Gawaine believed that Galahad was his daughter. But even if she was not, he accepted her as his daughter in his heart.
He thought that if he had not learned how to be Lancelot's friend, he would never have known how to be with Galahad.
The next day, they rode together through heather-covered mountains in the kind of terrain that Gawaine knew well and Galahad was seeing for the first time. Galahad paused to look at every stream and listen to every bird.
Gawaine watched Galahad as much as he could without being observed. He had never noticed before how well Galahad rode, what a fine voice she had, how pleasant her face was, though it was not exactly handsome. And that tiny beard—perhaps Galahad was not as much a woman as Lancelot?
They rode along peacefully enough until a figure on horseback suddenly erupted from behind some rocks. It was a dark-haired girl of about fifteen. She wore a gown of good wool and an embroidered cloak, but her hair was tangled and her eyes showed fear.
"Please help me hide!" she exclaimed, gasping for breath.
"Of course we'll help you," Galahad said instantly.
"How many men are pursuing you?" Gawaine asked, thinking of tactics.
The girl hesitated. "I'm not sure. Two at least." She looked as if she might fly off again at any moment.
Smiling what he thought was a reassuring smile, Gawaine put his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Don't worry, then. We can easily kill them."
"No!" The girl reached out frantically as if to stop him. "It's my father, and the man to whom he betrothed me."
Tensed for a fight, Gawaine relaxed. His concern for her began to abate. "You shouldn't flee from your father, child. What's the matter? Is the man he betrothed you to evil?"
She shook her head, and looked all the more eager to depart. "No, Royth's just ordinary. But I love another, and I'm running to him."
Gawaine hesitated. "Are you sure that's wise?" he began to say, but Galahad interjected, "Don't ride off. We'll help you. What's your name?"
"Keri."
Gawaine sucked in his breath when he heard that her name was the same as that of his first wife, the one he had loved. "And who's your father? And who is the man you want to marry?"
Her horse pawed the ground, and clearly the girl was just as restless. "My father is King Maelgon."
Gawaine groaned. He had just been at the caer of Maelgon of Gwynedd, visiting that peevish king to ensure his continued allegiance to Arthur. He hadn't seen the girl there.
"I love Uwaine, son of King Uriens of Rheged," she continued. "My father wants me to marry Royth, a son of Cador of Eburacum, because he is his father's eldest son, and wealthy, while Uwaine is King Uriens's youngest son, who won't inherit much. He wintered at my father's caer and we secretly pledged ourselves to each other."
"Why isn't he here fighting for you, then?" Gawaine asked, trying not to sound harsh. Uwaine was a warrior sworn to Arthur, but he was usually off somewhere in the West or the North.
"He broke his arm in a hunting accident. He cannot fight. But he's riding even now to meet me." Again, Keri surveyed the rocks around her and looked as if she wanted to flee.
"Why must these things depend on fighting?" Galahad exclaimed. "Anyone could be injured at a time when he is challenged."
"Maelgon is an important subject king of Arthur's," Gawaine began, but there was no point in further describing Maelgon because a large, gray-bearded man and a somewhat slimmer young one rode into view.
"Father!" Keri cried in a sinking voice.
"What do you mean by running away?" her father demanded, scrutinizing her with hawk-like eyes. "I came only with Royth so no one else would know that you had done such a thing. And what are you doing in such company? Gawaine, why are you here? There was a good reason why I didn't introduce my daughter to you. You've always said you'd never marry any of my daughters." Maelgon looked tense and ready to fight, as did the young man accompanying him. The king tried to ride up to his daughter, but Gawaine and Galahad blocked the way. Maelgon glared at them.
"I may not be spotless, but young Galahad is," Gawaine replied in a tone that was meant to be calming. "We have just encountered your daughter. Why must she seek help in escaping your orders?"
"She's just a foolish girl, too young to know what she thinks," Maelgon began.
"And therefore too young to marry," Galahad piped in.
Maelgon turned his glare on Galahad. "Royth here is a fine young man. I am not forcing my daughter to marry some brute, am I, Keri?"
