The Squire's Tale

by Gerald Morris

  "Look, Pelleas, are you sure you're not making a mistake? I don't mean to say that your love isn't deep and profound and all that, but shouldn't you know something more about a woman than her looks?" Gawain paused, frowning, then continued, "I rode into this country yesterday alongside a very beautiful lady who had no more heart than a spider. I've only just managed to get rid of her."

  Sir Pelleas leaped to his feet. "What are you implying?" he demanded.

  Gawain did not move. Calmly he replied, "Nothing at all. I only wondered if you ought to speak to the Lady Ettard. Have you ever just ridden up and asked to come in?" Gawain asked.

  "Oh yes!" Sir Pelleas said. "But to no avail! The foulest of wandering knights may be sure of a welcome from her, but I am turned away ... but I ... but I ... but I have an idea!"

  Gawain looked amused. "What kind of idea?"

  "I shall go to her in disguise! I shall go with you! In your retinue! She will admit you to her court, and then I shall expose to her my love from within!"

  Gawain nodded. "Not bad. You go put on something that looks like a squire might wear it, and we'll go see this lady of yours." Sir Pelleas started to run from the room, but Gawain stopped him. "Say, does Lady Ettard speak French?"

  "But of course!"

  "Then leave the sonnets here, all right?"

  The plan worked perfectly. At the gate to Lady Ettard's castle, Gawain simply called out his name, and the guards opened the gate immediately. No one even looked at Sir Pelleas. A series of calls echoed from guardpost to guardpost—"Open for Sir Dwayne." Gawain chuckled.

  A window in the central keep of the castle flew open and there appeared the face of a lovely woman. "Sir Dwayne!" she called out. "I am the Lady Ettard, mistress of this castle. I welcome you!"

  Gawain had no chance to answer. Sir Pelleas threw himself from his saddle, and knelt. "My princess!" he called out. "My love, my lambkin! I swear to you eternal fealty. My own life I offer you! My corpse I give to you for a rug, if you so desire! I worship you!"

  "Ghastly display," Gawain muttered.

  "Pelleas! How did you—? You blister! Get out of my castle! I forbid you to drool on my courtyard, you mutt, you cur, you mongrel! How dare you defile my home with your foul presence? Sir Dwayne, is this your doing?"

  Gawain started to reply, but Sir Pelleas broke in again. "My angel, your voice drips sweetness upon my thirsting ears. Speak yet again that I might carry your musical essence with me until I die!"

  "I'll drip sweetness on you, you carbuncle!" She called a command to someone inside, then looked back out. "And I hope that you might learn a lesson from it, you less-than-the-stable-sweepings bit of offal! You stench! You merde!"

  "Ah, she does speak French," Gawain murmured.

  "My heart! Even curses from your lips fall like blessings on my parched soul. You are the water that revives me!" Sir Pelleas called out.

  "Here! Revive on this!" Lady Ettard shouted. She reached inside for something, then at arm's length poured the contents of a large bucket over Sir Pelleas. The mixture seemed to be mostly dirty water, but there were thick clumps of every conceivable color and texture swirled in. The stream hit Sir Pelleas full in his upturned face and knocked him sprawling into a thick, slimy puddle.

  "Kitchen swill!" Terence gasped, wrinkling his nose.

  "Not especially fresh either," Gawain agreed. "Let's move upwind, shall we?"

  Gawain and Terence edged their horses to where the smell was not so strong. Sir Pelleas climbed to his feet, pulling something from his hair, and called, "I accept this and all other blessings which have known the delight of your presence, fair one!"

  Lady Ettard's eyes flashed, and she disappeared inside. Sir Pelleas continued calling out compliments to the window.

  "Milord?" Terence asked.

  "Yes?"

  "This Sir Pelleas, milord? He's ... he's not very clever, is he?"

  Gawain grinned, but did not answer. Lady Ettard reappeared at the window, a triumphant smile on her face. In her arms was a basket filled with eggs. She began throwing them at Pelleas, and Terence noted with respect that she was quite accurate.

  "It's a real pleasure to see a lady of gentle birth with such a fine throwing arm," Gawain said solemnly. "Good wrist action, too."

  Servants and guards who were downwind from Pelleas began to scurry for cover, and even upwind where Gawain and Terence sat a noxious, sour smell began to grow. Pelleas sniffed bemusedly at himself as Lady Ettard threw her last eggs.

  "Now, guards!" Lady Ettard called. "Take him and beat him with boards!"

