“All right,” I choked, trying to keep down my lunch, “this way.”
With the spriggan following behind, I scoured the ravine for anything that could possibly smell delicious when boiled. There was little there of use-a couple wild carrots, a few leeks-but I was lucky enough to come across a small patch of mint and a good amount of basil. It wasn’t much, but I supplemented with various weeds and grasses-nothing really edible, but they’d make a good showing for someone who had never eaten stew before. All of this I would toss into the pot as I found it, with the exception of the mint, and then look for more, going as slowly as possible to give the pot as long as possible to come to a boil.
When I brought my last additions to the pot-a few handfuls of ivy-the water was at a rollicking boil and the area was filled with the wonderful smell of the basil. The spriggan inhaled deeply and sighed. “Smells nommy-nom-nom! Again you do this when time to eat you?”
“I wouldn’t want to go any other way. Now, please hand me the kit-cat and I’ll-”
“No!” The spriggan hugged the cat to its chest, causing the cat to yowl and bite its leathery flesh. “In pot I throw!”
“But you don’t know how to best prepare kit-cat. Give it to me, and I’ll rub it with this,” at which point I held the mint out under it’s nose, “and butcher it to make it as, uh, nommy-nom-nom as possible.”
The spriggan sniffed and sniffed again and then began drooling even more than it had before. It thrust the kitten into my hands. “Yus! Make nommy-nommy-nommy-nom!”
I took the cat gingerly and gently rubbed the mint on its head while it batted at the herbs. I nodded toward the pot. “Here, while I prep the cat, why don’t you give the pot a sniff and really work up an appetite?”
The spriggan walked closer to the pot, breathed in and out deeply, then sighed happily.
“Good, eh? But if you want to get a really good whiff, get nice and close.” The spriggan got right next to the pot and sniffed. “That’s good, but to truly take in all the aromas, get that nose right over the water.”
“Yus! Yus!” it said, standing on its tiptoes and craning out its neck so that its face was sticking out over the lip of the cauldron. My chance had finally come. I dropped the cat, raced over, grabbed handfuls of the creature’s loose, dry flesh, and heaved it up and into the boiling water. The fiend shrieked in pain, and I clapped the lid on the pot and threw myself on top of it, holding it in place as the creature banged and thrashed in a desperate attempt to free itself. The lid grew hot and steam scalded my hands, but I held on until at long last the spriggan ceased to struggle. Spent, I climbed down and took off the lid. The spriggan’s dead eyes stared up at me, surrounded by chopped leaks, carrots, and ivy leaves.
“Let’s see… Lancelot… make a stew…like that!” I panted, flopping down on the ground to rest.
“Meow?”
“Not you, Lancelot,” I groaned. “The other one. Gimme a second and we’ll get you home.”
The climb back out of the ravine was just as difficult as I expected (and having a feisty kitten to handle on the way up didn’t make it any easier), but by mid-afternoon we reached the top and headed straight to the cottage. When the little girl saw us, she dashed over and grabbed little Lancelot and hugged and kissed him as he tried to squirm free.
“Well, there you go, milady,” I said. “I’ve saved poor, defenseless, and somewhat dim Sir Lancelot for you. And—”
“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, Sir Kay!” The little girl hugged me tightly. “You’re my new favorite knight!”
I smiled and tousled her hair. Nobody had ever said that to me before. It felt pretty good.
She looked up at me, puzzled. “Why does my kitten smell like mint?”
I shrugged. “Who can say?”
That night back at Camelot, the evening feast was one long list of complaints:
“The soup is too watery.”
“I think I chipped a tooth on this biscuit!”
“Is this pork cooked all the way through?”
“These apples are mealy,” Gawain grumbled, tossing an apple core across the room. “Good grief, Kay, how could you let the kitchen staff serve us this swill?”
“Oh, he wasn’t here to supervise it,” Lancelot said.
Arthur arched an eyebrow at me. “Really.”
“Mm-hm,” Lancelot said, taking a bite of meat pie then making a face. “I ran into him this morning. He was out adventuring.”
The other knights stopped eating.
