The Savage Damsel and the Dwarf

by Gerald Morris

  Sir Kai left them, having mounted his horse stiffly, and they rode on. Lynet wondered furiously about what she had witnessed. It was impossible that this untrained and unkempt servant should actually be a better warrior than a knight like Sir Kai. Either he had been very lucky or else Sir Kai had allowed himself to be defeated. Of the two choices, luck seemed the most likely explanation, but Lynet could not help feeling that Sir Kai had behaved very mysteriously.

  Three hours later they rode out of a stand of trees into a small clearing, empty but for a brightly glowing campfire. "Here indeed is a strange adventure, my lady," said the knave. "A fire burns, yet is there no hand about to have made it. I suggest we dismount and encounter this adventure together. Fear not, for thou art safe with me."

  Lynet sighed. The boy must have spent all his time at court listening to minstrels tell courtly tales. "There is no adventure, addlepate. We've ridden into someone's camp, and he's probably watching us from the woods right now, wondering whether you're a madman or just a harmless idiot."

  As if to confirm Lynet's assessment, a voice spoke from the bushes at the far end of the clearing, a very welcome voice. "Good Gog, my lady! Is that what Arthur gave you by way of a champion:' It's the dim leading the dim!" Roger the dwarf stepped into the clearing.

  Lynet smiled with relief, feeling again the stir of amusement that Roger's blunt statements often evoked in her. The knave, however, dismounted quickly and faced Roger. "Speak thou ill of me, as you like, dwarf! I owe thee that. But thou shalt speak no disparagement of a lady in my presence. Retract thy words!"

  Lynet dismounted and stepped between the two. Raising her chin and glaring into the kitchen knave's eyes, she said, "Listen to my words, domnoddy. I'll speak slowly. I don't need you to protect me, especially from my friends. I didn't ask you to come. I want you to go away. Has any of that sunk into your brain?"

  "Don't waste your time, my lady," recommended Roger. "Nothing short of an arrow could enter that brain."

  "Do you know this buffoon, Roger?"

  "Oh, ay. I'd recognize his knightlier-than-thou manner of talking anywhere. I'm the one who took him to Camelot. I found him lost in the woods, about to starve. He's not what you'd call a woodsman. Did he tell you his name, by the way?"

  "No. Sir Kai called him Beausomething, but I think Sir Kai calls people whatever he feels like: he called me Savage Damsel."

  Roger grunted. "Well, he got that right, anyway."

  "Beaumains is not my name," interrupted the kitchen knave, removing his helm and setting his various odors free, "but I shall bear that name until I have fulfilled my quest!"

  Lynet and Roger looked at each other, then back at the knave. "Right then, Beaumains it is. Maybe it's French for silly ass," Roger said. "Which one of you chose your direction?"

  "The silly ass did," Lynet replied. "He said this way was southwest. Don't tell me—"

  "You're almost due east of Camelot right now," said Roger. He sighed. "I suppose I'd better ride along, if you're ever going to get home. Why don't we stay here tonight and start in the morning?"

  Relieved, Lynet nodded. "Is there a stream nearby where Beaumouse or whatever his name is could wash?"

  "He does nif a bit, doesn't he?" agreed the dwarf. "Behind those trees, Beau."

  While Beaumains was washing, Lynet briefly told Roger what had happened since they parted, omitting only Terence's part and Lady Eileen's reference to the Seelie Court. Roger listened attentively, and when she was done said, "Do you mean to tell me that ... that Beau has been acting as a kitchen boy?" He shook his head slowly. "And nobody at court ever questioned it?"

  "Why should they?" asked Lynet.

  Roger glanced over his shoulder at the woods where Beaumains had disappeared. "Why, indeed?" he said softly. "He certainly looks the part with that greasy hair over his face. But Kai ... perhaps he has some doubts. What did Kai say to you about Beau?"

  Lynet was confused, but she said, "Only that he might turn out to be a skilled fighter, but I think that was just a cruel joke." Roger's frown cleared, and he nodded to himself. "What is it, Roger?"

  "Just that I understand what Kai's doing now," Roger said. Before Lynet could ask, though, Roger turned on her. "But I still don't know what you were thinking when you refused to tell your name at the gate and at court. What sort of crack-brained notion—?"

