Other than a slight headache and some bright spots dancing in front of his eyes, Gawain felt none the worse for wear for his episode. Ailim flicked his ears back at him and rolled an eye back in his head to peek at Gawain as they rode across the green and gold country side at a ground covering trot.
“I’m fine, horse. Don’t carry on like a milk sop mother,” Gawain scolded his friend.
“Then please try not to fall off the earth again,” Ailim returned tartly.
“Aye, it did feel just like that, as if I would tumble off the earth if I let go of the grass.” Gawain’s inner voice trembled a little at the memory.
Ailim snorted and shook his head, so his heavy mane tossed on his neck. Gawain spared a glance behind him to see how Alain and the new horse were faring. Alain was riding with the other pages and seemed to be handling the chestnut with no difficulties. Gawain had bought the mare for a song because of her unruly temperament. She had trodden on and bitten Sir Bedevere’s page so many times, the lad refused to have anything to do with her, let alone ride the beast.
It was just Gawain’s good luck the silly thing had chosen that precise time to bite Sir Bedivere in the buttocks. Gawain offered to take the beast off his hand as he needed something for his newly-acquired page to ride. Bedivere sent the red horse on her way with a curse and a cuff on the nose. Gawain bought the tack on the little horse and came away quite pleased with the bargain. Ailim assured him the creature was not evil tempered. She could not abide fools, and the young page of Bedevere’s was certainly a fool, if not worse, when it came to horses.
“Alain and the red lady will get on famously, and so long as the boy continues to treat me like a god, I will have no complaint,” Ailim told Gawain complacently, shamelessly eavesdropping on Gawain’s thoughts.
“It is most disconcerting when you do that,” Gawain complained to the great stallion.
“Don’t think so loud, and I will endeavour not to listen.”
“Have you heard aught from Eldon?” Gawain changed the subject abruptly.
“They are still waiting for Arthur’s spies to return with news from the tap rooms of the town. Arthur is growing impatient and increasingly angry.”
“Can you bespeak the Lady Nuina’s palfrey again and see if you can get anything from her that will give us some clue as to where they are hidden?” Gawain chewed his lower lip in agitation.
Every passing hour placed the Lady Nuina in more danger. Her safety hung by the thin thread of the queen’s whim, and who knew how long that would last. “I can hear the mare, and she is less nervous, so her thoughts are making more sense this time. She has not seen her lady for three feedings, and none of the other horses have left where she is kept,” Ailim reported. “We must be somewhat closer to wherever she is as her mind voice is stronger and clearer.”
“Maybe they are at the town at Seven Stones Rocks, or somewhere nearby, then. We ride closer to that destination, and you feel the mare is nearer. May the gods grant that it is so,” Gawain said fervently as if saying it out loud could make it come true.
“She feels to be further southwest than where we are bound, but I am not sure of that, and you know the horses may not be where the ladies are. For all we know, King March may have sold them on as they are noticeably horses of high quality,” Ailim cautioned Gawain.
“Are you trying to drive me mad?” Gawain growled. “You snatch the hope from my breast and like to drive all thought of a good ending from me.”
“I only want you to keep your guard up. King March plays a dangerous game and is not afraid to use whatever means at his disposal to further his own ends. We will take back the Lady Nuina, do not fear, but we must not lose sight of the larger issue at hand, which is returning the queen to her rightful place at the king’s left hand unless Arthur sees fit to put her away,” Ailim said in an attempt to placate his knight.
They had only ridden a mile or so when Ailim lifted his head and cocked his ears straight forward. He snorted and shook his great head before slowing to a walk.
“Eldon reports the men are back, and there is no sign of King March or a large party of any description passing through the town at Seven Stones Rocks. The king is livid with anger, and Lancelot seeks to calm him and turn his fury from the queen. Eldon says Lancelot is near crazy with fear of what Arthur will do when we find them.” Ailim’s mind voice was laced with worry.
“Does Lancelot have orders for us? Do we continue on to Seven Stones and re-join them there, or do they ride this way to meet up with us?” Gawain interrupted him.
“Eldon is unsure what action will be taken just yet. Unofficially, we should find a good spot and rest until the sun is up. Lancelot does not think Arthur plans to move before morning and believes they will be coming our way.”
Gawain nudged the war horse forward again and informed the rest of the knights to watch for a suitable campsite to spend the rest of the night. Before long, Bors raised his voice and signalled he had found a place in a small hollow just to the north of where they rode. Gratefully, Gawain turned Ailim in the direction indicated and led the way down into the little swale. A small spring gathered in a pool at the lowest point, and the inky sky and faint starlight reflected in its mirror smooth surface.
