Gwaine and the Black Knight
A story from the Round Table.
This is an epic tale and requires patience.
The stories of the knights of the round table represent some of the great tales of good and evil, of love, mystery and magic. Here is a lesser known episode from that ancient mythology. Though much is told of the story of the Green knight and his strange challenge to the court, few have heard this tale.
The story tellers exalt in the tales of Gwaine. His bravery, his prowess in battle and the chivalrous deeds of honour to defend his king, his lands and the virtue of his ladies.
His reputation is enviable but as so often that reputation depends on a selective view of history, told to flatter the victors, the rulers, the rich and the powerful and woe betide anyone who spoke against that reputation within the earshot of these men or their allies.
In medieval times, lords got what they held by force and held only what they could by force. A wit, charm and a clever choice of friends was useful but ruthlessness and brute force was what lay behind a rich gentleman’s success story.
So it was with Gwaine,. He was possessed of courage, wit and charm in abundance, it is often remembered how he made great use of these. He was also bound, like the other knights of the round table, to the code of honour they swore when each became a knight.
When the Green Knight mysteriously appeared and challenged the knights to cut off his head in return for their reciprocity at the court of the Green Knight a year to the day thereafter, it was Gwaine who stepped forward to decapitate the Green Knight. When the Green Knight stood, picked up his severed head and left the court, apparently uninjured, Gwaine knew that he would be compelled by his code to accept the reciprocal blow from their mysterious visitor on that day a year later.
He got lucky on that occasion and though it seemed unlikely, the story ends well for him, not least in his image as a faithful keeper of a promise.
The version of the story less often told relates to an aspect of Gwaine’s behaviour wiped from our collective memory by the moralising of 19th Century enthusiasts for mythical stories. Wishing to clean them up for a a big publishing deal, making these adventures suitable for the impressionable young and emphasising truth, honour, heterosexuality and of course fidelity. You will now see how it was that this particular fable got left out.
Here too, the court was gathered for feasting at the spring time celebrations of fertility and rebirth. As was customary in medieval times, these feast were wild affairs with much drinking and debauched behaviour but not in sanitised, Victorian versions of the story..
Gwaine was well known throughout the land for his strength in battle his magnificent physical presence, his greatly enhanced musculature and the screams of pain from those subjected to punishment by the penetration of his colossal penis.
Visitors to the court were fascinated by this much whispered reputation. Women dared not show their lust for such a beast as this. If they did they would be banished from his sight for their impure behaviour or condemned as witches. The ‘secret’ everyone in the court and abroad knew was a mere twinkle in the eye of those who met the great knight, his immediate servants and the man who had to accommodate him in clothing and armour.
The court was constantly under attack from jealous lords who sought to bring the magnificence of the city to shame and ruin. Before they were hanged or burned, these enemies and traitors were brought before Gwaine who would have them stripped and strapped into a special swinging bed of leather and chains with their arsehole exposed. No need for a red hot poker to extract a confession when Gwaine was on hand.
His servant would help the great knight out of his customary chain mail and other garments and with his magnificent muscular torso, bristling with a dark and course, curly pelt and lit by the flickering torches around the darkened chamber, the great knight would be made ready for his very special work. His page would release the chain running through the thick silver ring piercing his glans and restraining Gwain’s monstrous penis to the leather strap on his gargantuan right thigh. The page would then present a small bowl of a specially prepared tallow enriched with exotic eucalyptus and camphor with which the knight would slick the bulbous head of his cock and which would send a maddening heat through this giant of a man and bring his phenomenal weapon to it’s extraordinary fullness standing full a foot from Gwaine’s groin, curving upwards like the fantasy phalli on erotic ancient greek pottery. So thick in it’s shaft even the biggest hand could not reach more than half way round it and the raging purple pink head, fuller than a man’s fist. This medieval “Satyr” was six feet four inches tall, a very human 245 pounds of muscle, bone, body hair and sweat, aching to sink that ram into any warm flesh that would accommodate it, by whatever means.
Though consent had always been the ideal of the knights of the court according to their shared code of honour, anything was permitted in the interest of extracting information from those who sought to bring down the king. Gwaine had grown immune to the screams, to the pleading to the inevitable blood, believing he was doing right, helping to protect the kingdom. He took no psychological pleasure in inflicting the terrible pain his prisoners suffered but the feeling of his cock in their warm bodies made him overflow in great gouts of semen and his body convulse and salivate uncontrollably.
