XII. The Honor of SiR Lancelot

When she had kissed Gaheris, Lynet straightened up and looked fondly at him while he gaped at her. "Stupid," she said. "It's been days and days since I was in love with your dimwitted brother. His revolting behavior at dinner didn't bother me at all."

"It didn't?" Gaheris whispered.

"Except that when he called Lyonesse his rare golden buttercup it nearly put me off my food."

Gaheris did not move. "You don't love Gareth?"

"No, you idiot. I love you. Shall I kiss you again to prove it?"

Gaheris nodded, and for the next few minutes there was no more talking. When at last their lips were free, they tried putting their love into words. They told each other about the moments when they had first realized they were in love, about the mannerisms and quirks that they found most endearing in each other, and all the usual things that lovers talk about. Lynet reflected privately that if she had overheard the same conversation between two other people she would have considered it appallingly mushy, but it was different when it was just she and her Gaheris.

Eventually, though, Lynet realized that it must be nearing dawn, and they still had a problem to solve. "Gary?" she said. Gaheris had told her to call him by his familiar name. "What are we going to do with you now? If you're found here in the morning, even our witless brother and sister might suspect that you were the midnight attacker."

"Awkward," Gaheris said, nodding. "Shall I hide under your bed?"

"And I could feed you with the leftovers from my meals? What a clever plan!" Lynet retorted.

"Leftovers from your meals? Huh! I'd starve," Gaheris muttered. "I suppose I'd better leave. But not far. I won't lose you again."

"You won't," Lynet said firmly. "Can you go back to that cabin where you stayed with Gareth? You could hide for a day or two, then ride up pretending to be searching for Gareth. We could meet for the first time."

"It's too far, and besides, there's no more food there. Don't you have any neighbors I could stay with?"

Lynet pondered this. "They're all tenants on our land. They'd be sure to tell Uncle Gringamore." Suddenly she smiled. "Except for one. Come on. You can stay with Jean le Forestier."

A few minutes later, they strolled unobserved out the main gate. As soon as they were out of the castle and could talk freely, Gaheris asked, "Who is this Jean?"

"He's a woodcutter. You've met him already once."

"The man who rescued me from Red Lands's guards?"

"That's the one. He saved my life, too."

"Useful chap," Gaheris commented. "Is he really close enough to walk to? Do you know the way?"

Lynet nodded. "I think so."

"You think so," Gaheris said with a sigh. "I have this recurring nightmare where I'm lost in a strange forest, and my only hope is your sense of direction. Enough to give a fellow the sweats, it is."

"Oh, shut up."

"At least I dream about you, lass. Are you sure this is the same woodcutter who saved me? Hairy fellow?"

"That's the one. With dreamy blue eyes."

Gaheris grunted. "I didn't notice his pretty eyes. What were you doing gazing into his eyes, anyway?"

"A lady never tells," Lynet said primly.

Gaheris snorted expressively. After a moment he asked, "How long do I have to stay with this dreamy hairball?"

"Only a day or two, until things settle down a bit." Lynet hesitated, then added, "No longer than that, please. It will seem long enough as it is."

"Ay, lass. That it will."

To Lynet's relief, her sense of direction did not lead them astray. Just as the sun showed over the dark eastern horizon, they heard the rhymthic sound of an axe on wood. They stepped out of the forest into the small clearing, where Jean le Forestier was splitting logs into kindling. The woodcutter looked up from his work and watched them approach. Behind his bushy beard, his face seemed to clear as he recognized Lynet, but then it clouded again as he looked at Gaheris.

"Good morning, Jean," Lynet said. She plunged immediately into her request. "You'll think me very demanding, I'm afraid, but I'm in trouble, and I've come to ask your help once again."

"I am yours, my lady, to command," Jean said, his face turned to one side. At Jean's voice, Gaheris jumped as if pricked with a needle. "What is your desire?"

"This is a knight of King Arthur's Round Table. He has just been rescued from an enchantment and for his sake—and for mine—he must remain hidden for a day or two. May he stay with you?"

"I am sorry, my lady," Jean said gruffly. "It is impossible."

Lynet blinked with surprise, but pressed on. "He won't take up much space—"

"Quiet, lass," Gaheris broke in, his voice gentle but firm. "Our friend surely has his reasons. Forgive us, sir."

Jean le Forestier reddened behind his whiskers and muttered, "I ask your pardon, but it is not possible that I should have a guest."

"Especially one from Arthur's court?" Gaheris asked, a smile growing on his face. Jean looked sharply at Gaheris. Gaheris smiled more broadly and added, "Whether I stay with you or not, you should know that I will tell no one where you are."