"No, Father, but I want to marry Uwaine," she said, trembling a little but speaking boldly.
Her father and Royth glared at her. Gawaine noticed that there was no tenderness in Royth's face, though the young man was not bad-looking.
"Is there some great objection to Uwaine?" Gawaine asked, mindful that Galahad was watching him. "Is he cruel, or a wastrel?"
Maelgon's face grew redder. "Why must I answer to you? I'm within my rights in marrying my daughter to whom I choose. There's nothing the matter with Uwaine, but Royth will inherit much more."
"Must you sell your daughter to the highest bidder?" Gawaine demanded, surprising himself with his anger. "Do you want his gold so badly? You should help your child, not seek to profit from her." Did Maelgon have no idea how precious a daughter was? Although Gawaine had believed that Galahad was his daughter for only a short time, he shivered at the thought that he could have done such a thing to her.
"How dare you interfere with us!" exclaimed Royth, who had not tried to say one word to Keri.
But Maelgon just put his hand on his sword, and said, "I shall complain to King Arthur about this. You know that I have the right to take my daughter home. Come, Keri, you must obey me."
Keri just shook her head.
Gawaine looked at her, then at her father, and then at Galahad. "I would like to help Keri, but I don't know that we can, if her father can't be persuaded," he admitted.
Maelgon gloated at these words. "Come along, daughter," he said in a milder tone. "Royth and Uwaine are both fine young men. The only difference is that she thinks she prefers one of them. That's no reason to fight."
"Yes, it is," Galahad cried, advancing on Maelgon. "I won't let you take her." The young warrior drew her sword from its scabbard.
In an instant, Maelgon drew his sword, and Royth did likewise. They both attacked Galahad.
With the first swipe of his sword, Maelgon slightly cut Galahad's cheek. "You'll find that no man fights so fiercely as when he's fighting for his daughter," he snarled.
The flat side of Gawaine's sword knocked Maelgon off his horse, and Gawaine flung himself on the ground to fight him. "You fight the young one, I'll fight the older," he called to Galahad.
Keeping an eye on Galahad and seeing that she easily knocked Royth's sword out of his hand, Gawaine beat Maelgon into the ground and stood over him.
"Don't kill him, Gawaine!" Galahad cried out.
Recalled from his anger that Maelgon had cut Galahad, Gawaine put up his sword and demanded, "Go home with this young man, and leave your daughter to marry whom she wishes."
"Why, she's gone!" Maelgon exclaimed. "She didn't even stay to see whether I survived the fight."
They all looked at the place where Keri had been, and sure enough, only rocks and bushes were there.
"Don't pursue her," Gawaine demanded, continuing to speak as he had never dared speak to a king before. Well, he was a king's son himself.
Maelgon, bruised and bleeding from a cut on his head, staggered up, helped by Royth. "I shall complain to King Arthur. If you tarry in Gwynned, I'll have you seized and put in chains," he threatened in parting.
Gawaine and Galahad rode off in the direction that they thought Keri had taken.
Looking downhill at the trail below them, Galahad said, "There she is, and Uwaine is with her."
A handsome, brown-haired warrior with a bandaged right arm rode beside the girl.
"Why, he must have been there all the time, waiting
in hiding. He's a damned coward," Gawaine grumbled.
"But his right arm is broken," Galahad protested.
"That wouldn't have kept me from a fight, if it was for a girl I loved."
"Or for any other reason, considering how much you like to fight," Galahad observed.
But Gawaine shook with indignation. Uwaine didn't deserve the brave girl who had run away for his sake.
They forced their horses to go faster until they caught up with the young couple.
"Your father is not much hurt, but he won't pursue you until he gets more men to help him," Galahad said to Keri.
"Thank you," she said, smiling at them, particularly Galahad.
"See that you marry her," Gawaine ordered Uwaine, with a notable lack of warmth.
"We're secretly married already," Keri told them, "and I am with child." She blushed a little. "I was afraid to tell my father that."
"Well, you don't have to ride so fast now. Just keep on at a steady pace. We'll watch and make sure that you aren't followed," Gawaine said, speaking only to Keri. Uwaine he dismissed as a poltroon.
