IV. The Wooing of Lady Laudine

Luneta sat up, rubbed her eyes with her hands, and said, "I beg your pardon?"

"I'm in love," Ywain said. "As soon as I saw her, I knew. At first I thought I was dreaming, because so much beauty could hardly be real, but then I heard her crying, and I knew that all my dreams had come true. Pray, why was she crying?"

Luneta stared at him, then answered slowly, "That would be because her husband just died."

"The poor thing!" Ywain said. Then he brightened. "Then ... she's not married?"

"Not currently, no," Luneta said dryly.

Ywain closed his eyes rapturously. "I stood by her bed for hours, watching her sleep, longing to take her in my arms."

"You didn't, did you?" Luneta demanded quickly. She was suddenly glad that she hadn't bothered removing Lady Laudine's dress before putting her in bed.

"No," Ywain replied. "I may have been lost in a dream, but I had enough of my wits to realize that it might be uncomfortable for her to wake up in the arms of an invisible man."

"Good thinking," Luneta replied.

"So her husband died," Ywain said tenderly. "From her tears, I see that she loved her husband very much."

Luneta didn't answer. She was still wondering about that herself.

"How did he die?" Ywain asked.

For someone who wasn't at all stupid, Ywain could say some very dense things. Luneta took a breath, then said bluntly, "You killed him."

Ywain's eyes grew still, and Luneta watched as comprehension, then despair, flickered across his countenance. "Of course," he said. "That was your Lady Laudine."

Luneta rose from her bed, pulling a gown over her underdress and averting her eyes from her cousin to give him a moment to compose himself. "I'm sorry," she said at last, "but, as you see, you've fallen in love with the one woman who can never love you back."

"It doesn't change anything," Ywain said. "I still love her and always will."

"Ywain—"

"But why shouldn't she love me one day?" he demanded suddenly. "I didn't do anything dishonorable. Her husband attacked me, and I fought back."

Luneta decided not to point out that he had incited the attack to start with. Neither was it the time to suggest that it didn't matter a great deal to Lady Laudine whether Ywain had killed Sir Esclados honorably or dishonorably. Arguing would accomplish nothing, and her mind was bent on a different task: persuading Ywain to leave the castle.

"Perhaps you're right," Luneta said. "In time, once she is over the shock and grief, she may be interested in marrying again. What you should do is leave now, and wait for her to finish her bereavement. Then you could come back, you know, to visit me, your cousin, and I could introduce you. How does that sound?"

"I can't leave the woman I love while she's in such distress."

"Distress that you caused, Ywain!"

"All the more reason that I should stay."

"And do what? Look, Ywain, your hands are tied. If you show yourself, you'll be killed by the guards, and if you stay invisible, you can't do anything for her. As you yourself said, she might not find an invisible knight comforting. In fact," Luneta added, with a flash of inspiration, "if you touch her or make any sound or do anything at all while you're invisible, she'll probably think it's her husband's ghost, which might drive her completely mad. You don't want that, do you?"

Ywain pursed his lips thoughtfully.

"So you see: the only thing for you to do is to go away for a while. You can come back later, when she will be more willing to receive visitors. And besides, once you're away, you might decide that you don't love her as much as you thought."

Luneta knew this last statement was a mistake as soon as she said it. Ywain's face tightened, then set in a mulish expression, then disappeared along with the rest of him as he put Lady Laudine's ring back on. From the empty space, his voice said firmly, "I will not change, and I will not leave." Then Luneta's door opened and closed.

Luneta was thoroughly disgusted with Ywain, but even more with herself. She felt sure that until her ill-judged suggestion that his love might fade, Ywain had been about to yield to her persuasion, and she had no one to blame but herself. Her frustration was not helped by Rhience's response upon being told the new state of affairs.

"You're joking," he said, his eyes widening and his lips parting in a huge smile. "The poor sod's gone and fallen in love with her?"

"It isn't funny, Rhience," Luneta said sternly.

"Then I don't know what is funny! Come, Luneta, it's a rollicking farce!"

