II

BELREPEIRE AND CAMELOT

"There it is—Belrepeire," the old woman announced, stopping at the top of a small hill. "We've made better time than I'd hoped."

Sarah struggled up the hill and sank gratefully to the ground at the crone's feet, too weary to cast more than a cursory glance at the castle in the valley before her.

"You're not tired, are you?" the old woman asked mockingly. "I was so afraid that I'd slow you down."

Sarah didn't bother to reply. She had long since regretted her self-important words that morning—was it only that morning?—when she had suggested that the old lady should just give her directions and let her go on alone, because Sarah could make better time without having to wait for an old woman. The woman had laughed and said nothing, but from the moment they left Sarah had been scrambling to keep up with the crone's long, mile-eating stride. That whole long day she had walked behind the woman, sometimes having to break into a run just to stay within twenty yards.

"Now," the crone said, after a moment, "let me know when you catch your breath. I have some final instructions for you." Sarah inhaled deeply once, then met the old woman's gaze and nodded. "That's right," the woman said approvingly. "Now, listen. Belrepeire is the home of Sir Parsifal, one of King Arthur's most loyal knights. He will give you a horse and, doubtless, escort you himself to Camelot. You will tell him everything that happened to Kai and the queen, but—listen to this, child—tell no one but Sir Parsifal himself. You must speak with him privately."

"Why don't you tell him? He's more likely to listen to an adult anyway."

"I'm not going with you, child. I have other matters to attend to."

"You're leaving me?"

"Don't worry. Parsifal will take care of you."

"I'm not worried, and I can take care of myself," Sarah replied automatically. "But what if Sir Parsifal won't see me?" It was hard for Sarah to imagine that a great knight would give a private audience to a homeless girl in a ragged cloak arriving alone at his castle.

"Tell him that the sister of the enchantress sent you. He will do whatever you ask."

Sarah's eyes widened. "Your sister is an enchantress?"

"Was an enchantress," the crone replied. "She's dead now, or so we all hope. Do you understand what you must do?" Sarah repeated her instructions, and the old woman nodded. "Very well. Mind that you speak to no one at Belrepeire except Parsifal himself. And at Camelot, tell only the king. No one else. Now, do you have any questions?"

Sarah shook her head. "Thank you," she said suddenly. "I don't know if I'll see you again, but—"

"You'll see me again, princess," the woman said confidently, and then she strode briskly away, heading north.

Sarah gathered her aching legs beneath her and stood, adjusting her sword under her cloak as she rose, then walked down the hill toward the castle. She wished that the old woman had stayed with her long enough to present her to this Sir Parsifal, but she reminded herself that when she had set out on this journey she had expected to go alone to the gates of Camelot itself, and that would have been even harder. As she neared the castle, the great portcullis at the castle gate began to descend. "Wait!" Sarah cried out, breaking into a weary run. "Let me in before you close that!"

The portcullis stopped, and a helmeted head appeared from the front gate, looking around. Catching sight of her, a castle guard stepped out. "Good evening, miss," he said. His gruff, irritable voice belied the civility of his words. "What do you want?"

"I must see Sir Parsifal at once!" Sarah said with as much dignity as she could muster.

"Well, you can't," the guard replied.

"Tell him that I was sent by—"

"It don't make no matter of difference who you was sent by," the guard said. "The master's not here."

"Oh."

The guard turned back to the portcullis chain, saying, "And I can't tell you when he'll be back, neither."

"Why not?" Sarah demanded.

"Don't know." The guard resumed lowering the gate, and on impulse Sarah ran forward and threw herself into the castle just as the metal spikes of the portcullis came down.

"Here now!" came the guard's voice. Sarah scrambled to her feet and whirled to see the guard approaching her, anger in his face. At once she threw back her cloak and drew her sword. It came out quickly and smoothly.

"Stay where you are!" she commanded. She held the sword two-handed, as Sir Kai had shown her, and pointed it at the guard's nose.

He didn't seem frightened. Smiling unpleasantly, the guard stepped back to the gate and took up a long, wicked-looking spear with a thick shaft and a pointed axe at the top. "Now, miss, you wouldn't want to hurt someone with that skinny sword of yours, would you?" He planted the butt of the spear on the ground and leaned on it as a shepherd might lean on his staff. "Would you?" he repeated menacingly.

