"Very fond," Lancelot said. "My life was dark as a prison cell until he came to me. And he gave me this beautiful gown to cover me." She stroked the sleeve as if delighted with its fine texture.
Gawaine raised his eyebrows and dropped his voice. "What? Have you been imprisoned? And are you fleeing in disguise?"
"Even so."
"What a pity that my friend Lancelot isn't here," Gawaine said in a more normal tone, "for he no doubt knows a great deal about the matters we have been discussing. He never misses a chance for a bawdy jest." He ate a bite of the meat pie.
"Lancelot is well known for his feats in the bedchamber."
"Indeed, he must be much more skilled than that braggart, Gawaine ap Lot," Lancelot said, sipping her mead and gesturing to Drian to let her do the talking.
"Have you had the pleasure of comparing their skills, my lady?" Gawaine asked, stroking his beard. "That would no doubt be fascinating."
"Fascinating to you, perhaps, but for me as dull as Gawaine's blade," Lancelot replied, fussing with her veil, which had slipped slightly.
"True, Gawaine's blade is not sharp but gentle, my lady," he said, finishing the meat pie.
"Gentle because like unleavened bread it cannot rise," Lancelot said. She thought perhaps it was better not to drink any more. She saw that Drian was clutching her cup as if it were someone's throat, and she could guess whose.
"Doubtless my friend Lancelot is a better swordsman," Gawaine replied. "But do you know that Lancelot prefers men to women?"
"He does not!" Lancelot was unable to control her irritation.
"Did someone speak of Lancelot of the Lake?" asked a warrior who had just come in the tavern with four companions. They wore the badge of King Uriens.
"I did," Gawaine said.
Lancelot looked down, as if in modesty, at her mead cup. She was glad that the tavern was dark.
"We're looking for him. He stole something from King Uriens, and we mean to get it back. Have you seen him?"
"I haven't seen Lancelot the warrior in many days," Gawaine told them.
"What about you?" The leader, a graying man perhaps as old as Gawaine, stared at Drian. "Weren't you the harper who played at Uriens's caer the other day?"
"Impossible. He's come from Eburacum with me," Gawaine told the man.
"What do you mean to do with Lancelot if you find him?" Drian asked, frowning.
"We'll do whatever we have to do to get back what he stole," said the man grimly, going off with his companions to drink.
Lancelot spoke in a whisper. "What I took from Uriens was Arthur's sword."
"Uriens stole it?"
Gawaine also tried to speak quietly, no easy thing for his loud voice. "And now they're trying to steal it back?"
Lancelot nodded.
"We could take them, or should we try to settle this without fighting?" Gawaine asked Lancelot.
"Without fighting. They're only doing what their king ordered. I don't want to risk killing any of them unless we have to."
"Agreed." Gawaine finished his mead in one gulp.
"Let me buy you a drink, noble warriors," Gawaine said to the men, moving to their table. His voice was loud enough for Lancelot to hear easily.
Uriens's warriors smiled and thanked him.
"If you want to find Lancelot, you're going the wrong way." Gawaine put his hand on the leader's shoulder. "I saw him heading towards Eburacum."
The leader pulled back. "Why would he go there? Surely he's headed to Camelot."
"But if Lancelot has stolen something from King Uriens, perhaps he wants it for himself," Gawaine said. "Then he might not go to Camelot."
The man scrutinized him.
"You're a tall man with a red beard," he said, as if he had just noticed."Aren't you Gawaine ap Lot, and a friend of Lancelot's?"
Gawaine shook his head. "No, I'm his brother Agravaine ap Lot, and I'm not overly fond of Lancelot of the Lake. It bothers me that people say Lancelot is as good a fighter as Gawaine, which isn't at all true. Gawaine seems to like Lancelot even better than his own brothers, and that's not right."
Lancelot smiled. No doubt Gawaine described Agravaine's feelings pretty well.
"Are you certain you saw Lancelot on the road to Eburacum, Lord Agravaine?" the man asked.
"It's important to King Uriens that we find him, and the king will be angry if we don't."