So, when one day, a lone rider dressed in black armour appeared during the spring feasting in the city, asking for an audience with Gwaine, the page was sent to direct the mysterious black clad knight to his master’s quarters. He was received with a friendly curiosity but also suspicion.
The black armour and mail made the figure of the stranger menacing and magnificent but the handsome, square jawed Gwaine stood proudly and greeted the arrival, as if he were a friend, with honour and the offer of rest and refreshment, customary among fellow knights even though the newcomer had not removed his steel helmet nor even lifted its visor to reveal his eyes.
Implacably, the Black Knight slowly removed his right gauntlet, at which Gwaine’s brow creased into a stern frown. Surely this was not an unsolicited challenge to single combat.
The Black Knight’s calloused and hairy, darkly tanned hand did not throw his gauntlet at Gwaine’s feet but placed it on a table at his side and then unclasped the catches at his codpiece allowing the broad, burnished and blackened steel cup, covering his lower abdomen, to swing aside like a door and with a slightly incongruous and inelegant and uncomfortable wriggle of his torso that produced a series of clanks and abrasions from the mail and armour around, Gwaine watched, transfixed by this audacity, as the Black Knight reached with his beefy fingers inside the leather padding and into the over heated recesses of his groin.
He proceeded to pull out first, a dark brown foreskin using it as a leader with which to release the beginning of an obviously very large penis. Seeing where this was going, Gwaine began a deep and guttural chuckle in his cavernous chest which, as more of the Black Knight’s penis was revealed, rocked his frame with mirth until, as the dark stranger finally reached into the cramped space once more and scooped out a stupendous pair of hairless balls in a low hanging sack, the great Gwaine was hooting with uncontrollable laughter and clapping his hands at this wonderful comedy.
The Black Knight, however, stood proud and motionless with his fists on his hip armour, as the sight of Gwaine’s magnificently muscled physique, rocked by laughter, caused this dark skinned priapic organ to swell rapidly, for veins to stand pronounced on the previously kid-soft skin, for the length and girth to grow to majestic proportions and for the foreskin to recede slowly as a massive pale brown pink head emerged and for the manly scent of it to reach Gwaine’s nostrils. Gwaine’s page stood by, dumbfounded, his mouth open in astonishment.
“Do you accept my challenge?” A sonorous, deep voice, echoed loudly from behind the black steel visor, rudely interrupting Gwaine’s reverie.
Gwaine’s laughter spluttered to a stop and a peculiar look of confusion crossed his bristly face. A moment of silence passed before the word “Challenge” sank in.
“Do you accept my challenge?” Repeated the forthright tone of the Black Knight.
“I will submit to you, to the legendary Gwaine, who has reportedly busted so many guts with his superhuman strength.” At which, the Black Knight’s right hand returned to the swollen and now dribbling erection, fingering a large drool of milky pre-cum from its tip, he flicked it, disrespectfully at Gwaine, who’s face twitched with the impact.
“In return, in accordance with the code of honour of this famous court, one year to the day from now, you will come to my castle and there you will submit to me.”
The fury on Gwaine’s face at this effrontery was a picture of purple rage and wounded masculine pride. His anger ruled his head and he indignantly spat “I accept the challenge!”
Gwaine’s head, seasoned with thousands of combat decisions, weighed up the challenge very quickly. the Black Knight would, as dozens before him had done, scream for him to stop and when he did not, would split open like a boiled sausage under the onslaught from Gwaine’s cock and be crippled for life if he did not die immediately from his internal injuries. He puffed out his magnificent chest and scoffed “My page will escort you to my lower chambers, my lord, where you may prepare.” and turning his back disdainfully ” I will be with you directly.”
“This way my lord, if it would please you to follow me.” Offered Gwaine’s page. Then, without a further word, the boyish figure led the way for the cumbersome, metallic monstrosity of the Black Knight to follow, the lewd protrusion of his dark skinned erection fearlessly insulting the possibility of human encounters beyond the doorway to this chamber. The sight of it made the young page’s mind race. Could this be a match for his master, it’s girth was thicker than the young man’s forearm, it’s head as big as his fist.
The Black Knight retrieved his right gauntlet as he strode forward, then down a broad but undecorated stone staircase which spiralled some 30 unnerving steps to the floor below, which the steel clad figure negotiated with practiced elegance and confidence.
