Creative Writing: The Prince Of Camelot

“Men, for many of you, today is your first day training as a Knight of Camelot,” said Prince Arthur to the group standing before him. “And be grateful you’re not stuck in a torrential downpour as I was on my first day of training here on this very field. The sun is shining and I plan to work you hard.”

Percival, no, Sir Percival now, stood at attention and listened intently to Prince Arthur’s words. It was an honor to be a Knight of Camelot, and Percival took his title and duties seriously. And today, as one of the newly knighted, he possessed a deep desire to prove himself. As the tallest and largest man on the field, he knew people expected him to be strong, but what he wanted to prove was that he was agile, fast, and smart. Too many assumed he was a simple-minded lummox who barreled his way through life

thanks to brute strength alone. That was not the case, and he was ready to demonstrate his skills to all.

“All right, you may choose any weapon you like, except swords,” said Prince Arthur, and the men groaned. “I don’t want to hear a word of complaint! It cannot always be about the sword, sword, sword! Grab any other weapon and pair up, but no head blows today, since you’re not wearing helmets. Exercise care.”

Percival’s friend and fellow new knight, Gwaine, clapped Percival on the shoulder. “You and me, big man?” Gwaine eyed the trunk of weapons. “What do you think? Maces, flails, or hammers?”

“Maces. Let’s go with maces.”

The men selected their weapons and took their places on the field.

Meanwhile, Percival’s face grew hot and sweat dampened the back of his neck. Prince Arthur would be watching. All the men would be watching. He needed to be flawless today.

“And… go!” shouted Prince Arthur.

Two dozen pairs of men circled one another on the grassy training field, including Percival and Gwaine. Gwaine advanced, swinging his mace as if he was engaging with Camelot’s worst enemies. Fine. If that was how Gwaine wanted it… Percival spun away, then dealt a hard blow to Gwaine’s back. Unaffected and smiling, Gwaine turned and did a foolish little dance.

“Such immaturity,” muttered Percival, rolling his eyes as Gwaine continued his ridiculous jig.

However, in the midst of Percival’s eye roll, Gwaine lost his footing and careened forward. Gwaine’s mace connected with the top of Percival’s skull with a horrid cracking sound.

No. No, I am fine, thought Percival. It hurts, but I’ve suffered worse. He tried to shake off the pain, but stars crossed his vision and his knees buckled. He wanted to remain upright, but his body demanded otherwise. With his thoughts slow and muddled, he collapsed to the ground and knew no more.

XXXX

The sound of men howling with laughter jolted Percival into consciousness. He opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. He lay on a cot in the castle infirmary with Court Physician Gaius hovering. Percival tried to sit up, but Gaius placed a hand on Percival’s chest and urged him to stay put.

“Percival, I must ask you a few questions to assess your alertness,” said Gaius in a grave tone. “Who is the Prince of Camelot?”

“What are you talking about?” Percival shoved away Gaius’s hand. “How did I get here? And why are the men standing in the corner and laughing?”

Percival glared at his comrades, Gwaine, Elyan, Lancelot, and Leon, who cackled so hard they could barely stand up. What was so amusing?

“Never mind them,” ordered Gaius.

“please answer my question.”

“Arthur is the Prince of Camelot.”

“And what day of the week is it?”

Percival had to think hard for a moment; his thoughts were coming a little slowly. “Erm… Thursday.”

“And who is that man?” Gaius pointed at Gwaine.

“Gwaine, the biggest fool who ever lived.”

With tears of laughter in his eyes, Gwaine sauntered over to the cot. “Do you remember us helping you up here?” asked Gwaine, chortling.

“No.” Percival frowned. “I don’t.”

“Then you do not recall babbling the whole way about your ‘fluffy pink blanket’ and your ‘fluffy pink bunny’?”

Percival shot to his feet, but dizziness forced him to sit right back down on the edge of the cot. “I said no such thing.” The knights chuckled from the corner, and Percival turned to Gaius. “Did I, Gaius?”

“You, ah, you might have spoken a word or two about blankets or bunnies, perhaps ones pink in color…”

With a groan, Percival fell back against the cot. On his first day of training as a knight, he’d been bashed over the head, passed out in front of everyone, and then proceeded to embarrass himself by prattling about topics a young princess might speak

of.

“Leave me,” Percival told his comrades, rolling onto his side, facing away from them, Humiliation burned his insides and he did not want to speak.

“Oh, come on! It was hilarious,” said Gwaine.

“Gentlemen, perhaps you should leave for a time. Allow Percival to rest and recover,” ordered Gaius, shooing the men out of the room.

The knights heeded the order, and Percival turned to face them as they left; Lancelot was the only one to give Percival a small smile and nod of support.

“I’ll need you to remain here overnight for observation, Percival,” said Gaius.

“No, I must return to training.”

“You shall not until I deem it is safe.”

Great. Now Percival had to lie here overnight like a wounded girl. How much more awful could things be?

XXXX

It was after dark, and Percival lay on the cramped cot in the infirmary, stewing and not sleeping. Gaius had allowed Percival to eat a measly portion of pea-and-turnip pottage for supper, because Gaius insisted too much food after a head blow could “irritate one’s stomach,” Percival’s stomach was irritated, all right. Irritated with hunger.

And why did Gaius keep sweeping over to the doorway and gathering something from the floor? He had done it at least five times now. But this last time, Percival saw what it was: a pink blanket. As a joke, the men must have been stuffing them under the door and Gaius had been trying to hide them.

“Gaius, I know what’s going on,” moaned Percival from his cot. “Just give them here.”

With a frown, Gaius collected all the pink blankets he had stashed away and handed them over. There were at least ten of them. How would Percival ever live this down?

“I find, at times like these, it can be best to laugh along with the men,” said Gaius, his voice low and friendly.

“Right. I’ll try.”

But at the moment, the fresh sting of mortification made levity seem impossible.

XXXX

At sunrise, Gaius examined Percival and declared him fit to return to training today, but with the order he was to “take it easy” and “not engage in any full-contact exercises.” Then what was the point of training at all?

After washing up and stretching, Percival glared at the evil pile of pink blankets bunched on the floor, when suddenly, an idea came to him. A slow smile spread across his face. Gaius was right! To laugh along with the men was best, show them he could take a joke and move on.

“Gaius, can you help me for a moment?”

“Of course, Percival.”

XXXX

Right after the morning meal, Percival strode from the castle onto the training field, not wearing his usual knight’s cloak, but a cloak made of pink blankets. Under his arm, he carried a bunny he had fashioned from one of the blankets, though it looked more like a lumpy goat.

Nervous, Percival approached the line of knights standing in front of the weapons trunk. At first, the men pointed and laughed, but right after, they rushed Percival and expressed genuine concern for his well-being. Then, Gwaine, Elyan, Leon, and Lancelot all took turns wearing the pink cloak and petting the bunny. Prince Arthur even took a turn and declared the bunny would be named Gwaine.

After all the fooling around, Arthur took Percival aside. “I respect what you did,” said the prince. “Are you truly well enough to train today?”

“I am, sire.”

Arthur ordered the men to line up for a run, and Percival took his place. Before he set off on the run through the woods, Percival glanced at the pink blankets, which now lay discarded in the grass. He would keep them as a reminder to never take life too seriously, and that nearly any situation could be turned around for the better with a little good humor and patience.

THE END