The castle loomed up through the mist, a pile of stone so tall that the top was lost in the clouds. Turret clambered on top of turret and appeared only to be prevented from collapsing by the supporting arms of buttresses pressed against each wall. Narrow slit windows in the ivy-clad towers provided vantage points for archers but obstructed the arrows of attackers. There was only one gate in the outer perimeter wall and that was defended by a drawbridge over the moat, wider than a catapult-lengths shot and deeper than a horse and rider together. But at the moment the drawbridge was down and the gate to the central keep open for in King Arthur's realm of Britain there was peace and the gaily-coloured pennants flew from every tower and belfry roof of the great palace of Camelot.

Trumpets sounded a sennet and in the Great Hall of the donjon a feast was in progress for today was Christmas Eve. Gonfalons were strung between the pillars, their coloured streamers giving a festive air to the already riotous proceedings. Young scullions from the kitchens, the prettiest only of course, brought in huge silver salvers containing ox and sheep steaks and roasted fowls. They were wearing only the shortest of tunics and there were tantalising glimpses of bottoms toasted pink by the fires of the kitchen and sometimes even the tip of a youthful dangling penis. It would be inconceivable of course for a knight to even think of rogering a cook's boy though it was quite acceptable to pat a rounded bottom or fondle a hanging prick as it passed and the knights took full opportunity so that the poor lads returned to their kitchens with raging erections to the great amusement of the cooks.

Arthurus Rex Quondam et Rex Futuri. Arthur, the Once and Future King, sitting on his throne under a baldachin woven with his coat of arms, surveyed his Court and was pleased. A fine bunch of fellows, he thought, some of whom he quite fancied. Sir Gareth over there, for instance, with his hand up a seductive scullion's bum - not his eating hand thank goodness - with his blond good looks and ready smile, virile young body and a cock which, so rumour had it, could pleasure an arse five or six times in a night. But Arthur had never approached any of his knights, for to make a move on one rather than on another would lay him open to the charge of favouritism and that would never do. The alternative would be to have all of them and at the thought he smiled to himself and instantly his pleasant, wholesome face with its healthy complexion became attractive and charming.

Then he sighed. It was in some ways a hard, lonely life being a King and some time he would have to get himself a companion - but whom to choose? To elevate one of the Company above his peers would invite all sorts of discord and that he neither wished nor could afford. Sir Morion, for instance, although King's Champion and sitting on the King's left hand, was always quick to take
offence at any slight, imagined or not. Arthur saw that even now he had his dark, deep-set eyes fixed on him, making sure that he, the King, was not doing anything which might be to his detriment.

The musicians on the raised dais at the end of the hall played a merry dance tune on pipes, tabors, rebec and shawm and soon, Arthur knew, there would be dancing and singing. He beckoned to a page standing near him to fill his drinking cup with wine. The youth did so and then stood near to him to see if there were yet further wishes from his sovreign that he could satisfy. He was a well set-up lad with long legs and a provoking bulge in his hose which Arthur, under different circumstances, would have liked to explore, but he held himself back. There was State work to be done later that evening, the visit of the French knight Sir Lancelot du Lac, with messages of Peace from the King of France. News had come that Lancelot had already landed some few miles down the coast and they awaited his arrival at any moment.

Arthur wondered what he would be like. The French were a curious people. Most seemed attracted to women and they ate too much garlic, in his opinion - but it was too easy to condemn a whole nation on the strength of meeting just a few individuals and Arthur would wait and see.

Ah, as he thought, someone had already started to sing a roundelay and others were joining in. Trays of sweet cakes and bottles of mead, the heady drink made from honey, were now being passed around by the long-suffering scullions, who secretly enjoyed the mistreatment they had to undergo and would fight amongst themselves for the privilege of serving particularly handsome Knights.

A Knight was dancing with his Esquire. Others got up to join in and soon the space in the centre of the hall was filled with young men whirling and jumping in time to the music, disturbing the dogs which were arguing over the meat bones flung to them. Assignations were probably being made, thought the King and most, if not all of his vassals would have company tonight - though he was destined for yet another solitary bed. Merlyn, his advisor and Court Wizard, sensed his melancholy and came to his side.

"My Lord the decision will be made soon - or perhaps has already been made." He looked confused for a moment, rubbing his fingers through his wispy grey beard. "It is so difficult when you are living backwards through Time."

Arthur sighed. Merlyn was wise and had great knowledge of alchemical lore but his obsession with the fact that he felt he was growing younger day by day, often confused them both.

