The Quest of the Fair Unknown Page 9

  "Of course I felt it. You were squeezing me."

  "Not that! The Spirit! Did you feel the Spirit fall on you? Did your heart warm? Did you cry?"

  "Er, no," Beaufils said. Then, at the hermit's crestfallen look, added, "Sorry."

  "We must try again!" the hermit announced. "You must try harder! Simply believe that it will happen, and it will! This time we'll pray in tongues!"

  Beaufils leaped up on Clover's back. He had no idea what Brother Denys meant to do with his tongue, but Beaufils had had enough. "No, thank you," he said hastily. "The thing is, we're really looking for this Grail, and if you haven't seen one about, we should be moving on."

  "I see what it is," Brother Denys said sternly. "Your heart is hardened!"

  "Bad luck for me, I guess," Beaufils said, edging Clover away from the hermit. When he was well clear, he tapped the mule with his heel and trotted across the clearing to the place where the trail picked up again. A minute later Gawain and Ellyn joined him. Both were shaking with laughter. "You have to admit," Beaufils said, "that was a different sort of holiness than Father Rolbert's."

  They continued on through the Sacred Forest, hard riding all the way. The trail was still so narrow that they had to move single file between the close trees and shrubbery. So thick was the undergrowth that Beaufils, still in the front position, didn't see the next clearing until it was a few yards ahead of him, which gave him no time to slow Clover's trot. The three companions burst from the trees into the clearing, almost at the same moment, and a black-robed man jumped up from a tree stump. "Is it you?" he shrieked.

  Beaufils glanced uncertainly at the others, but they seemed as confused as he was, so he said, "I don't know about the others, but I'm certainly me, if that's what you mean."

  "Are you the Four Horsemen?" the man shrieked. He pronounced his words oddly, rolling his "r" sounds in the back of his throat. Again the companions exchanged glances. Finally Ellyn said, "I don't think so, sir. You see, I'm not a horseman."

  "And Glover here isn't a horse," Beaufils added.

  "Plus, there are only three of us," said Gawain. "Besides that, you're pretty close, though."

  The man in black seemed to relax. "Who are you then?" he demanded.

  Gawain said, "I am Sir Gawain, and I am on quest with Lady Ellyn and Le Beau Desconus here. We are seeking a miraculous object called the Holy Grail."

  "Le Beau Desconus?" the man said in his oddly accented speech. "The Beautiful Unknown?"

  "Yes, actually," Gawain said. "You're French?"

  "Yes. I am the Père d'Arbé, come to this place to await the coming millennium in prayer and penance."

  "Millennium?" Beaufils asked. "What's that?"

  Gawain winced and waved his hand sharply back and forth, clearly trying to stop Beaufils from asking, but it was too late. The Père d'Arbé's eyes lit up, and he said, "It is the Thousand Year Reign that will follow the time of Great Tribulation and precede the End of All Things!"

  "Oh," Beaufils said politely. "Thank you. I just hadn't heard—"

  "And the time is near!" the Père d'Arbé went on. "I've just finished a chart, and when I looked at my calculations, I couldn't believe what I was seeing! Within this month, twice seventy weeks of years from Daniel's vision of Jeremiah's prophecy, the Beast will arise!"

  "We'll keep our eyes open for it," Gawain said. "Look, we don't want to disturb you, but—"

  "I had calculated the dates before," the hermit said, "but I had forgotten that in the time of John the Divine, years had only three hundred and sixty days. That's why I was mistaken six months ago. I admit that I was wrong. But this time, I'm certain!"

  Gawain continued doggedly. "I'm sure you have other calculations to make, so we'll be leaving you now."

  "Aren't we going to ask about the Grail?" Beaufils asked, surprised.

  "Grail?" the Père d'Arbé asked. "What's that?"

  Gawain waved his hand again but Beaufils said, "It's this platter, or bowl, that we're looking for. It appeared at King Arthur's court, floating up in the air—"

  Beaufils got no further. The Père d'Arbé let out a shriek and said, "The cups of wrath, filled with the last seven plagues! They've begun! And at King Arthur's court, too! So I was right! Arthur is the Beast from the Sea! It's Arthur!"

  "Before you go any further," Gawain said, interrupting the hermit, "you ought to know that I am Arthur's nephew."

