Parsifal's Page (11 page)

Lady Obie raised her eyes to the sky and cried out, "Then may the gods themselves send me a defender!"

"I'll fight him for you," said a pleasant voice. It was Sir Gawain.

"You?" Malchance demanded. "But you're one of my own men."

"No, I'm not. I just joined up for the ride. Lady Obie? I'll fight Malchance for you, if you like."

Lady Obie hesitated, then turned her nose up in the air. "No," she said at last. "I don't like you. You look like a fishmonger."

Sir Gawain laughed easily. "Despite my appearance, though, I really am a knight, and I'll happily bash your boy if you like."

"Well, I don't," Obie snapped. "So go away!"

Piers shook his head in bewilderment. Terence, sitting beside him, said softly, "Curious, isn't it? People make love so complicated for themselves."

Now a new player joined the discussion, the other lady who was standing beside Duke Lyppaut. "Sir knight?" she called down to Sir Gawain. "Will you really fight Malchance?"

"I already told him no, Obilot," Obie interjected. "He can't fight my battles if I don't want him to. It's in the code of chivalry."

"I'm here, too, you know," the lady replied. As she stepped up to the battlements, Piers saw that she was very young. "Sir knight, would you fight Malchance for me instead of for my sister?"

Sir Gawain chuckled. "It would be an honor, my lady. Just say the word."

"All right then," the young lady said. "Go to it."

Sir Gawain reached over and pushed Malchance off his horse. Malchance scrambled out of the dust, spluttering with fury. "Don't just stand there, you fools! Get him!"

"Here we go," Terence muttered, drawing a long sword from his saddle and spurring his horse ahead to join his master. Unarmed but of no mind to be left
behind, Piers followed at a gallop and took a place with his back to the castle walls. In a moment, Sir Gawain and Terence were both laying about with their swords, driving Malchance's unprepared captains back toward the rest of the army. Malchance himself, being on foot, had already scurried back to the lines, out of the way of the stomping horses. Then one of the captains raised his hands in the air in a signal for a halt. Sir Gawain and Terence stopped, but held their swords ready.

The knight who had called the halt leaned forward in the saddle. "Is that you, Terence?"

Terence cocked his head. "My name
is
Terence," he replied.

The knight opened the visor on his helm and showed a smiling face. "Well, how've you been, old man? It's me, Astor!"

"By Avalon!" Terence exclaimed. "How are you, friend? Did your master knight you already?" Terence glanced at Sir Gawain. "Astor used to be Sagramore's squire."

"Look here, Terence," Astor said. "You've got us on the run right now, but you know we outnumber you a hundred to one. Even with these clodpoles and dirt farmers we've got, you're going to be in trouble soon."

"Yes, that's true," Terence said. "But I don't see what to do about it."

Astor smiled. "Well, I was thinking of joining your side. I've no taste for fighting someone else's family quarrel. I've got a dozen men with me, skilled knights all. It should make for a good turn up, don't you think?"

Terence smiled. "What do you say, milord? Shall we?"

Sir Gawain nodded and handed Terence his shield. "Here, lad, don't take any chances. You've no armor on, after all. Well, fellows—Charge!"

And then the battle began. Piers, watching from the castle wall, could see little of what was going on. Occasionally he caught a glimpse of Sir Gawain's mountainous black horse, but he was not a very skilled observer of knightly combat, and most of the time he couldn't tell who was fighting whom. A few of the knights from inside the castle opened the castle gates and strolled out to watch. One was munching on some bread and cheese.

"You know, lads," the knight said between bites. "This is the best siege I've ever been part of."

"Hear, hear," the others replied. A few of them stretched out in the grass, so as more comfortably to watch their would-be besiegers fight each other.

Above Piers's head, on the wall, a female voice said, "I think my fishmonger has just knocked your betrothed off his horse again."

"He's not my betrothed, and you just shut up! This is all your fault, Obilot!" Lady Obie retorted.

"
My
fault! Well of all the poisonous cats!
I'm
not the one who sent Malchance off with a bug in his bottom. If you ask me, you don't know what you want, sister."

Lady Obie responded by bursting into tears.

