Read The Squire's Tale Online

Authors: Gerald Morris

The Squire's Tale (9 page)

BOOK: The Squire's Tale
2.55Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Gawain hesitated, then said, "I did what any true knight would have done, madam."

"So I saw," Lady Ettard said demurely. Terence caught his breath and looked askance at Gawain, hoping to warn him, but Gawain was smiling that devilishly effective smile of his. Terence closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. "You seem also to dislike being kept waiting, Dwayne," Lady Ettard added, looking shyly at the door through which the discomposed Brundle had scuttled.

"I admit, my lady, that I was perhaps a bit over-eager to ... to see you," Gawain said. "I do hope I haven't inconvenienced your servant."

"Oh no," Lady Ettard said vacuously. "Brundle won't mind. He ... he is not used to dealing with such men as you."

Gawain smiled even more broadly. "Perhaps," he said after a moment, "I should send my squire away, so that we could talk privately."

"If you like," Lady Ettard smiled faintly.

"He shall run some errands for me," Gawain said. "You'd like that, wouldn't you, Terence?" Terence sighed sadly, but he nodded. Gawain pulled Terence to one side and whispered quickly, "Go get Pelleas. Bring him here at once. Tell him Lady Ettard has changed her mind. Got that?" Terence blinked dazedly, but he nodded. "Good," Gawain said with a chuckle. "It looks as though we'll wind this business up, after all."

Terence found Sir Pelleas gazing abstractedly at the stream by their camp. Mindful of his instructions, Terence said, "Lady Ettard has changed her mind, and you're to go to her at once." Pelleas leaped to his feet, his face shining with delight, and chattered, "Did she say she loved me after all? Will she marry me? What did Sir Gawain say? Did he tell her how much I loved her?"

Fortunately for Terence, who could not think of answers to any of these questions, Sir Pelleas did not wait for a reply. Sir Pelleas leaped onto his horse, his wet pants smacking loudly on the saddle, and together they galloped back up the hill to the castle.

"Where is she?" Sir Pelleas demanded.

"This way, sir." Terence led him down the long hallway, through the entrance court into the stateroom. It was empty except for a lone housemaid cleaning the fireplace. "But—where's Lady Ettard? Excuse me, miss. Where's your mistress?"

"Ow, I don't think I should say," the girl tittered. "Her not being, as you say, receiving visitors."

"Look here, girl," Sir Pelleas demanded. "Lady Ettard is expecting me right now!"

She gaped at him in amazement. "You don't say! I never heard of such goings on! I never!"

"Where
is
she?" Sir Pelleas asked again.

"She's in the garden—right through that door." The girl pointed, her eyes still wide.

Sir Pelleas flung open the door. There, on a stone bench in a fragrant garden, sat Lady Ettard and Gawain. As Sir Pelleas opened the door, Gawain leaned forward and gave Lady Ettard a long kiss on the lips. Terence closed his eyes in anguish.

"What is the meaning of this?" Sir Pelleas roared. Gawain stood quickly, and stared at Sir Pelleas, wide-eyed. Sir Pelleas wore no sword, but one lay on a table near the door, easily to hand, and he grasped it and strode toward the bench. Gawain made no move to defend himself, but instead knelt at Sir Pelleas's feet, abject terror on his face.

"Sir Pelleas! How—oh, please don't kill me!" he cried. Terence stared.

"Traitor! You should be flogged like a lackey!" Sir Pelleas shouted furiously.

"Oh no, please no! I'll do anything! I'll be your squire, your groom, your stable sweep! Only let not your mighty wrath fall on me!" Gawain bowed his head, a picture of fear, but before he lowered his eyes he gave Terence a sharp warning glance.

"Thou coward! I should kill thee now," Sir Pelleas declared grandly, "but I do not wish to sully this blade with thy craven blood!"

"Dwayne!" Lady Ettard said faintly. She was looking from one knight to the other in consternation.

"He is too strong for me, my lady!" Gawain whimpered.

