The Princess, the Crone, and the Dung-Cart Knight

by Gerald Morris

  Sarah hesitated, then moved her sword point away from the knight's throat. He pushed himself away slowly, then scrambled to his feet and backed away.

  "Durnard's been needing a trimming anyway," the smith's boy said lightly, watching the guard. "Altogether too surly, by half. Parsifal's had to remind him several times to speak politely to visitors. Perhaps this will cure him."

  "Is Sir Parsifal really away?" Sarah asked.

  "He is. Were you seeking him?" the young man replied.

  "Yes. The ... I was sent here and told that Sir Parsifal would give me an escort to Camelot. I have to speak to the king."

  "Are Sir Kai and the queen all right?" the young man asked. His eyes looked keenly into hers.

  "I..." Sarah stopped herself. "What do you mean, sir?"

  "Piers. Just call me Piers," the young man answered. "It's your sword, you see. My father made that sword. I sharpened it myself and placed it in Sir Kai's hands just four days ago. If you have it, that can only mean that something has happened to him."

  "Sir Kai gave it to me before it happened, though," Sarah said hurriedly.

  "Before what happened?" Piers asked.

  Sarah swallowed. "I was told not to tell anyone but Sir Parsifal."

  "By whom?" he asked.

  "The ... the enchantress's sister," Sarah replied.

  Piers didn't look as if he knew who this was, but he must have been satisfied, because he said only, "I see. Or rather I don't, but I see you can't tell me. And you need to take your message to Arthur?"

  Sarah nodded. "Sir Kai asked me to."

  "Can you at least tell me if they are alive?" Piers asked gently.

  "They were when I last saw them," Sarah said, after a brief pause. "But Sir Kai is badly hurt."

  "We'll leave at once," the young man said. He shouted a summons, and when a servant appeared he gave instructions for two horses and food to be readied and various other preparations to be made. This blacksmith's apprentice appeared to have an uncommon amount of authority in the castle. Other servants appeared and began to scurry about the darkening castle, and a tall lady in a beautiful gown stepped out of the central keep and approached them.

  "What is to do, my Piers?" the woman asked.

  "This girl has an urgent message for King Arthur, Mother," Piers replied. "We must leave at once."

  "But you must do no such thing," the lady replied calmly. She turned to Sarah. "Have you eaten, ma chèrie?"

  "Not since this morning," Sarah admitted. "I've been walking since then."

  "Come with me," the lady replied.

  "Mother—" Piers said.

  "You must forgive my son," the lady said to Sarah gently. "Please believe that he was taught manners, but sadly he grows more like his father every day."

  "Mother—" Piers said again.

  "Pas de raisonnements, Pierre! This girl will most certainly not ride all night with you. You are two days from Camelot, n'est-ce pas? When will you sleep? During the day? Bah! Va t'-en! You will sleep here tonight and leave at daybreak. The lady and I shall dine in my rooms, I believe."

  Clearly defeated, Piers swept a bow and said, "It shall be as you wish, Mother."

  "But of course it shall be," the lady replied, her eyes dancing. "You must make preparations for the morning now, yes?" And then she swept Sarah into the castle.

  Sarah had never been inside a castle before. Riding across England in Mordecai's peddler's wagon, she had seen many, but from the outside they had always seemed fierce and unhospitable places, bristling and spikey like angry boars. Thus it was with some trepidation that she stepped across the stone threshold behind the lady and followed her down the gloomy hallways to the lady's room. Once in the room, though, Sarah was surprised to find an inviting, homey, warmly lit chamber. The dark stone walls were softened by bright tapestries and small lamps glowing in sconces, and a fire in a hearth spread its warmth through the room, right into Sarah's bones. The lady guided Sarah to an upholstered chair before the fire and swept Sarah's old cloak off of her.

  "But what a lovely dress, my dear!" the lady said approvingly. "I am Lady Marie, chief lady-in-waiting to Queen Conduiramour, the mistress of this castle. You sit here, and we shall have dinner brought to you directly."

  "You're a queen's lady?" Sarah asked with awe. It seemed unspeakably grand to be in the room of a real queen's lady-in-waiting. Of course, just two days before she had eaten a meal with the Queen of All England, but that didn't count, because Sarah hadn't known her name at the time. Another thought came to her. "So that's why Piers acted so important, ordering people around: because his mother is a grand lady."