In an expansive and lofty ante chamber adjoining the bottom stair, the diminutive page led the Black Knight to a massive oak door, studded with iron work, centred in which, at an approximation of eye level, was a small, square window, barred and shuttered on the far side indicating that the occupants could look out but that those in the corridor could not look in unless permitted to do so.
The door was opened with a faint creaking of ancient metal and from within could be heard the crackle of great torches resting in sconces on the walls which barely lit the gloom as their quiet footsteps approached. They were readied in anticipation of need. The service here was good.
Ahead of the Black Knight hung the contraption of leather and chains, the siege in which so many traitors and enemies had been broken. So the stories were all true. If there was doubt in him, nothing showed in his posture.
A scent of burning brushwood and pitch filled the air and a tiny patch of daylight pierced the roof at one wall where the shadow of an iron grating was cast diagonally onto the stonework below, contributing little to the meagre illumination. However, their eyes quickly became accustomed to the paucity of light in the dungeon. It was by no means cold and the stifling weight of armour and chain mail became progressively more oppressive so it was to his great relief that the Black Knight was now expected to disrobe.
Turning to the page, the great figure tilted his head forward and reached up to push off his steel helm, holding it out. The page looked up to take the helmet away and froze, slack jawed at the magnificent, sternly handsome face and shining amber eyes which seemed to flash in the torchlight. He looked down as if scorched by the gaze and there was the huge phallus between them which, as he looked, jerked upwards and dribbled a glistening tear of man juice, as if in acknowledgement of the attention.
For a brief moment the little page was transfixed, but then, remembering his duty, identified a safe place for the Helm and the gauntlets that the Black Knight was just handing his way.
With practiced movements the page then unbuckled the leather straps holding plate armour, knowing where to support as each came loose and the body heat of the huge man before him rushed out into the cooler space around them. There was a rich odour of man that accompanied its humid exhalation and as the garments were slowly removed one by one and stacked close by the great sex organ bobbed and quivered with his movements. Whatever the page felt about such a proximity to this magnificent sexual athlete was held in check by discipline and duty, although there was a poignant sense that he was very nervous, as one should be around dangerous men, and of his being very cautious. As for the Black Knight, he stood proud. Dense dark beard and bold moustache, his dark complexion bearing a faint film of perspiration. The neck and shoulders now almost bare their thick corded musculature obvious in the twilight.
Finally, it was done and the Black Knight stood totally naked before the sling with an aristocratic pride in spite of his nudity. At one side the Black Knight saw the small bowl of scented tallow which was kept close he dipped a thick forefinger into it and then sniffed in the pleasant eucalyptus and camphor. He rubbed the ointment between thumb and forefinger, a pleased expression of recognition breaking onto his broad brow.
Then, as the great door creaked again, a sudden light and the immensely elongated shadows of Gwaine and two heavily built, heavily armed guards spilled in from the doorway. Gwaine’s anger preceding him like an aura. He wore only a light-weight tunic to just above his knees his massive, hirsute, naked calves and bare feet pale in the sunless gloom, the brown buff woollen shirt showing every contour of his rippling, sinuous, upper body as it moved hardly concealing his massive, swinging genitals, barely held in check by his chastity chain and which were begging for release. He had long since ceased to wince from the pain inflicted by the piercing in his cock head when the beginnings of an erection tried to free itself and since his teens his highly developed self control tuned out the hormones and turned down the pressure until the organ returned to its comfortable flaccidity.
This situation was subtly different from the experience of punishing traitors and enemies. This man was only his enemy by virtue of his insulting behaviour. What had been a comic episode and a ripe one had turned to insult when the Black Knight spattered his cock snot on Gwaine’s face. Who knows where that situation might have gone if the new arrival had not crossed the line with his “Challenge”. Well, Gwaine was in control here and it was going to end with the usual pleading, screams and blood. He stepped forward.
The smell of the tallow was already in his nostrils. What was this? the Black Knight was seated, even relaxed in the sling, his dark brown muscles, peppered with grizzled, black body hair his powerful arms entwined with the chain hanging mechanism, his feet off the ground, not unlike a gigantic boy on a swing. The only spoiler being the great erect penis poking straight up towards the cleft in his upper abdominal muscles, which, in spite of tightly curled black body hair, writhed their rippling dance as the chains jingled and he adjusted his position. His supremely handsome features broke into a smile and brilliant white teeth could be glimpsed between the dense jungle of moustache and a broad sea of beard “Greetings, my lord!”