At the soldier's insolent tone, Sarah boiled inside and her eyes grew hot. Without a word, she swung the sword with all her strength at the spear, just below the man's hands. She intended merely to shake the spear and let the man see that she was serious, but to her surprise the sword cut through the stout shaft as if it were a twig, and the knight, overbalanced, stumbled and fell at her feet, still clutching the top half of the spear. Sarah put the point of her sword at the guard's throat, much as the strange knight had done to Sir Kai only the day before.

"I need a horse," Sarah said. "And I need a sack full of food and a water bag, and—oh, yes—I need directions to Gamelot. Call out now and tell someone to get them ready for me."

The knight didn't seem able to speak, but it wasn't necessary. Other guards must have been watching, and a minute later Sarah was surrounded by armed soldiers, each with a spear pointed at her. She kept the sword at her captive's throat and repeated her demands, but none of the guards moved. Finally, one said to another, "What do we do?"

"Get me what I want!" Sarah replied, irritated.

There was a shuffling pause, and then one of the guards suggested, "Go get the smith's boy?" Another guard nodded and hurried away.

"I don't want a smith's apprentice!" Sarah snapped in exasperation. "I want someone who can make a decision and give me what I need! I'm in a hurry."

But nothing she said could move them, and she began to wonder if she had done the right thing by holding the guard hostage. She had no intention of killing him, of course, both because it was wrong and because she knew that if she did she would have to face the anger of all the others, but now she was committed to her bluff.

Footsteps approached from across the courtyard, and a firm voice called out, "Move aside, men." The guards made way to reveal a tall, muscular young man in a leather apron. "Good evening, my lady," the young man said, sweeping a courtly bow. "I understand you have a, ah, request to make of us. May I help?"

"I have to get to Camelot at once," Sarah said shortly. "I need a horse, provisions, and—"

The young man suddenly stiffened and interrupted her. "How came you by that sword?" he demanded.

"It's mine!" Sarah snapped back.

The young man looked into her eyes. "What has happened to Sir Kai?" he asked softly.

Sarah looked at him wonderingly, but did not answer.

The young man frowned for a moment, then said to the guards, "Leave us. Go back to your quarters at once."

The soldiers backed away, and the guard on the ground, finding a voice, or at any rate a whisper, said hoarsely, "Miss? I'm to go back to my quarters now, if it please you."

Sarah hesitated, then moved her sword point away from the knight's throat. He pushed himself away slowly, then scrambled to his feet and backed away.

"Durnard's been needing a trimming anyway," the smith's boy said lightly, watching the guard. "Altogether too surly, by half. Parsifal's had to remind him several times to speak politely to visitors. Perhaps this will cure him."

"Is Sir Parsifal really away?" Sarah asked.

"He is. Were you seeking him?" the young man replied.

"Yes. The ... I was sent here and told that Sir Parsifal would give me an escort to Camelot. I have to speak to the king."

"Are Sir Kai and the queen all right?" the young man asked. His eyes looked keenly into hers.

"I..." Sarah stopped herself. "What do you mean, sir?"

"Piers. Just call me Piers," the young man answered. "It's your sword, you see. My father made that sword. I sharpened it myself and placed it in Sir Kai's hands just four days ago. If you have it, that can only mean that something has happened to him."

"Sir Kai gave it to me before it happened, though," Sarah said hurriedly.

"Before what happened?" Piers asked.

Sarah swallowed. "I was told not to tell anyone but Sir Parsifal."

"By whom?" he asked.

"The ... the enchantress's sister," Sarah replied.

Piers didn't look as if he knew who this was, but he must have been satisfied, because he said only, "I see. Or rather I don't, but I see you can't tell me. And you need to take your message to Arthur?"

Sarah nodded. "Sir Kai asked me to."

"Can you at least tell me if they are alive?" Piers asked gently.

"They were when I last saw them," Sarah said, after a brief pause. "But Sir Kai is badly hurt."

