The Ballad of Sir Dinadan

by Gerald Morris

  "Was it a shadowy person with horns?" Brangienne asked abruptly.

  Dinadan nodded, his eyes on Brangienne's face. "Do you know Sylvanus?"

  "Is that his name? No. No, I don't. But the reason I'm here tonight was because someone like that woke me and sent me downstairs. It seems that I had better leave." Her voice was remarkably calm, Dinadan thought, as if she were planning to run a minor errand instead of leave the place where she had lived for more than three years. Her eyes met his. "But where?"

  Dinadan replied. "I thought I'd take you to Arthur's court," he said.

  "No." Her voice was still calm, almost matter-of-fact.

  "No?"

  "No," Brangienne replied decidedly. "You can't know what it's like, being a lady-in-waiting: your life devoted to helping foolish women do all the things that are most likely to keep them foolish. I want no more of courts."

  "Then ... then where? I don't know of any other place of safety."

  "How about a convent?" Brangienne asked.

  "A convent? You?"

  Brangienne smiled. "Don't think I'm being rash. I've been planning this for ages. I dream every night of leaving this place, but I will not leave just to go to another like it. I want to be with people of sense, which means I should be with women, but not with noblewomen. Do you know any convents we could get to in a day or two?"

  Dinadan thought for a moment. "I know an Abbey—Saint Anselm's—and one of the monks there is a friend. He might know of a convent. How long will it take you to pack?"

  Brangienne almost laughed. "I've been packed for three years now. Are your horses in the courtyard? I'll meet you there."

  And so it was that a week later, having followed Brother Eliot's directions to the Sisters of Joy Convent, Dinadan delivered Brangienne to a fierce-looking woman with heavy jowls and thick eyebrows under an imposing wimple. The nun took Brangienne in without a murmur, but glared at Dinadan as if he were a murderer. Dinadan blinked at the woman's glare and said mildly, "You're sure about this, Brangienne?"

  Brangienne looked at Dinadan, and her face softened. "I'll be all right, Dinadan. Thank you." Then she went inside, her fine gown ridiculously out of place beside her escort's plain habit, and the gates closed behind her.

  VIII The Horn of Igraine

  While Dinadan was not completely comfortable leaving Brangienne with that scowling nun, it seemed likely that she was safe for the time being. But if Iseult was going to keep looking for her, then that safety was only temporary. Dinadan had been considering the matter, and now he knew what he had to do. If Iseult wanted Brangienne dead in order to conceal the story of the magic potion, then he had to show her that killing her would make matters worse. Dinadan headed back toward Tintagel.

  About noon on his fourth day of traveling, as he retraced his steps back to Cornwall, he heard a familiar sound, an odd, melodic strumming. Dinadan stopped abruptly. "Palomides?" he called. The music stopped, and a moment later Palomides appeared from a camp in the trees.

  "Is it you indeed, my friend? I am overjoyed," the Moor said.

  "What are you doing here? Didn't you go to Camelot?" Dinadan asked, dismounting and embracing the Moor.

  "No, my friend. Before I had gone a furlong I realized that I did not wish to continue without you." Dinadan blinked, then smiled. "So, my friend, I have been waiting for you," Palomides explained.

  "But how did you know I'd be coming back this way?"

  "I did not know, of course, but it was reasonable. Something that Queen Iseult said sent you away with an urgent message. I decided that something so urgent would probably bring you back to see her again." Dinadan was silent, and Palomides added, "I do not ask what it was."

  Dinadan nodded. "Yes, and thank you for that, but I think I should trust you. You see, it wasn't something Iseult said that sent me away, but something I said, about Lady Brangienne. The reason that Iseult wants to find her is to keep her from telling a secret. Brangienne has been in hiding from Iseult for three years, but through my own carelessness, Iseult learned her whereabouts."

  Palomides's jaw tightened. "But it was I who told this to Queen Iseult. Did I indeed put a lady's life in danger?"

  "You weren't to know," Dinadan said. "But it's all right now. Brangienne's safe in a different place."

  Palomides's eyes were hot. "I do not like to give aid, even unwittingly, to the wicked," he said sternly. "You go to Queen Iseult now?"

