a long time. When she came out, her knights had already struck their tents and prepared their baggage. Norfolk’s levies required another hour to prepare, but the small host marched before noon. Mike rode beside the Baron at the head of the cavalry. A mile east of Norfolk, he turned to her and said, ‘My son tells me you believe these thieves are Valkyries. I still say they’re mercenaries hired by House Crusher to reclaim their lands.’

‘House Crusher was exiled ten years ago, milord. They settled in Holland with their kin. The war with the French leaves no time for old claims.’ Mike shook her head. The Crushers had ruled Norfolk for generations after the Plague, and the current Baron’s father had not ousted them easily. ‘The traders say that the Danish and Swedish harvests have been poor these past few years. Norfolk land is rich, and even a small colony will be able to send corn home within a few years.’

A scout– a spotted deer-type with fuzzy antlers– ran up, panting. ‘Milord!’ she called. ‘The invaders have thrown up a ring of earth at the top of Crusher Hill.’

‘Prepare for battle!’ the Baron bellowed. ‘Form up and move forward.’ The host writhed as the Baron’s men-at-arms shouted orders and shoved Pokégirls and Tamers into orderly ranks. The hill rose in the middle of a clear field on the far side of the thin strip of woods bordering Norwich’s fields. A small spring rose at the top, and House Crusher had made its seat there in older times. A few tumbled stones and charred timbers marked their old hall. As the scout had said, the invaders had thrown up earthworks around the spring

‘What do you think of that? The traitors have returned to their old haunts.’

‘It is one of the strongest places on the road from Norwich to the coast, Monsieur le Baron,’ Mike countered. ‘It will not be taken easily: we should negotiate.’

The garrison raised a flag as soon as Norfolk’s host emerged from the woods. A thin rod rose from flesh-coloured blob on a black field. Ralph spurred his horse forward and said to his father, ‘The cock and balls of Lemony, Father. But why would a Suffolk House be backing this?’

‘They’re not,’ Elise said. ‘Look again: the base is wider on the left and there are three knobs at the top, two to the left and one to the right. It’s the finger.’ By now a second flag had risen, a fleshy V. She added, ‘And I suppose you think that’s the V of House Victor.’ The Baron’s face turned redder than a Robin’s breasts and he shouted for the trumpets to sound the attack.

Tamers and Pokégirls charged from the edge of the woods in a screaming mass. Arrows and javelins flew out from hill to meet them and dozens fell before the Baron’s lines reached the foot of Crusher Hill. More were shot down as they climbed and the defenders met them at the wall with long spears. The attackers faltered and broke. At least a third of their numbers lay on the field, bleeding or dead, and more fell as they ran down the hill.

Mike and her knights sat through the assault at the edge of the woods. Norfolk galloped over and berated her. ‘Coward! Traitor! Is this how you help a lord of the realm– by abandoning his troops to die as you watch?’ Veins bulged on his neck and forehead and spittle flew from his lips.

Mike opened her visor and said, ‘The assault was rash. A charge uphill against five-foot walls– that is suicide. They’re using bodkin heads and crossbows, or I’m a goat. No mail will stop that, unless it be wrought by Wayland Smith himself.’

‘This is why we’re beholden to no man,’ Geraldine added: ‘so we don’t get killed by their stupidity.’

‘Enough, Geraldine. They’re coming out.’ The appearance of a short column from behind the hill stopped the incipient quarrel. A plain white flag fluttered limply above them and they bore red shields. The Baron shouted for his soldier to form up again. Mike waved for the knights to lay down their lances and told him that the newcomers were flying an old form of peace banner. ‘We must give them a four-colour as soon as we can,’ she added, referring to the new banner that combined the colours of the four elements: red, blue, white, and brown.

The knights rode forward at a walk with Norfolk beside Mike at the head. They met the foreigners midway between the woods and the hill. The newcomers were almost all tall, slender blonde Pokégirls, though Mike saw one or two cat ears towards the back. They wore brightly polished mail hauberks over padded leather tunics and pointed steel helmets that left the face bare. Their tall rectangular shields curved slightly to cover the body and each one was adorned with a unique pattern of twining runes.

The Valkyries’ leader, a green-eyed blonde who managed to appear graceful and muscular at the same time, stepped forward and asked, ‘Why have you attacked us? We intend to settle peacefully in this land, and this is how you welcome your new neighbours?’ She inflected her English strangely, but spoke with grave courtesy.

‘I am Edward Remming, Baron Norfolk. These lands you have claimed form my private hunting grounds, and I am well within my rights to eject you by force.’

‘There is precedent for the granting of empty lands to new occupants who make it productive,’ Mike said. ‘If you send a petition to King Edgar, Avalon will support you in your claim [1].’

‘We came to invite your leaders to parley tonight. A tent will be pitched on the field, with food and drink.’ The Valkyrie leader turned to Mike. ‘You are a knight of Avalon?’

‘I am. Even there the valour of the Valkyries is well-known and our bards sing of your greatest deeds.’

‘Likewise, the knights are known throughout Europe as the finest cavalry of our age. An old man met at the docks in Copenhagen with a package to be delivered to the Knights of Avalon. If we are agreed, we will begin preparations for the parley. Bring what food you can: we have only soldiers’ fare, and little enough of it.’

The Baron grumbled to Mike as they rode away, ‘I don’t trust them. This is probably just a trick to poison or murder us.’