"What are you talking about?" demanded Lynet.

"Then you know me?" the woodcutter whispered.

Gaheris nodded, and Lynet said, "For heaven's sake, Gary, what's going on?"

Gaheris was silent, looking at Jean le Forestier. At last, Jean nodded and said, "You may tell her."

"Lady Lynet, I am honored to present to you Sir Lancelot du Lac."

"I've never really understood why you left the court, Sir Lancelot. Would you explain it?" Lynet asked. They were sitting together on the stoop of the woodcutter's cottage, watching the woods grow light in the morning sun.

Sir Lancelot shook his head slowly. "I thought—Bah! I was so foolish! — I thought my honor demanded it."

"Because you lost one joust?" Gaheris asked, grinning. "Where would I be if I ran off every time I was unhorsed?"

"Africa at least, mon ami," Sir Lancelot said, his eyes brightening. "But it was different for me. I was the one all the young knights admired. I was the one that minstrels sang about."

"I thought you never paid any attention to the minstrels," Gaheris said.

"But of course I listened to them! It was how I knew what to do! They sang that knights wore bright clothing, and I wore bright clothing! They sang that knights were devout, and I took my own priest! Whatever they sang, I attempted. It was the minstrels who created me!"

"I see," Lynet said. "And when they sang that you were the greatest knight in England, you tried to be the greatest knight in England."

Sir Lancelot nodded. "Yes, that's it. And when I was defeated ... I was no one anymore."

They sat in thoughtful silence for several minutes. Then Lynet asked, "And how did you end up here?"

"It was an accident," Sir Lancelot said. "After I left Camelot, I wandered for many weeks, eating but little, speaking to few, fighting no one."

"Yes, we met one of the knights you didn't fight, a fellow in pink armor."

Sir Lancelot nodded. "Sir Perimones. I liked him."

"So did I," Gaheris said.

Sir Lancelot continued. "At last I came upon a holy man deep in a forest. I stayed with him in his—what do you call it?—ermitage?"

"That's it," Gaheris said. "Hermitage."

"Yes. The ermite asked if I were a knight, and I told him I was nothing. He said, 'Then you must become something. Learn some work. For in an empty world, you can only find joy in labor.'

"Three days later, weary of traveling, I came upon this cottage, half-built and abandoned. In the meadow I found a rusted axe and an old oxcart. I decided to stay. With the axe, I cut wood and finished the house. Every week I fill the oxcart with wood and pull it to the village to trade for food."

Lynet's eyes widened as she imagined one man pulling an oxcart full of wood all the way to the nearest village, at least two miles away. But, glancing at Sir Lancelot's huge arms and shoulders, she believed it. "And have you found joy in your labor?" Lynet asked.

Sir Lancelot nodded, and for the first time he smiled. "Look at that woodpile," he said. "Every log is chosen well, cut well, of an equal size." He spoke with simple pride. "And at the end of the day, when my arms and shoulders ache and I eat the food of my own earning, I am content."

"More than when you were the greatest knight in England?" Gaheris asked.

"Bah!" Sir Lancelot said, waving his hand in a gesture of dismissal. "To be a knight, it was easy for me. It was as natural as breathing. It is much greater to be the best woodcutter in the forest."

"Do you think you will ever be a knight again?" Lynet asked.

"Why should I?"

"Or I, for that matter," Gaheris said suddenly, a huge smile on his lips. "By Gog, why should I?"

"What do you mean?" Lynet asked.

"I'm no knight. You know that, Lancelot knows that, everyone knows that. I never wanted to be a knight, and I find no ... no joy in it. Listen, lass, would you mind moving to the north?"

"What? Why?"

"What I've always wanted to do was manage my family lands—see to the crops, take care of my tenants, put the estates back in good repair, as they haven't been since my grandfather's day. I want to be a farmer."

"But your family lands," Sir Lancelot said, "do they not belong to your older brother?"

"Then I'll get Gawain to send me as his steward. He'll be happy to. He's as unfit to be a landlord as I am to be a knight. How does that sound, lass?"

"Are you asking me to come with you?" Lynet asked.

"But of course I am!"

"Gary, you idiot, you've never even asked me to marry you!"

Sir Lancelot nodded seriously. "You should ask her first, you know. It would be convenable—how do you say?—proper."

Gaheris grinned, his cheeks red. "Well, you will, won't you?"

It was not the proposal that Lynet had dreamed of someday receiving, but some dreams are not as important as others. "Yes," she said.

