A Step Beyond

by Nancy M Bell

  After applying himself with gusto to the meal, the knight pushed back from the rough plank table that served as the best seat in the Hoe and Harrow. The serving wench offered him another tankard of ale as she passed and made sure to brush her ample bosom against Gawain as she did so.

  Gawain smiled pleasantly at her, but gave no indication of wishing to take advantage of her charms. She was far too young for his tastes, and besides there was the Lady Nuina… The girl lifted an eyebrow and continued on her way to the kitchen. Gawain drained his ale and set the empty tankard on the bar on his way to the stairs behind the bar leading to the sleeping rooms.

  Once inside the small cupboard of a room, Gawain shoved the single chair in the room up against the door and braced it under the crude handle. No need for uninvited guests.

  Gratefully, he dropped his saddlebags and cloak to the floor and in a swift movement upended the bed. Nothing, other than a small mouse, frantically seeking refuge in a knot hole in the wall, met his regard.

  Satisfied the room didn’t hold any unexpected surprises Gawain crossed to the small, narrow window and turned his face to the light of the moon. The opening was high above the ground and seemed reasonably inaccessible from the stable rooftop. Still, he closed the shutters on the moonlight and dropped the bar across.

  “There is naught to worry about, Gawain. I will warn you if there is danger afoot.” Ailim’s voice was reassuringly strong in his inner ear, if somewhat muzzy with sleep.

  Once settled down in the low bed, Gawain let himself drift off to sleep. The warm satisfied feeling of a job well performed followed him down into slumber.

  Chapter Three

  The moon was still high in the sky when the noise of Ailim kicking the heavy oak board sides of his stall dragged Gawain from slumber. Bleary eyed, Gawain fought his way out the blankets which somehow had become wrapped around his limbs and stumbled out of bed. He stood swaying in the middle of the floor before hastily pulling on his clothes.

  “By the gods man, wake up!” Ailim’s voice was strident in his mind.

  “What is it? What’s amiss?” Gawain sent the thought back to the big grey stallion, taking the stairs two at a time in his hasty descent.

  “The queen is...gone.” Ailim’s voice was confused, in the long silence that followed Gawain knew the stallion communicated with the horses of his herd. All of Arthur’s war horses possessed the gift of mind speech which was not hindered by distance or magics. The stallions could also speak with horses not so gifted, but only if the need was great or a strong connection existed between them.

  “Gone, gone where?” Gawain demanded, releasing the latch on Ailim’s stall door and leaning on the grey shoulder. Ailim would be briefed by Lancelot’s Eldon, the mount of Arthur’s most trusted companion.

  His hands were busy gathering the horse’s tack while Ailim shook his heavy mane and pawed at the straw in agitation, listening to what the stallion was relaying to him.

  “She is gone, with no trace, like the white shadow she is named for.” Anger tinged Ailim’s words.

  “Is she in danger? Was she abducted?” Gawain was busy with Ailim’s saddle and bridle.

  “Eldon thinks not. He believes she went willingly with the knave. The King is adamant she is innocent, but there is reason to think else wise it seems.” Ailim ground his large teeth and flipped the bit on his tongue. Gawain wished Ailim would speak directly to Arthur’s Caliburn, although the wiser course of action would be to wait until Arthur’s rage cooled somewhat.

  “Who is she gone with, then? It is not Lancelot, as many would believe, as you have had speech with Eldon.”

  Gawain tightened the girth and swung into the saddle with a grunt. He tossed a coin to the sleepy-eyed stable hostler, who emerged from a pile of straw as the steel in Ailim’s shoes drew sparks from the cobbles in the stable yard.

  “From the information Lancelot received, it seems Lord Melwas is the culprit in this crime.” Ailim surged forward under Gawain and was in full stride before clearing the yard of the Hoe and Harrow.

  “Do they know where the queen is being held?” Gawain tucked his great cloak tighter around him as the chill air of early morning poked icy fingers down his neck.

  Gawain quickly calculated how long it would take him to reach Cadbury. Damnation, they were almost out at the mounts of the Scillies. It was twenty miles to the sands of Sennen and a good six days ride cross country to Cadbury from there.

  “Arthur must be frantic to rescue his queen. Gods help the lady if, in truth, she did go willingly and has cuckolded the King.”

