The Princess, the Crone, and the Dung-Cart Knight

by Gerald Morris

  "But how do you know this old woman was—" Charis began.

  "A witch? She turned half my guards into badgers, is how I know! Right in my own courtyard, too!"

  "Half?" Charis asked demurely. "And the others obeyed your orders and threw her out?"

  "I should say not! Dashed cowards are probably still running. I haven't seen any of them since. Now do you deny that the spell has failed?"

  "Of course not," Charis replied. "In fact, the spell was broken last week when my brother was killed. I'm afraid that I couldn't restore it, even if I wished to."

  "Even if you—" the Vavasour repeated slowly.

  "Indeed, it was about that spell that I wanted to speak to you. Am I correct that my brother's orders to you were to stop and to kill any knight who came to you looking for Logres?"

  "Yes, of course."

  "And this was why, some three or four weeks ago, you attempted to kill a knight and two ladies who stopped at your castle?" The Vavasour stared at Charis, suddenly wary, and Charis added impatiently, "Come, come, Sir Hugh. You meant to put poison in their water bags, I believe."

  The Vavasour gasped. "How did you know that?"

  Charis ignored the question. "Sir Hugh, your behavior is unworthy of a knight. Logres needs loyal vassals, but we need honorable vassals still more. I remove you from your position. Your castle and lands are forfeit to the throne. My father and I shall give them to a worthier subject."

  The Vavasour gaped at her. "You can't do that!"

  "Actually, she can," came a new voice from the other side of the room. Sarah saw with surprise that Sir Kai was approaching, leaning on a crutch and supported by Queen Guinevere. "By the laws of fealty, you hold your lands at the pleasure of your liege lord."

  "This is outrageous!"

  "If you doubt my own word, I would be happy to ask my brother about the specifics of feudal law," Sir Kai said calmly.

  "Why should I care what your brother thinks? Who is your brother, anyway?"

  "His name is Arthur Pendragon," Sir Kai replied.

  "Sir Kai," Charis interjected. "I thank you for your assistance, but I will handle this matter."

  At the names of Arthur and Sir Kai, the Vavasour's bluster faded. "My lady," he stammered. "I'm very sorry. I was doing only what your brother told me to do. What else could I do? I didn't like my orders, but I had to obey!"

  Charis said, "It is why I have not thrown you in the dungeon with Raven. But your lands and your title are most certainly forfeit. And"—Charis smiled widely—"I believe that I shall grant them—with my father's approval, of course—to the hero who defeated my brother's plots." Charis looked behind the Vavasour and smiled, looking suddenly like a child again. "I grant them to Lady Sarah of Milrick, to rule with her wisdom and in fealty to my father."

  Sarah gawked at Charis. Ariel smiled broadly, and Jean laughed aloud. The Vavasour trembled with fury. "No! Not to a woman! Not my lands! Who do you think you are? You, a little girl, stripping me of my fief? You may be a princess, but you can't do this! Have you no loyalty to your brother? To your father? Whose princess are you, anyway?"

  Charis rose to her feet, her face white with anger. When she spoke, her voice shook with suppressed rage. "I can do this. I have done this. And, Sir Hugh, I am my own damned princess!"

  The Vavasour stared at her, then grasped the hilt of his sword. Before he could draw it, though, Charis spoke again, this time in a ringing voice. "Sir Lancelot! Will you escort Sir Hugh from the castle, please?"

  The Vavasour turned slowly to face Jean, who stepped forward. When the Vavasour looked into the eyes of the man he had intended to poison and realized that he looked at the great Sir Lancelot, his face turned a sickly, greenish gray.

  "See that you never again enter the land of Logres," Charis said, "or your life will be forfeit as well as your lands."

  Defeated, the Vavasour left the room, and Charis sank exhaustedly back onto the throne. The room was still for a long moment, but at last Sir Kai said quietly, "Splendidly done, child."

  Queen Guinevere added, "I would that I could summon such queenliness, my dear."

  Charis took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then grinned at Sarah. "Good thing he told me all his guards had run away, isn't it? You don't mind that I've given you a castle, do you, Sarah? They're a horrible bother to keep up."

  "Especially when they've got a badger problem," added Sir Kai, hobbling up to Sarah's side. Sarah could not speak. Sir Kai rested a huge hand on her shoulder. "You'll do fine. I'll help, if you like."

