The Merriest Knight

by Theodore Goodridge Roberts

  "Fool!" cried the wench. "Now you've cast away your chance of life—and passed your only advantage to him— oh, pitiful fool!"

  Sure enough, Grudwyn had raised the shield and dressed it before him quicker than it can be told. But Dinadan only smiled and murmured to himself: "Well soon know who is the fool."

  Now Grudwyn charged again behind shield and whirling sword, and Dinadan avoided him lightly and banged the back of Grudwyn's helmet as he plunged past; and as he ploughed to a stop, and again as he came heavily about, Dinadan banged him shrewdly on neckpiece and backplate.

  "Stand and fight!" roared Grudwyn.

  "Nay, would you have me split my own shield?" Dinadan jeered.

  So Grudwyn continued to charge and slash, check and turn, still slashing, all the while carving nothing but air; and the massy shield on his left arm sank an inch lower every minute.

  "A heavy shield, in sooth, but a mere plaything on the powerful arm of the mighty Sir Grudwyn," jeered Dinadan.

  "Stand still—but ten seconds—and I´ll cut you in two," gasped Grudwyn.

  "All in good time," said Dinadan, skipping lightly.

  So Grudwyn continued to scar the greensward with his mad and weighty plunges and turns, while Dinadan circled just out of reach of the whistling sword, and the heavy shield sank lower every minute. But at last, and as suddenly as a flash of lightning, Dinadan stood firm and struck full-strength once, twice, and again, forehanded, backhanded, and forehanded again through steel links and bone. Grudwyn toppled and crashed; and Dinadan made to step away lightly to avoid the gushing blood, but fouled his spurs in something behind him and went over backward.

  * * *

  Sir Dinadan opened his eyes, beheld a slanted sunbeam, and closed them. When he opened them again he saw candlelight. He blinked, looked again, and saw the face of an old man in a black hood.

  "Brother Ambrose?" he queried.

  His voice was so feeble a voice that he hardly knew it for his own.

  "Nay, Doctor Mendax," said the old man. "Candles," Dinadan murmured. "Where am I?" "In bed, young sir." "Why?"

  "Why? You may well ask. But for me, you'd be in a grave."

  "In a grave? Gramercy! But why?"

  "You would be dead, that's why. But compose yourself. Relax, and drink this."

  The doctor raised Dinadan's head a little with his left arm and held a cup to his lips. Dinadan drank, and instantly slept again. When he opened his eyes the third time, it was still upon the feeble shine of two candles, and the doctor was still there.

  "It has come back to me," he said. "I was fighting afoot with a false knight—it all comes clear to me now—and cut him down with three mortal strokes. Then my heels tripped on something. What happened then?"

  "You were stabbed from behind," said the doctor in a soothing yet relishing tone of voice. "A deadly stab, young man. A mortal thrust. But thanks to the knowledge and skill of poor old Doctor Mendax, you still live and will soon be sound."

  "Gramercy, learned sir. But who stabbed me?" "Grudwyn's squire."

  "Nay, that tricky knave was dead. I saw him dead on the ground, where the goose girl had whacked the life out of him with her oaken staff."

  "That's what she thought too; but when you stumbled backward over him and he arose and sank a poniard in you, she had to whack him again—which she did with a vengeance. And now he and Grudwyn occupy the same ignoble grave."

  "A deadly wench and overprone to cry 'Fool!' at her betters. But a good girl at heart, and a good friend to me, for it seems that I owe her my life twice or maybe thrice."

  Doctor Mendax chuckled and said: "Ay, you can say that, young man—a deadly wench indeed, but certainly a good friend to you, for you'd have bled white if she hadn't come and pulled me out of bed and out to you by main strength, willy-nilly. Had she been a minute slower, even my skill could not have saved you."

  "So I'm within the castle, I presume," sighed Dinadan.

  "Ay, and in the very best bed."

  "And what of my horse Garry?"

  "He is in the best stall in the best stable."

  "And the big black?"

  "In the next stall in the same stable."

  "And Grudwyn's sword and armor? It's all mine now, you know—horse and arms—by the rules of combat."

  "All safe and at your disposal."

  "Gramercy, venerable sir. And will you tell me how soon I can be up and away?"

