"Why do you call Beaufils 'Le Beau,' Sir Gawain?" asked Ellyn. They were following a thin track across a moor toward the dark line of trees that marked the edge of a forest.
"You can just call me Gawain, Lady Ellyn," the knight replied. "You don't have to use the formal title while we travel."
"Thank you, and you can call me just Ellyn, but I was asking about what you call Beaufils."
Gawain grinned and glanced at Beaufils. "You want to tell her?"
"If you like," Beaufils replied. He looked at Ellyn and said, "You see, I'm not sure if Beaufils is even my real name. It was what my mother always called me, but it turns out that it's just another way of saying 'fair son.'"
"You don't even know if it's your real name? Didn't your mother ever call you anything else?"
"Why would she?" Beaufils replied. "Without any other people around, we always knew who we were talking to. Until a few weeks ago, I didn't even know that people had their own special names."
"Anyway," Gawain said, "when our friend here came to Camelot and explained all this, a friend of mine there—Sir Kai—called him 'Le Beau Desconus,' which means something like 'the Fair Unknown.' I just like the sound of that better than 'Fair Son.'"
"I think I do, too," Ellyn said. "After all, you're not just somebody's fair son; you're more than that."
"But what?" Beaufils asked.
"That," Ellyn replied, "is still unknown, isn't it?"
They had come to the edge of the forest by now, and their narrow path led right into the thick trees. Beaufils's eye was caught by an unexpected gleam of white beside the track, and looking more closely, he made out a small painted sign, nearly hidden by several years' growth of saplings. The faded letters of the sign read THE SACRED FOREST.
"What the devil does that mean?" Gawain asked, after Beaufils had pointed it out to the others.
"I've heard stories of enchanted forests," Ellyn remarked. "I'm not sure what a sacred forest is, though."
"I would have thought all forests were sacred," Beaufils added.
"Anyway, it sounds promising," Gawain said. "Where better to look for a Holy Grail than in a sacred forest?"
The passage between the trees was tight enough that they had to ride single file. Gawain went first, followed by Ellyn, and Beaufils brought up the rear. It was hard to carry on a conversation that way, and Beaufils hoped that the path through the sacred forest wouldn't always be so narrow. Thus he was pleased when, just a few minutes after they entered the woods, the path widened and emptied into a small clearing. There he saw a tiny one-room log house with a very old, obviously long unused cookfire outside.
"What a small house," Beaufils commented. "Even the house that Mother and I made in our forest was bigger than that."
"Looks like a hermitage to me," Gawain said.
"What's that?"
"It's where a hermit lives," Gawain said. Then, at Beaufils's puzzled frown, Gawain chuckled. "I'll have to do better than that, won't I? Let's see. A hermit is a person who goes off to live alone and think about God. That probably doesn't make sense, does it?"
Beaufils frowned and said slowly, "No, I think I understand. I've only been in the world outside our forest a short time now, but I can see that it might be easier to think about God when you're alone. The world's a bit loud, isn't it? So these hermits are very holy men?"
Gawain avoided Beaufils's eyes as he replied, "Er, I have met one who was, yes."
Beaufils smiled. "Then I should like to meet a hermit. Pity that this hermitage is empty."
"Just what I was thinking," Gawain said. "Oh well, I suppose we should move on."
Before long, they came to another empty hermitage, and then a third. Ellyn said she was beginning to have an idea why this was called the Sacred Forest.
At last, at their fourth hermitage, they had better luck and found a real hermit, although Gawain managed to conceal his pleasure. The hermit was a tall, stoop-shouldered man with black hair that was turning gray at the sides. As the travelers rode into his clearing, the hermit rose to his feet and said, "I bid you welcome, travelers, if you are friends of God," the man said.
"Well, I think we are," Gawain said. "I'm Sir Gawain of Orkney, and this is Lady Ellyn of Carlisle and Le Beau of Desconus. We are on a quest together in this forest."
The hermit's eyes had grown suddenly intent. "What do you mean, you think you are friends of God?" he demanded.
Gawain blinked but replied, "I just meant that we try to be."
