The Ballad of Sir Dinadan (15 page)

They were empty. Suddenly aware of his hunger, Dinadan helped himself to a slab of beef as he tried to remember which corridor Brangienne had always taken to return to her rooms after they had met here before. He was just reaching for a second slice, when a voice behind him said calmly, "I thought we'd seen the last of you. Missed our pantry did you?"

Dinadan smiled and relaxed. Without turning around, he said, "Odd how every time I come to these kitchens I find you here." He took a bite of beef, then turned. Brangienne looked older, and somehow more serious, but her eyes were still lively and intelligent. "Well, you look all right. The past few years haven't been too hard on you, I hope."

Brangienne's eyes clouded. "I couldn't even tell you. What are you doing here?"

"I came to find you," Dinadan replied.

"How flattering," she replied at once. "To be so concerned for me—after not seeing me for three years and four months." Her tone was deeply sarcastic. "Suppose you tell me why you're really here."

Dinadan felt his face grow red. "I guess it has been too long. To tell you the truth, I've thought of you often enough these past years, but I couldn't bring myself to get mixed up in Culloch's stupidity again. I guess that's not very complimentary to you, is it? That I thought of you but wouldn't inconvenience myself to see you."

Brangienne hesitated. "No, it isn't," she said at last. "But I'd feel the same way. He truly is an absolute ass, and Olwen's just as bad. So, what brought you back now?"

Dinadan blinked, recalled suddenly to his purpose. "I've come to take you away. Iseult knows you're here, and you're in danger."

Brangienne was silent for a long moment. At last she said, "Am I? I've been wondering about that. Does she still want me dead after all this time?"

"She's sent some soldiers to find you."

"Are you sure?"

"I trust the one who told me. He says they'll be here soon. You need to leave at once."

Brangienne's face was still. "How did she find out?" she asked suddenly.

Dinadan swallowed. "My fault. I was with a friend and we ran into Culloch. I asked about you, not thinking about the company. Then a day or two later we met Iseult, and my friend, in all innocence, mentioned you."

"You asked about me?" Brangienne repeated slowly. Dinadan shrugged. "And so then you came straight here to warn me?"

"I had to get here before Iseult's messengers did," Dinadan explained. "Iseult wasted no time in sending them, if they're already only a day away, which is what I was told."

"Who told you?"

Dinadan licked his lips once. "It's a bit hard to explain. He's not ... well, I know he's someone to be trusted, but I can't—"

"Was it a shadowy person with horns?" Brangienne asked abruptly.

Dinadan nodded, his eyes on Brangienne's face. "Do you know Sylvanus?"

"Is that his name? No. No, I don't. But the reason I'm here tonight was because someone like that woke me and sent me downstairs. It seems that I had better leave." Her voice was remarkably calm, Dinadan thought, as if she were planning to run a minor errand instead of leave the place where she had lived for more than three years. Her eyes met his. "But where?"

Dinadan replied. "I thought I'd take you to Arthur's court," he said.

"No." Her voice was still calm, almost matter-of-fact.

"No?"

"No," Brangienne replied decidedly. "You can't know what it's like, being a lady-in-waiting: your life devoted to helping foolish women do all the things that are most likely to keep them foolish. I want no more of courts."

"Then ... then where? I don't know of any other place of safety."

"How about a convent?" Brangienne asked.

"A convent? You?"

Brangienne smiled. "Don't think I'm being rash. I've been planning this for ages. I dream every night of leaving this place, but I will not leave just to go to another like it. I want to be with people of sense, which means I should be with women, but not with noblewomen. Do you know any convents we could get to in a day or two?"

Dinadan thought for a moment. "I know an Abbey—Saint Anselm's—and one of the monks there is a friend. He might know of a convent. How long will it take you to pack?"

Brangienne almost laughed. "I've been packed for three years now. Are your horses in the courtyard? I'll meet you there."

And so it was that a week later, having followed Brother Eliot's directions to the Sisters of Joy Convent, Dinadan delivered Brangienne to a fierce-looking woman with heavy jowls and thick eyebrows under an imposing wimple. The nun took Brangienne in without a murmur, but glared at Dinadan as if he were a murderer. Dinadan blinked at the woman's glare and said mildly, "You're sure about this, Brangienne?"