  "You have faith in me, young sir?" "Yes."

  "Good. No other physician in Christendom could answer your question truly, just as no other could have stopped the outflow of your life-blood as I did, but I can and will. Follow my instructions to the letter, young sir, and you will be on your feet on the tenth day from now, and on your horse on the twenty-fifth. No other honest doctor, nor even that old warlock Merlin with all his deviltry, could do as well by you."

  "I believe you," said Dinadan. "And I have, seemingly, even greater faith than yourself in your professional abilities. The diamonds and rubies which stud the scabbard and the hilt of Grudwyn's sword are worth a king's ransom: and they are all yours—less the trifling price of a croft and a cow for the goose girl—if you have me healed and horsed in half the time you mention."

  "You flatter me," smirked the doctor. "Not that I couldn't do it," he went on, staring into the flame of the nearer candle. "It's a temptation, I confess. With such wealth as that, I could extend my scientific researches even to the uttermost ends of the earth and take a fling at the night life of Camelot into the bargain. Ah, me! But my inborn honest nature protests; and so I must ask, in fairness to yourself, what's your hurry to be gone from here?"

  "Fear of the damosel," Dinadan mumbled, in a shamed voice. "Laugh if you will, but it's the truth. Damosels are my undoing. And there's one in this castle. The goose girl told me so. And she must be the most beautiful in the world—most of them are, God help me, and as false as beautiful—or Grudwyn would not have striven so madly and long to keep all other cavaliers out simply because he could not get in himself. But it was not to get in that I fought him and cut him down. It was for his arms and horse. But for my empty purse and pressing debts, I would have avoided the castle entirely upon learning that a damosel was involved in the adventure. But I was stabbed from behind, and here I am."

  The old man scratched his cheek thoughtfully and asked: "Don't you know the reward for delivering the castle from the murderous great rogue's tyranny?"

  "I've not been told it, but I can guess it," Dinadan sneered cynically. "The fair hand of the beautiful damosel— not to mention the false heart—in the holy bonds of matrimony."

  "Nay, your guess is wide and high, young sir. The reward is a fair manor of six farms and a tubful of silver crowns. The damosel's hand, and the five manors and castle that go with it, are for her own giving or keeping. And you are wrong about her heart too; and as for her beauty— in my opinion, her nose is a trifle too short for classical perfection. And perhaps the same can be said also of her upper lip."

  "That may well be—but, knowing my weakness, I fear she would appear perfect to me just the same. And now that I am in funds again, I care nothing for the six farms and tubful of crowns. So all my concern is to win clear of this castle with my horse and arms, and base Grudwyn's horse and body-armor, at the earliest possible moment, before worse befalls me."

  "Extraordinary! I´ll do my best to expedite your recovery from a wound which would have proved fatal but for me. Drink this now and relax."

  Dinadan slept again. When he opened his eyes, it was upon a beam of brightest sunshine which lanced through a narrow window and straight and level across the chamber to the arras on the opposite wall. He felt hungry and thought of broth, and even of hot pease-porridge flavored with a knuckle of ham; and even of a jack of ale. He looked as far to his right and left as he could without turning or lifting his head on his stiffly bandaged neck and shoulders. But that was not far, and he did not see anyone.

  "Are you there, venerable sir?" he asked. />
  "No, it's only me," said someone beyond his range of vision.

  "Hah!" he exclaimed. "The goose girl. What brings you here?"

  "You, sir," she murmured, and stepped into view, but not into the bright beam of sunshine. "The doctor sleeps, and I have been on watch since dawn."

  She was dressed—if you call it that—just as he had first and last seen her, and her yellow hair still hung in tangles.

  "Gramercy," he said. "But what of your geese?"

  "I don't know, sir. I work in the scullery now."

  "A scullery wench! But cheer up, my good girl, for with the diamonds and rubies from the scabbard and hilt of Grudwyn's sword I am now in a position to reward you for saving my life from the dastardly tricks of that knave and of his equally base squire. I shall establish you in a snug cottage with a fair meadow before it, an orchard of apples and cherries behind it, a cow in the meadow, chickens and beehives in the orchard, and geese too if you want them, and a servant to milk your cow and cut your honeycombs. All this shall be yours—and a modest fund in coin of the realm besides—forever and a day." "Gramercy, sir."

