The Savage Damsel and the Dwarf

by Gerald Morris

  The knights roared with laughter. "What sort of adventures are you looking for, Saggy?" asked the young knight who had encountered Roger and Lynet in the forest.

  "That's Sir Harry le Fise Lake," Roger whispered to Lynet.

  Sir Sagramore struck a noble pose. "Something perilous, something splendid—"

  "Something you can do from a sitting position," interrupted the knight with the brown beard. ("Sir Dinadan," whispered Roger.)

  "I did hear of one adventure," said Sir Bleoberis. "Not far from Londinium, there's a chap holding a tournament. The winner gets to marry his daughter."

  Sir Harry gave a low whistle. "Thanks for the warning. What do you thinks wrong with her?"

  "Probably squints," Sir Sagramore said.

  "Or has spots," suggested Sir Dinadan. "Best steer clear of Londinium, fellows." The other knights nodded in agreement.

  "Now now, Dinadan," Sir Bleoberis said with a grin, "she's probably a very nice girl, one that you'd be proud to show your mother."

  "Not I," replied Sir Dinadan. "I've sworn off women. Nothing but a take-in, as Sir Dinas the Seneschal found out. Have you lads heard the tale?" The others shook their heads, and settled themselves comfortably to listen.

  Sir Dinadan cleared his throat and began. "In Cornwall, where King Mark ruleth, abideth a passing good knight who is y-clept Sir Dinas—"

  "Stow it, Dinadan!" interrupted Sir Harry, laughing. "Just tell us what happened and save the foofaraws for the minstrels."

  Sir Dinadan grinned and continued in a more natural tone. "Seems that Sir Dinas loved this lady. Gave her the best rooms in his castle, gave her everything. But she made a rope out of her towels, climbed out the window, and ran away with another knight."

  "Strumpet," Sir Sagramore commented, to no one. "He's better off without her."

  "Not so, my jaded friend," replied Sir Dinadan. "When she left, she took along two of Sir Dinas's best hunting dogs, the finest brachets in Cornwall."

  Sir Bleoberis grew suddenly animated. "She took his hunting dogs? That's too much, dash it! What did Dinas do?"

  "He rode after them. He caught up the next day and challenged the knight. Dinas isn't bad for a Cornish knight, and he killed the chap right there. The woman got all starry-eyed and simpered to Dinas about how wonderful he was and how glad she was he'd rescued her, but Dinas just took his dogs and went home."

  The knights laughed coarsely. "Left her in the forest, did he?" crowed Sir Harry. "Good man!"

  "Were the dogs all right?" asked Sir Bleoberis.

  Lynet listened in indignant silence. While she could not approve of the lady's secret affair, she could easily imagine herself in the woman's place, left alone and friendless in the forest with her lover's corpse. She was astonished at these knights' callousness.

  "You say this Dinas was a good fighter, eh?" Sir Harry commented. "I didn't think there were any good knights in Cornwall."

  "There aren't many, and that's a fact," Sir Dinadan agreed. "But they're not as bad as all that. I think they have a bad reputation because their king is such a bleeder."

  "Is King Mark as bumbling as they say?" Sir Bleoberis asked.

  Sir Dinadan grinned and glanced into the shadows where Roger and Lynet sat. "Maybe our dwarf can help us with that. I heard that King Mark was unhorsed by old Gaheris. Is that so?"

  Roger nodded. "S'truth," he said. "I was there."

  "Good Gog," said Sir Sagramore. "This Mark must be blind and crippled, then. Unhorsed by Gary! I could never hold my head up again."

  The knights continued talking around the fire, telling stories, laughing good-naturedly at themselves and others. Lynet wrapped up in her blankets and listened, alternately shocked and amused by their casual attitude toward each others' feelings. No matter how they insulted each other, no one ever seemed to take offense. How differently a group of ladies would act, she reflected as she went to sleep.

  The sky was still dark, and the stars still bright when Roger woke Lynet and indicated with gestures that it was time to go. Wordlessly, she helped Roger saddle the horses, then mounted and followed the dwarf out of the forest. Only after they had ridden for almost half an hour did Roger speak. "Sorry to wake you so early, but I thought it would be best if we were gone before the others awoke. Less chance they'd spot you for a lady." Lynet nodded, and Roger added, "Though they might not have guessed anyway, from how silent you were. You did very well in there, holding your tongue."

