The Squire's Tale

  "And you won't either, sir," Plogrun snapped. "I know that you tall 'uns mostly think we dwarfs are ugly, but it works the other way as well. The thought of a true dwarf taking up with a woman like that fair turns my blood cold, it does. I don't hold with marrying outside one's own kind, and I never did! If you ask my advice, sir, I say give her to the knight."

  "Well, that's what we'll have to do," Tor agreed. "She's beautiful; he's handsome. She's got style; he's got wealth. They could have been made for each other."

  "It hardly seems a question to me," Sir Marhault mused. "Master ... er ... Bigglesnog, how comes it that you love this lady?"

  "None of your business, poke-nose."

  Sir Marhault and Tor stared at the dwarf, then looked at each other.

  "I should have added that the lady is genteel and the knight has manners," Tor commented.

  "The dwarf is certainly doing his best to make this task easier," Sir Marhault agreed.

  "He's an ill-mannered boor, sir," Plogrun said, looking with disfavor on Bigglesnog.

  Gawain cleared his throat and said, "I assume that the point is to make the maiden happy?" Sir Marhault and Tor nodded. "Will you let me handle this, then?" The other two knights looked at him, a bit surprised, but after a second both nodded. Gawain rode a few steps closer and spoke to the lady. "Lady Dulphina? I bid you good day."

  "Good ... good day, sir knight." She faltered, looking at Gawain fearfully.

  "It must be terribly uncomfortable for you to be in the midst of all this contention," Gawain said pleasantly. Some of the fear in her eyes eased and she nodded vigorously. "Will you let me help you, my lady?" he asked.

  "Will you?" she asked in a small voice.

  "I will," Gawain said with a smile. "First, my lady, I vow to you that you shall be forced to marry no one against your will. Now, my lady, do you love one of these suitors?"

  "Oh yes, sir," she said.

  "Then go to the one whom you love, and you shall have him."

  Her eyes leaped joyfully, and she cried, "Oh, thank you, sir!" Without hesitation she turned to the dwarf and picked him up in her arms. They embraced ecstatically. Sir Edgar was aghast, and Sir Marhault, Tor, and Plogrun patently astonished. Gawain grinned and winked at Terence.

  "By all that's holy, Gawain!" Tor exclaimed. "How did you know—?"

  "I didn't, but I thought it my duty to protect the maiden's interests." A faint smile curled his lips as he turned back to the odd lovers and said, "Off with you now." Beaming happily, the lady and the dwarf mounted and rode away.

  Sir Edgar sputtered angrily and raised his sword toward Gawain, but Gawain ignored him. He touched Guingalet with his heel and trotted ahead, leaving Tor and Sir Marhault with the seething knight. Terence urged his horse forward beside his master. The sorrow was still in Gawain's face, but a new gleam lit his eyes.

  "Milord?"

  "Yes, Terence?"

  "Did it help?"

  Gawain understood perfectly. "Ay, lad. So long as I carry the burden of The Maiden's Knight, she's not so far away as I thought."

  They camped that night near a small clear pool beneath a little waterfall. After dinner, the knights sat around the fire talking. Plogrun leaned against a tree, smoked his pipe, and listened to the knights, but Terence felt oddly restless. After a few moments, he slipped into the woods. The moon was almost full, and in its gentle white glow even the darkest shadows seemed cheerful and comforting. Terence felt his restlessness ease out of him. With a satisfied smile, he sat on a rock next to the little pool and watched the stream tumble over itself then gurgle away.

  "Peaceful, eh?" a voice asked pleasantly. Terence was vaguely aware of a shadow moving to his left, but he did not turn. He knew Robin's voice by now. "Nothing like the water for peacefulness," Robin continued. "Nothing so strong as the ocean, so friendly as a stream, so exciting as a fountain. Now that you've been to the Other World, you've seen that, haven't you?"

  After a moment, Terence said, "We did cross through the water to get there. I will miss that world."

  "Ay, you've already seen that you and your master aren't quite at home in this world, at least not like before." Terence nodded slowly. "It'll only get stronger, too," Robin continued. "Soon you'll find yourself looking into people's eyes to see if they've been there. And once you find someone who has, you'll greet him as a long-lost friend and take him to your heart."