Gaheris smiled warmly, then put one hand on Sir Lancelot's shoulder. "Thank you, Lancelot. You have shown me my honor."

It was evening before Lynet left Gaheris at Lancelot's cabin and walked back to the castle. As she had expected, Lyonesse was waiting for her. Lynet carefully gave Lyonesse the tale that she and Gaheris had concocted for her: how the wounded knight had died and immediately disappeared in a cloud of smoke. Lyonesse looked skeptical. "But knights don't disappear—"

"Oh, he was no ordinary knight," Lynet hastened to explain. "He was a wizard, from another world. Before he died, he told me that he had come to test Sir Gareth. Only the greatest knight in the world could ever withstand him. But Sir Gareth won!" Lyonesse's lips parted and formed an O. Her eyes gleamed with pleasure. Lynet quickly followed up her advantage. "That makes Sir Gareth the greatest knight in the world!" she explained, in case Lyonesse hadn't made the connection herself.

Lynet could see that her sister wanted to believe her story, and she sighed with relief. Lyonesse always believed what she wanted to believe. But Lyonesse still had one more question. "But why were you outside the gates?"

"I fell into a trance when the wizard-knight disappeared, and when I awoke I was in the meadow."

Lyonesse's eyes gleamed with credulous awe. "The knight must have put you under a spell!"

Lynet smiled softly. "He surely did," she murmured.

Lyonesse nodded. "Well, you seem all right now. I was afraid you had gone away alter that dwarf."

"Dwarf?"

"The one you saved from the dungeon; he ran away during the night." Lyonesse snorted. "That's how he thanks you for your pains. I hope now you've learned what comes of that sort of friendship."

"Yes, I have," Lynet said meekly.

At dinner that night, Lynet was relieved to see that Gareth was none the worse for his night's adventures. He didn't even limp. Before the first course could be served, Lyonesse had launched into a much embroidered version of Lynet's story about the magician. When she got to the part where the fictional magician proclaimed Gareth the greatest knight in the world, her voice quavered with triumph. But she met with unexpected opposition. Gareth exclaimed, "It is not so! There is but one knight who can ever bear that title—Sir Lancelot!"

Lyonesse was too surprised at being contradicted to answer at first, and Sir Gringamore stepped into the awkward silence. "Well, well, that may have been true a year ago, but Sir Lancelot's gone now. Perhaps he's dead."

"It is not so!" Gareth repeated, even more hotly. "There is no knight who could defeat him!"

"What about your brother, Sir Gawain?" asked Sir Gringamore. "I remember when he was the one called Arthur's greatest knight, and there are some who say that he was always better than Lancelot."

Gareth stood abruptly, knocking his chair down behind him. "They who say so lie! I shall restore Sir Lancelot's honor! You'll see!" In high dudgeon, Gareth stalked out of the hall. Watching him, Lynet could only shake her head. For Gareth, she realized, honor was tournament victories and shiny armor; he would never understand that his hero had discovered honor in sore muscles at the end of a long day of labor done well.

***

The next day, Lynet rose at dawn, saddled two horses, and rode to Lancelot's cabin. Gaheris was waiting, and after he had embraced her, he muttered, "I thought you'd never get here, love. Did you have to laze about in your bed so long?"

"I'm a lady of leisure, I am," Lynet said, snuggling her head against Gaheris's chest. "Would you like to go for a ride with me?"

Gaheris grinned at the second horse. "You seem sure that I'll say yes. What if I don't feel like riding?"

"Then I'll make you. Remember, I'm better with a sword than you are."

Gaheris mounted with a sigh. "It's a terrible shrew I've chosen for myself."

Lynet smiled, but with a touch of seriousness. "Indeed, Gary, I think you have."

Gaheris reached across and took her hand. "Do you see me trying to back out? You're the woman I thought I'd never find."

Lynet blushed with pleasure, but her face remained serious. "There's more, though. You should know that since you met me I've become a—" The word would not come.

"An enchantress?" Gaheris said gently.

Lynet nodded. "Your Aunt Morgan taught me. I'm a sorceress, like your mother."

"No!" Gaheris said vehemently. "Not like her at all! If anyone's like Mother, it's your selfish witch of a sister."

Lynet said faintly, "Then you don't mind that I'm an enchantress?"

"My love, I wouldn't mind if you were a kitchen maid. In fact," Gaheris added thoughtfully, "once we're married, you will be. If I have you working in the kitchens, I can get rid of one maid and save money on wages."

Lynet's eyes gleamed. "You do that, but mind what you eat. I know a wonderful recipe for turning people into spiders."

