"Terence," he said. Immediately he wished he had given a false name, but it was too late.
The Lady Eileen's eyes widened. "So that's it," she said, with dawning understanding. "That new knight that my uncle brought in is Sir Gawain of the Round Table, and you're his squire!"
"Sir Who?" Terence asked, feigning bewilderment.
"Don't be an ass," the Lady Eileen said shortly. "Everyone here has heard about Sir Gawain and his squire Terence and how Sir Gawain defeated the great Sir Oneas of the Crossroads and about his mighty battle with the Huntsman of Anglesey and the new shrine of Our Lady of Anglesey."
"You've heard that already?" Terence said, caught off balance. "But it's just been two days—" He stopped abruptly.
Eileen continued, nodding to herself. "So last night you were looking for the dungeons. Did you find them?" Terence nodded. "I won't give you away," she said finally. "And I hope you free him." She turned sharply and left the stable.
"Lady Eileen?" Terence said. She stopped, and Terence said, "Thank you." She nodded curtly. "And Lady Eileen? Don't eat your dinner tonight. I'm working in the kitchens, you see."
Terence spent an exhausting but profitable day in the kitchens. The cook cursed and beat him, but he gathered some valuable information. He learned that Gawain was to be executed on Good Friday, that the marquis had a notoriously delicate digestion (trust Robin to know that), and that the marquis's dinner was to end with a bland and spongy kidney pie. When the cook stepped out of the kitchen for a minute, it was a simple matter for Terence to empty half the packet of yellow powder that Robin had given him into the kidney pie and then cover it with the top crust. The rest of the powder he poured into a large plum pudding that the cook had left him stirring.
Soon after the kidney pie was sent to the marquis's table, there was a commotion from the dining hall, and some guards came to take the cook to the marquis. Terence gathered his bow and arrows, grabbed a handful of candles, and slipped away into the maze of halls he had explored the night before. He found a secluded corner and settled down to wait for the yellow powder to have its full effect.
"Terence!" a voice whispered urgently, and something poked Terence—not gently—in the ribs. He jerked and there was the Lady Eileen standing over him holding a lamp. "Wake up."
Terence realized that he had been asleep. "What time is it?" he asked quickly.
"Just after three. What did you put in the food tonight? Everyone who ate at our table is groaning as if they were about to die." She paused, then asked, "Are they?"
"About to die?" Lady Eileen nodded. Terence shook his head doubtfully and said, "I don't know."
"I hope they do," she said fiercely. "They sawed a knight in half last Christmas. I heard them laughing about it. What are you going to do now?"
Terence found himself telling the Lady Eileen his plans. It didn't take long. When he had finished, she said, "That's it? You're going to give this other powder to the guards and put them to sleep. How?"
"I don't know," Terence admitted.
Lady Eileen thought briefly. "What you need is a bottle of wine. That's what the guards will swallow fastest."
"But where will I get a bottle of—?"
"Come with me." Lady Eileen grabbed Terence's hand and led him quickly through the halls to a bedchamber with a fire roaring in the fireplace. "Here," she said, digging into a chest full of clothes, "put these on over your clothes"—she held up an old grey dress and a red wool shawl—"and go down to the dungeons with this bottle."
"I'm not going to wear that!"
"If you go down in your own clothes, they'll probably kill you on sight," she said briskly. "Here, you'll need a corset to give you the right shape."
Terence felt himself being swept along helplessly and resented Lady Eileen's imperious planning, but after protesting once or twice more, for form's sake, he agreed. It took several minutes to dress, mostly to get the corset tightened. Soon, though, Terence was awkwardly descending the dungeon steps, the bottle in one hand and the hem of his dress in the other.
"Who goes there?" a gruff voice asked.
"Is this the Lady Eileen's room?" Terence asked in a quavering falsetto. "Oh, dear, I must be lost, and Lady Eileen waiting for this wine."
"Hey, fellows!" the gruff voice said. "It's a woman! And she has wine!"
Terence gave a flustered squawk and fell over backwards, gently setting the bottle of wine on the stone floor. Then he picked up his skirts and ran back up the stairs as fast as he could. Behind him he heard the guard laugh raucously and call out that the wench had dropped her wine. Ten minutes later, still in his feminine disguise, Terence peeked around the corner. Three guards lay sprawled in an untidy heap on the floor, breathing deeply and evenly.