  "You mean that you thought all ladies talk too much?"

  The dwarf laughed. "I must admit that you are a surprising lady."

  "And you," said Lynet, "are a surprising dwarf. You don't act or talk like a dwarf, you know. Even that Sir Dinadan noticed it. And how is it that you seem to know all of them so well, but they didn't recognize you?"

  Roger did not look at her. "No one notices a dwarf," he said at last.

  The dwarf's voice was wistful, and Lynet tactfully changed the subject. "What did you call that place? The Knight's something?"

  "'The Knight's Sabbath'," Roger said quickly. "It's a secret resting place for knights errant. They go out to seek adventures, which is deucedly uncomfortable and not always so easy—adventures don't grow on every tree—and after a while they get tired of it. Then they go to the Knight's Sabbath. There they hunt all day, talk all evening, and make up stories of their great adventures to tell when they go home."

  "But that's terrible!" Lynet exclaimed.

  Roger turned his short, stocky body and looked at her seriously. "Why? None of those men back there ever really wanted to be a knight. Not one of them enjoys fighting, jousting, rescuing damsels, and so on."

  "Why did they become knights, then?" Lynet asked.

  "What choice do they have?" Roger asked. "They're all younger sons: born into noble families but without any real inheritance. What's left for them but to become knights?"

  Lynet shook her head. "I still think they're horrid. All these high and mighty knights sitting in a circle saying mean things about knights who aren't even there—like this one that you used to serve."

  "Who? Gaheris? They said nothing about him that they wouldn't have said to his face." Roger smiled. "I'm sure Gaheris knows he's a rotten fighter."

  "Well, what about those terrible things they said about ladies?" demanded Lynet.

  Roger smiled more widely. "I wondered if that would rankle."

  "It was awful! Aren't knights supposed to swear some oath to honor ladies?" Roger shrugged, and Lynet shook her head decidedly. "I'm glad I'm going to King Arthur's court. Surely the Knights of the Round Table will be more chivalrous."

  Roger swiveled in his saddle and stared at her, amusement growing in his eyes. "Didn't you know?" he asked. "Every one of those knights back there was a fellow of the Round Table."

  III. The Kitchen Knave

  "There it is," said Roger, reining in. "On the top of that hill. Camelot." Lynet stared at the towering castle where King Arthur held court and felt suddenly very small. For the first time she was struck with the effrontery of her whole project: she, the sixteen-year-old daughter of a former enemy of Arthur's, had come to his great court seeking aid. For a wild moment, she wondered about going home, and to make matters worse Roger wheeled his horse and said, "I'll be leaving you now. Even you should be able to find your way from here."

  "You're leaving?" Lynet gasped, too stunned even to resent his slur on her sense of direction. "Won't you go in with me?"

  Roger smiled a lopsided smile and shook his head. "Nay, you've no use for me now."

  "But what will I do? How can I see Arthur? Where do I go?"

  The dwarf looked at her sharply. "You're not frightened, are you?"

  Lynet mustered her self-composure. "Don't be a dolt. Of course not."

  Roger grinned. "That's the dandy. I've no doubt you can brazen your way into anywhere you like."

  Lynet felt her courage returning. She lifted her chin and said with dignity, "I should be pleased if you would accompany me,
all the same."

  Roger hesitated, but at last he shrugged. "Oh, very well. But as soon as you're in, I'm off, do you hear?"

  Lynet was too relieved to argue, and they rode on together. As they approached the front gate, a hulking guard in chain mail barred their way. '"Old!" he announced gruffly. "No one allowed inside until after Whitsuntide."

  "But it is for the feast that we have come," Lynet replied with outward calm.

  "Ay, you don't have to tell me that. Come with another problem for the king to solve. You'd think 'is 'ighness 'ad nothing better to do with 'is time than to listen to a parcel of complainers."

  Lynet's eyes flashed. "That, sirrah, is exactly what I think! Is he the king of this land or not? Then he shall hear of the abuses that take place in it!" She urged her horse forward, but the guard blocked her with his great spear.

  "Not so fast, missy. Sir Kai's orders were to close the gates to newcomers. The king 'as more than enough to muddle with already."

  "You forget yourself, guard," Roger said softly. "Speak respectfully to the lady."