  Terence knew the faery was right. As much as he liked and admired people like Tor, he was closer to this unknown imp than he ever could be to Tor simply because Robin had been there. "But Robin," he said, "not everyone from the Other World is ... friendly."

  "Ay, my friend. There are the others. In fact, that's why I have come. I'm to tell you to be watchful." Then Terence knew that Robin was gone.

  The bushes behind his perch rustled, and Gawain stepped out. "There you are," he said simply.

  "Hello, milord," Terence said. Gawain stepped up next to Terence's rock and looked at the waterfall. Heavily and a bit clumsily, he put his hand on Terence's shoulder. "The others go to bed already, milord?" Terence asked.

  Gawain shook his head. "There was no bearing it any longer, lad. Swords and horses and lances and tournaments. Once I would have talked until dawn, but now—" He did not finish. They watched the water together. The shadows shifted as the moon rose, but the water stayed the same.

  "We'd better go back, milord, or they'll be wondering," Terence said at last.

  "They're wondering already, lad."

  "I know, but we needn't make it worse."

  Gawain nodded. He tightened his grip on Terence's shoulder once, then let go and turned away. Terence slid off his rock and fell into step behind his master.

  "Sir Gawain?" whispered a voice. Both turned around. Seated on a rock beneath the tumbling water was Nimue, her long black hair streaming around her. In the earth next to the rock, where Gawain had stood a moment before, a gleaming sword quivered. It was long and straight and cold-looking, and its black hilt was somber and unjeweled. Nimue smiled affectionately and spoke in a voice that was difficult to distinguish from the sound of the falling water. "It is yours, my lord. It is the Sword Galatine."

  "Why?" Gawain whispered.

  "It is all that I have to give to my mistress's beloved," she said. The waterfall engulfed her in its spray, and she seemed to dissolve into the little pool. Gawain drew his old sword from its scabbard and threw it into the pond; then he pulled the Sword Galatine cleanly from the earth. He slipped it into his scabbard, and without looking back he and Terence returned to their camp.

  12. The Enchantress

  Interesting news travels faster than knights on horseback, and when the three knights and two squires finally rode up the hill to Camelot, they found a crowd of courtiers and ladies and minstrels gathered to welcome them home. Across the courtyard, in a little pavilion, sat King Arthur and Queen Guinevere. The king stood and held out his hands in delight.

  "Sir Tor! Sir Gawain! Welcome back to Camelot!" he called. "The reports of your deeds have not ceased since you left! You have brought honor to my court!"

  Tor flushed deeply. All five of the travelers dismounted and knelt before King Arthur. Gawain said, "If that is so, then we are well pleased, my liege."

  "Stand up! Stand up!" Arthur protested. "I want to hear the rest of your tales—and to meet this noble knight you have brought with you."

  "This is Sir Marhault of Cornwall, sire," Gawain said, standing. "He is as skillful a knight as I have encountered and one of much compassion."

  "He is welcome!" the king said. "We have received a stream of most unusual messengers from you," he added, laughing, "bearing dead animals, live animals, heads bound in magical cords, and I forget the rest. Tonight we shall feast in the great hall where your quests began, and you shall tell us your tales."

  There were more greetings, more speeches, and more compliments, but at last Gawain and Terence were free to repair alone to Gawain's chambers and close the door behind them. T
he rooms were dusty and cold, but when Terence had lit a fire in the hearth, they were able to sprawl comfortably in two armchairs and relax.

  "It isn't really home here anymore," Gawain commented. "But at least here we can be away from the throng."

  Terence nodded, and the two friends sat in comfortable silence, their thoughts in a different world, for about half an hour. Then came two sharp raps at the door, and Sir Kai stepped into the room.

  "Gawain," Sir Kai said. He frowned slightly at Terence, and Terence remembered that at court squires did not sit in the presence of their masters. He stood quickly and moved to his squirely position behind Gawain's chair.

  "Come in, Kai," Gawain said. "Sit with us ... with me for a while."

  Sir Kai nodded curtly and moved to the chair Terence had vacated. Again he glanced at Terence. "I didn't know your woodsman would be with you," he said at last.

  Gawain smiled perfunctorily and said, "Didn't you?"

  Sir Kai scowled. "Do you trust him?"

  "With my life. More than once."

  "Can you trust him to hold his tongue, though?"

