The Lioness and Her Knight (3 page)

Sir Grenall smiled modestly and murmured, "Yes, well, code of honor and all that."

"You are too modest, sir!" the fool cried. He looked back at Ywain and Luneta, his face solemn and inspired. "Does Sir Grenall
want
to lie on pillows all day? Of course he doesn't! Only the need to hide his injury forces him to do something so repugnant! Does he want to drink wine and eat sweetmeats through the morning? Don't be silly! It's all an act! Sir Grenall is bravely trying to hide his pain!"

Sir Grenall smiled again, but with less pleasure.

"Indeed, his courage goes beyond even this," the fool added. "Sir Grenall is so brave that even the doctors themselves can't find his wound!"

"There, there, that's enough, fool," Sir Grenall interposed hastily, but not before Luneta, taken by surprise, had allowed a giggle to escape. The knight glanced at her, but she quickly assumed an expression of sympathy, and he looked away. Her eyes met those of the fool, who winked at her, then turned toward Sir Grenall again. Luneta blinked with surprise at the fool's effrontery, but decided not to be offended. She was enjoying him too much.

"If I must speak of it," Sir Grenall was saying, "then I must. I am Sir Grenall of the Firth—but I've told you that, haven't I?"

"Most excellently well, Sir Grenall," the fool said, applauding politely.

"And this is my lady, the Lady Golina. Not three days ago, a villainous recreant knight struck me down in this very field, seeking to steal my lady from me. Naturally, I should have defeated him, but Sir Lorigan fought like a villain and struck me from behind. I was left lying senseless on the field."

"Then why is your lady still here?" Luneta asked. It seemed a reasonable question, but it appeared to annoy the knight, and even the lady shot her a nasty look over the handkerchief.

The fool stepped into the awkward silence, saying, "Perhaps Sir Lorigan, having seen the fury of Sir Grenall's sword, knew that he could never defeat him a second time and so chose not to steal the fair lady, after all."

"Yes, that might be," Sir Grenall said, his face brightening.

"I wouldn't bet on it, myself," the fool added thoughtfully, "but it's at least—"

Sir Grenall continued, "I lie here until I am restored, but someone must stop this knight before he attempts to steal another fair lady."

"Oh, I doubt he will try that," the fool said. The light tone had left his voice. "Remember the fury of your sword."

"He must be stopped and slain," Sir Grenall said, "before he ravages more fair damsels! If only ... but I cannot ask. I do not even know your name."

"I am Ywain, son of Ywain, grandson of King Uriens," Ywain said grandly, "and I would consider it an honor to take on this quest. I shall leave at once!"

"Bravo!" Sir Grenall cried.

"Ywain?" Luneta said.

"Yes, Luneta?"

"Er, didn't you promise not to start any quests until after we'd gotten to Camelot?"

Ywain's face froze, then fell. "I did, didn't I?" He looked apologetically at Sir Grenall. "I'm sorry, Sir Grenall, but I've a prior promise to keep. Perhaps after I've taken my cousin to court, I could come back and—"

"That sounds like a coward's excuse!" Sir Grenall said with a sneer.

Ywain stiffened, but before he could speak, the fool said, "Don't try to argue with him, Sir Ywain. If any man in England knows cowards' excuses, it's Sir Grenall."

Sir Grenall turned and glared at the fool. "And what do you mean by that, fool?"

The fool replied, "It means that I'll be leaving you now, Sir Grenall. I'm afraid that I no longer find you amusing."

"
You
find
me
amusing!" Sir Grenall said. "
I'm
not the fool."

The fool shook his head, then glanced at Ywain and Luneta. "See what I mean? Far too obvious to be funny. Did I hear you say that you were going to court?"

"Yes, we are," Luneta said.

"Would you mind having another companion? I've my own horse."

"Yes, of course," said Ywain, who was still looking back and forth between the fool and the knight, a bemused expression on his face.

"I'll be with you shortly," the fool said, disappearing behind the tent.

Ywain looked back at Sir Grenall, whose brow was stormy and who had raised himself up on his elbows. "I will bid you good day, then," Sir Ywain said.

"Or good morrow," Luneta murmured.

"Are you indeed stealing my fool?" Sir Grenall said, his eyes blazing.