"Pelleas!" she said, her eyes shining. "You ... you are ... oh, Pelleas!" She clasped her hands together rapturously. "Pelleas, throw this craven dog out of my castle—and then, and then come back, if you like."

Terence saw Gawain's shoulders shaking with a barely suppressed mirth. He began to grin himself as he finally understood Gawain's plan and saw how it had worked. Sir Pelleas, driven to jealous fury, was at last the sort of man whom Lady Ettard desired.

"Come back to you?" Sir Pelleas snapped contemptuously to Lady Ettard. "I should rather come back to a pit of garbage!" Gawain's head snapped up, and he stared incredulously as Sir Pelleas continued. "You have been false to me once; I shall never allow it to happen again!"

"Pelleas! I was blind! I did not see your strength, your might, your ... your beauty."

"I am proof to your trickery, the wiles of a faithless woman!" Sir Pelleas laughed. "You would throw yourself at some other wandering knight—or squire or lackey—in a day! Trollop! Doxy!"

Lady Ettard burst into hysterical sobs, wailing, "Oh Pelleas, my love, my love," between gasps. Gawain stood up, exasperated.

"Pelleas," he whispered urgently, "don't be a—"

"On your knees, villain!" Sir Pelleas commanded, raising his sword threateningly.

"You witless ninny! Will you listen to me?" Gawain whispered fiercely.

"I told thee to kneel!" Sir Pelleas roared.

"Will you be quiet for one minute? Look! She's yours, I tell you!"

"I want none of her, after thy foul lips have touched her," he shouted, even louder. Lady Ettard burst into fresh gusts of tears. Sir Pelleas raised his head proudly, "I shall retire to some holy place and breathe my last, surrendering this vain world forever! Now, for the last time, kneel, thou cur!"

"Oh shut it!" Gawain said crossly. Sir Pelleas made as though to raise his sword, but Gawain plucked it from his hand and tossed it across the garden. "Go and breathe your last or whatever it is you want to do. I wash my hands of you!"

"I shall die without you, Pelleas!" Lady Ettard sobbed.

"You too," Gawain said. "Come on, Terence. Help me with this gear."

Thirty minutes later, fully armored again, Gawain led Terence back out of Lady Ettard's castle and headed east, the sun lowering behind them.

"A more empty-headed woman I have never met," Gawain grunted after a moment. "If I had had to explain another joke—" He grimaced and looked at Terence. "You were lucky to get out when you did."

"Oh, lucky was I?" Terence demanded. "You forget I was with Sir Pelleas!"

Gawain laughed. "You're right, lad. You had your burden as well."

"Do you think they really will die, milord?" Terence asked.

"What, die for love?" Gawain considered this, then said, "If I've ever met two people stupid enough to do it, they would be the ones."

They rode side by side into their shadows while the long day ended.

9. Nimue

Gawain and Terence did not stop until after dark. A full moon lit their way alongside farms and fields, back into the forest. Gawain rode with a still, thoughtful quietness. After about an hour, he muttered, half to himself, "A stupid and cruel woman. Who would have thought that such spite could lie behind such beauty?"

Terence was not sure if Gawain expected an answer, but after a moment Terence said, "I ... I don't care for beautiful women, myself."

"What?" Gawain asked, half laughing, half shocked.

"I just mean the ones that I've met. I'm thinking of that woman who hated Abelleus and Lady Alisoun and Lady Ettard and your Aunt Morgan and ... and women like that." Terence had been thinking mostly of the woman whose beautiful, cold face he had seen in the pond and whose fierce eyes still haunted his dreams, but he said nothing of her. "But ... but I haven't known as many women as you, milord," he added.

Gawain rode in silence for a moment, his eyes on Terence's shadowed face. At last he said, "Morgan's not so bad. But I see what you mean." A moment later, he laughed softly and said, "You may have had some advantages growing up with a hermit." A few hours later, Gawain stopped by a lake, and without bothering to eat they rolled up in their blankets and let the soft lake sounds murmur them to sleep.