It took little time to set up camp and start a fire. Agravain and Bors disappeared into the dark to see what night faring game they could scare up. The pages set out picket lines, and tended to the horses before gathering fire wood and setting the stew pot to boil in the hot rocks of the hastily constructed fire pit. Gawain’s stomach growled loudly when Bors and Agravain stepped into the ring of fire light holding three dressed hares by the feet. In no time, the air was rich with the scent of cooked rabbit. The pages augmented the stew with some sort of berries and roots they scavenged from their saddle bags.
Gawain lay back with his head resting on his saddle and his cloak wrapped tightly around him to ward off the chill of the night air. His stomach was comfortably full, and he was uncommonly tired. He searched the heavens and was oddly reassured when the constellation of the Great Bear was just where it was supposed to be. His mind settled to his favorite pastime of watching the wheel of the constellations across the breadth of the night sky. In a world constantly changing with war and uncertainty on every hand and no anchor to hold to save the company of King Arthur and his Knight Brothers, the constellations were a constant in Gawain’s world.
There were times when Gawain felt as long as the stars of the constellation of the Great Bear did not fall from the sky, all would be as it should if he waited long enough and had the faith to muddle through whatever trouble happened to be near. So far it had proven to be true, and with any luck, it would continue to be that way. The Great Bear was slipping toward the dawn side of the sky when Gawain’s eyes ceased to follow his dance and slid shut into a thankfully dreamless slumber.
Gawain woke to a rosy pink dawn that touched the water in the tiny pool of the spring with fire. He took stock of the campsite and was pleased to see all was in order. The pages had stirred up the fire and were busy warming some cider they had produced from one of their saddle bags. The stew from last night was simmering on the glowing coals at the side of the fire. Gawain closed his eyes for a moment and touched Ailim’s mind gently in case the war horse was still sleeping. Gawain found the horse awake and full of news.
“While you frittered away the night in slumber, I have been busy on your behalf gathering news for you,” Ailim began. “Arthur is on the move and headed to meet us, Eldon says they have no idea yet where to look for King March. We are to wait here until the sun is half way to the zenith and then set out westward and meet the king’s company. They are well rested from their sojourn at the town at Seven Stones Rocks, and we have been racing all over the countryside of Lyonnesse. Arthur wants us ready to ride hard when we join him.” Ailim finished with the equivalent of a horse’s mind grin.
“Have you bespoken the palfrey this morning?” Gawain asked, turning on his side and stretching his long frame in the warmth of the rising sun.
“As it happens, I have managed to fit a conversation with Rose into my busy schedule,” Ailim said haughtily.
“Rose, is it?” Gawain chuckled, “A new conquest on the horizon, I take it?”
“Mayhap,” Ailim said airily. “She is trying to see some landmark that will give us an indication of where she is being kept. So far, all she can be sure of is she is not near the sea coast. There are no sea birds about, and she cannot hear the waves or detect any scent of the sea in the air.”
“Does she remember how long she traveled from the time she left Castle Mount in the dark and when she got to where she is now?”
“I asked her that, of course. But you know most horses do not reckon the passage of time as you humans do. She thinks it was another night and the most of another sun before they rested. Then they rode again. Rose remembers there was a great deal of excitement and shouting before they moved on, and she thinks some of the horses and men went off in another direction. She has not seen her friend Hoarwood since then. Isabella, the queen’s mare, is in the same pasture as Rose, and as far as she knows the queen and the Lady Nuina are still at the same location.”
“Are there trees near her pasture or a river or high hills?” Gawain searched frantically for some missed clue.
“Rose says there are trees to the south of her, and the pasture is in a valley, so she can’t see if there are any buildings nearby. She can smell wood smoke and hear voices occasionally but no sounds that would mean she was near a well-traveled road.”
“Damn him to the nine hells, they could be anywhere in Lyonnesse,” Gawain cursed.
“Rose says she will try to talk to the other horses that were in the pasture when she arrived. She is most anxious to meet me in person,” Ailim finished with a self-satisfied tone.
Gawain rolled out of his cloak and stood up. He retired behind some bushes to relieve himself and then stopped at the fire to pick up a gourd of hot cider and a wooden bowl filled with the remains of the rabbit stew. He walked over to where Alain was grooming the two horses and rested his foot on a boulder to set his bowl on his bent knee.