  “Lord Melwas has a holding at Ynis Witrin as well as the spiral castle of his sister, Arianrhod, at Silbury Hill. But somehow, I don’t think that is where they are bound,” Ailim reported.

  “Where then?” Gawain’s heart sank to his boots, Ynis Witrin, and Silbury Hill, were a long way from Lyonnesse.

  “Eldon thinks from what has been gathered from Gwenhwyfar’s palfrey, they may be headed south, toward us.” Ailim’s tone brightened at the news.

  “But where? Lord Melwas has no holdings here in the southwest that I know of.” The warrior pondered on the information.

  Gawain drew rein slightly as Ailim stumbled and snorted fiercely.

  “What’s amiss, my friend, are you hurt?” Gawain laid his gauntleted hand on the surging grey shoulder.

  “Methinks you will not like this bit of information over much.” Ailim was hesitant and a bit distant.

  “What would that be?” His fingers tightened on the leather reins in his hands.

  “It would seem the queen is not alone, one of her ladies was taken with her,” Ailim said carefully.

  “Which lady?” Gawain spit the words out harshly, speaking aloud in his anger. In his heart of hearts the identity of the lady in question was no surprise.

  “The Lady Nuina was with the queen when Lord Melwas gained entry to the queen’s solar and was forced to go along with the pair when they made their escape.” Ailim’s voice was full of compassion and barely controlled anger. “The Lady Nuina did not go willingly.”

  “No, she would not,” Gawain agreed as a cold hand wrapped its fingers around his beating heart.

  “So we ride, my friend. Once we reach the sands of Sennen, we will have to decide if we ride northeast to Ynis Witrin and Cadbury, or if we turn to the south and search for the perfidious pair here in Kernow. Surely, Gwenhwyfar will not seek sanctuary at Tintagel on those rocky cliffs. I would not think that Ygraine would welcome her daughter-in-law and her lover.” The miles sped away beneath the strong hooves of the steel-grey stallion. The sun unerringly marked the passage of the hours, as it moved across the sky, shining into the faces of the knight and his charger before retreating to beat on their backs as it prepared to sink into the western sea, hidden far behind them in the shadows of the mounts of the Scillies.

  Gawain drew rein as the dusk spread in long purple fingers across the land. Ailim slowed to a walk and then to a halt in the shade of an ancient oak tree. Sweat stained his grey coat, and his sides heaved like a blacksmith’s bellows as the horse drew deep breaths into his starved lungs.

  “We rest for a while, my friend,” Gawain told him when the great stallion would have started off again. “There is no profit in having you foundered and crippled. It will not hasten our journey if you are lame.”

  The knight stepped down off the frothing stallion, loosened the girth, removed the bridle and hung it on the pommel of the saddle. Ailim dropped his head until his nose rested on the ground. His exhalations stirred tiny twin dust devils in the dirt.

  Presently, he made his way to the clear little stream running in the grasses to the south of the oak. Gawain threw himself down and leaned on the mighty tree trunk. Ailim took the opportunity to graze on the lush grasses while the man took a quick rest.

  Why did it have to be the Lady Nuina who was taken? He hadn’t yet gotten the chance for proper speech with her, and his heart hoped she was as eager as he for the hand f
asting at Lammas. The proper moment just hadn’t presented itself for him to speak. In spite of his good intentions, exhaustion overtook Gawain, and he dropped into a heavy slumber while the stallion stood guard over him. The cool night air and the bark of a hunting fox brought Gawain to his feet in one supple move, his hand reaching for the dagger in his belt. Ailim was instantly awake and pivoted to protect the weak side of his partner. The fox barked again, followed by the abruptly truncated squeal of a rabbit.

  The two warriors relaxed. Gawain turned to tighten the girth on the saddle and slip the bridle over the horse’s ears. The road in front of them was plain in the light of the waxing moon, and they made good time. The moon was sliding toward dawn by the time the sands at Sennen gleamed silver on the horizon.

  Two hours later, Gawain drew rein at the foot of the ascent to the higher moorland looming above them.

  “Well, what say you? Northeast to Ynis Witrin, or south to … where?”

  The grey stallion lifted his great head, pricked his ears in the direction of Cadbury Hill and stood motionless for many minutes. Finally, he relaxed his stance and shook his heavy mane.

