by KM Shea
Merlin elbowed Britt and shook his head.
“You’ve got to be jok—jesting. Griflet, you are young and untried. Approaching a knight like this sable guy is no small matter. If his apple tree is heavily laden with shields, it implies he is an excellent fighter. You haven’t even beaten Ywain yet. You are not ready,” Britt said to both Merlin and Griflet.
“If you have any affection for me at all, you will grant me this boon,” Griflet said.
“Then it is certainly a good thing for you that at this moment I don’t have any affection for you. Ow!” Britt said when Merlin elbowed her again. “What is it?” she hissed to the enchanter.
“Have you forgotten that young Griflet is the cousin of your dear Sir Bedivere?” Merlin said, dragging Britt aside.
“Bother, everyone is related to everyone in Camelot! And that doesn’t change my decision.”
“Then why won’t you knight him?”
“Because he’s going to get himself killed.”
“First of all, that doesn’t matter. His death won’t be on your hands. He’s responsible for his own fool head. The greater issue here is that he is related to Sir Bedivere. If Sir Bedivere discovers you refused to knight his young cousin, he will feel personally slighted.”
“Sir Bedivere is sitting in Morgause’s pocket right now. He’s not going to react at all.”
“Not now, but when Morgause leaves—because she will leave—he will hear about it.”
Britt pinched the bridge of her nose. “Why is it a bigger deal if someone feels slighted or offended than if they die?”
“Griflet won’t die. You are right—he’s too green and inexperienced to be knighted if it weren’t for his family relations. However, this sable chap won’t kill him. He’s only interested in collecting shields. Disarming Griflet will be child’s play for him; he won’t even have to hurt him,” Merlin said.
“I’m still against this,” Britt said.
“I know, but I’m not giving you a choice.”
Britt turned back to Griflet. “Very well. I shall knight you, but know that in my heart, I still have misgivings, and I think you are ill-equipped for this adventure,” Britt said, wagging a finger at Griflet.
“Thank you, My Lord,” Griflet said, throwing himself at Britt’s feet.
The young man kept vigil all night in a tiny chapel they found in the woods before receiving the Sacrament from the priest that kept the chapel. He was then reluctantly knighted by Britt.
Just as Griflet mounted his charge and rode off, singing like a loon and completely oblivious of the danger of combat, Sir Myles died.
The royal party stayed in the meadow—with Merlin’s permission of course—instead of making the journey home.
Britt nervously paced as Merlin plotted for the future with a less-jolly-than-usual Sir Ector. Ywain lurked in Britt’s shadow, watching her with wide eyes.
They didn’t hear from Griflet until it was late in the evening and the sky was dusty pink.
Griflet rode into the meadow, slumping across his horse to keep himself seated. His shield was gone; his new armor was dusty and dented, and based on the red smears on some of his armor, Britt had a sinking suspicion he was wounded.
“Get him off that horse and start seeing to his wounds,” Britt shouted before glowering at Merlin. “I believe your words were ‘he won’t even have to hurt Griflet.’ If he dies, I will never listen to your advice pertaining to my knights again,” she spat. Her anger was so fierce, it seemed to crackle in the air, and everyone kept a wide berth from her as she paced in the meadow.
In the middle of the night, Sir Ector came and put a hand on Britt’s shoulders. “He’ll live. He wasn’t badly wounded—although I’m not certain his pride will ever recover. He wishes to speak to you, but he’s sleeping now, so it would be best if you didn’t approach him until morning.”
Britt nodded.
“Try to get some sleep, son,” Sir Ector advised before he waddled away.
When the sun first cast its morning light in the sky, Britt was at Griflet’s bedside. The young knight had woken early, grimacing with pain.
After swallowing a mouthful of water, Griflet waved away a soldier who was trying to change his bandages. “I should have listened to you, My Lord. I will not doubt your judgment again.”
Britt, who had been looking very stormy and flint faced, softened and spared Griflet a sliver of a smile. “I am glad the battle did not cost you your life. What happened?” Britt asked as Merlin joined her at Griflet’s bedside.