There had been no lakes in the Gentle Wood, where Terence had lived with the hermit, so the next morning he was surprised and enraptured by the misty, dreamy feel of a lake in the early morning. The air smelled cleaner, and Terence took long slow breaths, letting the cool stillness fill his breast. A vague shape, like a person, appeared in the fog. Terence stood and watched the shape approach. His hair tingled, but he was not afraid. The shape seemed to bow, then point across the lake. Then it dissolved in the mist. A moment later, other shapes appeared, some like people, some like animals, and Terence smiled to them and nodded a greeting. When at last he looked away, Gawain was sitting up in his blankets, watching.

"What did you see, Terence?" Gawain asked quietly.

Terence hesitated. "Maybe nothing, milord. It just seemed that there were shapes in the mist. Did you see them?"

"Not I," Gawain replied. He raised one eyebrow and added, "Most people would have been afraid of shapes that appeared in the mist."

"Oh no, milord. These were friendly," Terence assured him.

Gawain looked at Terence searchingly, but he said nothing else. Terence prepared breakfast, and after they had eaten, Gawain said abruptly, "I can't make you out, Terence. Have you no idea who your parents were?"

"No, milord," Terence said. "I asked Trevisant one time, but of course he didn't know, seeing time backwards, the way he does. But he said I didn't need to know."

"He was wrong," Gawain said. "A boy should know his parents. Good or bad, they are a part of him."

Terence stirred the coals for a moment, then looked into Gawain's eyes. "I think so, too. Would you ... tell me about your parents, milord?"

Gawain frowned, as if angry, and Terence was sorry he had asked. To his surprise, however, Gawain finally answered. "My father, King Lot, was a great soldier, a master with every weapon. When we were at peace, he would teach me." Gawain paused. "But we weren't at peace often, especially in late years. That was my mother's doing.

"My mother is named Morgause, from an ancient and magical and proud family." Gawain smiled faintly. "You wouldn't like her, Terence, because she's very beautiful. More beautiful than anyone, I think. My father worshiped her and did whatever she asked. When she sent him to war against Arthur, he died for her."

"She's still alive, then?"

"I don't know. When my father died, she disappeared without a word, not even to her children. She never did love us, I suppose. I don't imagine I ever really loved her either, but when I was a child I used to think I did."

Gawain sat in brooding silence, staring into the coals, and Terence left him alone. Indeed, Terence left Gawain alone quite a lot for the next few days in the lakeside camp. Gawain showed no desire to continue questing. He fished, but inattentively, and often let a good catch escape. One evening after a meal of trout, caught by Terence, and wild carrots, Gawain asked suddenly, "If beautiful women are cruel and hateful, what would you say about ugly women, Terence?"

"Me, milord?" Terence asked.

"Come now, Terence. I was expecting some word of wisdom from you. After all, you're the one who dislikes beautiful women, aren't you?"

"Only the ones I've met, milord."

"Well, what about the ugly women you've met?"

"I don't know any ugly—" Terence began.

"What about the hag at the feast?" demanded Gawain.

Terence hesitated. "I couldn't really say, milord. She ... she wasn't very polite to you."

"Nor I to her. Would you say she was cruel?"

"No, milord. I think she was friendly."

Gawain frowned. "Like your shapes in the mist were friendly?"

Terence thought for a moment. "Just like that," he said.

***

The next morning when they woke, they were not alone. On a stone next to the lake sat a tall, willowy lady, swirling her bare feet in the waters. Behind her, a shining white horse cropped grass. The woman had straight black hair that hung to her waist. Her gown was white with a silvery sheen to it, gathered at the waist by a simple green girdle. Her face was not memorable in its features, but it shone with elegance, kindness, and wisdom. Terence thought he could look at her forever.

Gawain sat upright among his blankets. "Good morning, madam," he said.

"Good morning, Sir Gawain," the woman said, smiling. "And good morning, Terence."

"Good ... good morning, ma'am," Terence stammered.

"If I might ask," Gawain said, "how do you know our names?"

"I've come to find you," she replied. "Or you have come to find me, which in our world is almost the same thing."

"What world is that, madam?" Gawain asked, standing.

"The Other World," she said, still smiling. "I am Nimue, the Lady of the Lake."