“My lord.” Responded Gwaine, through gritted teeth, apparently impervious to the fabulous display of manhood before him.
He motioned the guards forward and they reached for the restraints that would usually be required to hold the screaming figure, prone in the sling as the interrogation proceeded. The Black Knight, lay calmly back onto the cool leather bed of the sling, permitting his wrists to be bound over his head to a big iron loop. His feet were hoisted high and spread wide and his ankles fastened with leather cuffs to the hanging chains and finally two broad leather straps were fastened across his torso, one just under his arms, the other across his waist which trapped his tumescent cock harshly under it as it was tightened.
The guards moved away.
Meanwhile Gwaine gestured to the boy to help him disrobe and respectfully the page lifted the hem of the knight’s woollen shift and waited for his master to bend his hugely muscled frame forward at the waist so that the small servant could reach up enough to get the garment off over his head. Once again there was that wave of body warmth and the haze of humid man scent and then the light woollen robe was carefully folded into memory and put on one side. The servant carefully inserted two skilful fingers through the heavy, solid silver ring in the end of Gwaine’s hot penis, then, using his thumb and his other hand, he released the catch which secured the thick, silver restraining chain, pulling that through the corresponding loop on the thigh belt. Gwaine snorted with relief and his cock bounced into life, even before the page had reached for the ceremonial tallow.
As the oily, scented fat was tenderly rubbed into the masters glans, the great veins along the shaft of Gwaine’s growing erection began popping into view and the heat from the spices weaved it’s magic scorching through the whole organ, down the electrified corridor of nerve endings lining his urethra, tingling in his testicles, heating and invigorating his prostate, raising his breathing and causing his heart to pound like the hammers in a great foundry, driving its owner half mad with the need to fuck.
With a wave of his hand to the servant, who bowed slightly and backed away into the shadows, Gwaine turned to the sling and the prone and naked figure of the Black Knight. Not a whimper, no anxious pleading, not a hint of fear nor nervousness crossed the man’s handsome face. His twinkling amber eyes seemed to Gwaine to lose their focus on him for just a second before returning his concentration into Gwaine’s own steel blue grey eyes. None of the defiance of the unrepentant criminal who had yet felt no torture. None of the familiar signs of despairing resignation in the face of death. What was this look on the face of the man in the sling, as the cold ring on the tip of that vast, flared, red hot cock head touched the tender flesh of the Black Knight’s arse hole?
Then, gripping the herculean thighs of the prone knight to increase the force of his entry, Gwaine threw everything he had into one devastating pelvic thrust.
Much to his satisfaction a roar of expelled exclamatory air gushed out at Gwaine from the Black Knight who’s face contorted into that roar of a knight rushing, screaming into the mêlée of raging battle. Then it was gone and instead of the continued screaming and pleading of his experience to date, it became suddenly clear and much to his astonishment that the roar of battle was that very same roar of joy and exhilaration for the thrill and the proximity of violence and death.
What was this on the grizzled face of the Black Knight? His eyes wide, looking into him, looking almost through Gwaine, his mouth open, his face frowning but not twisting in agony, his breath coming in great gouts, his chest heaving. Gwaine withdrew his weapon and tried again. The reaction, almost exactly the same, as the great fist of his cock head punched straight into the Black Knight’s insides, it was as if he’d merely winded him. not ripped him wide open. This second blow was usually enough to get the confession he needed before allowing himself the pleasure of squirting a gut-full of his semen into the prisoner and enjoying the heat of their body. Here he was up to his bollocks in the Black Knight, all 12 inches, as thick as a strong man’s lower arm, embedded in the Black Knights guts.
Looking up from his pinioned position, the sparkle in those golden amber eyes caught the slightest confusion in the cold steel blue of Gwaine’s own. Then Gwaine felt a spasm around his cock and the heat of the tallow ointment registered again, filling his brain with lust. There was an odd moment of recognition for both of these noble, magnificent men. Another spasm. the Black Knight was somehow, in spite of the titanic flesh-pipe stretching his insides to breaking point, able to apply pressure around Gwaine’s cock, like a huge gripping hand. It was scorching hot and Gwaine’s response was to buck his hips like a wild thing, to salivate uncontrollably and with his nostrils flaring, eyes locked on that deep look of concentration on the Black Knight’s face, he pumped and pumped that blaster in and out of the muscle beast before him. Their breath synchronised with the force of the incoming piston, their grunts, their sweat their lust combined and suddenly as if a great machine had clamped down on Gwaine’s cock, the Black Knight let loose a bolt of white semen up his chest and across his own face then Gwaine felt the vice like grip again and another shot of semen splattered the underside of the Black Knight’s bearded chin and another bellow issued forth from his taught lips.