"Milord!" Terence called out.
"Terence?" Gawain's muffled voice came from the end of a dark passageway.
"Wait there, milord!" Terence hurried down the hall and drew the bolt on the last door. Scruffy and stained but uninjured, Gawain stepped out.
"Very fetching," Gawain said. "The grey dress brings out your eyes."
Terence ignored him. "Here," he said, handing Gawain a lamp and stripping off the dress and shawl. "Stop laughing like a half-wit and help me with this corset. Are there any other prisoners here?"
"Nay, lad. I'm the only one. Just in time for the Good Friday feast, too. Everyone seems to think it's a stroke of luck. How did you get into this thing? I thought it was hard to put on armor!"
When Terence at last stood free of his disguise, he led Gawain back up the stairs. "The horses and our gear are in a stable just outside. If we can saddle them without being seen, we can charge right through the main gate."
"My armor? And the Sword Galatine?" Gawain asked.
Terence shook his head. Gawain stopped at the top of the stairway. "Then let's go find them. Do you know your way around this castle?"
"Milord, do you know what they plan to do to you?" Terence pleaded.
"They mentioned crucifixion," Gawain said. "Good Friday, you know. Where would be a good place to look for the armor?"
Terence knew that tone and gave up. "Follow me," he said and led Gawain back to Lady Eileen's bedchamber.
She answered the door at Terence's second knock. "What are you doing back here?" she asked, ushering them into the room. "Good evening, Sir Gawain."
"Who is this, Terence?" Gawain demanded. "I never told anyone my name."
"Why aren't you at the stables already?" Lady Eileen asked.
"Sir Gawain won't leave without his armor," Terence said to Lady Eileen.
Her eyes flashed angrily. "Well, he's a domnoddy, then!"
"Don't tell me!" Terence protested. "Tell him! And he's not either a domnoddy!"
"Pardon me, my lady—" Gawain began.
"Don't use that tone of voice with me, kitchen boy!" Lady Eileen snapped.
"I'm not a kitchen boy. I'm a squire."
"Well, you're still somebody's servant."
"Not yours, thank heaven," Terence retorted.
"Pardon me, my lady," Gawain said again. "But if you live in this castle, perhaps you can tell me where I might find my armor and sword."
"My uncle keeps all the armor he captures in his treasure room, and the only entrance to the treasure room is in his chamber."
"Her uncle is the marquis," Terence explained.
"And where is your uncle's chamber?" Gawain asked.
"You're not going to try to get it back!" she exclaimed.
"But of course. It's mine, you see."
"Men are such idiots!" she said, rolling her eyes.
"Just tell him where it is," Terence said. "He won't leave until you do."
"At the end of this hall is another hall. You take the turning on the ... on the..." she hesitated uncertainly.
"Oh for heaven's sake, why can't women ever tell their left from their right?" Terence moaned. He gestured with his right then his left hand. "Is it this way or that way?"
"Be quiet, kitc
hen boy. It's this way—right. My uncle's chamber is at the end of that second hall."
"Thank you, my lady," Gawain bowed. "You wait for me here, Terence."
Before Terence could protest, Gawain was gone, running lightly down the hall. Terence looked at Lady Eileen, shrugged, and said, "Sorry. Do you mind if I sit down?"
"I don't see how I can stop you," she replied ungraciously. Terence sat. For a few seconds neither spoke, then Lady Eileen said, "I hope he kills him. I do. I do."
"Kills your uncle?"
"Yes. He's a fiend!" she said.
"True. But why aren't you like him? Growing up with him here and all."
"I didn't grow up here! My father was the marquis's younger brother, and a good man. When he died, six months ago, I came here to live with my uncle. I didn't know what he was like."
"And he took you in?"
Lady Eileen nodded. "And all my inheritance. Oh, I do hope Sir Gawain kills him."
Gawain was gone longer than expected. It was fully twenty minutes later before he walked proudly into the room wearing his armor and carrying a sword in each hand. "Sorry I was so long, Terence, but I took a few minutes choosing a good sword for you from the stock there. This looks like a fine blade."