  Dinadan nodded. "I'm going to tell her that I know her secret, too, and that if anything happens to Brangienne, I'll tell everyone in England." They stood silent for a moment, then Dinadan shook off his solemnity. "But there's no need for you to go along. After all, you're looking for great knights, and all they've got at Tintagel is Tristram."

  "Perhaps I may find another," Palomides replied calmly. "Allow me to saddle my horse."

  And so they rode together toward Tintagel, taking turns playing and singing.

  They were only an hour from Tintagel when they came upon a knight resting in a clearing beside the road. As was his practice with every knight they met, Palomides rode up to meet him, and so by the time Dinadan recognized Sir Lamorak it was too late to turn away. "Blast," Dinadan muttered.

  Palomides glanced at Dinadan. "What is wrong, my friend?...Oh, I see."

  "Hello, friend knights," Sir Lamorak said, striding forward and smiling pleasantly.

  They stopped their horses. "Good day, Sir Lamorak," Dinadan said.

  Sir Lamorak frowned. "Do I know you?" he asked with surprise.

  "I couldn't say," Dinadan said. "My name is Dinadan, and this is Sir Palomides."

  Sir Lamorak stared, as everyone did, at Palomides's dark skin. "But I have seen you before! I was engaged in mortal combat with Sir Tristram and a dark-skinned knight rode up and watched! Surely it was you, Sir Palomides."

  "It was," Palomides replied evenly. "I am impressed that even in such a battle as that you were aware of our arrival."

  "Are you friends of Sir Tristram's?" Sir Lamorak asked abruptly.

  "No," Palomides and Dinadan replied together.

  Sir Lamorak smiled again, at least with his lips, and said, "That's too bad. You see I am looking for friends of Tristram's who might deliver a message to him."

  "Bad luck," Dinadan replied. "Keep looking, though. Tristram must have a friend somewhere."

  Sir Lamorak ignored him. "But maybe you could help anyway," he continued. "You see, I've been feeling bad about always fighting with Sir Tristram over whose lady is fairest."

  "You should," Palomides replied. "To squabble like a child over your lady's reputation only stains it."

  Sir Lamorak's lips tightened, but then he smiled weakly. "As you say. So, because I feel so bad, I want to make amends. I have a gift for Queen Iseult. I don't suppose you're on your way to Tintagel, are you?"

  "We are," said Palomides.

  "What good luck! Do you think you could deliver this present for me? I'm not sure that I'd be allowed in, you see, what with Tristram being there and all. Here, let me show it to you." He reached into his pack and produced a silver horn that shone with faint, greenish light. "This is a magic horn, from the faery beauty whom I love. She says it was charmed by the great enchantress Igraine herself, and she sends it with her compliments. Its magic is such that any noble soul who drinks from it will double in beauty after one drink."

  "What if your soul isn't noble?" Dinadan asked, skeptical. It didn't seem a very suitable gift for Iseult.

  Sir Lamorak smiled again. "My lady sends this horn expressly for Queen Iseult, and she knows best what it will do. Please, would you deliver it for me?"

  "We do not go to give gifts," Palomides said.

  "But couldn't you take it along anyway?" Sir Lam-orak pleaded. "I promised my lady that I would send it to her, and how shall I do so if you will not help me?"

  Sir Lamorak's voice was plaintive, and Dinadan wrinkled his nose with distaste, but Palomides only sighed softly. "For the sake of your promise, I will," he said an
d took the horn.

  ***

  It was evening when they arrived at Tintagel. Palo-mides stopped his horse before the great castle gates and demanded the right of a knight errant to gain entrance. The gates opened to them. They rode together into the castle, surrendered their horses to an elderly groom, and were informed that the king and queen were at dinner. The knights hesitated, but a steward assured them that King Mark had standing orders that wandering knights should be shown to him immediately upon their arrival.

  "Very hospitable," Palomides said, but Dinadan was not so sure.

  The steward took them to the banquet room, and Palomides and Dinadan stepped unannounced into the hall. Servants bustled about with trays of food, and a dozen or so knights and ladies sat at a long banquet table. At its head was a pale, thin man wearing a large and heavy-looking crown that came so far down his head that it covered his eyebrows and rested on his ears. King Mark, Dinadan decided. At the foot of the table sat Iseult, and beside her was Tristram.