Just as the heat in his cockhead was about to become unbearable and he pumped his hips like a madman in an uncontrollable fit, Gwaine felt that constrictor a third time grabbing at his shaft, his eyes rolled back in his head, he just let go any notion of control and as he did so his nuts gave out and he felt as if he was falling off some precipice and the whole world was forced past his balls, through his cock and way up into the internal organs of the Black Knight. Again the Black Knight, imprisoned and helpless, ejaculated a viscose stripe of cum up onto his beard across his broad nose and over his right eyebrow with a grunt that was almost an hysteric laugh. Gwaine’s body fell forward like a puppet that had its strings cut, his body jerking, his whole system inseminating the Black Knight, a pumping station deep below the base of his cock he’d never felt before was hosing down the beefcake below him who, by rights, should have been dying by now. Gwaine’s face fell onto the hot and sticky, hairy mess all over the stricken, hog-tied body of the Black Knight as it continued to spasm and and dribble semen between the great muscle men.
Neither of them heard the intense sounds of sucking and fucking coming from the shadows as three witnesses to this unprecedented spring festival of fertility released their own pent up lust.
Then there was just hard breathing and hearts and lungs around the room desperately trying to recover satisfactory blood oxygen levels. Sweat rolled, cum trickled, fried brains struggle to come to terms with what had just taken place. Then, for Gwaine at least, there was oblivion.
His face was mired in the sticky dark chestnut musk of the Black Knight’s belly hair, his thick beard and the tousled locks on his head were tangled there as the semen, which lay in thick pools, began to congeal.
As moments passed the three attendants, having, to some extent, straightened their attire, came gingerly forward. The two guards flanking the page one step behind, encouraging the youth forward to find out what lay in wait in the silence. The strong smell of sweat mingled with semen drowned even that of the torch fumes.
“My lord?” Called the page timidly.
“I believe he has fainted,” Returned the deep bass baritone of the Black Knight with a barely suppressed snigger.
“I should send for the court physician immediately.” Quivered the page.
“The perfect remedy is easily in reach. If you would just release my right arm, I will administer it.”
Suspicious of any command other than from the lips of his master he hesitated but seeing that with only one free hand and his body still fastened tight AND under the weight of Sir Gwaine, it was obvious the Black Knight could not cause great harm before his defenceless, naked body could be speared by the waiting guards.
Tentatively the young servant uncoupled the shackle holding the right hand of their captive and realising that there would be no feeling in it after his ordeal, brought the hand to rest on the Black Knight’s chest just above his master’s head. Those robust fingers were soon in recovery and with a little exercise the circulation returned to them and with it the feeling in their tips, perfectly placed as they were in a large globule of cum.
He scooped up the goo between two stout fingers and his thumb and the page watched aghast as they moved towards the gaping mouth of the great unconscious warrior. Horror-struck, as if paralysed, the page silently mouthed the word “No!” as the Black Knight gently and slowly slipped his cum-laden fingers into Gwaine’s gaping maw and touched his tongue, whereupon the stupefied Gwaine nursed on the thick, strong digits as if at his mother’s breast and made satisfied and comforted gurgles deep in his throat. Agog, the page stared at the scene as the Black Knight slowly and gently removed his incongruous, manly fingers, carefully gathered more spoog from a clot in his beard and returned them to the waiting tongue, now lolling expectantly at Gwaine’s lips, there, eagerly drawing them in once again to savour and devour their exquisite, sticky coating.
At last, Gwaine’s figure stirred and he raised his head slightly as the stickiness bound it to the Black Knights chest. Then, dizzily grasping the realisation of his whereabout, his state of undress and the compromising position he held in close proximity to another male, not to mention the mess all over his face and his near flaccid cock still buried in the bowels of the superman beneath him.
He gingerly peeled his face away from it’s resting place with many small sharp intakes of breath at the sensations of pulled body hair. Using his strong arms to lift himself away from the sling contraption, his own chest hair, trapped and gooey, finally came away from the lower abdomen and groin of the black night releasing more of that pheromonal musk from the dark skinned man beneath him.
