"My fault! Well of all the poisonous cats! I'm not the one who sent Malchance off with a bug in his bottom. If you ask me, you don't know what you want, sister."
Lady Obie responded by bursting into tears.
The fight in the meadow seemed to be less confusing than it had been a few minutes before, and Piers realized that Malchance's "knights" were sneaking off and riding away in groups of two and three. Before the battle had gone half an hour, there were only a score of knights left on their feet, and most of those were the knights with Sir Gawain. Piers saw Malchance approach Sir Gawain, waving his sword. Sir Gawain nodded and dismounted, and the other knights backed away. Evidently they had decided to settle matters with single combat.
"I hope my fishmonger doesn't get hurt," young Obilot commented.
"Shut up, I tell you!" Obie snapped.
"Sir knight!" called Duke Lyppaut from the wall. "I'll give you a hundredweight of Roman gold if you promise not to hurt Malchance!"
Then the two knights fought. Even to Piers it was clear that Sir Gawain was never in any danger, although Malchance certainly attacked with great vigor. At last, Sir Gawain knocked Malchance to the ground, stepped on his sword, and then pointed his own sword at Malchance's throat. Malchance yielded.
All the knights walked slowly back across the field toward the castle, just as Duke Lyppaut and his daughters stepped out of the gates. Malchance, who had led the way, fell to his knees before Lady Obie. "You were right, Obie. I'm only a child. I'm not worthy of you."
"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Sir Gawain said bracingly. "You fought well out there, and most important, you kept getting back up when I knocked you down. Best thing you could do."
"But you should never have knocked me down to start with."
"Oh, there's no shame in that. Everyone can take a fall. Even those of us from the Round Table."
Malchance looked up. "You're with the Round Table?" he asked.
"That's right. My name's Gawain."
In the hush that followed, only one voice spoke. "I guess that means you're not a fishmonger, doesn't it?" said Obilot.
Sir Gawain grinned, but turned his attention to Malchance. "So you see, you fought a famous knight, and you did well. I think you've proven yourself now. Perhaps the Lady Obie will consent to your request now."
Then, to everyone's surprise, Duke Lyppaut interrupted. "No, I say! She can't marry him!"
"What?" asked a dozen voices at once.
"How can I give my daughter to the man who attacked her family? No, no. It is impossible." Duke Lyppaut turned an ingratiating smile on Sir Gawain and continued. "It is much more fitting that she should marry her rescuer. Sir Gawain, I believe I've never heard that you were married."
Piers looked sharply at Sir Gawain, who was passing his hand over his eyes. Terence moaned softly, and Malchance and Obie looked at each other, aghast.
"No!" said young Obilot suddenly. "He can't marry Obie. After all, he fought for me. If he is to marry anyone, it should be me!" Now everyone turned their astonishment toward Obilot, but Piers did not miss the quick wink that Obilot gave to Sir Gawain.
Sir Gawain chuckled and knelt at Obilot's feet. "As you wish, my lady," he said.
"Wait just a minute, here!" came a new voice. It was the squire that Terence had met on the trail, Brevard. "You can't marry him, Obilot!"
"Why not, Brevard?" she asked.
"Well, you're ... you're too young. And you might still meet someone you like more."
"Like who, Brevard?" Obilot said demurely.
"Well ... like me."
Obilot smiled at Sir Gawain and shrugged. "Sorry, Sir Gawain," she said.
Piers was growing more and more confused, and from the faces around him he was sure that others felt the same way. Fortunately, at that moment, Obilot stepped into the center of the circle of onlookers and raised her hand. "All right, now, let's finish this. Father, you are ambitious and silly. Sir Gawain doesn't want to marry either of us, and so he shan't. Malchance and Obie, you are very boring, always fighting in public. I wish you would just go get married so you could fight in private. And as for you, Brevard, we shall talk of this further." And with a wave of her diminutive hand she dismissed the crowd.
Rising to his feet, Sir Gawain bowed and kissed Obilot's hand. "My lady, it has been a great pleasure, a very great pleasure, to meet you. Keep them in hand, will you?"