  "Here we go, Terence," Gawain muttered, drawing his sword and winding his reins around a bolt in his saddle. "You get his horse."

  Terence galloped to Sir Pelleas's horse. It shied away, but leaning from his saddle he caught the horse's bridle and turned toward the gate. Gawain had Sir Pelleas by the collar, dragging him beside Guingalet at arm's length, and keeping four guards at bay with the other hand. Terence booted his own horse into the middle of the guards, knocking them flying. Another guard ran up, thrusting a spear, and Terence dodged, feeling it pass an inch from his face. He kicked the spearman in the face, and rode past. Gawain barked a syllable to Guingalet, and the mighty horse jumped into a dead run toward the gate, where a line of guards was forming. Guingalet hit the first one with his shoulder, and the line disappeared as guards scattered. Terence followed in Guingalet's wide wake. In a few seconds they were clear of the gate and galloping down the hill into the forest, Sir Pelleas still hanging from Gawain's left hand.

  Soon after entering the forest, they came upon a small stream, and Gawain unceremoniously tossed Sir Pelleas into the middle of it. Sir Pelleas gasped and spluttered, then sat up and moaned, "Oh, what am I to do?"

  "Clean off," Gawain commanded, looking distastefully at the hand that had touched Sir Pelleas's clothes. "Then we'll eat some lunch and plan our next move."

  "How can I eat? Food has no attraction for me!"

  "Until you clean up, food will have no attraction for any of us," Gawain snapped. "Now wash!"

  Sir Pelleas cleaned himself and his clothes as much as he could while Terence hurriedly put together a meal. When they had eaten, Gawain sat next to Sir Pelleas and said, "Is that how you act every time you're around her?"

  "Yes, of course. How could I act differently? Love overpowers every faculty, and I yield myself to its urgings."

  "I see. What you need, Pelleas, is an emissary, someone who can represent your case without emptying the butter tub over her."

  "Emptying the—"

  "Covering her with foolish compliments. Now you wait here, and Terence and I will go see what we can do for you. All right?"

  "Do you want to take her a sonnet? I have one that I've been sav—"

  "No."

  So Gawain and Terence rode back up the hill toward Lady Ettard's castle, leaving the damp and still stained Sir Pelleas in the forest. As they rode, Gawain looked Terence over approvingly and said, "You did well in that bit of rough-and-tumble in the courtyard. Very well."

  Terence blushed. "Thank you, milord."

  To their surprise, the gate was raised as soon as they approached. Gawain lifted his eyebrows, but led the way back into the courtyard. There, they were met by a thin, dapper gentleman in velvet who bowed slightly to them and asked if he could be of service. Gawain asked to see Lady Ettard, and the dapper gentleman said, "Follow me, please."

  They dismounted and followed him through a long hallway to a small inner court. He said, "You may wait here, and my lady will see you if she finds time."

  "Why don't you go in and tell her that it's not convenient for us to wait?" Gawain smiled.

  The dapper gentleman looked affronted. In a cold voice, he said, "My lady is engaged in some urgent business."

  "Why, so are we," Gawain said. "You run along and tell her, and we'll go with you." He pushed the gentleman through the door and down the hall. A moment later, almost carrying the servant aloft ahead of him, Gawain ente
red a chamber where Lady Ettard sat at a table with two ladies-in-waiting.

  She really was very pretty, Terence thought. It was hard for Terence to associate the delicate figure seated in the stateroom with the screaming woman who had emptied the swill on Sir Pelleas. She leaned forward, peered at Gawain, frowned, and said earnestly, "What are you doing with Brundle, Sir Dwayne?"

  Gawain let go of the gentleman, who scurried from the room. "Nothing inappropriate, I assure you," Gawain said politely.

  Lady Ettard frowned, as if trying to solve a puzzle, but in a moment her brow lightened, and she said, "Well, never mind. What can I do for you, Sir Dwayne?"

  "I come as an ambassador. From Sir Pelleas—"

  "That weakling!" Lady Ettard interjected scornfully.

  "It seems to me," Gawain said mildly, "that you are in the position to know that he is hardly a weakling. I myself saw him unhorse ten of your knights in a row."

  "And then what did he do? He surrendered to them and let them abuse him! I say he is a weakling."

  "Do you not think, madam, that it takes strength of decision to accept abuse without responding in kind?"

  "No, I think it takes a great deal of foolishness. I prefer a man who takes what he wants."

  "You would prefer to be tyrannized than cherished? Bullied than beloved?" Gawain asked. Terence glanced at him and saw a suspicious light in his eyes.