  “Eldon says Arthur and six of his knights are headed to Ynis Witrin, Lancelot and the rest are on the way to Silbury Hill. There is a small possibility Lord Melwas and the ladies are headed to the sacred mount here in the southwest of Kernow. As we are already here and closest, we are to go south to the Mount and watch for any sign of Lord Melwas and the queen.” Ailim relayed the instructions.

  “And the Lady Nuina, who seems to have been forgotten in all this,” Gawain replied grimly.

  “Yes, and the Lady Nuina.”

  “Well, then my friend, south we go. Gods help Lord Melwas if any harm has come to the Lady Nuina.” Gawain slapped the charger on the shoulder.

  Dawn was well advanced when the pair reached the top of the steep assent and gained the moor. Yellow gorse brightened the landscape, the hot buttery scent carrying on the wind. Gawain gauged his direction by the rising sun and set off cross country instead of following the track winding around the south western point of Kernow. The going was harder, but the distance was so much less, it was quicker. They stopped in the shade of a large stone quoit to rest and fill their stomachs.

  To the south, Gawain could make out the shapes of the Dancing Maidens stone ring; it seemed a very cruel punishment to be turned to stone for dancing on what the followers of the White Christ called the Lord’s Day. The priests of the White Christ were gaining power and followers as they hid behind the skirts of the new Queen Gwenhwyfar. The woman favored them over the warrior god Mithras, who remained, even after the Romans left. She listened to the priests, even over the council of the Ladies of the Lake at Ynis Witrin, though the Ladies were the ones who helped set Arthur on his throne.

  Gwenhwyfar had failed so far to produce an heir for Arthur, and the rumors were rampant she had taken others to her bed in her quest to give her king an heir. Rumor also implied it was Lancelot who made a merry three in the great bed of the king. Gawain brushed the thoughts impatiently from his mind. That problem was between the three of them and no concern of his, save how it affected Nuina.

  What Arthur and his queen did in their marital bed wasn’t for him to dwell on, all the more so if it included Lancelot. Gawain would endeavour to rescue the queen, even if it be true she was a cheating harlot, out of respect for the vows spoken to Arthur. There would be no rest until the Lady Nuina was safe from harm and in his keeping. Not until now, when he might lose her, did the warrior realize how much he valued her company and her counsel.

  The evening shadows were long on the ground when Gawain and Ailim came near to the western coast of Mount’s Bay. They climbed to the top of Raginnis Hill and made camp in the lee of a huge granite boulder. The coarse grass offered a comfortable bed, and Ailim found plenty of forage on the sides of the hill.

  From this vantage point, man and horse enjoyed an unencumbered view of the Mount and the approaches to it. Trees grew thickly on the lower slopes, and a forest blanketed the flat plain to the north of it. The white sand of the narrow road shone through the tree trunks, and there were plenty of places where the road traversed open reaches in the forest.

  Gawain and Ailim could see any movement going to, or from, the Mount without being seen themselves. They settled down to wait and watch. It was a cold vigil. Gawain wanted no flame to give away his presence on the Hill of Raginnis. He even took the precaution of blackening any surface on Ailim’s tack that might catch the light of the moon or the sun with soot from the ashes of a nearby fire pit. Grimly, Gawain hunkered down to wait impatiently for Lord Melwas to show his face.

  For two days, man and horse kept their silent watch; nothing out of the ordinary moved on the roads below them. In the evening of the second day, Ailim threw his head up in alarm and then listened intently. Gawain sprang to his feet and was at the grey stallion’s shoulder in an instant. With his heart in his mouth, he waited for the stallion to finish communing with his herd brothers and relay the news to him.

  Had they found the queen and the Lady Nuina? Were they safe and on their way back to Cadbury as he stood waiting for news? Gods and Goddess, I beg you, don’t let any harm have come to the Lady Nuina.

  Ailim lowered his head and shook his mane in frustration. The stallion turned his large head and fixed one huge, liquid dark eye on Gawain.

  “You will not like what I have to say. Arthur and his men have reached Ynis Witrin, and Melwas and the queen are not there. For a time, they believed they had them holed up in the castle like rats, but it was only a decoy. Arthur and his followers ride for Silbury Hill to join Lancelot. Lancelot advised Arthur not to tell us sooner in case they were wrong, and Melwas is still headed our way.”

