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An Evening at the Rising Sun
The festive season of Yule had concluded, and Sir Percival, one of King Arthur’s skilled and trusted knights, was still an unmarried man at close to age twenty. Being single normally didn’t bother Percival all that much. Though quite nice-looking – tall, with a solid warrior’s build, sandy-blond hair, and pale blue eyes – he was relatively shy with women, and often felt the stress of approaching ladies was too overwhelming. But during the past couple of weeks, he had watched families gather to celebrate the season, and he’d begin to feel a pang of loneliness and longing. He hoped an evening at the tavern with his close friend, the lively Sir Gwaine, would help lift his spirits.
Percival and Gwaine were ravenous after their grueling evening of training in the frigid temperatures. King Arthur was adamant that his knights were to be as fit as possible. They’d all engaged in quarterstaff work, running, and hand-to-hand combat exercises. The king stated he wasn’t about to allow his men to become “lazy,” and that everyone needed to remain “fighting-fit,” regardless of the weather. It had been a complete relief to the knights when the king finally called for an end to the harsh training session; all the men were sore, exhausted, and famished.
Clad in their long scarlet knight’s capes, Percival and Gwaine swept into the Rising Sun, Camelot’s favorite tavern, grateful for the blast of warm air radiating from the fireplace. The Rising Sun offered cold mead and delicious food at fair prices, making it a very popular spot. After what had seemed like an endless evening of training, the two knights were relieved to take their usual seats at a well-worn, but clean table. Percival couldn’t wait to devour a substantial supper. The delicious aromas wafting from the tavern kitchen made his mouth water and stomach rumble with hunger.
Moments later, a young woman with waist-length raven hair approached Gwaine and Percival’s table, ready to take their orders. Percival had never seen her before. And the deliciously curvy, porcelain-skinned, blue-eyed woman looked like a Yuletide angel. To him, at least.
“Hello, Sir Knights,” said the beauty. “My name’s Christiane. My father, Will, just purchased the tavern, so I’ll be working here regularly. What can I get for you gentlemen this evening?”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Christiane. I’m Gwaine and this is Percival,” said Gwaine with a friendly smile. “We’ll each have a tankard of mead, and if you have any of those onion-stuffed beef rolls available, I’d love some.”
“Absolutely,” said Christiane. “We made some fresh this evening. They’re really delicious, aren’t they?” She turned to Percival and smiled. “And what can I get you, sir?”
Percival, stunned into silence by the presence of this angel, was unable to formulate a coherent sentence. He just stared.
Gwaine wrinkled his nose at Percival, and asked, “What’s wrong with you, man?”
A bright pink flush of nervousness crept up Perceval’s neck, and he prayed Gwaine would catch on and come to his rescue. Percival was having what he often referred to as “a moment,” which meant he was too nervous and overwhelmed to speak. The moments always happened at the most inopportune times.
Gwaine clearly caught on. “Percival’s just exhausted beyond words,” the knight said to Christiane. “He won five rounds during quarterstaff practice. Can you believe that? That’s enough to make any man a bit senseless!”
“Five rounds? Quite impressive,” said Christiane, with a slight grin, awaiting Percival’s order. When it became clear that Percival wasn’t about to speak, the young woman kindly asked, “Two orders of the beef rolls, then?”
Percival gave her a blank stare; he was hopelessly tongue-tied. And he feared if he opened his mouth, he'd babble, stammer, or say something ludicrous. So the knight did nothing more than give a weak and awkward nod. Christiane left the table side with a broad smile on her face.
Percival watched her walk away, and a sudden, erotic vision of the woman nearly knocked him out of his seat. He pictured her naked, in bed, writhing beneath him with pleasure. This wasn’t typical for Percival. At all. Of course, he'd found a few women attractive, but he'd never experienced such powerful and immediate feelings like these. It wasn’t simply physical attraction; it was something more, something stronger and more urgent. Percival felt drawn to her in an odd way that he couldn’t explain.
Gwaine chuckled. “Looks like you want to keep her warm on a cold winter's night. Am I right?”
“That'd be nice,” Percival mumbled absently in response, but quickly came to his senses. Why had he said that? Now Gwaine would never give him a moment's peace! Percival amended his comment. “I-I mean... she's pretty.”
Gwaine grinned. “Sure. Just a little pretty.”
Percival ignored Gwaine and leaned down to fiddle with his boot buckles instead. At that instant, Christiane returned to the table with two tankards of mead, a basket of warm, fresh bread, and plates piled with savory stuffed beef rolls. After placing down the food and drinks, she returned to the kitchen.
“You know, I was just trying to help you out before,” said Gwaine in the middle of wolfing down his meal. “I could tell you were having one of your shy episodes. It’s nothing to be ashamed of; it happens to all of us from time to time.”
“Quiet, please!” begged Percival with his mouth full. “No more talking. About any of it.”
Gwaine shrugged and dove back into his supper.
The instant Percival had drained his tankard and finished the final bite of his meal, he placed his coins down on the table, paying for Gwaine’s supper as well. “Come on. We need to leave right now.”
“All right, all right,” said Gwaine, choking down a morsel of food. “Could I swallow this bite first?”
Percival nearly dragged Gwaine to the tavern door. The towering knight felt desperately humiliated and wanted to leave before Christiane emerged from the kitchens again. The woman probably thought he was some type of simpleton, or a madman, or worse. But the two men hadn’t moved quickly enough. Percival and Gwaine were right at the exit when Christiane returned to the dining room. She collected Percival’s money off the table and started to clear the plates. She looked up and caught Percival’s eye for a long moment.
“Have a good evening, gentlemen,” Christiane called out.
“Goodnight!” said Gwaine. “It was nice meeting you! We look forward to seeing you soon.”
Christiane waved and gave a slight wink. Percival knew those gestures were meant for him, because Gwaine had already stepped out into the cold winter night.
“Goodnight,” Percival all but whispered in Christiane’s direction.
And then, the beautiful young woman shot him a radiant smile. “Stay warm tonight. I hope you'll come again."
The large knight was smitten. That gorgeous smile had claimed his heart. As he stepped out into the wintry cold, Percival promised himself he'd muster the courage to speak with the beauty soon. Very soon.
THE END