The Ballad of Sir Dinadan

  The minstrel was terrible. He played only three or four different notes on his instrument, and after watching him for a few minutes Dinadan felt sure that those notes were all the musician knew. The tale that was being told was one that Dinadan had heard more than once from Thomas the Rhymer, about how Sir Gawain and Sir Tor had chased a white hart and a white hound into a forest filled with dark adventures. This minstrel told the tale wretchedly, all in a gruff, tuneless, sing-song, monotone that grated on Dinadan's nerves. A portly man in a spattered butcher's apron snorted nearby. "I've heard better," he commented, to no one in particular.

  "Oh, he's not so bad as all that," a woodsman beside him replied. "Remember that spindle-shanked chap who only knew two bleeding songs, and both of them little love ditties?"

  "Ay," the butcher said. "That fellow could play his instrument, though. This one's hacking at it like a sawyer at a board. Don't see myself giving more than a penny for this business."

  Unable to restrain himself, Dinadan said, "Don't give him a groat! He's awful! He's butchering that song worse than you'd butcher a hog!"

  Unfortunately this outburst, spoken too loudly to begin with, came just as the minstrel had finished his song and was taking a bow to the silent crowd. Dinadan's voice carried well, and it was clear that most of those present heard. The minstrel flushed and looked about for the speaker. Embarrassed but defiant, Dinadan met his eyes.

  "And why," the minstrel said angrily, "would you be taking bread from my mouth, child? Is it that you think you could do better?"

  It had not occurred to Dinadan until that moment that his disparaging remark, intended merely as a criticism of the man's artistry, might also hurt the man's livelihood. He reddened with sudden shame. It was too easy for a nobleman with a full money pouch to be scornful. Dinadan lifted his chin. "I could, friend, but I did not mean you harm." He swung his own rebec off his shoulder and gently pushed his way forward through the crowd. "I shall make you a bargain. I shall sing to this crowd, and you shall have all the money that I take in, save only enough to buy us both a pint at this alehouse. Is that fair enough?"

  The crowd laughingly called its approval, and the minstrel nodded curtly, folded his arms and prepared to listen. Dinadan tested the strings on his rebec, carefully tightened one, then cleared his throat. "Today, for your entertainment, dear lords and ladies—"

  The crowd laughed again, and Dinadan grinned. They were with him. He could feel their interest and attention. He looked out over the faces of the market-goers, and he knew as if by magic exactly what they were thinking, how they were feeling, and what exactly he should do to make this wonderful, mystical connection stronger and stronger. It was the most exhilarating feeling he had ever known, and he continued almost without conscious thought: "The Noble Tale of Sir Dinadan, a great knight from the land of the fens."

  "Never heard of him," called out a burly, disheveled fellow with a red nose.

  "Never heard of him?" Dinadan replied immediately. "Impossible! And you with the look of a royal courtier, too!"

  The crowd roared with delight, and even the red-nosed man grinned appreciatively. Dinadan strummed his rebec, waiting for the laughter to fade, and then began immediately on his new song. The magical sense of connection between him and his audience grew, and he began to improvise on the spot, adding new lines to almost every episode and two new stanzas describing the beauty of the doomed Lady Miriam. The marketplace grew quiet, and the crowd grew larger. Even a man on horseback passing through the square reined in to listen. When Dinadan described Sir Annui's evil plan to use Lady Miriam to steal land, there were growls of disapproval; when he sang of Sir Dinadan's mighty battle with the villain, men leaned forward intently and boys acted out battles with imaginary foes; and when he concluded with Lady Miriam's death, women (and some men) dabbed their eyes and sniffled. He finished with a long, quavering note from the rebec, then bowed his head.

  The crowd roared its approval, and copper and silver coins flew toward him from every side. Dinadan grinned delightedly at the applause, drinking it in like brandy, his heart full and his head light. The minstrel whom he had replaced stepped forward, awe and respect in his eyes as he clutched Dinadan's hand. "Beg pardon, sir, for doubting you."

  Dinadan grinned and waved at the coins. "Help yourself, friend."

  The man did, scrabbling eagerly in the dust, and when he had collected every penny, he looked up at Dinadan and said, "I'm not forgetting our bargain, sir. I'll buy you that pint now."