Alain combed the chestnut mare’s tail until it was free of twigs and burrs and shone like copper in the morning light. Ailim was already spotless and snoozing in the sun with his ears at half-mast and his left hind leg resting slouch hipped like an old plow horse.
“How goes the mare, young Alain?” Gawain asked.
“She is wonderful.” Alain gushed like a girl over her first crush. “I can never thank you enough for her.”
“What of her temperament? She suits you well?” Gawain said with amusement ripe in his voice.
“She has been naught but sweet to me, easy to ride, and quick to do as I ask,” Alain said earnestly.
“It seems she was not so sweet to Sir Bedivere’s page. Have you asked him about her?” Gawain grinned.
“Justin is not a horseman and well the mare knows it. She was tired of her back hurting from a wrinkled saddle pad and getting jabbed in the ribs by his spurs and the mouth by his ignorant hands.” Alain defended the mare vehemently.
“Hmm, I see.” Gawain took a sip of cider to hide his smile.
The chestnut mare lifted her delicate head and regarded him with a sceptical eye. Apparently, deciding the man wasn’t worth her notice, she turned her head and proceeded to search for bits of treats in Alain’s pouch with her aristocratic nose. The mare was well bred from the looks of her, Gawain supposed, and if she suited Alain as well as the lad would have him believe, then the deal was not ill done at all.
The lad needs something in his life to fuss over and look out for.
“He has me,” Ailim snorted softly and lifted a lazy eyelid to glare at Gawain, “and don’t you let him forget it.”
“What would you call your chestnut lady, then?” Gawain set his empty bowl and gourd down and moved to run a practiced hand down the mare’s neck. She turned her head sharply and drew her lips back from her teeth at his touch. Gawain caught her nose in his fingers and squeezed gently at the same time Alain spoke quickly to her, and Ailim stamped his large forefoot and pinned her with his dark gaze. The mare blinked twice at Gawain and politely relaxed her lips and regarded him with limpid eyes that gazed innocently from beneath her dark chestnut lashes. Gawain laughed and slapped her gently on the shoulder.
“You’d do well to watch this lady; she has all the wiles of a maiden, but I’ll judge her temper is as hot as the color of her hair. You know what they say Alain. Hell hath no fury like that of a chestnut mare,” Gawain warned his page.
“I have named her Hedra because her coat is the color of oak leaves in the fall. Justin only called her that bitch of a mare. I think Hedra suits her well.” Alain stroked the mare’s face.
“How fare you, young Alain? None of the older pages are hounding you?” Gawain asked, wanting to make sure the rescued lad hadn’t gone from one bad situation to land in another.
“Fine, just fine. I mostly stay away from the ones who are interested in deviltry and have made the acquaintance of two of the younger pages. I am content to keep company with Ailim here, and well, now I have my lovely Hedra to care for.” Alain smiled brilliantly.
“There is no one you would like to get a message to back at the inn who might be worried about you?”
“None I can bring to mind, mostly I did my work and tried to stay out of sight the rest of the time. I had only been there a sen night when you arrived.” Alain shook his head, and his hair flopped over his eyes again.
“If any one bothers you, I mean for you to come and tell me at once, do you understand? As my page, you are under my protection, and any insult done to you is insult to me and must be answered for.” Gawain held the page’s gaze with his own.
Alain nodded and swiped his unruly hair out of his face with a grimace.
“Never fear, I will inform you if anything untoward is happening,” Ailim assured Gawain, thrusting his head protectively over the stable lad’s shoulder.
“Be assured I will tell you if there is a need.” Alain stroked the horse’s nose and met the knight’s concerned gaze.
“Best get these beasts saddled and our gear packed. The sun is getting high, and it is time we were astride and on the move.” Gawain slapped Alain gently on the back and headed back to the fire to give the order to break camp.
Gawain was glad to be on the move and doing something, even if it brought him no closer to discovering where the queen and the Lady Nuina were hidden. They made the road and turned to the west in order to meet up with Arthur on his way to the east. The company rode at a quick trot, and within a couple of hours, they could see the dust of Arthur’s war horses in the distance. Ailim confirmed the dust was indeed Arthur and his contingent of knights. Gawain signalled his group of men to halt, and they gathered in a knot in the middle of the road to wait for Arthur to come to them.