Then he mounted his black horse, turned his head back toward the woods, and he and Terence and Piers rode away. "Milord?" Terence said, as they crested a hill.
"Yes, lad?"
"Let's try to the northwest."
"Why?"
"I was just talking with Astor. He says that there's a red knight in Wales who's been winning all sorts of battles."
VII. Questing
They rode toward Wales, leaving the fields and plains and then climbing wooded hills. Piers was still often startled by the casual manners that Sir Gawain and his squire used with each other, as if they were equals, but as time went on he began to lapse into the same familiar manner. At the knight's insistence, Piers even stopped using the full title Sir Gawain, and began calling him simply Gawain.
It would have been hard to stay too formal, anyway, given the division of duties in their camps. Everyone pitched in and did part of the work, and no task was considered below anyone. Terence did all the hunting and cooking, and Gawain cleaned and oiled his own armor—a squire's task if there ever was one. After the first day, Piers took over caring for the horses. Gawain's black horse sometimes snapped at him and always watched Piers suspiciously, but Piers was used to fidgety horses. He had often held horses while his father shod them.
"You seem to be good with horses, Piers," Gawain commented. "Guingalet there doesn't usually let strangers curry him."
Piers was pleased, but said only, "I've never been afraid of horses."
"Nothing wrong with being afraid of Guingalet," Terence remarked. "He's half devil. He's a bit calmer these days, but when he was young, no one could get close to him but Gawain."
"Shush," Gawain said. "You'll hurt his feelings." He glanced fondly at his horse. "Don't listen to him, old fellow. I know you're as nasty as ever."
They rode into the Welsh hills, still heading north, meeting no one that they could ask about a red knight. On the third day, though, Piers felt a growing excitement. The woods around him looked the same as always, but now he had an odd sense of expectation. At midafternoon they came upon a castle in the woods. Gawain drew up at the edge of the forest. "What do you think, Terence?"
"I don't know, milord. Have you been feeling it, too?"
"Ay, something not natural in the air."
"Not bad, though," Terence added. "Just... uncanny. Why don't you and Piers go and ask after the red knight, while I scout around outside?"
Gawain nodded, and Terence slipped soundlessly from his saddle and seemed to melt into the forest. "Come on, Piers," Gawain said.
They rode into the cleared area before the castle, where a trail of smoke rose from a sturdy stone cottage outside the gates. As they drew near, a rough-looking man stepped out and raised his hand in silent greeting.
"Hello," Sir Gawain called. "Is this castle inhabited?"
"Ay," the man said. "What do you want?" Gawain raised his eyebrows, and the man smiled ruefully. "Didn't mean to be rude. We get few visitors. My name's Waleis, and I'm the reeve here—and chief gamekeeper and steward and if the master were a bit more grand, I'd be called the seneschal too. If you need anything, you may as well ask me first, because you'll get sent back out to me anyway."
Gawain nodded. "We're looking for a red knight that we've heard has been in these parts. Have you any word of him?"
Waleis shook his head. "Nay. You're the first outsider to stop here in near six months."
"I see," Gawain said. "Then perhaps, since the day is closing, your master would allow us to stay the night in his castle. It would be pleasant to sleep in a bed again."
Waleis
nodded. "No harm in that. And the mistress will be glad of the company." Waleis bit his lip and frowned, as if he had more to say, and Gawain waited. Waleis said, "I suppose I'd best just tell you. The master's a bit odd. Never quite got over the old master's death—his father, you know. Keeps to himself mostly."
"Oh? If it would be better for us not to stay—"
"Nay, that's not what I meant. I only wanted to warn you that you may see the master and you may not. In any case, his sister will make you welcome. You'll come to no harm inside."
Gawain nodded. "Thank you, friend. My squire is on the trail behind us and may come up at any time. If he arrives, would you send him in please?"
Waleis acknowledged Gawain's request with a careless wave and then went back inside his cottage. Gawain and Piers rode through the open castle gates into the courtyard.
Two ladies stood in the courtyard, washing clothes in a large tub and talking, but when they saw Gawain they dropped everything and ran with a shriek into the castle keep. "What do you think's wrong with them?" Gawain asked. "Usually kitchen maids aren't so excitable."