Gawaine shrugged. "Then I am sorry for you, because King Arthur will be very angry if any harm comes to Lancelot. For some reason that I don't understand, Lancelot is a favorite with my cousin, the High King. I think Arthur would draw and quarter anyone who injured Lancelot."
Uriens's men were watching Gawaine closely. One of them choked on his mead. Another squirmed.
"And that's not to speak of what my brother would do," Gawaine continued, taking a swig of the mead that he was sharing with them. "Gawaine would surely pursue to ends of the earth any man who injured Lancelot, and would kill him as painfully as possible. Not in a fight, mind you, but something much worse. But, of course, all you care about is doing your duty," he said with a smile. "You would not pay heed to any words that might distract you from it."
He nodded to them and went to rejoin Lancelot and Drian.
Grinning at Drian, Gawaine said cheerfully, "Your wife is a notorious wanton. She's slept near hundreds of soldiers."
Lancelot restrained her laughter.
Drian glowered. "I'd like to fight you."
"Ah, but now I won't fight you," Gawaine replied, gloating, and finished his mead. He gestured to get more.
"We've had enough to drink," Lancelot said, gesturing to the tavern-keeper not to bring any more. "We should leave now."
"Whatever the lady wants." Gawaine bowed his head to her.
The three rode away together, though Drian and Gawaine avoided looking at each other. Lancelot told how she had been captured and Drian had helped her escape. They lingered behind some trees on the road to see what direction Uriens's men would take, and were pleased to see they took the road to Eburacum.
"They believed what you told them," Drian said to Gawaine. "How gullible."
"Not at all. The leader knew exactly who I was – probably, who we all were – and heeded my warning." Gawaine grinned. "He just wanted to be able to halt the search without letting his men know that's what he was doing. He too carefully avoided looking at Lancelot. Men don't try so hard to keep from looking at a handsome woman. The answer is that he thought you were a handsome man posing as a woman."
Lancelot made a disgusted sound. "Perhaps he never was eager to carry out Uriens's bidding. There could be loyalty to King Arthur even in Rheged."
The three then turned south, towards Camelot. The afternoon was warmer than the morning had promised.
Lancelot eyed a patch of trees.
"I think we've avoided Uriens's men, so I'll go and get out of this wretched gown. It's hard to ride properly in it."
"I'll guard you," Drian said, casting a wary glance at Gawaine.
Gawaine's face reddened. "Oh, guard her by all means. I've been Lance's friend for a dozen years. How long have you known her?"
"Thank you for your concern, Drian, but I have no need to be guarded from Gawaine," Lancelot told her. She went behind the trees and changed her clothes as quickly as possible so as not to leave the hostile two alone together for long.
She rejoined them, and they rode mostly in silence.
After a short time, Gawaine turned to Drian. "Now will you tell me where I can find my cousin Catra so I can be certain that all is well with her?"
Drian appeared to freeze to statue-like rigidity. "No."
Gawaine sighed with exasperation. "I thought not. Don't you see that I challenged you to fight because you wouldn't tell me what happened to her? When you chose to face death rather than tell me, I thought you had done something terrible to her. Will you tell Lancelot where she is? Lancelot, if Drian will tell you how to find my cousin, would you please go sometime in th
e next few months and see if she is in a good place?"
"Willingly," Lancelot said, thinking Drian was wrong not to trust Gawaine, but concerned about the girl.
"Of course, I'll tell Lancelot." Drian did not smile. The two of them rode aside and Drian told her where Catra was.
"Swear you won't tell him."
"I won't, but such a promise is unnecessary."
Drian's hands were fists clutching her horse's reins.
"If Gawaine was going to kill me for running away with Catra, how can I know what he'd do to her?"
Lancelot gasped, so shaken that she lurched in her saddle. "He'd never hurt her."
"Men have killed their kinswomen for less," Drian insisted.
"I know that well, but he would not. Neither would he tell Agravaine," Lancelot said, though she knew she protested in vain.
"He won't have the chance."
"Do you think he was going to kill you because you ran away with her, or, as he says, because you refused to tell him what had happened to her? It's not so strange that he assumed the worst. You could have abandoned her, or even sold her." Lancelot hated to say those words, but she thought they were necessary.
