Those Who Live in Grass Houses

Sir Bedivere

Sir Bedivere

“What am I doing wrong, Lance?” asked Sir Bedivere.

Lancelot rubbed his chin in thought. “Well, it’s not your looks,” he answered. “You may be the ugliest face at the round table but they don’t really care about that. Oh, it doesn’t hurt to look good, I’ll not deny that…” He flashed a perfect set of white teeth in his famously disarming grin. “But they’re really after something quite different. Tell me again how you go about this.”

Bedivere looked puzzled. “Straightforward enough,” he answered. “First I kill the dragon, of course. No problems with that. Then I go up to her and sorta give this little bow, say something like, ‘Your servant, ma’am,’ and offer a hand to help her get down from whatever pedestal the dragon’s put her on. Dunno why they always have to put her on a pedestal but they do. Expect you’ve noticed that.”

Lancelot nodded. “Yeah. It’s to make her more noticeable. She’s the bait, you see. But what happens then?”

“Well, I take her down to the horse, she gets on and off we go.”

“You walking, leading the horse?”

Bedivere seemed surprised that there was any other option. “Of course.”

“That’s your answer then.” Lancelot sat back and crossed his arms. “You’re too polite, too correct, too gentlemanly and all that. It’s not what they really wants, you know. Nah, they likes a bad boy that’ll get straight to the point. None of this ‘ecka-scooze me, your ladyship,’ and ‘if you please, ma’am.’ Grab ‘em round the waist to help ‘em down, then take ‘em by the hand to lead ‘em to the horse. Shove ‘em on the horse, then climb up behind, one hand on the reins, the other round the waist and off you go. Gives the two of you a chance to get acquainted, you see.”

“Oh, I don’t know if I could do that,” said Bedivere. “Seems a bit forward, if you ask me. And anyway, isn’t just rescuing them enough?”

Lancelot gave a cynical glance at the ceiling. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But they loves a bad boy, Bedi, and the rescue is the least they expect. Even a blooming stable lad would do that. If you want their respect, you’ve gotta earn it.”

Bedivere looked quite horrified. “Blimey,” he said. “I don’t know what the world’s coming to, in that case.”

“It’s just damsels, innit?” explained Lancelot. “They don’t think like we do and they know how to get what they wants. And what they wants is bad boys cos they need someone who’ll scare off the other geezers and dragons. The milksops and dainty boys are just gonna get themselves killed.”

“So you reckon, if I treat this next one like that, I’ll be in with a chance?”

Lancelot replied with utter confidence. “Exactly. You go in like Flynn, my Bedivere boy, and Bob will definitely be your uncle. She’ll lap it up.”

Bedivere went silent for a while, obviously mulling things over. Then, a decision having been made, he looked up and declared in determined tones, “I’ll do it. It’ll be hard for me and I’ll feel like a cad, but I’m sick of being single.”

Lancelot smiled. “That’s the spirit. Now saddle up and let’s get going. You have a damsel to save and I’ve a grail to look for. You don’t happen to know what a grail is, do you, Bedi?”

“It’s a cup, Lance, a cup.”

And so the pair went their separate ways on disparate quests. They were not to see each other for many years thereafter. Lancelot did hear that Bedivere had married the damsel he’d rescued, a certain Lady Belamour of Mordant Vale, and he was quite proud of his own part in the matter. Without his sage advice, he told himself, poor Bedi would never have got himself hitched.

It was on an expedition to expel raiders on the northern frontier that the two friends bumped into each other again. Lancelot was quite surprised at the weight Bedivere had put on in the interval and he mentioned it after their happy greetings.

“She’s treating you well, I see,” he said, as he patted Bedivere’s enlarged belly.

Bedivere smiled broadly. “It’s wonderful, Lance. I’m eating like a king and she keeps the servants working away like ants. I’m out every day on quests and then, when I get home, I get treated to the most amazing feasts. She’s found some foreign cook from somewhere and he makes the most tasty stuff I’ve ever eaten. Even the king commented on it when he came to dinner the other day.”

“So I was right about what damsels really want, then?”

“Damn right you were, Lance. I couldn’t believe how easy it was when I tried it.”

Lancelot laughed. “I knew it,” he said, “I freaking knew it.”

Bedivere’s face went suddenly serious. “But now there’s another thing, Lance.”

“What, more damsel trouble?”

“No, Bela’s a real treat, no trouble at all.” Bedivere’s voice went quiet as he added, “It’s the kids, Lance.”

“What, you’ve got kids as well? Congratulations, Bedi!”

“Thanks,” said Bedivere, although he didn’t seem too happy about it.

“How many?” asked Lancelot.

“Five, I think. Little blighters move so fast, it’s hard to count them.”

“And that’s a problem?”

Bedivere nodded. “That and the fact they’re savages. They're everywhere in the castle, getting into everything, breaking things, trying to break themselves, making a terrible racket, constantly asking questions, and moving so fast I can’t keep up. They’re worse than a herd of dragons. Absolute barbarians, I tell you. They’re driving me nuts, Lance, and I don’t know what to do about it. What can I do?”

Lancelot looked at his friend and shook his head. “Now you know why I never married,” he said.


Word count: 968
For "Game of Thrones"  The North Remembers, What’s His Story, Prompt 4
Prompt: You are a knight on the way to save a princess, which is something you do on a weekly basis. Unfortunately, no princess has been interested in marrying you, even after witnessing your heroic acts.