  The minstrel was not the only one who wanted to buy Dinadan a drink, but even better than the ale was the mutton chop and bread that the tavern owner gave him. Men gathered around him, talking in knowledgeable tones about the new hero, Sir Dinadan, and comparing him to various knights of great renown, including Sir Tristram. Dinadan enjoyed it all immensely. As he finished his meal, the alehouse grew suddenly quieter, and Dinadan looked up to see a tall young man in chain mail standing at the door. Dinadan recognized him as the man on horseback who had stopped to listen. The man saw Dinadan and strode across the room to join him.

  "You tell a rare tale," the young man said. "Especially for one so young."

  "Thank you," Dinadan said.

  "What is your name?" the man asked.

  Dinadan hesitated. It had not occurred to him until that moment that it might be awkward to introduce himself as Sir Dinadan. He chose at random the name of his father's steward. "My name is Stearnes."

  The young man sat down at Dinadan's table. "How comes it that one so gifted as you is not at a king's court?"

  "Perhaps I will be one day," Dinadan said evasively.

  "Well said, fellow!" the young man cried with delight, as if Dinadan had said something clever. "Why don't you ride with me, good Stearnes? For I go there!"

  "Go where?"

  "To Arthur's court at Camelot, of course, to be made a knight. My name is Culloch from a good Welsh family. You really ought to come to Camelot, you know. It's where all the greatest knights are, and any one of them would love to have a minstrel like you."

  Dinadan had thought about going to see the great court that King Arthur had established at Camelot, but aware of his own knightly shortcomings, he had not felt that he was quite ready for such company. Now he was presented with the opportunity to see all the sights of Camelot incognito, a wandering minstrel in the company of this brash young knight. Dinadan made his decision quickly. "Very well, Culloch. Let's go."

  Culloch smiled with pleasure, but did not move. "It is a long journey, good Stearnes. I must fortify myself." Culloch signaled to the tavern keeper, and Dinadan watched with growing awe as Culloch devoured a whole leg of lamb, an entire chicken, two loaves of bread, and a heavy pudding. If he could fight as well as he ate, he would have no trouble achieving knighthood.

  The trip to Camelot was uneventful, though marked with a great deal of idle chatter, none of which came from Dinadan. Culloch was bluff, good-humored, and unceasingly communicative. He talked in great detail about knightly deeds, seldom requiring any response but a polite "Oh?" or "You don't say!" Culloch enjoyed a joke and laughed as loudly when he told it for the tenth time as he had when he had told it first. He felt compelled to show everything in his knightly wardrobe to Dinadan and to explain what every bit of armor was, but to Dinadan's relief, never showed the slightest curiosity about the large blanket-wrapped bundle that was Dinadan's own armor. Culloch ate well, sang poorly but loudly, and drank as much as he could find. All of these Dinadan treated with amusement, or at least tolerance. The only thing that bothered Dinadan about his companion was his tendency, when Dinadan was performing "The Tale of Sir Dinadan" in the various alehouses where they stopped, to call out "This is a good part!" at key moments or to interrupt with such comments as "You did it different last time!"

  The two companions took their time but eventually arrived at Camelot. There, they were welcomed by the guards, who evidently had instructions to permit all wandering knights to enter, and they were shown to cramped
but serviceable quarters where they could wait until the young king was able to see them. Dinadan hoped to encounter Sir Gawain, who all agreed was King Arthur's greatest knight, but Sir Gawain was away on a quest. Dinadan would have to be content with seeing the great Sir Kai, King Arthur's foster brother, who was also the king's seneschal.

  On their very first night in the castle, Culloch and Dinadan were in their room, discussing the court, when there was a knock at the door. They opened the door to see a tall man with a neat brown beard and a brilliant chain around his neck. "Excuse my interruption," the man said politely, "but are you the two knights who arrived this morning?"

  Culloch answered immediately. "We did get here this morning, but it's only one knight. Me. But I'm not actually a knight yet."

  The man looked surprised. "Only one knight?"

  "That's right. This is my minstrel, Stearnes."

  Dinadan glanced sharply at Culloch. Nothing had ever been said about Dinadan being his minstrel. The tall man looked curiously at Dinadan, then back at Culloch. "Then whose horse is the big sorrel?" he asked.