The fight in the meadow seemed to be less confusing than it had been a few minutes before, and Piers realized that Malchance's "knights" were sneaking off and riding away in groups of two and three. Before the battle had gone half an hour, there were only a score of knights left on their feet, and most of those were the knights with Sir Gawain. Piers saw Malchance approach Sir Gawain, waving his sword. Sir Gawain nodded and dismounted, and the other knights backed away. Evidently they had decided to settle matters with single combat.

"I hope my fishmonger doesn't get hurt," young Obilot commented.

"Shut up, I tell you!" Obie snapped.

"Sir knight!" called Duke Lyppaut from the wall. "I'll give you a hundredweight of Roman gold if you promise not to hurt Malchance!"

Then the two knights fought. Even to Piers it was clear that Sir Gawain was never in any danger, although Malchance certainly attacked with great
vigor. At last, Sir Gawain knocked Malchance to the ground, stepped on his sword, and then pointed his own sword at Malchance's throat. Malchance yielded.

All the knights walked slowly back across the field toward the castle, just as Duke Lyppaut and his daughters stepped out of the gates. Malchance, who had led the way, fell to his knees before Lady Obie. "You were right, Obie. I'm only a child. I'm not worthy of you."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Sir Gawain said bracingly. "You fought well out there, and most important, you kept getting back up when I knocked you down. Best thing you could do."

"But you should never have knocked me down to start with."

"Oh, there's no shame in that. Everyone can take a fall. Even those of us from the Round Table."

Malchance looked up. "You're with the Round Table?" he asked.

"That's right. My name's Gawain."

In the hush that followed, only one voice spoke. "I guess that means you're not a fishmonger, doesn't it?" said Obilot.

Sir Gawain grinned, but turned his attention to Malchance. "So you see, you fought a famous knight, and you did well. I think you've proven yourself now. Perhaps the Lady Obie will consent to your request now."

Then, to everyone's surprise, Duke Lyppaut interrupted. "No, I say! She can't marry him!"

"What?" asked a dozen voices at once.

"How can I give my daughter to the man who attacked her family? No, no. It is impossible." Duke Lyppaut turned an ingratiating smile on Sir Gawain and continued. "It is much more fitting that she should marry her rescuer. Sir Gawain, I believe I've never heard that you were married."

Piers looked sharply at Sir Gawain, who was passing his hand over his eyes. Terence moaned softly, and Malchance and Obie looked at each other, aghast.

"No!" said young Obilot suddenly. "He can't marry Obie. After all, he fought for me. If he is to marry anyone, it should be me!" Now everyone turned their astonishment toward Obilot, but Piers did not miss the quick wink that Obilot gave to Sir Gawain.

Sir Gawain chuckled and knelt at Obilot's feet. "As you wish, my lady," he said.

"Wait just a minute, here!" came a new voice. It was the squire that Terence had met on the trail, Brevard. "You can't marry him, Obilot!"

"Why not, Brevard?" she asked.

"Well, you're ... you're too young. And you might still meet someone you like more."

"Like who, Brevard?" Obilot said demurely.

"Well ... like me."

Obilot smiled at Sir Gawain and shrugged. "Sorry, Sir Gawain," she said.

Piers was growing more and more confused, and from the faces around him he was sure that others felt the same way. Fortunately, at that moment, Obilot stepped into the center of the circle of onlookers and raised her hand. "All right, now, let's finish this. Father, you are ambitious and silly. Sir Gawain doesn't want to marry either of us, and so he shan't. Malchance and Obie, you are very boring, always fighting in public. I wish you would just go get married so you could fight in private. And as for you, Brevard, we shall talk of this further." And with a wave of her diminutive hand she dismissed the crowd.

Rising to his feet, Sir Gawain bowed and kissed Obilot's hand. "My lady, it has been a great pleasure, a very great pleasure, to meet you. Keep them in hand, will you?"

Then he mounted his black horse, turned his head back toward the woods, and he and Terence and Piers rode away. "Milord?" Terence said, as they crested a hill.

"Yes, lad?"

"Let's try to the northwest."

"Why?"

"I was just talking with Astor. He says that there's a red knight in Wales who's been winning all sorts of battles."