Gawain bowed, his eyes alight. "I have heard of you, my lady."

Terence had never heard of the Lady of the Lake, but he too bowed deeply.

"No no, Terence." Nimue laughed, and her laugh was like water splashing on stones. "You're bowing to me as you would bow to royalty—or a god. Really, I'm not that different from you."

Terence straightened. "I'm sorry, my lady."

After a moment Gawain asked, "And why have you come to find us, my lady?"

"My mistress sent me. You have left some business undone, Sir Gawain," Nimue said.

"Pelleas and Ettard?" She nodded. "What can anyone do?" Gawain asked. "They are fools."

"Oh yes, lamentably so. But must fools be unhappy?"

"If they are unhappy, they have brought it on themselves," Gawain said.

"Have they?"

Gawain flushed slightly, but he said, "Perhaps my coming did not help them, but I made nothing worse. They were unhappy before I ever arrived in their land."

Nimue said nothing for a moment, then spoke gently. "You mean that in their place
you
would have been unhappy. But, as you say, your efforts helped no one."

Gawain's frown deepened. "But can I help them now?"

"I hope so. Come, let us go."

The ride back to Lady Ettard's castle was long, but the Lady of the Lake was a delightful companion. For over an hour, she talked with Terence about herbs and spices. She taught him about the curative powers of healing herbs like foxglove, woundwort, vervain, and feverfew. As they drew near to Sir Pelleas's castle, Gawain said, "I still don't know what to do when I arrive."

"What do you think, Terence?" Nimue asked. "Have you any thoughts on what Sir Gawain should do?"

Glancing furtively at his master, Terence said, "No, my lady. I understand animals. They act in ways a body can predict. But people are different. I would have to know more about Sir Pelleas and Lady Ettard before I could guess how to help them."

Nimue smiled and nodded. Gawain rode in silence for a moment, then grumbled, "Very well. I shall try to think like an idiot."

Nimue sighed softly and stopped near a stand of trees. "Here," she said. "Pelleas is in this copse."

"Here? What the devil is he—Oh, I see. There's a hermitage or anchorage in there, and he's stretched out to die." Nimue nodded. "Thickwit," Gawain muttered to himself.

Behind the little grove of sycamores was a tiny cottage with a thatched roof. A rough cross stood in front of it. Gawain dismounted and stepped inside. About fifteen minutes later, Gawain reappeared in the doorway, disgust on his face. "I offered to help, but he thinks he'd rather die, thank you," he said.

"Sir Gawain," Nimue said, "it ill befits you to laugh at someone else's love, however foolish it might be. There is no love that might not appear ridiculous to someone else. Are you so sure that you will never love foolishly?"

Gawain blinked, then said, "I beg your pardon. I'll try again."

Terence heard their voices again, then a solid thump, and Gawain appeared in the doorway, carrying Sir Pelleas across his shoulders. "He changed his mind," he said.

"Sir Gawain, if this is how you plan to handle this affair, I'll wash my hands of you," Nimue protested. "What will you do if Ettard doesn't listen? Knock her over the head, too?"

Gawain grinned. "It
is
a temptation, but no. I just thought Pelleas might listen to me more in Ettard's presence."

Nimue shook her head wearily. About twenty minutes later, still several miles from Ettard's castle, Sir Pelleas, whom they had tied behind Terence's saddle, began to stir. "Villain," he muttered thickly. He looked at Terence, not recognizing him, and Terence pointed at Gawain, riding nearby. "Scoundrel," Sir Pelleas said.

"Terribly sorry, Pelleas," Gawain said. "But I can't let you dwindle away and die in there."

"Why not?" Sir Pelleas asked in a muffled voice.

"Well, I can't help feeling partly responsible for—" Gawain began.

"Partly? When you've traduced me to the woman whom I thought I loved? When you've defiled a fair lady? When you've ravished a vessel of purity?"

"Here now," Gawain protested, "all I did was kiss her. And I promise you, I didn't even enjoy it."