The man shook his head vigorously. "Then you are greatly misled. You can never be God's friend by trying, can never be justified by your own efforts. You must realize that you are sinners to the core."
"Oh," Gawain said. "Do you, ah, do you know us, sir?"
"Do not take my words personally," the hermit said. "I speak not only of you but of all humanity. I know of what I speak; I am Father Rolbert, formerly master of theology at Oxford University."
"Formerly?" Gawain asked, glancing around at Father Rolbert's spare hermit's quarters.
"I could not stay at Oxford, for my soul's sake. You may not believe this, but even in that place of divine study, I found false doctrine and heresy. I could no longer associate with false teachers. The truth is not in them." His eyes glowed unpleasantly, and Beaufils felt mildly disappointed. He wasn't sure what very holy men were like, but he hadn't imagined they would be like this.
Gawain nodded slowly. "I'll keep that in mind. Listen, Father Rolbert, what we are really seeking is something called the Holy Grail."
"If you are destined to find it, then you shall. If not, then you can never do so."
"Just like that?" asked Gawain. "All a matter of destiny?"
"That is correct," Father Rolbert said.
Gawain scratched his beard, then said, "But if that's true, then I don't have to look for the thing at all, do I? I mean, if I'm destined to find the Grail, then it'll come to me. I can just go back to court and drink beer and wait."
Father Rolbert shook his head, frowning. "No, if you did that, it would be a sure sign that you were not destined to achieve your quest."
"Then what I choose to do does make a difference," Gawain said.
"No, no. You have no choice at all. Just as God, in his mercy, has preordained some to heaven and some to eternal flames, so he has also preordained the one who will achieve this and every other quest."
"I'm confused," said Beaufils. "Should we keep looking for the Grail or not?"
"Yes, you should," Father Rolbert replied, with the air of one instructing a small and not particularly bright child. "But do not seek it because you think you can achieve it. You can achieve nothing of yourself. Instead, seek it because it might be God's will for you to find it."
This didn't really make any more sense to Beaufils, but he nodded politely, hoping to avoid any further explanations.
"How about this?" Gawain said. "Suppose for a moment that we might be fated to find the Grail—"
A spasm of distaste crossed Father Rolbert's face, and he interrupted hastily. "Not fated; predestined."
"What's the difference?" Gawain asked.
"Fate is the heresy that the pagan Greeks and Romans taught; predestination is the true doctrine of the right faith."
"Right, my mistake," Gawain said. "As I was about to say, if we were predestined to find the Grail, do you know which direction we might be predestined to take? I see that there are two different paths leaving this clearing."
"It matters little which way you take," Father Rolbert said, shaking his head sadly. "Both paths lead to grave danger."
"What sort of danger? Monsters? Recreant knights?"
"Worse! Down each of those paths is a hermit, both of whom teach heretical falsehoods that imperil your very soul. They are not of God's elect."
Beaufils grinned. "Recreant hermits?" he asked.
Gawain chuckled, then jerked his head at one of the paths. "Shall we take a chance on the doctrinal danger to the right? If you're not too frightened, I mean."
"I'm very brave," Ellyn said. "The righthand path it is." With that, the three companions rode away, leaving Father Rolbert alone again. Beaufils hoped that having correct doctrines was good company.
Ten minutes later they came to the next clearing and drew up at the edge of the forest, watching. At first Beaufils thought this hermitage was deserted as well, but then he saw a tendril of smoke rising from a hole in the roof.
"Do we really want to do this?" Gawain asked.
"I was just wondering that, too," replied Ellyn.
"Seems like you can't fling a rock in this forest without beaning a holy man," Gawain added. "Not that I'm suggesting that, necessarily."
"They're as thick as fleas," agreed Ellyn.
Beaufils was puzzled. "You think this hermit might be like Father Rolbert?" Gawain and Ellyn nodded. "Why?" asked Beaufils. "There must be more than one kind of holiness, after all."
Gawain muttered, "Hope so," then bowed and gestured for Beaufils to go ahead of him. "As you wish, lad. Lead the way."
Beaufils urged Clover out of the trees and into the clearing, calling out, "Hello? Hermit?"
