Under A Velvet Cloak (11 page)

“There is no need.” She had a notion of its nature, and preferred to avoid the subject.

“I believe there is, for I value my integrity. Last night as we shared warmth, I had untoward awareness of you.”

“You did nothing. I would have known.”

“That is not enough. I prefer to be chaste in mind as well as body. I apologize for being mentally unchaste with you.”

“Sir Gawain, I am long since unchaste; you cannot wrong me in such fashion, mentally or physically. Had anything happened, it would have been my fault for tempting you unduly. Please have no concern.”

“I suppose that is the case. Yet you have been perfect as I have known you, temperate and useful. I would not know your history had you not told me your identity.”

“I wish I had no history, so as to be as you would like to see me.”

“As far as I am concerned, you are as I see you.”

She felt an unaccustomed tear. “I hope never to disappoint you.” And what of her mission? Now she hated it.

They traveled, exchanging good deeds for sustenance, and when that was not feasible, camping out. Kerena made sure always to see to the horses, conjuring water when the landscape was too dry. Unfortunately, one day Gawain caught her at it.

“How came you by that water?”

“I have a talent for finding springs.”

He merely gazed at her with disappointment.

“A magic talent,” she said, amending it. She was unable to lie directly to him. “I have a-a way with the dark arts. I did not want to embarrass you with that information.”

“I have known it,” he said. “You can strike fire from nothing.”

“Yes. But my ability need not sully you; I had it before I knew you, and you have never asked me to practice it.”

“You have used it only at need, to serve me or the horses.”

“I promised to be useful.”

He considered. “I do not consider magic to be unclean, any more than sex is. I am aware that they are common for most people, and often useful. I merely prefer to retain the benefits of abstinence from things that can interfere with my mission.”

“That is worthy.”

“You are beautiful.”

She wasn’t sure how to react, and not just because she was in ill-fitting brush-dried apparel, with her hair clumsily knotted and dirt on her feet. “You are kind.”

“I am not referring to your appearance, though that is outstanding. In the things that matter, you have been the ideal maiden.”

Again she felt the tear. “I am not.”

“You believe that your past sullies you. I do not see it that way.”

Now tears flowed in earnest. “I am what my history makes me. I can never be ideal.”

He put his arms about her, comfortingly. “I apologize for bringing you grief.”

“Don’t apologize to me!” she flared, pulling away. “I am not worthy of it.”

“But you are.”

“I am not!” She was in full dismay. That made her reckless. “I will prove it. I am not here on my own. I was sent by Morgan le Fey to seduce you so you could not find the Grail.”

That set him back. “I did not know this.”

“Now you
do.
I must leave you, lest I corrupt you.” Now she had betrayed her mission. What possessed her?

“You could have done this before now. Why didn’t you?”

“Because I love you.” Oh, damn! She had let her emotion govern her sense. But that did answer her own question: love possessed her. She couldn’t stand to hurt this man, and further silence was bound to do that.

“But don’t you have a man you seek?”

“I love him too,” she said, bemused by her own state. “I would not hurt either of you. So I must go.”

“I know something of the Fey. She is not a nice person. She will punish you if you fail your mission.”

“I know. But so it must be.”

“I can not allow this. You must stay.”

“I want to, but not for proper reason.”

“Damn proper reason!” he swore, surprising her. “It is in any event too late.”

“I don’t understand. If I leave now-”

“I am already corrupted, in my heart. I can not continue my mission without you.”

“Oh, Sir Gawain! I am sorry.”

“So am I. We have no future together. I could never marry you; my family would not allow it. They would not see the qualities in you that I see. So I have nothing to offer you. But neither can I let you
go.”

“I must go, for that reason.” Kerena came to her difficult decision.

But now the time lines began to blur. Jolie had to intercede. She moved back to just before that decision, suppressing it.

“Then what are we to do?” Kerena asked.

“We must continue. Perhaps I can achieve the Grail before I
do
with you what I so desperately desire.”