  "Then you are the Second Beast!" the man said. "Begone! I am one of the Two Faithful Witnesses, and you cannot hurt me!"

  The Père d'Arbé backed up against his hut, his limbs shaking. Gawain looked at him, the anger in his face slowly fading to pity, then jerked his head back to the forest. "Come on, let's go," he said. When the three friends were back among the trees, Gawain stopped and looked back at Beaufils. "I tried to warn you, lad."

  "What was wrong with him?" Beaufils asked.

  "Nothing we can help him with," Gawain replied. "I've met some of these birds before. There's a rule to follow here: If you ever hear anyone say the word millennium, don't ask them to explain what they mean." He sighed and added, "I'm starting to get tired of the Sacred Forest: isolated little huts, isolated holy men, and narrow little paths."

  "What would happen if we left the path?" Beaufils mused aloud.

  Gawain, who was leading again, stopped and looked over his shoulder at Beaufils. "I'd almost be willing to try it," he said.

  "Why don't we?" asked Ellyn.

  "Look how thick the shrubbery beside the path is," Gawain said. "If the whole forest is like this, we'll never get through."

  "All right," Beaufils said. "It was just a thought. Let's stay on the path and ride on to the next hermit."

  Gawain looked at him in silence, then began to laugh. "Touché, Le Beau. Off the path we go. You lead the way again, but don't go through too many tight squeezes. Remember that my horse is bigger than your mule."

  Beaufils dismounted, took Clover's head, then plunged at once into the thickest part of the underbrush. For several minutes, he bent back twigs and pushed aside leafy fronds, unable to see more than a few feet ahead. Behind him he heard Ellyn and Gawain crashing in his steps. Suddenly he was out of the thickets in an open, sun-dappled forest. Tall pines stood around, but all at least twenty feet apart. The delicious smell of the trees filled his senses, and a springy bed of pine needles softened his footsteps. It was as if he had stepped out of a world of noise and into one of silence. Even the sound of Ellyn and Gawain thrashing through brush behind him seemed far away.

  Then even their noise stopped. There was silence for a moment, broken at last by Gawain's reverent whisper. Glory.

  Beaufils grinned and clambered up onto Clover. "Let's go this way," he said.

  After half an hour of blissfully peaceful riding, they came to the edge of the forest and to their last hermit. Because the forest was so open in this area, they saw the hermit's cottage well before they came to it—a simple, homely hut where a man in a brown robe was feeding a few goats in the front yard. Gawain halted his horse.

  "Do we want to visit another one of these fellows?" he asked.

  Ellyn hesitated. "I have to admit," she said, "I feel as if I've had all the holiness I can manage for a day. Do you think this one's like the others?"

  Beaufils watched the man feed the goats for a moment, then said, "This one's already different from the others; he's taking care of someone else." Beaufils smiled and said, "Let's go look at the goats."

  As they approached, Beaufils saw that this man was quite old. He didn't have much hair, but what he had was pure white, and the lines on his face seemed very deep, as if they had been carved in stone. But when the three riders approached, the hermit smiled genially. "Good evening," he said. "You must be Sir Gawain and Lady Ellyn. And you"—he looked more closely at Beaufils—"must be the Fair Unknown."

  "How did you know?" Beaufils asked, returning the hermit's smile.

  "A friend told me to look for you," the hermit said. "I am Basil, the Her
mit of the Forest's Edge."

  "Not Brother Basil or Father Basil?" Beaufils asked.

  "Not unless it really matters to you," the hermit replied. "I spend most of my time with the goats, and they don't care much about titles. Would you like some bread and milk?"

  The travelers agreed, and dismounted. They cared for their mounts while Basil prepared a simple meal of brown bread, strawberries, and goat's milk to eat around an open fire in the yard. It seemed like a feast to Beaufils, and he ate with simple pleasure and gratitude, though he noticed that Gawain and Ellyn didn't seem thirsty. Basil said little at first, concerning himself only with his guests' needs, but after they had eaten, he asked, "And where have you been traveling today? In the Sacred Forest?"

  "Is it only one day?" Gawain asked. "It seems much longer."

  "How many hermits live in that forest anyway?" Ellyn asked.