  "That's mine," Dinadan said calmly. He met the man's eyes, which crinkled at the edges in what could have been either suspicion or amusement. If this man knew what color Dinadan's horse was, then he probably knew about the armor that was in that horse's pack.

  "I beg your pardon, both," the man said, bowing. "I am Sir Bedivere, and I've come to ask you to accompany me. The king is holding court this evening, and he wishes to hear your business." Culloch leaped to his feet, but Dinadan hesitated. "Both of you are invited," Sir Bedivere said with a smile.

  Dinadan had long wanted to see the great King Arthur who, according to the tales, had risen to power by the magic of Merlin but who had managed to unite the splintered and warring land of England by some magic of his own. At first Dinadan was vaguely disappointed by the ordinary figure of the king—slender beside the mountainous forms of some of his knights, plain beside the gaily colored figures of his courtiers—but as he watched the king conduct business, his regard grew. The king was gentle but never soft, compassionate but never yielding, quiet but always clear. He dealt first with mundane matters, such as disputes between landlords and tenants, but at last the king leaned back on his throne and said with a sigh of relief, "Now, Bed-ivere, did you not say we had some here requesting knighthood and fellowship at our Round Table?"

  Culloch leaped to his feet and said, "Here, Sire!"

  It was a breach of courtly etiquette, as even Dinadan knew, but the king only smiled and waved him forward. "What is your name, my friend?"

  "I am Culloch of Wales, Your Highness, son of Sir Gwynet of the Crags."

  "And you ask that I knight you?"

  "Yes, Sire. It is my dearest wish to be a knight of your Round Table and to take my place with the greatest knights of all. I want to go on quest for your court, to prove myself against your enemies."

  The king nodded graciously and said, "It is good to have great plans. What have you done already?"

  "Sire?"

  "It is the custom of this court to grant knighthood only to those who have already proven themselves worthy. Have you helped the helpless? Rescued any in need? Righted any wrong?"

  Culloch's mouth opened slightly with amazement. "Not ... not yet. I thought I should be made knight first ... my father said..." His voice trailed off.

  "Your father may be forgiven for not knowing the customs of this court," Arthur said gently. "It is a new idea, earning knighthood by deed instead of by parentage. I cannot knight you now, but be assured that once you have set about your career and proven yourself in knightly deeds, I shall be happy to receive you and hear your request again."

  Culloch looked so downcast as he made his way back to his seat, that Dinadan could not help feeling sorry for him. Sir Bedivere must have felt the same, for he stood and said, "Sire?"

  Arthur glanced at the knight. "Yes, Bedivere?"

  "This youth seems a likely lad. I have no doubt that he will do great deeds, if only he is directed well."

  Arthur grinned. "Don't tell me. You'd like permission to go with him and guide him."

  Sir Bedivere smiled back. A huge man with a black beard, who had stood beside the king throughout the evening, rolled his eyes and groaned. "Don't be an ass, Bedivere," the man said. "How many times do I have to tell you that you can't take in every stray puppy that—"

  "But what if the stray turns into a fine hound, Kai?" Bedivere asked, grinning.

  Dinadan looked at the large man more closely. So this was Sir Kai, Arthur's foster brother and one of the heroes of Arthur's wars. "And what if he doesn't?" Sir Kai retorted.

  Sir Bedivere's smile only grew, and he turned to Culloch. "What do you say, Culloch? Would you like some company on your quest?"

  Culloch's expression cleared. "You'll come with me until I earn knighthood? Really?"

  "I vow it," Sir Bedivere said solemnly. "Until you gain it or stop seeking it."

  "Oh, ye gods!" Sir Kai said with a moan. "Why did you have to vow it? I'faith, I know not which is softer, your heart or your head. I can just see you spending your life hunting dragons for someone else to slay."

  "I can think of worse ways to live," Sir Bedivere replied quietly. "Surely the greatest fool is the one who only seeks his own glory."

  Sir Kai snorted. "We'll see." Sir Kai turned abruptly to the king. "Arthur, I ask your leave to accompany my idiot cousin."

  Sir Bedivere's eyes lit with delight, and Dinadan realized that these two knights were, in fact, the closest of friends. "And would you deprive me of two of my greatest knights at once?" Arthur asked. Sir Bedivere smiled, and Sir Kai shrugged. "Ah, well, if I am deprived, I am deprived. You may both go."