That was playing it very fine. But what else was there? “I will try to support you in this.”

“Thank you. Do not let me touch you, lest I be overwhelmed.”

“I could not resist your touch.”

“We must stay
apart”
he agreed.

They continued to travel, without touching so much as a finger to each other. But Kerena knew this could not continue indefinitely. Not since Morely had she truly wanted to clasp a man in love; all between had been business and convenience. Yet that clasp would ruin his mission. They both knew it.

They came to a broad plain overgrown with tall dried grass. It was fine for the horses to graze on, but there was no water. So Kerena tapped a stone to make it issue water, and caught enough for both animals to drink Then they moved off, contentedly grazing.

“I don’t think I should make a fire,” Kerena said. “It is so dry here, the grass might catch, and we might not be able to get it out.”

“I agree. We can do without a fire.”

They ate what they had, and made ready for the evening. The horses would graze through the night and return in the morning; they required no supervision.

Then Kerena sniffed the air and felt something. “There is fire,” she said nervously. “Not of my doing.”

“There is,” he agreed. “And wind. I fear this is bad news.” He tended to understate things.

The fire flared up, racing toward them, consuming the dry grass. They could not outrun it; it was crossing the field in a broad swath, incited by the wind. Flames flew ahead, to ignite grass ahead. It was a thorough conflagration, with smoke roiling above.

“Forgive me,” Kerena said. “I must use stronger magic.”

“Forgiven!” He was after all a practical man.

She returned to the rock she had evoked to water the horses. This time she intensified the spell. A fountain appeared, jetting up beyond head-height and spreading out. The water splashed back to the ground, forming an expanding puddle. As the fire closed in on them, surrounding them, the water spread out to intercept it. There was a great hissing and an awful smell, but the fire could not reach them.

Yet all through the field it was burning. They could not leave their puddle.

“Pray that the horses found a river,” Sir Gawain said.

“Surely they did. They are fast enough to outrun it, and smart enough to avoid it.”

There was nothing to do but settle for the night. But their bedding was sodden, and though she had let the fountain subside as the fire burned itself out, all they had to lie down on was mud.

“I would not have you sleep on that,” Sir Gawain said gallantly. “I will lie on it, and you may use me as a bed.”

“That must not be. We would be touching.”

“But fully clothed. That needs must suffice.”

“Better we sleep apart. I can survive mud.”

“I mislike it. Allow me to do this much for you, Rena. You are precious to me.”

“And you to me. That’s why we must sleep apart”

“Your mission is to seduce me, yet you oppose it.”

“Yes. I want you to have the Grail.”

“Though that will cost you the Fey’s enmity.”

She smiled. “I appreciate the irony.”

“Yet if I touch you, you will not oppose me.”

“I can’t. I desire you intensely, though I curse the cost of you.”

“Your diffidence appeals to me as much as your body.”

“Oh, this is awful! I am tempting you even as I try to spare you.”

“The game is lost. I must have you, though hell betide. Only your negation can stop me, for I would not cross a maiden’s will.”

“I can’t deny you. Stay clear.” The words seemed contradictory, but they both knew what she meant.

“I am a man of realism as well as aspiration. You have become more vital to me than the Grail.”

“Don’t say that!”

“You exist. That may be more than can be said for the famed goblet.” He removed his clothing.

Kerena knew she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t help herself. She removed her own clothing.

They stood facing each other, a small distance apart, mutually naked. Her body was quivering with yearning; his was rampant. Desire suffused them like invisible fire. Then they came together, embracing, kissing, stroking, struggling for closer contact. And slipped and fell to the mud.

It didn’t matter. He was on her and in her, and she was on him and around him, and they were ardently kissing through the mud that quickly coated them. Taken as a whole, it was glorious.

They spent the rest of the night clasped. There was no counting the times he penetrated her, or the times she took him in. It was seemingly endless passion.

