"My goodness," the king said. "You're right! Even the queen has adopted the shepherdess fashion. I shall have to see about a new robe—"
"These are bloodstains!" Sir Meliagant declared.
Sarah stiffened and peeked at Jean. Charis stared at her plate and seemed to shrink. If Sir Meliagant had found the bloodstains from Jean's wound on the queen's blanket, did that mean he had discovered their visit the night before?
"Dear me," King Bagdemagus said. "Shouldn't her maid have dealt with that? No need for you to carry the laundry about, dear boy."
"Do you not understand, Father?" Sarah had seen Sir Meliagant angry before—in fact, she had hardly seen him anything except angry—but she had seen nothing like this uncontrollable rage. "This is Sir Kai's blood!"
Sarah blinked, then stared at Sir Meliagant. "Sir Kai?" the king said weakly.
"Yes! Sir Kai is wounded. Last night, he came to the queen's bed, and they disported themselves with lust! Here is the proof! His wound bled on her sheets, but they did not see it. She has betrayed me with Sir Kai!"
King Bagdemagus's eyes widened, as he finally understood, but a slight frown creased his forehead. "Betrayed King Arthur, you mean, don't you?"
Sir Meliagant clamped his mouth closed and fumed for a second, then said, "Yes, of course. She has betrayed the king. And for that she must die! I shall have a gallows built at once."
Jean spoke for the first time since Sir Meliagant entered. "Is she not to have a trial?"
"What need is there of a trial? Here is the proof!"
"Why, to hear her side of the story, of course."
"A woman's testimony! Bah!"
"Sir Kai might testify as well," Jean pointed out.
"It would be his word against mine, and of course he would lie! There will be no trial..." Sir Meliagant trailed off, and a cunning sneer spread on his face. "Unless Kai wished to challenge my word in a trial by combat!"
"Trial by combat?" Jean repeated.
"Yes, of course. The old law says that when a case comes down to the testimony of two opposing witnesses, then the matter may be decided by single combat. Yes, that would be fine."
"That law," Jean said, "also allows for a champion to step in, does it not?"
"Yes, I believe it does," Bagdemagus said, nodding. "I remember that."
Sir Meliagant scowled. "And you would take Sir Kai's place in this combat? No! I would never demean myself so as to fight an unnamed knight for the queen's honor!"
"Oh, I have a name," Jean said, imperturbably. "I am called Sir Lancelot."
X
The Wounded Land
Sir Meliagant turned pale with anger—and, Sarah thought, with fear—but he had no chance to reply. King Bagdemagus, upon hearing Jean's name, leaped to his feet with delight and rushed to embrace him, chattering like a magpie about how delighted he was to have such a distinguished guest and how sorry he was not to have recognized him at once, what with Lancelot's beard and new style of dress, and did Lancelot remember that time at the annual ball when they had both worn clothes of the same shade of crimson and had made everyone else jealous and so on.
Sir Meliagant watched his father fawn over Jean for a while, then spoke. "Very well, indeed, Sir Lancelot," he said, with only the fire in his eyes betraying his hatred. "We are delighted to have you with us. Shall we set our combat for one week from today?"
"Yes, yes!" exclaimed King Bagdemagus. "It will be just like the tournaments at Camelot! Do you think we should send invitations to other knights as well?"
"No, Father," Sir Meliagant replied. "A trial by combat is between two people only."
"Very well," the king said, sighing regretfully. "It sounds a shabby affair, though. I shall have to decorate the hall! Shall we have it in the Crimson Room, do you think?"
"Wherever you wish, Father. But I see that Sir Lancelot is weary still from his days of travel. He should go back to his room to rest."
"Oh, yes, quite," replied the king. "And I must go put on my shepherd's clothes!"
"Your what?" Sir Meliagant said, momentarily diverted.
"My shepherd's clothes, of course. It's all the crack in Camelot, you know. But I can see you don't. You've never been quite as au courant as I, have you?"
Sir Meliagant shrugged. "Put on whatever you want, Father, but by all means go back to your room now. I shall deal with matters here."