Terence passed his hands over his eyes in anguish. "Milord, you tried to dress yourself, didn't you?"
Lady Eileen said, "You spent time in there choosing a sword for Terence?"
"What's wrong?" Gawain asked Terence. "I thought I suited up pretty well for being in the dark."
"What does a squire need with a sword?" Lady Eileen demanded.
"It's a miracle it didn't drop off you in the hallway," Terence moaned.
"Let me tell you, my lad, that I put on my armor myself for years before I met you."
"And it's a mystery to us all that you're still alive, I'm sure." Terence nodded. "Now you've got your armor back, I just hope you don't lose it."
"A bit loose is all," Gawain said. "I couldn't reach all the ties. You should sympathize, Terence. I'm sure you have the same trouble with your corset."
Lady Eileen laughed and said, "You should have seen his face when I tied that on, Sir Gawain."
"Oh, are you the one who helped him? But of course you are. I'm afraid I've forgotten my manners. I've never even asked your name."
"Lady Eileen," she said, curtsying grandly.
"Look, can we get out of here?" Terence asked.
"Charmed," Gawain said with a deep bow.
"Terence is right, Sir Gawain. You really should be leaving."
"Oh, very well," Gawain said with a police smile. "I've had a lovely evening, my lady."
Lady Eileen giggled, and Terence rolled his eyes. They turned toward the door, but Lady Eileen asked, "Did you kill my uncle?"
"No. I had to knock him around a bit, but I didn't think it would be polite to kill him after all you've done to help." Lady Eileen slumped with disappointment, and Gawain said, "But I'd be happy to go back, if you like. The only thing is, he's not feeling well, and I don't think it's chivalrous to kill someone on the chamberpot."
"Milord, we have to leave," Terence said firmly.
Lady Eileen sighed and said, "I suppose you're right. Maybe he'll die anyway."
"He certainly sounds as though he will," Gawain said encouragingly.
"Milord!"
"Oh, all right, Terence."
Gawain led the way out of the room. As he closed the door, Terence looked back at Lady Eileen, whose face was a curious mixture of amusement and dejection. "Thank you, Lady Eileen," he said. She nodded, and then Gawain and Terence were running down the hallway, swords at the ready.
They made it to the stables without incident and hurriedly saddled their horses, but when Terence opened the stable doors again, they found a score of yeoman soldiers lined up outside, all armed with spears. At their head was the marquis himself, looking extremely unwell and very pale in the moonlight but standing nevertheless. "At them!" the marquis cried, and the line charged.
Terence dropped to one knee, slipped his bow from his shoulder, and began firing arrow after arrow into the ranks. He had never fired so swiftly, and four soldiers were down before the line of soldiers came to Gawain. Then Terence drew his new sword from its scabbard on his saddle. For the next few minutes, he did not think but only slashed and parried by instinct. To his left he heard Gawain's roaring battle cry and the dull thud-thud-thud of his master's sword on the leather uniforms of the soldiers.
A soldier's face loomed before him, and Terence drew back his arm to cut at it, but stopped. It was the kind guard from the gate, and as Terence looked into his eyes he knew in an instant, though how he could not say, that this guard would not hurt him. Terence whirled away and faced another charging soldier, but before Terence could strike, the new attacker stopped short, with the first guard's spear in his chest. Then Gawain and Terence and the guard were standing alone amid a scattering of dead and wounded.
"Thank you, friend," Terence said. The guard nodded, but looked only at his fellow-soldier whom he had killed. "My name's Terence," Terence added.
At that the guard looked up. "My name is Alan," he said. "And you can't know what a relief it is to tell someone my name."
"Can't I just? This is Sir Gawain, of King Arthur's Round Table." Alan stared at Gawain with awe, then knelt before him.
"Nay, friend. I should kneel to you, in gratitude." Gawain grasped Alan's shoulders and gently raised him. Then Gawain looked around. "Where's the marquis?"
He was not there. Alan said, "He must have gone for more men. He can get as many as fifty from the barracks."
"Long odds. Perhaps we had best leave, Terence, if you'll stop dawdling. You'll come with us, Alan?"