In the morning the fire had burned out, the horses had returned, and they were so mud-caked as to be virtually unrecognizable. “We shouldn’t have done that,” Kerena said ruefully.

He laughed. “If I had to become unchaste, this was the appropriate way to do it. Filthy sex.”

She joined in, almost hysterically. They certainly looked the part. Yet she was deeply saddened by it too; he had lost his prime mission in life.

She evoked the fountain again, and they took turns stepping into it and rinsing themselves off. It required several rinsings to thin the mud and wash it out of their hair and body crevices.

And of course the sight of their clean wet nudity aroused renewed interest, and they stepped into the fountain together and made love standing amidst the flowing water.

“My emotion is mixed,” Sir Gawain said. “Yet I think my joy of possessing you is greater than my grief of losing the Grail.”

She did not remind him that he might have had both, had they been able to wait.

In due course they started back the way they had come, as there seemed to be no further point in pursuing the Grail. The journey would take many days, and they did not hurry. Instead they camped out often, and made love more often, catching up on previously suppressed passion. It was the gloriously open expression of their love, which would have to end once they got home. That was why they were satisfied to
go
slowly.

About two days distant from the capital town, they had another vision. This time there was no garbage pit; the divine Chalice was floating above the middle of the road. There was no doubt of its nature; it was an ornate golden goblet that glowed of its own volition. It was so lovely that both of them stared raptly.

“Do you see it?” Sir Gawain whispered.

“I
do
see it,” she whispered back. “It’s the Grail, come to you after all. Take it, beloved!”

Sir Gawain strode forward, reaching for the scintillating cup. It floated away, avoiding him. He could not catch it. “I knew it,” he said, crestfallen. “I am not worthy.”

It floated toward Kerena. In sudden ire, she picked up a stick and smashed at the goblet. To her amazement, her blow connected. The cup shattered into myriad shards.

Appalled, she stared. Then she stooped to pick up a shard, but it was gone; there were no fragments on the ground. “It was illusion,” she said.

“To show me what I lost,” he said. “My shame.”

“My fault. If I had not-”

“Never your fault,” he said quickly. “You were candid about your mission, and tried to depart. It was solely my weakness.”

“Still, I’m so sorry.”

He held her and kissed her. “I am not. My weakness of character was always within me, and had to be exposed some time. I was never destined to take the Grail. I deceived myself about that. I am glad to have known and loved you, however briefly. You are a treasure.”

“I’m the one who corrupted you!”

“You’re the one who made me recognize my true nature.” He kissed her again.

They found a place and made love beside the road, in full daylight. It was wonderful, as always.

The two days distance somehow took three days, and they made love so many times it felt like five days. Then at last the turrets of the capital town came into view. They used the horses as a shield against discovery and made love once more.

“I will always love you, Rena,” he said.

“And I you.”

“I think we must see each other never again.”

“Never again,” she agreed.

They kissed one final time, then reluctantly separated. They rode the horses on toward the town.

“So you were successful, and he did not take the Grail,” the Fey said with satisfaction as Kerena concluded her report. The woman had demanded every detail.

“Not because I wanted to be,” Kerena said sadly.

“You fell for him, of course. I thought that would make you more eager to clasp him.”

Evidently the Fey did not appreciate the self sacrificing quality of true love. Kerena did not argue the case. “Teach me the final secret of the cloak.”

The woman nodded. “Your usefulness to me now is ended. It is this: you must wear it and focus exclusively on the thing you most desire. Then speak a standard invocation, and it will orient on that thing. You will feel it turning you to face that direction. When you are distant, it will be a faint impulse; as you get near it will become stronger. It will inevitably lead you there.”

So simple, now that she knew. Why hadn’t she figured it out for herself? Perhaps because she had not felt quite ready. But now she was more than ready. She had been denied Sir Gawain, but Morely remained. “Thank you.”

“I doubt we shall ever meet again,” the Fey said. “But if we do, it is likely to be as enemies.”

“Enemies? I have never opposed you.” Not successfully, at any rate.