  "'Tyrannized than cherished,'" she repeated, frowning intently. "That's very good. And 'bullied than—' what was that again?" She looked like a schoolgirl committing a difficult sum to memory. "Anyway, I have no admiration for a man who would allow himself to be beaten. Pelleas would be very uncomfortable by now if you had not acted so swiftly."

  Gawain hesitated, then said, "I did what any true knight would have done, madam."

  "So I saw," Lady Ettard said demurely. Terence caught his breath and looked askance at Gawain, hoping to warn him, but Gawain was smiling that devilishly effective smile of his. Terence closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. "You seem also to dislike being kept waiting, Dwayne," Lady Ettard added, looking shyly at the door through which the discomposed Brundle had scuttled.

  "I admit, my lady, that I was perhaps a bit over-eager to ... to see you," Gawain said. "I do hope I haven't inconvenienced your servant."

  "Oh no," Lady Ettard said vacuously. "Brundle won't mind. He ... he is not used to dealing with such men as you."

  Gawain smiled even more broadly. "Perhaps," he said after a moment, "I should send my squire away, so that we could talk privately."

  "If you like," Lady Ettard smiled faintly.

  "He shall run some errands for me," Gawain said. "You'd like that, wouldn't you, Terence?" Terence sighed sadly, but he nodded. Gawain pulled Terence to one side and whispered quickly, "Go get Pelleas. Bring him here at once. Tell him Lady Ettard has changed her mind. Got that?" Terence blinked dazedly, but he nodded. "Good," Gawain said with a chuckle. "It looks as though we'll wind this business up, after all."

  Terence found Sir Pelleas gazing abstractedly at the stream by their camp. Mindful of his instructions, Terence said, "Lady Ettard has changed her mind, and you're to go to her at once." Pelleas leaped to his feet, his face shining with delight, and chattered, "Did she say she loved me after all? Will she marry me? What did Sir Gawain say? Did he tell her how much I loved her?"

  Fortunately for Terence, who could not think of answers to any of these questions, Sir Pelleas did not wait for a reply. Sir Pelleas leaped onto his horse, his wet pants smacking loudly on the saddle, and together they galloped back up the hill to the castle.

  "Where is she?" Sir Pelleas demanded.

  "This way, sir." Terence led him down the long hallway, through the entrance court into the stateroom. It was empty except for a lone housemaid cleaning the fireplace. "But—where's Lady Ettard? Excuse me, miss. Where's your mistress?"

  "Ow, I don't think I should say," the girl tittered. "Her not being, as you say, receiving visitors."

  "Look here, girl," Sir Pelleas demanded. "Lady Ettard is expecting me right now!"

  She gaped at him in amazement. "You don't say! I never heard of such goings on! I never!"

  "Where is she?" Sir Pelleas asked again.

  "She's in the garden—right through that door." The girl pointed, her eyes still wide.

  Sir Pelleas flung open the door. There, on a stone bench in a fragrant garden, sat Lady Ettard and Gawain. As Sir Pelleas opened the door, Gawain leaned forward and gave Lady Ettard a long kiss on the lips. Terence closed his eyes in anguish.

  "What is the meaning of this?" Sir Pelleas roared. Gawain stood quickly, and stared at Sir Pelleas, wide-eyed. Sir Pelleas wore no sword, but one lay on a table near the door, easily to hand, and he grasped it and strode toward the bench. Gawain made no move to defend himself, but instead knelt at Sir Pelleas's feet, abject terror on his face.

  "Sir Pelleas! How—oh, please don't kill me!" he cried. Terence stared.

  "Traitor! You should be flogged like a lackey!" Sir Pelleas shouted furiously.

  "Oh no, please no! I'll do anything! I'll be your squire, your groom, your stable sweep! Only let not your mighty wrath fall on me!" Gawain bowed his head, a picture of fear, but before he lowered his eyes he gave Terence a sharp warning glance.

  "Thou coward! I should kill thee now," Sir Pelleas declared grandly, "but I do not wish to sully this blade with thy craven blood!"

  "Dwayne!" Lady Ettard said faintly. She was looking from one knight to the other in consternation.

  "He is too strong for me, my lady!" Gawain whimpered.

  "Pelleas!" she said, her eyes shining. "You ... you are ... oh, Pelleas!" She clasped her hands together rapturously. "Pelleas, throw this craven dog out of my castle—and then, and then come back, if you like."

