The Savage Damsel and the Dwarf

  Lynet did not hesitate. For reasons that she could not explain, she knew that she could neither lie nor hide from this man. "My name is Lynet, sir," she said softly.

  Lady Eileen stared, but Squire Terence only smiled with pleasure. "Of course. I have heard of you, my lady."

  "You have?" Lynet asked.

  "A friend was telling me about you the other day. He said you had great potential, and I see he was right. You have the look."

  Lady Eileen smiled brightly and said, "Splendid! I knew she was a right one! Terence, we need to rid her of a knight who's plaguing her castle. Have you heard from Gawain?"

  Terence shook his head. "Not in weeks. I suppose he's still looking for his two missing brothers."

  Lady Eileen frowned. "That's a nuisance. She needs a good knight, not a painted puppet."

  Terence turned toward Lynet. "I'll talk to Sir Kai. He's Arthur's seneschal, and he manages Camelot. He can arrange tomorrow's schedule so that you see the king early."

  "Thank you," Lynet said faintly. Terence bowed again.

  "And Terence," Lady Eileen added. "Don't mention her name, please."

  Terence smiled at Lady Eileen, then disappeared through the window in a single, fluid motion. "Who is he?" she breathed.

  "I told you," Lady Eileen replied. "He is Gawain's squire." Lynet shook her head, and Lady Eileen added, "You can trust him, you know. But you do know, don't you? He'll arrange things."

  If Lynet had been asked to describe a formidable knight, she would have described someone like Sir Kai. When Squire Terence introduced her to him the next morning, a sense of relief swept over her. Sir Kai had great brawny arms and an air of complete assurance. Though his black beard was flecked with gray, there was no comparison between this great warrior and the callow, half-hearted young knights Lynet had seen at the Knight's Sabbath. "This the lady?" Sir Kai growled at Squire Terence.

  Terence nodded to Sir Kai, smiled reassuringly at Lynet, then disappeared into the crowd. Sir Kai led her to a seat in the great hall, and then Lynet was free to gaze with awe at the splendor about her: men in bright clothes and long, curled shoes; women in silk dresses woven with gold and studded with gems; pages and squires bustling importantly; servants bearing trays; and, best of all, the great King Arthur himself, resting with comfortable dignity on a throne in the center of the hall. The king's beard was almost entirely gray, but his face was unlined, and his eyes were bright. He was chatting with a young knight at his side, but when Sir Kai stepped forward, the king turned his attention to the court and announced, "Let us begin. Kai, you seem to have lined up rather a long day for us."

  "Oh, ay, it's all my fault," grumbled Sir Kai.

  The king smiled affectionately at his seneschal and said, "Who is first?"

  Sir Kai began to lead the various suppliants before the king, and Lynet watched with interest and growing respect as the king questioned each as to his or her request. He was unfailingly courteous, both to noble and to peasant, but he was also firm. To the lady who demanded a knight to avenge the death of her husband, killed in combat, Arthur said, "I am sorry for your loss, my lady, but this court offers only justice, not vengeance." And for none of the lady's wails and moans and tears and vapors would he change his decision. Lynet was at once hopeful and apprehensive, unsure how this wise king would respond to her request. Suddenly, Sir Kai was before her.

  "My lady," said Sir Kai to Lynet. "What is your request?"

  Startled from her reverie, Lynet leaped to her feet. "Excuse me, your highness," she stammered. "I come on another's behalf, for a beautiful lady."

  "Not for your own sake?" asked the king.

  "No. At least, not entirely. But I too live at the Castle Per—the Castle Perilous, which is owned by this beautiful lady, and so I too am oppressed. This castle has been besieged for many weeks by a brutal knight who seeks to steal the lady's rich lands."

  "And this, ah, beautiful lady has no defender among her own family?" asked the king.

  Lynet thought wryly of her indolent Uncle Gringamore. "No, sire. She is an orphan, and she has never married." Sensing that this was her chance, Lynet added, "But she has said that she would marry the knight who delivered her from this oppression."