"Of course, because I'm so lowborn, it's likely that I'd have done something awful." Drian sounded no warmer to Gawaine than she had been before.
"I suppose we have to rejoin him now." She grimaced.
Riding with her two friends posed difficulties for Lancelot, who didn't want to offend either of them. She tried to keep her horse equidistant from both, but on a crumbling Roman road, that was not an easy task.
When the three had ridden only a little further, Drian asked Lancelot, "Are you going to ride with him or with me?"
Lancelot gave her a warm glance, though perhaps not as warm as if Gawaine had not been present. "Gawaine and I are headed to Camelot."
Drian frowned. "You could give him the sword to return to the king."
"But I want to be with Guinevere," Lancelot said, sorry to pain Drian as she knew she did.
"You should have a reward for retrieving King Arthur's sword," said Gawaine. He took the gold armrings off his wrists and handed them to Drian. Drian hesitated to take them.
"The reward is not from me, but from the High King," Gawaine told her. "He would surely give you one."
"True, he would," Lancelot agreed.
Drian accepted the armrings and put them on. Her wrists were much slimmer than Gawaine's.
For that reason, and perhaps to conceal the armrings, she pushed them up under her sleeves.
"I bid you farewell," Drian said, with a brief nod to Gawaine and a long look at Lancelot.
"Farewell," Lancelot said warmly, "until we meet again."
"Farewell," Gawaine said, "and may we not meet too soon."
"For the first time, I agree with you," Drian told him. She rode over a hill and was soon out of sight.
When Drian had gone, Gawaine said, "I fear your marriage didn't last long."
Lancelot laughed. "I have no husband, and no desire to have one."
"Won't he marry you? Has he left you with child?" Gawaine's voice pretended concern. He stroked his red beard, which gleamed in the winter sun.
"Drian is my friend, though a very attractive one," Lancelot replied, frowning to show that the jest was wearing thin. "But I have never embraced anyone but Guinevere and never will."
"No doubt that would please Guinevere." Gawaine looked at Lancelot as if he was seeing her for the first time, and his gaze made her uncomfortable. They let their horses relax their pace as they went around a boggy patch of ground.
The afternoon sun warmed the air. Flocks of starlings gathered in the bushes. There was no reason to pretend Gawaine didn't know her secret.
"Did you guess that night at the tavern that I was a woman?"
He snorted. "I didn't guess, I knew. There was no other reason for you to be so reluctant to sleep in a bed."
Lancelot sighed. He had helped her just now, but what did he think of her? "Do you think I'm a monster?"
"A what?" Gawaine started as if a hare had run in front of his horse. "Why should you imagine that?"
"A lady called me that just the other night," Lancelot admitted, casting her gaze on the ground.
"What a sweet lady!" Gawaine's voice was heavy with sarcasm. "How did she find out about you?"
"She gave me something strong to drink and then she came uninvited to my bed. I was terrified when I woke. Everything was an awful blur. She kissed me and I tried to stop her but... never mind!"
"It isn't difficult to guess." He put his hand over his mouth.
Lancelot gave him a baleful look and grumbled under her breath. "Well, don't think about it. Whoever would have imagined that a woman would do such a thing!"
"She wouldn't be the first woman in history to get into a man's bed though he hadn't asked her," Gawaine smiled as if to indicate some such thing had happened to him. "But, though I've heard of men trying to get women to drink too much, I've never heard of a woman drugging a man. If you had kept that gown on, few ladies would have molested you. But, of course, some men might have tried, not guessing that would shorten their lives."
"Didn't you talk enough nonsense for today at the tavern?"
Lancelot was tired of hearing comments about her sex.
"You can think up a lie quicker than you can lift your mead horn."
"I have never lied to you," Gawaine exclaimed, his laughter finished."You always know when I am telling a tale, but you have deceived me every day for many years." His tone was not jesting. He actually glared at her. "How can I trust you?"
"Gawaine!" Lancelot reeled from the blow. It seemed that the day had grown colder, as if snow had started to fall. She could barely speak. "Is it a lie that I have saved your life as often as you have saved mine?"
"No, that is true," Gawaine admitted. "But I don't know who or what you are." He had stopped glaring, but he did not smile. He stared at her as if she were a stranger.