Soon, Galahad and Gawaine were riding alone again on the mountain rocks.
"She's too young to be married and have a child!" Galahad exclaimed.
Gawaine nodded. He was used to seeing girls marry at that age, but now the thought that Galahad might have been married for years and have her arms full of children disturbed him. "Yes, she is, but there's no help for it. At least she's with a man she wants, and that may make her happy. I hope she survives the child-bearing. My first wife, who also was named Keri, died in childbed, as many women do. So did my second wife."
"I'm glad I don't have a life like that!" Galahad said with considerable fervor.
"I'm also glad that you don't," Gawaine replied, trying to keep his voice less fervent.
But Galahad brightened, put a cloth to her cheek, and said, "I have my first battle scar now. Isn't it splendid? Do you think it will last? Did I fight well?"
Gawaine surveyed the cut on Galahad's cheek. "Wonderful. You'll probably have a scratch. You fought bravely, and I'm proud of you. But if you fight every father who tries to marry his daughter to a man she doesn't like, I fear that your own life will be very short."
Galahad sighed.
"I know. I suppose I can't fight every injustice. I know that I don't fight as brilliantly as Lancelot. I'm glad you were with me this time."
"So am I," was all that Gawaine said. But that seemed too curt, so he added, "You are the bravest warrior in the world."
Galahad's mouth opened wide. "But Lancelot is the greatest warrior in the world."
"That's true. That's why you're even braver than Lancelot, because you are a good fighter, but not the greatest. Holding your seat at the round table is therefore even more of a challenge. It is a perilously held seat," Gawaine said, trying to convey what he meant without directly saying that he knew Galahad was a woman.
Galahad looked at Gawaine sheepishly. "Actually, ever since Lionel died in the tournament I have been thinking that I don't want to kill anyone. Would you think me a coward if I didn't spend my life as a fighter like you and Lancelot?"
In a voice that strove to keep out relief, Gawaine replied, "Of course not. You have good reasons. Fight or don't fight as you wish." He had no desire to see his daughter cut down in a fight.
Galahad's eyes widened. "I thought you would look down on a young man with a warrior's training who didn't want to fight. You were hard on Uwaine just now."
"Oh, no, you misjudge me. I would never think you a coward. I can see that you're very brave." He kept himself from saying, "Too much so."
They camped on another heather-covered mountain. To Gawaine, it seemed so fair that the heather might as well be blooming, though it would not for another month or so. The ground was cold and hard, but to Gawaine it felt better than the softest cushions. Being with Galahad was more wonderful than resting in the finest caer.
Twilight came, and they gathered sticks and built a fire.
After they had eaten stale bannock, Gawaine told a story about a woman who had rushed between her lover and a madman and thus saved her lover's life.
"What a woman!" Galahad said admiringly, brushing crumbs from her lap. Her face shone in the light from their small fire. An owl hooted.
"You know her, in fact. It was Guinevere."
"Queen Guinevere! I knew she was very clever, but I didn't know she was that brave."
"She loves Lancelot greatly. I hope that you will find a lady who loves you as much." And who isn't married to someone else, Gawaine thought. He tried to assume an innocent look, or at any rate as innocent a look as it was possible for him to assume. He looked at the sky and pretended to have a great interest in the stars.
He cautioned, "Be careful when you ride with Lancelot, for he still has many fears from the war and other horrors he has seen. Watch out for him."
"I had heard rumors that he was sometimes fearful, but I didn't believe it. Perhaps everyone is afraid of something. What are you afraid of, Gawaine?" Galahad dared to ask.
"Oh, of you, I suppose," Gawaine replied, laughing and cuffing the young warrior lightly on the shoulder. It was true. He feared that Galahad might not want him for a father, but would prefer to think herself Arthur's child.
Galahad howled at what seemed like a jest.
Gawaine slept fitfully that night, and dreamed of the day when he was seventeen, and had battled his way into a town at the head of the warband that supported his father, King Lot of Lothian, over Arthur for High King of Britain.