‘The Valkyries hold the laws of hospitality to be sacred, milord. Garibaldi records that even the slayer of one’s parent is inviolable at another’s board, and he himself saw a case where vengeance for a lover was postponed until the next morning when the killer was admitted unknowingly.’

Norfolk grew redder, if possible, and puffed himself up. The knight’s words seemed half reproach to one who was rumoured to have obtained his barony by smothering the last Lord Crusher under his roof and charging his son with meditating rebellion. Her declaration of support for the newcomers rankled, as well. He took his son aside into the woods upon returning to his troops and no one saw them until evening.


A great canvas tent rose on the field as the afternoon passed. Shortly before sunset, Norfolk and his principal vassals rode out in finery brought from town. Mike and her lieutenants wore simple woolen tunics dyed in whatever colours caught the owner’s fancy. Each knight carried knife, fork, and spoon, but no weapons. A short tail of servants carried the Baron’s contribution to the meal in covered dishes.

The tent was lit by brass-and-glass oil lamps on tall iron stands. A trestle table ran its length with short logs set as seats at regular intervals. Platters of roast venison, various birds, hard bread, and salt fish covered the table and each seat had its own plain stoneware plate. Brimming vats of ale and mead stood at one side with a table full of horns and cups. Norfolk’s servants set their dishes on the table and left as the Valkyries entered through the opposite side.

The leader bowed and introduced herself as Edin Thorvaldsdottir. She took a seat at the head of the table and motioned for Norfolk to sit beside her. The two parties sat opposite each other: Valkyries on Edin’s side, Norfolk’s vassals and Mike’s officers on the Baron’s. About half the diners immediately abandoned their seats to claim the largest cups. The other half took revenge by grabbing the best food.

The meal passed quickly and amicably, though only a few conversations started across the table. Most of those had to do with ‘shop,’ comparing fighting styles and trading war stories, which the Valkyries had in abundance. The bridge between Sweden and Denmark was often contested, the Danish states warred amongst themselves, and their neighbours periodically launched crusades to extirpate the ‘unnatural’ free Pokégirls.
Long after dark fell, the last platter was emptied and the vats ran dry. Edin pulled a small crate from beneath the table and said to Mike, ‘This the package was entrusted to me on the docks of Copenhagen. I do no know its contents, and the question has weighed much on my mind. If you would, open the crate and show us.’

Mike took up a short crowbar that a silent servant laid on the table beside the crate. She pried the top off easily, revealing a mess of straw within which was nestled a single plain wooden cup that had once been gilt, but the gold was flaking off. It did not shine with mystic light, nor did it give off some heavenly odour, but all the Knights rose and genuflected as one when their commander raised it over her head. Most later said they felt a moment of utter peace and contentment, that their weariness was washed away and even their oldest wounds stopped aching.

‘This– this is the Grail.’ Mike replaced the cup in its crate with trembling hands. ‘We have been seeking it since our Order was founded. We shall bear it to Avalon with all honour.’

‘What? You would abandon me here to the mercies of these–’The Baron broke off when he observed his hosts’ faces. The laws of parley and hospitality protected him tonight, but the future was unknown.

‘This is the Grail,’ Geraldine declared. ‘This takes precedence over all other matters, except a full invasion of Britain, and even then we would act to safeguard it.’

Mike added, ‘And for this service, Avalon will support you in all your endeavours, so long as you do not disturb the King’s peace or assail his subjects.’

‘And we shall not, so long as they respect our persons and our possessions,’ Edin replied. A servant brought a rolled map of the county marked with red ink and a pen case. ‘We propose these borders. This leaves you much of your old hunting grounds, particularly the forests. We ask leave to patrol this road from coast to Norwich and to keep this outpost to help suppress banditry and wild Pokégirls. We had hoped to bring these terms peacefully.’

Norfolk squinted at the map and said, ‘That is too much. I must have rights to the land on the sea. There is a good harbour here and I will not lose my chance of revenue should a port develop.’

‘Fair enough. Then we leave this portion of it to you, though we cannot give up use of the harbour.’ Edin traced a new line in blue. ‘If this is agreeable, we can have a formal treaty drawn up within a few days.’

‘I know a lawyer in town who could do it better than any of us. Give me the map and I shall give it to him tomorrow.’

Edin groped for grounds to refuse without casting aspersions on the Baron’s honesty. One of the other Valkyries suggested, ‘Let the Knights keep it for the night, for they have no interest in the matter, and all Britain knows their integrity.’

The Baron, prepared to denounce Valkyrie treachery if they had proposed keeping the map themselves, relaxed and gave his assent. The three leaders agreed to meet at a certain house in town two hours before noon the next day and the parley ended. A drinking horn, thrice the size of any used at the meal, was filled and passed around before all departed.

Norfolk’s levies had returned home when night fell and rumours spread of a peace. The Knights had made camp for the night, but Mike and her lieutenants escorted the Baron home, ordering the Knights to assemble in Norwich before noon. They could see sentries pacing the walls on Crusher Hill as they rode off.

The next day dawned cloudy and clammy. A dozen Valkyries emerged from their encampment shortly after sunrise and followed the Knights into town. Mike tarried long enough to deliver the map to the lawyer before riding east with her entire company.



Notes:

1) I suppose this would be Edgar III, as there were two King Edgars in the Saxon era, Edgar the Peaceable (959-975) and Edgar the Atheling (uncrowned, as he succeeded Harold Godwinson, who lost the Battle of Hastings).