  "Haven't you figured that out?" Lynet said, stung by his sharp tone. "You know who my father was."

  "Ay, Duke Idres of Cornwall. What's that to do with—?"

  "You may not know it, but my father once rebelled against Arthur!" Lynet said bluntly.

  Roger's mouth dropped open, and he stared at her in consternation. "Is that all?" he gasped. "You mean you thought that Arthur might hold a grudge against you on your father's account?" Lynet nodded, and Roger rolled his eyes heavenward. "You goose! Arthur doesn't care a rap about all that!"

  "He doesn't?"

  "Listen, girl, have you ever heard who led the rebellion your father was part of?"

  "Of course I have. It was King Lot of Orkney," Lynet replied.

  "Ay. And you know who King Lot's oldest son is? It's Sir Gawain, Arthur's most loyal knight."

  Lynet's eyes widened, as she realized that all her secrecy had been pointless, and that she could have told her name after all and been given a real knight as a champion. Because of her refusal to tell her name, she had ended up with a serving boy instead. "Oh," she said.

  Roger must have read her thoughts. "Don't worry, lass. Maybe the Beau will work out better than you think. And speaking of him, I suppose I ought to go check on him—see that he can find his way back to camp."

  Lynet smiled wanly, and Roger made his way through the trees where he had told Beaumains he would find the stream. He was gone a long time, but when he reappeared, he brought with him a remarkably different figure. Beaumains's long, greasy hair had been neatly cut over his forehead, and the straggly blond beard had been shaved off. To her amazement, Lynet saw that beneath all that hair, Beaumains was a very handsome young man indeed. His chin was strong, his lips firm, and his eyes a shining blue. Lynet realized that her mouth had dropped open, and she shut it quickly. "You look a bit better, I suppose. Let's hope you smell better, too," she said abruptly.

  The next morning Roger took charge and led them southeast. Beaumains argued briefly about their course, but his dispute was clearly only for form's sake. He had no idea himself which way to go, but he resented being led by the dwarf.

  An hour later, as they rode along a quiet forest brook, they met their first adventure. A youth, running wildly and gasping for breath, burst out of the brush before their horses. He wore the simple but neatly cut livery of a knight's personal servant, probably a page. "Sir Knight!" he wheezed to Beaumains. "Thank heaven!"

  Lynet started to correct the youth's misapprehension, but Beaumains answered quickly, "What is it, young sir?"

  "My master, a goodly knight, is in need of help. He is attacked by six thieves, and they'll kill him if no one helps!" The page pointed behind him. "Right through those trees, in an open clearing!"

  "I shall aid your master at once!" Beaumains declared. He drew his sword and raised it high over his head.

  "Hold up there, Beau," Roger said. "Think a moment. Even if this lad's not setting a trap, you don't need to be charging full front on six enemies."

  "Fie on such cowardly caution!" shouted Beaumains. He spurred his white horse forward and charged through the brush. With a muffled oath, Roger rolled his eyes and urged his horse after the vanishing figure.

  Lynet followed. When she arrived at the clearing that the page had described, the battle had already begun. At the far end of the meadow, a wounded knight leaned against a tree, holding his sword weakly before him, while Beaumains slashed and shouted at several leaping figures. Two were already sprawled on the grass, and as Lynet watched a third fell before Beaumains's sword. He wheeled his horse to face the last two.

  Roger, who sat on his horse a few f
eet away from Lynet, said suddenly, "Six! The boy said there were six!" Lynet blinked, and then understood. One was missing. "Oh, blast!" Roger said suddenly. "I hate doing this!" He fumbled behind him on his saddle for his sword, managed to pull it out, then booted his horse into a run, across the meadow toward a small stand of trees. Peering into those trees, Lynet saw what Roger had seen: the sixth man, carefully aiming his longbow at Beaumains's back.