"Oh, Father!" Char is said suddenly. "Do you know what I've just discovered? The Lady Sarah here, Sir Lancelot's companion, is a lady-in-waiting! You know that I've been wanting to have my own lady-in-waiting! Do say I can have her? Please?" Sarah turned to stare at Charis, aghast at the simple-minded tone that Charis adopted whenever she spoke in Sir Meliagant's presence and offended at being spoken of as if she were a puppy Char is had found.
"But of course, my dear," King Bagdemagus said. "You're quite old enough now for a lady attendant. How delightful for you! Meliagant, will you send for the royal seamstress? I must have some new clothes made at once. And Sir Lancelot? I shall look forward to seeing you at dinner!"
Then they all separated. Jean was taken away by the guards, presumably back to his cell; King Bagdemagus returned to his own chambers; and Sarah and Charis went to Charis's rooms, where Charis immediately barred the door.
"How can you do that?" Sarah asked as soon as they were locked in the room.
"Do what?"
"Act so brainless! Talk in that silly little-girl voice! Aren't you embarrassed?"
Charis reddened. "Sometimes. You have to understand that I don't like it, but it's the only way I can get anything. My father does whatever Meliagant says, and Meliagant has no thought for a mere female. Acting as he expects me to act is my only tool. If I stood up to him, he'd just be angry, and I'd accomplish nothing."
"Have you ever tried?"
Charis scowled. "You've seen my brother! How do you think he'd respond to a rebellious female?"
Sarah nodded. "I see what you mean, of course. But I just ... it just seems so ... so shifty—to get what you want by pretending to be dumber than you are."
Charis colored again, but she replied only, "You should be glad I did. If I hadn't, you'd be on your way back to your cell, like Sir Lancelot."
Sarah couldn't argue with that. "I suppose we ought to set about getting him free and then rescuing the queen and Sir Kai. Your brother gave us a whole week to figure something out."
"Yes," Charis said. "I wonder why he did that. It's not like him at all to wait for anything. I wonder what he's up to."
"Whatever it is, let's not wait with him," Sarah said decisively. "How soon can we go set Je—Sir Lancelot free?"
Charis thought a moment. "I'll wander around the halls and see what I can learn. You stay here with the door barred. No point in reminding Meliagant that you're not in his prison. When I come back, I'll knock four times, two fast and two slow, all right?"
Sarah nodded, appreciatively comparing the decisive young lady who stood before her, weaving plans against her brother, to the timid, trembling girl who had opened her door the previous night. Maybe, she reflected, it wouldn't be so long before they found out what Sir Meliagant would do to a rebellious female. Jean had been right: here was one who would stand fast.
Sarah had plenty of time to reflect on Charis's transformation, because the princess was gone for hours. Sarah paced and sat, sat and paced, and worried. She worried about Jean—what if Sir Meliagant simply had him killed?—and about Charis, wandering the castle and perhaps being caught listening to what was not intended for her. Then, for good measure, she worried about Sir Kai and Queen Guinevere and about Ariel, who must still be anxiously awaiting them across the gorge. Sarah wondered how it had happened that she suddenly had so many people to worry about. It seemed to her that caring about other people's well-being was very fatiguing and a great nuisance, but she supposed it was too late to go back now.
At last there came a knock at the door—rap-rap, rap, rap—and Sarah threw aside the heavy wooden bar for Charis to come i
n. "About time," she said.
"Sorry," Charis replied, entering. "I brought food." She put down a sack and they barred the door again.
"What did you find out?" Sarah demanded.
"I couldn't get to Sir Lancelot," she said. "There are guards placed all up and down the hall where you were last night. I suppose that's a good sign, though. I thought Meliagant might just have him executed, but even Meliagant wouldn't be so afraid of him that he would guard his corpse."
"He was afraid of Jean ... of Sir Lancelot, wasn't he?"
Charis nodded with satisfaction. "When Sir Lancelot revealed his name, I thought my dear brother was going to swoon. I've never seen him turn that color before." Then her smile faded. "I couldn't get to the dungeons, either. There are now guards at the dungeon stairs. I waited to see when they changed guards, but so far they haven't."
"So what are we going to do?" Sarah asked.
But Charis had no ideas. Sarah wanted to retrieve the sword she had hidden in her cell, but Charis said that at least four of Jean's guards were stationed in view of that door. The two girls stayed in Charis's room all day, discussing the problem, and all they could think to do was to check that night to see if there were fewer guards after dark.
