At the Crossing Places (15 page)

S
TARS AND CROSSES! YES, AND LITTLE BLOBS AND
squares and splinters, thousands of tiny shapes scoot around inside my stone like water boatmen. Then somehow they begin to combine into shapes—human beings, animals, buildings…

“All right!” says the young woman. “I've insulted you each time you've defeated another knight. I've called you every foul name I know. I've refused to eat with you. Despite all this, you have never once answered back or raised your voice. No matter how much I've humiliated you, you've been courteous to me. Beaumains, you're no kitchen scullion.”

“If a man can't put up with a few barbed words,” Beaumains replies, “he won't be much of a knight. When your words made me angry, I turned my anger against my opponents—the six thieves, and the two river knights, and the Knight of the Black Lands and his brothers. You helped me to defeat them.”

“What is your true name?” the young woman asks.

“A man may be wellborn and he may be humbly born,” Beaumains replies. “I would rather people valued me for what I do.”

“Forgive me,” the young woman says in a soft voice, “all my insults.”

“They gave me strength,” Beaumains replies. “So think what your support will do.”

“You will need all your courage.”

“Will you tell me your name?”

“You have proved yourself, and so I will tell you. I am Lynette. My sister, imprisoned by the Knight of the Red Lands, is Lady Lyonesse.”

Lynette and Beaumains and his dwarf, Huon, are riding side by side through a pine forest. The bed of needles is springy under their horses' hooves. Soon they emerge onto a bright plain, and not far ahead is a beautiful small castle with strapping horse-chestnut trees and rings of mature oaks. Hundreds of men are camped beneath the castle walls. Smoke is rising from their campfires.

“What's hanging from those trees?” Beaumains asks.

“What you fear,” Lynette quietly replies.

Beaumains is horrified. He sees fully armed knights hanging by the neck from the lower branches of many of the trees. Their shields are slung over their shoulders. Their swords and gold spurs are hanging from their heels.

“This is Castle Perilous, my sister's castle,” Lynette says, “and each of these men tried to rescue her from the Knight of the Red Lands.”

For a while Beaumains stares at the grove of corpses. And now he counts them.

“Thirty-nine,” he says.

“And you'll be the next,” says Lynette, “unless you're stronger than they are.”

Now Beaumains sees a huge horn, made from the tusk of an elephant, hanging from a sycamore tree.

“Don't touch it!” cries Lynette. “Throughout the morning, the Knight of the Red Lands grows stronger, and at noon he'll have the strength of seven men.”

“I'm not going to wait,” says Beaumains. “I can overcome him, however strong he is.”

Beaumains raises the horn and blows it, and at once many knights and squires hurry out of tents, and up in the castle, white faces are framed in the little windows, eyes watch through dark arrow slits.

“There!” says Lynette, pointing to a high window.

Beaumains looks up and sees a lady dressed in white.

“Lady Lyonesse,” says Lynette.

“In her name I will fight,” Beaumains shouts. “I will rescue her!”

As if she has heard Beaumains's vow, Lady Lyonesse curtsies to him.

Now Beaumains hears the thumping of hooves. A knight rides right up to him.

“You can stop looking at her!” the knight bawls. “Look at me!”

The knight's armor is bloodred. His shield is red and his sword is red. And his horse is wearing boiled leather covered with scarlet cloth.

“My sister has no love for you,” Lynette says.

“You cannot force her to love you,” says Beaumains.

“I can force your words back into your mouth,” replies the Red Knight. “And these hanged men are my witnesses.”

“You disgrace each man who calls himself a knight,” Beaumains says.

“Have you finished?” asks the Red Knight, and he bares his teeth.

The two knights gallop towards each other, and I can hear metal squeaking and chirruping; leather groaning; the
crump-crump, crump-crump
of the horses' hooves. They drive their lances right into the middle of the other's shield: The two horses collide and their saddle straps snap, and the two knights are jolted over their horses' necks.

Slowly Beaumains stirs. He sits up, and the Red Knight gets to his knees. Now each man helps the other to his feet and draws his sword.

They cut and carve and chop until they're both completely out of breath. Beaumains's right arm is naked and the Red Knight's neck and left shoulder are naked. Their thighs and knees are unguarded. They stand facing each other, trembling and tottering.

All morning they fight. The Red Knight is as strong as seven men, and Beaumains matches him. They fight all afternoon. Wearily the Red Knight tries to shake the stars out of his head. Beaumains closes his eyes and he can scarcely open them again.

And now, without a word, the two knights sit down side by side.

Maybe it's the chill wind, or the cold water that squires bring to them, or maybe it's their own deep wells—but before long, both look revived, and Beaumains glances up.

Lady Lyonesse is still there, far-off and white and waiting. And
when she sees Beaumains, she raises both arms and leans forward smiling: She reaches right out of the dark frame.

