"Well then, why the devil did you?" Gawain demanded.
"Did I hear your friend call you Gawain?" the knight asked, ignoring Gawain's question.
"He may have. It is my name."
The knight climbed shakily to his feet. "King Arthur's nephew?" Gawain nodded. "Sir Gawain, it is a pleasure to meet you. Pleasure!" He laughed suddenly. "Much, much more than a pleasure. How strange that I, who have longed for words for so long, should recover them only to find them so inadequate!"
Tor walked toward the two, his hand never far from his sword. Gawain nodded toward him. "This is Sir Tor, also of King Arthur's court."
The knight held out his hand. "A pleasure, Sir Tor," he said.
Tor muttered, "More for you than for me," but he took the offered hand.
"I am Sir Marhault of Cornwall. I do apologize for upsetting you, Sir Tor. I'm afraid I owe you an explanation."
"Do you have a tale to tell?" Gawain asked.
"I do. A very short tale, but one that has seemed long to me."
"You shall tell us after dinner," Gawain pronounced. "That is, if you'll stay."
Sir Marhault unlaced his helm and took it off, revealing an open, friendly face. He seemed to be about thirty or thirty-five. "I'd be delighted," he said.
***
That evening, as the summer daylight finally began to fade, the three knights and two squires sat around a dying fire, comfortably full, and Sir Marhault told his story.
"As I told you," he began, "I am from Cornwall, where Mark is king, Isoult is queen, and I was the flower of knighthood. From my earliest years, I have had stronger sinews and greater agility than my peers, and by dint of much practice and diligent study achieved a great proficiency in the knightly arts. Ere I had truly reached manhood, I had unhorsed the most highly acclaimed knights of Cornwall, including King Mark himself, and I was given great worship by knights and ladies alike. It is not mysterious then, that I should have grown vain, and as the years passed and I conquered ever more young knights, my vanity grew exceeding great.
"Then, just over a year ago, I met a fair lady who much beguiled my jaded eyes; yet would she not disclose her name to me. When I asked her for her reason, she would say merely that she would disclose her name only to the greatest knight of the land. I laughed and boasted to her that such was I, and then said that no knight ever had or ever would defeat me. However, this lady was in sooth an enchantress, acquainted with the future. She told me that someday I should be defeated by one who would claim much greater fame than ever I had earned, and further, she cast a spell over me, saying that until I had tasted defeat myself, I should be unable to boast, yea even to speak again.
"Since that time I have been a silent wanderer, seeking knights with whom to joust, hoping finally to meet one who would match me. Until I met you, though, Sir Gawain, I found none. And now, having been released from the spell, I know that the greatest victory is not won with one's strength but is won over one's own weakness."
Gawain, Tor, and Sir Marhault stayed up late that night, talking over their battles and what Sir Marhault called the knightly arts. Finally, the party broke up, and each crawled thankfully under his blankets. Terence stretched out in his bedding, not far from Gawain's, and waited until everyone's breathing sounded even and quiet. Then, hesitantly, he reached out and touched Gawain on his shoulder.
From the slight jerk of Gawain's body, Terence knew that Gawain had been asleep, so he hurriedly whispered, "Milord?"
"What is it, Terence?" Gawain whispered in reply.
Now that he had managed to get Gawain alone, Terence was not sure how to begin. Somehow, he had felt that his message from Robin was for Gawain's ears alone. He licked his lips uncertainly.
"Terence?" Gawain whispered again. "Is something wrong?"
"No, milord. I ... I have a message for you."
"What sort of message?" Gawain's whisper had grown softer, but Terence could not mistake the sharpening interest in his tone.
"Milord, have you ever heard of something called 'the Seelie Court'?" Terence asked finally.
"What do you know of the Seelie Court, boy?"
"Nothing, milord. What is it?" Terence pulled himself a few inches closer.
For a moment Gawain said nothing, then he whispered, "The land of the faeries is divided into two, Terence: the Seelie and the Unseelie Courts. The Seelie Court is the court of the benevolent faeries -like the Pechs, the building folk of Scotland, and the Dheena Shee peoples, even the little brownies and so forth. They aren't always friendly, but they aren't by nature evil. The Unseelie Court is made up of hags and ghouls, trolls, goblins, and the like, who all live only to do evil to men." Gawain paused briefly. "Now you tell me where you heard about the Seelie Court."