They couldn't avoid dinner, however. Charis joined her father and brother at the banquet table each night, and, since Sarah was now a lady-in-waiting, she had to be there as well. Sarah hesitated, but Charis assured her that Meliagant never paid any attention to mere females. At first, it seemed that Charis was right. They arrived at the banquet hall at the same moment as Sir Meliagant, but he hardly even glanced in their direction, staring past them at the astounding sight of his father in full, "courtly" shepherd's costume.
"What foolishness is this?" Sir Meliagant demanded.
"Is it not the most precious pastoral garb?" his father replied delightedly. "I don't know when I've had so much fun as I had this afternoon with Tuttle and my seamstress." Here the king nodded at an embarrassed-looking gentleman beside him, evidently his personal valet. "It was Turtle's idea to sew a silk lining inside the sackcloth, which I'm most grateful for. Horribly scratchy, that stuff is. Wonder how real shepherds endure it? At least ... real shepherds do wear sackcloth, don't they?"
"I haven't any idea," Sir Meliagant said curtly.
The king's brow cleared. "Well, I think it looks fine, don't you?" The king turned around so that everyone could see his new clothes. They were indeed ridiculous, an impossible combination of coarsely woven wool and fine silk, ragged tears and precious gems, cracked leather and luxurious ermine. He even carried a real shepherd's crook, and he could not have looked more foolish if he had been trying.
"Dashed nonsense!" Sir Meliagant snapped, and for once Sarah agreed with him.
The king looked pained, although not so pained as his wretched valet. "No, no," Bagdemagus said. "I assure you, it's what everyone is wearing at court. Lancelot said so! I say, where is Lancelot?"
"He's indisposed, and won't be here," Sir Meliagant said, turning away from the king and taking his place at the table. The rest joined him, and the meal began.
Through most of the meal, Sarah stood correctly behind Charis's chair, helping to serve her "lady" and hating it, but it seemed that acting meek and docile worked: Sir Meliagant hardly looked her way. King Bagdemagus continued prattling about his new clothes and twice managed to knock his own wine goblet over with his shepherd's staff. "Bless me," he announced jovially after the second time this happened. "I do wonder why shepherds carry these things anyway! They must be forever knocking over their crystal! And what do they do with them when they're on horseback or in carriages, I wonder?"
Sarah could only stare, and even the brittle-tongued Sir Meliagant seemed unable to reply adequately to such an inane statement. It didn't matter. The king was chattering as much to himself as to anyone else and did not require a response.
At last the meal was over, and when the king rose to leave, Charis, who had been waiting, followed at once. "Just a moment, dear sister," Sir Meliagant said.
Charis stopped, her smile frozen on her face. "Yes?"
"I'd like a word with you." Sir Meliagant's eyes were on the king's retreating form.
"Very well," Charis said brightly. "Sarah, you go back to my room and wait for me, all right?"
"But it is not all right," Sir Meliagant said smoothly. At that moment, the door closed behind King Bagdemagus, and Sir Meliagant's smile faded into a sneer. He jerked his head at the guards, who pointed their spears at Sarah. "It is with your new lady-in-waiting that I would like to speak." Reaching into his robe, Meliagant produced Sarah's crystal bottle. "My guards say that they took this from you. What is it?"
"It's ... it's nothing," Sarah said lamely.
"I am not, I believe, a fool," Sir Meliagant said. "Nothing but a magic cordial would be kept in such a bottle. But you are not, I'd swear, a sorceress. Come, girl! What is it, and how did you come by it!" He stepped forward menacingly.
"It's for my complexion," Sarah replied, remembering her talk with Adrian the Pardoner.
Sir Meliagant ignored her. "It is not a poison," he said thoughtfully. "I know because I gave some to my father's detestable little lap dog, and nothing happened. Pity. But I can see that you need to be persuaded." He nodded to one of his guards, who stood nearby. "Raven? Cut off her left hand, please."
Charis laughed brightly. "Oh, what a clever joke, dear brother! But you mustn't frighten my poor lady-in-waiting. She doesn't know your little pleasantries as I do! Why, she might think you were serious! And Sarah! You naughty puss! Do you really have a lotion for clearing the complexion? Why, how clever of you! You must let me try some!" Charis giggled.