A sennet sounded interrupting the tune, and both the rebec's melody played with a bow on three strings and the shawm's reedy wail faded into silence. The doors at the end of the Hall were thrust open and all the dancers paused in their activity, turning to face the entrance. A tall young man entered. He was dressed fashionably in the French style in green hose with a quilted cote hardie of blue velvet slashed so that the gold lining showed through. A darker gold hood against the weather was folded back onto his shoulders exposing his dark hair on which droplets of rain glittered in the candlelight. Over his left shoulder he wore a baldric from which a sword was hung. His features were regular and his eyebrows dark, shading the deep brown of his eyes. His shoulders were broad and his hips slim and his hose outlined a tantalising shape in the hollow of his groin. All this Arthur saw and then realised how attracted he was to this young visitor.

"Sir Lancelot du Lac," he announced himself and shook his head like a dog, making the drops fly in an aureole of rainbow colours, before approaching the King's throne and kneeling before him. "Majesty, I bring you warmest greetings from the King of France."

Arthur extended his right hand and the young man kissed it holding it for a moment in his warm palm. Arthur could feel the soft brush of his lips and a shiver of excitement went through his whole body.

"And you are warmly welcome, Sir Lancelot," said the King and motioned him to sit in the vacant seat at his right hand always left vacant for guests of importance. With his own hands he poured wine into a silver goblet and waited for him to drink, unable to take his eyes off the handsome stranger. Even so he was acutely aware that Sir Morion would be casting disapproving, possibly even jealous looks from his place on the other side.

"Let us leave affairs of State to one side for the present." Arthur suggested. "You are just in time for the entertainment," and he made a sign to Sir Peveril, the Master of Ceremonies who had been waiting in a damp state of apprehension all evening for this moment to arrive. Now he clapped his hands praying that all would go well, the acrobats not trip over each other, and the clowns would! Immediately the jugglers, sword-swallowers and magicians ran on to perform their respective skills. Sir Peveril need not have worried for none of his entertainers disgraced him only Merlyn showing disgust at the conjurers as he considered them little more than cheats and mountebanks.

When they had run off, the King announced, "Now we will make our own entertainment and pit our own strengths and talents against any comers. By custom, it is the King who begins and I claim the right to challenge our visitor from France at a bout. Will you indulge in friendly combat?"

"Willingly," said Sir Lancelot. "But what is the skill to be tested?"

"Let us ask the company," said Arthur, and as if from one throat came the reply, "Wrestling," for they knew the King's love of the sport and his talent for it.

Then Sir Morion spoke. "Sire," he said, "As King's Champion, I should take the King's part and place in any contest. I will fight against - this Frenchman," and he made the words sound like an insult."

"No, Morion," said Arthur, "this is a friendly contest and I will fight my own battle tonight," and with that Sir Morion had to be content though he showed no pleasure in it and returned to his seat with a black look on his face.

Then the King and Lancelot stripped off their doublets, tunics and linen undershirts leaving them in just their hose and the company made remarks about their personal equipment which created great merriment all round.

Lancelot was very lithe and agile, and Arthur recognised right from the start that he would need all his strength to win. For a while they circled like two dogs sniffing out an opponent's weaknesses. Then Arthur dashed in, grasped him round the waist and tried to throw him onto his back but Lancelot twisted free. The King's hand made a snatch for his thigh, but again Lancelot's speed at eluding meant that instead his hand fell into his crotch. It was soft and emminently grabbable but not an altogether approved wrestling hold so reluctantly Arthur released his grasp, but in doing so made it easy for Lancelot to twist a leg around his so that he overbalanced and both fell tumbling onto the rushes on the floor. Immediately Lancelot launched himself on top of him, and their torsoes were joined from chest to hips. Arthur rolled and managed to break free, and, quickly getting to his feet, seized Lancelot's waist from the back, both men panting and gasping as they pitted their muscles against each other. Arthur w as acutely aware that his prick was sandwiched between the twin globes of Lancelot's arse and rapidly becoming stimulated. Suddenly Lancelot bent down and put his hand between his own legs and straight to Arthur's fork,
grabbing hold of his member, and this time Arthur knew it was intentional. Realising that Lancelot must be touching his more than slightly aroused prick, he was not a little embarrassed and in retaliation he reached around and felt Lancelot's own crotch only to discover that his prick had reacted in the same way. Thus with each other's members in their hands, they remained for a while neither willing to let go, while the audience cheered and made ribald remarks at which, as if by mutual consent, they released each other and took a more conventional hold.