"I met a ... a messenger from the Seelie Court today. In the forest."
"You're sure this messenger was from the Seelie Court?"
"He ... he said he was," Terence faltered.
"So do they all, lad."
"Oh," Terence said.
"Never mind, Terence. What did he say?" Gawain asked softly.
"He said ... he said that this quest wasn't over yet, and that you're to do whatever the first relative you meet tells you to do."
"What relative?"
"He wouldn't say, milord."
"Is that all?"
Terence hesitated, but decided suddenly that he should tell no one, not even Gawain, about the figures in the water. "Yes, milord."
Again, Gawain was silent for a long time. Finally he said, "You did right waiting until now to tell me, Terence. Now, let's go to sleep. Tomorrow begins to sound promising." In a few seconds, Gawain whispered faintly, "I knew you were of faery stock. They'd never speak to you like that if you were not." He chuckled faintly. "Good night, little one."
***
The next morning the three knights sparred with swords in the meadow, and the two squires busied themselves around the camp. Terence had just stepped toward the forest to gather a few more armloads of firewood when he saw the serpent.
It was a thick serpent with an evil-looking triangular head. A faint trail of smoke rose from its flaring nostrils, and a ridge of tiny spikes showed along its back. Terence knew that he was looking at a dragon. It wound sinuously around a slim beech at the edge of the forest, arching its back luxuriously. Terence froze, then slowly backed away. When he neared the camp, he whispered hoarsely, "Plogrun!"
Something in his voice must have alerted Plogrun, and in a second he was at Terence's side. "Glory and saints help us," he whispered. "That's the real thing, it is."
The beast coiled and writhed from its tail to its head, then hissed loudly and furiously. Both squires jumped. As one, they turned and ran toward the knights. Terence arrived first, gasping, "Milord! Milord!"
"What is it, lad?"
Terence pointed at the serpent, still winding up and down the beech tree. The knights stared at it in silence, then, holding their swords ready, paced toward it. Terence gulped and followed. Plogrun fell in beside him, panting and muttering, "To save a lady, maybe, but why fight a thing like that if you don't have to, that's what I don't know. Live and let live, I say."
They drew near the beast and stopped, each knight measuring it with his eyes. "It's a foul-looking monster indeed," Sir Marhault said.
"Ah," hissed the serpent, "but the foulest of all are sometimes the best, Sir Marhault."
They all jumped, and the creature laughed.
"Have you ever heard of a talking dragon?" Tor asked.
"Nay, Sir Tor. Never," Sir Marhault replied. Gawain only frowned.
"Sure you have never known love until you have loved something foul," the serpent continued. "Which of you fine knights shall have me to wed?" The serpent slithered ecstatically around the slim beech, making low hissing noises and sending out fine steamy mists from its nostrils and parted lips.
"You always were a twisted wench, Morgan," Gawain said suddenly. He grinned and added, "But if you've taken to wooing men
in that shape, your age must be telling on you. Bags under the eyes, is it?"
The beast's eyes flashed at him, and in an annoyed voice that showed no trace of serpentine hissing snapped, "I'm only a year older than you, nephew, and you know it."
"But women show their age so much earlier, don't you think?" Gawain responded sweetly.
The serpent hissed, but after a second it laughed and in the same voice responded, "I'm still enough of a beauty to make pompous knights babble of their victories to impress me." Slowly the serpent began to change: its long tail separated and became two very shapely legs, then an equally shapely woman's body began to appear. Finally, just before her body revealed itself completely, the coils of snakeskin around her neck fell with silky softness over her, and a beautiful fair-haired woman stood before them. Only the faint sheen of her dress reminded them of the serpent that had been there a moment before.
Terence swallowed hard. The woman before him had hair of a different color and in some inexplainable way looked younger, but otherwise was almost identical to the woman he had seen in the pond.
Gawain continued pleasantly, "Trollop. Tor, Sir Marhault, this is my old auntie, Morgan Le Fay."
"Wretch," Morgan hissed.
"We have met," Sir Marhault said stiffly. The woman laughed, and Gawain looked at Sir Marhault with understanding dawning in his face.