Arthur’s face was dark as a thundercloud with suppressed anger. Lancelot’s face was drawn, worry etched deep lines from his eyes and the corners of his mouth. Gawain worried about the obvious dissent between Arthur and his most trusted companion. He was pretty sure the reason for the unrest between the two stemmed from their differing opinions of the queen’s behaviour and the reasons behind her actions. Arthur drew rein when he came even with Gawain, and a sober smile lit his blue eyes.
“I hear you had no better hunting than I out at Wolf Rocks,” Arthur said wryly.
“That is true, there was no sign of anyone being there for some time,” Gawain admitted. “We were hoping you would have them cornered at the town at Seven Stones Rocks, and we could ride to join you and assist in freeing the queen and the Lady Nuina.”
Arthur rallied his knights and set out down the road to the east two by two. The High King indicated Gawain should bring Ailim abreast of his stallion and ride at his side. Gawain awkwardly obeyed with an apologetic look at Lancelot, who shrugged his shoulders in resignation as Gawain slid into Lancelot’s accustomed place.
Arthur rode three horse lengths ahead of the two horses behind him, and Gawain kept pace with him.
“Caliburn tells me your Ailim has been able to mind speak with the Lady Nuina’s palfrey. Has she been able to shed any light on where she is being held?” Arthur spoke quietly, so only Gawain could hear his words.
“‘Tis true, Ailim has been able to make some sense out of her mind speech but nothing that will tell us where they are. Isabella, the queen’s mare is in the same pasture, so there is hope the ladies are still together, wherever they are.” Gawain frowned at the road in front of him.
“When did your stallion last have speech with the mare?” Arthur’s voice was impatient.
“This morning before we left camp,” Gawain answered, laying his hand on Ailim’s neck to calm the tension building up in the war horse.
“Ask him to try again as we ride. We could be riding totally in the wrong direction and never know it.” Arthur let a breath out harshly through his nostrils in exasperation.
Ailim cocked his ear back at Gawain. “I will see if Rose is able to speak with me.”
“Ailim will do his best to have speech with the Lady Nuina’s palfrey and to get something useful to us,” Gawain reported to Arthur. The knight did not mention to Arthur that Ailim was only too happy to speak with the mare the stallion was most certainly planning to romance once they found her.
They rode along in silence for a mile or so. Gawain kept a sharp eye on the footing, knowing Ailim was otherwise occupied and not wanting the war horse to injure himself or walk off the road. From what Gawain could make out of the side of the conversation he could hear, where the horse was putting his feet was the last thing on Ailim’s mind at the moment.
Presently, Ailim finished his visit with the Lady Nuina’s Rose and returned his attentions to his present surroundings.
“I may have something we can work with.” Ailim swivelled his ears back and forth. “Rose had a chat with an old work mare since I spoke with her last. She has been at the place as long as she can remember and has seen all parts of the estates.” Ailim paused to shake his head to dislodge the bothersome flies pestering his face. “The old mare says there is a large stone building with warm stables in the winter. Rose tells me that there is what looks like a large castle, bigger than the one at Castle Mount. The work horse showed Rose a mind memory.”
“Can you relay exactly what you have told me to Caliburn, so he can give it to Arthur straight away?” Gawain asked Ailim aloud.
“It is already done. Arthur knows what you know.” Ailim sounded smug. “Also, Rose overheard some of the grooms talking, and she listened because she knew I needed to know any little detail. She thinks they called the place Abay, but she is not sure.”
Gawain met Arthur’s stunned gaze as Caliburn fed him the last little tidbit of information at the same time Gawain heard it.
“Damn the man, he’s at Castle Arbray,” Arthur cursed. “He has led us a merry chase with his false trails and leads.”
Arthur pulled Caliburn to halt and wheeled him to face the oncoming knights. They gathered around their king in a loose circle and exchanged uneasy glances with each other. None of the knights missed the fact Gawain now rode in Lancelot’s favored position, and no one could guess how Lancelot would respond to the king’s displeasure. Gawain pulled Ailim out of his place beside Arthur and Caliburn and slipped into his usual position just behind Lancelot and Eldon. Arthur lost no time in imparting the news of the queen’s whereabouts and quickly laid out his wishes.
The king sent Bors and Agravain ahead of the main body of knights to parlay with the castle and let King March know his bolthole had been found out. They were not to let anyone leave Castle Arbray for any reason. Bors and Agravain turned their war horses to the south west and disappeared quickly over the rolling hills.