Brangienne looked at Dinadan, and her face softened. "I'll be all right, Dinadan. Thank you." Then she went inside, her fine gown ridiculously out of place beside her escort's plain habit, and the gates closed behind her.

While Dinadan was not completely comfortable leaving Brangienne with that scowling nun, it seemed likely that she was safe for the time being. But if Iseult was going to keep looking for her, then that safety was only temporary. Dinadan had been considering the matter, and now he knew what he had to do. If Iseult wanted Brangienne dead in order to conceal the story of the magic potion, then he had to show her that killing her would make matters worse. Dinadan headed back toward Tintagel.

About noon on his fourth day of traveling, as he retraced his steps back to Cornwall, he heard a familiar sound, an odd, melodic strumming. Dinadan stopped abruptly. "Palomides?" he called. The music stopped, and a moment later Palomides appeared from a camp in the trees.

"Is it you indeed, my friend? I am overjoyed," the Moor said.

"What are you doing here? Didn't you go to Camelot?" Dinadan asked, dismounting and embracing the Moor.

"No, my friend. Before I had gone a furlong I realized that I did not wish to continue without you." Dinadan blinked, then smiled. "So, my friend, I have been waiting for you," Palomides explained.

"But how did you know I'd be coming back this way?"

"I did not know, of course, but it was reasonable. Something that Queen Iseult said sent you away with an urgent message. I decided that something so urgent would probably bring you back to see her again." Dinadan was silent, and Palomides added, "I do not ask what it was."

Dinadan nodded. "Yes, and thank you for that, but I think I should trust you. You see, it wasn't something Iseult said that sent me away, but something
I
said, about Lady Brangienne. The reason that Iseult wants to find her is to keep her from telling a secret. Brangienne has been in hiding from Iseult for three years, but through my own carelessness, Iseult learned her whereabouts."

Palomides's jaw tightened. "But it was I who told this to Queen Iseult. Did I indeed put a lady's life in danger?"

"You weren't to know," Dinadan said. "But it's all right now. Brangienne's safe in a different place."

Palomides's eyes were hot. "I do not like to give aid, even unwittingly, to the wicked," he said sternly. "You go to Queen Iseult now?"

Dinadan nodded. "I'm going to tell her that I know her secret, too, and that if anything happens to Brangienne, I'll tell everyone in England." They stood silent for a moment, then Dinadan shook off his solemnity. "But there's no need for you to go along. After all, you're looking for great knights, and all they've got at Tintagel is Tristram."

"Perhaps I may find another," Palomides replied calmly. "Allow me to saddle my horse."

And so they rode together toward Tintagel, taking turns playing and singing.

They were only an hour from Tintagel when they came upon a knight resting in a clearing beside the road. As was his practice with every knight they met, Palomides rode up to meet him, and so by the time Dinadan recognized Sir Lamorak it was too late to turn away. "Blast," Dinadan muttered.

Palomides glanced at Dinadan. "What is wrong, my friend?...Oh, I see."

"Hello, friend knights," Sir Lamorak said, striding forward and smiling pleasantly.

They stopped their horses. "Good day, Sir Lamorak," Dinadan said.

Sir Lamorak frowned. "Do I know you?" he asked with surprise.

"I couldn't say," Dinadan said. "My name is Dinadan, and this is Sir Palomides."

Sir Lamorak stared, as everyone did, at Palomides's dark skin. "But I have seen you before! I was engaged in mortal combat with Sir Tristram and a dark-skinned knight rode up and watched! Surely it was you, Sir Palomides."

"It was," Palomides replied evenly. "I am impressed that even in such a battle as that you were aware of our arrival."

"Are you friends of Sir Tristram's?" Sir Lamorak asked abruptly.

"No," Palomides and Dinadan replied together.

Sir Lamorak smiled again, at least with his lips, and said, "That's too bad. You see I am looking for friends of Tristram's who might deliver a message to him."

"Bad luck," Dinadan replied. "Keep looking, though. Tristram must have a friend somewhere."

Sir Lamorak ignored him. "But maybe you could help anyway," he continued. "You see, I've been feeling bad about always fighting with Sir Tristram over whose lady is fairest."

"You should," Palomides replied. "To squabble like a child over your lady's reputation only stains it."