"Huh! Morgan would teach you that," Gaheris grumbled. He had not let go of her hand, and it felt comfortable that way, so for the next two hours they rode hand in hand through the welcoming forest. They talked often, and just as often were silent, but their hands were seldom apart.

At last they turned back toward Sir Lancelot's cabin. Taking a short way through the forest, they came upon a meadow, and in the meadow was a knight on a huge black horse. The knight was fully armored, and his visor hid his face, but as soon as Gaheris saw him, he chuckled and said, "Well, of all people!"

Lynet had drawn into the shadows to let the stranger pass by, but at Gaheris's words she said, "Do you know this knight?"

"I'd know that devil horse anywhere," Gaheris said lightly. He urged his horse forward, out of the trees, and called out, "Hallo, Gawain! You lost?"

The knight turned and removed his helm, revealing an open, friendly face that was at the same time somehow wild and untamed. "Gary?" he said. "Good Gog, Gary, I'm glad to see you!"

While the two brothers embraced with obvious affection, Lynet stared with awe at Gawain, the great knight whose exploits had been told in banquet halls almost as long as she could remember. He was a mountain of a man, but his eyes were kind and reassuring. "Gawain, this is Lady Lynet of Perle. I'm going to marry her."

Lynet rode forward, a bit shyly. Gawain greeted her warmly, and with great grace and even greater sincerity kissed her hand and declared himself her servant. It was quite the most courtly and gracious greeting that Lynet had ever received. Gaheris cuffed his brother on the shoulder and said, "Enough of that, now. What are you doing in these parts?"

"Well you should ask, you bothersome puppy," said Gawain with a snort. "I'm looking for you and your witless brother."

"He's your brother, too, I believe," Gaheris pointed out.

"Not when he acts like a ninny. Well? Is Gareth here?"

"Ay," Gaheris said. "He's up at the local manor, a place called the Castle Perle."

"No, he's not," Lynet said suddenly. A movement at the far end of the meadow had just caught her eye. A knight in familiar black armor sat on a horse at the edge of the clearing. "He must have decided to take the air, because he's right over there."

Gawain and Gaheris followed her eyes. Gawain called out, "Gareth?"

Gareth rode forward, his hand on his sword hilt. "Is it indeed you, Sir Gawain?"

"A bit formal, aren't you, brother? Yes, it is indeed I. And I'm glad to see you looking so—"

"Silence!" Gareth snapped suddenly. His visor was raised, and his face was taut and unsmiling. "I have heard that you have been declaring yourself a greater knight than Sir Lancelot!" Gareth said belligerently.

"Eh?" Gawain replied.

"That's not what Uncle Gringamore said," Lynet interjected. "He only said that some people had said—"

"It is a lie!" Gareth declared.

"Very well," Gawain said agreeably. "Where have you been keeping yourself, boy?"

"Did you not hear me, Sir Gawain?" Gareth snapped. "I called you a liar. Neither you nor anyone else shall declare you to be greater than Sir Lancelot! I have sworn to defend Sir Lancelot's honor at all costs! Draw your sword, Sir Gawain!"

"No," said Gawain.

"Don't be an ass, Gareth," said Gaheris.

Gareth drew his sword and spurred his horse forward, shouting, "For the honor of Sir Lancelot! I shall prove thee no match for him!"

Lynet did not see the beginning of the fight. Gaheris grabbed her horse's bridle and turned it sharply away, leading her out of the way of Gareth's headlong attack. When she was finally able to turn around and watch, both Gawain and Gareth had dismounted, and for the third time Lynet watched Gareth attack an opponent who refused to fight back. Gawain parried every attack—although much more easily than either Sir Perimones or Gaheris had—but refused to attack in turn.

"Look here, lad," Gawain was saying. "You don't really think that it will do anything for Lancelot's honor if you kill me, do you?"

"I've sworn an oath!" Gareth said, panting. He redoubled his efforts, but Gawain fended off every blow, seemingly without effort.

"What can we do?" Lynet asked Gaheris.

"What we need is a fish," Gaheris commented lightly. "You don't happen to—"

"How can you be so calm?" Lynet asked. "Those are your brothers."

"Oh, he won't hurt Gawain," Gaheris said calmly. "People like Gawain and Lancelot are naturals, far beyond the reach of the rest of us."

"And what if Gawain hurts Gareth?"

"I've got no problem with that. I tried to hurt him myself just a couple of nights ago."

"But that was because you were jealous," Lynet said. "Now you aren't. Please try to stop him."