"Maybe to you, but it's madness for Ywain. As long as he stays here, he's in danger. You don't think that dreadful Malvolus will stop looking for him, do you?"

Rhience's smile faded slightly. "Unlikely," he said. "I've been checking the doors and gates, and Sir Stiffus Rumpus has guards at every one, night and day. It was going to be hard enough to get Ywain out when he wanted to leave. As it is, I don't see what else to do but wait and hope that Ywain stays out from underfoot."

Luneta had to be satisfied with this, and before long she had little time to worry about Ywain anyway. Lady Laudine awoke and, spurning the comfort of all her elegant ladies-in-waiting, she sent for Luneta to hold her hand as she wept for her husband. All that long day, Lady Laudine cried and refused to eat and sniffed at a vinaigrette and told Luneta her memories of Sir Esclados.

"I always knew that I was safe with dear Esclados," she said as they sat together in her room that evening. "You're too young to realize it yourself, but it's such a comfort to belong to a man who will care for you. I never had to worry about anything once we were wed. But now I ... now I..."

Luneta had already learned to recognize the signs of an impending gust of tears, and when Lady Laudine trailed off, Luneta handed her a clean handkerchief. Lady Laudine wiped her eyes and sniffed into the cloth for a moment, then continued, "And he was so caring, so tender, so concerned for my comfort." Luneta couldn't help frowning at this, but she said nothing. Lady Laudine sighed deeply and said, "In all our time together, I never had a harsh word from him."

It was all Luneta could do not to point out that she'd met Sir Esclados only once, for a few minutes, and she had heard several harsh words from him, but with an effort she kept even this observation to herself. Instead she tried to change the subject. "How ... how did the two of you meet?"

Lady Laudine smiled tearfully. "I loved him as soon as I saw him," she said. "And he me. It was just like a French minstrel's romance! He invited my parents and me for a visit—he had some business with my father—and at dinner I could hardly keep my eyes from him. He was so strong, so manly. I was no child—indeed, I was nearly an old maid, being quite twenty years old—but whenever he looked at me, I'm afraid that I blushed like a little girl fresh out of the nursery." She sighed again. "He was my first love."

Luneta blinked with surprise. It seemed very odd to her to find that Lady Laudine had been twenty years old and still unmarried. Luneta knew of girls who had been married at fourteen, or even younger. "Your first love?" Luneta asked. "But with your beauty, you must have had dozens of young men at your feet."

Lady Laudine shook her head. "Indeed I did not. But I admit that I was an awkward girl and not very attractive when I was younger."

"Why then, you improved remarkably," Luneta said. "For I don't believe I've ever seen a more beautiful woman than you." Luneta didn't enjoy saying this, feeling that this was not the time to talk about superficial things, but she had already discovered that the subject of Laudine's personal appearance was one of the few things that could distract Lady Laudine from her grief. It worked, and Lady Laudine brightened perceptibly and, for a time, abandoned her imaginary memories of her kind husband.

Luneta thought periodically about Ywain, wondering if he were perhaps looking over her shoulder or standing in a corner listening, but she heard no sound and saw no sign of him. Neither did the steward, Malvolus, who continued his vengeful search for his master's killer for three full days. On the second day, a guard discovered Ywain's armor under a pile of straw in the stables, and for several days the steward went about staring suspiciously at all the men of the castle, imagining that his master's slayer was still in the castle in disguise. He was especially suspicious of Rhience, and if the fool hadn't been with Lady Laudine at the time that Sir Esclados left the castle, he would have been locked up without hesitation. Malvolus grew more dictatorial daily, but the one time that Luneta brought up the matter to Lady Laudine, suggesting that now that she was sole mistress of the castle she could get rid of her husband's steward, Lady Laudine dissolved in tears and begged Luneta, "Please, don't ask me to think of such things now! You can't understand how comforting it is for me to know that Malvolus is running the castle just as my dear husband would want."

Only when Lady Laudine was asleep did Luneta have any time to herself, and at these times she usually sought out Rhience. On the evening of the second day after Sir Esclados's death, she found him reading in the sitting room where Lady Laudine had first received them, and sank exhaustedly into a chair beside him. "Any sign of my cousin?" she asked.