Alan beamed. "With pleasure, Sir Gawain. I'll get a horse." He raced back into the stable. Terence glanced up the wall of the towering keep. Outlined against a lighted window was Lady Eileen. Gawain dropped a hand on Terence's shoulder and said, "You did well, lad."
"Wait here!" Terence said abruptly. Still carrying his sword, he ran back into the dark building, up the stairs, and down the hall to Lady Eileen's chamber. He pushed open the door without knocking and looked at her, panting from his run. She stared back but said nothing. "Come with us," he said.
"Come ... I can't ... I..." she stammered.
"You said you'd leave if you could. Now's your chance."
She stared at Terence for another second, then leaped into frenzied action. She grabbed a small bag and stuffed some clothes and a comb into it—of course she'd have to have a comb, Terence thought—and threw on a heavy traveling cloak. The whole process of packing took less than three minutes. They ran together down to the stable, where Terence helped her saddle the beautiful grey stallion he had seen her on before. He reached over to help her mount, but she pushed him away and climbed lightly into the saddle. Gawain, who had said nothing when he saw them come out of the tower, said pleasantly, "Shall we go then, if everyone's ready?"
They stepped out of the stables to see the marquis, clearly illuminated by the torches held by some thirty soldiers, standing between them and the main gate. Gawain rode forward and stopped, facing the line of soldiers. "My name is Sir Gawain," he said. "Are you all willing to die for your master as these others have? Do you love this cruel marquis so much?"
There was a slight rustling among the soldiers. "Attack!" shouted the marquis. No one moved.
"Come on, friends," Gawain said to Terence and the others. They trotted forward, and the line of soldiers parted for them, as if by magic.
"Attack, you craven dogs!" the marquis screamed. He saw Alan and Lady Eileen. "Traitors! Traitors! Kill them!" Still no one moved. "I'll have you all flayed!" shrieked the marquis. Without speaking, the soldiers moved in a circle until they surrounded their master.
Gawain's little cavalcade reached the gate and trotted through. A minute later, just before they entered the forest, a wild inhuman shriek rose from the castle. They stopped and looked back.
&nb
sp; "They killed him, didn't they?" Lady Eileen said.
"Wouldn't you?" said Alan. Then they rode together into the Wilderness of Wirral.
VI. The Elfin Village
The sun was already past its zenith when Terence awakened in their camp in the Wilderness of Wirral. Gawain and the soldier Alan were leaning together against a tree, talking in low voices. Behind them, wrapped in one of Gawain's blankets, Lady Eileen watched them. Terence threw off his covers, and Gawain turned.
"Good afternoon, Sir Slothful," he said, smiling. "Come join me. I was just trying to convince your friend Alan to ride along with us."
"Nay, my lord," Alan said apologetically. "I've no place in adventures like yours. I'm naught but a simple soldier."
"But soldiers' lives are filled with wars and adventures," Gawain protested.
Alan shook his head, smiling. "Not a bit, my lord. A soldier's life is filled with chores and standing guard and saving his pay for a drop of ale with his barrack mates and telling lies about adventures to the lasses. I'd never been in a battle until that little turn-up last night in the courtyard. I'm a peaceful man, all told, and I wish for a peaceful soldier's life."
Gawain chuckled and nodded. "Have you a fancy to be a soldier for King Arthur?" Alan gasped, and nodded enthusiastically. "Very well, then, you shall be. Ride to Camelot and tell them you have tidings of Sir Gawain's quest. Tell the king all that you know of our adventures in the Chateau Wirral, and don't leave out your own part. Then, ask a favor of the king for Sir Gawain—that he give the bearer of this tale a commission in his yeoman troops. I promise you that the king will grant the favor. Is that clear?"
Gawain made Alan repeat the instructions until he had them by rote. Alan tried to learn more about the escape, his part in the night's adventures having been fairly limited, but Gawain simply said that he should tell what he knew himself, and fill in whatever was needed to make it a good story. So Alan left them, and Gawain turned to Lady Eileen.
"And now, my lady, we must decide what you shall do." He smiled, and Lady Eileen nodded, her face tight. Now that she was not bossing him around, she seemed suddenly small to Terence. "What do you wish?" Gawain asked.
The Squire, His Knight, and His Lady Page 7