Sarah kept her lips tightly closed and watched Sir Meliagant's face. Only by a fleeting expression of irritation did he show that he had even heard his sister's artless prattle. He jerked his head toward Sarah, and the guard he had spoken to drew his sword and approached her.
"Why, Meliagant! I declare! You're taking this joke right to the end, aren't you?" Charis's laughter was brittle and forced now, but she pressed on doggedly. "How I shall tease you about this later! But Sarah, I've just remembered that I left my scarf on the floor of my room. Run off and get it for me, won't you?"
Sarah saw from the corner of her eye that the guard with the sword had stepped quickly to one side, to get between her and the door, but Sarah kept her eyes on Sir Meliagant and didn't move. Sir Meliagant said calmly, "Actually, Raven, why don't you first see my beloved sister out of the room? Then bar the door and return to me."
"Yes, my prince," the guard said. He took a firm step toward Charis.
"If you take another step, Captain Raven," Charis said in a very different voice, "I shall be forced to tell my father about the two loyal guards whom you murdered while they were on guard duty. I shall also tell what you did to their wives afterward. He will have your head, you know. I will insist on it."
The captain froze, staring at Charis, and even Sir Meliagant seemed taken aback. "Well, well, dear sister. You appear to have been listening more than I was aware. I wonder what else you know." Charis was silent, and Sir Meliagant said, "Have I underestimated you?"
Sarah spoke. "All right, Sir Meliagant. I'll tell you what the vial contains." She paused, waiting until every eye was on her. "It isn't really mine, anyway. It belongs to Sir Lancelot. He thought you wouldn't search a woman."
Sir Meliagant smiled. "I thought as much. And where did he get it?"
Sarah chose a name at random. "From the Lady of the Lake."
Sir Meliagant's smile disappeared, and his eyes widened. "So. The Lady was right. All right, child. What does the cordial do?"
Sarah thought furiously. The name of the Lady of the Lake seemed to have struck a chord in Sir Meliagant. Now she had to think of something else he would believe but that he couldn't confirm by testing it on a lap dog. "The potion ... doubles your skill with a sword."
Sir Meliagant searched Sarah's eyes, then smile
d. "You may even be telling the truth. We shall see. Raven, conduct them to their room."
***
The light had been gone for at least three hours before Sarah and Charis dared open their door and look out. At various times during the long evening, they had heard voices outside their door, and they halfway expected to find a guard posted there, but the hall was empty. Charis closed the door behind them, then led the way down the dark passages of Logres Castle.
They had decided not to bring candles with them—with more guards in the halls there was too much risk of a light or a shadow being seen—but Charis did not hesitate, even in the paralyzing fog of absolute blackness. "Here," she said. "This is where I hid the keys last night." Sarah heard a faint clink of iron on iron, then felt the tug of Charis's hand. "We'll check the dungeon first," she said. "It's nearest."
She led Sarah to a winding stairway, and they descended into even blacker darkness. Charis moved on the stairs as lightly as a sure-footed mountain creature. Sarah was not so agile, however, and by the time they reached the bottom of the stairs she had several new scrapes and bruises on her legs and elbows. "All right, you'll need to watch your step now" was Charis's only comment. "This stair comes out in a recess in the wall near the dungeons, and if there's a guard, we don't want him to hear you banging into things."
Sarah started to retort that she hadn't intended to bang into things, but at that moment Charis squeezed her hand tightly, and then Sarah heard it, too: voices. Both girls froze and flattened themselves against the stone wall.
"Is the guard gone yet?" hissed a woman's voice.
Sir Meliagant's unmistakable voice replied, but without its usual arrogance. "I sent him to watch the prisoners at the bottom of the stairs," he said. "He won't hear us."
"Good," replied the woman. "I am very nearly displeased with you, Meliagant. How could you let an outsider into this castle?"
"I'm very sorry, Lady," Sir Meliagant said. "But you did promise that no one would be able to cross the Sword Bridge."
"Silence!" Then, a moment later, "Nevertheless, I should be most curious to know how any man could have done so. But this is not just any man. How did Lancelot find out about the queen's capture?"
The Princess, the Crone, and the Dung-Cart Knight Page 16