  Tiny dimples appeared on Lady Marie's cheeks, but she only replied, "Who can say why a man thinks he is important? They all do, for one reason or another. It is best to allow them to think so, you know, or they become quite unmanageable." She leaned over Sarah's dress and scrutinized it. "My dear, your dress is of the loveliest, but it has been roughly used, has it not?"

  Sarah nodded and colored, suddenly and acutely aware of the mud that caked the hem and the dozens of nicks and tears in the cloth.

  "Would you permit me to provide you with a new gown?"

  "You are very kind, ma'am," Sarah replied. "But this one ... it was a gift, you see."

  "But of course, and a gift fit for a queen it was. Indeed, with a wash and a few stitches it will be as good as new, and quite worthy of comparison with all the most splendid gowns that you will see at King Arthur's court. May I?"

  She held out her hand invitingly, and Sarah—struck with the image that Lady Marie had suggested, of dozens of gorgeously clad ladies at Camelot critically examining her clothes—nodded. Together they removed Sarah's dress and underdress, and Sarah had just wrapped herself in a velvet robe that Lady Marie produced for her when Piers arrived, bringing with him a tray piled high with bread and roasted fowl.

  "Fie, Piers!" Lady Marie exclaimed. "Do you know no better than to enter a lady's chamber without knocking?"

  "I beg your pardon, ma'am," Piers said to Sarah. Then he added, to his mother, "I did not know you would be dressing."

  "I am going to wash and mend our friend's gown this evening, so that she shall be convenable at the court."

  "She isn't going to a ball, Mother," Piers said mildly. "I see no reason for you to do all that work."

  "I am sure, myself, that you do not," Lady Marie replied. "But that does not mean that there is no reason, only that you are not enough clever to see it. Thank you for the food. Now, go away and tell the cook to begin warming water for a bath. I shall send for it within the hour. Go now."

  Piers sighed. "I brought the food up myself because I wished to tell you that all is in readiness. I shall come back here at dawn."

  "Yes, very well," Lady Marie said. "Take yourself off, now, and don't forget that bath water. Indeed, you would do well to have a bath yourself, as you will be riding with a lady." She shooed her son out of the room and brought the food to Sarah.

  "Thank you, my lady," Sarah said.

  "Eat now," Lady Marie said. "Then you shall have a bath, and then I think you should sleep, no?" Sarah nodded, already feeling the drowsiness that comes from tired muscles beside a warm fire. Lady Marie said, "I shall be in the next room only, washing your dress."

  "Thank you, my lady," Sarah murmured again. Then Lady Marie was gone, and Sarah turned to her supper.

  ***

  Sarah barely remembered the bath and didn't remember going to bed at all, but when Lady Marie woke her the next morning, Sarah found herself cocooned between a wonderfully soft bed and a thick layer of heavy blankets. Though she could feel the crispness of the May morning on her exposed cheeks, for the first time in months she was warm right down to the tips of her toes. She stretched once, then curled up again in her pocket of warmth.

  "My dear, I am so sorry, but you must get up now. Your breakfast is growing cold, and Piers is already getting the horses."

  Sarah climbed out of bed and the first thing sh
e saw was her blue dress, as shimmeringly beautiful as it had ever been, laid out on a chair. "Oh, my lady!" Sarah said with a gasp. "It's perfect again!"

  Lady Marie smiled with satisfaction. "It is a gown of the very finest. It was an honor to restore it to its glory." She helped Sarah put on her underdress and then the silk gown, still talking. "I thought to mend your old cloak as well, but I did not. I hope you are not offended, but it is that I thought you might be safer traveling in an old and ragged outer garment, so I brushed it only."

  "Yes, indeed, ma'am," Sarah said.

  "You will remove the cloak when you arrive at court, yes?"

  Lady Marie sounded almost anxious, and Sarah realized suddenly that she was speaking from her own professional pride as a lady-in-waiting. She would not send a lady from her care to the royal court looking anything less than her best. "Yes, ma'am," Sarah said meekly.

