The Savage Damsel and the Dwarf (18 page)

At last they turned back toward Sir Lancelot's cabin. Taking a short way through the forest, they came upon a meadow, and in the meadow was a knight on a huge black horse. The knight was fully armored, and his visor hid his face, but as soon as Gaheris saw him, he chuckled and said, "Well, of all people!"

Lynet had drawn into the shadows to let the stranger pass by, but at Gaheris's words she said, "Do you know this knight?"

"I'd know that devil horse anywhere," Gaheris said
lightly. He urged his horse forward, out of the trees, and called out, "Hallo, Gawain! You lost?"

The knight turned and removed his helm, revealing an open, friendly face that was at the same time somehow wild and untamed. "Gary?" he said. "Good Gog, Gary, I'm glad to see you!"

While the two brothers embraced with obvious affection, Lynet stared with awe at Gawain, the great knight whose exploits had been told in banquet halls almost as long as she could remember. He was a mountain of a man, but his eyes were kind and reassuring. "Gawain, this is Lady Lynet of Perle. I'm going to marry her."

Lynet rode forward, a bit shyly. Gawain greeted her warmly, and with great grace and even greater sincerity kissed her hand and declared himself her servant. It was quite the most courtly and gracious greeting that Lynet had ever received. Gaheris cuffed his brother on the shoulder and said, "Enough of that, now. What are you doing in these parts?"

"Well you should ask, you bothersome puppy," said Gawain with a snort. "I'm looking for you and your witless brother."

"He's your brother, too, I believe," Gaheris pointed out.

"Not when he acts like a ninny. Well? Is Gareth here?"

"Ay," Gaheris said. "He's up at the local manor, a place called the Castle Perle."

"No, he's not," Lynet said suddenly. A movement at the far end of the meadow had just caught her eye. A knight in familiar black armor sat on a horse at the edge of the clearing. "He must have decided to take the air, because he's right over there."

Gawain and Gaheris followed her eyes. Gawain called out, "Gareth?"

Gareth rode forward, his hand on his sword hilt. "Is it indeed you, Sir Gawain?"

"A bit formal, aren't you, brother? Yes, it is indeed I. And I'm glad to see you looking so—"

"Silence!" Gareth snapped suddenly. His visor was raised, and his face was taut and unsmiling. "I have heard that you have been declaring yourself a greater knight than Sir Lancelot!" Gareth said belligerently.

"Eh?" Gawain replied.

"That's not what Uncle Gringamore said," Lynet interjected. "He only said that some people had said—"

"It is a lie!" Gareth declared.

"Very well," Gawain said agreeably. "Where have you been keeping yourself, boy?"

"Did you not hear me, Sir Gawain?" Gareth snapped. "I called you a liar. Neither you nor anyone else shall declare you to be greater than Sir Lancelot! I have sworn to defend Sir Lancelot's honor at all costs! Draw your sword, Sir Gawain!"

"No," said Gawain.

"Don't be an ass, Gareth," said Gaheris.

Gareth drew his sword and spurred his horse forward, shouting, "For the honor of Sir Lancelot! I shall prove thee no match for him!"

Lynet did not see the beginning of the fight. Gaheris grabbed her horse's bridle and turned it sharply away, leading her out of the way of Gareth's headlong attack. When she was finally able to turn around and watch, both Gawain and Gareth had dismounted, and for the third time Lynet watched Gareth attack an opponent who refused to fight back. Gawain parried every attack—although much more easily than either Sir Perimones or Gaheris had—but refused to attack in turn.

"Look here, lad," Gawain was saying. "You don't really think that it will do anything for Lancelot's honor if you kill me, do you?"

"I've sworn an oath!" Gareth said, panting. He redoubled his efforts, but Gawain fended off every blow, seemingly without effort.

"What can we do?" Lynet asked Gaheris.

"What we need is a fish," Gaheris commented lightly. "You don't happen to—"

"How can you be so calm?" Lynet asked. "Those are your brothers."

"Oh, he won't hurt Gawain," Gaheris said calmly. "People like Gawain and Lancelot are naturals, far beyond the reach of the rest of us."

"And what if Gawain hurts Gareth?"

"I've got no problem with that. I tried to hurt him myself just a couple of nights ago."

"But that was because you were jealous," Lynet said. "Now you aren't. Please try to stop him."

