“I found this in the ship wreck.”
“What is it?”
“The Holy Grail.”
“Looks like it.”
Durce stood with his friend Morant on the cold beach as they examined the golden cup. Morant stood with a seal skin over his shoulder, dark hair dripping salt water, and wearing nothing else, looking like something like a man off of what would centuries later be called a bodice ripper.
You see, Morant was a Selkie. In the sea Morant was a seal. On land he transformed into a man and kept his seal skin with him. If someone took his seal skin he would never be able to return to his seal form. Fortunately Morant never had that problem.
Druce was a Warlock. In contrast to his dark haired dark eyed friend he had sun streaked hair and bright blue eyes, a look that would centuries later be known as a surfer dude.
But at this time they were living in the time of the Crusades. Everyone was looking for relics such as the finger bone of their favorite saint, a piece of the holy cross, or even the Holy Grail.
“Remember when Merlin came looking for his lost cup for King Arthur? Wink wink wink,” said Morcant.
“Galahad was the most pathetic of the lot,” said Druce as he polished up the cup with his sleeve.
“You’re right about that one. What ever happened to him?”
“He ran off with the daughter of a Viking. It was a PR nightmare for Camelot.”
“No kidding. Why didn’t I hear about that?”
Druce shrugged. He figured Morant must have been either in the ocean or in the bed of an number of women, both regular women and royalty.
“Seriously Druce,” said Morant. “I thought Galahad had sworn an oath of purity.”
“He did. Then again so had the Viking girl. She was to be sacrificed to the Gods but she and Galahad thought it made more sense to just run off together. Oaths of unnatural behavior rarely end well. Last time I heard they’d gone off to a yet to be discovered continent. At least discovered by the general public if you know what I mean,” said Druce. “Put your clothes on, the wind is picking up. You’ll catch your death from the cold.”
They talked as they walked up the beach towards their homes in the village.
“So Druce, how many Holy Grails do you have now?”
“This one makes a dozen,” said Druce with a sly smile.
Over the years he’d gathered Holy Grails from travelers of the world, disenchanted religious folks, lovers, and others. Sometimes he’d bring them out for dinner parties. At other times he’d use them as dishes for honey candy, or vases for wild water lilies.
When someone would bring Druce bits of bones, wood from crosses, vials of virgin’s tears or cloth shrouds, he’d send them up to the monastery on the other side of the hill. That is until Brother Mark ran out of storage space. Now Druce would just send up loaves of his famous seed bread in return for jars of honey from Mark’s amazing hives.
“It is thought,” Morant said, “that the Holy Grail will give one eternal youth. What do you think?”
“I think I have a full set now.”
Morcant laughed out loud and shook the last of the sea water out of his hair. “What do you want for dinner?”
“I don’t care,” said Druce. “As long as we have plenty mead and plenty of good company.”
What is in your heart is more important that what you have in your hand. Enjoy the relics of the past, and savor the hope of the future with good friends and those you love.
More Stories about Druce and Morcant
~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman
Reblogged this on West Coast Review.
I always thought that there were than one!!! 👺