"Maybe," Rhience said. "I heard a kitchen maid complaining about some missing food. She had just set it down for a moment, and then it was gone."

"He's not starving, anyway," Luneta said. She closed her eyes wearily.

"Have you put your child down for the night?" Rhience asked.

Luneta allowed one side of her mouth to smile, and she replied without opening her eyes. "If you mean Laudine, yes. And if I don't go back to my own room, then maybe no one will be able to find me to fetch me to her when she rings her bell rope."

"Is it so bad?"

Luneta shrugged. "I try to remind myself that she really is suffering. Her husband died just two days ago, and that would be a shock for anyone. And I must admit, she seems to have really loved her husband."

"Is that what you think?"

Luneta opened her eyes at this. "What else would explain all this moping around and crying all over the castle? Anyway, she told me so. It was love at first sight for both of them. Her father was visiting him on business, and they met at dinner and fell in love at once."

Rhience began to shake with laughter. "She told you that?"

"Yes."

"Did she, by any chance, tell you what the business was that Sir Esclados had with her father?"

"No. I doubt she even knew. She doesn't seem much interested in business."

"She'd have been interested in this. Their business was to arrange her dowry."

"What?"

"No joke, Luneta. Sir Esclados and Lady Laudine's father had this marriage all arranged before they even met."

Luneta stared at Rhience for a moment, then shrugged again. "I suppose you had this from the servants, and they usually know, but it doesn't mean that they didn't fall in love."

"Did you see any sign of love at dinner the night Sir Esclados died?"

Luneta shook her head. "No, I didn't. He didn't look as if he cared for her much, and as for her, she was terrified of him. In fact, when she first started talking about how much they loved each other, and how gentle and considerate he was, I could hardly believe she meant the same fellow I met, but I can't deny that she's pretty desperately broken up by his death."

"Maybe he's easier to love dead than he was alive," Rhience commented. "I've known people like that." He looked thoughtful for a moment, then added, "In fact, I know some people I'd be willing to try it on. Take Malvolus, for instance. I find him very difficult to love just now, but I'm willing to give it a try, even if it means that I have to kill him first."

"Yes, I know," Luneta said, grinning ruefully. "A real piece of rotten fruit, isn't he? I tried to persuade Laudine to turn him out, but she won't hear of it. She says he's a comfort."

Rhience shook his head sadly. "She's quite mad. Malvolus a comfort?"

Luneta nodded. "But then, she also says that she never heard Sir Esclados utter a harsh word."

Rhience whistled softly. "Let's hope she recovers her wits after the funeral tomorrow."

Sir Esclados's funeral did not seem to help Laudine, though. The service itself took almost three hours, mostly because it was interrupted so often. No fewer than four times the priest had to halt the proceedings until Laudine had finished a hysterical outburst. At one point, she even had to be restrained from throwing herself on her husband's body, and Luneta came very near to slapping her hostess. Naturally, most of the people in the county were at the funeral of their feudal lord, and from the rapt expressions on their faces, Luneta could tell that they were enjoying the spectacle of Laudine's displays very much indeed. It angered Luneta that Laudine should be so oblivious of others, but grabbing her and shaking some sense into her would hardly help matters, so Luneta contented herself with holding her chin high and pretending to ignore everything except the Latin service that the harried-looking priest kept trying to complete.

When it was over and Laudine had gone to lie down, Luneta sought out Rhience to unburden herself, but when she found him, he refused to enter into her disgust.

"I think it was a splendid service," he announced, interrupting her furious tirade. "Marvelous!"

"You're mad! With all that shrieking and wailing? I daresay half the people forgot Sir Esclados was even there."

"Exactly! I cannot sufficiently describe my admiration for her."

"For Laudine?"

"Of course! As a performer myself, I—"

"Oh, shut up!" Luneta snapped.

"Never have I seen someone rise to an occasion as she did. Why, the audience was spellbound!"

"Yes, if it had been her intention to put on a show." Rhience only raised one eyebrow, and Luneta said, "I think I know Laudine better than you do, and I'm sure she had no such idea in her mind."