Gaheris shrugged in careless acquiescence and rode a few steps forward. "Gareth, listen. What if Gawain were to write a note saying that he believed Lancelot was the world's greatest knight? You'd do that, wouldn't you, Gawain?"

"Sure. No skin off my nose," Gawain said.

"It is not enough!" gasped Gareth. "I must restore Sir Lancelot's honor!"

Gaheris threw up his arms in disbelief. "And how do you think you're going to do that, you crack-brained block? Kill your brother? Listen, you bed-wetting sapskull—"

"Does he really wet the bed?" interrupted Gawain. "I never knew that."

"You never had to share with him. Don't interrupt, now—"

Gareth swung a mighty blow at Gawain, his breath coming in great ragged gasps. Lynet felt her heart go out to him. His odd notions of honor had trapped him. First, they had led him to make a silly vow; now they wouldn't let him forget it. He'd never rest until he convinced himself that he'd fulfilled his oath.

"Look here, Gareth," Gaheris was saying. "Lancelot doesn't need you to save his honor. Just because one knight unhorsed him doesn't mean—"

"And it wasn't even me," Gawain pointed out, dodging a ponderous chop. "It was that chap Sir Wozzell."

The answer came to Lynet in a flash. "What did you say, Sir Gawain?" she called out. "Sir Wozzell? How do you know about Sir Wozzell?"

"Sir Wozzell was the, ah, the foreign knight who defeated Sir Lancelot," Gawain said.

Lynet gasped, as if utterly astonished. She could feel Gaheris's eyes on her, but she did not look at him. "But ... Sir Wozzell ... that was the name of the knight you defeated the other night, Sir Gareth!" Lynet declared.

There was a sudden silence. Gareth stopped, almost in midswing, and stared at Lynet. A slow grin spread across Gaheris's face, and he lifted his voice proudly. "Don't you see what this means, lad? It means that you have already restored Sir Lancelot's honor! You have fulfilled your vow!"

Gareth collapsed on his knees and lifted his face to the sky. "Thanks be to Heaven!" he said reverently.

There was no longer any point in waiting, so Lynet and the three knights rode to the Castle Perle together. When Lyonesse realized that Gareth's brothers, especially the famous Sir Gawain, had come to her castle, she was almost beside herself with delight and ordered a banquet prepared at once.

At the banquet, Gareth provided the entertainment, telling the tale of his adventures. Lynet could follow the basic events—Gareth's battles with Sir Kai, with the band of thieves, with the black and green and pink and blue knights, and of course with the Knight of the Red Lands—but beyond that outline, she recognized little of the story. Gareth's account had little room for anyone except himself. Only by one or two casual references could a careful listener know that Lynet, and an unnamed dwarf, had accompanied the hero. Gaheris, who was supposedly hearing the story for the first time, clearly thought it was great fun, and Lynet had to avoid Gaheris's eyes if she was to keep from giggling.

Only after the banquet had drawn to an overdue conclusion and everyone had purportedly gone to bed could Lynet and Gaheris meet with Gawain and tell him the true story. He enjoyed it immensely. He did not seem at all surprised to hear about the role that his squire Terence had played, and he knew the little elf Robin well. Only one detail did Lynet and Gaheris leave out: the true identity of Jean le Forestier.

It was almost dawn before Gawain and Gaheris went to their beds, but Lynet was filled with that same magical wakefulness that had kept her up on the night of the half moon. Following some undefined impulse, she left her room and walked out into the night, toward Sir Lancelot's cabin. She had not gone twenty yards past the gate before she was aware of a presence beside her. "Robin?" she asked, unperturbed.

"The same, my lady," came the reply. "You've done well. I told you that you had potential."

Another voice, from her other side, chimed in. "He's right," he said. It was Terence. "We at the Seelie Court are proud of you."

Lynet blushed in the dark. "Thank you. Squire Terence—your grace, I mean—"

"Just 'Terence' is fine," the squire said.

"Did you know that Sir Gawain is here?"

"So I hear. Perhaps I'll come join you at the castle when it's light. I've missed him while he's been away."

They walked together in pleasant quiet through the meadow and into the forest. "Do you know where you're going, my lady?" asked Robin.

Lynet nodded. "I want to thank Jean le Forestier—Sir Lancelot—again. Gaheris and I will be going north soon, and I don't know if I'll ever see him again."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that, my lady," said Robin with a merry chuckle. "Lancelot's story isn't over yet."

"No one's story is over yet," Terence said quietly, and the first cool rays of sun began to filter through the woods where they walked.