  "Why, hello!" Tristram exclaimed, standing and gazing at Palomides. He started forward, as if to welcome the travelers. "Fancy seeing you again. Sir Dino-mides, isn't it?"

  "I'll welcome my own guests, Tristram," King Mark said querulously. He sounded as thin and sickly as he looked. "Well? What do you want?" he demanded.

  "Yes, that's a much better welcome," Dinadan murmured to himself. He bowed slightly and said in a louder voice, "Good evening, your highness. I am Sir Dinadan, of King Arthur's court, and this is my friend Sir Palomides."

  "Friend, is he?" King Mark replied. "Looked like a deuced Moor, to me."

  Palomides made no reply, and Dinadan said as gently as he could, "He is a Moor, which would account for his looking like one."

  King Mark's eyes narrowed, but all he said was, "Well?"

  "With your highness's permission, I have come with a private message for Queen Iseult. I am sorry that we have interrupted your dinner, though, and I would be happy to wait until you are done to give it."

  "A private message?" King Mark asked. His eyes were tiny slits now.

  "I do not permit it!" declared Tristram suddenly.

  King Mark focused his suspicious eyes on Tristram now. "You do not permit it?" he repeated.

  Tristram lifted his chin. "The queen and I have no secrets."

  King Mark started to turn red, and Iseult said, "Be quiet, Sir Tristram."

  "Have you not?" King Mark said, through clenched teeth. "And have the two of you no secrets from me?"

  Iseult's eyes opened wide, and she assumed the childish voice that she had used on Palomides and Dinadan back on the trail. "But of courthe not, my lord. Why, whatever could you mean?"

  For several seconds King Mark glared silently at Iseult and Tristram, while the rest of the lords and ladies of the court gazed at their plates without moving. Watching them, Dinadan concluded that they were used to such exchanges as these and had developed the ability to fade into the background and draw no attention to themselves. Very like hedgehogs, he thought.

  Palomides spoke for the first time. "If it please your highness, we mean no disrespect to you or to the queen. We merely bear some news for her concerning her former maid, Lady Brangienne. It is of no interest to anyone but the queen, and if we may tell her, we shall leave at once and bother you no further."

  At Brangienne's name Iseult glanced up eagerly. "Ith she dead?"

  Dinadan felt a twinge of nausea, but he took a breath and said, "That's the matter I want to talk to you about."

  Iseult started to stand, but King Mark interrupted. "No one speaks to my wife without my permission!"

  Tristram raised one hand placatingly and said to the king, "Here's a solution that will make everyone happy. Why don't these knights give their message to me, and then I'll tell Iseult later, when we're alone."

  "Ssh, Tristram!" Iseult hissed. King Mark looked at the queen and at Tristram, his face turning red and a vein bulging in his neck.

  "You have no reason to be alone with my wife! And as for you two," the king roared at Palomides and Dinadan, "get out!"

  Iseult caught Dinadan's eye and favored him with a series of winks and nods and odd grimaces. She looked as if she were having a mild fit, but Dinadan guessed she was trying to convey a message, probably to wait for her outside. Dinadan glanced at Palomides. "Come on. Let's go."

  "No," he said. "We must speak to Queen Iseult. And besides, we have that gift to give her."

  Iseult smiled brightly. "A gift? You brought a gift for me?"

  "I forbid you to give my wife a gift!" King Mark shouted.

  "It is not from us," Palomides said calmly. He produced the magic horn. "This is a gift from Sir Lamorak and from his lady. Sir Lamorak begs pardon from the queen for having slighted her beauty and offers her the Horn of Igraine. The horn is said to be magical and to double the beauty of all who drink of it, provided their hearts are noble." Iseult squeaked excitedly, but Palo-mides ignored her. He set the horn on the table beside her, then looked up at King Mark. "I shall leave you to your dinner, but we will speak to your lady before we leave Tintagel."

  The king did not respond. He was watching Iseult, who had eagerly snatched up the horn and filled it with wine from her own cup. "Double beauty!" she said breathlessly, raising the cup to her lips.

  Wine splattered everywhere, splashing Iseult's face and dribbling in a stream over the front of her gown. Iseult screamed with annoyance and anger. "Who jostled me?" she demanded. A drop of wine trembled at the end of her nose, then fell. "I'll have your head for this, whoever it was. Who did it?"

