The Savage Damsel and the Dwarf (3 page)

Lynet clamped her lips shut, offended but not really angry. Along with her resentment at being criticized, she felt an irrepressible urge to laugh, and for once in her life she was able to stifle a sharp reply.

Roger paid no attention to her silence. As they rode, he pointed out landmarks and directional guides. Lynet did not answer, but she listened attentively, and soon began to notice these markers herself. Finally, as they skirted a stand of trees, Lynet forgot to be aloof and asked, "Did we just change direction? Aren't we going more west than we were?"

Roger grinned slowly. "Ay, my lady. Just to get around this copse. Then we'll change back."

Lynet smiled. "It's not so hard after all," she said.

"I've never found it so. Have you decided you can talk to me now?"

Lynet decided to act dignified. She lifted her chin and said, "Was there something you wished to discuss, my good dwarf?"

Roger chuckled. "No, ma'am. Me, I just like to hear how you great ladies talk. It do be so fine."

As Lynet laughed, it occurred to her that until this mocking lapse into country dialect, Roger's speech had been cultured and educated. In many ways, he was a strange dwarf indeed.

Roger continued. "But I
was
wondering what takes you to Camelot."

Lynet decided to be frank. "I need help," she explained. She told Roger about her sister and how the Knight of the Red Lands was trying to force her into marriage. "I'm going to ask the king if he will send a knight to our rescue."

Roger murmured, half to himself, "So you're Idres's daughter, eh?"

Lynet watched the dwarf's face intently. "Yes. What of it?"

The dwarf raised his eyebrows with faint surprise. "Why, nothing at all. I've heard he was a good man is all."

"I beg your pardon," Lynet said gruffly. Then, quietly, she added, "He was."

Roger nodded and said, "Well, your timing is good. It's almost Whitsuntide. Arthur'll be having a feast and hearing requests. He's sure to send someone along to help you."

Lynet lapsed into thoughtful silence. Evidently the dwarf did not know that Duke Idres had rebelled against Arthur, which was good, but Lynet could not believe that Arthur had forgotten. She would still have to hide her identity at court. But would any knight be willing to ride off with a woman who wouldn't tell her name?

Roger laughed suddenly. "In fact, if what you say is true, you may have the pick of the crop. It isn't every day that a knight gets to rescue a damsel in distress who is not only beautiful—you did say she was a looker, didn't you?—but who owns a castle. Quite a catch."

Lynet's face cleared. "That's right." Maybe her job would be easier than she had thought.

An hour later Lynet began to feel hungry, and said so to Roger.

"You just forget about it," he said. "We finished off my food at breakfast."

"Can't we stop while you hunt some more?"

"I'm a terrible hunter."

"I thought all dwarfs were great archers," Lynet said with surprise.

"And I thought all ladies had small appetites."

Lynet laughed. "Only in public. How did you get that venison that we ate last night?"

Roger grinned, a little sheepishly. "I traded for it. I saw a huntsman with a deer and swapped him a new hunting knife for the haunch."

"So what can we eat?" Lynet asked.

Roger stopped his horse and looked pensively at Lynet for a moment. "I've been thinking about that, and I have an idea, but I'm not sure we can carry it off. Put your cloak on."

"Why?"

"I need to see if you can pass as a man or boy. We're lucky you're well built."

Lynet, who had never been especially taken with her large frame, at least in comparison to her willowy older sister, muttered, "Oh yes, lucky." She put on her long traveling cloak and pulled the hood low over her face.

Roger nodded slowly. "It might work; the cloak is long enough to cover your dress, too. All right, listen to me. About an hour from here, there's a secret camp. Only knights and their servants are permitted there, and no lady has ever seen it. There will be food there, and we can spend the night, but you have to promise me that you won't say a word or take off your hood."

Lynet nodded, but she was puzzled. "Even if I pass as a boy, you're not a knight or a knight's servant," she pointed out.

Roger blinked. "Oh, yes. Well, I used to be. I think they'll let us stay. They're good men, and generous."

The dwarf seemed so confident that Lynet accepted his word without question. She was less certain, though, when they finally drew near to the camp, an hour later. They had for some time been riding through dense forest, and Lynet was hopelessly lost again.

"What do you want?" a curt voice growled at them suddenly. Lynet jumped but did not make a sound.

