The Story of Gawain and Ragnell (3 page)

Gawain laid his bedroll out on the mattress of straw closest to the door. "We should consult with Bertilak about what he plans for the wedding festivities. That would give us a good excuse to move back and forth between the hill-fort and the village."

"Yes," Pabius agreed, lying down on his own pallet.

Gawain raised the oil lamp. "We will have much to do on the morrow. Good night."

He blew out the flame and lay down, only to be assaulted by the memory of Ragnell's sad, brave smile. He would do everything is his ability to give her back something of what had once been hers.

And then he realized that his first thought upon seeking his bed had not been of Yseult — perhaps for the first time since she had told him she would be marrying Cador.

Truth be told, he had not thought of Yseult for almost a whole day.

He laced his fingers behind his head and gazed up into the darkness. Was he finally beginning to recover from the most severe bout of disappointed love he had ever experienced? Or was it simply that beauty, ugliness, mystery, and a hill-fort to be retaken were enough to distract him for a time?

3

When that evil lady he lay beside
 Bade him turn to welcome his bride,
 What, think you, he did?
   Oh, to spare her pain,
And let not his loathing her loathliness vain
   Mirror too plain,
   Sadly, sighingly,
   Almost dyingly,
 Turned he and kissed her once and again.
 Like Sir Gawain, gentles, should we?
 
Silent, all!
  But for pattern agree
 There's none like the Knight of Courtesy.

George Meredith, "The Song of Courtesy"

Gareth made the most convincing monk among them, Gawain thought at dinner the next day, glancing at his youngest brother as he bowed his head over the first course of duck eggs with pine nut sauce. And he a married man with a steadily increasing family. But there was a perplexing innocence about Gareth, always had been.

Gawain took another bite of the duck eggs. Ragnell had organized an exceptional meal, if this course was any indication. The nutty sauce had just the right hint of honey and vinegar to make it interesting without being too sour or too sweet.

"What kind of wedding festivities are you planning once Ragnell's cousin arrives?" Pabius asked Bertilak as the first course was being cleared away. The priest had been given the seat of honor next to their "host" — while Gawain sat opposite beside Ragnell, squirming every time the warrior in green took his betrothed's hand possessively. He couldn't forget what she had told him the day before, and he couldn't help wanting to jump up and wring the man's neck.

Especially since Bertilak did his very best to avoid looking at her, despite all his show of possession.

Bertilak tried to hide his surprise at the priest's question, and there was a brief moment of embarrassed silence.

"We have not yet given much thought to festivities," Ragnell said, jumping in for a man who deserved no such defense. But of course it was also embarrassing for
her
that her future husband did not deem their upcoming nuptials worthy of celebration.

Gawain's urge to wring his neck grew stronger.

Next to him, Gaheris laid a hand on his arm. "Is something amiss, brother Gaw?"

"Only that the food is richer than I am used to."

Gaheris nodded knowingly. "It is truly a splendid repast." Then under his breath, so that only Gawain could hear, he whispered, "Calm down, brother; this is not the place to let your temper get the better of you."

"I can have simpler fare brought if such as the last course is too rich for you," Ragnell said.

"Perhaps that would be better, Lady." Gawain had found the dish excellent, but it seemed necessary to go along with the pretense, seeing as he had already drawn attention to himself with his reaction.

She smiled and motioned a servant to her side, and in that moment, Gawain once again saw her face whole as it must have once been, smooth and pure and framed by soft brown hair, glinting in a kaleidoscope of shades from honey to a hint of bronze in the candlelight.

"Will any of your relatives be coming for the wedding?" Pabius asked.

Bertilak flinched. "The only one left to me is my sister, and she is not fit to travel."

Gawain glanced between Ragnell and the green knight — he could have sworn that she stiffened at the mention of Bertilak's sister. Was that perhaps the source of the magic she had alluded to earlier?

"I am sorry to hear it," Pabius was saying now. "Will you be holding a feast day for the villagers? It would be proper to give them a chance to celebrate such an important event for you and your betrothed."

Bertilak nodded. "An excellent idea."

"Might it be possible to obtain a new silk veil for the ceremony from Eburacum?" Ragnell asked.

"Certainly, my dear," Bertilak said, still not looking at her.

Gaheris touched his arm surreptitiously again before Gawain could react. It was beginning to look like he would be very much in his brother's debt by the end of this particular adventure.

* * *

Something had woken him, the faintest of scratchings on the door. He pushed himself up, small sword in hand. His eyes adjusted quickly to the dark, and he looked around. To his surprise, none of the other warriors had awoken at the noise. Had he imagined it?

No, there it was again. But the other men continued to snore.

A whisper. "Gawain."

Ragnell
.

Gawain pulled on his tunic and slipped out of the door as quietly as possible. Clapping a hand over her mouth, he dragged her out of hearing distance behind a nearby storage shed. Only then did he release her.

"Ragnell!" he said in a furious whisper. "What are you doing here? One of my men could have killed you by mistake."

"But
you
didn't kill me," she replied.

"I recognized your voice."

"As any of the other men might also have done," she pointed out pragmatically.

She had the right of it. He returned to his original objection. "So what
are
you doing here?"

"I wanted to speak with you, alone."

"Could it not have waited until morning?"

"We are more likely to be seen then. For what I wish to ask, I do not want to be seen."