"We'll leave at once," the young man said. He shouted a summons, and when a servant appeared he gave instructions for two horses and food to be readied and various other preparations to be made. This blacksmith's apprentice appeared to have an uncommon amount of authority in the castle. Other servants appeared and began to scurry about the darkening castle, and a tall lady in a beautiful gown stepped out of the central keep and approached them.

"What is to do, my Piers?" the woman asked.

"This girl has an urgent message for King Arthur, Mother," Piers replied. "We must leave at once."

"But you must do no such thing," the lady replied calmly. She turned to Sarah. "Have you eaten, ma chèrie?"

"Not since this morning," Sarah admitted. "I've been walking since then."

"Come with me," the lady replied.

"Mother—" Piers said.

"You must forgive my son," the lady said to Sarah gently. "Please believe that he was taught manners, but sadly he grows more like his father every day."

"Mother—" Piers said again.

"Pas de raisonnements, Pierre! This girl will most certainly not ride all night with you. You are two days from Camelot, n'est-ce pas? When will you sleep? During the day? Bah! Va t'-en! You will sleep here tonight and leave at daybreak. The lady and I shall dine in my rooms, I believe."

Clearly defeated, Piers swept a bow and said, "It shall be as you wish, Mother."

"But of course it shall be," the lady replied, her eyes dancing. "You must make preparations for the morning now, yes?" And then she swept Sarah into the castle.

Sarah had never been inside a castle before. Riding across England in Mordecai's peddler's wagon, she had seen many, but from the outside they had always seemed fierce and unhospitable places, bristling and spikey like angry boars. Thus it was with some trepidation that she stepped across the stone threshold behind the lady and followed her down the gloomy hallways to the lady's room. Once in the room, though, Sarah was surprised to find an inviting, homey, warmly lit chamber. The dark stone walls were softened by bright tapestries and small lamps glowing in sconces, and a fire in a hearth spread its warmth through the room, right into Sarah's bones. The lady guided Sarah to an upholstered chair before the fire and swept Sarah's old cloak off of her.

"But what a lovely dress, my dear!" the lady said approvingly. "I am Lady Marie, chief lady-in-waiting to Queen Conduiramour, the mistress of this castle. You sit here, and we shall have dinner brought to you directly."

"You're a queen's lady?" Sarah asked with awe. It seemed unspeakably grand to be in the room of a real queen's lady-in-waiting. Of course, just two days before she had eaten a meal with the Queen of All England, but that didn't count, because Sarah hadn't known her name at the time. Another thought came to her. "So that's why Piers acted so important, ordering people around: because his mother is a grand lady."

Tiny dimples appeared on Lady Marie's cheeks, but she only replied, "Who can say why a man thinks he is important? They all do, for one reason or another. It is best to allow them to think so, you know, or they become quite unmanageable." She leaned over Sarah's dress and scrutinized it. "My dear, your dress is of the loveliest, but it has been roughly used, has it not?"

Sarah nodded and colored, suddenly and acutely aware of the mud that caked the hem and the dozens of nicks and tears in the cloth.

"Would you permit me to provide you with a new gown?"

"You are very kind, ma'am," Sarah replied. "But this one ... it was a gift, you see."

"But of course, and a gift fit for a queen it was. Indeed, with a wash and a few stitches it will be as good as new, and quite worthy of comparison with all the most splendid gowns that you will see at King Arthur's court. May I?"

She held out her hand invitingly, and Sarah—struck with the image that Lady Marie had suggested, of dozens of gorgeously clad ladies at Camelot critically examining her clothes—nodded. Together they removed Sarah's dress and underdress, and Sarah had just wrapped herself in a velvet robe that Lady Marie produced for her when Piers arrived, bringing with him a tray piled high with bread and roasted fowl.

"Fie, Piers!" Lady Marie exclaimed. "Do you know no better than to enter a lady's chamber without knocking?"

"I beg your pardon, ma'am," Piers said to Sarah. Then he added, to his mother, "I did not know you would be dressing."

"I am going to wash and mend our friend's gown this evening, so that she shall be convenable at the court."

"She isn't going to a ball, Mother," Piers said mildly. "I see no reason for you to do all that work."