  "Hooray!" crowed Culloch. "I'm going questing with Sir Kai and Sir Bedivere!"

  Arthur shook his head slowly, still half smiling. "And I hope they both know what they're doing. Now, before you leave me to become knightly mentors, is there no other business? Bedivere, I thought you said there were two knights."

  Sir Bedivere turned his eyes toward Dinadan. "I may have been mistaken, but I don't think so. Would you come here please, friend?" Swallowing, Dinadan rose and took a position beside Sir Bedivere. "I am told that this youth is a minstrel, but I would like to hear it from his own lips. Sir, are you a minstrel? Or a knight?"

  Dinadan could not lie. "I ... I am a knight, Your Highness."

  "Already made knight?" the king asked. "Or one who seeks knighthood."

  Dinadan flushed slightly at the memory of his knighting, but he said evenly, "I was knighted by my father." He stole a quick glance at Culloch, who was gazing at him with open-mouthed amazement.

  "And what is your name, friend?" asked the king.

  "It's Dina—I mean, Sir Dinadan."

  There was a mild commotion in the throne room as knights and ladies and courtiers whispered to each other excitedly. King Arthur lifted one eyebrow. "Sir Dinadan who killed Sir Annui?"

  Dinadan blinked. "Well, yes, but how did you hear about that?"

  "The tale was sung to us by a wandering minstrel at our dinner just yesternight. A great victory, indeed."

  Dinadan was torn between pleasure that his own song was already being sung by other minstrels and embarrassment that his own embellishments of the truth must have also been repeated. He cleared his throat. "I've ... I've heard the song myself, Sire, and the truth of the matter is not quite so impressive as the story."

  "It never is," the king replied with a smile. "But are the essentials true? Was this Sir Annui seeking to steal lands from one Sir Edmund?" Dinadan nodded. "And did you discover the plot and face him?" Nod. "And did he draw a sword on you and you slay him?"

  "I was lucky, Sire."

  "It is often so," Arthur said, laughing softly but with an expression of approval in his eyes. "Finally, did the Lady Miriam kill herself?"

  "Well, yes, but it wasn't quite as dramatic as I made it—as the song makes it sound."

  "What is a tal
e for but to make the facts better?" asked the king. "You have saved a good man from oppression, faced his oppressor, a knight older than yourself, and slain him. Furthermore, you conduct yourself with commendable humility—and honesty. You have done a deed worthy of a fellow of the Round Table. Sir Dinadan, do you wish to join my fellowship?"

  Dinadan met the king's eyes, and although he knew he did not deserve the honor he was offered, he could not refuse. "Yes, Sire. I wish to serve you in whatever way I can."

  "Then kneel, Sir Dinadan." The king drew his splendid sword, Excalibur, and lightly touched Dinadan's shoulder. "Rise, Sir Dinadan, and welcome to the Fellowship of the Round Table. Be ever true to your God; protect always your neighbor; honor always your king."

  III Two Tales of Sir Marhault

  They rode away together the next morning, the four of them. Culloch went to earn knighthood, Sir Bedivere went to help him, Sir Kai went to help Sir Bedivere, and Dinadan went along for the ride. For two hours after leaving Camelot, Culloch could talk of nothing but of how Dinadan had concealed his knighthood. To Dinadan's relief, Culloch was not offended but took the whole thing as a colossal joke. Nevertheless, by the time Culloch had laughed at the masquerade for the hundredth time, Dinadan could almost wish Culloch had gotten angry. Then at least he might have been quiet, like the other two knights.

  Dinadan stole a glance at Sir Bedivere and Sir Kai, riding beside him. After the throne room council the night before, Dinadan had asked a few discreet questions and discovered that Sir Bedivere was nothing less than the king's first cousin. He had been Arthur's childhood friend and the king's first knight after Sir Kai. He had distinguished himself in Arthur's wars and was one of the king's most trusted advisors. As for Sir Kai, everyone knew about Arthur's foster brother—of his fierce pride, his fierceness in battle, and his fierce loyalty to Arthur. Dinadan grinned to himself. Fierce seemed to be the word to describe Sir Kai.