A smiling, yellow-haired man came to the door of the hut and waved. He looked to be about Gawain's age. "Welcome, travelers," he said.
"Thank you," Beaufils replied. Since he had gone first, he supposed that he was expected to speak for the group.
"I don't get many knights and ladies as visitors," the hermit replied, looking past Beaufils. "But you are welcome. I am Brother Denys."
"I'm glad to know you," Beaufils replied. "I'm Beaufils, and these are my friends Gawain and Ellyn."
"Sir Gawain? Of Arthur's court?" Brother Denys said, smiling widely. "I am honored. What brings you to my humble hermitage?"
Brother Denys still hadn't given Beaufils more than a cursory glance, addressing himself entirely to the others, but Beaufils continued to speak. "Actually, Brother Denys, we're on a quest. Some say it's a holy sort of quest, so we thought maybe a holy man could help us."
"A holy quest?" Brother Denys asked, finally looking at Beaufils.
"Yes," Beaufils replied. "We're looking for something called the Grail. It appeared to King Arthur's court a week or so back, floating in the air, and a loud voice came from nowhere saying that it was the goal of everyone's desire. Then it disappeared. Have you seen anything like that around here?"
Brother Denys's face lit up. "What a miracle! How I wish I had been there!"
"Does that mean yes or no?" Beaufils asked.
"I've seen nothing like that here, though I do see many visions."
"Bother," Beaufils said to his companions. "No luck here, either."
"Either?" asked Brother Denys, his voice sharper. "Whom else have you been asking?"
"Well, we just came from the hut of Father Rolbert—"
"Father Rolbert!" interrupted Brother Denys, with sudden sharpness. "Don't speak to me of Father Rolbert!"
"But you asked me who we had—"
"I never want to hear of Father Rolbert again! Father Rolbert's faith is all head faith! He knows how to divide syllogisms and talk the ears off a mule, but he has no heart! Father Rolbert wouldn't know a vision if it sat on his face! Father Rolbert has driven more good young men away from the faith than Satan himself. I hate the sound of his name!"
"Why do you keep saying it, then?" asked Beaufils.
"If you've been to see him," Brother Denys said, ignoring Beaufils's question, "then you are in grave danger of being led astray."
"Funny," commented Beaufils, "that's what he said about—"
"Come here, boy," Brother Denys said. He held out his arms, and Beaufils slipped obligingly from Clover's back and came to the hermit, who reached out and gripped both of Beaufils's hands in his own, then raised his eyes toward the sky. "Purge this boy of evil, I pray! Rid his mind of the dry doctrines of the devil! Enter his heart and warm it, O Spirit!"
Brother Denys went on like this for another few minutes, occasionally giving Beaufils's hands a squeeze, as if to show particular seriousness. Beaufils looked helplessly over his shoulder at Gawain and Ellyn. Ellyn looked concerned, but Gawain was grinning broadly. When he caught Beaufils's eyes, he wiggled his gauntleted fingers in a little wave.
Brother Denys prayed on. "Oh, remove sin and falseness from this boy's heart and mind, I pray, oh yes, oh yes, render us up in Thy sight, yes, and bind Satan from his attacks, yes, yes..." The hermit actually began to cry, tears rolling proudly down his cheeks. "Show us the true way of your Spirit!" he proclaimed. Then his eyes, pointed toward heaven, widened oddly.
Beaufils followed the hermit's gaze but saw nothing above them. "Is there something up there?" Beaufils asked.
Brother Denys, still crying, released Beaufils and raised his arms above his head. Beaufils stepped back quickly, to make sure he didn't get caught again, but the hermit wasn't watching him anymore. His lips moved, his eyes glazed over, and still he wept. At last he lowered his arms and focused his gaze on Beaufils. "Did you feel it?" he asked.
"Of course I felt it. You were squeezing me."
"Not that! The Spirit! Did you feel the Spirit fall on you? Did your heart warm? Did you cry?"
"Er, no," Beaufils said. Then, at the hermit's crestfallen look, added, "Sorry."
"We must try again!" the hermit announced. "You must try harder! Simply believe that it will happen, and it will! This time we'll pray in tongues!"
