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    The Sky In His Eyes
    The Sky In His Eyes
    The Sky In His Eyes
    Ebook184 pages2 hours

    The Sky In His Eyes

    By Lee Quail

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    About this ebook

    In a time long forgotten, when witches kingmakers be, when fairies and sorcery were both feared and loved, Sir Lancelot du Lac, fairest, bravest and most handsome of all King Arthur’s knights, found love.
    Throughout the ages historians have deceived in making us believe Lancelot loved Guinevere. They got it wrong, for Lancelot loved only one; a fellow knight of the round table, one who carried the sky in his eyes.

    Galehaut,
    Lord of the Distant Isles.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherLee Quail
    Release dateDec 21, 2021
    ISBN9781005560874
    The Sky In His Eyes
    Author

    Lee Quail

    Writer,Cover artist.Horticulturist.Married.South Africa.Proudly Gay

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      Book preview

      The Sky In His Eyes - Lee Quail

      Book 1

      Prologue

      Pain waited for death in a sparsely furnished room. A room as cold as the thawing snow. Outside, a crack of a branch sounded like an explosion. Frail and pensive, the old monk’s red eyes reflected the throbbing heartache of bygone years in an emaciated, drawn face framed by cascading silver-grey hair down to his pillow.

      He lay in a hoary oak bed given out of charity by a young couple after the death of their beloved mother; two ornate chairs resilient enough to seat only the unladen had been gifted to him by the Grand Abbot of the abbey, and the wooden crucifix crafted with his own hands on the wall above his bed, saved every prayer over the years.

      His life had ceased to enchant. His chosen loneliness fortified by the walls of the Abbey. Guests were scarce, and friendships a thing of the past. But, today he had company. Two men gathered around the bed offering companionship and support; one fed him a brew of warm potato broth with a wooden spoon, ever careful not to soil his long beard. The other brought several quills and pig’s blood in a large inkwell, and reams of dyed parchment.

      I know you, the old priest said, beckoning the scribe closer. We were much younger and filled with spirit. 

      I greet you with love and honor, sire. It is I, Taliesin.

      The old man frowned. His lips trembled. Taliesin? You’ve lost weight, yet you are more handsome now than ever. The years have been kind to you.

      Like his poetry, Taliesin’s soft eyes kindled an immortal youth. His silver hair reflected the warmth of golden flames coming from the candles. Thank you, he said, reaching out for the old man’s trembling, icy hand.

      The other man reached for the same hand. Anthony, sire, he said, staring into the monk’s eyes. It is with great love and honor to be with you once more.

      Anthony? I have never forgotten you. You’ve put on weight. I remember a lean, muscular man prepared to give his life for what he believed. You have a double chin, he laughed, just like the old Abbot. And you have no hair. The years have been good to both of you.

      Taliesin and I are companions, my lord, Anthony said, smiling.

      I’m not at all surprised. You two were inseparable as I remember. Come, sit on the bed, Anthony. My tale is long and a chair will eventually become uncomfortable, the monk said in a scratching, slow voice. Forgive me, Taliesin, but a man without power in his voice requires a solid ear to hear his story. Sit closer and promise to write down every word. When it’s all done and I am gone, you are to place the manuscript far from our enemies so that no man with a grievance will find it.

      I promise with all my love for God. It shall be as you request, brother, Taliesin said, dipping the quill into the inkwell.

      I have another request. Promise me this, dear friends, you will take my body from here and lay me beside my beloved Galehaut at Joyous Gard. Promise me this one thing or I swear I shall never rest.

      I promise you this upon my life, Anthony said, tightening his grip on the old monk’s hand.

      Then I shall begin. But, know this, every word is the truth, and may God have mercy on my soul.

      Silence followed. The old monk took a sip from the bowl of broth, coughed and spattered and Anthony quickly wiped away the spittle from his mouth and beard.

      And so he began.

      Scholars will analyze me for hundreds, maybe thousands of years to come and they have every right to their own opinion. They will say I loved Guinevere without guilt or fault, and that Galehaut, out of some profound sense of self-protection, sacrificed everything he possessed in return for my love which I selfishly kept for Guinevere. All of them will be mistaken. Why would I love Guinevere more? She could never be my wife, and besides, I know me. Scholars will assume that it is because of my love for Guinevere that Arthur fell from grace, but that is not true as you will soon find out.

      "Let me say from the outset that Galehaut did not care for what people thought. He believed that love is love and we should not be judged on who we love. He blindly fell in love with me at first sight out there on that godforsaken battlefield. Such poetic irony; love finding a home in battle. He gave me much, much more than Guinevere. He was Lord of the Distant Isles. An undefeated prince and king true to his belief that love conquered all adversity. How he must have felt when he first saw me on that battlefield. A madman running amok. I had lost all sense of decorum. I killed for the beauty of killing and no one could stop me. But he could. On the verge of victory, he surrendered to Arthur for my sake.

      Scholars will feminize me as part of a love triangle and elevate me as the grand prize. The winner would be allowed to have all of me. They will crucify my character for being selfish in my relationship with Galehaut. They will say the price I had to pay for my sexual indiscretion, my so called sin with Guinevere, was high.

      But they shall all be wrong. One cannot label love as a sin. For God is love and He demands that we all love. No matter who. Male or female. You see, I once knew a man, a brave, noble man who suffered greatly in life. A gracious, kind man. Tall with golden hair and the sky in his eyes. So blue were they that the finest of men and the most beautiful of women fell before him and sought immediate companionship. He could have loved anyone, but Galehaut, the son of the Giantess Bagotta and Lord Brunor, chose me.