Gaheris shrugged in careless acquiescence and rode a few steps forward. "Gareth, listen. What if Gawain were to write a note saying that he believed Lancelot was the world's greatest knight? You'd do that, wouldn't you, Gawain?"

"Sure. No skin off my nose," Gawain said.

"It is not enough!" gasped Gareth. "I must restore Sir Lancelot's honor!"

Gaheris threw up his arms in disbelief. "And how do you think you're going to do that, you crack-brained block? Kill your brother? Listen, you bed-wetting sapskull—"

"Does he really wet the bed?" interrupted Gawain. "I never knew that."

"You never had to share with him. Don't interrupt, now—"

Gareth swung a mighty blow at Gawain, his breath coming in great ragged gasps. Lynet felt her heart go out to him. His odd notions of honor had trapped him. First, they had led him to make a silly vow; now they wouldn't let him forget it. He'd never rest until he convinced himself that he'd fulfilled his oath.

"Look here, Gareth," Gaheris was saying. "Lancelot
doesn't need you to save his honor. Just because one knight unhorsed him doesn't mean—"

"And it wasn't even me," Gawain pointed out, dodging a ponderous chop. "It was that chap Sir Wozzell."

The answer came to Lynet in a flash. "What did you say, Sir Gawain?" she called out. "Sir Wozzell? How do you know about Sir Wozzell?"

"Sir Wozzell was the, ah, the foreign knight who defeated Sir Lancelot," Gawain said.

Lynet gasped, as if utterly astonished. She could feel Gaheris's eyes on her, but she did not look at him. "But ... Sir Wozzell ... that was the name of the knight you defeated the other night, Sir Gareth!" Lynet declared.

There was a sudden silence. Gareth stopped, almost in midswing, and stared at Lynet. A slow grin spread across Gaheris's face, and he lifted his voice proudly. "Don't you see what this means, lad? It means that you have already restored Sir Lancelot's honor! You have fulfilled your vow!"

Gareth collapsed on his knees and lifted his face to the sky. "Thanks be to Heaven!" he said reverently.

There was no longer any point in waiting, so Lynet and the three knights rode to the Castle Perle together. When Lyonesse realized that Gareth's brothers, especially the famous Sir Gawain, had come to her castle,
she was almost beside herself with delight and ordered a banquet prepared at once.

At the banquet, Gareth provided the entertainment, telling the tale of his adventures. Lynet could follow the basic events—Gareth's battles with Sir Kai, with the band of thieves, with the black and green and pink and blue knights, and of course with the Knight of the Red Lands—but beyond that outline, she recognized little of the story. Gareth's account had little room for anyone except himself. Only by one or two casual references could a careful listener know that Lynet, and an unnamed dwarf, had accompanied the hero. Gaheris, who was supposedly hearing the story for the first time, clearly thought it was great fun, and Lynet had to avoid Gaheris's eyes if she was to keep from giggling.

Only after the banquet had drawn to an overdue conclusion and everyone had purportedly gone to bed could Lynet and Gaheris meet with Gawain and tell him the true story. He enjoyed it immensely. He did not seem at all surprised to hear about the role that his squire Terence had played, and he knew the little elf Robin well. Only one detail did Lynet and Gaheris leave out: the true identity of Jean le Forestier.

It was almost dawn before Gawain and Gaheris went to their beds, but Lynet was filled with that same magical wakefulness that had kept her up on the night of the half moon. Following some undefined
impulse, she left her room and walked out into the night, toward Sir Lancelot's cabin. She had not gone twenty yards past the gate before she was aware of a presence beside her. "Robin?" she asked, unperturbed.

"The same, my lady," came the reply. "You've done well. I told you that you had potential."

Another voice, from her other side, chimed in. "He's right," he said. It was Terence. "We at the Seelie Court are proud of you."

Lynet blushed in the dark. "Thank you. Squire Terence—your grace, I mean—"

"Just 'Terence' is fine," the squire said.

"Did you know that Sir Gawain is here?"

"So I hear. Perhaps I'll come join you at the castle when it's light. I've missed him while he's been away."

They walked together in pleasant quiet through the meadow and into the forest. "Do you know where you're going, my lady?" asked Robin.

Lynet nodded. "I want to thank Jean le Forestier—Sir Lancelot—again. Gaheris and I will be going north soon, and I don't know if I'll ever see him again."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that, my lady," said Robin with a merry chuckle. "Lancelot's story isn't over yet."

"No one's story is over yet," Terence said quietly, and the first cool rays of sun began to filter through the woods where they walked.