  "Nay, you have been a good friend to me. And you must have a garden, so that I may think of you sitting on a cushion, sewing a fine seam, and eating strawberries and honey and cream."

  "Gramercy. And what of yourself, sir? Shall you settle down in the manor which my lord will bestow upon you for freeing him of Grudwyn?"

  "Nay, God forbid! I have heard of that reward, from the doctor—six fat farms and a tubful of crowns to boot. But I´ll have nought to do with it. I did not fight Grudwyn to free the castle to the admittance of your damosel's cowardly suitors, but to possess myself of his arms and horse. I am a free knight-errant, and I intend to remain such, mauger my head! And the sooner I get out of here, the better I´ll like it."

  "Are you afraid of something? You, the strongest knight in the world?"

  "Gramercy, child. But I'm afraid, nevertheless. I'd liefer have ado with Sir Launcelot himself than so much as exchange glances with any damosel. So I'm afraid of meeting the damosel of this castle, even if she isn't a raving beauty."

  After a moment of hesitation, the goose girl whispered: "Why do you say that? Have you ever seen her?"

  "Nay, but I've heard that both her nose and upper lip are too short."

  "Too short for what?"

  "For beauty."

  "Who says so?"

  "Doctor Mendax."

  "That old fool!" she exclaimed, turning her head as if at a sound; and before he could utter a word of protest, she was gone from his restricted line of view.

  "Overprone to cry 'Fool!' at her betters, but a good girl at heart," he murmured.

  The physician appeared beside the bed half a minute later and inspected his tongue, counted his pulse, and felt his brow for fever.

  "How am I doing?" he asked.

  "Marvelously well, young sir. How do you feel?"

  "Hungry."

  "Excellent! Just what I had expected to hear from you, so I came prepared. This way with broth, Jynkyn."

  A fellow appeared bearing a steaming bowl with a horn spoon in it.

  "Hah!" exclaimed Dinadan, and he sat bolt upright.

  "Have a care!" cried the doctor, pressing him back on the pillow. "Would you reopen the wound and so undo all I have done? I´ll feed you. But I´ll risk the raising of your head and shoulders a trifle."

  He stuffed a second pillow beneath his patient's head and commenced feeding him generous spoonfuls.

  "Too thin for my taste," complained Dinadan.

  "Perhaps it will be thicker for supper; and maybe you can have a rasher tomorrow or the next day, so marvellously have I doctored you," soothed the ancient.

  When the bowl was empty, Dinadan asked for a horn of ale.

  "You shall have a full jack of the best with your supper tonight, young sir. Drink this now and relax."

  And Doctor Mendax pressed a cup to his patient's lips.

  * * *

  Dinadan was roused from his drugged sleep by hands on his shoulders, shaking him. He opened his eyes and saw the goose girl stooping over him.

  "What now?" he gasped. "Have a care! The wound! Where's the doctor?"

  "Gone—and all your diamonds and rubies with him!" she cried, still shaking him. "As for your grievous wound— fiddlesticks!"

  He gaped up at her, speechless with astonishment and confusion.

  "Are you quite a fool—except in mortal combat?" she went on in an angry and desperate voice. "That was not a stab, but only one more bang on your silly head. When you went backward over the squire, and he—I thought I had finished him—squirmed up with a knife in his hand, I swung my staff again, but missed him and hit you instead.

  But I got him with the next swing, the tricky knave! And you were brought into the castle, where Mendax bandaged your neck and shoulders, and that lie was invented. And here you are." "Why?"

  "To give him time to pry all the rubies and diamonds from the scabbard and hilt of Grudwyn's sword, it seems. So up and after him!"

  "Hasn't anyone gone after him?"

  "Nay, 'tis your business."

  "Nay, for I meant to divide them between you and him. What now of the croft and cow I promised you? Now I must reward you out of the price of Grudwyn's horse and armor, God help me! And what of them? Have I been robbed of them too?"

