Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 150

This week's picture prompt is of the bronze sculpture of King Arthur which stands on top of the Tintagel Cliffs in Cornwall, UK. It was made by sculptor, Rubin Eynon, and there's some interesting angles and pics of how it was made on his website.  

This particular image has been taken by Chris Smith, from the UK, who shared it on his page on Flickr.

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.

Last Stand

He was ragged and worn, but he stood strong. He wasn’t one to give up easily, he hadn’t at Camlann, and he wouldn’t now. From his vantage point on the cliff he could see the whole of his retinue: the tent tops, the open fires, the injured. They might be having a respite to regroup and bury their dead, but they weren’t done yet. He could still hear laughter and singing.

He glanced up at the horizon, at the sun setting into the ocean, giving off its light as though refusing to give in. They would rise again, as it would, but for how much longer?

“Your Majesty, Karl Duggen has arrived for the meet.”

Arthur turned, and smiled at his aide. “Good. I’ll be there forthwith.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” His aide retreated.

“Oh, and John-Arran?”

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Don’t forget to alert Humphries and Pathanridge, I want them there too.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” He turned and rushed off down the hill.

Arthur paused, taking one last breath of the sea air. He thought of home and his beautiful wife, Guinevere. How he longed to be in her arms, and he hoped he would again this side of death. This meeting would be the decider. With that thought in mind, he made his way down.

When he joined Humphries and Panthanridge, along with his aide, in the large pavilion Arthur called home, Duggen and his entourage were not there.

“Where is he?”

“Freshening up, Your Majesty,” said his aide.

“He’s had plenty of time for that, what’s he really up to?”

“He was spotted talking to some of the troops, Your Majesty,” said Humphries.

“Go and escort him here, this minute!” Arthur bellowed.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Humphries and Panthanridge rushed out of the tent.

“Ridiculous! Making me wait. Who does he think he is?”

A few minutes later a small, unobtrusive man in a long robe, flanked by Humphries and Panthanridge, appeared at the entrance to the pavilion. Behind them three more robed men remained outside.

“Finally,” said Arthur, stepping forward to receive a bow from Duggen. “Where have you been?”

“Apologies for my delay, Your Majesty, but I thought it prudent to get the sense of the battlefield mindset.”

“The what?” Arthur hated Duggen’s simpering tone and slimy grin; trusting this man was like trying to hold an eel fresh out of the water, but he had a canny ability to know the next step in a battle.

“Battlefield mindset – it means what state of mind the soldiers are in: hopeful or not, and whether still keen to fight for their King.”

“And?” Arthur lifted an eyebrow.

“They’ve never been keener. It seems the last skirmish left them eager for retaliation.”

“Good.” Arthur smiled. “And what else can you share that might aid our next step?”

“You may feel you’re not in a good position, in this corner with the sea at your back, but you have the upper hand.”

“Really?” Arthur was keen to know more. “Our enemies don’t?”

“No, they don’t. They don’t see what is coming at their backs, they assume the advantage.”

“And what is coming at their backs?”

“Your are, Your Majesty, if you are so inclined to be.”

“Preposterous!” Humphries said.

“Shh, Humphries, let the man speak.” Arthur waved him into silence. “And how can we get at their back?”

“What do you see behind you, King Arthur?”

Arthur frowned. “Water, water’s behind me.”

“Then take to it.”

“Take to it? But we have no ship!”

“Do you need one?” Duggen’s eyes glinted.

“What are you getting at man? Out with it!” Arthur hated being led.

“You understand the sea, yes? The ebb and flow. What happens at low ebb?

King Arthur and his men looked at each other, puzzled. “More beach?”

“Exactly! Along with a path round the headland. It’s narrow, but it’s enough for a single file of men. It only lasts an hour or two, but it will get them to the next bay.”

“Good Lord!” exclaimed Arthur. “We had no idea! Thank you Karl Duggan, we are in your debt!”

This time Arthur bowed first, staying down until Duggan exited the tent.

“Ready the men for the next ebb, Humphries, and Panthanridge? Go with Duggan to find out where it will appear.” Both men ran out to complete their tasks.

Arthur picked up a goblet and raised it. “We might just win the day, John-Arran.” He took a swig. “We might just manage to see home again.”