The Squire's Tale Page 8

  "Imagine!" Gawain said.

  And that, Terence thought, was the last time that Gawain had spoken. For two hours now Lady Alisoun had described bloody jousts and bloodier sword-fights that she had seen and the various knights she had ridden with, all of whom seemed to have earned great glory before being cut off in the prime of their lives by some recreant knight or another. Lady Alisoun talked a lot about recreant knights, by which she apparently meant any knight with whom she did not herself ride, but she held no grudges against them, and described their prowess in killing her escorts in the same glowing terms which she used to describe her own knights' deeds.

  "And then," Lady Alisoun was saying, "after cutting Sir Nimilake's legs off at the knees, Sir Winchell laid one of them at my feet, saying that it was my own inspiration which inspired him to win so awful a fight in such a sanguine way, which really was not very pleasant because it was still bleeding, of course, but which was really very touching, all things considered. I do think Sir Winchell may have been the greatest knight who's ever served me, because he had such a flair for the dramatic, don't you think so? At least he did until Sir Abelleus killed him with a mace. I don't think people ought to be allowed to use maces in combat, because, for one thing, they're really not much different from clubs, which seems so unrefined, and if there's anything I can't stand, it's something that's unrefined."

  "Did you say Sir Abelleus?" Gawain interrupted.

  "That's right. Oh, he's a terrible fighter, he is, a regular Heckler of Troy. He's as strong as an ox. I hope we meet him again, so you can kill him for me."

  "I don't think I'll be able to," Gawain commented.

  That silenced Lady Alisoun, though only for a second, while she gaped at Gawain. "Well, I don't mean he's that fierce," she said finally.

  Gawain grinned at her and said, "I mean Abelleus is already dead."

  Lady Alisoun clapped her hands joyfully and said, "Wonderful! Oh, wonderful! Did you kill him?"

  "I'm afraid not, but I was there when it happened, and I promise you that he bled freely. Sir Tor, the young knight I was with earlier, did the actual killing."

  "Oh." She looked regretfully over her shoulder. "Well, how did it happen?"

  "He cut off his head," Gawain said.

  "Perfect! Just what Abelleus did to Sir Winchell! What did he do with the head? Abelleus stepped on Sir Winchell's head."

  Gawain looked solemn. "Well, there was a lady there at the time who had shown herself to be bloodthirsty beyond what is fitting in a lady—or in fact in anyone—so Sir Tor tied Abelleus's head around her neck."

  "Oh," Lady Alisoun said.

  "Fitting, don't you think?" Gawain asked blandly.

  "Oh yes," she agreed after a second. "I can't stand women who are unladylike, can you?"

  "I don't really know what is ladylike and what is not, but I certainly couldn't stand this lady."

  Terence chuckled, and Lady Alisoun glanced sharply back at him. She looked back at Gawain. "Have you ever cut off someone's head?"

  Gawain frowned for a second, then said, "If I have, would you consider it a great deed?"

  "Oh yes," she said immediately.

  "Then it wouldn't be very knightly of me to boast, would it? A knight should be modest."

  "Oh, but you don't have to be modest in front of me. I'm your lady, after all."

  "On the contrary," Gawain said firmly. "A knight should be especially modest in front of a lady."

  "Oh," Lady Alisoun said, frowning. "But if you don't tell anyone about your great deeds, people might think you haven't done any at all."

  Gawain shook his head very slightly. "But that's the whole point, don't you think?"

  Lady Alisoun looked confused, but she pressed on. "No. To do great deeds and then keep them secret sounds absolutely daftheaded to me. I perfectly understand that a knight mustn't seem boastful, but you could tell me about your great deeds, and then I could tell others." Gawain only shook his head. "Well I never!" Lady Alisoun said, exasperated. "Don't you want people to know your triumphs?"

  "Oh yes," Gawain said. "Very much. In fact, that's why I keep them secret: because I suspect I want them known rather too much."

  "I don't understand you at all!" Lady Alisoun said, and for once Terence sympathized with her.

  "I can't blame you for that," Gawain said agreeably. He touched Guingalet with his heel and trotted ahead of Lady Alisoun.