“Did he then?” Bors said, grinning.
“He did,” Lancelot smirked. “So, what feats of bravery did you perform today, good Sir Kay?”
I glanced round the table. All of the knights were looking at me, clearly amused. I smiled. “I saved a kitten.”
The knights oohed and aahed and whistled. I shrugged and popped a grape in my mouth (it was a bit past its prime and should not have been part of the evening meal).
“That what happened to your hands?” Gawain asked. “Was the little nipper too much for you?”
“Oh, this?” I held up my bandaged hands. “Stew-related injury.”
Laughter filled the room, and Bors banged the table in delight. “Got to be careful with those stews!” Lancelot guffawed. “They’ll get away from you!”
“You have no idea,” I said, raising my goblet in salute.
Sure, I could have told them all about the spriggan and put them in their places, but I didn’t need to. I knew what I had done. I may just be a kitchen knight, but I’m the best darn kitchen knight in the kingdom. More importantly, I knew that I was somebody’s favorite knight, and that was more than enough for me.
CHAPTER 34
Lance had the curious ability to slow down time in combat situations; not literally, of course, but in his head it was as if everybody moved in slow motion and all fear utterly deserted him. When he saw Maddie being held at gunpoint, his reaction was the precise opposite of most people’s: He relaxed.
“I know you think you have the advantage here,” said Lance, strangely calm, “But you don’t. Let the woman go and I give you my word you will escape with your life. Otherwise, I make no promises.”
Cesar laughed a long, hysterical laugh. Lance had never seen a man look angrier than Cesar. He was positively deranged. “Me? ME escape with MY life? Let me spell this out for you, you worthless worm. You are surrounded.”
And Lance realized he was. As they had been talking, guards had appeared seemingly out of thin air, all with their guns drawn. Lance knew he was trapped.
“Very well.” He looked at Maddie. She nodded and slammed her head into Cesar’s nose.
Lance reacted immediately, throwing Isabella to the ground. He fired at Cesar, giving Maddie a moment to dive out of the way as Cesar screamed and clutched his shoulder.
Lance looked around at the guards behind him. As if in slow motion he saw the bullets heading towards their heads. So he made the only decision that made sense: He ran towards them.
Lance charged the guards like a bull, head held low. The guards, evidently not expecting somebody that insane, went over like dominoes, their guns falling out of their hands. Some fell off the wall; the ones that didn’t were smart enough to leap onto the ladders as fast they could and get out of Lance’s way.
Lance looked down. They were alone again on the wall, but the town had caught onto the battle. Guards on horseback had gathered at the bottom of the wall. In the distance, he could see Count Dima galloping towards them. Lance turned to Maddie and Isabella, who were both still flat on the ground.
“Grab a gun and stay down. Fox and his men have to be on their way; we only need to hold out until then. Let’s try and make it back towards the gate.” Maddie and Isabella nodded.
“I’m sorry,” Maddie said, getting up but keeping her head low; Isabella followed her lead, and they both grabbed guns that had been left behind by the guards. “I tried to blend into the crowds, but he found me, and there wasn’t a lot I could do when
I realized he had another gun—”
“Don’t apologize,” Lance answered, “Just focus on getting to the gate!”
Lance backed up, covering Maddie and Isabella’s backs while they moved toward the gate. The guards on the ground had retained their composure and were firing at will towards their positions; Lance noticed that they seemed to care surprisingly little if Isabella was hit, and wondered if they all realized she was with them. Lance fired a few more shots, managing to hit two guards that had climbed back onto the wall. They made it to the gate, only to realize that it was closed.
“We need to open the gate!” yelled Maddie. She was struggling not to panic. “Any more ideas?”
“Yeah,” Lance said, cocking his gun, “We hold them off.”
Isabella remained as resolute as ever. She nodded and raised her weapon. “I like our chances.” Maddie marveled at her composure; if she had panicked at all during the entire ordeal, she hadn’t let it show. Lance continued to perform what Maddie could only think of as miracles. Somehow, he forced his way through gunfire to an enormous wheel at the top of the wall, used to open the gate. It was clearly designed for at least two men. Maddie looked over the wall. The wagon was gaining speed quickly; they had little time to waste or else Fox, Bennett, and the theatrical troupe would be trapped.
