Angusel reacts to Gawain's disgrace in Ch10/Sc1b of RAGING SEA by @KimHeadlee #amwriting

Graphic overlay c2016 by Kim Headlee.

Oftentimes, when someone expects high standards of himself, either in terms of performance or behavior, he also exerts similar standards upon those around him.

In the Lerner & Lowe classic Arthurian adaptation Camelot—the stage version as well as its silver-screen counterpart—this phenomenon is demonstrated by Lancelot when he suggests that Arthur initiate a training regimen for all Round Table knights. While Arthur embraces it for the fine idea that it is, the suggestion ensures instant friction between Lancelot and the rest of the court, Guinevere most especially. 

Today's excerpt from Raging Sea shows Angusel, my Lancelot character in The Dragon's Dove Chronicles, getting into trouble with Gyan (Guinevere) in a similar fashion.

Previous excerpts of Raging Sea 
Chapters 1–6 in Raging Sea: Reckonings

 Chapter 7: Sc 1 | Sc 2 | Sc 3 | Sc 4 | Sc 5a | Sc 5b |
Chapter 8: Sc 1a | Sc 1b | Sc 2 | Sc 3a | Sc 3b |
Chapter 9: Sc 1a | Sc 1b | Sc 1c | Sc 1d | Sc 1e |
Chapter 10: Sc 1a |

Raging Sea Chapter 10, Scene 1b

©2016 by Kim Headlee

All rights reserved.

“I thought he was in that unit too,” Drustanus murmured.

Angusel, who had been watching her, turned to follow the line of Drustanus’s gaze toward the procession’s tail to discover the he to whom his student had referred. What he saw made his heart lurch.

Gawain map Loth, clad in a plain cloak and traveling clothes, was riding between two uniformed guardsmen—if in fact “riding” could describe someone whose wrists were bound and whose mount was being led. Angusel shook his head and blinked, but the puzzling scene didn’t change.

As Gawain passed the enclosure, a gust of wind flung aside his cloak, revealing his back. The undyed linen of his tunic displayed several bloody stripes.

Only one explanation could fit these facts.

Angusel dropped his sword, sprinted to the rail, and vaulted it. The guardsmen tried to block his approach, but he dodged between their horses and dragged Gawain from the saddle.

“You! You disgraced yourself, and all of them!” Angusel vented his fury with his fists, drawing only token resistance from his target. “You bastard, you disgraced her!”

Though Gawain tried to protect his face, he did not disagree. It goaded Angusel to strike harder.

“Optio Ainchis Sàl a Dubh Loch, desist at once!”

She had ordered it.

He obeyed.

While the Pendragon and all the Comites Praetorii save the two men guarding Gawain continued toward the barracks, she had wheeled Macmuir about and was thundering toward them, her eyes blazing and her lime-spiked hair quivering as if readying barbs for an attack. She reined her stallion to a halt and maneuvered him in a tight circle to bleed off his unspent energy.

“You,” she said to Drustanus, who had run to the ring holding Angusel’s practice sword as well as his own. “Back to barracks.”

“Aye, Comitissa Gyan.” With his right fist still clutching a sword, he thumped his chest, nodded, and quit the ring at a dead run.

“You and you,” she addressed the guards, “escort your charge to the infirmary to have his wounds dressed, then bring him to my workroom. You”—her glare pinned Angusel in place, and his heart squirmed its response—“get yourself presentable for an audience with me. Immediately.”

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