thief had attacked him, just before dawn, he had been unable to fall back to sleep. His stomach rumbled with hunger, even though the boy, Amren, had been true to his promise and had come back to give him the piece of potato.
He walked out of the still-sleeping town, heading down a road in search of a lake, or at least some information about the Lady of the Lake. Just as the sky was nearly light, he’d come to a monastery and knocked on the door.
The old monk who answered, Brother Louis, understandably mistook Bedivere for a beggar looking for a meal and ushered him into the monastery’s plain kitchen with its long wooden tables and huge fireplace. The breakfast of freshly laid eggs and newly baked bread went a long way toward restoring Bedivere’s strength.
“Do you know where I might find either the Lady of the Lake or her special lake?” Bedivere inquired of Brother Louis, who had sat down beside him as he swallowed the last of his bread.
“The followers of the old ways spoke of this lady,” the monk said with a serious expression. “It is said that she was close to Merlin, adviser to the king, and is herself a powerful sorceress.”
Bedivere had met Merlin, the ancient sorcerer, many times. He would have sought out his advice on this matter, but the old wizard had disappeared just months before the battle at Camlan. “Do you know where I might find the lake where this lady dwells?” Bedivere pressed the monk.
Brother Louis grew reluctant to talk about the subject. He tried to convince Bedivere that the world of enchanters, sorcerers, and spirits was best avoided. “You may stay here with us, if you wish,” he offered. “A monk’s life is simple, but it is holy.”
Bedivere was tempted to follow the monk’s advice. “I may, someday, do that very thing,” he said sincerely, “for I am heartsick and weary of the world. I’ve lost my desire for adventure, riches, fame…and even love. The idea of hiding away from the world in a peaceful life of prayer and service is immensely appealing to me.”
“Do it, then,” Brother Louis urged him.
Bedivere shook his head as he rose from the table. “I am duty-bound to perform a task, and to accomplish it, I must locate this lake.”
“There is only one lake that I have ever seen in this whole area. I stumbled upon it more than twenty years ago when I was lost deep in the forest on the other side of the road. Somehow I had wandered off the road, as if under the spell of some forest spirit, and could not find my way back. It was with great relief that I came to a rustic cottage beside a glistening lake.”
“A lake, you say?” Bedivere noted keenly.
Brother Louis nodded and continued. “When I knocked on the door, a gentleman with a military bearing prevailed upon me to perform a wedding ceremony. He was there with a woman of unearthly beauty, and I quickly sped through their vows and pronounced them husband and wife. No sooner had I finished the ceremony than a veil lifted from my mind and I knew clearly how to find my way out of the forest.”
“And where might I find this lake beside the cottage?” Bedivere asked.
“If you continue down this road, you will come to a trail leading into the forest, though it’s a hike of several hours,” he said. “I hear the road was made by Sir Ethan of Colchester, but I have not actually seen it myself as I have not left the monastery since that day I lost my way so many years ago.”
Bedivere thanked the old monk and headed on down the road. In several hours, he came to an area where it seemed that encampments had once been made and that a wide trail had been cut into the forest. Turning into it, he marveled at the dense foliage of this primeval forest. He could well believe that a magical lake existed in such a place.
He had walked for several miles when he climbed up a hill. When he got to the top, he gazed down at an unexpected sight.
He’d been searching for a rustic cottage and so hadn’t
He walked out of the still-sleeping town, heading down a road in search of a lake, or at least some information about the Lady of the Lake. Just as the sky was nearly light, he’d come to a monastery and knocked on the door.
The old monk who answered, Brother Louis, understandably mistook Bedivere for a beggar looking for a meal and ushered him into the monastery’s plain kitchen with its long wooden tables and huge fireplace. The breakfast of freshly laid eggs and newly baked bread went a long way toward restoring Bedivere’s strength.
“Do you know where I might find either the Lady of the Lake or her special lake?” Bedivere inquired of Brother Louis, who had sat down beside him as he swallowed the last of his bread.
“The followers of the old ways spoke of this lady,” the monk said with a serious expression. “It is said that she was close to Merlin, adviser to the king, and is herself a powerful sorceress.”
Bedivere had met Merlin, the ancient sorcerer, many times. He would have sought out his advice on this matter, but the old wizard had disappeared just months before the battle at Camlan. “Do you know where I might find the lake where this lady dwells?” Bedivere pressed the monk.
Brother Louis grew reluctant to talk about the subject. He tried to convince Bedivere that the world of enchanters, sorcerers, and spirits was best avoided. “You may stay here with us, if you wish,” he offered. “A monk’s life is simple, but it is holy.”
Bedivere was tempted to follow the monk’s advice. “I may, someday, do that very thing,” he said sincerely, “for I am heartsick and weary of the world. I’ve lost my desire for adventure, riches, fame…and even love. The idea of hiding away from the world in a peaceful life of prayer and service is immensely appealing to me.”
“Do it, then,” Brother Louis urged him.
Bedivere shook his head as he rose from the table. “I am duty-bound to perform a task, and to accomplish it, I must locate this lake.”
“There is only one lake that I have ever seen in this whole area. I stumbled upon it more than twenty years ago when I was lost deep in the forest on the other side of the road. Somehow I had wandered off the road, as if under the spell of some forest spirit, and could not find my way back. It was with great relief that I came to a rustic cottage beside a glistening lake.”
“A lake, you say?” Bedivere noted keenly.
Brother Louis nodded and continued. “When I knocked on the door, a gentleman with a military bearing prevailed upon me to perform a wedding ceremony. He was there with a woman of unearthly beauty, and I quickly sped through their vows and pronounced them husband and wife. No sooner had I finished the ceremony than a veil lifted from my mind and I knew clearly how to find my way out of the forest.”
“And where might I find this lake beside the cottage?” Bedivere asked.
“If you continue down this road, you will come to a trail leading into the forest, though it’s a hike of several hours,” he said. “I hear the road was made by Sir Ethan of Colchester, but I have not actually seen it myself as I have not left the monastery since that day I lost my way so many years ago.”
Bedivere thanked the old monk and headed on down the road. In several hours, he came to an area where it seemed that encampments had once been made and that a wide trail had been cut into the forest. Turning into it, he marveled at the dense foliage of this primeval forest. He could well believe that a magical lake existed in such a place.
He had walked for several miles when he climbed up a hill. When he got to the top, he gazed down at an unexpected sight.
He’d been searching for a rustic cottage and so hadn’t
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