  Gawain looked up at Terence with laughter growing in his eyes. Terence grinned and looked down. "Yes," Gawain said simply.

  Sir Kai had not missed the exchange of looks. "Oh, ay, I see," he said. "You already have some secrets between you. All right, then." He took a breath. "I'm glad to have you back, Gawain. Arthur needs you." Gawain was silent. "And he trusts you. He needs more people to trust."

  "Are there so few?"

  Kai frowned, and after a moment said, "Less than few. Oh, I don't mean to say he's surrounded by traitors. Only by fools."

  "He has you and Merlin. Seems that should be—"

  Sir Kai interrupted. "Merlin's gone."

  Terence's head jerked up. "Merlin's gone already?" he exclaimed without thinking.

  Gawain and Sir Kai both stared at Terence. "Did you know he would be leaving, lad?" Gawain asked.

  "I ... I must have heard him mention it one time, milord," Terence said lamely.

  Gawain's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but Sir Kai grunted, "Ay, he may have. Arthur says he's known for some time that this was coming, but it's been a blow all the same."

  "Where did Merlin go?"

  "I don't know. He just announced one day that he'd done here, and he was off to take his rest. He walked out of the gates and met a lady—a faery beauty if I know anything—on a white horse. They rode away together."

  "A lady on a white horse?"

  "Never seen her like. Long black hair, white robes, green girdle. Half the fools of the court rode off after them to find out her name."

  "Did they?"

  "No. They followed her north to the lake lands and then the trail disappeared."

  "Ay, it would," Gawain said.

  "You know her?"

  "I think she's the Lady of the Lake," Gawain said, his eyes again meeting Terence's. Terence nodded. So Nimue had come to take Merlin home. It was as Ganscotter had said: the faeries never forget their own.

  "Hmm. It's what Arthur thought, too," Sir Kai said. "Arthur says he's glad for Merlin, but he misses him like the devil. He's lonely now."

  "Lonely? But he's just married," Gawain said gently.

  Sir Kai's lips curled. "Ay, Guinevere. She'll be no help to Arthur. She looks pretty enough in a wedding dress, and I'll grant she cares for Arthur, but she seems almost afraid to come near him. She can't help him like that."

  "It must be hard to be wife to a king," Gawain commented.

  "Not as hard as to be a king without friend or counselor," Sir Kai snapped.

  "He has you," Gawain said.

  "I'm no Merlin. Arthur's feeling the weight of ruling more. And it's changing him. He tires easily these days."

  "Arthur tired?" Gawain asked, surprised. "I've never seen that before. He seemed himself when he greeted us."

  "Ay," Sir Kai grunted. He stood to take his leave. "It did him that much good to see you again." He stopped by the door, as if he had something else to say, but at last he only scowled. "As I say. I'm glad you're back," he muttered, and left.

  ***

  At the banquet that night, Terence stood behind Gawain's chair at the head table, beside the king, and listened to Gawain recount their adventures. This was now the third time that he had heard Gawain tell the tale, but each time the story was different. Where Gawain had told the complete but simple and unadorned story to Ganscotter and a brief and very selective summary to Tor and Sir Marhault, this time he told the tale in flowing courtly language, filled with colorful descriptions of armor and costumes and often describing knights as "doughty warriors" or "passing good knights" or "villainous recreants." It all sounded very strange coming from Gawain, but he certainly made even very brief and humdrum events sound noble and inspiring. When Gawain told how he had killed Ablamor's wife, several ladies, including Queen Guinevere, looked appalled. Gawain himself was grim, and Arthur closed his eyes for a few moments, as if he shared Gawain's pain.

  Gawain did not tell everything, of course. As Terence expected, he left Nimue out of the story of Pelleas and Ettard, and though he told of being in a faery castle owned by a great enchanter, he did not give Ganscotter's name nor mention that the enchanter had a daughter. Burdens given in the Other World were not to be recounted merely for an evening's courtly entertainment.

  The king closed his eyes again, this time for longer, and Terence began to watch Arthur more closely. When the banquet had begun, the king had seemed as strong as ever, but as the evening wore on, he had grown more silent. When Gawain finished his tale, the king raised his hand and said, "Sir Gawain, you tell a tale of glory but also of regret. I honor your telling of it. Now," he said, "Sir Marhault will tell us of his adventures." Arthur gestured mildly toward Sir Marhault, and his hand knocked over a goblet, splashing the table and the queen's gown with wine. The king stood unsteadily, apologizing to Guinevere, and Terence suddenly saw how the king would look when he was old. Now he knew that something was wrong.