  The effect of this announcement was not what she expected. A low ripple of laughter spread around the court. The king's face was expressionless, but Sir Kai rolled his eyes eloquently. A slender man in an extravagant blouse of orange silk minced forward and bowed deeply. "I wonder," he lisped, "why this lady who is so beautiful and wealthy has not married before."

  Lynet felt her anger rising, but she answered politely. "I suppose it is because she has never met someone she cared to marry."

  The brightly clad man smirked back at her. "I see. Not because no one has ever asked, then?"

  Lynet looked around the room. Though there were many kindly faces among the onlookers, on every face she read disbelief. She remembered the conversation at the Knight's Sabbath, about the lady who must be ugly if her father was giving her away at a tournament, and even remembered Lady Eileen's polite skepticism about the "fairest damsel in England." Frustrated, Lynet turned back to the gaily dressed man. "Why, no," she said. "She received an offer last year, but the man who proposed wore an orange blouse and had little bells on his shoes. He was entirely ridiculous." The court grew suddenly silent, except for a stifled sound from Sir Kai. The man stepped backwards, as if he had been struck, and a tiny tinkling noise came from his feet. Sir Kai grunted again and turned his face, and Lynet added, "Well, you wouldn't have a lady marry someone with atrocious taste, would you?"

  The man blinked, then retorted, "I'll have you know that bells are all the rage right now!"

  "Oh, I'm so sorry," Lynet replied contritely. "I've never been to court before, and I was not aware that foolishness was in fashion here."

  The fashionable man's eyes bulged from his face, but before he could reply, the king interrupted. "Sir Griflet, you forget yourself. You spoke ungraciously to our guest, and you have been justly served." The king turned back to Lynet and, in an apologetic tone, said, "You must forgive my court's reluctance. This is not the first time that a lady has offered marriage in return for some deed, but really very few of my knights are currently seeking brides. It makes it awkward, you see."

  Lynet recognized the king's tact and was grateful for it, even as she despaired inwardly. Her only hope of getting a knight to come had been to entice him with her rich and beautiful sister, and now that had failed.

  King Arthur continued, "But perhaps one of my knights might undertake to assist your lady, provided that he need not marry her at the end. What is your lady's name, and where is her, ah, castle?"

  The question had come. Irrationally, Lynet wished that Roger were with her, willing her to be brave. The thought of the dwarf helped, and she took a deep breath and replied, "Sire, forgive me, but I cannot say."

  The king's face grew very still. "Cannot? Or will not?"

  Lynet would not lie to him. "I will not. Believe me, your highness, I have reasons."

  Though King Arthur did not change his expression, Lynet could see anger growing. "You are impudent, my lady," he said softly. "You have come to my court asking one of my knights to risk his life and honor for you, and you are unwilling to risk even your name? Why should I entrust a knight to one who will not trust us?" Lynet felt her hope slipping. The king concluded decidedly. "I will send no knight with you while you remain nameless."

  Lynet bowed her head. "Then I must look for help elsewhere," she said.

  A new voice broke into the silence that followed Lynet's statement. "Sire, I beg this adventure from you!

  Lynet looked up with relief to see which knight had volunteered, but it was no knight. Instead, the figure who stepped out of the crowd, vaguely familiar, looked like a menial servant. He was tall and seemed strong, but he was shaggy and bearded, and his clothes were grimy and greasy. He carried a tray supporting a bowl. Lynet recognized him as the kitchen servant who
had brought dinner to her in Lady Eileen's chambers. "You're joking," she said.

  "Beaumains?" asked the king, wonderingly.

  "Yes, your highness," the kitchen knave replied. The court burst into laughter, but the servant stood still.

  "I'm sorry, Beaumains," King Arthur said. "But to fight a knight is no task for you. I cannot—"

  "I am not afraid," the knave replied.

  "I am sure you are not," Arthur said soothingly, "but—"

  "My liege?" interrupted Sir Kai. "Why not?"

  The king looked sharply at Sir Kai and a surprised "Eh?" escaped him.

  "You had determined not to send any knight," Sir Kai said. "Surely it would be better to send Beaumains here than to send no one."

  "No, it would not!" exploded Lynet. "I would a hundred times rather you sent no one than send your kitchen help! Of all the insults!"

