Keepers of the Western Forest

by Chris Kennedy

  Chapter 7

   

  Darin had never imagined there were so many people in the whole world, let alone that they could be all together in one place at the same time.

  The great meadow that stretched from the edge of the forest to the glistening walls and towers of Camelot some quarter of a mile away was alive with folk, standing in groups or strolling between the many gaily-coloured tents pitched all around. It took him some time to pluck up the courage to ride out of the shadow of the trees. Although he was fearful of being asked his name or requested to open his visor, Darin was determined not to spend the day skulking in the woods.

  He steered Dart gently through the milling crowds. Knights sat or stood by their different pavilions while their squires busied themselves preparing arms and armour. A few of the squires looked in Darin’s direction; groups of people stared at him, talking among themselves in low tones as he rode by. Broderic’s story must have been passed around.

  The air suddenly thrilled to a sound Darin had not heard since his boyhood. Over by the rows of raised benches that had been set up at the end of the meadow, three men in scarlet and yellow tunics blew on long trumpets. People were taking their places, dressed in fine robes and talking excitedly together. When the fanfare was over, a herald stepped forward.

  “My lords and ladies, people of Camelot and all who are gathered here this May Day,” he cried out in a great voice. “Stand now for your King, the most noble Arthur, and his Lady, Guinevere, the Queen of the May!”

  There was another flourish of trumpets. A distinguished middle-aged man with a yellow beard, dressed in robes richly embroidered in gold and purple and wearing a jewelled coronet, stepped out onto the dais beside the public benches. At his side, a tall, graceful lady in a long green dress with a golden girdle, her red hair garlanded with flowers, flashed a radiant smile around the gathering. They settled themselves in the two huge carved chairs in the centre of the dais. On either side of them sat several noble-looking men. Darin guessed they were the great Knights of the Round Table; his mother had told him all about them. He wondered which one was Lancelot, which Gawain. These men had been his father’s friends.

  Again the herald cried out:

  “Let it be known that this day there will be jousting and that the knight who is declared champion will be presented with a fine falcon by the Queen of the May herself! All those wishing to join in friendly combat for this prize now take your places by the lists.”

  This announcement was greeted with loud cheers. Mounted knights started gathering in a fenced-off area nearby. Darin rode over to join them. Most of the knights did not look in his direction, but many of the squires who were in attendance were watching him.

  The jousting began. Pairs of mounted knights were led in turn to either end of the long narrow strip marked off for the contest and, at a signal from the herald, they would rush together with lance and shield. If both riders remained in the saddle, they would be allowed three passes in all and then would take their places back in the paddock. Mostly, however, one or other of the knights would take a tumble at the first or second pass and be forced to leave the field. Each time this happened, a great shout would come from the onlookers.

  Darin watched all this very carefully, hoping to learn how to joust like an experienced knight. It was not long before his turn came. A squire took Dart’s bridle and led him to his end of the lists. At the other end, he saw a knight with a plain shield closing his visor and levelling his spear. At the signal, he spurred Dart into a charge. He aimed his lance and did exactly as he had done when he met with Broderic in the forest clearing and easily unhorsed his first opponent. As he returned to the paddock, he recognized the Knight of the Stag awaiting his turn in the lists. Broderic raised his spear in salutation and Darin returned the greeting. He was beginning to enjoy himself.

  Throughout the morning, he continued his careful study of the other competitors’ fighting methods. He saw how many of the knights were content to hunch down low and rely on their weight and strength to stay in the saddle, while others employed various tricks and feints to emerge victorious. In his own encounters, he learned to watch his opponent carefully and adapt his technique to the situation, sometimes employing one or other of the tricks he had observed. By the early afternoon, he had unhorsed many knights.

  As he rode back after having defeated a knight with a red and black quartered shield, he saw that only one contestant was left in the paddock. As he drew nearer, he recognized the shield emblazoned with its single stag.

  Broderic opened his visor and smiled. “Well met, Sir! Now I shall have my revenge for yesterday’s fall.”

  “It would be no dishonour to lose to such a knight as you,” answered Darin. “But be sure I shall not make your victory an easy one.”

  A hush descended on the crowd as the two were led out to opposite ends of the lists. There was a trumpet blast and the herald announced that the time had come to decide who should have the prize, Sir Broderic of Camelot or the Unknown Knight. The signal was given and the two riders urged their steeds to the charge.

  Darin took the blow right in the centre of his shield. He dug his feet down and leaned forward to stay in the saddle, but his lance splintered in his grasp. He saw Broderic thundering by him and then he was at the other end of the lists. A squire was waiting for him with a fresh spear. Almost immediately came the signal for the next pass. 

  This time, he waited until the last possible moment to stand in his stirrups and thrust his body forward. As he did so, he leaned to the side slightly, aiming as far across Broderic’s body as he could. As he hoped he might, Broderic anticipated the blow a little too soon, moving his shield out to deflect it, and Darin’s spear struck him in the middle of his breastplate, lifting him clean out of his saddle. Darin heard the roar that went up from the spectators as he and Dart raced on to the end of the lists.

  Turning his horse, he saw Broderic lying on the ground and felt a sudden concern. He rode back towards the fallen knight, but two squires came forward to block his way.

  “Sir, are you well? I hope I have not hurt you?” he called.

  Broderic sat up slowly. He pushed up his visor. “A little dazed, sir, but otherwise all right, I think,” he replied after a moment. “It seems to me you have won yourself quite enough honour this day,” he added with a rueful grimace. Then he grinned broadly.

  The two squires approached Darin again. One of them took Dart’s bridle. “Well jousted, Sir Knight!” he said. “We are here to escort you to our gracious lady, Queen Guinevere, who wishes to reward your prowess in the lists this May Day.”

  They led him over to the dais, his spear still in his hand. Guinevere rose from her ornate chair and smiled down on him. An attendant appeared at her side bearing a hooded falcon on his gauntleted hand.

  “Well done, Sir Knight!” Her voice was warm and low, yet her words carried clearly. “By right, this bird is yours and I would like to hang this garland around your neck.” Her hands reached up to the flowers in her lustrous hair. “But first, I pray you, how shall I call you? And will you now not show your face to the Queen of the May?”

  “Aye Sir,” said the king. “We have heard of your vow, but you have won great honour this day. Now you may reveal yourself to us.”

  Inside his helmet, Darin’s face was burning. He knew that when Arthur spoke he must be obeyed, but he could not bear to let him or his beautiful queen see the horror hidden behind his visor. He sat there in silence, head bowed.

  Arthur scowled, his face suddenly flushed. “What means this insolence? You will show some courtesy to your queen—or pay dearly for your churlishness!”

  Darin could think of nothing else to do. In desperation, he turned Dart’s head around. Before anyone could try to stop him or give chase, he was galloping across the meadow, back to the shelter of the forest.