by Robin Cook
“You are so insulting,” came the voice of the little sister. “You were rude to King Meljanz as well. That’s why we have all this trouble.”
“Don’t you talk about things you know nothing about,” retorted Obie.
“Now, that is quite enough bad manners for one day,” came their mother’s voice, and they moved off out of earshot. Gawain cast a discreet glance up at Obie. She was very attractive, with long, dark hair, and she had dressed to flatter her beauty.
Preparations continued on the plain before the city and knights began to ride up and down for the Vesper Tournament, in which they could test each other’s skills before the battle the next day. Obie, however, sent a messenger down to ask Gawain if his horse were for sale. When he declined, she sent a steward to tell him he was selling fraudulently and his goods would be impounded. Then she tried telling her father he was a swindler.
Duke Lippaut decided to deal with the matter himself and went to meet Sir Gawain. He knew immediately that his daughter had just been making mischief, and instead of driving him away, asked for his help.
“Please come in and let me welcome you,” he said. “I need the advice of an experienced man like yourself.”
“I hesitate to take sides here,” said Gawain. “I was hoping to be able to find a way of reconciling the two parties. Tell me, does your daughter actively dislike King Meljanz?”
“Far from it. It has become clear to me that in fact she loves him, but her pride is so wounded by his angry rejection of her demand that he woo her properly that she now refuses to talk about it.”
Gawain nodded.
“Could you have a look at the dispositions of my defenders?” said Duke Lippaut. “Tomorrow I would like you to lead a group of knights in the early encounters.”
Gawain demurred, but the discussion went on for some time before they parted and Gawain agreed to give it all his consideration. As they went to leave, they found Obilot and her friend Clauditte playing in the next room.
“Oh, Father!” cried Obilot. “I’ve been waiting for you. Let me speak to the stranger knight. I want him to do something special for me!”
The two men exchanged smiles.
“Let me introduce you. Sir Gawain, my daughter Obilot, and her friend Clauditte.” Both girls giggled and then looked serious.
“It is a great honour,” replied Gawain, bowing courteously.
“Please may we speak with you?” said Clauditte, holding the doll she had been playing with under her chin.
“Of course. Please…” He gestured to the room he had just been in. The two little girls danced past him and settled themselves carefully on a bench, while Lippaut gave a little wave to Gawain, as though to say, ‘I’m sure you can deal with this,’ as he left the room.
“Now, is there anything I can do for you?” asked Gawain.
“Yes, indeed,” Obilot replied. “I have come to ask you to be my knight and to serve me.”
Gawain looked at her intently.
“This is the first time I have ever spoken to a man like this, and I beg you to do this for me and my father. He is in great need of help because of my sister’s behaviour. I will offer you my love with all my heart because you are a good man.”
Gawain took this all in and replied gently, “You must understand that pledging my loyalty to a lady is a great matter to me, and you are… very young.”
Little Obilot’s lip began to quiver and two large tears collected in the corners of her eyes.
Gawain was overwhelmed by sympathy. “But because you ask me with such dignity and kindness, yes, I will bear arms in your honour. In the coming battle I will fight for you as my lady.”
A radiant smile illuminated Obilot’s face and she wiped away her tears. “I am so happy! Now you will help my father, and I will give you courage and good fortune.” She got up and clapped her hands with pleasure, then turned to Clauditte, and both girls joined hands and danced around in delight. “Now I am going to get a token for you to wear, as you are now my knight!”
She and Clauditte skipped merrily out of the room and Gawain was left smiling to himself and wondering how he had come to agree to this. As the girls ran out and down the wide stone staircase, they met Lippaut coming up.
“Oh, Father! Father!” cried Obilot. “Sir Gawain is my knight and will rescue us. But I must find a token for him to wear into battle. What can I give him?”
“Give him one of your dolls,” said Clauditte. “Or you can have mine!” She thrust it towards her friend. Their enthusiasm was infectious, and Lippaut smiled broadly.
“I have a better idea!” he said. “Let’s ask your mother. She will know what to do.”
When they went to see the duchess, she was supervising the making of a new dress for Obilot, who was enchanted by it. After much discussion it was decided that the lining of one of the sleeves would be presented to Gawain. With immense pride, Obie took it to him. He accepted it and admired it, before nailing it on his shield and giving her courteous thanks.
When dawn broke and the sun struck the lofty towers of the city, Duke Lippaut and Gawain were already on the ramparts, watching the plain seethe in a mass of lances and pennants. In the centre were the foot soldiers with archers were just behind them. The trumpeters and drummers blasted out the challenge and set the dread beat of war. As the advance began, Gawain and Lippaut went down to take command of the waiting knights at the two main gates. There were shouts of anticipation as the two leaders made their way to the front. They gave the order and the massive gates swung open. The trumpets snarled and Gawain galloped out, his men fanning out on either side of him.
The fortunes of war ebbed and flowed. There was no clear advantage for either side, and at one point Meljanz was within an ace of capturing Lippaut himself but for the timely arrival of Gawain. Many notable knights were captured and hostages were taken on both sides.