"I am sure, myself, that you do not," Lady Marie replied. "But that does not mean that there is no reason, only that you are not enough clever to see it. Thank you for the food. Now, go away and tell the cook to begin warming water for a bath. I shall send for it within the hour. Go now."

Piers sighed. "I brought the food up myself because I wished to tell you that all is in readiness. I shall come back here at dawn."

"Yes, very well," Lady Marie said. "Take yourself off, now, and don't forget that bath water. Indeed, you would do well to have a bath yourself, as you will be riding with a lady." She shooed her son out of the room and brought the food to Sarah.

"Thank you, my lady," Sarah said.

"Eat now," Lady Marie said. "Then you shall have a bath, and then I think you should sleep, no?" Sarah nodded, already feeling the drowsiness that comes from tired muscles beside a warm fire. Lady Marie said, "I shall be in the next room only, washing your dress."

"Thank you, my lady," Sarah murmured again. Then Lady Marie was gone, and Sarah turned to her supper.

***

Sarah barely remembered the bath and didn't remember going to bed at all, but when Lady Marie woke her the next morning, Sarah found herself cocooned between a wonderfully soft bed and a thick layer of heavy blankets. Though she could feel the crispness of the May morning on her exposed cheeks, for the first time in months she was warm right down to the tips of her toes. She stretched once, then curled up again in her pocket of warmth.

"My dear, I am so sorry, but you must get up now. Your breakfast is growing cold, and Piers is already getting the horses."

Sarah climbed out of bed and the first thing she saw was her blue dress, as shimmeringly beautiful as it had ever been, laid out on a chair. "Oh, my lady!" Sarah said with a gasp. "It's perfect again!"

Lady Marie smiled with satisfaction. "It is a gown of the very finest. It was an honor to restore it to its glory." She helped Sarah put on her underdress and then the silk gown, still talking. "I thought to mend your old cloak as well, but I did not. I hope you are not offended, but it is that I thought you might be safer traveling in an old and ragged outer garment, so I brushed it only."

"Yes, indeed, ma'am," Sarah said.

"You will remove the cloak when you arrive at court, yes?"

Lady Marie sounded almost anxious, and Sarah realized suddenly that she was speaking from her own professional pride as a lady-in-waiting. She would not send a lady from her care to the royal court looking anything less than her best. "Yes, ma'am," Sarah said meekly.

Lady Marie nodded with satisfaction. "When I brushed your cloak," she said quietly, "a small bottle fell from the outer pocket. It seems to me to be of great value, and so I have returned it."

"Thank you," Sarah whispered. Then, not knowing exactly why, she added, "It was my mother's."

Sarah ate her breakfast quickly and, when she was done, put on her sword and cloak and hurried downstairs to where Piers was waiting. He helped Sarah onto a glossy, dark brown horse and then waited patiently while she settled herself in the odd saddle. She tried to sit the way she remembered Queen Guinevere doing as she rode, and after a moment found a position that was not too uncomfortable, although the sword hanging at her side was awkward. She turned back to Lady Marie. "Thank you, my lady, for all your care," Sarah said.

"You will be safe with Piers," Lady Marie said calmly. "He is more clever than he sometimes appears."

"Merci, Maman," Piers murmured, and then they were off.

Sarah managed not to fall off the horse when they started, and by holding on grimly she was able to ride out the castle gate with some dignity. Piers said nothing for twenty minutes or so, but when they were out of sight of the castle he slowed and rode close to Sarah. She watched him apprehensively.

"Don't be concerned," the tall young man said, smiling. "I've only come to ask a few questions." Sarah's lips tightened. "Questions that you may, of course, refuse to answer. But as we are to be riding together for the next two days, I thought it would be best for me to learn your name."

"Sarah."

"I am honored, Mistress Sarah," Piers said, bowing gallantly in his saddle. "And, if I may be so bold, I don't suppose you've ever been on a horse before."

"I have too!" Piers raised his eyebrows slightly, and Sarah sighed. "But only on a cart horse pulling a wagon. I've never guided a horse or been on a saddle like this."

