Suddenly Lynet remembered something. "Oh! Back at Sir Persant's camp, when Gareth was wounded and began to call for his mother, you told him—you said she was gone, and he'd better get used to it. I thought that was cruel at the time, but now I understand."
"Ay. Not that it did any good. He'll never see her for what she was."
"And tonight, when you were taunting him—"
"I knew I stood no chance with him in a fair fight, so I tried to make him angry. It almost worked."
Lynet pursed her lips and looked at the grave face before her. She was amazed at Gaheris's strength of mind, the courage to shrug off the knowledge that his own mother had not loved him. It was a sort of courage, she realized, that Gareth would never have. "What happened to your mother?" she asked.
Gaheris frowned. "Gawain says she's dead. He says she tried to kill Arthur but was stopped by a knight from the Other World. I hope he's right."
"What did you do after your mother left?"
"Well, Gawain went to Arthur's court, and a year or two later Agrivaine and I joined him there." Gaheris grinned ruefully. "It was awful."
"Awful? Why?"
"You see, by the time we got there, Gawain was recognized as Arthur's greatest knight. And there I was, his brother, and a clodpole with weapons. Horrible to have to live up to an older brother."
"Or older sister," Lynet pointed out. "I've suffered, too."
"I suppose so. Well, I was young, so I tried to bluff it out."
"Bluff it out?" Lynet repeated.
Gaheris grinned. "Ay. You never heard a knight brag more loudly about what he was going to do but hadn't done yet. I put on the shiniest armor and practiced talking the way I thought knights were supposed to talk—"
"Like Beaumains—I mean Gareth?"
"Well, yes. Like that. But it didn't work for me. After I'd been bashed off my horse in every tournament, by every knight—well, you see my problem. I imagine I looked a priceless ass."
Gaheris shook his head briskly, as if to shake off a bad memory. "Anyway, that's how things were when Gareth arrived at court, the last of the brothers. He was the only one of us who had any of Gawain's skill, but from his first day, Gareth had eyes only for Sir Lancelot."
"I think I know the next part of the story," Lynet said. "Sir Lancelot was defeated in some tournament by an unknown knight with an odd name."
"Sir Wozzell," Gaheris supplied.
"Right. Sir Wozzell. Then Sir Lancelot went away, and your brother followed."
"Something like that. Gareth swore that his name would never be heard again in Camelot until he had restored the honor of Sir Lancelot, and he galloped away in a blaze of glory."
"How was he going to restore Sir Lancelot's honor?"
"Kill Sir Wozzell, maybe. I don't know. Gareth doesn't really think in that much detail. Well, I followed him."
"Because you knew he'd be lost in ten minutes."
"Right. And as I traveled, I met a beautiful woman—an enchantress, you know—riding a white horse. She told me she was lost and fluttered her eyelashes at me and asked if I couldn't guide her to Winchester. I told her I was busy, but I'd be happy to give her directions."
"Oh dear," Lynet said, her eyes twinkling in the candlelight. "I don't suppose she liked that, did she?"
"I suppose not. She said she could never remember all those nasty directions and fluttered her eyelashes at me again. So I asked if there was something wrong with her eye and told her that I'd once had a horse with a diseased eye like hers."
"You didn't," Lynet moaned, but her eyes lit with laughter.
Gaheris grinned. "I did. That may have been a bit over the top, because that was when she got miffed and cast the spell on me. Hey, presto, I was a dwarf."
"She turned you into a dwarf for that? For laughing at her?"
"Ay. No sense of humor. She said a knight should always treat fair womanhood with respect, and I would remain a dwarf until I'd learned to honor a woman truly. You know the rest. I was only to have my true shape for two hours, every night of the half moon. I don't know why—"
"It's a night for good magic," Lynet explained. "Was it awful, finding yourself a dwarf?"
Gaheris thought for a moment, and said, "A bit of a shock at first, but not all that unpleasant, really. You see"—he licked his lips and frowned—"you see, I'd never been worth much as a knight. But as a dwarf, nobody expected me to be knightly or cared that I was clumsy with a sword. I make a better dwarf than a knight, you know."