Sir Pelleas went into a fit, mouthing terrible curses and wrenching his body right and left. In a pained voice, Nimue said, "I don't think that was very helpful, Sir Gawain."

"Sorry," he muttered.

In his frenzy, Sir Pelleas slid face first off of Terence's horse into the dirt. Stifling an oath, Gawain dismounted and helped Pelleas up. "Look, Pelleas, I'm trying to help you," Gawain said.

"Help me? By kissing the woman who was my Heart, my Purest Love?"

"What is a kiss? It's nothing!"

"Nothing to you, perhaps. To me, it was everything! How would you like to see another man kissing the woman you loved?"

For several seconds Gawain stared into the distance, then said, "You're right, Pelleas. I should never have kissed her. I'm sorry. But it was all part of a plan. You were
supposed
to come in and stop me. I was pretending."

Sir Pelleas grunted. "And was she pretending when she kissed you back?" He took a deep breath, then said, "I suppose I should thank you for showing me how false is the Lady—lady! Ha!—the Lady Ettard. Now I can lay aside that misplaced love I once held."

"Then you don't love her anymore?" Gawain asked.

"I don't feel anything at all for that woman."

Gawain said, "Well, don't you think you ought to show her that?"

"At last you've said something worth saying, Sir Gawain," Nimue said quietly.

Sir Pelleas nodded slowly. "You're right. She should know the result of her perfidy. I could show her disdain, treat her with a ... a cold politeness. And then," he added, warming to his theme, "I'll show affection for another lady!
Then
she'll be sorry! I'll do it! I will!"

At Lady Ettard's castle, the guards threw open the gates as soon as the riders approached. Nimue said, "Lady Ettard is not well, I believe. I think the guards must hope that we can help her."

They left their horses in the courtyard and followed Nimue to the garden, where Lady Ettard and Gawain had kissed. There, on a richly draped canopy bed that had been set under a chestnut tree, the Lady Ettard languished. She was pale, and her left hand held a small vinaigrette, which she was sniffing when the four visitors entered. She sat up as if pricked with a needle and gasped, "Pelleas! My love! You've come back!"

At first Sir Pelleas looked at her almost tenderly, but after she had spoken, he sneered and replied, "Yes, I've come back, but only to look with scorn on the falsest of fair maidens in all this vain world."

Lady Ettard moaned and fell back on her pillows, clutching feebly at her vinaigrette. "I thought ... I thought perhaps you still loved me!"

"Ha!" Sir Pelleas barked harshly. "You are right that I loved you once. You were a pure woman once! You resisted the advances of men! But then you threw yourself into this knave's arms, and put aside your maidenly innocence! I despise you now, who once despised me!"

Gawain asked, "Was it maidenly of her to empty the kitchen swill over your head?"

"Kitchen swill! That was nothing! Once she had me tied to a long board and had two burly servants sweep her stables with me!"

Lady Ettard showed a stir of interest. She said, "That was just after the time that I fed you the slop that the hogs left."

"No no, it was the time before," Sir Pelleas said impatiently. "Just after the Christmas feast."

"Of course! When I harnessed you with my pony and you pulled my sleigh!"

"And all your curses only proved your virtue and gave me opportunity to prove the constancy of my love. But now," Sir Pelleas said harshly, "you have proven yourself a straw-damsel of the worst type! A careless courtesan! A painted paramour!"

Lady Ettard burst into wailing tears, and following his plan to make Lady Ettard jealous, Sir Pelleas turned to one of the servant girls and began complimenting her extravagantly. The girl tried to edge away, but he followed her with his effusive praise. Lady Ettard burst into louder, more pathetic sobs. Gawain whispered to Nimue for a moment. She looked startled, but she nodded, and Gawain moved back next to Terence. "Watch this, lad," he whispered.

BOOK: The Squire's Tale
2.55Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

I Should Be So Lucky by Judy Astley
The Tapestries by Kien Nguyen
The Imperium by PM Barnes
More Than Life Itself by Nassise, Joseph
Beat by Jared Garrett
Everyone Is African by Daniel J. Fairbanks
Flashback by Jenny Siler