Finally, the rush and crush of conflict brought Gawain face to face with King Meljanz again. The king had been carrying all before him and it seemed as though his forces would break through, but at the crucial moment Gawain attacked. They struck each other fair and hard and both were unhorsed. Gawain’s horse, with a terrifying whinny, disappeared into the melee, but he had no time to concern himself with that as Meljanz came at him, sword in hand. The contest was short but decisive. Gawain parried the blow and, with a swift riposte, sent Meljanz’s sword spinning into the press. Gawain called on his supporting knights and they captured Meljanz and led him off in the middle of a tight-knit group before his own knights could come to his rescue. Swiftly they moved off the battlefield and within moments had him safely inside the walls of Bearosche.
Dismay spread through the besieging army as the news spread that King Meljanz himself was captured, and they began to give way and lose some of their hard-won ground. However, all was not well in Bearosche, for Gawain discovered that many of Duke Lippaut’s best fighters had been captured. Lippaut explained that a mysterious red knight – they called him the Nameless Knight – had caused many of the losses.
Gawain and Lippaut hastened up to the battlements to decide on their next action, and to see where the Nameless Knight was fighting. The fighting was dying down and the Nameless Knight was not to be seen. They watched a messenger bearing a flag of truce make his way to the main gate and went down to meet him. Having quickly negotiated the truce, Gawain listened with interest. The Nameless Knight had appeared from who-knows-where and had taken many hostages, but when he saw that King Meljanz was captured he withdrew his support and demanded that the hostages take up the quest of the Holy Grail and search for Montsalvaesche. When they protested that they knew nothing about it except that it was almost impossible to find, he told them to go to Pelrepeire and offer their services to Condwiramur. Gawain smiled. The Nameless Knight was Parzival all right.
Duke Lippaut called a meeting in the great hall and the important personages on both sides attended. According to the rules of chivalry, Sir Gawain handed King Meljanz over to
Obilot, and she accepted his service. After talking to her mother and father, the little girl said to Meljanz, “I understand that you have granted me your service, having been defeated by my knight, Sir Gawain. But I renounce this and ask instead that you cease your anger against my sister, Obie.” At this she glanced towards her older sister, who was standing next to their father, chewing her lip nervously. “Obie,” she continued, “it was very unkind to dismiss the king’s declaration of love. I know you love him really. Accept his apology.”
There were many smiles exchanged amongst the onlookers when they looked at King Meljanz’s confused face and the discomfiture of the blushing Obie. There was an expectant silence.
“My little sister is right,” began Obie hesitantly. “I treated you disdainfully and I am… sorry.” She looked at him, wondering how he would react.
Conflicting emotions played across Meljanz’s features, but he said, “My lady, allow me to put aside my wounded pride and ask that you take me for you husband.”
A great cheer went up. Obie blushed, but this time with pleasure, and went to kiss him, and he took her gratefully in his arms.
So all was happily resolved and the only unhappiness came the next day when Gawain said he had to leave. Poor little Obilot wept with dismay, but Gawain spoke to her kindly and assured her all would be well.
“But I will never see you again,” she complained.
“That we do not know. But I know I will never forget you and what you did yesterday. You will grow into a fine lady. I will always be proud of you.” Obilot began to look a little mollified, and Gawain added, “Make sure you invite me to your wedding, otherwise I will be very cross!”
He mounted his horse and set off, turning as he got to the gate to wave her goodbye, for he was sad to leave the little girl who had so touched his heart.
Chapter 8
Gawain had much to ponder as he rode off towards the kingdom of Ascalon and the city of Schamfanzun. It was a considerable distance and he had plenty of time to think. How strange that Parzival should have been fighting on the other side at Bearosche. They could easily have met in the thick of battle, and who knows what might have happened in the heat of the moment? Gawain gave a little sigh of relief as he thought about it. Then his thoughts drifted to little Obilot and he smiled at his own weakness. And that Obie! She had really hurt him with some of her insults. But perhaps he deserved them; perhaps when he made decisions he was just like a merchant weighing up the profit and loss. He also thought about the Castle of Wonders, which so many other knights had set off to find. After this task was over, he longed to go on that quest.
Gawain rode over a mountain pass, through a densely wooded valley and over the shoulder of a hill until he came in sight of the city of Schamfanzun. There was a wide river winding through well-cultivated fields, and cattle grazed along the banks. He made his way down towards the river, following a rather poor track that became increasingly boggy until he had to abandon it, instead picking his way through the marshland. At this point he became aware that he was not alone. He heard a lot of shouting and cursing, as though someone was in trouble.
It looked like three horsemen had got into difficulties and dismounted to try to help their mounts out of the bog and onto firm ground. Some were fetching branches to try and construct a makeshift causeway while others were shouting instructions or encouragement, and there was a certain amount of bad temper from those who were stuck. It was not long before Gawain was noticed.
“What’s your business?” said one, rather belligerently. “You know this is the king’s hunting ground?”
“I’m going to Schamfanzun. I have the protection of Kingrimursel.”
“I’ve heard nothing about that. What’s your name?”
“Gawain.”
“Well, that’s King Vergulacht over there. Just keep your distance while we get him out.”