      His father would not allow him to inherit land so , he conquered lands for himself. He defeated thirty island kingdoms, of which Sorelois and the Distant Isles were his homes. As a king, his people loved him for his fairness and charity and yet he started out as an adversary of King Arthur who regarded him as a rogue.

      It happened that Galehaut summoned Arthur to recognize his overlordship but the stubborn Pendragon refused and they went to war. Pendragon’s military was unprepared and Galehaut called for a truce. He gave Pendragon three hundred and sixty days to prepare and a year later they met in battle outside …

      ...Selice.

      Not one bird circled the sky that morning. Even the creatures of the earth and worms and vermin hid from the might of Galehaut’s army. His soldiers stood enmasse on the soaked ground outside the village. When they marched, the earth thumped with the sound of three-thousand warriors digging their boots into the earth and slapping their shields while reciting the songs of war. During the battle, Galehaut’s armies, under the command of several conquered kings, plodded forward and with every driving thrust plundered Arthur's weak defenses. Arthur’s best knight, Sir Gawain, fell wounded during the late afternoon and he no longer possessed the capacity to fight.

      From atop the hill overlooking the battlefield, Galehaut watched as Arthur's men fell. Swarms of fathers, sons and grandsons fought with honor and discipline, but all came unprepared for Galehaut’s onslaught. 

      At the very moment when Arthur realized his claim to victory hung in the balance, a knight in black armor and a laced helmet, led one-hundred aggressive, ready-to-die knights with arrows, swords, lances and spears onto the battlefield.

      The Black Knight raised his sword and charged, accompanied by the wrath of death, upon any who stood in his way. His sword severed heads from necks, cut arms from shoulders and drew blood from hearts. Galehaut’s men marveled at his skill and fled from this knight’s anger.

      Galehaut, anxious and confused by the retreat of his men, intercepted a soldier. Soldier! Where the hell are you going? The fight is that way.

      The man, looking all the worse for wear, replied, Check it out for yourself. There’s a madman on the loose.

      Galehaut asked, What madman?

      He’s killing everyone. He’s like a wild animal, an untamed lion.

      Galehaut turned to his emissary. Prepare my arms. I want to see this madman.

      Once armed, Galehaut rallied his men who sent out war cries across the field of battle. The Lord of the Distant Isles had conquered and plundered enough and more to know that something great had happened. Something he had never seen before. He joined the battle, always keeping an eye out for this knight dressed in black.

      Whilst all the knights fell around him, the Black Knight continued without hesitation or emotion. He had eyes in the back of his head to attack those who wished to slay him from behind. His heavy shield thwarted the blows from sharpened axes and long lances broke in two at the moment of impact. His shield and sword danced with his feet and several times he simply walked through a crowd of Galehaut’s soldiers swinging his sword; fearless men found it confusing to witness their entrails lying stretched behind them before realizing they were already dead.

      He was invincible.

      At dusk came the end of the day’s fighting and the knight found himself surrounded by a throng of Galehaut's victory-hungry warriors. The ring closed in on him and he placed his sword above his helmet. I have but one sword, he exclaimed. His name you will remember for all eternity. Which of you dare face Arondight?

      No one stepped forward, instead, they stared in awe at this man who would slay an entire army with one sword.

      Overwhelmed by the skill of this warrior dressed in black, Galehaut turned to his emissary. Stay here. I will have a word with him.

      His emissary tried to stop him, but Galehaut ventured forth into the circle while the knight beckoned more men to a challenge. The knight stood with legs astride, Arondight held ready to slay Galehaut in full view of his soldiers.

      Galehaut removed his helmet. His golden hair curled like the waves of the ocean and whisked about in the breeze coming off the plain. An aquiline nose complemented prominent cheekbones, but his best feature was his entrancing, sky-blue eyes. Hypnotic and unavoidable. The Black Knight had never seen such beautiful blue eyes in anyone. Flamboyant of character, the field filled with Galehaut’s sonorous, rumbling voice. I don’t want to fight you, he said.

      The Black Knight stood his ground and said nothing.

      You are brave, Galehaut continued. Let me see you. I wish to make your acquaintance.

      My head-dress remains. But you shall know me for this army will mourn your death here in this valley!

      Galehaut laughed. I don’t think so. Neither you nor I will die here today, or any other day. Face it, Pendragon is done. He relies on you to bring me to my knees, but dusk settles and the battle is over for the day. Quit now. If anything you’ll be remembered for it. Your knights are no more and Arthur’s army will be in retreat tomorrow.

      Don’t underestimate me. I’ll round up hundreds more to fight and send your arse back home wherever that may be, said the Black Knight, mounting his steed. I promise, tomorrow will be a different battle and you’ll be sorry that you ever set foot upon this land. With that the Black Knight galloped away across the field.

      Galehaut addressed his troops. Fall back! Gather up our dead. His men scattered among the corpses of their comrades and gathered them up with endearing respect then carted them away while Galehaut made after the knight.

      In the last light of dusk the knight yielded beneath a large tree and rested his steed. Galehaut, swift on his tail, rounded the tree and approached him with caution.

      Why are you following me? The knight said, threatening him with his sword.

      You raise your sword but I do not care to fight you. We should stop fighting. Galehaut said firmly.

      Arthur, nor I, will surrender, the knight said.

      I have not asked you to surrender. I’d really like to know who you are.

      A knight. That’s all you need to know.

      "And you’re the best knight I’ve ever seen. The

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