“I found the three beautiful damsels Sir Myles’ squire described,” Griflet started. “With great reluctance, they told me in what direction I should ride in to find the Sable Knight. I found the apple tree filled with shields, and I smote the hanging shield that did indeed read ‘whoso smiteth this shield doth so at his peril.’ When I hit it, the Sable Knight came riding out of a nearby castle. We charged each other with spears. Mine shattered, but the Sable Knight’s hit true and swung me from my charger. After the Sable Knight took my shield and hung it on the apple tree, I managed to ride back here.”
Britt frowned—she didn’t recall any mention of three ladies or a shield-sign, but as she had only heard the summary of the story it wasn’t surprising—before she looked to Merlin.
The enchanter lifted his eyebrows and said to Britt, “The spear is not your weapon.”
“It doesn’t matter. Roen will keep me out of harm’s reach until I can hit him with my sword. Roen did that in the battle against Lot and his allies; he will do it again. Besides, I would like to speak with this knight.”
Merlin reached for a saddle bag resting on his feet. “I expected as much. As long as I accompany you, I see no reason not to. Let us depart.”
“My Lord?” Griflet said.
Britt nodded to Griflet before she raised her voice so most of those in the camp could hear her. “This Sable Knight must be confronted. I will ride with Merlin to seek him out and punish him for his unjust actions.”
The men cheered, and Griflet blushed bright red. “Um, My Lord, about his unjust actions...”
“Quiet ye wee lad,” one of the more burly guards who usually attended to Britt said as he squatted down next to Griflet’s pallet. “It’s time ye change yer bandages. Don’t ye be batting at me,” the guard said before placing his hand on Griflet’s chest and pushing the knight back in the bed.
Britt dressed in chain mail—ignoring the snide remarks Merlin made about her lack of armor—and buckled some spare supplies to Roen before mounting up. The black gelding pawed as the sun crept high enough in the sky to cast rays of light in the meadow.
“Take care, and God go with you,” Sir Ector said.
Britt smiled and took up Roen’s reins in one hand before she waved with the other. “Be safe,” she wished before she and Merlin—astride his leggy, twiggy horse—cantered out of the meadow.
Griflet watched Britt go—her chain mail and the gold flourishes on Roen’s tack sparkling in the morning light. She was unaware of it, but she was an inspiring image with her gleaming blonde hair and her genteel faerie features set in a look of determination.
Griflet glanced at Ywain, who sat by him. “I see now why you love him so,” he said, his voice choked.
Ywain nodded. “He makes you want to be a better person and to see the world the way he does. Our King, he’s a great man.”
Griflet blinked back tears. “He is.”
Merlin filled Britt in on the finer details of the account Sir Myles’ squire gave as they rode through the forest.
“So, we’re looking for three damsels who can direct us to the Sable Knight?” Britt asked at mid-morning.
“We are, and I believe we may be near.”
“What makes you say that?”
Merlin held a finger up in the air. “Listen.”
Through the forest echoed the faint pluck of music, laughter, and chattering. The air was flavored with the smell of smoked meat, and if Britt squinted, she cou
ld see pieces of colorful tents through the trees.
“I thought we were looking for three girls, not a party in the middle of the forest,” Britt said as she fixed the way her helm sat on her head.
“Think, why would three helpless ladies be alone in the woods? They obviously were a part of a bigger party. Come, someone in this procession likely knows the location of the Sable Knight.”
They were so close to the grand party that Britt could make out a few of the tents and pitched pavilions when Merlin and Britt were accosted by a crowd of ladies.
There were five or six of them, all gaily dressed with braided hair and crowns of flowers on their heads. They whispered and giggled to each other as they watched Merlin and Britt.
Britt sighed at the attention and was glad her helm hid her face.
“Ladies,” Merlin said, managing a half bow from his saddle. “We seek out news of the Sable Knight. It was told to us that a party of damsels whose beauty outshone the stars could set us in the right direction. Now that we have finally found you, would you be so kind as to share the desired information?”
