The Lioness and Her Knight (27 page)

"Hmm," Luneta said, shaking her head. "But you'd already promised to help Philomena."

"You see, I made this promise once to always help maidens in need," Gawain explained. "The only thing is, it's not always clear how best to do that. I have a strong suspicion that I've been used here."

Terence rolled his eyes and said softly, "Do you think?"

Gawain ignored his squire and said to Luneta, "I'm hoping that nothing will come of it, after all. The younger sister was sent out to find a champion nearly three weeks ago, and nothing's been heard of her since. Maybe she won't show up."

"She almost didn't," Luneta said. "About two weeks ago I found her lying in a ditch. She had been stabbed in the back."

Terence looked up sharply, and Gawain's face grew grim. "But she's alive?" Gawain demanded.

"She's fine," Luneta said.

Terence's face broke into a bright smile. "With your help, I gather?"

"That's right."

"Then you chose the third vial," Terence said.

"Yes," Luneta said. "Like my mother."

"What are you two talking about?" Gawain demanded.

"I'll explain it to you someday, maybe," Terence said, his eyes still resting approvingly on Luneta's face.

"Dash it, Terence! I
hate
being treated like a five-year-old! I gather that it has to do with some magical Seelie Court business that you seem to think I wouldn't understand, but I'll have you know that I—"

Terence broke in on his master, asking Luneta, "And I gather that you've brought the younger sister to Camelot with you?"

Luneta nodded.

"With a champion?" Terence continued.

Luneta nodded.

The three were silent for a moment, then Gawain said resignedly, "Blast. Who is it?"

"He's called the Knight of the Lion," Luneta said.

"That fellow who's been killing giants and saving whole towns off in the midlands?" Gawain asked.

"That's right, except that it wasn't really a giant."

"It hardly ever is," Gawain said. "But he still sounds formidable. They're already making up songs about him. Do you know him?"

Luneta nodded. "So do you," she said. "It's Ywain."

For a long minute no one spoke. Then Gawain lowered his chin to his chest and said, "Double blast."

"I don't understand," Terence said after another moment. "Why would Ywain agree to fight Gawain?"

"He didn't know who Philomena's champion was," Luneta said. "Still doesn't, in fact. None of us knew." Then Luneta swallowed and lifted her chin. "And because I didn't know, I talked him into it."

"You did?" Terence asked mildly.

"That's right," Luneta said bitterly. "You'd be astonished at how much misery I can cause by talking people into doing things. Is there anything we can do? Can you go to the king and say that the duty to family is more important than the vow you've taken?"

"No," Gawain said simply.

"Can Arthur outlaw all trials by combat?"

"He'd love to have an excuse to do that," Gawain replied. "But even if he did, it wouldn't change this one. He can't take back a trial he's already sanctioned."

"Can you ... can you not fight very hard?" Luneta asked helplessly. Gawain didn't even bother answering, and after a moment Luneta said, "No, you can't do that. For one thing, Ywain won't be holding back. You'll fight until one of you collapses."

"Which will take hours," Terence said.

For several minutes they sat in silence, pondering the problem. Luneta was thinking about what Terence had said, that the fight would take hours. At last, Gawain shrugged and sighed and said, "Maybe nothing very bad will come of this. After all, the trials by combat aren't to the death anymore."

"That's what Rhience said to Ywain," Luneta replied. "But Ywain said only that any time you fight with real swords, someone can die."

"What was that?" Terence asked suddenly.

Luneta repeated what Ywain had said, and Terence nodded slowly. "Yes," he said, "that's very true."

Luneta didn't give up. That evening Gawain was able to get her a private audience with King Arthur and his chief counselor, Sir Kai. A year before, she had been tongue-tied in the presence of her great relative and sovereign, but this time she was too concerned about Ywain and Gawain, and she poured out her story to the king. He listened gravely, but then only said, "I don't know of a thing I can do, my dear."

"The problem," Luneta said, "is that neither Ywain nor Gawain will do less than his best."

"That's why they are the men that they are," King Arthur said, nodding.

"But don't you see, if that's the case, then it hasn't done a bit of good for you to say that these trials should not be fights to the death, because neither one of them will yield to the other!" Luneta said, allowing frustration to creep into her voice.