Beaufils leaped up on Clover's back. He had no idea what Brother Denys meant to do with his tongue, but Beaufils had had enough. "No, thank you," he said hastily. "The thing is, we're really looking for this Grail, and if you haven't seen one about, we should be moving on."
"I see what it is," Brother Denys said sternly. "Your heart is hardened!"
"Bad luck for me, I guess," Beaufils said, edging Clover away from the hermit. When he was well clear, he tapped the mule with his heel and trotted across the clearing to the place where the trail picked up again. A minute later Gawain and Ellyn joined him. Both were shaking with laughter. "You have to admit," Beaufils said, "that was a different sort of holiness than Father Rolbert's."
They continued on through the Sacred Forest, hard riding all the way. The trail was still so narrow that they had to move single file between the close trees and shrubbery. So thick was the undergrowth that Beaufils, still in the front position, didn't see the next clearing until it was a few yards ahead of him, which gave him no time to slow Clover's trot. The three companions burst from the trees into the clearing, almost at the same moment, and a black-robed man jumped up from a tree stump. "Is it you?" he shrieked.
Beaufils glanced uncertainly at the others, but they seemed as confused as he was, so he said, "I don't know about the others, but I'm certainly me, if that's what you mean."
"Are you the Four Horsemen?" the man shrieked. He pronounced his words oddly, rolling his "r" sounds in the back of his throat. Again the companions exchanged glances. Finally Ellyn said, "I don't think so, sir. You see, I'm not a horseman."
"And Glover here isn't a horse," Beaufils added.
"Plus, there are only three of us," said Gawain. "Besides that, you're pretty close, though."
The man in black seemed to relax. "Who are you then?" he demanded.
Gawain said, "I am Sir Gawain, and I am on quest with Lady Ellyn and Le Beau Desconus here. We are seeking a miraculous object called the Holy Grail."
"Le Beau Desconus?" the man said in his oddly accented speech. "The Beautiful Unknown?"
"Yes, actually," Gawain said. "You're French?"
"Yes. I am the Père d'Arbé, come to this place to await the coming millennium in prayer and penance."
"Millennium?" Beaufils asked. "What's that?"
Gawain winced and waved his hand sharply back and forth, clearly trying to stop Beaufils from asking, but it was too late. The Père d'Arbé's eyes lit up, and he said, "It is the Thousand Year Reign that will follow the time of Great Tribulation and precede the End of All Things!"
"Oh," Beaufils said politely. "Thank you. I just hadn't heard—"
"And the time is near!" the Père d'Arbé went on. "I've just finished a chart, and when I looked at my calculations, I couldn't believe what I was seeing! Within this month, twice seventy weeks of years from Daniel's vision of Jeremiah's prophecy, the Beast will arise!"
"We'll keep our eyes open for it," Gawain said. "Look, we don't want to disturb you, but—"
"I had calculated the dates before," the hermit said, "but I had forgotten that in the time of John the Divine, years had only three hundred and sixty days. That's why I was mistaken six months ago. I admit that I was wrong. But this time, I'm certain!"
Gawain continued doggedly. "I'm sure you have other calculations to make, so we'll be leaving you now."
"Aren't we going to ask about the Grail?" Beaufils asked, surprised.
"Grail?" the Père d'Arbé asked. "What's that?"
Gawain waved his hand again but Beaufils said, "It's this platter, or bowl, that we're looking for. It appeared at King Arthur's court, floating up in the air—"
Beaufils got no further. The Père d'Arbé let out a shriek and said, "The cups of wrath, filled with the last seven plagues! They've begun! And at King Arthur's court, too! So I was right! Arthur is the Beast from the Sea! It's Arthur!"
"Before you go any further," Gawain said, interrupting the hermit, "you ought to know that I am Arthur's nephew."
"Then you are the Second Beast!" the man said. "Begone! I am one of the Two Faithful Witnesses, and you cannot hurt me!"
The Père d'Arbé backed up against his hut, his limbs shaking. Gawain looked at him, the anger in his face slowly fading to pity, then jerked his head back to the forest. "Come on, let's go," he said. When the three friends were back among the trees, Gawain stopped and looked back at Beaufils. "I tried to warn you, lad."