  Soon the forest thinned and the travelers began to come upon settled lands: farms, grazing lands, and on a distant rise what looked like a castle. Gawain slowed then stopped, saying, "Do you hear something, Terencer?"

  Terence listened to the wind. "Horses, milord. Quite a few of them."

  "Let's go see. Maybe we can cut off someone's limbs for Lady Alisoun," Gawain said. They topped a rise and saw a field full of knights in armor. On one side of the field were ten knights in a silent row. On the other side, one knight sat his horse alone. While they watched, the first of the row of knights lowered his lance and charged the lone knight. The lone knight unhorsed his attacker easily and trotted back to his side of the field. Then the second knight attacked, and the lone knight knocked him head over ears into the dirt. The third knight met the same fate. Terence glanced at Gawain, who was watching the proceedings with a smile.

  "Well?" Lady Alisoun said witheringly. Gawain looked at her in polite surprise.

  "Well what?" Gawain asked.

  "Aren't you going to do anything?"

  Gawain frowned. "What would you like me to do, my lady?"

  "Help that poor knight who is fighting alone of course!"

  "Does he appear to you to need help?" The fourth and fifth knights went down before the lone knight's lance.

  "Don't you think ten against one is unchivalrous?" Lady Alisoun demanded.

  "I do. But this is ten times one against one. When they all attack him at once I'll go help."

  "You know what I think? I think you're afraid!"

  Gawain gave her a brief glance that indicated no interest whatsoever, and she lapsed into a furious silence.

  The three of them watched until the last of the ten knights had been unhorsed. "Here now, what's this?" Gawain said.

  The lone knight had dismounted and was walking toward the cluster of defeated knights, holding his hands out before him. Immediately, the ten knights bound his hands securely and began slapping him and spitting on his armor. The lone knight made no move to defend himself. While Gawain and his party watched, one of the ten knights caught the lone knight's horse. Shouting triumphantly, the ten knights looped ropes around the lone knight, tying him to the underside of his horse, his face looking up between his horse's hind legs.

  "What is he doing, milord?" Terence gasped.

  "I haven't a clue, Terence."

  "Now will you go help him?" Lady Alisoun demanded.

  "I can do many things," Gawain commented, "but I can't help someone who doesn't want help. If he didn't want to look up his horse's nether eye, he could have just ridden away."

  "You think he wanted to end up like that?" Lady Alisoun was scornful.

  "Seems so, doesn't it?"

  "That's ridiculous!"

  "Can't argue with that," Gawain replied. They watched while the ten defeated knights mounted and rode off, leading their humiliated captive. When they were out of sight, Gawain said, "Let's move on."

  Lady Alisoun looked at Gawain with such contempt on her face that Terence itched to shake her and tell her all about Gawain's battles with Ablamor and Alardin and Hautubris, but if Gawain chose to let her think he was afraid, then Terence would too. Ten minutes later, two knights met them on the path. One was of medium build and wore a jaunty feather in his helm, and the other was considerably larger and wore his visor down.

  "Hallo," the knight with the feather called. "Come far?"

  "Good day," Gawain answered. "Not too far, just from the forest."

  "Off questing, eh?" The knight grinned. He had a fair, pleasant face, and a few strands o
f sandy hair framed his face within his open helm.

  "Ay. You?" Gawain responded.

  "No, not questing exactly, but so long as I've put this bleeding armor on, I wouldn't mind seeing a bit of action. I don't suppose you'd like to take a few passes with me in joust, would you?"

  To Terence's surprise, Gawain agreed immediately. The jousting posts were decided upon in a nearby pasture, and the two rode off, leaving Terence, Lady Alisoun, and the other knight alone to watch. The first pass ended with no one the worse. Gawain had wheeled Guingalet to the left just before the lances came together, making the fair knight's lance miss him by several feet, while Gawain tapped him on the back with the point of his lance as he went by. The fair knight laughed and shouted something over his shoulder. Lady Alisoun grunted, "Just the sort of cowardly motion I'd expect from him." Terence flushed angrily.

