"You're on!" cried another. "What fun!"
Lady Annalise turned to stare at the villagers. Half were cheering for Sir Balin, but the other half were cheering for the Knight of the Island. All looked to be having a grand time.
On the island, the two knights separated and walked in a circle for a moment, evidently catching their breath. Lady Annalise looked again at the villagers. "This is all a big game to you, isn't it?" she demanded.
"Ay, my lady," replied a man nearby. "We wait for two knights to come by, tell the first one that we're about to be attacked by a villain, tell the second one that we're being oppressed by a villain, and then we get to watch them fight. It's as good as a tournament, but it's right here at home."
"But that's terrible!" Lady Annalise exclaimed. "A knight could get killed for your silly game!"
The townsman looked sulky. "They usually just get wounded," he muttered, "and we always give decent burials to the ones who die."
Lady Annalise started toward the bridge. "Balin! Wait!"
But it was too late. As she headed toward the island, the two battling knights struck at exactly the same moment, thrusting their swords into each other's hearts. Then, as one, they crumpled to the ground.
"Get back, all of you!" Lady Annalise shouted fiercely, shoving townspeople aside as she hurried toward the bridge. Alone, she raced across to the island, where she knelt over the two bodies. After several minutes, she rose to her feet and walked back to the bridge, glaring at the villagers.
"Do you want to hear what your cruel lies have done?" she said. Her voice was low, but it carried easily. "You think this is just a harmless game, but today you have slain two of the finest men in the land. There, behind me, lies Sir Balin, the Knight with Two Swords, and beside him in death lies his brother, Sir Balan the Doughty."
"His brother?" someone in the crowd muttered.
"Yes, his brother!" said Lady Annalise. "He did not recognize him because of his strange shield and because he had lost one of his two swords." She raised her eyes to heaven, and with a broken voice continued, "Alas, my friend Sir Balin! You tried to defy fate, but your fate caught up with you! It was foretold that you would destroy the knight whom you loved most in the world. Today that most tragic and dolorous fate has come upon you. Rest in peace, my friend! I and I alone shall carry you and your valorous brother back home to Northumberland!"
Shame on their faces, the villagers went to bring stretchers. They laid the two dead knights on them, then tied them behind their two horses. Her jaw clenched tightly, her shoulders shaking with suppressed emotion, Lady Annalise watched these preparations. Then she made the townspeople swear never to deceive good knights with their game again, and gave a few other instructions. When all had been done, she wordlessly mounted her own horse and led the knights' horses back into the woods, one hand covering her face, a picture of grief.
Epilogue
Two knights and a lady rode side by side on the Great North Road.
"What I don't understand," the lady was saying, "is how you recognized each other."
"We didn't at first," said one of the knights, who was, in fact, Sir Balin. "Lannie was wearing a new suit of armor from the town's collection, and as you said, I was carrying a shield and was down to only one sword."
"But it didn't take long," interposed the other knight, Sir Balan. "You see, Lin and I have sparred with each other since we were old enough to hold wooden swords. We know all each other's tricks and weaknesses."
"Mostly weaknesses in Lannie's case," added Sir Balin.
"Put a cork in it," said Sir Balan.
"So," continued Sir Balin, "once we had figured out who the other was, we separated and walked in a circle, comparing each other's stories. When we figured out that we had just been set up to fight for the town's entertainment, we decided to give them a show and kill each other. It isn't that hard to fake if you do it right."
"But I must say, Lady Annalise," Sir Balan added, "it wouldn't have worked nearly so well without your help. That was an inspired speech. I almost cried."
"He always cries after we fight," Sir Balin said.
"How many times do I have to tell you," Sir Balan said wearily. "Put a cork in it! I especially like the way you made the villagers burn the bridge to the island after we'd been carried off."
"I wasn't sure they would keep their promise," Lady Annalise said. "I'm still not sure of that, but at least it will be harder for them for a bit."
"All in all," Sir Balan said, "I think it was a lucky day when Lin met you. But he's always been a lucky chap."
"I quite agree," replied Lady Annalise, nodding. "He's been a Questing Lady's dream, and he's brought me excellent fortune."
Sir Balin blinked, then smiled slowly. "You know what? You're right. I've had a very lucky life."
Two days later, they arrived at the brothers' home in Northumberland. Their parents, grayer but otherwise looking just as they had twenty years before, greeted them with delight and welcomed Lady Annalise with open arms.
They had a splendid dinner, then retired together to the same firelit parlor where the Old Woman of an Indeterminate Mountain had made her prophecies so long ago. There, Sir Balin told the story of his quests. When he was done, his father pursed his lips thoughtfully.
"So, in the end," he said, "was that old woman right or not? You did become known as the noblest knight in England."
"Yes," said Sir Balin, "but I wasn't. It was just that I accidentally muddled up a lie cooked up by two traitors."