  "Heaven only knows," Basil replied. "They go on for as long as the path continues. Did you enjoy meeting my fellow hermits?"

  Gawain snorted, Ellyn rolled her eyes, and Beaufils replied, "They haven't been very helpful. Are you really a hermit too? You don't seem much like them."

  "Yes, I'm really a hermit, too," Basil replied. "There's more goat's milk if anyone wants it."

  Gawain and Ellyn quickly covered the tops of their cups, but Beaufils said thank you and took some more. "Then if we had just stayed on the path," he said, "we would have come to you eventually, right?"

  "No," Basil replied. "There is one way in which I'm different from the others. To find me, you have to leave the path."

  "Then I wish we'd just gone around the forest and skipped the path entirely," muttered Gawain.

  "There's no way around it either," the hermit said.

  "Sir," Gawain said suddenly, "may I ask a question?"

  "You may ask anything, Sir Gawain."

  "You said that a friend told you we would be coming this way. Who was this friend, and how did he know?"

  "Was it a vision?" asked Ellyn.

  "Oh, no," Basil replied, chuckling to himself. "I don't see visions myself. You'll have to leave that to some of my fellow hermits. Did you meet Brother Denys? He could see a vision for you."

  "We met him," Gawain replied.

  "Did you cry for him? I hope so." Beaufils shook his head, and Basil sighed. "Poor Denys. He feels awful when his visitors don't cry. No, my friend is as real as you are, but I couldn't say how he knew you'd be along. I'm only a simple man; I don't understand how Scotus knows what he knows. But I've learned to trust him."

  "Scotus?" Gawain repeated.

  "That's the enchanter who cursed my father," Ellyn said indignantly.

  Basil nodded. "Yes, Lady Ellyn," Basil said. "I don't understand that either, but I was glad to hear that your father is better now." He glanced up at the darkening sky and said, "Forgive me for leaving you, but it is time for evening prayers. Excuse me."

  While the hermit said his prayers, the three friends decided that they would stay the night with Basil—"Even if it means we have to drink more goat's milk tomorrow," Gawain said—and then leave the forest and head north again. By the time Basil returned, Ellyn had already rolled up in her blankets and gone to sleep. Gawain was getting his bed ready, but when Basil appeared, the knight addressed him.

  "Excuse me, sir," he said, "I forgot to ask earlier. We're looking for something called the Holy Grail. I don't suppose you've heard of it, have you?"

  "Yes, Sir Gawain. I know the Grail," Basil said.

  "Oh," Gawain said, surprised. "That's helpful. Can you tell us where to find it?"

  "Oh, dear me, Sir Gawain, you will never find the Grail," Basil said.

  "What?"

  "Didn't you know? The Grail is someone else's quest. The best you can do this time is to help others along, the way you've been helping Le Beau Desconus and Lady Ellyn."

  Gawain took a moment to digest this, but he didn't seem to be disappointed. "Very well," he said at last, "and in which direction shall I help them tomorrow?"

  "Oh, they don't need you now," Basil said. "Good night, Sir Gawain."

  Basil went inside his hermitage, leaving Gawain standing uncertainly by the fire. At last he said, "I guess I can ask him in the morning what that means. You going to bed, Le Beau?"

  "In a while," Beaufils said. Though his muscles were weary, he was oddly wakeful. Gawain went to his blankets and almost at once was breathing the deep, calm breaths of sleep.

  "Gawain is a good man," said a voice at Beaufils's elbow. "I'm glad you've had a chance to travel with him."

  Beaufils smiled, recognizing Scotus's voice. "Yes," he said.

  "How have you found your journeying?" Scotus asked.

  "I enjoy meeting new people," Beaufils replied simply. "Even people who don't seem to enjoy meeting me."

  "That's a very good way to approach a quest."

  "Am I on a quest?" Beaufils asked.

  "Aren't you?"

  "I suppose I am. This thing about the Grail. But I didn't say I would come because I wanted to find the Grail; I just thought it would be nice to ride with Galahad some more. Then Galahad went off, so I came with Gawain." Beaufils frowned, thinking, then said, "The Grail isn't really my quest, I think."

  "Then do you have another quest?"

  Beaufils thought about this. "Well, there's the thing about looking for my father, as my mother said to do. But if that's what I'm doing, then should I be out here hunting the Grail with Gawain?"