  "And Arthur will send a new troop of guards for you," Queen Guinevere added. "I'll see to it."

  Charis's grin grew to a broad smile. "And we shall be neighbors!"

  The next day brought more visitors. Sarah was eating a simple luncheon with Charis, Ariel, and Guinevere and was experiencing for the first time in her life the pleasure of talking freely with other girls she trusted. It wasn't that they talked about anything of importance. Indeed, most of their conversation was hopelessly trivial—Mordecai would have shaken his head sadly over such frivolity, Sarah reflected with an inward smile. But to talk so openly, and to laugh so unrestrainedly, was somehow far more significant than any single thing that was said.

  The four had been made curiously equal in their tête- à-tête. The queen had long since begged the others to stop calling her "your highness" and bowing to her, and now, laughing with the others, she seemed much younger than she ever had. Charis and Ariel, on the other hand, seemed to have grown much older since Sarah had first met them. Sarah could hardly remember the innocent and artless prattle that had betrayed Ariel's youth back at the Dividing of the Ways. Now, although Ariel talked as brightly and laughed as easily as ever, her smile was oddly grave, and her eyes were as unfathomably black as the deepest well. Sarah herself felt older. It was as if, in this moment together, away from the world that men inhabited and made in their own image, the four women were all the same age, or rather had no age at all.

  The moment passed, though. A guard, having knocked tentatively on the door, entered and informed Charis that a blacksmith and a lady had come to the castle and had requested an audience with her.

  "With me?" Charis asked. "Or with my father?"

  "The lady said 'Princess Charis,' your highness."

  Charis pondered this briefly, then looked back at the guard. "Your name is Daw, isn't it?"

  "Yes, your highness."

  "What do you think, Daw? Is there any danger?"

  The guard flushed, clearly gratified at being consulted. He responded promptly, "No, your highness. I can't say why, but when you've seen the lady, you'll know."

  "Thank you, Daw. You may admit them. Will you show them to the green hall, please? And, Daw, just in case, would you ask Sir Lancelot to join us?"

  Daw bowed. "I've already done so, your highness. Just in case, as you say."

  The guard left, and Guinevere said, half-laughing, "You know, Charis, you are in a fair way to having some of the most loyal guards in all the land. I predict you will find more protectors than just Lancelot waiting for you."

  She was right. When the four arrived in the hall, they found with Lancelot a dozen armed guards, under the command of Captain Clem, stationed along the wall. "Oh dear," Charis murmured to the others, "I'm afraid that our guests will think me very pompous."

  Then the doors opened, and into the hall strode Piers. He smiled at Sarah, then, upon seeing Ariel, smiled more brightly still. After him came the most majestic woman Sarah had ever seen. She wore a green dress that glimmered with its own light as she walked, and her long black hair hung to her waist. Sarah caught her breath and knew exactly what the guard Daw had meant. This woman was good and kind and generous, or else no one was. The woman swept a curtsy to Charis—who was staring at her as rapturously as was Sarah—and said, "Good day, Princess Charis. I have come to bring you greetings from the Seelie Court."

  "My lady," Charis managed to stammer. "I think I should be bowing to you, not you t
o me."

  The woman laughed, and Sarah felt a thrill run up her spine at the sound. "I beg you not to, my dear," the lady said, turning to Sarah. "And you are Sarah, are you not?"

  Sarah swallowed and nodded.

  "Well done, my dear. Oh, very well done, indeed." Then the lady looked at Ariel and smiled affectionately. "But who is this? I hardly recognize this grave and quiet lady here. You have changed, child."

  Ariel nodded. "I found that quests are not so simple as I had thought, that the right paths are not always easy to recognize. But you told me that before I came, didn't you, Mother?"

  Sarah caught her breath and understood. This grand lady before her was Ariel's mother, the Lady of the Lake, of whom Sarah had heard only in the wildest of faery tales. A strangled sound came from Sarah's left, and she saw Jean step forward, his face stricken.

  "It is you!" he said hoarsely. "I thought you were only a dream!"