"Of course, I should have guessed. Who but my dear auntie would have put you through so much pain? You really are a witch, you know, Morgan."
"I prefer sorceress, little nephew," she smiled. "And which of you two knights had the honor of breaking my spell and humbling this coxcomb?"
"I did, vixen," Gawain said.
"You? Tsk tsk, will wonders never cease? And just yesterday you were a grubby little brat." She smiled and added, "But we women mature so much sooner, don't you think?"
Gawain's eyes twinkled, and he bowed. "Will you lunch with us today, Auntie?"
"No, no, Marhault would never permit it. Actually, nevvy, I'm here to help you. I have a bit of advice." Terence stiffened, and Gawain shot him a quick glance.
"Indeed?" Gawain asked pleasantly. "But I should have guessed. You've always been so thoughtful. Less of it, dear! What are you really up to?"
"It is true that I've never shown much interest in you, Gawain—and who shall blame me? Your knightly ideals nauseate me. But you're not the worst of my relations, after all. So, I've put myself out for you today. You are to travel due east. Immediately. That's all." A second later, she had disappeared. The knights looked at each other for a long moment. Then Sir Marhault spoke, "Your aunt, you say."
"My mother's youngest sister." Gawain turned back toward camp. "Well, here's where we part."
"You don't mean that you're going to do what she said?" Sir Marhault demanded, loathing in his voice.
"What would you have me do? If I didn't, I'd spend the rest of my life wondering what would have happened."
Tor smiled. "Must you go it alone, Gawain? I'm rather at loose ends at the moment. Mind if I join you?"
"And I?" Sir Marhault said promptly. "Whatever devilment your aunt is up to, you may be glad of the extra sword."
Gawain nodded. "Come along, if you like."
And so, within the hour they were off. Again they followed the narrow forest track that had led them to the meadow. Gawain and Terence led the way, slowly pulling ahead of the others.
"It looks as though your messenger was serious, Terence," Gawain said quietly.
"Yes, milord," Terence replied.
"But it doesn't tell us whether he meant us good or evil. Morgan is just as likely to have dealings with the Unseelie Court as the Seelie. You can never tell with her. I've seen her turn a man to dust for rudeness, but I've also seen her gathering wildflowers with a child."
And then the dark path brightened, and the little cavalcade burst out of the forest into a bright, sunlit clearing. In the center of the clearing was an ancient stone well with wild carving all over it. Behind the well, three white mares were saddled, and on a bench nearby sat three ladies in flowing silken robes. One was an ancient lady with a fine network of wrinkles on her neck and face, but with a bright, piercing gleam in her eyes. The second was a lady of about thirty-five or forty, with a look of experience but with a quiet beauty that had been untouched by time. The last lady was no more than nineteen years old and was strikingly beautiful.
7. Alisoun the Bloodthirsty
Terence rode behind Gawain and the young beauty, listening to her inexhaustible flow of inconsequential conversation. The three had been riding for over two hours, and not once in that time had the lady—Lady Alisoun, her name was—stopped talking. She chattered about the other knights she had ridden with, their weapons, their admiration of her beauty, and especially about their fights. Terence, who had developed a deep dislike for Lady Alisoun, heartily wished that things had happened differently at the well.
When the three knights had ridden up to the well, the three ladies had smiled and welcomed them graciously. The lady of about thirty-five years swept a low, elegant curtsey and said, "We welcome three questing knights. Come and water your horses."
Sir Marhault bowed. "We greet you, fair ladies, and thank you." The ladies waited in silence while the travelers dipped water from the well. Then Sir Marhault turned back to the lady who had spoken and said, "If we may ask, how came you to know that we are on quest?"
The lady smiled and answered, "No knight ever finds this well save he is on quest. When you are refreshed, each of you will choose one of us to ride with you, and we shall take you to find adventures. At an arranged time, we shall return here to tell our tales. We are the Three Questing Ladies."
Sir Marhault looked startled. "This is what you wish, my lady?" he asked. She nodded and smiled again. He looked at Gawain and Tor. "What say you, friends?"
"I say the same thing I said when Morgan sent me this way: we have to try it, or we'll wonder the rest of our lives what would have happened," Gawain said.
Tor and Sir Marhault nodded. Terence glanced at Plogrun and was surprised to see the dwarf's face rigid with impotent fury. The dwarf's eyes were fixed on the eldest of the ladies.