They rode toward Wales, leaving the fields and plains and then climbing wooded hills. Piers was still often startled by the casual manners that Sir Gawain and his squire used with each other, as if they were equals, but as time went on he began to lapse into the same familiar manner. At the knight's insistence, Piers even stopped using the full title
Sir
Gawain, and began calling him simply Gawain.

It would have been hard to stay too formal, anyway, given the division of duties in their camps. Everyone pitched in and did part of the work, and no task was considered below anyone. Terence did all the hunting and cooking, and Gawain cleaned and oiled his own armor—a squire's task if there ever was one. After the first day, Piers took over caring for the horses. Gawain's black horse sometimes snapped at him and
always watched Piers suspiciously, but Piers was used to fidgety horses. He had often held horses while his father shod them.

"You seem to be good with horses, Piers," Gawain commented. "Guingalet there doesn't usually let strangers curry him."

Piers was pleased, but said only, "I've never been afraid of horses."

"Nothing wrong with being afraid of Guingalet," Terence remarked. "He's half devil. He's a bit calmer these days, but when he was young, no one could get close to him but Gawain."

"Shush," Gawain said. "You'll hurt his feelings." He glanced fondly at his horse. "Don't listen to him, old fellow. I know you're as nasty as ever."

They rode into the Welsh hills, still heading north, meeting no one that they could ask about a red knight. On the third day, though, Piers felt a growing excitement. The woods around him looked the same as always, but now he had an odd sense of expectation. At midafternoon they came upon a castle in the woods. Gawain drew up at the edge of the forest. "What do you think, Terence?"

"I don't know, milord. Have you been feeling it, too?"

"Ay, something not natural in the air."

"Not bad, though," Terence added. "Just...
uncanny. Why don't you and Piers go and ask after the red knight, while I scout around outside?"

Gawain nodded, and Terence slipped soundlessly from his saddle and seemed to melt into the forest. "Come on, Piers," Gawain said.

They rode into the cleared area before the castle, where a trail of smoke rose from a sturdy stone cottage outside the gates. As they drew near, a rough-looking man stepped out and raised his hand in silent greeting.

"Hello," Sir Gawain called. "Is this castle inhabited?"

"Ay," the man said. "What do you want?" Gawain raised his eyebrows, and the man smiled ruefully. "Didn't mean to be rude. We get few visitors. My name's Waleis, and I'm the reeve here—and chief gamekeeper and steward and if the master were a bit more grand, I'd be called the seneschal too. If you need anything, you may as well ask me first, because you'll get sent back out to me anyway."

Gawain nodded. "We're looking for a red knight that we've heard has been in these parts. Have you any word of him?"

Waleis shook his head. "Nay. You're the first outsider to stop here in near six months."

"I see," Gawain said. "Then perhaps, since the day is closing, your master would allow us to stay the
night in his castle. It would be pleasant to sleep in a bed again."

Waleis nodded. "No harm in that. And the mistress will be glad of the company." Waleis bit his lip and frowned, as if he had more to say, and Gawain waited. Waleis said, "I suppose I'd best just tell you. The master's a bit odd. Never quite got over the old master's death—his father, you know. Keeps to himself mostly."

"Oh? If it would be better for us not to stay—"

"Nay, that's not what I meant. I only wanted to warn you that you may see the master and you may not. In any case, his sister will make you welcome. You'll come to no harm inside."

Gawain nodded. "Thank you, friend. My squire is on the trail behind us and may come up at any time. If he arrives, would you send him in please?"

Waleis acknowledged Gawain's request with a careless wave and then went back inside his cottage. Gawain and Piers rode through the open castle gates into the courtyard.

Two ladies stood in the courtyard, washing clothes in a large tub and talking, but when they saw Gawain they dropped everything and ran with a shriek into the castle keep. "What do you think's wrong with them?" Gawain asked. "Usually kitchen maids aren't so excitable."

"They weren't kitchen maids," Piers said confidently. "Their gowns were too fine. Those were ladies-in-waiting." Gawain looked at Piers with amusement, and Piers explained, "My mother was a lady-in-waiting, too. Those ladies probably ran inside because they didn't want a knight to see them doing menial work."

Gawain pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I see. The reeve did say they weren't used to company. So now I suppose they'll braid each other's hair and sprinkle themselves with
eau de toilette
before coming out again. Shall we put up the horses while we wait?" Piers grinned and nodded.