  "Your father's as likely to be here as anywhere else, isn't he?" asked Scotus.

  "I suppose," Beaufils said, but he was still troubled.

  "Don't worry, son," Scotus said. "I've come to help. You've done all you can for Gawain, getting him through the forest, and now he has to go off alone. You're to go with Ellyn now for a while." Then Scotus was gone.

  VII. The Laborious Saint

  Gawain protested vehemently the next morning when Basil told him he had to go on alone. Arguing that he was responsible for Lady Ellyn's safety and that he couldn't leave her in the care of an untried youth like Beaufils, Gawain grew so mulish that Basil had to speak to him very sternly.

  "Sir Gawain," he said. "You still seem to feel that this is your quest, and that you shall have the ordering of it, but you are very much mistaken. I'm thinking about Lady Ellyn's quest. I know that you've sworn to protect fair womanhood, but protection is exactly what Lady Ellyn does not need. Le Beau Desconus is the only companion she requires."

  "But what if—?" Gawain said.

  "You can trust her to the Fair Unknown," Basil said with finality.

  At last, obeying with ill grace but submitting nonetheless, Gawain mounted his great black horse and rode off alone. Beaufils watched until he was out of sight, then turned to Ellyn. "So which way do you want to go?"

  "Me?"

  "You know as well as I do," Beaufils said.

  Ellyn smiled, closed her eyes, whirled around twice, and then pointed. "That way," she said. And they set off to the southeast.

  It was a pleasant journey, the two of them riding side by side, talking about everything that came to mind and being comfortably silent when nothing did. They stopped to admire flowers and watch deer and cool their feet in streams. Often they dismounted and walked, saying they were resting the animals but knowing it was really just for the fun of walking. They were on foot, in fact, when they came upon the knight.

  They had just gone up a hill and were starting down the other side when there he was, fully armored, in the middle of a field. He was on his knees, hands clasped and head bowed. They stopped in their tracks, staring, and then Beaufils recognized the knight's armor. "Sir Bors!" he exclaimed joyfully.

  The knight raised his head, lifted his visor, then said, "Beaufils? And a lady?" Then his eyes lit up. "And a horse!"

  "What happened to Sir Lionel?" Beaufils asked. "And where's your horse?"

  "Lionel and I separated a few days ago. We've joined a quest, you see, and we agreed that we could cover more g
round separately."

  "You're on a quest?" Beaufils asked, mildly interested. "It seems as if everyone's looking for something or other."

  "This isn't just any quest, lad," Sir Bors said, lifting his chin. "It is a high and holy quest of great spiritual import. Lionel and I met some of Arthur's knights two days ago, and they told us about a miraculous vision that appeared in Arthur's court. Everyone's off seeking it."

  "Oh," Beaufils said, nodding. "You're after the Grail."

  "Er, yes," Sir Bors replied. "How did you know?"

  "I was at the court when it appeared," Beaufils explained. "It was very pretty."

  "Then you must have been sent to me as a guide!" Sir Bors exclaimed.

  "Happy to help any way I can," Beaufils murmured.

  "And this horse, too!" Sir Bors said excitedly. "You may not believe this, but I was just praying for God to send me a horse when you rode up! Isn't that amazing?"

  "Except that this is my horse," Ellyn pointed out.

  "Sir Bors, this is Lady Ellyn of Carlisle," Beaufils said. "And her horse."

  "Your horse, my lady?" Sir Bors said.

  "That's right."

  "You wouldn't want to give him up?"

  "No."

  "Sell him?"

  "No."

  "Lend him?"

  "No."

  Sir Bors frowned with puzzlement. "I don't understand. I prayed and everything."

  Ellyn's face was growing stormy, and Beaufils thought it time to intervene. "Perhaps the two of you could share."

  "I wouldn't mind that," Ellyn said slowly. "But Sir Bors hasn't asked."

  "Oh," Sir Bors said. "Um ... could we share your horse for a bit?"

  "Of course," Ellyn said. Beaufils wondered why her eyes had begun to twinkle. "You climb on first, and then I'll get up behind you."

  Sir Bors thanked her graciously, then put his foot in the horse's stirrup and swung his leg over. "Ouch!" he said.