  The king glanced at her, and she read sympathy in his eyes, but he only turned to his brother. "Kai? What are you up to?"

  Sir Kai's face was impassive. "My lord, I know of no reason that a servant may not prove to be more than he seems. I myself, as your seneschal, am little more than an exalted servant."

  "You know better than that, Kai," said Arthur, but he was watching his brother's face intently.

  "No, sire," said Sir Kai. "If being a servant makes Beaumains unworthy, than so too am I!"

  Lynet interrupted. "I'll tell you what, your highness. Why don't you just let me have Sir Kai. I wouldn't be insulted then."

  King Arthur's lips twitched, but Sir Kai answered for him. "Quite impossible, my lady. But perhaps Beaumains is not so bad a choice for you after all. How do you know he is not a skilled fighter?"

  Lynet turned and glared at the tall kitchen knave. Suddenly angry, she snatched a walking stick from a nearby courtier and, brandishing it like a sword, snapped, "Let's see."

  She lunged forward, swinging the stick. The knave jumped quickly backwards, causing his tray to tilt. The bowl slid back and bounced off the tray, emptying its contents onto his chest. He yelped with surprise as the soup—fish soup, from the looks of it—soaked into his clothes, and he stumbled backwards, sitting down with a thump. In the hush that followed, Lynet strode back across the hall, returned the walking stick to its owner, then looked challengingly at Sir Kai.

  Sir Kai almost grinned. "Few of us could stand our ground before such a savage damsel," he said. "Let us hope that when Beaumains faces your knight he is not holding a bowl of soup."

  "You'll get this boy killed, Sir Kai," Lynet said softly. Sir Kai shook his head, but he did not answer. Lynet looked at the king. "I will be leaving your court at once, sire. Thank you for your hospitality."

  The kitchen knave struggled to his feet and stood, dripping into an aromatic puddle of soup. "And I will go with you, my lady!"

  Lynet cast him a look of disdain. "Oh, go clean yourself up, sapskull," she said. Chin high, Lynet walked out of the hall.

  IV. Questing

  Within the hour, Lynet was riding her mare out the main gates of Camelot, having paused only long enough to write a short note to Lady Eileen, thanking her for at least trying to help. At first she was angry, especially at Sir Kai and the presumptuous kitchen knave, but soon her indignation was replaced with gloom. What was she to do now? She had just begun to ponder that prickly question when she heard a drumming of hoof-beats behind her. Turning in her saddle, she recognized the kitchen knave, astride a fine white charger.

  "You!" she declared incredulously. "What are you doing here?"

  "I have come to deliver thy mistress from the knight who so persecuteth her," the knave replied.

  Lynet rolled her eyes heavenward and replied caustically, "I have a better idea. Why don't you deliver me from a dimwitted servant with foolish notions of greatness? And you'd better return that horse to the stables before its owner finds it gone and gives you a switching."

  "This horse is my own," he replied.

  "Poppycock!" Lynet snapped.

  The knave raised his eyebrows. "It is not meet that a lady should use such language."

  "No? How about this language? Go home, you cloth-headed ninny! Go back to your dishwater and swill buckets and leave me alone! I don't want your help, and I don't want your company." Lynet sniffed the suddenly pungent air and added, "Especially smelling like that! Have you never taken a bath? Ugh!"

  "You may say what you like, my lady, but I shall respond only with courtesy, like unto the model set for all men by the good knight Sir Lancelot," said the young man.

  Lynet leaned out from her saddle until her face was close to the kitchen boy's, which was not pleasant, inasmuch as the servant's clothes really did stink. Slowly and clearly, Lynet said, "Kitchen boy, you're stupid and you smell bad. Go away."

  Behind his greasy, uncut hair, the kitchen knave set his lips tightly and made no reply. But when Lynet booted her mare into a trot, he urged his horse forward beside her. Angry and frustrated, Lynet nevertheless realized that if this young fool wanted to ride with her, there was little she could do about it. She stopped again. Taking a deep breath, she turned in her saddle. "Look, I can't stop you from being a clodpole. You are as the Lord made you, I suppose. But do you think you could ride downwind?"