"What was wrong with him?" Beaufils asked.
"Nothing we can help him with," Gawain replied. "I've met some of these birds before. There's a rule to follow here: If you ever hear anyone say the word millennium, don't ask them to explain what they mean." He sighed and added, "I'm starting to get tired of the Sacred Forest: isolated little huts, isolated holy men, and narrow little paths."
"What would happen if we left the path?" Beaufils mused aloud.
Gawain, who was leading again, stopped and looked over his shoulder at Beaufils. "I'd almost be willing to try it," he said.
"Why don't we?" asked Ellyn.
"Look how thick the shrubbery beside the path is," Gawain said. "If the whole forest is like this, we'll never get through."
"All right," Beaufils said. "It was just a thought. Let's stay on the path and ride on to the next hermit."
Gawain looked at him in silence, then began to laugh. "Touché, Le Beau. Off the path we go. You lead the way again, but don't go through too many tight squeezes. Remember that my horse is bigger than your mule."
Beaufils dismounted, took Clover's head, then plunged at once into the thickest part of the underbrush. For several minutes, he bent back twigs and pushed aside leafy fronds, unable to see more than a few feet ahead. Behind him he heard Ellyn and Gawain crashing in his steps. Suddenly he was out of the thickets in an open, sun-dappled forest. Tall pines stood around, but all at least twenty feet apart. The delicious smell of the trees filled his senses, and a springy bed of pine needles softened his footsteps. It was as if he had stepped out of a world of noise and into one of silence. Even the sound of Ellyn and Gawain thrashing through brush behind him seemed far away.
Then even their noise stopped. There was silence for a moment, broken at last by Gawain's reverent whisper. Glory.
Beaufils grinned and clambered up onto Clover. "Let's go this way," he said.
After half an hour of blissfully peaceful riding, they came to the edge of the forest and to their last hermit. Because the forest was so open in this area, they saw the hermit's cottage well before they came to it—a simple, homely hut where a man in a brown robe was feeding a few goats in the front yard. Gawain halted his horse.
"Do we want to visit another one of these fellows?" he asked.
Ellyn hesitated. "I have to admit," she said, "I feel as if I've had all the holiness I can manage for a day. Do you think this one's like the others?"
Beaufils watched the man feed the goats for a moment, then said, "This one's already different from the others; he's taking care of someone else." Beaufils smiled and said, "Let's go look at the goats."
As they approached, Beaufils saw that this man was quite old. He didn't have much hair, but what he had was pure white, and the lines on his face seemed very deep, as if they had been carved in stone. But when the three riders approached, the hermit smiled genially. "Good evening," he said. "You must be Sir Gawain and Lady Ellyn. And you"—he looked more closely at Beaufils—"must be the Fair Unknown."
"How did you know?" Beaufils asked, returning the hermit's smile.
"A friend told me to look for you," the hermit said. "I am Basil, the Hermit of the Forest's Edge."
"Not Brother Basil or Father Basil?" Beaufils asked.
"Not unless it really matters to you," the hermit replied. "I spend most of my time with the goats, and they don't care much about titles. Would you like some bread and milk?"
The travelers agreed, and dismounted. They cared for their mounts while Basil prepared a simple meal of brown bread, strawberries, and goat's milk to eat around an open fire in the yard. It seemed like a feast to Beaufils, and he ate with simple pleasure and gratitude, though he noticed that Gawain and Ellyn didn't seem thirsty. Basil said little at first, concerning himself only with his guests' needs, but after they had eaten, he asked, "And where have you been traveling today? In the Sacred Forest?"
"Is it only one day?" Gawain asked. "It seems much longer."
"How many hermits live in that forest anyway?" Ellyn asked.
"Heaven only knows," Basil replied. "They go on for as long as the path continues. Did you enjoy meeting my fellow hermits?"
Gawain snorted, Ellyn rolled her eyes, and Beaufils replied, "They haven't been very helpful. Are you really a hermit too? You don't seem much like them."
"Yes, I'm really a hermit, too," Basil replied. "There's more goat's milk if anyone wants it."