Again, Lynet gazed at Gaheris, amazed at his strength of will. Who else would have faced such a fate so coolly? Finally, she said quietly, "Go on."
Gaheris smiled. "I still had a job to do. I was looking for my addlepated brother. It took over a month, but I finally found him. He'd gotten lost in the woods, of course. Even misplaced his own camp, so he'd lost his horse and armor, too. He was half starved and almost out of his wits. Never saw a more pathetic case. Well, the long and short of it was that I took him back to Camelot and left him there, never dreaming that he'd be so daftheaded as to hide himself in the kitchens under another name."
"And you?"
"I rode away. Camelot held nothing for me. I simply set off into the darkest woods, just to see what I'd find."
"And what did you find?"
"A Savage Damsel," Gaheris said, smiling again. "You know the rest."
"Not by half," Lynet said firmly. "How come you wouldn't ride along with that witch, but when you met me, you volunteered to take me Camelot at once?"
Gaheris rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I suppose it's because you didn't flop your eyes at me and expect me to roll over. Any other questions?"
"Here's one I've been wanting to ask for weeks," Lynet said. "When you finally got me to Camelot, why did you leave me?"
Gaheris hesitated, then said, "Riding with you was too painful."
"Painful?" Lynet repeated. Her throat was tight.
Gaheris swallowed. "You see, the curse had finally found its mark. I'd found something that I wanted more than anything, but it was something a dwarf could never hope for."
"What?"
Gaheris looked into Lynet's eyes, the lamplight reflecting in twin flames beneath his brows. "You," he said.
"Oh!" Lynet gasped. The night air was suddenly fresh and delicious to breathe.
"Don't say anything, lass," Gaheris said hastily. "I know how things are. I've known ever since Gareth killed the Black Knight. You love him, not me." Lynet started to speak, but Gaheris stilled her with a gesture. "No, you don't have to explain. It was always hopeless for me, and I knew it, even if it tore me apart to think so." Gaheris took a deep breath. "The worst time was the night of the half moon, a month ago. Then I was myself again, and I could do nothing to show you how much I loved you. I slipped out of my blankets and hid in the forest until I'd returned to being just Roger. Those two hours lasted a hundred years.
"Then, the next day, I saw you falling in love with Gareth. I thought I'd go mad."
"Gaheris, I—"
"Ssh! Please! It wasn't that I was jealous—I had no chance with you anyway—but, you see, I knew Gareth. He's never been smart enough or strong enough to love just one woman. I thought maybe he'd changed, when you took care of his wounds at Sir Persant's camp, but then I found him in his tent, dallying with that brainless daughter of Persant's." Gaheris grimaced, with anger and disgust. "In fact, if I hadn't sent you off to check your horse's leg, you'd have walked in on them, too."
"Oh, so that's what—"
"I couldn't take it anymore, watching you in love with him while he was such a—It was more than flesh could bear. So I rode off to take your message to your sister. Just then I didn't much care if I lived or died anyway.
"What else is there to tell? Gareth killed the Red Lands Knight and fell in love with your sister's pretty face, forgetting all you had done for him, forgetting you entirely. Good Gog, I hated him! While he was recovering from his wounds, not a day passed when I didn't think about leavi
ng him to die."
"Why didn't you?" Lynet asked.
Gaheris's mouth was tight. "He's a swine," he said simply. "But he's my brother. You know the rest, up through dinner last night, when he treated you so shamefully. I was so angry that when I took my own form, I thought only of teaching him a lesson."
Gaheris's face was tight and his eyes searched Lynet's. "Don't be too angry with me," he said. "I know you love him, but he's not for you. He's as simple-minded and as selfish and as weak as ... as your sister."
"You're right," Lynet said. "They deserve each other."
"They do indeed," Gaheris said soberly. "But you, Lynet, you deserve something better."
Lynet leaned forward, looking into Gaheris's eyes. "I've found something better," she murmured, and then she kissed him.
XII. The Honor of SiR Lancelot
When she had kissed Gaheris, Lynet straightened up and looked fondly at him while he gaped at her. "Stupid," she said. "It's been days and days since I was in love with your dimwitted brother. His revolting behavior at dinner didn't bother me at all."