Piers eyed her speculatively, but he said only, "Then we will probably make better time if you let me have the reins of your horse. I'll lead, and you can concentrate on staying in the saddle." Sarah nodded, and they were silent while this exchange was completed and Piers tied the reins of Sarah's mount to his own saddle. Then Piers cleared his throat gently. "As for staying in the saddle, Mistress Sarah, I suspect that you will find it easier to do without your sword hanging at your side."

"Yes," Sarah said, conceding the point. "I can't find a comfortable way to adjust it."

"I am very much afraid that ladies' saddles were not designed to accommodate swords," Piers said.

Sarah nodded. "Like curtsies," she said.

"I beg your pardon?"

"It's hard to curtsy when you're holding a sword, too."

Piers appeared to be struck by this. "Why, yes, I can see how that might be difficult."

"I asked Sir Kai to show me how to do it, but he said I would have to figure it out myself."

Piers's eyes gleamed with pleasure. "You asked Sir Kai to ... to teach you to curtsy?"

"With a sword, yes. I know how to do it without one."

Piers was silent for a moment, and when he spoke his voice was unsteady. "It seems a most useful skill. Perhaps when you figure it out, you can show Sir Kai how it's done so that he'll know as well."

"If I see him again," Sarah said soberly.

"Yes," Piers said, his tone serious again. "I gather that you gave your word not to tell anyone but Parsifal and Arthur about what happened to them, and so I will not ask again, but can you tell me how you came to meet them? And how Sir Kai came to give you that sword?"

Sarah decided to ignore the first part of this question, as the answer might invite further questions as to why she was alone in the woods and where her parents were. She said, "It was supposed to be for his son, you know."

"Yes," Piers said, nodding gravely.

"But he said that his son was still young and that I'd probably need it before his son did."

"For what purpose?"

Sarah replied warily, "Don't you think that I might need one for protection on the journey to Camelot?" This wasn't a very good reply, Sarah knew, since she had already told Piers that Sir Kai had given her the sword before anything happened to send her on her journey. From Piers's furrowed brow, Sarah guessed he was about to point out this inconsistency, and she added quickly, "He said that someone ... I forget the name ... could make another one."

"Trebuchet?" Piers asked.

"That's it. Is that your father?" Piers nodded, and Sarah hurried on. "And you're his apprentice?"

"Yes," Piers said.

"But that seems very strange to me," Sarah commented, relieved to be talking about Piers instead of about herself. "I mean that you don't sound at all like a blacksmith. Anyone who heard you talk would think you were a great noble. You sound so polite and educated."

"Ah, but my father is a great noble," Piers said. "In the land where he was born, a smith can be as great a noble as a knight. But as for my manner of speaking, you must remember that my mother is a lady-in-waiting. She taught me the manners and language of chivalry from birth. Indeed, when I was younger, I had thought to become a page."

Sarah looked speculatively at Piers's broad, muscular shoulders. "You don't look very much like a page," she commented.

"Yes. It is fortunate that I gave up that plan, isn't it?" Piers replied agreeably. "Now, that's my excuse. What's yours?"

"My ... excuse?"

"Yes, Mistress Sarah. You also speak with gentility and courtesy—except of course when threatening castle guards at the point of a sword—and you wear a dress of the finest silk. You already know how to curtsy—except not with a sword—and yet you've never ridden in a lady's saddle. You even admit that you have ridden a cart horse pulling a wagon, an undignified position that no young noblewoman would have ever consented to. You are quite puzzling, too, you know."

Sarah chose her words with care. "I think ... I believe that my mother was an educated woman. It was she who taught me how to speak. But something happened when I was a baby and she was without a home. She would never say what happened, but it must have been bad. She told me that we were alone, without food or shelter, when Mor ... when a cloth peddler came by in his wagon. He took care of us, and we just stayed. He's the one who gave me the cloth for this dress. So you see, I just look genteel because of this silk. I'm not really noble at all." Piers shook his head slightly, but to Sarah's immense relief he asked no other prying questions, not all that long day on horseback, or the next.

Sarah had expected traveling by horse to be easier than walking, but at the end of the first day her muscles ached horribly, not only in the obvious spots but also in places where she hadn't known she had muscles at all. By the end of the second day, Sarah felt that she would have given anything for the privilege of walking, but when Piers at last stopped his horse and said, "Nearly there, Mistress Sarah," she was able to summon the pride to sit straight and pretend that she had merely been for a trot around a park.

