Keepers of the Western Forest

by Chris Kennedy

  Chapter 4

   

  Listlessly, Darin rode on through the tangled forest. It would be impossible now to realize his plans. No longer could he introduce himself proudly at court as the son of the king’s faithful knight and friend—not with this horrifying secret. He must keep his vow, as his mother had kept hers. Ah, but Etaine’s oath had been sworn out of love, while his was born of fear and shame!

  The sun was still high, but evening would be coming in two or three hours. Darin had eaten nothing all day, so when he came to a clearing, he dismounted and sat down under a tree with his bag of provisions. He opened his visor and took a few bites of one of the pasties his mother had made him, but soon gave up. Thinking it might give him courage, he took out the flask of wine and raised it to his lips.

  Suddenly, he heard singing. He had barely enough time to slam his visor shut and scramble to his feet before a horse and rider emerged from the forest at the far side of the clearing. It was a young man dressed in a mail hauberk like Darin’s, but with a breastplate over it of polished steel. The visor of his plumed helmet was open, revealing an honest, cheerful face. A single green stag was emblazoned on his shield.

  It was too late for Darin to slip away and hide in the forest; the newcomer had seen him.

  The young knight’s song died on his lips. “Greetings, noble sir!” he called out. “I pray you, what is your name? And will you not show your face to me, that I may greet you in all courtesy?”

  Darin tried to speak, but no words would come. The smile on the knight’s face was gone, to be replaced by a stern and haughty frown.

  “Sir Knight! What means this silence? I am Broderic, a knight of King Arthur’s court. And know this—any man who rides armed in the forest so near to Camelot and refuses to declare himself or show his face must have ado with me!” He seized his long spear.

  Still tongue-tied, Darin leapt into his saddle, heart beating wildly. There was no escaping this. He took his spear and dressed his shield on his left arm.

  “Have at you then!” cried Broderic. He levelled his lance and spurred his steed into a charge.

  Darin urged Dart forward to meet his opponent, aiming his spear as best he could, and they clashed together in the middle of the clearing. Darin’s lance hit the outer edge of the other’s shield and was easily deflected, but a blow from the knight’s spear to the middle of his own round buckler almost winded him. He remained in his saddle only with the greatest difficulty as the two riders rushed by each other.

  At the other side of the clearing, the Knight of the Stag was poised for a second charge. Darin turned Dart’s head to face him and, as he did so, a sudden instinct told him to lean back in his saddle, carefully levelling his lance and aiming for the middle of the oncoming knight’s breastplate. Then, just as the two were about to meet again, he stood up in his stirrups, bending forward from the waist and thrusting with his spear. The blow landed a split second before Broderic would have expected it, sending him tumbling to the ground.

  Darin turned his horse and came back to the middle of the glade. What must he do next? He felt no desire to cause further hurt to the knight lying dazed on the ground. How should a true knight behave?

  Broderic now struggled to his feet and put his hand on the pommel of the sword at his side. “Sir Knight,” he said. “You joust well, and I am fairly thrown. I beg you now, speak to me, that we may end this quarrel. For if you do not, then I must draw my sword and fight on and great harm will surely come to one of us.”

  He takes me for a knight, thought Darin; I must try to speak like one. “Fair Sir,” he replied, finding his voice at last. “I have no quarrel with you, nor do I ride in my noble Lord Arthur’s forest with any treachery in mind. But I am young and untried. I have sworn a solemn oath not to reveal my face or parentage to any man until I have won some honour for myself.”

  Broderic seemed satisfied with these words. He took his hand from his sword and pushed up his visor. “Then, Sir, I will respect your vow!” he said in a more friendly tone. “And if it’s honour you are hoping to win, then you are here at the right time. The day after tomorrow will be the first day of May and a great tournament is to be held at Camelot. Young knights are come from all parts of the realm to join those of Arthur’s court in the jousting and the prize, which is awarded each year by our beauteous Queen Guinevere, is greatly coveted. What say you, will you be there?”

  “I will, Sir!”

  “Well, then,” Broderic said when he had mounted his horse again, “no one shall hinder you further. And know this, I am accounted a passing good jouster myself, so I shall warn the company to expect stiff competition from the Knight with the Closed Visor!” He waved a hand in farewell and rode back into the forest.

  Darin fastened Dart’s reins to the branch of a tree and got out his provisions again. He sat down, opened his visor and attacked the pasties and wine with rather more gusto than before. When he was finished, a sudden weariness fell over him. Laying his shield on the ground for a pillow, he stretched himself out fully armed and closed his eyes.

  Broderic had given him something to think about, something to help him forget that grotesque creature in the rock pool.