The sight of her gives Beaumains new strength. He swipes, he hacks, he slashes, until at last the Red Knight's fingers loosen and his sword falls from his hand.

At once Beaumains swings his sword like a scythe and cracks the Red Knight on the side of his neck. The Red Knight collapses, and Beaumains pinions him and unstraps his helmet.

“Mercy!” mutters the Red Knight.

“Why?” barks Beaumains. “You showed none to these hanging knights.”

He looks at the ring of knights and squires surrounding him.

“This Red Knight deserves to die,” he says, “but I will spare him. He must lift this siege of Castle Perilous at once and release Lady Lyonesse. She does not love him, and he does not deserve her love. Then he must ride to King Arthur's court and submit to the king's will.” Beaumains glares down at the Red Knight.

“I swear to do all this,” the Red Knight croaks.

There was a clatter in my little room. I leaped up at once, ready for whatever was coming through the door. But it was only my tile, which had slipped from the place where I'd propped it up.

My seeing stone didn't wait for me, though. By the time I looked into it again, Beaumains had been unarmed and his wounds dressed. He was outside the castle's lowered portcullis, looking in, and Lady Lyonesse was on the other side, standing in the shadows.

“I thought I had won your love with my blood,” Beaumains says. “Almost all the blood in my body.”

“You cannot buy love any more than you can demand it,” Lady Lyonesse says. “Be patient! I know the dangers you have faced for me.”

“Then why is your portcullis closed?” Beaumains growls. “I deserve better.”

“Come back in twelve months,” Lady Lyonesse says softly. “Trust me. I will wait for you.”

Beaumains mounts his horse, and he and his dwarf, Huon, plod away from Castle Perilous. He is bone-weary. Heart-weary. After a while, they come to a lake, and Beaumains dismounts and lays his head on his shield. Half the night he lies wallowing and writhing.

Just before dawn, Beaumains does fall asleep at last. At once a dark shape steals up to Huon, clamps a hand over his mouth, picks him up, squealing and kicking, and lopes away.

As soon as my stone fills up with light again, I can see Huon standing in a small room with a knight in black, Lady Lyonesse, and her sister Lynette.

“Where am I?” Huon demands.

“In my castle,” replies the black knight.

“Who are you?”

“He's my brother, Gringamour,” Lady Lyonesse tells Huon. “I asked him to capture you. We'll let you go if you answer my questions.”

“What questions?” Huon repeats.

“Where was your master born?” Lyonesse asks. “Who is his father? His mother? What is his real name?”

Huon grins. “Is that all?” he says. “I'll tell you the truth. My master was born in Orkney. He's the son of a king and queen.”

“I knew it,” says Lyonesse.

“The son of King Lot and Queen Morgause. His name is Gareth. Now let me go.”

“All in good time,” says Lyonesse.

“When he finds out you've captured me,” Huon says, rolling his eyes, “he'll tear this castle to pieces.”

“Who are you to threaten me?” Sir Gringamour asks.

Huon wails, but Lady Lyonesse, Lynette, and Sir Gringamour turn their backs and lock the door behind them.

“Huon was telling us the truth about who his master is,” Lynette tells her sister. “I called Sir Gareth by every stinking name I know, but he never once answered me back. He's the most patient, well-bred man I've ever met.”

While they're at dinner, the three of them are interrupted by a terrible racket—a knight shouting and smacking his shield against the wall right under the hall window.

“You thief!” he yells. “Give me back my servant, Huon, or I'll tear this castle to pieces.”

Sir Gringamour leans out of the window. “Learn some manners, Gareth!” he shouts. “We're eating dinner.”

“No,” says Lady Lyonesse. “Let Gareth have Huon. And I…I will have Gareth.”

Lynette claps her hands and laughs.

“I love him and I long to talk to him,” Lady Lyonesse says, “but he mustn't know who I am.”

“I will bring Sir Gareth here, then,” Gringamour says, “and I'll set Huon free.”

“He has seen me only at a distance,” Lyonesse says to her sister,
“and then only in shadow, through a portcullis. I'll wear my cornflower dress and my silver-green wimple, and he won't recognize me.”

As soon as Sir Gareth sets eyes on Lyonesse, he feels flushed; and each time she smiles at him or speaks to him, his blood begins to seethe.

“Jesus, son of Mary,” he says to himself, “I've never seen such a woman. If only Lady Lyonesse were as beautiful as she is.”

All evening Sir Gareth and Sir Gringamour and Lady Lyonesse and Lynette, talk and play drafts. They play chess and sing and dance.

“Dear God!” whispers Gareth, “I've no appetite. My mouth has gone all dry. If she looks at me like that one more time, I'll go mad.”

Lady Lyonesse turns to Sir Gringamour, and he smiles and nods. And now she comes and sits beside Gareth. She pulls away her wimple, and her long dark hair waterfalls down her back.