Britt rolled her eyes as Roen itched his kneecap with his muzzle.
The girls giggled louder than ever.
“The Sable Knight? Isn’t that—”
“Oh, yes, it is!”
“We passed his castle not a week ago before we camped here, didn’t we?”
“We did. I’ve already told two knights where to find him.”
A girl with reddish-blonde hair cleared her throat and smiled her prettiest smile at Merlin. The rest of her companions fell silent as she spoke. “The Sable Knight can be found south east from here, in that direction,” she said, thrusting her finger in front of her. “Be careful, sir. He is a splendid warrior. I have never heard of his defeat,” she said fluttering her lashes at Merlin.
Merlin handled her with a charm that was less than the choking kind he used with Nymue. “We thank you, fair maiden. Your beauty and your intelligence cannot be described,” he said before turning his horse to catch up with Britt—who was already riding off in the direction the girl had indicated.
The girls squealed and ran in a ring around the reddish-blonde haired girl, laughing and complimenting her as Britt and Merlin disappeared in the trees.
“I didn’t peg you as an amorous lover of women. It appears I am wrong,” Britt said.
Merlin scoffed. “Hardly. Do you really think I would be so reverential to such an empty headed-girl without reason? That was Lady Guinevere of Camelgrance, daughter of King Leodegrance.”
“What?” Britt halted Roen.
“The red head. She’s Leodegrance’s daughter.”
“What did you say her name was?”
“Guinevere. Arthur, are you alright?” Merlin asked as Britt almost toppled from her saddle.
Guinevere. The unfaithful queen of England, the love of Arthur’s life who ruined him by committing adultery with his best friend, Lancelot.
“She must be touring the countryside while her father is at war. Perhaps we should ask her to come to Camelot,” Merlin said.
Britt wheeled Roen in front of Merlin’s horse with an expertise even Merlin didn’t know she possessed. The black gelding snorted and bumped Merlin’s mount before throwing his head. His rider was scarcely more controlled. “Over my dead body,” she said before she started off again.
“Well,” Merlin blinked, cueing his horse to follow.
“How do you know she is Guinevere?” Britt asked.
“The tents were Leodegrance’s colors, and some of his flags flew from the top poles. Guinevere was wearing the finest dress, and her sash had her father’s symbol stitched to it,” Merlin explained. “Is something wrong?”
“No.”
“You’re acting rather oddly—even more so than usual.”
“It’s fine. Let’s find this Sable Knight.”
Britt and Merlin rode in the direction Guinevere had indicated for an hour. Just as Britt’s butt was starting to hurt, they found the well-described apple tree whose branches groaned under the weight of countless shields.
Beyond the apple tree was a green, trimmed lawn above which loomed a great castle with a large tower and impressive walls.
Britt tried to snap her fingers with her leather gloves on. “This guy. This guy must be the cursed individual who declared people have to have perfectly mowed yards and lawns.”
Merlin frowned. “What are you talking about? That’s a jousting field.”
“Whatever,” Britt said as Roen picked his way through a stream before striding up to a shield posted by the apple tree. Britt studied the writing on the shield for a moment. “Merlin, I can’t read a word of this. What does it say?”
“Whoso smiteth this shield doeth so at his peril,” Merlin quoted. “We have come to the right place.”
“May I?” Britt asked, reaching for a hammer that was chained to the sign-shield.
“At your leisure,” Merlin said.
Britt took the mallet and pounded the shield a few times before she dropped the hammer and nudged Roen away from it. “Talk about ridiculous. He has a convenient hammer hanging from the warning shield? This guy is looking for fights.”
The sound echoed across the hateful lawn/jousting field, and in no time at all, the castle gates opened. Out rode a giant knight covered in pitch-black armor. His horse was black, and the horse’s tack was black as well.
Britt scratched her neck as she watched the knight and his charger approach in a controlled, confident prance.
“Hail, Sir Knight,” the black knight said when he drew near. “Was it you smiteth my shield—though the warning says not to?”