  Beaumains charged the remaining two that were in the open, and Roger rode yelling at the man in the trees. The dwarf's charge distracted the man enough that his arrow missed Beaumains, and then Roger and his horse were in the trees. Lynet saw the hidden archer reel backwards, struck by the horse's shoulder, just as a low branch swept Roger off his horse's back. He tumbled into a heap, and Lynet kicked her mare into a gallop. When she arrived at the dwarf's form, though, he was sitting up, winded but unhurt. She looked quickly around the meadow. The battle was over. Four men lay dead before Beaumains, and the remaining two had evidently made good their escape, disappearing into the forest.

  Lynet dismounted, then stalked furiously across the field toward Beaumains. "You crack-brained lunatic! Didn't you hear what Roger said? You just about got yourself killed, and Roger too for all your pains! Do you have any idea what almost happened to you?"

  "A true knight does not think of death!" Beaumains snapped.

  "Especially after he's dead!"

  The wounded knight who had been leaning against the tree removed his helm and looked at Beaumains and Lynet. "Pardon me," he said, "but I, um, want to thank you, Sir Knight, for—"

  "He's not a knight!" Lynet said. "He's a kitchen boy, dressed up in borrowed armor, playing silly games!"

  "But, my lady," the wounded knight protested. "He did save my life."

  "I'm very glad that you were saved," Lynet said, "but it was an accident. If this fellow Beaumouth hadn't come on your attackers by surprise and made a few lucky swings, he'd have been killed right away. And if that dwarf hadn't charged when he did, he'd be a kitchen knave with an arrow through his back."

  Lynet turned challengly toward Beaumains, but he was silent. Turning on her heel, Lynet strode back to where Roger was gingerly picking himself up. "Have you seen my sword?" asked the dwarf. "I seem to have lost track of it."

  "What, again? You really ought to hold on to it tighter," Lynet replied.

  "Shut up and help me look," muttered the dwarf. They searched in silence until they found the sword in the tall grass. As Roger put it back on his saddle, he said softly. "My lady?"

  "Yes?"

  "The Beau was brave, you know. Charging six at once like that."

  "Brave? Or stupid?"

  Roger shrugged. "I've never been sure where brave stopped and stupid began, myself. Give me a boost here, won't you?"

  Since Beaumains had led Lynet the wrong direction at first, Roger decided to leave the paths and cut through the forest. His shortcut failed, however. Before they had ridden twenty minutes they came to a river, far too broad and swift for them to cross on horseback. They had to follow along the riverbank until they came to a passable ford. After an hour, Roger's mutterings were growing blisteringly obscene. Lynet had learned several new words.

  At last they came to a passable ford, where the river widened somewhat. On the opposite bank were two knights on horseback, both holding lances.

  "Hello, good knights!" called Roger. "Can you tell us if this ford is as shallow as it seems?"

  "It is a fair crossing," replied one of the knights. "There is no other place for ten miles on either side."

  "But you shall not pass," added the other knight.

  "I beg your pardon?" replied Roger.

  The first knight explained. "It is the custom of this ford that no knight shall cross save he fight with one of us first."

  Lynet guided her mare forward. "Well, that's all right, then," she said. "We have no knights here."

  "What do you call that?" demanded the second knight, pointing at the armored Beaumains.

  "I know it looks like a knight, but don't be deceived by appearances. That's just a kitchen boy in borrowed armor. Not worth your bothering with."

  "He holds a lance like a knight," said the first knight.

  "Yes, he looks very grand," Lynet said patiently. "But trust me, he'd be much more comfortable with a soup ladle."

  The two knights looked at each and seemed to hesitate, but at that moment Beaumains spoke. "I need no lady to speak for me! Sir Knights, I accept your challenge!"

  Lynet twisted sharply in her saddle. "Will you shut up?" she hissed. "They were about to let us across."

  "I fear no knight alive, except it be the great Sir Lancelot du Lac, who knows no peer in the knightly courtesies and arts!"

  The two knights across the river again exchanged glances, then laughed coarsely. "Come on, then, kitchen boy!" said one. "Which of us shall you try?"

  "Why both at once, if you be not afeared," Beaumains replied calmly.

  "Are you crazy?" Lynet gasped. "Of course you are. I mean, are you determined to kill yourself? These are not peasant thieves with sticks, like the last batch. These are knights! They'll turn you into mincemeat!"

  "Beaumince," murmured Roger.