Half an hour later Piers led her through the open gates of a majestic castle, made even more magnificent by pennons and banners and flags of all sorts, and made most splendid of all by the richly clad courtiers and ladies who flitted about like butterflies in a field of flowers. Sarah quickly removed the old cloak and draped it behind her saddle, near the place that she and Piers had finally found to secure her sword. She glanced at her dress, making sure that Lady Marie would approve, then moved her horse closer to Piers's. "How are we ever going to speak privately to King Arthur in all this throng?" she asked.

"I've been wondering about that myself," Piers admitted. "Normally, we would go to the king's seneschal and request an audience."

"Why don't we do that?"

"The king's seneschal is Sir Kai," Piers replied.

"Oh."

"Someone must be acting in his place while he's away, but I don't know who. I think I know what to do, though. Hi! Hi there, boy!" Piers called suddenly, beckoning to a boy who was emptying a bucket of water outside the stables. The boy approached. "Boy, do you know Terence, Sir Gawain's squire?" The boy nodded, and Piers gave him a coin. "Could you find him and tell him that Piers is waiting for him here at the stables and needs to see him? Tell him that it's an urgent matter."

The boy snatched the coin and raced away, and Sarah frowned. "A squire?"

"You'll see," Piers said. "Come. Let us put up our horses while we wait." He took Sarah into the stables, found two stalls, and showed Sarah how to strip their gear from the horses and rub down their sweating sides. Sarah put her sword back on. It had long since occurred to her that among all the knights of Camelot she might very well find the knight of the fires.

They were just finishing when a voice said, "Piers, how wonderful to see you again!"

Sarah jumped. She had heard no one approach, but the voice came from barely three feet behind her. She whirled around, her hand on her sword's hilt, but Piers placed his hand on hers and said, "Terence. I'm glad you're at court. I didn't know who else to talk to."

This squire, Terence, was a slim man in simply cut clothes. It was hard to tell how old he was—his triangular face had an ageless quality—but Sarah knew she had nothing to fear from him. She shook her hand free from Piers's restraining hold and released her sword. The squire bowed to her. "My lady," he said, smiling in welcome.

"This is Mistress Sarah," Piers said. "She has an urgent message for King Arthur."

Terence looked at Sarah. "A message from whom?"

Sarah hesitated, glancing around at the busy stable, and Piers quickly said, "It is to be for Arthur's ears alone."

Terence nodded. "Come to Gawain's rooms. We can speak privately there. I'll check with Bedivere to see when the king will be free."

"No," Sarah said. "I must see him at once."

Terence looked into her eyes, and Sarah had the odd sensation that the squire's eyes were sifting her most private thoughts. At last Terence said in a soft voice, "Nearly all who come here say that their business is urgent. Can you show me that it will be urgent to the king as well?"

There were too many servants bustling through. Sarah dared not say even the names Sir Kai or Queen Guinevere. The crone had been so insistent that only King Arthur was to be told what had happened. She shook her head.

"I gather that Bedivere's acting as seneschal?" Piers asked suddenly. Terence glanced at Piers, one eyebrow raised. Piers continued, "You mentioned arranging an audience with the king through Bedivere. Of course, I already knew that Sir Kai wasn't at court." Piers's eyes flickered significantly at Sarah, and Terence took a sharp breath.

"Yes, that's right," Terence said slowly. "He's gone to escort a lady home from a visit." Terence looked at Sarah, and Sarah nodded quickly, trying to show that she knew exactly which lady it was. Terence said, "Go to Gawain's rooms. I'll fetch Arthur at once." Then he was gone.

Sarah's scalp prickled; she had never seen anyone move so silently. Shaking her head, she followed Piers as he walked briskly out of the stable, up a flight of stairs, and down a corridor to a heavy oaken door. Piers knocked, waited a moment, then pushed it open and went inside. This was the second castle room that Sarah had ever been in, and while it was as different from Lady Marie's warm bedchamber as it could be, it was still comfortable. Not the slightest gesture had been made toward decoration here: everything was functional, from the deeply cushioned chairs by the fire to the cabinet with a row of bottles and goblets and, of course, the neatly arranged armor and weaponry that lined one whole wall. "Whose room is this?" she asked.