It seemed a strange comment — seeking him out alone was more dangerous at night than during the day. "Surely it is not safe for you to sneak out of the main hall at night. You are risking much in coming to me."

There was a slight pause, and he was almost sure she was smiling into the darkness. Her next words seemed to confirm his suspicions. "Less than you think."

"You are very confident." He was becoming more and more convinced that she had some of the powers of the Old Race, just as Yseult did. To his irritation, he felt a frisson of fear.

She touched his elbow, tentatively. "No, I am not confident. Far from it."

He leaned his head back against the stone wall of the hut and crossed his arms in front of his chest, waiting for her to explain. The night was moonless, cold and clear, with only an occasional cloud whispering across the black sky. Stars littered the heavens like jewels scattered carelessly on a dark carpet.

Then he felt her lips whispering across his neck like the clouds flitting among the stars. He should have pushed her away, but the light kisses felt too good; instead, he closed his eyes, enjoying the moment — including the slight rush of danger it held.

She drew away again, and a sigh escaped him. He realized that while she had been kissing his neck, he had taken hold of her waist in both hands, and now his fingers slid down toward her perfectly shaped rump. "Thank you," he murmured.

"You mean it, don't you?" Her voice was disbelieving.

Gawain chuckled, pulling her hips forward against his swollen cock. "Is that answer enough for you?"

Instead of giving him some kind of flippant or defiant answer as he had learned to expect from her, she leaned her head on his chest, and her arms snaked around his back. "Gawain, make me forget," she murmured against his tunic.

He pulled her tighter, an automatic gesture of comfort. Her words were like a fist around his heart. "Ah, Ragnell, you cannot know how many times I wanted to pound Bertilak's face in during dinner this evening — both for what he did to you and for every time he looked away from you."

She raised her head and took his chin in her hands. "I
do
know, Gawain. Which is why I ask you — take me. Use me well this night. Banish all those other memories."

The raw sexuality of her words had him hissing in his breath — and jumping even more painfully to attention. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Please. I want to eradicate the memory of what the green warrior did to me. Please. Give me joy to replace the pain and humiliation."

Gods help him, he needed no more encouragement. He kissed her perfect lips. "I will do my best."

He slipped along the stone wall, one arm around Ragnell, one hand seeking for the door. Once he found the handle, he yanked it down, pushed the wooden door open with his hip, and dragged her back into the hut with him. To judge by the scent, it was a storage shed filled with grain.

Before he could kick the door closed behind them, she laughed out loud.

"Shush, woman!" Gawain couldn't help admonishing.

She kissed his lips. "No one will hear."

Now he was sure. "You
are
of one the Old Race. What other spells have you cast?"

"None putting you under my power, I swear. Otherwise you would not be here with me, now."

Gawain was not quite sure if he believed her words, but he was beyond caring. He pulled his tunic over his head and threw it on the mound of grain behind them — wheat, barley, rye, he knew not what.

"Good, then we can enjoy ourselves without fear of interruption," he said, pushing her down into a bed of what might be his bread on the morrow.

Ragnell let out a choked sigh.

* * *

Something was tickling his nose. Gawain turned on his back and rubbed the offending orifice, wondering where he was. He lay cold and naked on top of his tunic, and the room smelled vaguely nutty. He sat up. The grain storage hut — and Ragnell was gone. She had worn him out so much that he had not even noticed her leave.

Gawain laughed out loud. But in the next moment, he was scrambling up and pulling his tunic over his head. Milky winter sunlight slanted into the hut through the cracks in the stones and between the wall and the thatched roof. It was day, and he had to make it back to his companions without being noticed.

Luckily, there was no one around when he snuck out of the grain shed. He began to walk slowly in the direction of the house he shared with the other "monks," his head lowered and his hands clasped in front of him as humbly as he could manage, thinking about the night past. How could he lust for a woman whose face was so ruined — and he a great connoisseur of female beauty? His reaction to Ragnell went far beyond anything he would have expected for an act of comfort.

On the other hand, it had been dark enough in the storage hut. And while her face might be ravaged, her form certainly was not.

He heard the steps behind him, but he continued to walk, his head bent.

"Gaw," his brother Gaheris hissed in his ear. "Where have you been?"

Gawain turned to face Gaheris. "Out for a morning walk, brother. Why?"

"We are about to go to the village to speak with some of the local merchants and farmers about the wedding feast. Will you join us?"

He nodded. "Gladly."

Once they were away from the walls of the hill-fort, Gaheris felt the need to remind him at length of all the things he was doing to endanger their mission, and couldn't he keep his cock to himself for once?

Gawain just smiled.

* * *

He listened for her that night, but she didn't come.

Gawain lay awake for a long time, wondering what it meant. He wasn't a man given much to reflection, but he liked to think he also was not completely ignorant of his own motives. As far as Ragnell was concerned, however, he truly did not understand himself. It was logical enough if she did not visit him two nights running — she had said all she wanted from him was to help her forget. Besides, even if she did possess the power of changing, the magic of illusion, it was risky for her to slip out of the main hall at night. She could manipulate perceptions, cloak her brief escape in night, but if she were found missing ... he didn't want to think what might happen then. He knew all that, and still he stared at the thatched roof of the stone hut, where answers were hard to find.

He had enjoyed himself with Ragnell. Usually that was enough for him. Not with Yseult, of course, but Yseult he had wanted to marry. Their affair had been going on for years. Ragnell he barely knew.