  On the second pass, Gawain unhorsed the fair knight neatly, then dismounted and suggested swords for a while. The two knights began sparring with their swords, circling each other slowly, choosing their hits carefully. The fair knight was not a bad swordsman, but even to Terence's inexperienced eye it seemed that Gawain was not trying very hard.

  For the first time, the knight with the hidden face spoke, to Lady Alisoun. "Have you some reason, fair lady, to doubt your knight's courage?"

  Lady Alisoun laughed scornfully. "Not half an hour ago we saw one knight pitted against ten, and this yellow dog refused to help him. Even when the ten knights captured their valiant foe in the most humiliating way, he would do nothing!"

  Terence gasped. "It wasn't like that at all!" he declared hotly.

  The knight leaned menacingly over his saddle, his hand on his sword hilt, and said, "Do not contradict a lady, boy, else you shall taste my blade." Terence stared at him, shocked. No knight of Arthur's court would ever have threatened a squire.

  "See? He doesn't even teach his squire well," Lady Alisoun declared, pink with pleasure.

  The knight turned back to her. "It is indeed a pity that so entrancing a lady should be bound to so wanting a knight."

  "Oh, I'm not bound to him, exactly," she said, her eyes downcast.

  "No? Ah, but perhaps it is best that you should have such a knight to follow. He will do his best to avoid danger, and thus you shall be spared the sight of pain and suffering."

  "I don't mind pain and suffering," she said earnestly.

  "Do you not? But then you have not seen the sort of bloody battles which I fight every day. I promise you, it is no sight for a lady."

  "Really?" Lady Alisoun's eyes shone. "Very bloody?"

  "Horribly," he replied promptly.

  "I wish I could see them," she responded rapturously.

  "Why, you can, if you choose to ride away with me, now, my lady," the knight said. "Since you have plighted no troth to this knight, of course."

  Lady Alisoun did not hesitate, "Yes, let's!"

  Terence could not believe it. Before he could decide whether to say anything, they were gone. He turned back toward the sparring knights, wondering if Gawain would be angry with him for letting her go.

  About half an hour later, panting and wheezing with exertion, the fair knight held up his hand and said, "Enough! You're just playing with me, aren't you?"

  Gawain raised his visor and grinned. "Well, yes. A bit."

  "It's too hot to continue. What do you say to a tankard of the best home-brewed in the country? There's an inn just over the way where they take real pride in such things."

  "Sounds wonderful." Gawain smiled. "I'm Sir Gawain, from Camelot."

  "Camelot? Really? Do you mean I fought a knight of the Round Table?"

  "You did."

  "Well, won't father be tickled! I'm Sir Carados. My father's the Earl hereabouts, and—I say, where's your lady? And that other knight?"

  "Don't you know that other knight?" Gawain asked.

  "No, we'd just met when we came up to you. Where are they?"

  "They left some time ago," Gawain replied, unperturbed. He smiled at Terence and said, "My only fear was that you would interfere, lad, and convince her to stay. You don't mind losing her, do you, Terence?"

  Terence sighed happily.

  ***

  An hour later, seated around a table with three tankards of smooth, warm beer in front of them, Gawain turned to his new companion and asked, "Say, Carados, as the Earl's son, you must know most of the people in the area."

  "All of them, I expect," Sir Carados said, wiping froth from his lips.

  "Today we saw an interesting sight: one knight fought ten, defeated them, and then let them tie him up and take him away. Now who—"

  "Odd, isn't it? He does it all the time," Sir Carados interrupted.

  "Why?"

  "Sad, really. Those knights belong to the lady he loves, the Lady Ettard. You probably saw her castle on your way in, on that hill to the east. He lets them take him captive, because that's the only way he can see her."

  Gawain blinked. "I see," he said. "Then I could find him at Lady Ettard's castle tomorrow?"

  "I doubt it. She usually throws him out after a night in her dungeons."

  "Where might I find him, then?"

  "Dalinbrook Castle, hard by the forest, not two hours from here," Sir Carados said. "His name's Sir Pelleas."