"Or any other, for that matter," Rhience contributed.

"Look, Laudine may not be the cleverest—"

"I think she's adorable."

Luneta stared at Rhience for a moment before it occurred to her that his lips had not moved. Rhience glanced around, then grinned and said, "How nice to hear from you, Ywain. So sorry I didn't greet you properly when you came in—unless you were here before me, of course."

"Poor Lady Laudine," Ywain's voice said. "She's so frail, so tender."

"But she has stamina," Rhience pointed out. "You have to give her that. Why, she must have cried for—"

"How much I longed to take her under my arm and comfort her. She needs someone to protect her."

"Look, Ywain," Rhience said suddenly. "I don't suppose you could take off the ring while we talk, could you? It's a bit disconcerting having a conversation with the air."

A moment later, Ywain appeared. He was wearing a sober suit of black velvet.

"You're wearing mourning?" Rhience asked.

"But of course," Ywain replied. "The woman I love is grieving. How could it be otherwise?"

"Even though you're the one who brought about her grief?" Luneta asked.

"It's not as if anyone will see you," Rhience added. "Where'd you get the black suit anyway?"

"Sir Esclados's things, of course. We're nearly the same size."

"This is getting strange," Rhience complained.

"Well, I couldn't keep wearing my armor. It clinks when I walk. And you wouldn't expect me to run around naked, would you?"

"Why not? You're invisible."

"It's cold," Ywain replied practically. "That's why not."

Luneta broke in impatiently. "I don't care where you got your clothes. The important thing is that we've found you again and can get you out of the castle."

"But I told you. I don't want to leave."

Luneta ignored him. "Rhience, do you know where they've put Ywain's armor?"

"Sure. It's in Malvolus's rooms."

"It doesn't matter," Ywain said. "I'm not leaving."

"Look, Ywain, you saw how grief-stricken Laudine was at the funeral. Can't you see how hopeless it is for you to stay? She'll never consider marrying again."

"She doesn't mourn for Sir Esclados," Ywain said simply.

"She doesn't? What do you call all that at the funeral?"

"She's frightened," Ywain said with confidence. "I've been watching her."

"You have, have you?" Luneta said suspiciously.

"Not when she's dressing or anything like that, if that's what you're thinking," Ywain said. "What sort of a cad do you think I am, taking advantage of her own ring to spy on her?" Luneta looked away, conscious of a sense of relief. She had wondered, when helping Laudine to undress, if Ywain were in the room. Ywain continued, "She doesn't act like someone who's lost a loved one. She's only afraid of what's going to happen to her now."

"Are you telling me that all that ghastly display at the funeral was fear?" Luneta demanded impatiently.

"Yes."

Then, to Luneta's surprise, Rhience came to Ywain's support. "Much as I hate to agree with our friend here, he's partly right. I too think that most of our lady's tears come from self-pity."

"Not self-pity. Fear for her future."

"As you wish," Rhience said agreeably. "That doesn't change the fact that you're wasting your time here. You can't show yourself, and you can't court the lady while you're invisible."

"That's why I came to find you."

"Why?" Luneta asked.

"Well, I couldn't help but notice that you've become her chief companion," Ywain said. "She trusts you."

"And?" Luneta asked.

"Do you think you could put in a good word for me?"

Luneta and Rhience looked at each other. "He's mad," she said.

"Insanus," Rhience said, nodding agreement.

Ywain shrugged. "Thought it wouldn't hurt to ask," he said. Then he was gone.

Laudine continued to live a life of ostentatious mourning, and Luneta continued to play the role of chief comforter, but she couldn't help remembering what Ywain and Rhience had said and wondering if they were right. Gould all this excessive display of grief be prompted by fear (or, as Rhience would have it, self-pity)? Luneta began to notice that Laudine's most frequently expressed sentiment was "What's going to happen to me now?" Luneta adjusted her words of comfort accordingly, stressing how loyal the castle servants were to her and how well they would take care of her. These assurances seemed to help, but not a great deal. Finally, one day, Luneta asked Rhience to see if he could help her. He arrived escorted by two manservants, but Laudine gave him one glance and turned away.