  "No one touched you," Palomides said calmly, but Iseult didn't hear.

  "Look at my dress! Ruined! The whole cup of wine spilled. I didn't even get a taste!"

  "Waste of good wine," Dinadan murmured.

  Several ladies had rushed to the queen's assistance and were ineffectually dabbing at her stained gown with their handkerchiefs. Iseult continued scolding, and Dinadan watched the scene with interest. While Iseult was preoccupied, one of the ladies gently took the horn from Iseult's hand and surreptitiously filled it from a flagon of wine. Evidently, she thought to double her own beauty while she had the chance. She lifted the horn to her lips, and the wine poured itself down her chin and breast. She shrieked with dismay, attracting Iseult's attention. Iseult screamed even louder. "That's mine! Give it back!" With one hand, Iseult snatched the horn away from the lady, and with the other she grabbed the lady's hair and began to pull it vigorously.

  Palomides turned away, disgusted, but Dinadan watched the melee with growing appreciation. Iseult appeared frail and ethereal but was evidently stronger than she looked. No one could break her grip either on her lady's hair or on the faery horn. "It's mine, it's mine, it's mine!" she rapped out. In the middle of the knot of tugging women was Tristram, himself liberally spattered with wine, trying helplessly to disentangle himself.

  A low laugh came from the great doors behind King Mark's seat, and all the company turned to see a beautiful woman, splendidly clad in a gown that glowed with an eerie light, standing just inside the hall. The ladies, occupied with each other's hair and eyes, were the last to notice the visitor, but once they saw her, even they grew still. Iseult stopped screaming and pulling, though her hand remained twined in her lady's hair. "I see you've received my gift," the woman said with an evil smile. No one spoke, and after a moment, the woman said, "But perhaps my young lover did not completely explain its magic, for I see no reason to fight over it. Indeed, I hope that all this court might drink of it."

  The woman paced majestically forward until she was beside King Mark. "Know this, O king. That horn is a test. Only the one who is faithful in love may drink from it. If anyone who is unfaithful tries to drink, the wine will spill out and stain the drinker."

  "What?" King Mark roared. His vein was bulging again.

  Iseult's eyes widened as she looked at King Mark. "You ... you don't bewieve thith woman, do you, my wuv?"

  "I knew it!" King
Mark shouted. "It's that Tristram, isn't it? You think you were clever, but I'm no fool!"

  "No, no!" Iseult said earnestly. "You mutht be imagining things!"

  The lady whose hair Iseult still held said sharply, "Well, if he is, then so is everyone else. For heaven's sake, everyone knows about your affair with Tristram!"

  King Mark turned purple and Tristram pushed himself forward. "That's impossible!" he declared. "I haven't told a soul!"

  Iseult shrieked, "You idiot!" and King Mark began to rave incoherently, hopping up and down. He was joined in his fury by one of the knights sitting beside him, apparently the husband of the second stained lady. He had evidently just grasped the implications of the horn's magic for himself, and was no better pleased than the king. Dinadan looked at Tristram and shook his head, wondering how he could possibly be related to this clodpole.

  "You trollop!" the knight beside King Mark shouted. "Who is it? Who have you been dallying with? Mother told me you were no good!"

  "They're all trollops!" King Mark shrieked, beside himself. "All women are false! They shall all drink from the horn! Every one! Who shall be first?"

  There was a general cry of dismay from the ladies and from some of the men, who begged the king to make no rash decisions. Several ladies began edging toward the door, and one fainted, or pretended to. King Mark and the other husband continued to rant, Iseult and her spattered lady to plead, and Tristram to look confused for several minutes, and in the hubbub Dinadan noticed that the faery beauty had disappeared.

  King Mark appeared to be set on taking his revenge on the whole company by forcing every lady in the room to drink from the horn, and was even starting to line them up, when Palomides, his face in grim disgust, stepped forward and took the horn from the table. "Stop this foolishness," he said evenly.

  The vein in King Mark's throat bulged again, larger than ever. Dinadan watched its pounding with interest, then said, "I believe you're about to go off in an apoplexy, your highness. Not that I'm opposed to it, mind, but I thought you'd want to know."

  King Mark ignored him. "Do you dare oppose my will?" he demanded of Palomides.