Grimly, Arthur led the rest of the troop in the same direction at a slower pace. The Great Bear glanced over at Lancelot who rode again at the side of his king and allowed himself a tense smile. Lancelot returned the king’s gesture with a smile of his own that did not reach his eyes. Gawain rode in silence, looking neither right nor left. The huge rock of apprehension that rested in his gut screamed this day would not end well for anyone.
“Except maybe me.” Ailim intruded on Gawain’s worrying. “Rose is most anxious for me to come and rescue her.”
“Be sure she does not breathe a word to anyone until Bors and Agravain have a chance to get to Castle Arbray. The queen and March cannot escape us now,” Gawain told the stallion sternly.
“She will tell no one. Isabella has been very uppity to her of late, and Rose says the queen is freezing the Lady Nuina out as well. Rose is sick of adventure and wishes to return home at once, with me.”
“Well and good then. Perhaps you could remind her to keep her peace, if you don’t mind.
The miles wore away under the pace set by Arthur on Caliburn. Gawain could tell even Ailim was beginning to feel the strain in his muscles of a week of hard riding with little rest. He readjusted his helm, so it did not rub on the still tender spot on the back of his skull and wished fervently for a soft bed and a hot tub to soak in for about a week.
Yes, a soft bed, some wine from a good vintage, and the Lady Nuina in his arms. That would be most pleasant and well deserved after this chase across Lyonnesse.
Gawain dropped out of formation and held back until the little knot of pages caught up with him. Alain drew his precious Hedra over to pace beside Ailim. Hedra arched her neck and whickered at the stallion, who returned her sally with interest. Alain passed Gawain a fresh skin of wine and a packet of travel bread with some hard cheese. Gawain tucked the packet into his pouch and slung the wine skin over the pommel of his saddle. He grinned at Alain’s expression as Hedra sidled close to Ailim, and the grey charger gathered himself up to his full height, his head towering over the page and his delicate mare.
“Here now, what about your lovely Rose?” Gawain slapped Ailim on the neck and chided him.
“She is there, and this one is here,” Ailim said simply with his unique horse logic.
“Well, enough, we have no time for your dalliances. Think with the brain in your head,” Gawain said shortly and touched the sleek grey sides with his spurs.
Ailim snorted his disagreement but moved away from the chestnut mare without any more protest and cantered back to his place behind Lancelot and Eldon. Gawain gnawed away at the tough travel bread and hard cheese washed down with a good many swallows of the barely passable wine.
“Such a shame to treat good wine in such a manner; travel in the heat and in a skin does nothing for the bouquet.”
Ailim snorted with disgust as his only reply.
The day wore on, and Gawain was starting to think the distance they had to travel to reach Castle Arbray was miscalculated. His head ached dully, and white lights danced before his eyes again. He dropped Ailim’s reins on his heavy neck and grasped the pommel of the saddle in both hands to keep from falling as the world began to reel around him. Ailim sensed his distress and slowed his gait to a walk, falling out of formation again.
Visions whirled before Gawain’s eyes. The girl, who was the Lady Nuina but called herself Ash something or other and the strange horse that spoke with Ailim’s voice but was not Ailim, swam in and out of his sight. They kept calling him by a strange name, and there was a feeling in the middle of his chest as if they were trying to draw his soul out of his body.
Desperately Gawain clamped down on his wandering thoughts and forced himself to concentrate on the feel of the saddle under his buttocks and the pommel cutting into his hands. Ailim stopped unnoticed beneath him as Gawain struggled to stay upright while the pain in his head sought to cleave him in two. He forced himself to draw deep breaths into his lungs, and gradually the visions faded and the lights disappeared. Gawain cautiously opened his eyes and was pleased to see that the earth and the sky were where they were supposed to be, and his body was still upright on his war horse, not splayed out on the ground like a senseless ninny.
“Did you have another turn?” Lancelot’s concerned voice brought Gawain fully back to the present.
“Aye, that damn blow to the head is causing me grief again.” Gawain admitted to his trusted friend.
“When we get back to Cadbury, you must have the leech look at it. Mayhap the man can cast out the ill humours for you.” Lancelot rested his hand lightly on Gawain’s arm.
“Gods willing, it will be gone by the time we return to Cadbury. The last time the blasted man bled me until I thought I had no blood left in me. It is not something I wish to repeat if I can avoid it,” Gawain retorted. “Come let us catch up with Arthur. I am feeling quite well again.”
Arthur turned a questioning gaze on Lancelot as he and Gawain cantered up the column and took up their assigned places once more. Lancelot signalled all was well, and Arthur increased his pace chasing the sun into the south western sky.