Gawain and Ellyn quickly covered the tops of their cups, but Beaufils said thank you and took some more. "Then if we had just stayed on the path," he said, "we would have come to you eventually, right?"
"No," Basil replied. "There is one way in which I'm different from the others. To find me, you have to leave the path."
"Then I wish we'd just gone around the forest and skipped the path entirely," muttered Gawain.
"There's no way around it either," the hermit said.
"Sir," Gawain said suddenly, "may I ask a question?"
"You may ask anything, Sir Gawain."
"You said that a friend told you we would be coming this way. Who was this friend, and how did he know?"
"Was it a vision?" asked Ellyn.
"Oh, no," Basil replied, chuckling to himself. "I don't see visions myself. You'll have to leave that to some of my fellow hermits. Did you meet Brother Denys? He could see a vision for you."
"Did you cry for him? I hope so." Beaufils shook his head, and Basil sighed. "Poor Denys. He feels awful when his visitors don't cry. No, my friend is as real as you are, but I couldn't say how he knew you'd be along. I'm only a simple man; I don't understand how Scotus knows what he knows. But I've learned to trust him."
"Scotus?" Gawain repeated.
"That's the enchanter who cursed my father," Ellyn said indignantly.
Basil nodded. "Yes, Lady Ellyn," Basil said. "I don't understand that either, but I was glad to hear that your father is better now." He glanced up at the darkening sky and said, "Forgive me for leaving you, but it is time for evening prayers. Excuse me."
While the hermit said his prayers, the three friends decided that they would stay the night with Basil—"Even if it means we have to drink more goat's milk tomorrow," Gawain said—and then leave the forest and head north again. By the time Basil returned, Ellyn had already rolled up in her blankets and gone to sleep. Gawain was getting his bed ready, but when Basil appeared, the knight addressed him.
"Excuse me, sir," he said, "I forgot to ask earlier. We're looking for something called the Holy Grail. I don't suppose you've heard of it, have you?"
"Yes, Sir Gawain. I know the Grail," Basil said.
"Oh," Gawain said, surprised. "That's helpful. Can you tell us where to find it?"
"Oh, dear me, Sir Gawain, you will never find the Grail," Basil said.
"What?"
"Didn't you know? The Grail is someone else's quest. The best you can do this time is to help others along, the way you've been helping Le Beau Desconus and Lady Ellyn."
Gawain took a moment to digest this, but he didn't seem to be disappointed. "Very well," he said at last, "and in which direction shall I help them tomorrow?"
"Oh, they don't need you now," Basil said. "Good night, Sir Gawain."
Basil went inside his hermitage, leaving Gawain standing uncertainly by the fire. At last he said, "I guess I can ask him in the morning what that means. You going to bed, Le Beau?"
"In a while," Beaufils said. Though his muscles were weary, he was oddly wakeful. Gawain went to his blankets and almost at once was breathing the deep, calm breaths of sleep.
"Gawain is a good man," said a voice at Beaufils's elbow. "I'm glad you've had a chance to travel with him."
Beaufils smiled, recognizing Scotus's voice. "Yes," he said.
"How have you found your journeying?" Scotus asked.
"I enjoy meeting new people," Beaufils replied simply. "Even people who don't seem to enjoy meeting me."
"That's a very good way to approach a quest."
"Am I on a quest?" Beaufils asked.
"Aren't you?"
"I suppose I am. This thing about the Grail. But I didn't say I would come because I wanted to find the Grail; I just thought it would be nice to ride with Galahad some more. Then Galahad went off, so I came with Gawain." Beaufils frowned, thinking, then said, "The Grail isn't really my quest, I think."
"Then do you have another quest?"
Beaufils thought about this. "Well, there's the thing about looking for my father, as my mother said to do. But if that's what I'm doing, then should I be out here hunting the Grail with Gawain?"
"Your father's as likely to be here as anywhere else, isn't he?" asked Scotus.
"I suppose," Beaufils said, but he was still troubled.
"Don't worry, son," Scotus said. "I've come to help. You've done all you can for Gawain, getting him through the forest, and now he has to go off alone. You're to go with Ellyn now for a while." Then Scotus was gone.