He had soon found his father raping a young girl, and inviting him to join in with the many men who were raping girls. In the dream, Gawaine saw the girl's face and heard her scream as clearly as he had so many years before. His father yelled at him, "I didn't know my son pissed squatting," because Gawaine wouldn't grab a girl.
He woke, remembering how he had left his father that very day to fight on Arthur's side. His brother Agravaine had stayed with Lot—and no doubt had done what Lot was doing.
Some months later, Agravaine had followed Gawaine, and he had asked Arthur to make his brother welcome, which Arthur graciously had. But Gawaine was never sure why Agravaine had come—because he had missed his older brother? Because he had guessed that Arthur was going to win? Gawaine had doubted that it was for the same reason that he had.
Gawaine had drunk little on this journey with Galahad, but his head hurt with the memories. Sleep was impossible.
He remembered another, even crueler war. He had seen the burned Saxon town, the bodies of disemboweled women, and been distressed that Agravaine defended the men who raped and killed them. Gawaine even imagined that Agravaine might have done the same, if he had had the chance. Why did Agravaine have no heart?
Perhaps it was his fault for not getting Agravaine away from that other town long before. How could Agravaine not learn from his own father? Knowing how a man could get used to killing other men, Gawaine guessed that men could get used to women screaming and struggling, and even want it.
Lancelot had once thought ill of him for defending the use of camp followers. No doubt she still did. True, taking along camp followers was not pretty, but what he had seen seemed so much worse, and he was sure that warring men would do whatever they wanted to get women.
He scarcely noticed the dawn.
Galahad was clattering about, humming cheerfully, feeding and patting the horses.
Feeling a hundred years old, Gawaine pulled himself up and walked over to join Galahad.
"I can feed your horse, too, Gawaine. Why, you look grim as a ghost. Didn't you sleep? Are you ill? What's the matter?" Galahad's face wore a look of concern.
He saw that he had to tell Galahad the things that he least wanted to relate.
"Let's not ride off just now. Sit down and listen to me." He slumped down on a stone and declined the barley bannock that Galahad offered. Giving Galahad a chance to break fast, Gawaine thought about what he w
ould say before he lost the nerve.
"Why so solemn?" Galahad asked, munching, looking around at the pipits that were calling not far from them and the hawk that soared overhead.
"It is well that you don't want to fight," Gawaine began, hearing how heavy his voice was, "for men too easily move from fighting to other things." He told the tale of how he had left his father's side and gone to Arthur's, a story that he had never told anyone else but Arthur and never would.
Galahad paled and dropped the bannock on the ground, but she said only, "It must have been hard to leave your father. I'm glad that my father isn't like that."
If he had been, he could never have dared to tell her.
"And you aren't, either," Galahad added.
Gawaine felt a pang of envy for Arthur, the first he had ever had, because Galahad believed that she was his daughter. But there was only so much that he could tell. "I have done many things in my life, but not like that." He wanted her to know that he was better than his father had been. It mattered more than anything that Galahad never judged him harshly.
"Of course not. I'm sure that none of King Arthur's men would have."
Galahad sounded just as innocent as Lancelot had been when young, which was good, in its way, but too dangerous.
"Some have." And he told about what had happened to the Saxon women, and said that some of Arthur's men, as well as the lesser kings' men, might have had a part in it. He also reminded Galahad that Sangremore had raped a Saxon thane's daughter.
Galahad's face finally was as sick as Gawaine felt, and it tore his heart to see it so. He wanted the expression in her blue eyes to always be merry.
"Stay away from warring men, Galahad," he added. "For if you do not do what they do, it might anger them."
Galahad nodded. "I see. You were right to tell me, but could we ride now? I'm aching to move."
So was he. Even more restless than the horses, they were soon away, galloping, and Gawaine wished that he could take his daughter to another world where such things never happened.
Eagles swooped in the air over the mountain passes, and they stopped to watch the majestic birds. Gawaine and Galahad made a relaxed journey, vaguely east, but it did not matter where. Gawaine pointed out all of the mountain wildflowers that Galahad did not know, and told how many of them were tinier versions of flowers that grew at lower elevations.
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