Lance turned to Maddie and Isabella. “I need to leave cover to turn this wheel. Both of you, stay down. Do you understand me? I just need you to cover me long enough so that I can get this gate open, and then you can escape.”
Maddie caught it: You can escape. Not we. Lance was planning to sacrifice himself.
“Lance—”
“There’s no time, Maddie!” He stood up, grasped the massive wheel with both hands, and turned with all his strength. At first, Maddie thought nothing was happening. Then, with a great creaking, the wheel turned and the gate started to open.
Isabella’s mouth was open in shock. “That’s impossible. That gate can barely be opened by two strong men. They normally use four.”
Maddie looked at Isabella. “That’s Lance.” Maddie reminded herself that Lance was exposed. She wasn’t a terrible shot, but she wasn’t a good one either, and there were too many targets. Maddie took aim, but in her heart she knew that it was hopeless. In the background, she heard Lance cry out as a bullet grazed his face, but the wheel kept turning.
Suddenly, Fox’s words echoed in Maddie’s head: The one who is to be the queen of Avalon can call on the Knight of Crows.
Did this mean her? Why else would Fox tell her this? Maddie had no idea what she was supposed to say, and panic was starting to overwhelm her at last.
Desperately, she screamed the first thing that came into her head. “In the name of Queen Guinevere, I call on the Knight of Crows!”
For a second, nothing happened. Maddie’s heart dropped, and then she realized something:
Nothing was happening.
No more bullets were flying. The door had stopped opening. Everyone around her was standing perfectly still.
Maddie stood up straight in amazement. It was as if the whole world had fallen under an enchantment. Was the Knight of Crows truly this powerful?
Was she?
It was a prospect she didn’t want to consider, and as it turned out, didn’t have time to. A murder of crows had descended on top of the wall, surrounding her. Maddie covered her face, but realized quickly that the crows were not attacking anyone. They were merely gathering together.
In seconds the flock of crows had gathered into the shape of a tall man. Like shadows appearing in darkness, black armor seemed to materialize around him, helmet included, completely covering the Knight. At his side he held a long, black sword.
The Knight of Crows dropped to one knee in front of Maddie, who watched, amazed. When he spoke, it seemed to echo directly into her brain; she couldn’t recall if Fox’s story had mentioned something like that. My Queen, said the Knight. His voice was hoarse and scratchy. Tell me your desire.
Maddie’s heart was pounding. She had heard his honorific, but decided to think about it later. “I need you to save my friends.”
My powers are... limited, my Queen. I cannot guarantee your future. But I can help you survive the wall if you wish it.
Maddie had no idea what he meant by “limited”, but at the moment the current offer was attractive enough. “Yes! I wish it!”
The knight stood up straight and saluted, raising his sword in front of him. He didn’t speak but the meaning was clear: Very well.
And the world started again.
Lance was still turning the wheel. Isabella was still flat on the ground next to her. Guards were making their way up the wall on the other side, trapping them. The men at the bottom wall were getting closer and closer to hitting their marks.
But there was one difference.
The Knight of Crows.
He materialized in front of Lance. Bullets that surely would have killed him ricocheted harmlessly off the Knight’s armor. The guards stopped shooting for a second, shocked—and the Knight took his opportunity.
The first to go were the guards on the wall. The fight was short and brutal. Maddie had to turn away when she started to gag. Isabella looked at Maddie in amazement. “Who on earth is that?”
Maddie’s face was grim. “The Knight of Crows. I’ll explain later.”
Isabella, who had so far showed a remarkable ability to adapt to the situation, nodded. “Very well.”
Lance, meanwhile, was so engrossed with his task that he barely registered the Knight’s arrival.
It was over in a few seconds. After seeing the Knight’s terrifying display, the guards at the bottom of the wall had run in blind fear. The Knight turned towards Maddie and dropped to one knee.
