It was after sundown by the time the camp was functional, and Perceval’s stomach growled. He settled in front of the main fire on a log, his supper of turnip and venison stew balanced in his lap. Michael sat off to the side, whispering with Rona, as had become his pattern of late. It was odd, because the jocular and sociable Michael was usually the first at the fire to tell jokes and instigate rowdy behavior.
Exhaustion kept the men around the fire mostly quiet and focused …show more content…
No one meandered through life with ease, it seemed, regardless of their station in life or kingdom.
“Bloody underworld, my bollocks are chafed,” announced Gawain à propos of nothing, but his inappropriate observation made several men chuckle.
An unidentified projectile sailed through the air and smacked Gawain on the cheek. “Oi! What’s this?” He scraped the slop off his cheek and tasted. “Mmm, turnip. Michael, was that from you?”
“Yes, and you deserved it. No discussing raw nether regions in front of a lady.”
“True, true. My apologies, dear Rona. Probably should not discuss my constipation, then…”
Several soggy turnip bits smacked into Gawain after that. He shifted on his log and winked at Perceval. This was Gawain, the first to lighten the mood, the first man at a fallen soldier’s side, and sometimes, the only one bolstering confidence when it flagged.
Gawain was the finest man Perceval knew, and he was honored to call him a friend. He made facing possible death somewhat less terrifying. For if Perceval was to fall, to have Gawain at his side would be an