“Do you recognize me?” she asks softly.

“I dare not,” Beaumains says, never for one moment taking his eyes off her.

“Who dares, wins,” says Lyonesse, and her voice is trembling. She slips both her hands inside Beaumains's large right hand.

“Lyonesse!” cries Beaumains. “Lady of Castle Perilous.”

“I love you for what you have done,” Lyonesse says. “I love you for who you are.”

“Lady,” says Gareth in a hushed voice, “I will love you for as long as I've breath in my body.”

“Your kitchen knight!” says Lynette, laughing and crying. “King Arthur's own nephew.”

“We must go to court,” Gareth says, “and ask King Arthur's permission to marry. He will feel the force of our love.”

Lyonesse gazes at Gareth. She takes his large hands between her own.

“In the morning,” she says quietly.

L
OST AND FOUND,” SAID A DARK, DEEP VOICE.

“Merlin!” I cried. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Ah!” said Merlin.

“Can you fly into people's thoughts?”

Merlin smiled gently. “You think I can do anything,” he said.

Merlin does know magic. Last Christmas he jumped forty-seven feet when we had our leaping contest. I saw him do that with my own eyes. “The salmon-leap,” he called it. Joan and Brian said they saw him flying on New Year's Eve, and once he just disappeared while we were on top of Tumber Hill.

Not only this. Merlin gave me the seeing stone. And he's the hooded man inside it who told the earls, lords, and knights that Arthur-in-the-stone is the trueborn king of all Britain.

Merlin gazed at me. “Well?” he asked.

“What I was thinking was that, since the day Arthur-in-the-stone was crowned, you've always been at his side. What kind of king would Arthur be without you?”

Merlin closed his eyes. “There comes a time,” he said in a melancholy voice.

“Oh Merlin!” I cried. “I'm so pleased to see you.” With both hands I grasped his cloak—the same old one he always wears,
earth-brown with grey patches. “I haven't seen anyone from Caldicot. Not since January. Not for four months.”

“I saw Gatty yesterday,” Merlin said. “I told her I would see you.”

“What did she say?”

“Say? What did you expect her to say?”

“I don't know,” I mumbled. “Something.”

“Mmm!” Merlin murmured. “When something's too deep for saying, is it worth saying anything?”

“I haven't seen her for so long,” I said. “Gatty walked all the way here, you know, and she slept up a tree. What are you doing here at Holt?”

Merlin stared at me solemnly, and then he opened the palms of his hands. “I'm passing,” he said.

Merlin is nothing like so good at telling as asking. He's like a deep well: If you stop winding the handle, the water doesn't come up! But, sitting in the sunlight, on the same flat rock where Rowena and Izzie chanted their love spells, I did find out that Nain has lost her only tooth, and Sian thinks she saw Spitfire in the hay barn, though she can't have done, and Lankin's wrist wound is healing. Merlin told me Joan will have to appear in front of Lord Stephen again at the next manor court, this time for not working on my father's land for an extra day, and he said Howell and Ruth were married in March, and Oliver still means to take me to Wenlock Priory to see how the monks paint their manuscripts.

“Oliver told me your mother was a nun,” I said. “And your father—he said…he said he was a demon.”

Merlin sighed and edged one toe into the water. “Is that what you think?” he asked.

“He told me terrible things about you.”

“Because he's afraid of me,” Merlin replied.

“The more I know about you the less I know about you,” I said.

After all this, Merlin finally told me the most important news of all. Last week—last Wednesday, on the ninth day of the month—Tanwen gave birth to a baby son.

Tanwen's son. Serle's son. Illegitimate.

But he won't be given away and he won't be lied to. He won't be unwanted. He will know who his own mother is and have her love.

“Will they stay at Caldicot?” I asked Merlin.

“I don't suppose Sir John will force her to leave,” Merlin replied. “Is that what you mean?”

“Serle thought he would,” I said.

“Now, Arthur,” said Merlin. “What about you?”

“You remember we talked about crossing-places,” I said, “and you told me they're never quite sure of themselves? Fords and bridges and foreshore. The place where England ends and Wales begins. Midnight and New Year's Eve. You said they're places and times where changes can happen.”

“Did I?” said Merlin, looking rather pleased.

“And in my seeing stone, I heard you tell King Uther that his newborn son was a child of the crossing-places.”

“Really!” murmured Merlin, closing his eyes.

“Merlin!” I cried. “I'm between my child-self and my man-self.
My squire-self and knight-self. Between Caldicot and Gortanore…Between my life here and the world of the stone.”

Merlin stared into the dark water. It seemed scarcely to be moving, though it was running fast. It looked like a mirror, slateshine, the same as Merlin's eyes.

“I'm at the crossing-places,” I said.

“On a quest,” Merlin replied, “is there anywhere else to be?”