  Lady Marie nodded with satisfaction. "When I brushed your cloak," she said quietly, "a small bottle fell from the outer pocket. It seems to me to be of great value, and so I have returned it."

  "Thank you," Sarah whispered. Then, not knowing exactly why, she added, "It was my mother's."

  Sarah ate her breakfast quickly and, when she was done, put on her sword and cloak and hurried downstairs to where Piers was waiting. He helped Sarah onto a glossy, dark brown horse and then waited patiently while she settled herself in the odd saddle. She tried to sit the way she remembered Queen Guinevere doing as she rode, and after a moment found a position that was not too uncomfortable, although the sword hanging at her side was awkward. She turned back to Lady Marie. "Thank you, my lady, for all your care," Sarah said.

  "You will be safe with Piers," Lady Marie said calmly. "He is more clever than he sometimes appears."

  "Merci, Maman," Piers murmured, and then they were off.

  Sarah managed not to fall off the horse when they started, and by holding on grimly she was able to ride out the castle gate with some dignity. Piers said nothing for twenty minutes or so, but when they were out of sight of the castle he slowed and rode close to Sarah. She watched him apprehensively.

  "Don't be concerned," the tall young man said, smiling. "I've only come to ask a few questions." Sarah's lips tightened. "Questions that you may, of course, refuse to answer. But as we are to be riding together for the next two days, I thought it would be best for me to learn your name."

  "Sarah."

  "I am honored, Mistress Sarah," Piers said, bowing gallantly in his saddle. "And, if I may be so bold, I don't suppose you've ever been on a horse before."

  "I have too!" Piers raised his eyebrows slightly, and Sarah sighed. "But only on a cart horse pulling a wagon. I've never guided a horse or been on a saddle like this."

  Piers eyed her speculatively, but he said only, "Then we will probably make better time if you let me have the reins of your horse. I'll lead, and you can concentrate on staying in the saddle." Sarah nodded, and they were silent while this exchange was completed and Piers tied the reins of Sarah's mount to his own saddle. Then Piers cleared his throat gently. "As for staying in the saddle, Mistress Sarah, I suspect that you will find it easier to do without your sword hanging at your side."

  "Yes," Sarah said, conceding the point. "I can't find a comfortable way to adjust it."

  "I am very much afraid that ladies' saddles were not designed to accommodate swords," Piers said.

  Sarah nodded. "Like curtsies," she said.

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "It's hard to curtsy when you're holding a sword, too."

  Piers appeared to be struck by this. "Why, yes, I can see how that might be difficult."

  "I asked Sir Kai to show me how to do it, but he said I would have to figure it out myself."

  Piers's eyes gleamed with pleasure. "You asked Sir Kai to ... to teach you to curtsy?"

  "With a sword, yes. I know how to do it without one."

  Piers was silent for a moment, and when he spoke his voice was unsteady. "It seems a most useful skill. Perhaps when you figure it out, you can show Sir Kai how it's done so that he'll know as well."

  "If I see him again," Sarah said soberly.

  "Yes," Piers said, his tone serious again. "I gather that you gave your word not to tell anyone but Parsifal and Arthur about what happened to them, and so I will not ask again, but can you tell me how you came to meet them? And how Sir Kai came to give you that sword?"

  Sarah decided to ignore the first part of this question, as the answer might invite further questions as to why she was alone in the woods and where her parents were. She said, "It was supposed to be for his son, you know."

  "Yes," Piers said, nodding gravely.

  "But he said that his son was still young and that I'd probably need it before his son did."

  "For what purpose?"

  Sarah replied warily, "Don't you think that I might need one for protection on the journey to Camelot?" This wasn't a very good reply, Sarah knew, since she had already told Piers that Sir Kai had given her the sword before anything happened to send her on her journey. From Piers's furrowed brow, Sarah guessed he was about to point out this inconsistency, and she added quickly, "He said that someone ... I forget the name ... could make another one."

  "Trebuchet?" Piers asked.

  "That's it. Is that your father?" Piers nodded, and Sarah hurried on. "And you're his apprentice?"

  "Yes," Piers said.