Thus did Sir Gareth, whom Sir Kai had called Beaumains upon scorn, achieve his mighty quest. For he slew the Knight of the Red Lands, one of the most perilous knights alive, and by dint of a mighty battle with a wizard named Sir Wozzel in the night, did restore honor to Sir Lancelot du Lac.

In the fullness of time, report of these matters came to Camelot. The whole court of King Arthur was sore astonied when they heard that the kitchen knave they had known as Beaumains was none other than Sir Gareth, but the king was wonderly pleased at the report of Sir Gareth's victories. He declared a great tournament in Sir Gareth's honor, and all the knights of the land came to vie with each other for the prize. Only Sir Gaheris, the older brother of Sir Gareth, did not
compete. "No thanks," quoth Sir Gaheris. "Tournaments are boring, and I always lose anyway.
"

Sir Gareth did many great deeds in the tournament, and when the day was done, he was given much worship. The next day, to the joy of all Arthur's court, Sir Gareth was wed to the fair Lady Lyonesse of Cornwall. All who beheld the couple declared that ne'er had so handsome a knight wed so beautiful a maiden. At the same time, Sir Gaheris was wedded to the Lady Lynet, younger sister to Lady Lyonesse. They looked all right, too.

Sir Gareth became renowned among all King Arthur's knights, for not only was he skilled with lance and sword, but he was replete with all the graces and courtesies of chivalry. Lady Lyonesse, too, became well known. Of all the ladies of Camelot, only Queen Guinevere herself was held in greater honor.

As for Sir Gaheris and Lady Lynet, they left the court and moved far away to lands in the north. Lady Lynet was reported by some to be an enchantress, but few believed these tales, for she never was known to have done any great magical deeds, save only healings of the sick. Sir Gaheris became the steward of all his brother Gawain's lands. These estates were known in time to be the best kept lands in the kingdom, but many in the court considered Sir Gaheris mad. It was unseemly, they said, for a knight to concern himself with such matters as farming.

Those who wondered at Sir Gaheris's behavior kept their counsel, however, for cause of Sir Gawain. Though the great Sir Gawain showed little interest in his famed brother Sir Gareth, he loved Sir Gaheris greatly. At least twice a year, Sir Gawain and his squire Terence traveled to the north for a long visit with these two, whom Sir Gawain did mysteriously call "The Savage Damsel and the Dwarf.
"

When Sir Thomas Malory wrote his great collection of Arthurian tales,
Le Morte D'Arthur,
the world of books was just beginning. It was 1485, the printing press was still a new invention, and readers were neither very sophisticated nor very critical. As a result, Malory could get away with some things that a modern writer would never dream of doing. A modern writer usually makes all the parts of his or her story fit together, but Malory was unconcerned with such bothersome matters. He did whatever he wanted and offered few explanations.

Nowhere is this tendency more apparent than in Malory's story of Sir Beaumains and Dame Lyonesse in Book VII of the
Morte.
In this story, a skilled knight called Beaumains conceals his real name and takes a menial job as a kitchen servant—curious behavior that
would normally call for some explanation, but Malory never explains. Then, when Beaumains rides off on his quest, he is sometimes accompanied by an unnamed dwarf who knows his true identity, but Malory never bothers to tell who this dwarf is or how he knows Beaumains or why he cares to ride with him. After Beaumains arrives at Lyonesse's castle, a knight with no name appears from nowhere and fights Beaumains for no apparent reason. The nameless knight is defeated, but luckily for him, Lady Lynet appears on the scene and magically cures him, although Malory had not mentioned until this moment that Lynet was an enchantress. Indeed, a modern reader's response to Malory's tales will often be, "Huh?"

It hardly matters, though. Despite his peculiarities, there is no one like Sir Thomas Malory. To read his book is to enter a splendid, magical, and unfamiliar world. There is some silliness in that world, to be sure, but there is also honor, sacrifice, and love, all presented in Malory's wonderful language. In the
Morte,
people are not "named," they are "y-clept"; a skilled knight is "passing strong"; a villainous or cowardly knight is a "recreant"; and when someone is very grateful he says with simple dignity, "gramercy."

It is a pure pleasure and an honor to retell this story from Malory's world, to fill in some of the gaps, and maybe turn a few things upside down. And if I've
meddled with Malory somewhat, it has always been with affection and with gratitude to him for creating that world that inspires my own imaginings. Gramercy, Sir Thomas.