Ywain blushed and looked uncomfortable, but Luneta answered, "Actually, it feels more as if your fool is stealing us." She smiled brightly at the knight. "It's a pity you can't stop us, what with your injury and all."

"Good ... good day," Ywain said again, and then they were trotting away, leaving Sir Grenall sputtering impotently behind them. They rode toward the horse enclosure, where the fool was saddling a large, strong-looking white stallion.

"That's your horse, fool?" Ywain said.

"My name's Rhience," the fool said over his shoulder. "And yes, this is my horse."

"What a fine animal!" Ywain said admiringly. "He looks like a knight's charger!"

Rhience sighed. "Yes, he does. Pity that he's so stupid." He tightened the girth with a sure hand.

"Stupid?" Ywain asked.

Rhience swung into the saddle. "He lets a fool ride him, doesn't he? How could any proud warhorse allow such a thing unless he was a bit of an ass?" He settled into the saddle, then turned to Luneta. "I heard Sir Ywain's name, but I'm afraid I missed yours, my lady."

"I'm Lune—ah, the Lady Luneta," Luneta said.

"I'm charmed, my lady," Rhience said. He smiled and nodded to Ywain. "Shall we go, before Sir Grenall forgets that he's grievously wounded?"

"I'm not afraid of him," Ywain said, but he kicked his mount into a trot anyway.

"Nobody's afraid of Sir Grenall," Rhience said. "At least not in that way. His only strength is the power of too much money. I doubt he could hurt you with a sword if he came on you asleep, but if you're an impoverished knight betrothed to a young lady who dreams of riches, he's very dangerous indeed."

The light dawned for Luneta. "Sir Lorigan?" she asked.

Rhience nodded approvingly. "Very good, my lady. Yes, Sir Grenall stole Lady Golina from young Lorigan with promises of fine clothes and jewels. Lorigan found them in the fields on a hunting excursion, bashed Grenall about for a bit, then left Golina with him. Bad luck for both of them."

Luneta giggled. "And you were their fool?"

"Fool, yes, my lady, but not theirs. I'm a wandering fool, and I'd already decided that I'd been with those two for long enough. When he tried to use Sir Ywain here to get revenge on Lorigan, that was enough." He glanced at Ywain. "It's none of my business, of course, but if I were you I'd be a little less quick to volunteer."

Ywain nodded thoughtfully, and they pressed on to the south.

The journey to Camelot took more than a week, but despite the monotony of constant riding Luneta had never enjoyed herself so much. Her two companions, each in his own way, made this journey the most pleasant she had ever known. Ywain, for his part, was very solicitous for her comfort and protection, at least when he wasn't lost in a dream of winning knightly glory. Whenever they met someone on the road, Ywain immediately moved between Luneta and the stranger. Luneta privately considered this a bit excessive, inasmuch as most of the people they met were farmers and tradesmen who really didn't pose a threat, but it was nice to be thought of. As for Rhience the Fool, he did nothing for her physical comfort, but talking with him made the time pass amazingly quickly.

One could never tell what Rhience would say next. One day, after Ywain had protected Luneta from a farmer driving a flock of geese, Rhience nodded approvingly and commented to Luneta, "A very good guardian you have, Lady Luneta."

"He promised my mother he would care for me, you see," Luneta replied, a bit apologetically.

"You don't have to explain it to me," Rhience said. "I understand perfectly. He is doing what a man should, on account of your being defective."

Luneta blinked, not sure that she had heard correctly. "I beg your pardon?"

"'Defective and misbegotten' I believe is the full translation."

"Translation of what?"

"Of Latin, of course. Why would I translate something from English?"

Luneta took a slow breath. "I meant, what writing were you translating?"

"Oh, that was a bit from a theological book I once read."

"Don't be ridiculous. There are no theological books about me."

"Not about you specifically, Lady Luneta—about women in general."

Luneta frowned as an incongruity occurred to her. "Why would a fool read theology?"

"I can't tell you how often I've wondered that," Rhience replied, shaking his head sympathetically. "But they seem to do it anyway. For my part, I read that book because I was studying for the church. That was before I rose to my current profession, of course. Now, let's see if I remember the argument exactly ... Yes, I think I have it. Now listen closely: for a child to be born requires a male and a female—stop me if I'm getting too complicated."

"Thank you," Luneta said coldly, "I think I'm able to keep up so far."