"Accidentally. Yes, of course," said his father. "And you did strike the Dolorous Stroke."
"King Perleus did use that word," Sir Balin admitted. "But I'm nearly certain that he said a dolorous stroke."
"He said dolorous?" murmured Sir Balan. "I mean, really, who says dolorous?"
Their father continued, "And by striking that dolorous stroke, you brought down two kingdoms."
"But they weren't real kingdoms," Sir Balin argued. "At least one was only imaginary. It only existed in King Perleus's own head, placed there by another silly prophetess."
"The Old Woman of the Mountain never said they had to be real kingdoms," replied his father. "Moreover, you never turned down an adventure."
"Yes, I did!" Sir Balin exclaimed. "Three times!"
"No, you didn't," replied his father, "you tried to, but you ended up taking it after all."
At this point, his wife interrupted. "Dear, please be quiet. The old woman's prophecy is nonsense and always was. Balin didn't destroy the knight he loves most in the world, because his brother's right here. Most of all, he hasn't brought misfortune on everyone he meets. He saved King Arthur from two traitors and from the rebel King Royns, he got rid of that horrid invisible knight and his equally horrid brother, and he put a stop to that nasty custom at the Isle of Battles. So, really, Balin's always bringing good fortune."
"My dear," said her husband indulgently, "you would say that even if—"
"I said, Balin's always bringing good fortune."
"Yes, dear."
At this, Sir Balin spoke. "I think I'm with Mother here. Things only went bad for me when I was trying to live according to the prophecy. Once I started to doubt it and to make my own way, things worked out much better for me. I'm through with prophecies now."
Sir Balin's mother smiled at him and said, "In the end, there's really only one prophecy that matters, and I can see that one will come true very soon."
Sir Balin looked confused. "I thought we'd agreed the prophecy was just silly."
"Not the old woman's prophecy. Mine! Haven't I always predicted that you'd marry a nice northern girl?"
Sir Balin and Lady Annalise glanced furtively at each other. Sir Balin cleared his throat. "What do you say, Annalise?"
Lady Annalise shrugged. "What can I say? It's fate."
"A prophecy's a prophecy," Sir Balin said, nodding soberly.
"I guess we'll just have to accept it," said Lady Annalise, smiling.
Sir Balan rolled his eyes. "Oh, put a cork in it, both of you," he said.
Many years ago, the storytellers say, the great King Arthur brought justice to England with the help of his gallant Knights of the Round Table. Behold, dear reader, more hilarious and high-spirited adventures from The Knights' Tales, as only the acclaimed Arthurian author Gerald Morris can tell them!
Sir Lancelot the Great
Never was one so fearless, so chivalrous, so honorable, so... shiny as the dashing Sir Lancelot, who was quite good at defending the helpless and protecting the weak, just as long as he'd had his afternoon nap.
⋆"Rejoice, fans of the Squire's Tales ... Morris is finally bringing his terrific recastings of Arthurian legend to a younger audience.... More, please." —Kirkus Reviews, starred review
"The art catches the tone of the writing in the oftenamusing ink drawings. A promising series debut for young readers." —Booklist
"The book's brevity and humor make it accessible to reluctant readers, and it is a fantastic read-aloud." —School Library Journal
"This trim novel, with simple vocabulary and brief, witty chapters, is an ideal fit for early readers ... but fans of the legendary characters may find particular delight in this irreverent and unabashedly silly exploration of Arthur's court and his most influential knight." —The Bulletin
Sir Givret the Short
Poor Givret—since he's easily the shortest man at court, his size makes him easy to overlook. But what he lacks in stature Givret makes up for with clever thinking. Surely there's more to knighthood than height? So beginneth the adventures of Sir Givret the Short, the Brilliant, and the Marvelous.
"Delivers more quests and adventures geared for a younger audience than the author's Squire's Tales books.... Brush and ink illustrations, both full-page and vignettes, are scattered throughout, adding interest to the humorous story line ... a reckless young knight out to prove himself results in an entertaining tale that is sure to please young readers." —School Library Journal
"The books in Morris's Knights' Tales series feature short, episodic chapters and funny little illustrations of knightly derring-do ... the emphasis is on cleverness over heroism.... This is often quite funny, and just exciting enough to capture the attention of budding young Arthur-philes." —Booklist
Sir Gawain the True
Hear ye, hear ye! Joust into the laugh-out-loud tale of King Arthur's most celebrated knight, and nephew, Sir Gawain, who is more skilled at winning tournaments than making friends. Can it be that courtesy is as important as courage?
"Broad humor graced with lively language will have readers laughing along with this boisterous Arthurian adventure." —Yellow Brick Road
⋆"An ingeniously integrated retelling of Gawain and the Green Knight and other episodes from the Arthurian canon. Worthy reading for all budding squires and damsels." —Kirkus Reviews, starred review
The Adventures of Sir Balin the Ill-Fated Page 4