"Two travelers, seeking the Knight's Sabbath," Roger said calmly.

"Your names?" came the voice again.

"I am Roger the dwarf, lately servant to Sir Gaheris, who directed me here. I bring with me a young penitent. He is on pilgrimage to the shrine of Our Lady of Anglesey, where his family hopes his deafness may be healed."

The voice became much friendlier. "Gaheris, eh? Come in, come in, Master Dwarf. We've been wondering about old Gary." Roger led Lynet out of the trees into a small clearing in the very heart of the forest. Several men lay sprawled around a large, cheerful fire. In the shadows near the trees were tethered some horses, and near the horses was a loose pile of armor.

The man who had challenged them in the forest stepped into the light, and Lynet saw a clean-shaven young man with a bright, open face. "Hey, fellows, here's a dwarf who says he's been with Gaheris," he called.

"Have you, now?" said a man with a thin brown beard and keen eyes. "You are fortunate to have served so skilled a knight. A very wizard with a sword, Sir Gaheris is."

Roger bowed slightly. "Your worship must be thinking of a different Sir Gaheris, I'm afraid. The one I know has many gifts, of course, but his swordsmanship ... well, he could use practice."

The knights gave a shout of laughter, and the one with the brown beard grinned broadly. "That's the chap, all right. Forgive me for testing you. Sit down,
friend, and tell us how Gary's doing. Did he ever catch up to that cloth-headed brother of his?"

"Has there still been no word from Sir Gareth?" Roger asked, clearly surprised. He frowned, then shrugged and said, "I left Sir Gaheris several months ago, and I've heard nothing. I am now serving as guide to this deaf and dumb boy. Sir Gaheris had told me that should I ever need food and shelter, I would find both at the Knight's Sabbath. With your permission, I and my young charge will sit behind you and share your repast."

The knight with the brown beard chuckled. "A most civil—and educated—dwarf it is! Who taught you to speak so gently? Gaheris?" Roger nodded, and the knight bowed deeply. "Well, sir, you are welcome to what bounty we have, for the love of your master."

Soon Roger and Lynet, still hidden in her cloak, were positioned securely in the shadows away from the fire. At first, Lynet could concentrate on nothing but the plate of food the knights had given her, but when she was at last full, she began to listen to the knights' conversation.

"Say, have we finished off all the boar?" a portly knight by the fire asked. "We need to send out our great hunter to fetch us another one. How about it, Blueberry?"

A knight with a black beard belched loudly and said, "Anything you want, Saggy. But you have to
promise to stay in camp, so I don't take you for a fine fat hog and spear you by mistake."

The knights laughed, and the portly one sniffed. "By mistake is the only way you'll ever lay a spear on me, lad." The knights laughed again.

Lynet leaned close to Roger and whispered, "Did they just call that knight 'Blueberry'?"

Roger frowned at her to be silent, but a moment later he whispered, "His real name is Sir Bleoberis. The chubby one is Sir Sagramore the Desirous."

'"The Desirous'?"

"It's a joke," Roger explained. "There's no knight more contented than Sir Sagramore. Good knight, though, when he bestirs himself."

"I'll lay you odds I unhorse you in the next tournament," Sir Bleoberis called to Sir Sagramore.

"What? Is there a tournament coming? Heavens, I must make plans to be away," Sir Sagramore said with alarm. "Anyone hear of any great adventures I could be off to?"

The knights roared with laughter. "What sort of adventures are you looking for, Saggy?" asked the young knight who had encountered Roger and Lynet in the forest.

"That's Sir Harry le Fise Lake," Roger whispered to Lynet.

Sir Sagramore struck a noble pose. "Something perilous, something splendid—"

"Something you can do from a sitting position," interrupted the knight with the brown beard. ("Sir Dinadan," whispered Roger.)

"I did hear of one adventure," said Sir Bleoberis. "Not far from Londinium, there's a chap holding a tournament. The winner gets to marry his daughter."

Sir Harry gave a low whistle. "Thanks for the warning. What do you thinks wrong with her?"

"Probably squints," Sir Sagramore said.

"Or has spots," suggested Sir Dinadan. "Best steer clear of Londinium, fellows." The other knights nodded in agreement.

"Now now, Dinadan," Sir Bleoberis said with a grin, "she's probably a very nice girl, one that you'd be proud to show your mother."