  Terence saw Gawain's shoulders shaking with a barely suppressed mirth. He began to grin himself as he finally understood Gawain's plan and saw how it had worked. Sir Pelleas, driven to jealous fury, was at last the sort of man whom Lady Ettard desired.

  "Come back to you?" Sir Pelleas snapped contemptuously to Lady Ettard. "I should rather come back to a pit of garbage!" Gawain's head snapped up, and he stared incredulously as Sir Pelleas continued. "You have been false to me once; I shall never allow it to happen again!"

  "Pelleas! I was blind! I did not see your strength, your might, your ... your beauty."

  "I am proof to your trickery, the wiles of a faithless woman!" Sir Pelleas laughed. "You would throw yourself at some other wandering knight—or squire or lackey—in a day! Trollop! Doxy!"

  Lady Ettard burst into hysterical sobs, wailing, "Oh Pelleas, my love, my love," between gasps. Gawain stood up, exasperated.

  "Pelleas," he whispered urgently, "don't be a—"

  "On your knees, villain!" Sir Pelleas commanded, raising his sword threateningly.

  "You witless ninny! Will you listen to me?" Gawain whispered fiercely.

  "I told thee to kneel!" Sir Pelleas roared.

  "Will you be quiet for one minute? Look! She's yours, I tell you!"

  "I want none of her, after thy foul lips have touched her," he shouted, even louder. Lady Ettard burst into fresh gusts of tears. Sir Pelleas raised his head proudly, "I shall retire to some holy place and breathe my last, surrendering this vain world forever! Now, for the last time, kneel, thou cur!"

  "Oh shut it!" Gawain said crossly. Sir Pelleas made as though to raise his sword, but Gawain plucked it from his hand and tossed it across the garden. "Go and breathe your last or whatever it is you want to do. I wash my hands of you!"

  "I shall die without you, Pelleas!" Lady Ettard sobbed.

  "You too," Gawain said. "Come on, Terence. Help me with this gear."

  Thirty minutes later, fully armored again, Gawain led Terence back out of Lady Ettard's castle and headed east, the sun lowering behind them.

  "A more empty-headed woman I have never met," Gawain grunted after a moment. "If I had had to explain another joke—" He grimaced
and looked at Terence. "You were lucky to get out when you did."

  "Oh, lucky was I?" Terence demanded. "You forget I was with Sir Pelleas!"

  Gawain laughed. "You're right, lad. You had your burden as well."

  "Do you think they really will die, milord?" Terence asked.

  "What, die for love?" Gawain considered this, then said, "If I've ever met two people stupid enough to do it, they would be the ones."

  They rode side by side into their shadows while the long day ended.

  9. Nimue

  Gawain and Terence did not stop until after dark. A full moon lit their way alongside farms and fields, back into the forest. Gawain rode with a still, thoughtful quietness. After about an hour, he muttered, half to himself, "A stupid and cruel woman. Who would have thought that such spite could lie behind such beauty?"

  Terence was not sure if Gawain expected an answer, but after a moment Terence said, "I ... I don't care for beautiful women, myself."

  "What?" Gawain asked, half laughing, half shocked.

  "I just mean the ones that I've met. I'm thinking of that woman who hated Abelleus and Lady Alisoun and Lady Ettard and your Aunt Morgan and ... and women like that." Terence had been thinking mostly of the woman whose beautiful, cold face he had seen in the pond and whose fierce eyes still haunted his dreams, but he said nothing of her. "But ... but I haven't known as many women as you, milord," he added.

  Gawain rode in silence for a moment, his eyes on Terence's shadowed face. At last he said, "Morgan's not so bad. But I see what you mean." A moment later, he laughed softly and said, "You may have had some advantages growing up with a hermit." A few hours later, Gawain stopped by a lake, and without bothering to eat they rolled up in their blankets and let the soft lake sounds murmur them to sleep.

  There had been no lakes in the Gentle Wood, where Terence had lived with the hermit, so the next morning he was surprised and enraptured by the misty, dreamy feel of a lake in the early morning. The air smelled cleaner, and Terence took long slow breaths, letting the cool stillness fill his breast. A vague shape, like a person, appeared in the fog. Terence stood and watched the shape approach. His hair tingled, but he was not afraid. The shape seemed to bow, then point across the lake. Then it dissolved in the mist. A moment later, other shapes appeared, some like people, some like animals, and Terence smiled to them and nodded a greeting. When at last he looked away, Gawain was sitting up in his blankets, watching.