  '"o! A gnat!" The guard laughed. "What'll you do? Bite my ankle?"

  A new voice, calmer and with more authority, intervened. "What's going on here, Colin?"

  The guard stood sharply to attention. "More people wanting to see the king, Captain!"

  A tall guard with grave eyes stepped up behind the guard. "Very well, Colin. I'll take care of this now." He turned to Lynet and said, "I apologize for my guard's rudeness, my lady, but he only did as he was told. So many have come to ask boons of the king that we can scarce house them all. We are not to permit any new arrivals."

  Lynet's heart sank, and she lowered her eyes.

  "Nay, my lady," Roger breathed, almost too softly to hear. "Don't give up so soon."

  Again, she felt a new courage, as if the dwarf were willing her to be strong. She looked into the captain's eyes. "I will not go away for your convenience. No, not even for the king's convenience! Who is here to serve whom?"

  The captain's brows lifted, and a smile lit his eyes. "I can ask Sir Kai in person, I suppose. If you will give me your name—"

  "I will not!" Lynet declared.

  "Eh?" said the captain and Roger together.

  "I am one of the king's subjects, and I have come to ask his help. That should be enough." She met the captain's gaze squarely.

  The captain glanced once at Roger. "Do you know this formidable lady, friend?"

  "Somewhat. That's not to say I understand her, mind you." Lynet felt Roger's eyes on her, and she flushed, but she kept her gaze on the captain.

  "She will not be sent away, will she?" the captain asked.

  "Nay. Of that much I am sure," Roger replied.

  The captain grinned. "I think I know what to do, my lady. I'm going to take you to one of the court damsels—she is close to the king and to several of his knights. I rather think she'll like you, and she may be able to help. Would you please follow me?" The captain bowed and led the way across the great bustling courtyard. All around her, Lynet was aware of a festive throng in bright clothes, and she longed to gaze at it in open-mouthed wonder, but mindful of her dignity, she kept her eyes straight ahead.

  "Why, there she is now!" the captain exclaimed. "Pardon me! Pardon me, Lady Eileen!"

  A short woman in a green dress who had been striding briskly across the court stopped in her tracks. "What is it, Alan?" Then she turned her eyes toward Lynet. Meeting the woman's bold, straightforward gaze, Lynet knew at once that she had found a kindred spirit. She sighed with relief and turned to speak to Roger. The dwarf was gone.

  "These are my rooms," Lady Eileen said. "Come in at once and sit down. You've been traveling all day, haven't you?"

  "Yes, my lady," Lynet said meekly.

  "None of that, now. You'll call me by my name, which is Eileen. Flora! Flora, where are you! Come in here!"

  A maidservant bustled in, carrying a dress. "Oh, my lady, I was sure you'd be late. Eve brought—"

  "No time for that now. Eve a guest. I need you to go to the kitchens and bring up food for two. The best of everything. I'll be dining here this evening with my friend."

  "But, my lady, the banquet!" the maidservant gasped.

  "I suppose it will go on without me," Lady Eileen said indifferently. "Mind you hurry, now. My friend has been traveling far."

  Lynet tried to intervene. "No, my lady ... I mean Lady Eileen ... you mustn't miss a banquet on my account. Indeed, I couldn't—"

  "Nonsense. We'll be much more comfortable in here by the fire. Horrid banquet hall is always freezing, even in May. Well, Flora? What are you waiting for?" The maidservant started nervously and scampered from the room. Lady Eileen turned her eyes to Lynet and looked at her quietly for a moment. "I suppose you'd better tell me all about it," she said. "To begin with, what is your name?"

  Lynet returned Lady Eileen's gaze, but forlornly. "Must I tell?"

  "It is customary. Is there a reason you should not?"

  Lynet nodded. "I ... I wish I could. I don't like to hide. But I'm not here for my own sake, and ... if I..." she trailed off helplessly.

  "Never mind," said Lady Eileen. "Can you tell me your story without using names?"

  Relieved, Lynet told about her sister and about the siege by the Knight of the Red Lands.

  "I see," said Lady Eileen, when Lynet had finished. "And you've come to ask Arthur to send a champion to fight the Red Knight?"

  Lynet started to speak, but was interrupted by the arrival of Flora, followed by a serving man, bringing their food. While the serving man laid out a dozen or so plates of enticing food, Lynet answered, "That's right. And my sister will marry the knight who delivers us."