  "You're not helping!" Lynet snapped at the dwarf.

  "Very well!" shouted the knights. "Both at once! Come on across!"

  While Lynet fumed helplessly, Beaumains guided his horse into the river. The water was just up to the pommel of his saddle, and he had to walk slowly so as not to lose his balance in the current. When he reached the middle of the river, he stopped. "Now it is your turn. I have come halfway, and if you be not craven and spineless knights, you will come the rest of the way! Meet me here in the river, cowards!"

  At once the two knights spurred their horses into the river. Lynet shook her head and asked, "Do all men act like fools when they're called cowards?"

  Roger nodded absently. "Very clever, my Beau," he said softly.

  "What do you mean?" Lynet asked.

  "Look. In the water, their lances are no good. They can't get enough speed to knock him off the horse, so their spears become awkward. He can fight with his sword. See?"

  Sure enough, Beaumains had cast aside his lance and drawn his sword. "It must be just luck," Lynet said. "He couldn't have thought of that himself."

  "I certainly didn't think of it," replied Roger.

  The battle was short. Beaumains attacked the first figure with his sword, and with his second blow managed to knock him off his horse into the river. The second knight shouted "Brother!" and drew his own sword. He struck and then struck again, but Beaumains parried every blow. At last, Beaumains drove forward and buried his sword's blade in the knight's helm. The knight fell lifeless into the river.

  "The other knight hasn't come up yet," Lynet whispered.

  "Belike it's hard to swim in armor," Roger said. "Come on, my lady."

  When they rose dripping from the water, Beaumains had already removed his helm. His handsome face wore a new expression. His lifted chin indicated a new pride, and his thin-lipped smile spoke of a smug self-satisfaction that irked Lynet to her core.

  "Luck!" she said briskly.

  Beaumains blinked, then said, "Have ye still no gentle words for me, my lady?"

  Something, perhaps pity, stirred in Lynet's heart, and she said grudgingly, "It was a good idea to meet them in the river." All of Beaumains's smugness returned in a flash, and Lynet added, "Because you needed another bath anyway."

  V. The Knight of the Black Woods

  Lynet had difficulty going to sleep that night. Whenever she closed her eyes, she saw Beaumains's startled expression and heard again his plaintive question, "Have ye still no gentle words for me, my lady?" At that moment she believed she had seen the real person beneath his assumed self-confidence, his stilted courtly language, his exaggerated respect for Sir Lancelot. She had made little of his moment of triumph, and her scorn had laid him open as no wound could have. But when she had rel
ented, all his ridiculous bravado had returned, and the real human being had retreated again into his borrowed armor.

  At last Lynet slept, but it seemed only a minute before a stirring in the night woke her. She sat up in her blankets and looked around. All was still. "Roger?" she hissed. "Did you hear something?" There was no answer, and she looked more closely at the dwarf's bed. Roger was gone.

  As before, when she had noticed the dwarf's absence at Camelot, Lynet felt a queer sense of loss. How were they ever to find their way to the Castle Perle without him? Wrapping her cloak around her shoulders, she rose and tiptoed across to Roger's blankets. They were neatly laid back, and a small black opening in the bushes seemed to point the direction he had gone. Without hesitation, Lynet stepped into the forest.

  The sky was clear, and the light of a half moon silvered the spaces between trees. Lynet walked slowly in her bare feet, a strange excitement growing inside her. She saw no sign of Roger, but she did not hesitate. At every turning, she knew which way she was to take. After a few minutes, she came to a tiny clearing in the forest. In the center of the clearing was a circle of deep shadow, standing by itself.

  As she approached, the dark patch began to expand and change shape. In a moment, it had taken the form of a small man, though a hint of tiny horns amid the tousled hair was distinctly nonhuman. "Hallo, Lynet," said a chuckling voice.

  To her surprise, Lynet realized that she was not afraid. "How do you know my name?" she asked calmly.

  "Well, at first I wasn't sure. You see in that blue silk dress I took you for a lowly servant girl—" The voice trailed off in an explosion of uncontrollable giggles. Lynet recognized the voice now. It was the same personage who had helped her through the Red Knight's camp on the first night of her quest, the one that Lady Eileen had said was a faery.