Sir Lamorak's lips tightened, but then he smiled weakly. "As you say. So, because I feel so bad, I want to make amends. I have a gift for Queen Iseult. I don't suppose you're on your way to Tintagel, are you?"

"We are," said Palomides.

"What good luck! Do you think you could deliver this present for me? I'm not sure that I'd be allowed in, you see, what with Tristram being there and all. Here, let me show it to you." He reached into his pack and produced a silver horn that shone with faint, greenish light. "This is a magic horn, from the faery beauty whom I love. She says it was charmed by the great enchantress Igraine herself, and she sends it with her compliments. Its magic is such that any noble soul who drinks from it will double in beauty after one drink."

"What if your soul isn't noble?" Dinadan asked, skeptical. It didn't seem a very suitable gift for Iseult.

Sir Lamorak smiled again. "My lady sends this horn expressly for Queen Iseult, and she knows best what it will do. Please, would you deliver it for me?"

"We do not go to give gifts," Palomides said.

"But couldn't you take it along anyway?" Sir Lam-orak pleaded. "I promised my lady that I would send it to her, and how shall I do so if you will not help me?"

Sir Lamorak's voice was plaintive, and Dinadan wrinkled his nose with distaste, but Palomides only sighed softly. "For the sake of your promise, I will," he said and took the horn.

***

It was evening when they arrived at Tintagel. Palo-mides stopped his horse before the great castle gates and demanded the right of a knight errant to gain entrance. The gates opened to them. They rode together into the castle, surrendered their horses to an elderly groom, and were informed that the king and queen were at dinner. The knights hesitated, but a steward assured them that King Mark had standing orders that wandering knights should be shown to him immediately upon their arrival.

"Very hospitable," Palomides said, but Dinadan was not so sure.

The steward took them to the banquet room, and Palomides and Dinadan stepped unannounced into the hall. Servants bustled about with trays of food, and a dozen or so knights and ladies sat at a long banquet table. At its head was a pale, thin man wearing a large and heavy-looking crown that came so far down his head that it covered his eyebrows and rested on his ears. King Mark, Dinadan decided. At the foot of the table sat Iseult, and beside her was Tristram.

"Why, hello!" Tristram exclaimed, standing and gazing at Palomides. He started forward, as if to welcome the travelers. "Fancy seeing you again. Sir Dino-mides, isn't it?"

"I'll welcome my own guests, Tristram," King Mark said querulously. He sounded as thin and sickly as he looked. "Well? What do you want?" he demanded.

"Yes, that's a much better welcome," Dinadan murmured to himself. He bowed slightly and said in a louder voice, "Good evening, your highness. I am Sir Dinadan, of King Arthur's court, and this is my friend Sir Palomides."

"Friend, is he?" King Mark replied. "Looked like a deuced Moor, to me."

Palomides made no reply, and Dinadan said as gently as he could, "He
is
a Moor, which would account for his looking like one."

King Mark's eyes narrowed, but all he said was, "Well?"

"With your highness's permission, I have come with a private message for Queen Iseult. I am sorry that we have interrupted your dinner, though, and I would be happy to wait until you are done to give it."

"A private message?" King Mark asked. His eyes were tiny slits now.

"I do not permit it!" declared Tristram suddenly.

King Mark focused his suspicious eyes on Tristram now. "You do not permit it?" he repeated.

Tristram lifted his chin. "The queen and I have no secrets."

King Mark started to turn red, and Iseult said, "Be quiet, Sir Tristram."

"Have you not?" King Mark said, through clenched teeth. "And have the two of you no secrets from me?"

Iseult's eyes opened wide, and she assumed the childish voice that she had used on Palomides and Dinadan back on the trail. "But of courthe not, my lord. Why, whatever could you mean?"

For several seconds King Mark glared silently at Iseult and Tristram, while the rest of the lords and ladies of the court gazed at their plates without moving. Watching them, Dinadan concluded that they were used to such exchanges as these and had developed the ability to fade into the background and draw no attention to themselves. Very like hedgehogs, he thought.

Palomides spoke for the first time. "If it please your highness, we mean no disrespect to you or to the queen. We merely bear some news for her concerning her former maid, Lady Brangienne. It is of no interest to anyone but the queen, and if we may tell her, we shall leave at once and bother you no further."