"Shall we say, then, that we return in three months' time?" asked the lady who seemed to speak for them all. The knights looked at each other and nodded. "Very well," she continued. "Now you shall choose. Who is first?"
For a moment, none of the knights spoke. Then Sir Marhault said, "Sir Tor, you choose."
"Very well," Tor said. He looked thoughtfully at the three then said, "I am the youngest and least experienced of us, and so I choose the most experienced of you." He looked at the ancient lady. "Should you like to accompany me, madam?"
A glow of triumph in her eyes, the old lady rose and laughed. "I knew it! I willed you to choose me!"
"Glory and saints preserve us!" Plogrun interjected with loathing. "Of all the women in the world, you choose this one!"
"What—?" Tor began, but the woman cut him off.
"And it's a good thing he did, too," she retorted. "I'll have my hands full trying to unlearn him whatever foolishness you've been drilling into his head."
Plogrun turned a deep red and said, "Sir, if you please, perhaps you'd like to choose someone else."
A muscle quivered at the edge of Tor's mouth, and he said, "Are you acquainted with the lady already?"
"Lady Lyne here—if you can call her a lady, and if you think it's ladylike to spend more time with swords and lances than with sewing and music, then I don't know where your wits have gone—as I say, this lady and I met some years ago."
Tor raised his eyebrows and started to speak, but again the lady spoke before he could say anything. "Not so long ago that I don't remember how your precious Sir Linas ended up on his back in the dirt. I'll swear you taught him all you knew, too."
"Humph! As if anyone could teach that dolt. If I had taught him, he would have had your Sir Monocus down in a trice!"
"Plogrun," Tor sai
d firmly, "I will have no squire serve me who is uncivil to a lady."
Plogrun clamped his mouth shut, still seething. The lady looked triumphantly at the dwarf, then said to Tor, "Quite right, Sir Tor. I see no need for a squire at all, in fact."
"Even," Tor continued, still looking at Plogrun, "when the lady is herself uncivil." Lady Lyne reddened, and Plogrun's eyes gleamed. Tor turned back to the lady. "Which direction, madam?" he asked politely.
Without speaking, the lady pointed south and lightly mounted her horse. Tor gave Gawain one expressive look, rolled his eyes, and they were off.
As soon as they had disappeared into the forest, the lady who did the speaking said, "Who shall be next?"
"Choose, Marhault," Gawain said.
"I thank you, Gawain," Sir Marhault said. He looked at the lady of middle years and smiled courteously at her. "If it should be agreeable to you, I feel I would delight in your company, my lady," he said.
"It is agreeable," she said, returning his smile. Gracefully, she stood and walked to her horse. Sir Marhault helped her into her saddle. She pointed north, and in a moment they were gone.
"And so, it seems, the most beautiful of all is left for me," Gawain said, giving the youngest lady the smile that he had used so effectively among the ladies of Camelot. "I could not have asked for better fortune." Gawain bowed gallantly.
She dimpled at him, pleased, and said, "My name is Alisoun, and I'm very glad that you chose me, because you were the one that sounded the most gallant of all of them when you said that you couldn't pass by an adventure. That's what a knight really ought to be like, don't you think? Never passing up any chance to fight to the death and kill recreant knights and dragons and giants and die a glorious death in the end. It's a hard and brutal life, don't you think? I do, but how anyone could want any other sort of life than that I simply cannot imagine, can you? Well, I can tell you, I've met so many cowardly knights, running away from fights for simply the smarmiest reasons that you wouldn't credit it, not if I told you. Oh no, don't bother helping me into the saddle. I'm not so puny as all that. In fact, one knight that I rode with even let me keep his spare sword. He said I was to fall on it if ever he was killed, but of course I didn't listen to him, because simply all of my knights get killed. It's a very lowering thought, I can tell you. But I kept the sword all the same, not to fall on, of course, but to use if I ever got stuck in a fight. Do you think it's unladylike to know how to fight with a sword? I don't, and I feel sure that Lady Lyne doesn't, though she never says anything about it in front of me. You know, I sometimes have the idea that she talks a great deal more when she's with other people than she does when she's with me."
The Squire's Tale Page 7