  "They are safe enough," she said, and released his shoulders and straightened her back and made as if to turn away, but changed her mind. "As safe as yourself," she continued in a queer, shaking voice. "Ill send Jynkyn to help you arm and take you to your horse. As for Grudwyn's horse and armor, here's their price in gold and silver." She flung a heavy purse down on the bed. "As for that croft and cow—and strawberries an' cream—the devil take them!"

  With that, she turned and ran to the door, but checked there for a moment and turned again and cried strangely, "Good luck to you—and thanks for nothing—you fool!" and disappeared.

  "God defend me!" exclaimed Dinadan. "What ails the wench? And where did she get this purse of money?"

  He sat up and tore and uncoiled ten yards of bandages from his neck and shoulders. "Fiddlesticks" was correct— there was no wound. At this discovery, he cursed Doctor Mendax for a rogue and himself for the fool of the world and leaped from the bed with such violence as to almost knock over the fellow Jynkyn, who had entered at that moment with an armful of garments of linen, leather, chain, and mail.

  "Is everyone in this place mad?" he asked, when Jynkyn was busy latching and buckling the iron plates.

  "I be a poor knave an' knows nothing, Yer Honor," said Jynkyn.

  Dinadan gave him a coin from the great purse and asked: "Why did Doctor Mendax rob me and run away?"

  "It was only for lack of full pockets he didn't cut an' run years ago, in my humble opinion. But me lord was too smart for him, an' kep' all the cash an' jewelry under lock an' key."

  "Why did your lord detain him? Of what use to him was that old fraud and thief?"

  "For to play at the game of chess, Yer Honor, that's wot. My lord bests everyone else without hardly puttin' his mind to it, but the doctor has given him many a shrewd tussle, especially since His Lordship promised him a prize of a pension and a palfrey if he ever checkmated him. That was seven year agone, come Candlemas; and the poor old gent never come nearer it than a stalemate."

  "So he turned thief," sneered Dinadan. "Anything to escape from this madhouse! I feel the same way myself."

  * * *

  The chamber was in darkness by now, but Dinadan was fully harnessed and in such haste to be gone before worse than robbery might befall him that even his hunger and thirst were forgotten. He followed Jynkyn's stumbling guidance down twisting stairs and along crooked passages, and at last out and into the stableyard. Garry nickered at his approach. The tall charger was soon bitted and saddled, and the knight mounted; and then Jynkyn led them, by dim and circuitous ways, to the front courtyard and thence across the drawbridge. Dinadan ga
ve him another coin.

  "Good fortune, an' safe roads to Yer Honor!" exclaimed Jynkyn, louting low.

  Dinadan returned the purse to his wallet and was about to move off, but a sudden thought struck him and checked him.

  "Where did that goose girl get the money to pay me for the horse and arms I won from Grudwyn?"

  "God fend yer innocence, sir," chuckled the fellow. "She be no more a goose girl nor the Queen of Sheby! She took to tanglin' her tresses an' paintin' her pretty face—an' everything else wot wasn't covered by that skimpy kirtle— with juices of yarbs an' berries, so's to win past Sir Grudwyn an' spy about for a champion."

  "D'ye mean she's a damosel?" "Ay, the Damosel Isbel herself."

  At that, Dinadan shivered from his shorn crest to his spurs, then cried out in wordless and bewildered consternation; and Garry thrust forward so suddenly as to almost overturn Jynkyn.

  "Who's mad now!" cried the staggered varlet disgustedly, for he had expected yet a third coin.

  But he received no answer, for horse and knight were already crashing and stumbling in the dark forest.

  Later, when Dinadan discovered a great wallet of meat, a leather bottle of ale, and even a bag of beans for Garry tied to his saddle, he sat on the moss a long time with his bewildered head clasped in both hands, and conflict and confusion in his heart.

  "So she provisioned me for the road," he concluded bitterly. "She made sure that hunger would not drive me back. Now I can trust no female under eighty years, not even goose girls, any more!"

  For to Achieve Your Adventure

  When he overtook the damosel, anon she said, "What doest thou here? Thou stinkest all of the kitchen. Thy clothes he bawdy of the grease and tallow that thou gainest in King Arthur's kitchen. Therefore turn again, bawdy kitchen page, for I know thee well. . . . What art thou but a luske and a turner of broches and a ladle-washer?"