  Guinevere smiled reassuringly to Arthur, but there was concern in her eyes. Bridging the awkward pause in the festivities, Sir Marhault began his tale, but Terence was thinking furiously and did not hear. Ganscotter's description of The Enchantress had returned to him—"First she must remove the world's kings and princes"—and he remembered the woman in the fog saying that she would act after Merlin was gone. Terence began to fidget, wishing to be away, though he knew not where. Then, quietly and simply, the king lowered his chin and fainted onto the table in front of him.

  Knights and servants rushed to help him, and Terence backed away toward the door. He waited only long enough to hear someone say that Arthur was alive before he turned and ran. He leaped down the stairs to the great courtyard and ran to the stables. There, in a large corner stall, stood Guingalet, eyeing Terence suspiciously. Terence did not hesitate. Climbing over the stall, he threw a blanket on Guingalet's back and straightened it. The black horse reared and kicked, but Terence avoided the hooves and threw Gawain's saddle on Guingalet's back. Tightening the saddle took time, as Terence had to dodge the horse's teeth and heels, but at last it was in place. Terence was just grabbing a bridle, when Gawain's voice called out, "Terence!"

  Gawain stood in the open door of the stable. He still wore his feasting clothes, but he carried the Sword Galatine. "I have to go, milord," Terence gasped, trying to fit the bridle over Guingalet's tossing head. "And it may be far. My own horse may not make it."

  Gawain stepped forward and took the bridle roughly from Terence's hand. "Where, lad?"

  Terence shook his head. "I'll know it when I see it."

  "Is it for the king?" Gawain demanded. Terence nodded, and Gawain quickly caught the horse's head and slipped the bridle over it. "I'll go with you. Guingalet will carry us both."

  "I don't think you should," Terence said. "I ... may find something you won't like." Terence could not bring himself to tell Gawain about The Enchantress, particularly about his own susp
icions concerning her.

  "I'm sure I won't," Gawain said. "But you're not leaving without me all the same. What will you do if Guingalet throws you?"

  "Milord, please—"

  "No, Terence. I know that this is your task, beyond my strength. But let me go as your escort. When we arrive, I'll do what you say. I promise."

  With no time to argue, and secretly glad of Gawain's company, Terence agreed, and they climbed onto Guingalet. Terence sat in front of Gawain, almost on the horse's black neck, and Gawain held the reins. "Out the gates, milord," Terence said. "And then north, I think." Gawain began Guingalet at a fast trot, but Terence shook his head. "No, milord. Spring him."

  "We'll wear him out," Gawain warned.

  "I know, but we can't get where we're going by pacing ourselves. Top speed, milord."

  Gawain booted the horse into a dead run. Terence wound his fingers into Guingalet's thick mane and held on. Ahead loomed the black mass of the forest, and then they were into the shadows. Slim, leafless branches whipped and cut Terence's face, and Gawain shouted, "This is mad, Terence!" but still he urged Guingalet on. A repugnant feeling, like a smell of decay, began to grow in Terence's breast, and he aimed himself toward the source of the feeling. "Left, milord. To the left a hair. More. There! Now straight ahead, and faster!"

  The shadows leaped and danced around them as they careered over meadows and crashed through brush. Terence's heart pounded in time to the drumming of Guingalet's hooves. The sky was clouded and heavy, but here and there the clouds broke and let through a cold moonlight that silvered the trees and etched sharper shadows on their trunks. One moonlit copse, dappled with black shadows, looked to Terence like the face of his messenger friend Robin, but there was no mischief or merriment in the face's expression. A few hoofbeats and a heartbeat, and it was past.

  Time passed like time in a dream, sometimes an hour flitting by in a second, sometimes a single step lasting an age. "How much longer, Terence?" cried Gawain.

  "I don't know," Terence called back. "Into those hills ... no! That hill! With the treeless top!" Before them rose a small chain of rounded hills, mostly wooded, and at their very center was one hill taller than the rest, bald of tree cover. "The feeling is coming from there, I think."