"No," she said faintly. "Take the fool away."

Rhience turned to the two men. "Do you hear her? Take the lady away."

The men looked hesitantly at each other, and Laudine said, "I suppose you mean that I'm a fool, but if that's the best you can do, I'm afraid that your wit has dried up."

"Very true, my lady," Rhience replied at once. "But that's easy enough to fix." He looked at the servants again. "Ale, my good men. That's what we need."

"Please go away," Laudine said. "This is no time for foolishness."

"Exactly what I say, my lady. It is time to put away foolishness."

Laudine looked out the window, and Luneta said to Rhience, "This is your idea of cheering her up? Calling her a fool?"

"Do you think I'm joking? Come, let us see which one is the fool. But I shall have to catechize you. I shall ask, and you answer." Laudine didn't speak, but she hesitated, and that was enough for Rhience. "Tell me, my lady, why do you mourn?"

"I mourn for my dead husband, fool."

"Ah, yes. And this is because his soul is in hell, is it not?"

Laudine looked up sharply. "What?"

"I think Sir Esclados is in hell."

"I know his soul is in heaven, fool!"

"Why, if that's so, then the more fool are you to mourn for him. Take away the fool, gentlemen."

Laudine's perfect face contracted in an angry scowl, and Luneta quickly guided Rhience to the door. "Do you know, Rhience, I'm not sure that this was such a good idea."

"She stopped crying, didn't she?"

"And you think angry is better?"

"It's a change, anyway," Rhience pointed out. "Variety's good, isn't it?"

By this time Luneta had Rhience and the servants out the door. She said, "I'm about to find out, I think."

As she closed the door between them, she heard Rhience saying to the gentlemen, "Now, about that ale. You heard your mistress say I was dry, didn't you?"

Luneta turned slowly back to face Laudine, an apology on her lips, but Laudine's face no longer looked angry but rather was thoughtful. "Luneta?"

"Yes, my lady?"

"Do you think I mourn too much?"

Luneta stared at the stone floor between them. "I cannot say, my lady."

"It's just that ... I'm so afraid." Luneta looked up quickly and for a moment saw the most genuine expression she had ever seen on Laudine's face. She looked like a little girl.

"For years, I was sure I would spend my life alone. My father was not wealthy, and no one wanted to marry me. By the time Sir Esclados came into my life, I was at my last prayers."

This was unfathomable to Luneta. Laudine was impossibly beautiful. How could no one have wanted to marry her? Ywain had fallen in love with her at one look, hadn't he? But Luneta held her tongue, and Laudine continued.

"My father was old, and he had no sons. When he died, my cousin would inherit our home, and then I would have nothing. Then my father grew ill. I came back to his bedside."

"Came back?" Luneta asked.

Laudine faltered. "I had been away, visiting ... visiting some ladies. Like you are visiting me. That was where I met your mother, in fact. But I had to leave early because of my father's illness. Then, from nowhere, Sir Esclados invited us to visit and asked for my hand, and all my fears were taken away." Laudine twisted a handkerchief in her hands. "I know you think ... thought ... that he was too old for me. But that didn't bother me. Really, it didn't. He was a great knight, and with him I was safe at last. Even when my father died, I knew I would be cared for. And now ... now I don't know what will happen."

Laudine began to cry, but with quiet, heartfelt sobs instead of the dramatic keening and wailing of the past week. Luneta's throat tightened, and she repented of all the irritation she had felt toward her hostess. "Laudine?" she asked tentatively. "What if ... what if you were to remarry?"

Laudine looked up, her eyes bright with tears. "How could I? I have ... I have thought of it, but it's impossible. Remember the magic of the Storm Stone? I'm now the mistress of this castle, and I must remain here until I wither away, an old maid."

"Don't do it," Rhience said. They were alone in the sitting room that evening. "Don't get involved."

"But Ywain is right. She needs someone to take care of her."

"Let her learn to take care of herself. Look, if you'd been married to Sir Esclados and he died, would you be in a big rush to find someone else to take his place?"