"How can I tell you what I don't know myself?" Lancelot cried. She spoke as if trying to convince herself as well as Gawaine. "My father raised me like a boy so I could defend myself. How can I know what I would be like otherwise? I have to lie for my own protection. Who am I? I am Arthur's warrior, Guinevere's lover, and your friend. I have never let you down."
Gawaine now looked at her as he had when her hand was wounded. His voice was subdued. "Neither have I let you down."
"Not yet," she said with a catch in her voice.
"Is it likely that I will, then?" But he now looked away from her, which was not reassuring.
His terseness unnerved her. Gawaine was not a man of few words. She fixed her gaze on the muddy path ahead. "What am I? I am like Drian," she said, encouraging her mare to move a little faster. "Drian's the only person I have ever met who is like me. Call me a woman, a man, or what you will."
Gawaine finally looked Lancelot in the eye and grinned. "You truly are a woman. When I asked who you were and what you were, you did not say, 'How dare you ask me such a question. I am Lancelot of the Lake, Lancelot of the Lightning Arm, the greatest fighter in the world.' No, you said who you are to other people – to Arthur, to Guinevere, to me. Just like a woman."
"Many warriors would say what lord they are sworn to serve," Lancelot objected.
"Exactly," Gawaine said triumphantly. "A man might say, 'I am the foremost warrior of Arthur, High King of All Britain.' He would not have said who his lady is, or reminded the man challenging him that they were friends. I repeat – you are just like a woman."
"If I'm just like a woman, it took you a long time to discover it," Lancelot said, irked but relieved that he grinned.
"Yes, it took me years to uncover your secret." Gawaine smirked and brought his horse up next to hers. He put a little too much emphasis on the word "uncover."
"You haven't uncovered anything, and you aren't going to." Lancelot frowned at him. "Don't think you can talk to me that way."
He c
huckled. "Don't worry, I can't do anything. A woman who apparently knows me better than I thought she did said I am like unleavened bread that cannot rise. If you can say such things, I can, too."
Lancelot felt her face flush. "No, in fact you can't." She urged her mare to ride ahead of him.
After they had ridden a short distance, Gawaine asked, "And does Arthur know about you?"
She halted her horse at that.
"No, and don't tell him. I'm afraid he would send me away."
"Of course I won't. He'd let you stay, but he might impose conditions that you would not like." Gawaine sucked in his breath. "As his wife's lover, you are in a difficult position. He shouldn't know that you are a woman."
"I wouldn't tell him," she said. "He might treat me differently."
Gawaine raised his eyebrows. "He might." He gave her a strange look. "I'll never tell anyone your secret." His voice was quieter than usual.
"I have no wish to tell Arthur, but I fear his sister will tell him." Lancelot sighed. "When I was wounded by brigands in Cornwall, she saved my life and discovered that I am a woman. She threatened to tell him if I did not steal his sword..."
"Morgan is behind the stealing of his sword!" Gawaine cried out, his eyes almost bulging out of his head. "I can't believe she would do such a thing. Did she want that old fool Uriens to be High King? Thank all the gods you retrieved the sword."
Gawaine reached out and nearly clapped her on the back, then pulled back as if he could not do that to a woman. "A while ago, Morgan approached me to conspire against Arthur, but I didn't take it seriously. I am not clever about such intrigue. How could Morgan have hatched such a mad plot?" He shook his head. "Never fear, I shall ask her not to reveal your secret. She used to be fond of me, so I suppose she still is."
"Thank you," Lancelot said, not at all sure that this possible fondness would be enough to silence Morgan.
"I hope you won't tell Arthur about her part in this plot." Gawaine's voice held an unusual note of anxiety. "He exiled her for no good reason, so I fear what he would do if he had cause. He might put her in a dungeon."
Lancelot shuddered. "I spent an afternoon and evening in Uriens's dungeon. If I had had to spend much time there, I would have gone mad." She looked gratefully at the pink-gold winter sky, so different from the dark hole where she had been imprisoned. "Whatever else she might have done, the Lady Morgan saved my life when I was wounded. I would never want her to be in a prison. Of course I won't tell."
Lancelot- Her Story Page 47