Gawain nodded at this rather blunt approach, and sat down to watch the rescue operation while the huntsman sent a lad to the king with his message. The king and his attendant lords were soon on firmer ground, though clearly soaked to the skin and muddy with it. There was more shouting as the king was brought some dry clothes, and then he made his way over to Gawain.
“I’m sorry to greet you like this. My hawk stooped on a heron. Brought him down over there. Misjudged the terrain.” He looked challengingly at Gawain, his face besmattered with mud, with more clinging to his hands and boots. “So you are Gawain. Kingrimursel told me about you. You better go on ahead and I’ll join you later.”
“Thank you very much,” said Gawain, a little unsure how to deal with his rather abrupt manner. “I’ll go on and await your return.”
“Yes, I’ll come as soon as I can. One of my squires will escort you. Oh, and my sister Antikonie will look after you, just tell her I sent you. She knows what to do. She’s very hospitable.”
Gawain fell in with this arrangement and half an hour later was riding through the gateway to the castle. He was cordially received: his horse was taken to the stables and he was offered a room in which he could wash and put on fresh clothes. Afterwards, a maid led him through to a room that looked out over the castle gardens, where he met Antikonie, who was sitting by the window and sewing with her maidens. She got up when she saw him and smiled warmly. Gawain was immediately struck by her beauty. She had full red lips and her dark hair was drawn back from a fine brow. He could not help but be struck by her poise and simple but striking appearance as she came to greet him.
“Welcome!” she said. “I have received news of your arrival from my brother, and he has told me to take good care of you.” She looked him full in the face and the frankness of her gaze disconcerted him a little. She said, “I am sorry that you have come in order to fight. Vergulacht told me about it.”
“Madam, you are more than kind. I, too, regret the cause of my coming hither, but must also be grateful, because for that reason I also have the honour of meeting you.” He looked straight into her eyes and she held his gaze for a moment before giving him a charming smile.
“Come, let me greet you as princess greeting a prince should.”
She stepped quickly forward and kissed him full on the lips, but before he could react she moved back to her ladies in the window.
“Now, Gawain, I have heard so much about you. Come and talk to us.” She settled herself amongst her women and motioned with her head to a chair.
“Lady, I will gladly do so, but first I must thank you for your enchanting welcome. I consider it a privilege to be invited to converse with you.”
“Oh, not at all! You must understand we have few visitors here. I love to hear what is going on in other places.”
And so they talked, hanging on each other’s words. Gawain spoke of his training in Arthur’s court, and Antikonie asked about Queen Guinevere, and whether he had met Sir Launcelot, and insisted on him describing the great banquets held and the jousting and the ceremonies of the Round Table. When he asked about her and her upbringing, she sighed, took him to the window and showed him the castle garden and its walls. These, she said, were the confines of her life. They sat down together on the window seat and she confided in him her love of music and dance. Antikonie had a charming habit of emphasising a point by touching his arm, and Gawain felt himself more and more attracted to her. When he moved a little closer, she did not move away, and soon it was apparent to the ladies that the two only had eyes for each other. Secret smiles and glances were exchanged and, one by one, the ladies found excuses to leave. They loved their mistress and knew she longed for love… and Gawain was very handsome.
Antikonie noticed that they were alone, and when she leaned forward to tell Gawain something particularly confidential, their lips almost touched. Gawain could resist her no longer. Her lips were so rich and red, her breath so sweet… She was all a man could desire.
“Antikonie,” he murmured, “you are the most beautiful woman I have ever met. None of the ladies at King Arthur’s court can compar
e with you.”
She brushed her lips softly against his, but then drew back and said laughingly, “Such a flatterer! We scarcely know each other and—”
Gawain stopped her mouth with a passionate kiss.
“Can we go somewhere else… more private?” Gawain sighed.
“How can you think…? So soon…? But…” She struggled with her own desires and kissed him fervently again.
Suddenly the door opened, and an old knight stood and took in the scene. They sprang apart, Antikonie adjusting her dress and blushing to the roots of her beautiful hair. Gawain stared in dismay.
“What’s this?” roared the knight. “What do I see? Help! Ho! Men-at-arms!”
He bellowed down the corridor and Gawain and Antikonie sprang to their feet.
“You think you can come here and take advantage of the princess? To arms!”
“Quick!” said Antikonie. “Follow me.” She took Gawain by the hand and made for the door.
“Out of my way!” she said, imperiously waving the old knight out of the way.
He took a step back in surprise but continued to shout for help. “The Princess Antikonie is being abducted! There is a seducer in our midst!”
Gawain pushed him roughly out of the way and he and Antikonie ran off down the corridor. They dashed through an open door, took a flight of steps two at a time, along another corridor, up more stairs, then through three rooms that ran into each other, and then they paused for breath. They could hear shouts coming closer.
“We should have gone the other way at the bottom of the stairs,” panted Antikonie. “There’s only one thing for it… This way!” And she was off again.
Gawain felt a tumult of conflicting emotions. He was not worried about a fight, all his nerves were tingling with the excitement of that, but he felt he had behaved badly as a guest. Yet when he looked at Antikonie, delightfully flushed with the thrill of the chase… the colouring on those beautiful cheekbones… He would do anything for her!