  “What of the Lady Nuina?” Gawain burst out. “Where is she in all this?”

  “As far as anyone knows, she is still with the queen and therefore riding with Melwas wherever they are.” Ailim sounded none too pleased at the situation.

  “So they are at Silbury Hill, then.” Gawain bent to gather Ailim’s tack and heave the saddle onto his broad back.

  Ailim moved out of Gawain’s range, so the saddle missed his back.

  “Hold, Gawain. They are in no way sure where Melwas is. The hope is they are at Silbury Hill, or better still, en route, so Arthur and Lancelot can join forces and take the queen and the Lady Nuina before Melwas reaches the sanctuary of his sister’s spiral castle. We are to wait here and keep watch. Arthur and Lancelot, too, fear a trick may be playing out that will take them in the wrong direction.”

  “May the Gods blast the man,” Gawain cursed Melwas. “I am going mad biding my time here while the Lady Nuina is in danger.”

  “Perhaps the fates will be kind, and by the morning, we can be northward bound for Cadbury and a reunion with your lady love.” Ailim sought to soothe Gawain’s ire.

  “Perhaps,” Gawain said shortly and replaced the saddle in the hollow by the base of the boulder.

  Gawain spent the night pacing the heights of Raginnis Hill, being careful to stay below the crest and invisible to any looking at the outline of the hill against the starlit sky.

  Morning came and with it a change in the weather. Grey clouds scudded across the waters of the sea, and the sun only shed a pale bleary light through the mist gathered over the moor. The wind picked up and on its breath was the taste and scent of impending rain. Gawain covered his gear with a bit of canvas from his saddle bags and threw a spare cloak over Ailim’s broad grey back. He wrapped his own cloak tightly around himself and pulled the hood forward over his head.

  By the time the sun limped a quarter of the way to the zenith, Gawain knew they would have to move camp. The heavy mist and rain made any attempt to see down onto the flats by the Mount useless. Gawain made quick work of packing up and saddling Ailim. Wearily, the knight swung his leg over the saddle before it could get too wet with the heavy rain that now fell. The pair slipped and slid their way down the muddy track wind
ing through the coarse grasses and low bushes of gorse and heather.

  Once on the flat ground at the base of the hill, Gawain urged Ailim into the shelter of the tall trees growing close together in a large hardwood forest. Under the canopy of the leaves, the rain lessened considerably, and the footing was much better.

  Gawain drew rein and stopped to ponder what his next move would be. Ailim rested in the shadowy depths of the forest, glad to stand hip shot and rest after his long slog through the mud.

  The knight wondered if they should just ride up to the keep, ask for refuge and pretend to know nothing of the queen’s abduction, or the fact Lord Melwas was suspected of having a hand in it. It certainly trumped trying to stay warm and dry in this dismal place. What if, the knight argued with himself, it jeopardized the safety of the Lady Nuina and the queen by doing such a thing? Perhaps Lord Melwas was already there and waiting with an arrow to take anyone who approached. He would be no good to the king, or the ladies, if that should chance. Gawain was sure Lord Melwas couldn’t have gotten there ahead of him though. The queen was not a horsewoman, which would slow them down considerably. The Lady Nuina was well versed in horsemanship, but she would do whatever she could to hinder their progress in hopes the king would catch up with them while they were still in open country.

  Ailim roused out of his doze as Gawain shifted in the saddle.

  “Have you managed to come up with a plan yet?” the stallion asked.

  “Not so far.” Disgust laced his thought.

  “Do you think when you do concoct a plan it could include a warm dry stable for your trusty steed?” Ailim said plaintively.

  “Have you any word from Eldon? Has Arthur reached Silbury Hill? Has Lancelot joined forces with him yet?” Gawain nudged Ailim with his heel to get his attention away from visions of warm stables.

  Ailim snorted lustily and reached across the soggy distance to confer with Lancelot’s Eldon.

  “They are together, Arthur and Lancelot. Eldon says Arthur is flaming with rage at both Lord Melwas and the rumours about the queen. They are within sight of Silbury Hill and have seen no sign of Lord Melwas or the ladies on the road.”