“Wait, you’re the Sable Knight?” Britt asked.
“I have been called that,” the knight acknowledged. His voice was the deep thrum of thunder muffled by his metal helm.
“But your armor is black,” Britt said.
“Yes,” the knight said.
“But everyone calls you the Sable Knight,” Britt said.
“Yes,” the knight said, sounding as though he thought Britt was rather stupid.
“What were you expecting?” Merlin asked.
“Well, sable, right? Doesn’t that usually mean fur? Or like, Sable collies are brown and white. You don’t have a scrap of fur or brown on you,” Britt said.
“Sable also means black in terms of heraldry,” Merlin dryly said.
“What? How is that—never mind. So why don’t you go by the name the Black Knight?” Britt asked.
The large knight turned his snorting horse in a circle. “The Black Knight sounds like a rogue name.”
“And attacking people with spears and stealing their shields is not a rogue activity?”
The Sable Knight grumbled. “My name matters not! You have struck my shield, which does me a grave discourtesy. In return, I shall take your shield and hang it upon yon apple tree. If you refuse, I will fight you until I can rip it from your feeble fingers.”
Britt rolled her eyes and plucked her shield off Roen’s rump and tossed it on the ground. “Fine, there you go. So, Sable Knight. That’s misleading. I really think you ought to change it.”
The Sable Knight stared at Britt’s shield on the ground.
Merlin covered his mouth with the inside of his elbow to stifle his laughter.
“For that matter, you should stop stealing knight’s shields. Your apple tree looks like it’s going to break from all the weight, and pretty soon the shields are going to get rusty. Not to mention, it looks gaudy,” Britt continued.
“Don’t you want to fight to defend your shield?” the Sable Knight asked.
“My shield? No, not really. That one clangs loudly when someone hits it; that’s why I brought it with me,” Britt said.
“Oh,” the Sable Knight drooped.
“But I will fight you for another reason. You killed Sir Myles, and I never look kindly on slaying a fellow man for no reason, and you roughed up one of my knights.”
&n
bsp; “What was his name?” the Sable Knight asked, sounding almost conversational.
“Sir Griflet.”
“I can’t say I’ve heard of him.”
“He’s a young knight with an appalling sword stance and is untried in almost all forms of combat,” Britt said.
“He has a flea-bitten gray horse,” Merlin piped in.
“Oh, that young greenhorn,” the Sable Knight said. “The one I tossed from his horse yesterday. I tried to talk him out of it. Anyone could see the lad barely had the basics of combat down. He refused for some time, so I saw no other way but to thrash him. I set him back on his horse when it was all over, though.”
Britt blinked. “He didn’t mention that part of the story.”
“I do not care what others say of me. What matters is that you said you will fight me. Let us cross arms!” the Sable Knight said before wheeling his horse in a circle and charging at Britt.
Britt whipped Excalibur from its scabbard, her heart pounding in her throat as Roen tensed beneath her.
Merlin swooped in and swung his staff at the Sable Knight’s head like a baseball player. The large knight fell off his horse like a chopped tree and lay stunned for a moment.
“Merlin!” Britt said.
“He’s fine,” Merlin insisted. “You are not skilled at mounted combat, and I’m not going to let you risk your foolish neck for an equally foolish young knight. He’s dismounted, so now you can fight him properly. I won’t step in, I promise,” Merlin said as Britt dismounted Roen and slowly approached the Sable Knight, who was lumbering to his feet.
“That was hardly fair,” the Sable Knight said.
“I apologize. Do you still find yourself smarting for a fight?” Britt asked, elegantly twirling Excalibur.
The Sable Knight tossed his spear away and unsheathed his sword. “If the fellow on the spindly horse stays out of it.”
“He will,” Britt said, her eyes glittering as she watched the knight shift his stance.
“Then the answer is yes,” the Sable Knight said before he ran at Britt, roaring like a fierce animal. He swung his sword at Britt in a horizontal chop. Britt ducked under the blow and rammed her shoulder into the knight’s belly, her feet firmly planted.