  "But that seems very strange to me," Sarah commented, relieved to be talking about Piers instead of about herself. "I mean that you don't sound at all like a blacksmith. Anyone who heard you talk would think you were a great noble. You sound so polite and educated."

  "Ah, but my father is a great noble," Piers said. "In the land where he was born, a smith can be as great a noble as a knight. But as for my manner of speaking, you must remember that my mother is a lady-in-waiting. She taught me the manners and language of chivalry from birth. Indeed, when I was younger, I had thought to become a page."

  Sarah looked speculatively at Piers's broad, muscular shoulders. "You don't look very much like a page," she commented.

  "Yes. It is fortunate that I gave up that plan, isn't it?" Piers replied agreeably. "Now, that's my excuse. What's yours?"

  "My ... excuse?"

  "Yes, Mistress Sarah. You also speak with gentility and courtesy—except of course when threatening castle guards at the point of a sword—and you wear a dress of the finest silk. You already know how to curtsy—except not with a sword—and yet you've never ridden in a lady's saddle. You even admit that you have ridden a cart horse pulling a wagon, an undignified position that no young noblewoman would have ever consented to. You are quite puzzling, too, you know."

  Sarah chose her words with care. "I think ... I believe that my mother was an educated woman. It was she who taught me how to speak. But something happened when I was a baby and she was without a home. She would never say what happened, but it must have been bad. She told me that we were alone, without food or shelter, when Mor ... when a cloth peddler came by in his wagon. He took care of us, and we just stayed. He's the one who gave me the cloth for this dress. So you see, I just look genteel because of this silk. I'm not really noble at all." Piers shook his head slightly, but to Sarah's immense relief he asked no other prying questions, not all that long day on horseback, or the next.

  Sarah had expected traveling by horse to be easier than walking, but at the end of the first day her muscles ached horribly, not only in the obvious spots but also in places where she hadn't known she had muscles at all. By the end of the second day, Sarah felt that she would have given anything for the privilege of walking, but when Piers at last stopped his horse and said, "Nearly there, Mistress Sarah," she was able to summon the pride to sit straight and pretend that she had merely been for a trot around a park.

  Half an hour later Piers led her through the open gates of a majestic castle, made even more magnificent by pennons and banners and flags of all sorts, and made most splendid of all by t
he richly clad courtiers and ladies who flitted about like butterflies in a field of flowers. Sarah quickly removed the old cloak and draped it behind her saddle, near the place that she and Piers had finally found to secure her sword. She glanced at her dress, making sure that Lady Marie would approve, then moved her horse closer to Piers's. "How are we ever going to speak privately to King Arthur in all this throng?" she asked.

  "I've been wondering about that myself," Piers admitted. "Normally, we would go to the king's seneschal and request an audience."

  "Why don't we do that?"

  "The king's seneschal is Sir Kai," Piers replied.

  "Oh."

  "Someone must be acting in his place while he's away, but I don't know who. I think I know what to do, though. Hi! Hi there, boy!" Piers called suddenly, beckoning to a boy who was emptying a bucket of water outside the stables. The boy approached. "Boy, do you know Terence, Sir Gawain's squire?" The boy nodded, and Piers gave him a coin. "Could you find him and tell him that Piers is waiting for him here at the stables and needs to see him? Tell him that it's an urgent matter."

  The boy snatched the coin and raced away, and Sarah frowned. "A squire?"

  "You'll see," Piers said. "Come. Let us put up our horses while we wait." He took Sarah into the stables, found two stalls, and showed Sarah how to strip their gear from the horses and rub down their sweating sides. Sarah put her sword back on. It had long since occurred to her that among all the knights of Camelot she might very well find the knight of the fires.

  They were just finishing when a voice said, "Piers, how wonderful to see you again!"

  Sarah jumped. She had heard no one approach, but the voice came from barely three feet behind her. She whirled around, her hand on her sword's hilt, but Piers placed his hand on hers and said, "Terence. I'm glad you're at court. I didn't know who else to talk to."

  This squire, Terence, was a slim man in simply cut clothes. It was hard to tell how old he was—his triangular face had an ageless quality—but Sarah knew she had nothing to fear from him. She shook her hand free from Piers's restraining hold and released her sword. The squire bowed to her. "My lady," he said, smiling in welcome.