They grappled and strained for some time, their skins becoming slick and slippery with sweat, and then as a result of one last desperate thrust, Lancelot crashed to the floor and Arthur was on top of him, twining his legs with Lancelot's and in so doing rubbing their groins together. Lancelot was seized and held fast and lay there, seemingly exhausted and Arthur smelled the healthy body smell of him and felt the wild beating of his heart. So sure was he that he had won that Arthur relaxed his hold and at that Lancelot gripped Arthur around the waist and held him fast, his arms clasped around his opponent's back. Arthur was trying to concentrate on breaking free, but all he could think of was that their groins were pressed together. Through the double layers of woollen hose he felt Lancelot's cock against his, heated, hard flesh against equally hard flesh. They battled together as they tried out their respective strengths,

Arthur gripped even more strenuously, his arm muscles swelling as he tried to compel Lancelot to submit but neither was prepared to surrender. Their panting was harsh and Arthur smelled not the stink of garlic but the sweet wine on Lancelot's breath. It was like a kiss, their mouths only inches apart. Finally, as he breathed out, he whispered, "A draw?" and when Lancelot answered, "Agreed" they broke free gasping and laughing in true companionship.

Their arms around each other's shoulders, they returned to their seats and Lancelot took the opportunity to whisper, under cover of the general applause, "Perhaps, My Lord, we can bring the bout to a conclusion at a more private time," and Arthur was able to reply, "It will be my pleasure."

So the festivities continued though Sir Morion continued to glower from his seat until the King, becoming displeased, announced that he had important dealings with their guest which, so as not to bore the company, would take place in his private apartments. At which there was a roar of approval from the company, together with various suggestions as to what they would be doing which made Sir Morion even more discontent. Nevertheless Arthur, with a smile, led his guest from the Hall to his private rooms where there was a fire burning and servants brought bowls of warm water scented with rose oils to wash the sweat of their exertions from their bodies.

But Arthur dismissed them and took the duties upon himself and it seemed that Lancelot was only too pleased to submit for he stood there while Arthur gently stripped him of his shirt and, with a sponge soaked in the perfumed water, bathed his chest and upper body paying careful attention to his under arms where the dark hair sprouted. Then he dried him carefully with a linen kerchief.
Next he paid attention to the lower half and slowly rolled down and removed the woollen hose which covered his legs. This time he started at the feet, carefully cleaning between each toe and then continuing up those slender, muscled legs until he reached the fork where the essence of his manhood hung. Now the King caressed and fondled those private parts with the sponge, both fore and aft, until his prick was aroused and pointed jauntily upwards and Lancelot groaned with the pleasure of it.

Then the King knelt in front of him and kissed the end of his prick and took it into his mouth and he held his ball-sack in his palm and gently he sucked Lancelot's member and kneaded his balls and probed with his finger under the ball-sack towards his arse until the young man was near to orgasm. Then Lancelot protested and said, "My Lord it is not right that you should kneel to me. Let me attend to you so that we may come together and both know pleasure."

And conscientiously and reverently the Knight divested the body of the King of his clothing and washed him in the same way as he himself had been washed so that they both smelled sweetly of roses. Then they lay together on the bed and each took the other's members in their mouths and their heads were imprisoned between each other's thighs and it was as if they were again wrestling but this time the object of their attention was always their private parts. Their tongues were everywhere and not a part of their bodies, from between their toes to under their armpits, was not licked and sucked so that they were slick with saliva as before they had been slick with sweat. And their fingers entered the other's private orifices so that they were opened up and ready.

Then Arthur said, "Lancelot, I wish to enter within you."

And Lancelot answered, "My Lord."

So Lancelot lay on his back on the bed and Arthur stood between his legs which he placed on his shoulders. Then the King put his prick into the hole of Lancelot and gently pushed. And Lancelot squirmed and pulled in the King with his hands cupped round his buttocks so that he was buried deeply inside him. And the King looked down at the body lying acquiescently beneath him with its smooth olive skin that smelled of the Mediterranean and the dark, handsome face framed with his dishevelled hair and smiling lips and he said two words which, though whether for good or ill only time would tell, sealed the relationship between them.

"My Beloved," he said.

Then Arthur the King leant over and kissed him and it was as if a covenant had been signed between them and their tongues entwined while, at the same time, he pushed and withdrew and pushed again. His fingers traced the pattern of dark pubic hair on Lancelot's stomach and then up and down the vein underneath his prick. He increased the rate, both of the plunging into his arse, and the rubbing of his prick. At last he felt the passion building up inside him and knew from the pulsed clenching of the sphincter muscle that Lancelot was coming too. Suddenly it happened and both young men exploded in a tumultuous mutual orgasm.

They lay together all that night though neither of them had much sleep for when they were not satisfying a fresh arousal of their passion for each other's bodies, they were gently committing to memory all their lover's personal characteristics and peculiarities.

And on the morning of Christmas Day when the company met in the Great Hall, the Knights were pleased to see their King looking so happy. Nor were they envious seeing Lancelot continuing to occupy the seat at the right hand of the King and only Sir Morion harboured a grudge, though he was cunning enough to know that, for the time being at any rate, he must hide his rancour under a
pretence of approval.


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