"It didn't?" Gaheris whispered.
"Except that when he called Lyonesse his rare golden buttercup it nearly put me off my food."
Gaheris did not move. "You don't love Gareth?"
"No, you idiot. I love you. Shall I kiss you again to prove it?"
Gaheris nodded, and for the next few minutes there was no more talking. When at last their lips were free, they tried putting their love into words. They told each other about the moments when they had first realized they were in love, about the mannerisms and quirks that they found most endearing in each other, and all the usual things that lovers talk about. Lynet reflected privately that if she had overheard the same conversation between two other people she would have considered it appallingly mushy, but it was different when it was just she and her Gaheris.
Eventually, though, Lynet realized that it must be nearing dawn, and they still had a problem to solve. "Gary?" she said. Gaheris had told her to call him by his familiar name. "What are we going to do with you now? If you're found here in the morning, even our witless brother and sister might suspect that you were the midnight attacker."
"Awkward," Gaheris said, nodding. "Shall I hide under your bed?"
"And I could feed you with the leftovers from my meals? What a clever plan!" Lynet retorted.
"Leftovers from your meals? Huh! I'd starve," Gaheris muttered. "I suppose I'd better leave. But not far. I won't lose you again."
"You won't," Lynet said firmly. "Can you go back to that cabin where you stayed with Gareth? You could hide for a day or two, then ride up pretending to be searching for Gareth. We could meet for the first time."
"It's too far, and besides, there's no more food there. Don't you have any neighbors I could stay with?"
Lynet pondered this. "They're all tenants on our land. They'd be sure to tell Uncle Gringamore." Suddenly she smiled. "Except for one. Come on. You can stay with Jean le Forestier."
A few minutes later, they strolled unobserved out the main gate. As soon as they were out of the castle and could talk freely, Gaheris asked, "Who is this Jean?"
"He's a woodcutter. You've met him already once."
"The man who rescued me from Red Lands's guards?"
"That's the one. He saved my life, too."
"Useful chap," Gaheris commented. "Is he really close enough to walk to? Do you know the way?"
Lynet nodded. "I think so."
"You think so," Gaheris said with a sigh. "I have this recurring nightmare where I'm lost in a strange forest, and my only hope is your sense of direction. Enough to give a fellow the sweats, it is."
"Oh, shut up."
"At least I dream about you, lass. Are you sure this is the same woodcutter who saved me? Hairy fellow?"
"That's the one. With dreamy blue eyes."
Gaheris grunted. "I didn't notice his pretty eyes. What were you doing gazing into his eyes, anyway?"
"A lady never tells," Lynet said primly.
Gaheris snorted expressively. After a moment he asked, "How long do I have to stay with this dreamy hairball?"
"Only a day or two, until things settle down a bit." Lynet hesitated, then added, "No longer than that, please. It will seem long enough as it is."
"Ay, lass. That it will."
To Lynet's relief, her sense of direction did not lead them astray. Just as the sun showed over the dark eastern horizon, they heard the rhymthic sound of an axe on wood. They stepped out of the forest into the small clearing, where Jean le Forestier was splitting logs into kindling. The woodcutter looked up from his work and watched them approach. Behind his bushy beard, his face seemed to clear as he recognized Lynet, but then it clouded again as he looked at Gaheris.
"Good morning, Jean," Lynet said. She plunged immediately into her request. "You'll think me very demanding, I'm afraid, but I'm in trouble, and I've come to ask your help once again."
"I am yours, my lady, to command," Jean said, his face turned to one side. At Jean's voice, Gaheris jumped as if pricked with a needle. "What is your desire?"
"This is a knight of King Arthur's Round Table. He has just been rescued from an enchantment and for his sake—and for mine—he must remain hidden for a day or two. May he stay with you?"
"I am sorry, my lady," Jean said gruffly. "It is impossible."
Lynet blinked with surprise, but pressed on. "He won't take up much space—"
"Quiet, lass," Gaheris broke in, his voice gentle but firm. "Our friend surely has his reasons. Forgive us, sir."
Jean le Forestier reddened behind his whiskers and muttered, "I ask your pardon, but it is not possible that I should have a guest."
"Especially one from Arthur's court?" Gaheris asked, a smile growing on his face. Jean looked sharply at Gaheris. Gaheris smiled more broadly and added, "Whether I stay with you or not, you should know that I will tell no one where you are."
"What are you talking about?" demanded Lynet.
"Then you know me?" the woodcutter whispered.
Gaheris nodded, and Lynet said, "For heaven's sake, Gary, what's going on?"
Gaheris was silent, looking at Jean le Forestier. At last, Jean nodded and said, "You may tell her."
"Lady Lynet, I am honored to present to you Sir Lancelot du Lac."
"I've never really understood why you left the court, Sir Lancelot. Would you explain it?" Lynet asked. They were sitting together on the stoop of the woodcutter's cottage, watching the woods grow light in the morning sun.
Sir Lancelot shook his head slowly. "I thought—Bah! I was so foolish! — I thought my honor demanded it."
"Because you lost one joust?" Gaheris asked, grinning. "Where would I be if I ran off every time I was unhorsed?"
"Africa at least, mon ami," Sir Lancelot said, his eyes brightening. "But it was different for me. I was the one all the young knights admired. I was the one that minstrels sang about."
"I thought you never paid any attention to the minstrels," Gaheris said.
"But of course I listened to them! It was how I knew what to do! They sang that knights wore bright clothing, and I wore bright clothing! They sang that knights were devout, and I took my own priest! Whatever they sang, I attempted. It was the minstrels who created me!"
"I see," Lynet said. "And when they sang that you were the greatest knight in England, you tried to be the greatest knight in England."
Sir Lancelot nodded. "Yes, that's it. And when I was defeated ... I was no one anymore."
They sat in thoughtful silence for several minutes. Then Lynet asked, "And how did you end up here?"
"It was an accident," Sir Lancelot said. "After I left Camelot, I wandered for many weeks, eating but little, speaking to few, fighting no one."
"Yes, we met one of the knights you didn't fight, a fellow in pink armor."
Sir Lancelot nodded. "Sir Perimones. I liked him."
"So did I," Gaheris said.
Sir Lancelot continue
d. "At last I came upon a holy man deep in a forest. I stayed with him in his—what do you call it?—ermitage?"
"That's it," Gaheris said. "Hermitage."
"Yes. The ermite asked if I were a knight, and I told him I was nothing. He said, 'Then you must become something. Learn some work. For in an empty world, you can only find joy in labor.'
"Three days later, weary of traveling, I came upon this cottage, half-built and abandoned. In the meadow I found a rusted axe and an old oxcart. I decided to stay. With the axe, I cut wood and finished the house. Every week I fill the oxcart with wood and pull it to the village to trade for food."
Lynet's eyes widened as she imagined one man pulling an oxcart full of wood all the way to the nearest village, at least two miles away. But, glancing at Sir Lancelot's huge arms and shoulders, she believed it. "And have you found joy in your labor?" Lynet asked.
Sir Lancelot nodded, and for the first time he smiled. "Look at that woodpile," he said. "Every log is chosen well, cut well, of an equal size." He spoke with simple pride. "And at the end of the day, when my arms and shoulders ache and I eat the food of my own earning, I am content."
"More than when you were the greatest knight in England?" Gaheris asked.
"Bah!" Sir Lancelot said, waving his hand in a gesture of dismissal. "To be a knight, it was easy for me. It was as natural as breathing. It is much greater to be the best woodcutter in the forest."
"Do you think you will ever be a knight again?" Lynet asked.
"Why should I?"
"Or I, for that matter," Gaheris said suddenly, a huge smile on his lips. "By Gog, why should I?"
"What do you mean?" Lynet asked.
"I'm no knight. You know that, Lancelot knows that, everyone knows that. I never wanted to be a knight, and I find no ... no joy in it. Listen, lass, would you mind moving to the north?"
The Savage Damsel and the Dwarf Page 13