"Not I," replied Sir Dinadan. "I've sworn off women. Nothing but a take-in, as Sir Dinas the Seneschal found out. Have you lads heard the tale?" The others shook their heads, and settled themselves comfortably to listen.

Sir Dinadan cleared his throat and began. "In Cornwall, where King Mark ruleth, abideth a passing good knight who is y-clept Sir Dinas—"

"Stow it, Dinadan!" interrupted Sir Harry, laughing. "Just tell us what happened and save the foofaraws for the minstrels."

Sir Dinadan grinned and continued in a more natural tone. "Seems that Sir Dinas loved this lady. Gave
her the best rooms in his castle, gave her everything. But she made a rope out of her towels, climbed out the window, and ran away with another knight."

"Strumpet," Sir Sagramore commented, to no one. "He's better off without her."

"Not so, my jaded friend," replied Sir Dinadan. "When she left, she took along two of Sir Dinas's best hunting dogs, the finest brachets in Cornwall."

Sir Bleoberis grew suddenly animated. "She took his hunting dogs? That's too much, dash it! What did Dinas do?"

"He rode after them. He caught up the next day and challenged the knight. Dinas isn't bad for a Cornish knight, and he killed the chap right there. The woman got all starry-eyed and simpered to Dinas about how wonderful he was and how glad she was he'd rescued her, but Dinas just took his dogs and went home."

The knights laughed coarsely. "Left her in the forest, did he?" crowed Sir Harry. "Good man!"

"Were the dogs all right?" asked Sir Bleoberis.

Lynet listened in indignant silence. While she could not approve of the lady's secret affair, she could easily imagine herself in the woman's place, left alone and friendless in the forest with her lover's corpse. She was astonished at these knights' callousness.

"You say this Dinas was a good fighter, eh?" Sir Harry commented. "I didn't think there were any good knights in Cornwall."

"There aren't many, and that's a fact," Sir Dinadan agreed. "But they're not as bad as all that. I think they have a bad reputation because their king is such a bleeder."

"Is King Mark as bumbling as they say?" Sir Bleoberis asked.

Sir Dinadan grinned and glanced into the shadows where Roger and Lynet sat. "Maybe our dwarf can help us with that. I heard that King Mark was unhorsed by old Gaheris. Is that so?"

Roger nodded. "S'truth," he said. "I was there."

"Good Gog," said Sir Sagramore. "This Mark must be blind and crippled, then. Unhorsed by Gary! I could never hold my head up again."

The knights continued talking around the fire, telling stories, laughing good-naturedly at themselves and others. Lynet wrapped up in her blankets and listened, alternately shocked and amused by their casual attitude toward each others' feelings. No matter how they insulted each other, no one ever seemed to take offense. How differently a group of ladies would act, she reflected as she went to sleep.

The sky was still dark, and the stars still bright when Roger woke Lynet and indicated with gestures that it was time to go. Wordlessly, she helped Roger saddle the horses, then mounted and followed the dwarf out of the forest. Only after they had ridden for almost half an hour did Roger speak. "Sorry to wake you so early,
but I thought it would be best if we were gone before the others awoke. Less chance they'd spot you for a lady." Lynet nodded, and Roger added, "Though they might not have guessed anyway, from how silent you were. You did very well in there, holding your tongue."

"You mean that you thought all ladies talk too much?"

The dwarf laughed. "I must admit that you are a surprising lady."

"And you," said Lynet, "are a surprising dwarf. You don't act or talk like a dwarf, you know. Even that Sir Dinadan noticed it. And how is it that you seem to know all of them so well, but they didn't recognize you?"

Roger did not look at her. "No one notices a dwarf," he said at last.

The dwarf's voice was wistful, and Lynet tactfully changed the subject. "What did you call that place? The Knight's something?"

"'The Knight's Sabbath'," Roger said quickly. "It's a secret resting place for knights errant. They go out to seek adventures, which is deucedly uncomfortable and not always so easy—adventures don't grow on every tree—and after a while they get tired of it. Then they go to the Knight's Sabbath. There they hunt all day, talk all evening, and make up stories of their great adventures to tell when they go home."

"But that's terrible!" Lynet exclaimed.

Roger turned his short, stocky body and looked at
her seriously. "Why? None of those men back there ever really wanted to be a knight. Not one of them enjoys fighting, jousting, rescuing damsels, and so on."