  "As you wish, my lady," he replied, moving to Lynet's other side.

  "And when we come to a stream, perhaps you could have a wash."" she added.

  "Yes, my lady. Which direction shall we ride?"

  Lynet sighed. "The castle is southwest."

  The knave frowned. "But, my lady, this is not southwest. We should be riding that way." He pointed to the left.

  Lynet hesitated. All the directional markers that Roger had taught her indicated that she was going the right way, but her confidence was not very high in this area, and muttering her grudging thanks, she turned her horse and let the knave lead the way.

  They had not gone far when Lynet again heard the sound of hoofbeats approaching from behind. She turned in her saddle and saw with surprise that it was Sir Kai, fully armored and leading a packhorse. Lashed to the horse's side were two long lances. Beside her, the kitchen knave took a sharp breath and stifled an indignant oath.

  "Good day, my lady, my boy," Sir Kai announced cheerfully, reining in beside them.

  "What are you doing here?" Lynet asked bluntly.

  Sir Kai grinned. "Ah, I was right. A savage damsel indeed. Don't attack me with a walking stick, will you?" He seemed much more pleasant than he had been at court, but his eyes still held a mocking light. "Bedivere can run the court while I'm gone," he added. "I thought I'd best bring you some armor and weapons. After all, if you left the court poorly supplied and got killed, they'd all blame me."

  "How thoughtful of you," remarked Lynet sarcastically.

  "Ay," Sir Kai said, with a knowing grin. "But that's the sort of chap I am. Here you go, Beaumains. A lovely suit of armor, fit for rescuing damsels and killing all manner of ogres. Try to keep it clean—cleaner than you keep yourself, I mean."

  Lynet was not sure if Sir Kai was deliberately provoking the kitchen boy, but whether he intended it or not, he was successful. The boy's eyes flashed, and without a word he dismounted and began to take the armor from the packhorse. While he began awkwardly to put the armor on, Sir Kai sat on his own horse, placidly watching. Lynet edged closer to Sir Kai and whispered urgently, "You'll get him killed, Sir Kai!"

  "I think not," he replied calmly.

  "No one would bother a wandering servant, but when he puts on that armor, any passing knight may challenge him."

  "I hope so. He'll need the practice if he's to defeat this knight that you want rid of."

  "You don't need practice to die," Lynet retorted, but Sir Kai only smiled.

  At last the kitchen knave had put the armor on. Lowering the helm over his head, he stood tall and loud / declared, "And now, Sir Kai, I challenge thee to mortal combat, for cause of all thy scorn! Thou art a recreant knight!"

  "Who, me?" Sir Kai said innocently.


  "Since my arrival at court, thou hast spared no pains to heap humiliation upon my person. It was thou who did call me upon scorn 'Beaumains.' And it was thou who set me to menial labors in the kitchens. I challenge thee upon thine honor!" The kitchen knave mounted, smoothly and quickly, despite the heavy armor. From the packhorse, he drew one of the lances. With a shrug, Sir Kai drew the other.

  "You're not actually going to joust with this smelly servant boy?" Lynet demanded incredulously. Sir Kai nodded. "Why? What do you have to prove?"

  "Didn't you hear, my Savage Damsel?" Sir Kai answered. "I'm a recreant knight. We recreant knights do this sort of thing."

  Lynet rolled her eyes helplessly. She could not believe that Sir Kai had actually taken offense at the knave's insults, but she had learned long ago that men were at their most incomprehensible when they thought they were defending their honor.

  The two riders took their places at the opposite ends of a field. Sir Kai gave a signal, and they rode toward each other. With a dull thud, then a crash of armor on armor, they came together. Both reeled in their saddles, and both horses reared, but it was Sir Kai who lost his grip and toppled from his horse's back. Lynet stared in amazement at Sir Kai's prone form, but before she could gallop forward to help him, he raised himself stiffly, removed his helm, and grinned at the armed knave above him. "Well hit, boy," he said.

  "In future, mayhaps thou'lt think twice before thou scornest a youth!" the kitchen boy said grandly.

  "I thought twice before I did it this time, lad," was all Sir Kai said.