"It's a pointless question," Luneta replied promptly, "because I never would have married Sir Esclados to begin with."

"That's just the point! She needs to stop asking other people to do everything for her, or she'll end up in the same basket as before."

"Ywain's not like Sir Esclados."

"Don't be deceived, lass. Any man who marries a simpering, helpless ninny like Laudine can end up like Sir Esclados."

"Even you?" Luneta asked.

"It's a pointless question," Rhience replied with a sniff. "Because I wouldn't marry a simpering ninny like that to begin with."

"Perhaps Laudine is a little bit too helpless ... all right, so she is. She's not going to change now. The best thing for her will be to marry again to someone who will love her as Sir Esclados didn't."

"And who are you to decide what's best for Laudine?" Rhience demanded.

"It's not just what I think; it's what she thinks, too. Look, Rhience, I know that she can be irritating and silly, but she has a good heart, and I like her. And when you like someone, you can't just let them suffer when there's something you can do to help."

Rhience shook his head sadly. "I still think it's wrong to meddle, but I'm not going to convince you, am I?"

"No."

He sighed. "My only consolation is that you won't be successful. I know you cherish the illusion that you can get anyone to do anything you want, but remember that Ywain is the man who killed her husband. No one could bring those two together, not even you."

The next morning, when Luneta went to Laudine's room, she took a sword with her. Laudine stared at her. "What are you doing with that sword?"

"I thought that if you were feeling up to it later, I could give you some pointers."

"Somewhat?"

"I've never actually been trained in swordplay myself, but as you know, my uncle is Sir Gawain, one of the greatest knights in England, and I've watched him practicing. I should be able to get you started. Later on, of course, you'll need to spar with some of your soldiers. Do you know if any of them have been trained with the broadsword?"

"I ... no..."

"So many soldiers these days are taught only how to use the pike and the longbow."

"What are you talking about, Luneta?"

"Pikes and longbows. Pikes are these long spears—"

"But why? I have no interest in weapons."

Luneta looked thoughtful. "Hmm. That makes it harder." Then she shrugged. "But it doesn't change anything, does it? You'll just have to develop an interest."

"But why? Why would I ever want to know about weapons?"

Luneta stared at her with exaggerated astonishment. "Don't tell me it hasn't occurred to you!"

"What hasn't occurred to me?"

"What will happen when the next person disturbs the Storm Stone, of course!" Laudine's face went blank, and Luneta pressed on ruthlessly. "You told me yourself that you're now the mistress of this castle. Well, aren't you bound by oath and custom and magic to defend the land against those who disturb that stone? Here, let me show you how to hold the sword."

"Luneta! You don't mean that you think ... but I can't defend the stone!"

"Not if you won't learn how to hold a sword. Now, are you right- or left-handed?"

"No! I'll send one of the soldiers out if something happens."

Luneta shook her head sadly. "If that were possible, don't you think that Sir Esclados would have done it? No, it's got to be you."

"It can't be!"

"But it is. There's no point in arguing about it. You may not know this, but my father is also the king's sheriff in Orkney, and so I know something about the law. If there's no heir, then the rights and duties—this is what you would call a duty—pass to the widow."

Laudine began to cry, but Luneta set her jaw against her welling sympathy and said, "Come on, Laudine. Maybe it won't be so bad. For all you know, the next knight who comes along may be a bad swordsman."

"It's impossible! I can't do it!"

Luneta sighed. "It seems as if everything is impossible to you. Just yesterday you told me it was impossible for you to marry again." She broke off and added thoughtfully, "Of course, if you did that, we could avoid all this, couldn't we? Oh, well, never mind. Perhaps it's too soon to begin with the sword. I'll put it away for now. We'll start sparring tomorrow."

Luneta left, well satisfied with the morning's work. She took care to stay out of Laudine's room for the rest of the day, leaving her to her own reflections, and the next morning when she went back she found her hostess looking very hollow-eyed and sober. "Why, good morning, Laudine! My goodness, you don't look at all comfortable! Are you ill?"

Laudine looked up quickly at Luneta's voice. "Oh, Luneta! Where have you been? I've so needed to talk with you."