  8. Pelleas the Stupid

  At nine o'clock the next morning, after a pleasant evening spent with Sir Carados's family, Gawain and Terence arrived at Sir Pelleas's Dalinbrook Castle. The gate was open, and a few servants stood around, listlessly sweeping the path.

  "Seems he's not home yet," Gawain said.

  They waited outside the gate for about twenty minutes before Sir Pelleas arrived, carrying his helm on his saddle. His armor was dusty and stained, and his face drawn and weary. When he saw Gawain and Terence, though, he stopped abruptly, looked almost pleased, replaced his helm, and readied his lance.

  "Sir Pelleas!" Gawain called.

  "Make ready for battle, recreant knight!" Sir Pelleas shouted back.

  "I'm not a recreant knight, and I won't make ready for battle!" Gawain replied promptly.

  "I beg your pardon?" Sir Pelleas raised his visor and looked at Gawain, puzzled.

  "And I'm not from Lady Ettard," Gawain added.

  "Oh, I see." Sir Pelleas drooped. "Well, what do you want, then?"

  "I'm a wandering knight in search of adventures. I would like to hear more about your plight. Perhaps I can help."

  Sir Pelleas trotted closer, his face downcast. "I thank you for your offer, O knight, but there is no help for one such as I. My life is doomed to despair and disappointment."

  "Oh, I daresay it's not so bad as all that," Gawain said bracingly. "Perhaps you could tell me about it inside." He gestured toward the open gate. "After you've cleaned up, of course," he added.

  Sir Pelleas sighed deeply, then said, "Very well. To recount my woes can only be painful to me, but I shall grant your wishes, I, whose own wishes are so far from being granted."

  An hour later, Sir Pelleas joined Gawain and Terence in a somber, rather chilly room. "Forgive me for taking so long, O knight. Lady Ettard's dungeons have a great many insects."

  Sir Pelleas was a strong-looking, exceptionally handsome knight, with a carefully trimmed chestnut beard covering a firm chin. He wore a richly woven maroon blouse, trimmed all over with gold lace, and burnished black stockings. If he was a bit sober in appearance, he was at least elegant. "I am Sir Gawain, of the Fellowship of the Round Table," Gawain said. "I am sworn to help those in distress, and so I offer you whatever services are in my power."

  "I thank you," Sir Pelleas said. "But nothing is in your power."

  "Suppose you tell me your ... your woes," Gawain invited.

  Sir Pelleas sighed and signed for Gawain to be seated. Terence stood beside his chair while Sir Pelleas paced.

  "I love the most beautiful woman in the world," he began, his eyes fixed dreamily on the rafters. "She is the most perfect example of ladyhood to be fou
nd. In no matter is she lacking. Her nose is a vessel of beauty, straight and white, which no desecrating freckle has ever been permitted to touch. I've written a sonnet to her nose. Would you like to hear it? It goes: 'J'entends de la musique, c'est son museau, son nez—'"

  Gawain choked. Sir Pelleas stopped reciting and waited patiently. Gawain spoke before he could continue. "In French, of course."

  "The language of love," Sir Pelleas sighed.

  "But you're not a French-speaker yourself, are you?"

  "Well, I'm not really fluent, but—"

  "Yes, well, my own French is a touch rusty," Gawain said, "but I don't think you should call your lady's nose a museau. It means snout."

  "Really? But I thought that the similarity in sound with musique was so effective."

  "Ah, I daresay I'm mistaken," Gawain said affably. "I think, though, that I have grasped the perfection of your lady's nose. Perhaps we can move on."

  "Ah, her eyebrows—" Sir Pelleas sighed dreamily. Gawain let out his breath and sank into his chair. After close to half an hour of rapturous description that included eyebrows, eyelashes, eyes, ears, hair, cheeks, neck, waist, and a full ten minutes on lips, Sir Pelleas caught his breath with a sob and concluded, "But she'll have none of me!"

  Gawain let him sob for a moment, then said, "And ... what made you fall in love with this paragon?"

  Sir Pelleas looked surprised. "Can you doubt it? It was love at first sight!"

  "I see. But you have spoken to her, haven't you?"

  "I am a newcomer to this land. I had never spoken to her before I pledged her my undying love."