"Sir Gawain's."

"Who is Sir Gawain?"

Piers stared at Sarah, then laughed reluctantly. "I suppose that traveling with a cloth merchant you would spend little time with the nobility, but I had thought everyone in England knew who Sir Gawain is."

"Mother didn't like to talk about knights," Sarah explained.

Piers's face was still. "Didn't?" he asked gently. Sarah flushed, angry that she had given herself away by speaking of her mother as one gone. Piers said, "Sir Gawain is the greatest of all the knights of the Round Table."

Grateful to Piers for asking no questions, Sarah said, "My guardian, the cloth merchant, mentioned Sir Kai once or twice, but he didn't talk about other knights. Once, though, I heard a minstrel at a market day, singing about King Arthur's court, and I remember that he said that Sir ... oh, I forget the name ... Sir Laundry, or something like that, was the king's greatest knight."

"Sir Lancelot, I imagine," Piers said, smiling. "You must understand that every knight is the greatest knight in the land as long as the song about him lasts, but it is true that many consider Sir Lancelot the greatest knight of all. He left the court many years ago, though. That leaves Sir Gawain."

"And this Terence is his squire?" Piers nodded, and Sarah asked, "What sort of squire is it who goes off to 'fetch' the King of All England without a thought?"

Piers grinned. "A squire like no other, and that's all I know."

The door swung open, and Sarah looked up, into the kindest, weariest eyes she had ever seen. They were set in a youthful face that, incongruously, was framed by a gray beard. The man with the kind face wore clothes of red velvet, and Sarah knew it was the king. Instinctively, she dropped in a low curtsy, sensing Piers kneeling at her side.

"Rise, please," the king said, entering the room. Behind him came Squire Terence and two knights. The first was a huge man, as large as Sir Kai but with a red beard, and the other was more slender, with a brown beard streaked with gray. The brown-bearded man gently closed and bolted the door behind them.

"This is the lady, sire," Terence said. "Lady Sarah."

"I am honored, my lady," the king said, bowing graciously. "Terence says that you have an urgent message for me?"

Sarah nodded, her mouth dry. "It is supposed to be only for you."

"These are my closest friends and most loyal knights. I would trust Sir Gawain, Sir Bedivere, Terence, and, yes, Piers here with my life. You may speak freely."

Sarah took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She didn't want to give bad news to a man with such a face, but she said, "Queen Guinevere has been captured by a knight and taken back to his castle."

The silence was like a fog in the room. At last King Arthur said, "And Sir Kai?"

"Wounded. Badly, I think. But the queen made the knight take him too and promise that he would take him to a doctor."

"Did you see this yourself?" the king asked.

Sarah nodded. "I was in the bushes nearby. I don't think the knight saw me."

"How did you know that the lady was Queen Guinevere?" the brown-bearded knight—Sir Bedivere, King Arthur had called him—asked quietly.

"They had shared their food with me just before the knight came. I had only been away for a moment."

"Did the queen tell you her name? Or did Sir Kai?" Sir Bedivere asked.

Sarah thought about this. "Not at first. Sir Kai told me his own name, but he called the queen only 'my lady.' When the knight came, he knew her, though. Then, after Sir Kai had been wounded, he told the knight that he'd be in trouble when King Arthur heard that his queen had been captured. He said that really loud, so that I could hear, and I knew he was sending me to tell you."

"It sounds right, Arthur," Sir Bedivere said.

The king turned to his left and looked at the squire. "Terence?"

"The child's telling the truth, sire. Not a doubt."

The knight with the red beard spoke for the first time. "Where did this happen? How long ago? Did you see the knight's face?"

"Wait, Gawain," Arthur said softly, placing a restraining hand on the knight's arm. "Let the child tell the story." He gestured to a chair and said, "Please, my lady, sit down." Sarah timidly sat in one of the cushioned chairs, and the king sat in a chair across from her. "Start from the beginning, please."

Sarah nodded and began.