As he did so his great cock slid from it’s resting place inside the captive knight, like a slithering eel or like the slimy birth of a bull calf with a ring miraculously already piercing his nose. He took a faltering step backwards with his left foot to correct his unsteady balance and gazed down at the magnificent mess before him.
“Unfasten these bonds immediately!” He commanded. “Bring water to drink and water to wash!”
“No blood?” Thought Gwaine, looking down at his limp member and the growing pool of his own semen dribbling out of the Black Knights gaping arse, which throbbed like a puckered mouth surrounded by a bush of flattened black hair against the deep tan of hard trained buttocks. He hefted his great member out of the shadows into the fickle light from the nearest torches. “No blood.” While he contemplated this, the contraption rattled and the body of the Black Knight was released from his bonds.
The captive stretched and rubbed his massively muscled limbs, massaging the circulation and the feeling back into them. As the servant returned with a pitcher of water and two great tankards, Gwaine offered his outstretched arm to the visitor, inviting him to raise himself up with the standing knight’s assistance. They locked sinewed fore arms and the Black Knight was raised to a standing position so close their bodies touched. After the tumult of this past hour there could be no propriety of rank and conventions of decency here.
As the two knights drank thirstily, another servant arrived at the door bearing a yolk across his shoulders and two further wooden buckets of water. With the calm implacability of the downtrodden, he looked up at the two dishevelled warriors, muscles glistening in the torchlight, stinking of semen and backed carefully towards the door with a bow as if he’d seen nothing out of the ordinary.
A bath for Gwaine would allow his page to wash his seated figure. That would be a luxury to be enjoyed later. Standing here it was obvious the diminutive servant could not reach his lord’s upper body. A bath would have to wait.
“I will wash my guest.” Declared Gwaine. Their eyes still locked into each other’s psyche.
“And I will wash my lord Gwaine in my turn.” responded the Black Knight.
Each did his best to remove the sticky knots in hairy tangles as nervously they touched each other’s body with reverence and when as much as could be done was done and dried, each donned his undershirt and together, with the page in tow, carrying the Black Knight’s armour, they wearily ascended the flight of steps back to Gwaine’s upper chamber where the evening light streamed in through narrow windows. Climbing the spiral staircase ahead of him, the page got a marvellous view of the great knights, of strong naked legs and buttocks, as he struggled under the weight of the Black Knight’s armour, his head spinning with the incomprehensible unfolding of events in the last hour. That image burned into his retina and would stay in the memory of Gwaine’s impressionable, young page through his long life into his great old age.
“Bring wine for my guest!” Called Gwaine. “Tonight we feast to celebrate the coming of spring!”
“I would not insult your hospitality, my lord but I will share just one, modest cup with you.” So rang the voice of the Black Knight, as the lofty chamber began to murmur and thrum with sounds of a feast in preparation and the voices of distant drums and reeds crept in from a festive square, far below. “We shall feast together at my table, when our challenge is completed.”
Gwaine snapped back to the sober reality of his situation and the thought of having to undergo what the Black Knight had just endured. What was more galling, he’d appeared, from the evidence of his colossal ejaculation, to enjoy as much as Gwaine. He though back to the arrival of his guest, the presentation of the challenge, his own indignation and angry acceptance, full of confidence that there would be no need to reciprocate. Now, the shadow began to fall on Gwaine, his countenance changed from festive host to doubt and introspection but his honour and his life were at stake, these were familiar battlegrounds on which he had fought his whole adult life and he must find a way to come through.”
He straightened his back lifted his great chest and hoisted a silver goblet of the kingdom’s fine wine. “To my honoured guest!” He cried, taking a draught from the elegant vessel before offering it to the waiting hand of the Black Knight.
“Until we meet, a year to the day from now!” Replied his visitor, whose amber eyes held those of Gwaine in a grip of friendly sincerity which both impressed and unsettled his host. “When the time comes,” he continued cryptically, “You will know the road.” He drank from the cup before handing it back. “Excellent wine!” He confided. “I hope that our own vintners can do justice to this honour, my lord. Now I must bid you farewell.”
“My page will assist you with all the respect due to a great knight and a courteous guest of this kingdom.” Bowed Gwaine “Go well goodly knight.
The Black Knight bowed in acknowledgement, turned and left.
To be continued: