It was certainly fitting at the moment. Culloch had just burst out with another inane laugh and said, "Hey, Stearnes! I mean Dinadan—Ho ho, that'll take some getting used to won't it?—I was just thinking!"
"Were you?" Dinadan asked.
"Yes. Yes, I was. Now, what was I thinking? Oh, yes, do you remember that minstrel you outsang at the market that day? What do you think he'd think if he knew you were really a knight? Ho ho!"
Dinadan didn't answer. It was hardly ever necessary to answer Culloch's questions. Sir Kai closed his eyes in anguish. "How long did you promise to stay with this addlepate?" he asked Sir Bedivere in a low voice.
"Until he's achieved knighthood or has given up trying," Bedivere said softly. He smiled ruefully at his cousin. "It may take longer than I thought."
"Not so long if I kill him," Sir Kai muttered.
Perhaps to change the subject, Sir Bedivere turned to Dinadan. "I liked the way you handled yourself at court last night, young Dinadan."
"What do you mean, Sir Bedivere?" Dinadan asked, blushing.
"Call me Bedivere. I meant the way that you downplayed your own victory before the king. Believe me, young knights are more likely to exaggerate their deeds than otherwise."
"I think I've already done that enough," Dinadan muttered. At Bedivere's questioning glance, he explained. "You see, I wrote that song about my victory myself."
Sir Kai glanced quickly at Dinadan, but the knight's eyes were unreadable. "Ah, yes," Bedivere said. "As you were traveling as a minstrel. So, in your retelling, you made yourself more heroic than you were?"
"Yes, but not for my own sake," Dinadan added hastily. "It just made for a better story the way I told it. That's all."
"So what really happened?" Bedivere asked quietly. Dinadan told him. He meant to tell only the barest outline of the true story, but Bedivere listened intently and asked questions, so by the time he had done, Bedivere knew every detail. The knight said, "You did rather improve on the tale, didn't you?"
Dinadan nodded.
"But," Bedivere added, "you went back alone to face Sir Annui, only to help Sir Edmund. That argues considerable courage, which is much more knightly than mere skill with weapons. I don't think that Arthur made a mistake in admitting you to the table, do you, Kai?"
Sir Kai, who had had not looked at Dinadan during the story, but who had kept his horse within earshot, pursed his lips, then said abruptly, "I gather you're not any good with a sword."
Dinadan swallowed. "No, sir."
"Pity. But I suppose swordsmanship's not everything." With that, he kicked his horse and trotted ahead.
Bedivere chuckled. "You may not believe it, Dinadan, but that was Kai's way of showing approval."
"Then I hope I never see his disapproval."
"That would be too much to ask, lad," Bedivere said, still smiling. "Say, what's ahead?"
Culloch, who had ridden ahead, had come to a halt at the top of the next hill, where he appeared to be talking with a stranger. As they drew near, Culloch laughed with delight and launched into a jumble of introductions. "My name is Culloch, and I'm going to be a great knight someday, so you'll want to remember that name, and these are my helpers, Kai and Bedivere and Stearnes."
The stranger to whom these words were addressed turned in his saddle, and Dinadan saw with sharp interest that he carried a lyre. "Is it indeed the Great Kai, slayer of kings, whom I see before me? It is an honor, sir." The stranger bowed as deeply as he could, but as he was short of stature and wide of girth and sitting in a saddle besides, this was not very low.
"Ay, my name's Kai," the knight said gruffly.
Without another word, the stranger slipped his lyre from his shoulder, strummed the strings once, then began to proclaim in a voice that was half singing, "'Tis Kai, the great, the mightiest of the mighty, who slew five kings with one fell blow—"
"Was it really five?" Dinadan whispered to Bedivere.
"Two," Bedivere replied, "and not in one blow either."
The strange minstrel continued, "—Kai, who can live nine days and nine nights under water without breathing, and who can stay nine days and nine nights awake without sleep. Kai, whose sword cleaves a wound that no physic can cure. Kai, who can be as tall as the tallest tree when he chooses, and whose anger burns so hot that he stays dry even in the heaviest rain. Kai, the great, the magnificent, the unmatched. Yea, my lords and ladies, 'tis Kai."
The minstrel bowed again and seemed to be expecting applause, but he was met with utter silence. At last Bedivere said, "Why, Kai, I believe you've been holding out on us."
Kai rolled his eyes. "He forgot to mention that I can start a fire by rubbing a stick on a minstrel's back. Shall I show you?"
Culloch, who had been frowning over the minstrel's paean to Kai, caught at least part of this speech. "A fire! And dinner! Yes, Kai, you are right. It is past dinnertime! Friend minstrel, will you join us? You are welcome to our camp and to our quest as well, if you like!"
Culloch swung down from his horse at once. After a quick exchange of glances, Bedivere and Kai joined him. The minstrel bowed again. "I am honored too deeply for words."
"Well, that's something," said Sir Kai.
"I shall certainly join you on your quest. My name," the minstrel paused expressively, "is Wadsworth."
He appeared to expect the others to know the name, but clearly none did. Bedivere smiled a polite greeting, Dinadan nodded, and Kai muttered cryptically, "Yes, very likely."
Over the fire that night, Culloch found his knightly deed. Despite Wadsworth's claim to be speechless, he talked as incessantly as Culloch, and shortly after they had begun eating, the minstrel told Culloch about a wealthy king named Isbaddadon who lived just a day's journey to the west. "The king has just proclaimed that his own fair daughter Olwen must marry, but the knight who earns her hand has to prove himself first, by performing great tasks!"
Culloch's eyes lit up, but Bedivere said quietly, "I see no value in this, Culloch. King Arthur will be more pleased with deeds done to help the weak than with those done to win a bride for yourself."
"And besides," Dinadan added. "Do you really want to get married? You don't even know this Olwen. Chances are she's a fright."
"But what if she's beautiful?" Culloch said.
"Even worse," Dinadan replied promptly. "Surely you don't mean to be one of those pathetic men who always chase after pretty women, slave to each, despised by all?"
Sir Kai nodded curt approval at Dinadan, but Culloch was unconvinced. Nothing anyone could say had the least effect, and when he rolled over to sleep off his dinner, it was clear that he would take up King Isbaddadon's challenge.
The next morning, pausing only for an hour and a half for breakfast, Culloch was off, pushing his horse at a grueling pace. Only the minstrel Wadsworth made any effort to keep up with him, and so it happened that Culloch was far ahead and well out of earshot when they heard a woman's cry for help. Bedivere pulled up sharply and looked about. "It came from the woods to the south," Dinadan said.
"Come on, then," Bedivere said, "and blast Culloch for riding ahead and missing his chance to do something of value." Bedivere spurred his horse into the thickets, followed by Sir Kai and Dinadan. A minute later they heard the woman's voice again, this time not calling for help but rather embarked on a furious and very eloquent tirade against someone.
As one, the three knights pulled up. "Are we going to help the woman or the person she's speaking to?" Dinadan asked mildly.
Kai grinned, and Bedivere replied. "Let's take a look. In truth, it sounds as if this woman may be able to take care of herself."
They dismounted and crept forward through the woods. A moment later they came upon a strange scene. A lady in expensive, but torn and dirty, robes was tied to a tree. Two burly men, wearing the livery of castle guards, stood panting before her. One had long scratches on his face. It appeared that they had only that moment finished securing her and were resting from the exertion. The lady had
long black hair, almost to her waist, and would have been quite pretty, but she was not at her best. Her face was smudged, and her hair wildly tangled. Moreover, she was embarked on the most eloquent denunciation of her captors—and of the entire race of men—that Dinadan had ever heard. From a purely artistic point of view, he had to acknowledge that she had a gift with language. The knights stopped behind a large gorse bush to watch.
"—and furthermore, you're ugly, even more so than most men. I suppose I ought to thank your master for being so thoughtful as to send two foul, rump-fed, tumor-ridden, pox-marked creatures to murder me. It almost makes me welcome death, to think that at least I shall no longer inhabit the same earth and breathe the same air as two such blisters as you!"
"My lady," one guard protested. "You know we didn't ask for this task. But you tried to poison our mistress!"
"Don't be an ass! She was my mistress, too! What would I gain by killing her?"
The other guard tried—unsuccessfully, in Dinadan's opinion—to look cunning, and said, "Ah, but you be a sorceress, they say. You could have dark schemes."
The lady rolled her eyes. "What a gudgeon! Look here, cod's head, if I were a sorceress, you would both be toads by now." She gasped suddenly. "Why, good heavens! You are toads! I must be a sorceress after all!"
The first guard rose. "Come on, Jem. Let's get it over with. Take her head off, and we can go home."
Bedivere coughed politely and stepped from behind the bush. The guards whirled around. "Pardon my intrusion, madam, but I feel compelled to interrupt. My good men, you will most certainly not kill this lady."
"Lady! She's a witch!"
Dinadan laughed, and he and Sir Kai followed Bedivere. "I daresay she is," Kai said. "You still can't kill her."
"Come now," Dinadan added, "if she were a witch, could these ropes hold her?" Producing his hunting knife, Dinadan cut through the woman's bonds, and she lurched away from the tree.
"Watch out!" the guards shouted, taking several quick steps back. "She's dangerous!"
Bedivere put his hand on his sword. "If you or anyone else has a complaint about this woman, let it be taken to King Arthur's court, where we are knights of his Round Table."
At the knowledge that they faced Arthur's knights, the guards' belligerance dissolved. After a short mumbled apology, they backed away into the shrubbery, and a moment later Dinadan heard them mounting horses and riding away. Bedivere turned to the lady. "I hope you've come to no harm, my lady."
"Well, that's a fatuous thing to say," the lady snapped, rubbing her wrists. "Why don't you try being roped to a tree and see how you like it?"
Bedivere lifted one eyebrow, but lost none of his polish. "Indeed, my lady. Is there somewhere that we could conduct you where you might be safe?"
"I doubt it," the lady said, half to herself. "I suppose I should thank you for helping me anyway, even though it didn't take much to scare off those two louts."
"It seems to me, Bedivere," Dinadan said thoughtfully, "that this gracious lady would rather be left alone. Shall we?"
"Peace, Dinadan. My lady, as we cannot be certain that those two have truly gone, I hope you will accept our offer of an escort from this place. My name is Bedivere, and these are Sir Dinadan and Sir Kai, both of King Arthur's Round Table."
The lady looked appraisingly at Bedivere and Kai, and skeptically at Dinadan, but at last she nodded. "I don't suppose I can refuse. My name is Brangienne."
They made room for Lady Brangienne on Dinadan's spare horse by dividing its load between them, then set out. She could tell them no place to take her, and so they resumed following Culloch. After all, Bedivere said, perhaps she would be safe at the castle of King Isbaddadon. The lady acquiesced grudgingly. "I don't see that I've gained much," she muttered. "I'm rid of two men, but now I'm stuck with three."
Bedivere smiled, still unruffled. "At least we shan't tie you to a tree, my lady."
"However much we may be tempted," added Dinadan. Lady Brangienne scowled blackly at Dinadan, who ignored her and took out his rebec. "Say, Bedivere, have I sung you my song about ladyhood yet? I wrote this one after I met the lovely Lady Miriam." Crossing his legs on his saddle, Dinadan tuned the rebec, then began.
"A dragon from the swampy fen
Became a wretched pest
He ate most all the crops of men
And set to fire the rest.
"He burned the castle of a knight
And stripped his storehouse bare.
He drank the moat, then in the night,
He stole his lady fair.
"Alas! What woe! The knight did howl!
A wretched choice! Alack!
For if he slew the lizard foul,
He'd get the lady back!
"To fight a worm is doubly hard
When equal evils cancel.
Which one is better to discard?
The dragon? Or the damsel?"
When Dinadan was done, Sir Kai's eyes wrinkled at the corners, and even Bedivere's lips trembled, but neither spoke. Dinadan smiled blandly at the lady. That she was furious was clear, but Dinadan saw something else in her eyes—a speculative curiosity.
Dinadan sat between Bedivere and Sir Kai at King Is-baddadon's long banquet table and folded his hands patiently. The ladies had not yet come to dinner, and courtly custom demanded that the men not eat until all were seated. King Isbaddadon, though, was less constrained by courtly custom and was already burrowing into his first plate of food. On Bedivere's other side, Culloch also restrained himself for the sake of manners, but he fidgeted and gazed longingly at the food. Dinadan sympathized with him. It did seem pointless to observe the niceties of correct behavior before King Isbaddadon, who clearly regarded both polite behavior and his knightly guests as bothersome matters he would as soon be rid of.