  The Lady of the Lake walked across the hall and took Jean's hands in her own. "You were very young when last you saw me," she said. "Your father's kingdom was embroiled in civil war. His wife, your mother, had been assassinated by his enemies, and he feared for your life as well. So I took you away and hid you, for three years, until King Ban had put down the revolt. You see, I knew that you had a great part to play in the deliverance of this land one day."

  "You mean, to help Sarah and Ariel and Charis?" Jean whispered, dazedly.

  "You have indeed done great deeds here, but you have still more to do for England, Sir Lancelot."

  These words sounded oddly familiar to Sarah, and she remembered that the Hermit of the Tomb had said something similar back on their travels.

  The Lady of the Lake continued, "And so I became your nursemaid and your mother and your sister for a time." Jean still looked thunderstruck, and the Lady of the Lake laughed softly. "Have you never wondered why you are called 'Sir Lancelot du Lac'—of the Lake? It was your father's gift, a remembrance of me. But indeed, you have more than repaid me yourself, by your own care for my daughter Ariel in her quest."

  The hall was silent for a long and thoughtful minute, but at last Piers commented wryly, "Well! When I went off to fetch Lancelot from his woodcutter's cottage, I had no idea I was fulfilling a lofty destiny! I thought I was just doing the best thing I could think of at the time." The air seemed to lighten, and Piers added, "I don't suppose you've already eaten here, have you? We've been on the road, you see."

  Charis rose to her feet. "But of course! A meal shall be prepared for you at once. You are welcome, both of you, to Logres. I gather, sir, that you are the blacksmith who escorted Lady Sarah to Camelot?"

  "Just an apprentice, really," Piers said pleasantly. "But yes. And I've come to ride back with Sarah, too. Word from Camelot is that King Arthur is preparing a great feast in her honor—and to welcome the others home, of course."

  "And you've come as my escort?" Sarah asked.

  "Heavens, no!" Piers replied promptly. "My Lady Nimue here's been telling me all you've been up to. I thought maybe you would escort me this time."

  The invitation from King Arthur to which Piers had alluded came officially that very afternoon, by the hand of Squire Terence himself. Sarah and Charis were sitting with Sir Kai, asking him about running a castle, when Terence strolled into the room. He nodded to Sir Kai. "Hallo, Kai," he said cheerfully. "My lady"—here he bowed slightly to Charis, before turning to Sarah—"Gawain told me I'd find you here."

  "Oh," Sarah said, guiltily, "I haven't been by to see him yet today. I hope he's all right."

  "Doing better every day," Terence said, "and I suppose you have to know what it's like not to heal at all to really appreciate getting better."

  "Ay," Sir Kai said, with feeling. "Have you come from Arthur? Is all well in the kingdom?"

  "He's been busy enough, it seems. He and Bedivere and the rest have had their hands full putting down a series of small revolts, all timed to begin at just about the time the queen was captured. All should be in order soon, though. It seems that the spirit went out of the rebels about—as near as I can tell, about the time Lady Sarah here defeated Meliagant."

  "You mean Jean, don't you? I didn't kill him," Sarah said.

  "I didn't say you killed him, only that you defeated him," Terence said.

  "Don't argue, child," Sir Kai added.

  Terence grinned briefly, then put on a formal expression and bowed deeply to Sarah. "In sooth, I come as the king's deputy, to express King Arthur's deepest gratitude to the Lady Sarah of Milrick and to extend to her his personal invitation—"

  "If this is about the grand banquet in her honor," Sir Kai said, "you can save the frills and foofaraws. Piers was by earlier today and told her about it."

  Terence sighed. "And I had a speech all prepared, too," he said. "And will the Lady Sarah accept the king's invitation?"

  "Of course she will!" Sir Kai exclaimed.

  Terence ignored him, his eyes on Sarah's face. "I ... I don't know..." she said. "I'm not a fine lady, like..."

  "Sarah?" Charis said sternly. "What did I tell you the other day?"

  "But I'm a nobody, of lowly birth!" Sarah said.

  Terence knelt on the floor beside her chair and took her hand. "My lady, I for one am not at all sure about that. But even if it were true, you have saved England by your courage, and that sort of thing is, after all, how nobodies become somebodies."

  "Listen to me, princess," Sir Kai said. "If you're worried about your upbringing, I can reassure you. I don't know about your mother's family, but the man who raised you was a great man indeed."