Rhience whistled softly. "Impressive, what with your being defective and all."

Luneta wasn't sure whether to be angry or amused. She itched to slap the fool for his impertinence, but curiosity restrained her. She glanced ahead at Ywain, to see what he thought of Rhience's foolishness, but his face was dreamy and distant, and she knew he was off winning a tournament or slaying a dragon in his imagination. "Go on," she said to Rhience.

"Now, when that child is born, it is either male or female. Are you still with me?"

"Yes, idiot. I'm still with you. Go on."

Rhience clucked his tongue chidingly. "Is that how you speak to someone who's trying to improve your theological education?" He sniffed expressively, then continued, "Now, the way it works is this: the male parent transmits masculine perfection to the child, but that perfection is always marred a bit, on account of the female parent's involvement. If the baby's really badly marred, it turns out a girl."

"You made that up," Luneta said scornfully.

"Not at all. It's from one of the theologians at the University of Paris, a holy monk and doctor of theology."

"How does he know which parent gives what to the child?"

Rhience frowned. "I admit, I wondered that myself when I read it. You wouldn't expect a pious monk to know much about the matter, but when I asked my tutor, he said only that it was not for us to question things that were written by our betters in Latin."

Luneta blinked. "What does its being in Latin have to do with anything?"

"My tutor thought that anything in Latin had to be true. It's God's language. You wouldn't understand, though, on account of your being def—"

Luneta didn't let him finish. Pulling a long pin from her hair, she reached across to where Rhience rode beside her and jabbed him in the fleshy part just above the saddle. Rhience yelped and lurched away from her, losing his grip on the reins and tumbling into the dust on the other side of his horse. Ywain whirled around in his saddle, his hand on his sword, a fierce battle-light in his eyes, but there was no danger for him to face—only Rhience lifting himself from the dirt and gingerly rubbing his backside. Luneta met his surprised gaze and said austerely, "
Es asinus.
And that's in Latin, so you know it's true."

Rhience began to laugh, and Ywain said, "What's true?"

"She says I'm an ass," Rhience explained.

"In truth, I think she's right," Ywain said. "Whatever made you fall off your horse like that?"

"I'm defective," Rhience said, climbing back into his saddle. "I think it's my father's fault." He grinned at Luneta and said, "
Pax?
"

It was impossible to be angry with the fool for long. Luneta returned his smile and said, "
Pax.
"

Rhience turned back to Ywain. "Listen, Ywain old chap. Next time that we meet a fishwife or tinker, why don't you protect me instead of Luneta? She can take care of herself."

Camelot was everything that Luneta remembered, but seeing it without her parents' comforting presence was unexpectedly intimidating. Riding through the great courtyard ringed with the banners of the Round Table knights, she felt very alone and uncharacteristically shy. Ywain, however, could barely sit still in his saddle for excitement. As they crossed the courtyard toward the stables, he began identifying all the coats of arms. "There's Sir Bedivere's escutcheon! And Cousin Gareth's! There's Sir Griflet Fise de Dieu's! And Cousin Agrivain's!" Luneta began to feel somewhat reassured; she had forgotten how many of the knights of the court were related to her.

The last trace of nervousness disappeared a moment later when, stepping together out of the royal stables, they nearly ran into Luneta's famous uncle Sir Gawain. Seeing her and Ywain, Gawain shouted with delight and immediately swept them away to show them around the court. It was a very strange and exalted feeling for Luneta, being introduced as an equal to people whom she knew primarily as the heroes of minstrels' stories: Sir Kai, Sir Lancelot, Sir Bedivere, and—last of all, King Arthur himself. Of course, she had seen many of these famous people before, on earlier visits with her parents, but it was different this time. She wasn't a child holding her mother's hand, but a lady in her own right. Gawain was careful to include Ywain and Rhience in all his introductions, but it was clear that his greatest pleasure was in presenting the daughter of his favorite brother. As a crowning honor, King Arthur invited the three travelers to join him at his own table at dinner that evening.

Dinner was glorious. Each course was followed by one more splendid than the last. Luneta noticed that the king himself ate sparingly, and then only the simplest dishes, but for her part she tried everything that passed by. So did Ywain, seated on her right, but Rhience, on her other side, spent most of his time watching Luneta.