  Lady Eileen raised one eyebrow. "Of course she will," she murmured. "And no doubt your sister is the fairest damsel in all England."

  Lynet looked at her sharply. "Oh, dear. You make it sound so ordinary."

  "Every damsel in distress is the fairest in all England, it seems," Lady Eileen said drily. "Truthfully, now. Is your sister even passably good-looking?"

  Lynet nodded vigorously. "She really is. Flawless. A little wispy thing with mournful eyes and a trembling smile. Besides," she added prosaically, "she's rich. She owns our castle and all the best farmland in our region."

  Lady Eileen looked at the serving man, who had finished laying out the meal. "Thank you, Beaumains. That will be all." The kitchen knave left, and Lady Eileen said musingly, "How unusual! A maiden in need who is really beautiful!" She smiled ruefully at Lynet and added, unexpectedly, "And how dreadful for you. I should hate to have a gorgeous sister."

  Lynet dimpled. "It is trying, sometimes."

  "I imagine so. I don't suppose she's the sort who will get sadly overweight when she grows older, is she?"

  "No such luck," Lynet replied mournfully. "She'll still be stunning when she's ... oh! I didn't mean to say that!" Lynet put a hand to her mouth, but Lady Eileen's eyes held so much understanding that Lynet began to giggle. "I don't really wish her ill, but it's true that I used to daydream about the day when she would be fat and peevish looking. She hardly eats anything, though, and I had to give it up."

  "Don't give up," said Lady Eileen reassuringly. "She'll be skinny and peevish looking, and that's even worse. Shall we eat?"

  "Yes, please," Lynet said, and for some time they devoted their attention to their meal.

  When at last they were both satisfied, Lady Eileen leaned back in her chair and said, "So, if I understand you, you need one of Arthur's knights, but you're afraid that if you tell who you are, then he won't send one. Right?" Lynet nodded. "But you have no other recourse. This Knight of the Red Laundry or whatever it is has bottled you up in your castle—" She trailed off and asked suddenly, "How did you get out, by the way?"

  Lynet shook her head doubtfully. "Em not really sure, myself. I made a plan to escape at night — I was going to pretend to be a maidservant and walk right through the Red Knight's camp—but it never would have wor
ked."

  "I shouldn't think so," Lady Eileen said. "You walk with too much assurance. So what happened?"

  "That's what I don't understand. Someone met me at the edge of the camp and helped me. At first, it was an old woman—"

  "At first?" Lady Eileen interrupted.

  "Yes. She ... she changed later." Lynet sighed. "I'm afraid this sounds like nonsense."

  "Not at all," replied Lady Eileen. "I'm suddenly very interested."

  "Well, the old lady convinced the guard that we were local peasants, and then she became a young man, and she ... he said he was from the ... I've forgotten the name, from some court. It wasn't from Arthur's Court."

  Lady Eileen's eyes were bright. "Was it perhaps the 'Seelie Court?"

  "Yes! That's it!" Lynet exclaimed. "What is the Seelie Court, please?"

  "The Seelie Court is the world of the faeries, or rather the good part of it. The monsters—hags and ogres and such—are the Unseelie Court."

  Lynet stared. "You mean that I was helped by a faery?"

  "I do. And if the Seelie Court has taken an interest in you, then I'll certainly do what I can to help."

  Lynet started to thank her, but a flicker of motion to her left caught her eye, and a new voice said, "I've just come to see where you ... oh, I beg your pardon. I didn't know you were entertaining." Lynet turned to see a young man with a smooth, triangular face and high, arching eyebrows. He stood beside the window, through which he evidently had just noiselessly entered.

  Lady Eileen stood. "Come in, Terence. I was just wishing for you. Sorry I missed the banquet. Was it dreadful?" The young man grinned and nodded. Lady Eileen explained, "I was dining with a friend. My friend, this is Terence, squire to Sir Gawain."

  Lynet managed not to gape, but she was impressed nevertheless. Sir Gawain's exploits were legendary, and to encounter even his own personal squire left her a little awestruck. But when she looked into the squire's eyes, she forgot about his famous master. This Terence had the brightest and clearest eyes she had ever seen, and he looked at her with keen interest. Raising one eyebrow, he bowed with rare grace and said, "I am your servant, my lady. May I ask your name?"