He seemed especially disturbed by Culloch, and every few moments, the king would look up from his platter to gaze balefully at his daughter's would-be suitor. He evidently did not consider Culloch a suitable match. Culloch seemed oblivious to his host's antipathy, though; his eyes never left his plate of food. As for Sir Kai, his eyes never left the king. Under his breath, he muttered to Bedivere. "I told you we should have brought our weapons to dinner."
"It would have been an insult, Kai. One doesn't arm oneself for a banquet."
"You think our host gives a groat for such scruples? You'll notice he brought a weapon." It was true. A long boar spear leaned conspicuously against the table at King Isbaddadon's right.
There was a rustle of drapes, and the ladies appeared at last. First came Lady Olwen, King Isbaddadon's daughter, then a bevy of ladies-in-waiting. Last of these was Lady Brangienne, who was now evidently a part of Lady Olwen's retinue. Dinadan noted this with mild surprise, but his eyes returned to Lady Olwen. It would have been hard to find a more unremarkable lady. She had a plain, round face that was made to look even rounder by her choice of hairstyle—two fat pigtails sticking out from each side of her head. She was short, even squat, and walked with neither grace nor assurance. From the contours of her figure, it was evident that she was a woman, but her expression was that of a child, and an uncommonly spoiled one at that. Dinadan glanced sharply at Culloch, who was proposing to endure great trials for the hand of this lady, but Culloch showed no surprise or regret or indeed anything else. As soon as the ladies had appeared, Culloch had turned his whole attention to eating.
"It seems that our companion has found a home here," Bedivere murmured in his ear. "I am not surprised. I guessed she had been a lady-in-waiting."
"Ladies-in-waiting are shrewish, are they?" Dinadan asked innocently. Bedivere shook his head, but did not reply, and the two applied themselves to their meals.
All who ate at the table finished at roughly the same time, even though some (Isbaddadon and Culloch) ate twice as much as the others. Dinadan noticed that Lady Olwen did justice to her dinner as well, but that the ladies-in-waiting ate nothing. At last the king rose and turned his attention to his guest
s.
"Well, Ollie!" he trumpeted to his daughter. "What d'ye think of your suitor?"
Lady Olwen simpered and blinked very rapidly at Culloch. The eyelid movement was apparently supposed to be flirtatious, but Dinadan found it oddly disconcerting. Culloch raised his cup and grinned foolishly.
"Blast it," Bedivere muttered. "The lad's fuddled."
"And he's even brought us a gift, a fine wench to be your lady-in-waiting!" Isbaddadon laughed without humor, and was joined by Culloch, who had come to the rollicking stage of his inebriation. The king bowed toward the lady in question and said, "Welcome, Lady Bragwaine."
The lady looked pained. "My lord, forgive me, but my name is Brangienne."
The king grunted. "One of those pothersome foreign names!" he announced, as if this explained something. He turned back toward Culloch, and his eyes grew hard. "But we can't give my gel away just because you gave us one, too. Can't trade even up for a princess, now, can I? What can you offer me in exchange?" Culloch babbled something nearly incoherent, but the word "task" appeared several times, and King Isbaddadon snapped back, "Of course you'll do a task, as many as I ask! But I want something now! Tell us a tale, why don't you?"
Culloch hiccuped and grinned. Dinadan closed his eyes with anguish. Another cup and Culloch would be under the table.
"I said—"
Dinadan started to speak, but before he could say a word a shrill voice interrupted from the servants' gallery. It was Wadsworth. "Your gracious highness! If I may, I shall speak for my master and shall tell thee a tale!"
King Isbaddadon glared at the minstrel, then shrugged. "Make it a good one, then, and your master lives." He leaned back in his chair and reached for another flagon of wine.
Wadsworth strummed his instrument, then said, "Because your lordship is here in Wales, I tell of a Welsh hero, and call upon all the Welsh heroes to witness my telling. I call upon Gwydden the Difficult, Sugyn son of Sugynedydd (who could suck up a sea in a draught), Cacamwri the Barn Flailer, Llong, Dygyvlong, Anoeth the Bold, Eiddyl the Tall, and Amren the Also Tall, Gwevyl son of Gwastad (whose lip drooped to his navel when he was sad), and Uchdryd Cross Beard."
The Ballad of Sir Dinadan Page 4