  "What? Who do you mean?"

  "The merchant Mordecai, of course," Sir Kai said.

  "You knew Mordecai?" Sarah asked faintly.

  "He and I were, ah, very close indeed for some six months. You might say that we shared everything. Such as lice. That was when he told me about the young lady and her daughter—Esther and Sarah—whom he had taken under his protection. He even told me what your name meant in his own language: princess. It was one reason I helped you on the road, when you tried to steal my sword. You had the right name—an unusual name, you know—and you were about the right age. I was sure you were the one."

  Sarah's mind reeled, but in her whirl of confusion, bits of the past and scraps of information began to fit together. Brother Constans, the Hermit of the Tomb, had told her how Sir Kai had been imprisoned by that knight—Sir Turquin—for six months, and how as a part of his humiliation he had been forced to live with all sorts of outcasts, including a Jew. That, along with the vague memory from her early years of the period when Mordecai had gone away for a time, suddenly explained everything. "They killed Mordecai, you know," she said to Sir Kai.

  Sir Kai nodded. "I wondered. Who did it?"

  Sarah took a long slow breath. "Nearly everyone, it seems. The villagers of Milrick believed that he had poisoned their well—just because he was a Jew. I saw them drag him away along with my mother. There was a knight who was egging them on."

  "That's why you wanted a sword, then. To find this knight," Sir Kai said. Sarah nodded. "And you found him, didn't you?"

  "Yes," Sarah said, looking at the floor. "But before ... but he said that he had only been following the command of the Templar."

  "The Templar?" asked Sir Kai.

  "Sir Meliagant," Sarah explained. "But it wasn't all Sir Meliagant, either. He was only following orders, too. The sorceress who was using him had sent him to stir up trouble."

  "How do you know this?" Terence asked, one eyebrow arched high.

  "Sir Meliagant told me, during the fight. Just before you and Gawain arrived, I imagine. He said he'd heard a priest telling the village that the Jews had poisoned their well, and he used the priest's sermon as an excuse to stir up a mob. He had already seen Mordecai camped nearby, you see."

  "What priest?" came an imperious female voice from the doorway. Terence, who had been leaning against the door jamb, frowned slightly, then shrugged apologetically at Sa
rah and stepped aside. Into the room swept a tall, breathtakingly beautiful woman in a shimmering golden gown. "Did Meliagant tell you which priest, child?"

  "Who are you?" asked Sarah.

  "Oh, Good Gog!" muttered Sir Kai.

  "I should have told you earlier," Terence said. "I came upon Lady Morgan on my way back here, and she came with me. She, ah, claims an acquaintance with you."

  "Look at me, child," the woman said. "Do you not know me?"

  "Yes," Sarah said. "Now I do. You're the woman who pulled me away the night of the fires."

  "And?" the woman said. "Look again."

  Sarah nodded slowly. "And you were the crone who helped me on the way. I can just see it in your eyes and chin."

  "That's right," the woman said. "My name is Morgan Le Fay, little Alcina."

  Sarah's eyes widened. "What did you call me?"

  "Alcina, my dear. It is your name, after all. You are the daughter of my sister Dioneta."

  A long and profound silence greeted this announcement. It was Charis who finally spoke. "I welcome you to Logres, Lady Morgan. Do come in. I suppose we are all agog to hear more of this." Then Charis frowned suddenly. "If that's all right with Sarah, I mean. Or rather with A1—... what is that name?"

  "My name is Sarah," Sarah said.

  "Do not deny it, my dear," said Lady Morgan, settling herself in a chair.

  "I don't deny it," Sarah said. "My mother told me that I had been christened Alcina, but she herself called me Sarah. So did the man who loved me enough to care for me all my childhood. My name is Sarah."

  "Good girl!" said Sir Kai.

  "As you wish," Lady Morgan said. "I never interfere with other people's choices."

  Terence laughed softly. "That much is true anyway. It's both the best and the worst thing I know of you, Lady Morgan."

  Lady Morgan ignored him. "If your mother told you your real name, did she also tell you about your real family?" Sarah started to say that Mordecai and her mother had been her real family but decided it would sound churlish and so only shook her head. "Then allow me to tell you. Your mother, Dioneta, was the youngest daughter of Duke of Gorlois and the Lady Igraine."