The task is done, my Queen, he said in a cold, matter-of-fact tone. Maddie couldn’t bring herself to look down the length of the wall, but out of the corner of her eye she saw blood splattered everywhere, and the breastplate of the Knight’s black armor had turned nearly red. The Knight walked over to Maddie, bent over to grab her hand, and stood her up. He looked at her face, while Isabella watched in a stunned silence. Lance, amazingly, had finished his task and was nearly passed out on the ground, too exhausted to pay attention to the scene. Beneath them Fox’s wagon had nearly reached the gate.
I can still give you what you most desire. Maddie’s breath caught in her throat; she knew instantly what he was talking about. “You mean—”
Yes. Your father lives. I can take you to him now. You will accomplish your quest. All you need do is ask.
Isabella looked at Maddie in confusion. “What is this about?” Maddie ignored her.
Maddie realized that this was it. This was her moment. She could find her father, her wildest dream. She could see him again.
All she had to do was leave her friends.
A heaviness settled onto her heart. She remembered Fox’s stories, and finally realized:
There were more important problems in the world than her own.
It wasn’t about her.
She took a step back. “My friends need me.” Tears, unbidden and unwanted, filled her eyes. She blinked them away, furious at herself for crying. This was a time for strength, not emotion. “I reject your offer. Leave. Please.” Her voice cracked slightly at the end of the sentence.
As if in answer the Knight rushed forward and reached at Maddie’s throat. In the background Isabella screamed, and Maddie gasped in shock. But instead of grabbing her, he merely wiped off a drop of her blood. Maddie realized that the cut must have been from when Cesar had held her at knifepoint. The Knight opened the bottom of his helm and touched his tongue with the blood. Maddie shivered.
If that is thy wish, the Knight said simply. Then in a flurry of caws and feathers, he was gone: A flock of crows flying into the distance.
The Knight hadn’t taken long, but their time was up. The wagon was passing under them. Isabella looked at Maddie calmly. “What do we do?”
Maddie, still upset by the Knight’s offer, panicked. She looked down at the wagon, knowing they should jump but afraid to.
Then Lance stood before them, as if materializing from the air. As always, he took control of the situation. “Isabella, take Maddie’s hand! We jump now!”
Orders were exactly what Maddie needed at that moment. Isabella dropped her gun and grabbed Maddie’s hand. Together, they jumped.
Now was the part where all they could do was pray.
Pray that they didn’t miss the wagon completely: success.
Pray that their combined weight would rip a hole in the canvas: success.
Pray that the bedding they used was soft enough to break their fall: success.
Maddie, Isabella, and Lance crashed through the roof of the wagon, struggling to their feet despite the shakiness as it traversed over uneven terrain.
“We did it,” Maddie breathed, rubbing the side of her head. “I can’t believe it, we did it!”
Fox was holding onto the side of the canvas, looking outside. “I don’t know if we can say that yet. There are wagons gaining on us.” He looked at towards his driver. “Any way to speed it up?”
The driver smacked the horses with the reins, but there was no change in their speed. He looked back towards Fox. “They’re going as fast as they can, and considering what they’re carrying, that’s pretty fast.”
Lance gulped audibly. “Well, let’s hope—”
Suddenly, there was a tremendous crash. The wheels of the wagon behind them seemed to spontaneously collapse. Maddie clapped her hands. “Gavin!”
Gavin, ever patient, had been waiting outside the city the entire time. He had camouflaged himself to blend into the brown, parched terrain of the countryside, and rose out from the ground looking to all the world as if the very earth had come alive in defense of the rescuers. He gave a primal roar so terrifying and un-Gavin like that Maddie figured he must have been driven half-crazy with impatience.
In one of Bennett’s ingenious touches, Gavin wasn’t just shooting at them with regular arrows. Gavin’s arrows were tied down with special ropes periodically tied into thick knots. The fired arrows tangled themselves in the wooden wagon wheels, causing the vehicles to swerve and crash. Gavin probably only had one chance to make a perfect shot, but he had executed his portion of the plan so well that even Maddie only worked out what was happening after the fact.
Tales of the Once and Future King Page 31