"They weren't kitchen maids," Piers said confidently. "Their gowns were too fine. Those were ladies-in-waiting." Gawain looked at Piers with amusement, and Piers explained, "My mother was a lady-in-waiting, too. Those ladies probably ran inside because they didn't want a knight to see them doing menial work."
Gawain pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I see. The reeve did say they weren't used to company. So now I suppose they'll braid each other's hair and sprinkle themselves with eau de toilette before coming out again. Shall we put up the horses while we wait?" Piers grinned and nodded.
Forty minutes later, their horses long since stabled and fed, the mistress of the castle came sweeping into the yard, dressed in a dazzling red gown. "Sir knight!" the lady trilled. "I am so sorry that you had to wait! My foolish women only just now told me that a knight had come to call, and I threw down my stitchery and came at once!" Piers rolled his eyes, but discreetly. As if anyone ever wore such a gown for a quiet day at home doing needlework.
"It is of no matter," Gawain said, bowing graciously. "To see such beauty would well reward even a much longer wait."
The lady blushed and tittered and said that she could see she'd have to watch herself with such a wickedly gallant knight and some other stuff like that. She introduced herself as the Lady Antigone, and then paused, clearly waiting for Gawain to give his name in return, but Gawain only bowed again, said that he was enchanted, and asked if her name was Greek.
"Why, yes, it is! Fancy you recognizing that! I don't think I've ever known anyone else who knew that. I don't know what it means, of course, but my father named all his children after people in old books."
"Ah, a learned man, then?"
Lady Antigone hesitated, then nodded. "Well, yes, I suppose you would say that, but really you mustn't think ill of him. Why, he was so handsome and brave that no one would ever have suspected that he was bookish!"
Gawain continued smiling, but his smile seemed forced now. "You mistake me, my lady. I meant no disrespect. I understand that even King Arthur reads Greek."
Lady Antigone's lips parted in surprise. "You don't say! Well, it only goes to show that even the great ones have their peculiarities."
"Quite so," replied Gawain, sighing softly.
"Well, you'll find better entertainment in this house, I can assure you! Why, we'll have a great banquet tonight! Matilde, Gwen, show this knight and his boy with the charming hat to the best bed chambers to dress for dinner!"
And so, a few minutes later, Piers and Gawain found themselves alone in a well-furnished but dusty bedroom. "Whew!" Gawain said. "No wonder they have few visitors here. What a gabble-monger! I suppose it's too late to slip out the back way."
Piers took off his scarlet hat, frowning slightly. Gawain and Terence wore such plain, simple clothes on the trail that Piers had begun to feel self-conscious about his bright headwear. To have the hat complimented by the overdressed Lady Antigone had only increased his doubts. He helped Gawain remove his armor.
"I wonder what I should do with my sword," Gawain mused. "I never know, when I'm dining at a stranger's home, if I should wear it to dinner as a precaution or trust in the laws of hospitality."
Piers did not reply. Two weeks ago, with Parsifal, he was full of advice, most of it wrong. This time he would venture no opinion. At last Gawain threw the sword on the bed. "I suppose I'm in no danger from Lady Prattles."
But when they at last went to dine with Lady Antigone, Piers was not so sure. There was more than one kind of danger after all, and Antigone was surely setting her own sort of traps for Gawain. The "great banquet" that she had promised turned out to be a cozy dinner for two in a candlelit parlor. There were two long chaises at the table, one on each side, but when Gawain sat in one, Lady Antigone joined him, sitting almost in his lap. As soon as the meal had been served, she dismissed her two ladies in waiting and suggested that Gawain could send his boy away, too.
"Oh, I couldn't," Gawain replied promptly. "Piers is so useful that I would be lost without him. In fact, step closer, Piers."
Piers came nearer, while Lady Antigone pursed her lips pettishly. "May I serve your plate, sir knight? You know, it really is silly of me to keep saying 'sir knight.' What is your name?"
"What is a name anyway, my lady?" Gawain replied, edging away from her. "It is only a monument to one's ancestors. I prefer to be known by my deeds than by my name."
"Oh!" Lady Antigone purred. "A man of action."