"I am aware of the futility of my command," the king replied. "It was all I could think of at the time. Have you any further ideas?"

Luneta hesitated, feeling the king's gentle irony, then said, "Actually, there
is
one more thing you could do."

The king's brows rose, but he replied evenly, "I am open to any suggestion."

Luneta pressed on doggedly. "I was thinking about this last night after talking to Gawain and Terence. You can't stop them from fighting or from fighting their hardest, but do you think you could put a time limit on the combat?"

King Arthur blinked and looked sharply at Sir Kai, then back at Luneta. "A time limit?" he repeated.

Sir Kai began to laugh softly. "You
did
ask for suggestions, Arthur. Don't be too surprised when you get one—and a damned good one at that."

The king's face softened. He gave a boyish smile and began to speak slowly. "A time limit. The battle shall be limited to one hour. If neither knight has yielded by then, the matter shall be decided by the court. It's so obvious. Lady Luneta, I thank you. It shall be done just as you say."

Luneta was relieved, but only partially. "What happens if one of them accidentally kills the other before the first hour is up?" she asked.

The king's smile disappeared. "I can do nothing about that," he said sadly.

Pleased but not yet satisfied, Luneta walked back to the room that she had been assigned by Sir Kai. It wasn't very large, but word had gotten out to the nobility of England that there was to be a trial by combat, which was almost as good as a tournament, and rooms were scarce. As she made her way through the castle halls, Luneta passed several gatherings of courtiers and ladies, and they were all speculating excitedly on the forthcoming contest between Sir Gawain and the famous Knight of the Lion. No one seemed to know that the knight was Ywain, which was good, but it hardly mattered. The notion of a knight who had a lion had taken strong possession of the court's imagination, and all were agog to see this wonderful new thing. It was being spoken of throughout the court as "The Mightiest Battle Ever," and no one seemed to care a straw that one of these great knights might be killed. Luneta wondered if Rhience had arrived yet.

Luneta pushed open the door to her private bedchamber and noticed that a small fire was burning on the hearth. A man's voice said, "Hello, lass."

Her heart leaped, but the voice wasn't Rhience's. Blinking into the gloom, Luneta made out two figures seated by a small fire. Then she gasped.

"Father! Mother!" she said.

"Hope you don't mind us invading your room," her father said, rising to his feet. "But there weren't any other spots to be had."

"Of course not," Luneta said automatically. She was looking at her mother.

"Hello, Luneta," her mother said. "You look well."

"You too," Luneta said. "It's good to see you."

"And me too?" asked her father.

Luneta laughed softly. "Yes, of course, Father. It's good to see you, too."

"Good Lord!" Luneta's mother said suddenly. "Luneta, look at me!"

Luneta did, stepping forward into the light of the fire. She smiled, knowing exactly what her mother was looking at. She was looking at her mother the same way. Why had she never noticed it before? The deep and piercing eyes of an enchantress. "Why didn't you ever tell me, Mother?" Luneta asked.

"Will you tell your daughter, if you have one?" her mother replied simply.

Luneta considered this, then shook her head. "Of course not."

"Was it Morgan?"

"Yes."

Her mother said slowly, "Well, you aren't a radiant beauty."

"Why, thank you very much, Mother," Luneta said, dipping an ironic curtsy.

"You know very well what I'm talking about," her mother said tartly.

"I'm glad that
she
does, anyway," Luneta's father murmured.

"If you had chosen the second cordial, you'd be stunning right now, maybe more beautiful even than Morgan, since you're so pretty to start with. So you didn't pick that one."

"I chose the third vial, Mother. Like you."

Luneta's father sank slowly back into his chair. "Oh, no," he said simply, covering his eyes with his hand. "No, no, no. Please don't tell me that—"

Luneta's mother said briskly, "I told you two years ago that it was possible, Gary. I wasn't sure, but sometimes I thought I could see the look in her."

"Just what I need," Luneta's father said glumly. "Another witch in the house!"

"Enchantress," Luneta and her mother said in unison, Their eyes met, and then they began to laugh. Luneta held out her arms, and they embraced.