"Shall I fetch a doctor?"

"No, no, I'm not ill. I just haven't slept all night," Laudine said. "I've been thinking about what you said."

"Then you're ready to begin studying the broadsword?"

"No, not that," Laudine said hurriedly. "I was thinking about what you said ... about my marrying again."

"But you said that was impossible."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Is it really impossible?"

"I shouldn't think so, but you seemed so certain."

"Oh, I can't believe I'm thinking these thoughts!" Laudine wailed. "My husband is barely a week in his grave!"

"You're afraid of what people will think?" Luneta asked. Laudine looked down but nodded. "But that needn't be! I'm sure that everyone who lives near the castle knows how things stand with that Storm Stone. They will know that you're marrying in order to protect them. I would imagine that they'll all cheer when they hear you're engaged."

"Won't they ... wouldn't they think me fickle?"

"What, after seeing you at the funeral? Don't be silly. No one will think that your feelings are shallow after that! Everyone knows how much you loved Sir Esclados."

"But then what will they think?"

"What should they think but the truth? That you've made a marriage of convenience, out of duty to your people. Who will think ill of you for that? It's really quite a common arrangement, you know. Why, I've known such cases myself."

Laudine blushed self-consciously, and Luneta knew then that Laudine had never held any real affection for Sir Esclados. All that talk about love at first sight and all her ghastly excess at the funeral had been for form's sake. She had been behaving as she thought she was supposed to behave—or, rather, as the French minstrels who sang syrupy love songs thought she was supposed to behave. Luneta said, with an air of decision, "No, I don't think you need concern yourself with what others will think. Provided you marry someone who is able to protect the land against the storms, you'll probably be regarded as a public benefactor."

"But that's the thing," Laudine said immediately. "Wherever will I find someone like that, cloistered away in this castle as I am?"

"Hmm. It's a puzzle, isn't it?" Luneta said pensively. "I don't suppose you'd be interested in marrying one of your own soldiers, would you? There's one very powerful-looking sergeant who seems as if he'd be a fierce fighter. Maybe you know the one I mean. I don't know his name, exactly, but his soldiers call him the 'Ape of Araby.'"

"The what?"

"The 'Ape of Araby.' He seems most formidable to me."

"Why do they call him that?"

"I'm sure I don't know why soldiers give their little names for each other," Luneta said primly. "And besides, I imagine that once he's married he'll shave more often. And bathe sometimes."

"No!"

"No, perhaps you're right. How about the Captain of the Guard—Regivald or something like that. He's not half so niffy as the Ape of Araby, and in his day he was probably quite as good with his weapons. I wonder, Laudine, do you insist on your future husband having all his teeth?"

"Teeth?"

"Never mind. As lord of the castle, he can have someone make him some new ones. Perhaps even dye his hair. Without all that gray, he'll look decades younger!"

"Decades? How old is this fellow?"

"Oh, I couldn't say for certain. He's very well preserved, and besides, there are advantages to marrying an experienced man. They know so many interesting stories about how things were in our grandfathers' days—"

"Stop! I won't hear any more!"

"Well, there's always Malvolus..."

"No!" Laudine shrieked.

"No, you're right. None of these men will do the trick, will they? What we need is a knight, and not just any knight, either. I'll have to think about this some more."

With an air of deep concentration, Luneta turned and left the room, closing the door behind her. When it was latched, she allowed herself a smile.

"I've clearly underestimated you," came Rhience's voice from the shadows by the door.

"Oh, were you listening in? Not very chivalrous of you."

"I refuse to acknowledge a rebuke from someone who's manipulating her friend into a marriage."

Luneta lifted her chin high. "And are you absolutely certain that Ywain and Laudine are ill suited for each other?" Rhience didn't reply. "Tell me so, and I'll stop."

"No, on the surface it seems as if they were made for each other," Rhience admitted. "All I'm saying is that if they get together, they should do it without your help."

Luneta smiled triumphantly and, ignoring this last comment, returned to her room. All was going according to plan.

Laudine looked even more miserable the following morning, and Luneta was more glad than ever that she was doing what she could to help Laudine. When Luneta entered, Laudine looked up with a faint gleam of hope in her eyes. "Have you thought of anything yet?"

Luneta shook her head dejectedly. "I'm afraid not. You see, there are few knights in England who are even close to Sir Esclados in strength and skill, and none of them are available. My uncle Sir Gawain is not interested in marrying, and he's far too old for you anyway. You want a young and handsome knight. Then there's Sir Lancelot, but he doesn't seem interested in romance either, from what I've heard. He lived alone as a hermit for years, you know. He can't be that interested in women. There just aren't many who are as great as Sir Esclados." Luneta smiled wryly, then shrugged and added, "And if it were possible, we would want someone who was actually a better knight than Sir Esclados. After all, Sir Esclados was defeated, wasn't he?"

"But are there any such knights?" Laudine asked despairingly.

Luneta assumed an awestruck expression. "Well, there's one." Then she shook her head sharply and said, "No, no. Forget I said anything. That's impossible!"

"What's impossible?"

"I'm sorry, my lady. I should have remained silent."

"Why? What are you thinking? Tell me! I beg you!"

Luneta sighed. "There is one knight who I know is a greater warrior than Sir Esclados, but it's hopeless. You would never marry him."

"Why not?" Laudine demanded. Then she sat up straight. "Does he have all his teeth?"

"Oh, yes, very toothsome indeed. But my lady, don't tease yourself about this knight."

"No one calls him Ape Boy or anything?"

"Not that I'm aware of," Luneta said cautiously. "He's really quite good-looking, I suppose."

"How old is he? Not a friend of your grandfather's or anything, is he?"

Luneta grinned at this, but only said, "I would think that he's about your own age, my lady."

"So young? Then how could you possibly think that he's a stronger knight than Sir Esclados?"

Luneta smiled hesitantly, watching Laudine. "Because you see, my lady, he was the one who defeated Sir Esclados."

Laudine's face grew still and pale.

"But you mustn't think ill of him, my lady," Luneta said hurriedly. "What was he to do when Sir Esclados attacked him? On his honor, he could do nothing but stand and fight!"

Laudine stared for a moment at the floor, then lifted expressionless eyes to Luneta. "You know this knight?"

Luneta nodded.

"Is he a good man?"

"I believe so, my lady."

"And can you produce him? Where is he?"

"He's ... been in hiding, my lady, not wanting to slay any more of your men."

"Where is he?"

"I don't know, exactly, at least not now, but—"

"I am here, my lady," said Ywain's voice, and then he appeared from the air just behind the chair where Laudine sat. She whirled around, but Ywain was already walking in front of her and kneeling at her feet. "My lady, I beg your forgiveness for causing you such grief. Had I seen you before I fought your husband, I would have permitted him to kill me rather than cause you one second of the pain that you have felt."

"But where have you...?" Laudine began, but then she looked into Ywain's face, and the words died on her lips. Her eyes widened, her lips parted, and her cheeks began to glow.

"I do not know if you can ever forgive me or give me the joy of calling you my own, but whether you do this or not, I must have you know this: I have loved you since the moment I saw you. I love you more now than I did then. I will serve you, honor you, and protect you if you will do me the honor, grant me the joy, of possessing this hand and this heart." Ywain raised Laudine's hand to his lips and kissed it fervently.

Luneta nodded appreciatively. A very pretty speech. Perhaps a little flowery for her own taste, but she could tell that Laudine saw no fault in it.

"My love, my heart, my life, may I call you my own?"

Laudine didn't hesitate. Clearly all her qualms about what others would think had been forgotten. "Yes. Yes. Though I do not even know your name or station. I will marry you though you were the son of a goatherd."

Ywain laughed softly. "I am sorry to disappoint you, but I'm afraid that I'm rather the son of a king. I am Ywain, son of Ywain, grandson of Uriens, King of Scotland."

Laudine's eyes grew round, and for a moment Luneta thought she was actually going to faint, but just at that moment the sky grew dark and a great crash of thunder shook the castle.

"The Storm Stone!" shrieked Laudine.