Gawain stood abruptly and walked around the room. "Very nice parlor this is," he said.
"It is very comfortable, Sir Man of Action, but you do not appear to be relaxed. Come sit beside me and I will give you a morsel of food."
"I'm not all that hungry after all," Gawain said. "How about ... how about a game of chess?" He strode across the room to an old chess table by the window. The chessmen were large and looked heavy.
"That was my father's game," Lady Antigone said. "He tried to teach me, but I never liked it."
"Of course not," Gawain said resignedly. He walked back to the table, sitting on the chaise across from his hostess. "Would you ... would you like some chicken?"
"Oh, sir knight," Lady Antigone said, lifting her chin to show off a very white throat, "I can't tell you how long I have waited for such a moment as this!"
"I can see why," Gawain said, taking a bite. "This chicken's excellent. Really, I must congratulate your cook. How does he get it so tender?"
"Oh, hang the chicken!"
"Is that how it's done?" Gawain asked. "I must tell my own cook to try that."
"I'm not talking about the chicken!" Lady Antigone exclaimed. "I'm talking about you and I!"
"You and me," Gawain said. "Not you and I. Use the accusative case."
"I do not want to accuse you, O knight. I want to love you." She started around the table.
"Ah, then you'll want the optative, I think," Gawain replied, starting around the table the other way. "But I was never good at that one."
"Sir knight!" she said dramatically. "I love you! Kiss me!"
Gawain never had to reply, for at that moment a fully armed knight burst into the room waving a sword. "Has it come to this?" the knight bellowed. "Was it not enough that you killed my father, but now you must seduce my sister!"
"Virgil!" Lady Antigone shrieked. "What are you doing?"
"I have come for to slay this knight, for he is the man who slew my noble father Sir Kingrisin!"
"Daddy died of the ague!" Lady Antigone said.
"Nay, but this man is the murderer! Stand and fight!"
Gawain had moved to keep the table between him and the knight and now he spoke. "As you see, my friend, I am unarmed."
"So too was my father when he died!" the knight exclaimed.
"He's right, there," admitted Lady Antigone, nodding as if her brother had made a good point. "Daddy died in bed, you see."
"I am so
rry that your father died," Gawain said steadily. "But I did not kill him. Nor have I seduced your sister."
Lady Antigone stepped in front of her brother and said, "There, see? Now be good and leave us alone."
"That shall I not, thou strumpet!" the knight shouted. He tried to push his sister out of his way, but she clung to his armored arm.
"Please, Virgil! I hate this place! I hate living here all alone with no visitors! Please don't ruin everything!" The knight, Sir Virgil, tried to shake his sister off, but she only clung more tightly to his arm, and for the next several moments the night was filled with the shouting of the brother and shrieking of the sister. Gawain kept the table between himself and the fray.
Piers, ignored by the others, had slipped into the shadows by the window and now began to look desperately about for some weapon he could give Gawain. There was nothing. Then his eyes fell on the chessboard beside him, and he lifted one of the rooks. It was even heavier than he'd expected. Solid lead, he decided, weighing it in his hand. He took up the heaviest one he could find. The white king.
"This murderer has bewitched you, woman!" shouted the knight, in a frenzy. "And for that he must die!"
He swung his sword down on the table, which split into two halves, sending chicken fragments flying. The knight stepped over the rubble toward Gawain, and Piers threw the white king with all his might. It was a good shot, right at eye level, and might have even dented the knight's helm had it not bounced instead off of the Lady Antigone's forehead. She stopped screaming, made a sound sort of like "Gloop," and sat down heavily on the floor amid the splinters and bits of chicken.
"Sorry," Piers said. Lady Antigone closed her eyes and lay down peacefully.
"King to Queen Two," Gawain said.
The knight, who had stopped his advance momentarily, looked up from his sister's prone form and raised his sword again. Piers began grabbing more men from the table and throwing them as fast as he could. Most missed, but a black bishop hit the knight full in the visor, and several pawns bounced off his armor. Gawain leaped backwards toward Piers and swept up the whole chess table in his hand, holding it like a shield. "Stay behind me," he hissed to Piers.
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