At last they drew apart, and Luneta said, "But what are you two doing here? Don't tell me you've come to see this dreadful trial by combat."

"You mean 'The Mightiest Battle Ever'?" Luneta's father asked. "No, we knew nothing about it until we heard a town crier announcing it yesterday some fifty miles up the road. Is it true? Did Gawain really consent to fight in this thing? Has he lost his mind?"

"He thought he was helping a damsel in distress," Luneta explained.

"Silly sod," her father remarked. "Nothing more dangerous than a damsel in distress—except perhaps a damsel who isn't in distress. I shall have to think about that."

"Don't wear yourself out, Gary," Luneta's mother said. "And this Knight of the Lion, do you know anything about him? Is he as powerful as they say?"

"Very nearly, I imagine," Luneta said. "It's Ywain."

"'Struth?" demanded Luneta's father. "Little Ywain?"

"How in Heaven did all this come about?" Luneta's mother asked, aghast.

Luneta felt tears come to her eyes, and she brushed them away angrily. "It was my fault," she said.

"Would you like to explain?" her mother asked.

"From the beginning, please," added her father. "I'll build up the fire."

Three hours and two armloads of wood later, Luneta finished her story, and she and her parents sat around her fire, staring at the coals.

At last Luneta's mother said, "So you used the maturity charm on apple blossoms and got them to produce apples?"

"Yes."

"But that's amazing. Even some of the most advanced enchantresses can't do that. I know that I certainly could never make the maturity charm work."

"Perhaps the two of you could talk shop some other time," Luneta's father said.

"If I could, I would have used it on your father long ago," Luneta's mother said.

Luneta's father chuckled. "
Touché.
But all I meant was that we need to think what we can do about this trial. Could we effect a reconciliation between the two sisters, do you think?"

"After the elder had a knife stuck in the younger's back?" Luneta's mother asked.

"Can't hurt to try," her father said. "Especially since I can't think what else to do."

At these words, a new voice said, "Ah, I've come just intime."

Luneta and her parents started and whirled around, to see Terence standing just inside Luneta's door. "Deuce it, Terence!" Luneta's father expostulated. "You'll kill someone that way someday! How did you get inside without any of us hearing you?"

"I came in the door, of course," Terence replied, stepping forward. He held two swords in scabbards, which he tossed onto Luneta's bed as he approached.

"For anyone else, the hinges would have squeaked," Luneta's father muttered.

Terence smiled but turned his eyes to Luneta. "I just wanted to let you know that I've taken a step of my own to help matters—at least, I hope it will serve."

"What's that?" Luneta demanded.

"You said the other night that any time people fight with real swords, someone can be killed. That set me to thinking. First of all, I realized that Gawain should not use his own sword in the battle." Terence glanced at Luneta and added, "His sword is faery-made, you see. Quite an advantage for him. Then I began to wonder if this could be used another way. So I've just been to visit a blacksmith friend, and he's worked pretty well nonstop for the past two days to put these together." Terence gestured at the swords.

"They aren't real swords?" Luneta said, light slowly dawning.

"Oh, they're real enough," Terence said. "I feel sure that there's a rule somewhere against using wooden swords. But these are different. The blades aren't made of steel, but of untreated iron."

"I see," Luneta's father said. "And iron will break more easily than steel."

"As you say," Terence said.

"I can't say I think much of this plan," Luneta's father pointed out. "What happens if one person's sword breaks and the other person's doesn't?"

"True," Terence said gravely. "But it was all I could think of." And with that, he turned and departed as silently as he had come.

"Well, of all the daft-headed notions!" Luneta's father said disgustedly. "I've never known Terence to be so absurd!"

"And he's gone off and left the swords here, too," Luneta's mother said. "Very unlike him."

"Mother!" Luneta said, joy suddenly leaping up in her breast. "Oh, Mother! It's perfect!"

"What are you talking about, Luneta? What's perfect?"

"They're iron! Don't you see? Untreated iron!"

The hard part would be getting the right sword to Ywain. Gawain was easy: they simply gave his sword to Terence, who promised to see that Gawain used it. But not only did Ywain have no squire, but he wasn't even coming to the court until just before the combat. Luneta simply had to wait.