10

The Winner of the Quest

The news of the abduction of Princess Elaine stirred the Kingdom of Camelot into fierce activity. Sir Gwin, in charge of the battle forces, summoned all his lieutenants. They, in turn, rode at once to procure their followers.

King Dion and the queen were distraught.

While they waited in their quarters for word to come from Sir Gwin, Queen Mauve went to the window and looked down on the court. She saw the stir below, knights readying their armament, stablemen grooming their horses, and everywhere people whispering and buzzing in small groups. She turned away from the scene and said, “What will come of all this? How could he do it?”

King Dion looked older than his years. His dark blue eyes were weary, for he had been up all night talking with his council, and his shoulders were stooped. “He did it very cleverly. Actually, we have no word from Melchior. It's his lieutenant, Sir Baloc, who's done the thing.”

A shiver went over the queen's shoulders. She clasped her hands and closed her eyes. “Baloc! I hate that man! He's so cruel.” She stood before the king, who was slumped in a chair. “But how could he hope to get away with it? He must know that it will mean war.”

“I don't know, but I suspect that he'll take refuge with Melchior. Then Melchior will expect us to come in and begin hostilities, and then he'll have his excuse to attack.”

“But he can't be that powerful, can he? I mean . . .” The queen hesitated. “He can't defeat our army, can he, dear?”

Dion sighed heavily, then got to his feet and took her hands. “I honestly don't know. A few years ago, I would have said no, but something has been happening to our kingdom. It's like a . . . a shadow is falling over it! It gets darker almost every day.”

Mauve stared up at him. “Do you think it's the Dark Lord?”

“Elendar thinks so. He tried to get me to take action years ago, but I was a fool and wouldn't listen to him. And now it's a question of whether we'll be strong enough to stand against Melchior's powers. I wish—”

A knock sounded at the door, and Queen Mauve said, “Come in.”

Sir Gwin marched in, an excited, serious look on his face. “We have a message, Your Majesty, from Sir Baloc.”

The king and queen exchanged hurried glances. Then King Dion said, “What is the message?”

Sir Gwin slapped his hands together. “So arrogant! I'd like to get that fellow between my two hands. I'd squeeze his throat until his eyeballs popped.”

“Yes, yes, but what about the message? What about Elaine?” Queen Mauve demanded. “Is she all right?”

“For now, she is.” Sir Gwin nodded. “But that fellow Baloc, he's demanding that you give your permission for him to marry Elaine.”

“What!” King Dion straightened up, and fire leaped into his eyes. His hand went to where his sword should be, but he wasn't wearing it. “Why the man's insane!”

Queen Mauve asked, “What exactly was the message, Sir Gwin?”

“Oh, it was as arrogant as the man himself. He offered himself as a husband and made it plain that he felt you couldn't get a better son-in-law.”

“What are we going to do?” Mauve asked, putting her hand on her husband's arm. “Surely he can't mean it.”

“He probably does,” Dion said grimly. “It would be like giving Melchior a key to the castle gates. His lieutenant comes in as our son-in-law, and—once he's inside—his evil influence can work throughout all our guards, all our knights. The first thing you know, he's perverted them, and they're ready to go over to Melchior's side.” He beat his hand against the wall. “Then the Dark Lord would have it all.”

Sir Gwin hesitated, then said, “He did add one more thing to his ‘offer.’”

“And what was that?”

“He said that he will not set Elaine free until a challenger comes. That's what he would like. We send a challenger over, he tricks him—whoever it is—claims the victory, and then claims Princess Elaine.”

“Just the sort of thing he would do. The trouble is,” King Dion said slowly, “I'm not sure we're strong enough to go to war.”

“You're right there, Your Majesty. It would be a close thing. We might win, but the dead would be a mighty list of our best men.”

Queen Mauve was staring at her husband. Finally she asked, “Are you thinking of sending a challenger, dear?”

King Dion's eyes were half shut. He was past his youth, but his mind was as keen as ever. “Yes,” he said suddenly “I think we must.”

“But what if the challenger is defeated?”

“If he is, then we go after her with everything we've got,” the king answered grimly. “But there's just one chance in a thousand that somehow we'll be able to do this through the quest and the challenge.”

“Let me go. Your Majesty,” Sir Gwin exclaimed. “I would be honored to take the task upon myself.”

With a fond glance at his lieutenant the king slowly shook his head. “Not this time, Sir Gwin. Let it be known that the challenger who will take up Baloc's challenge will be chosen by lot. Every knight who wishes will have an opportunity.”

“Is that wise, Sire?” Sir Gwin asked, a worried frown on his face. “After all, in a situation like that, the name of one of our knights of lesser ability might be drawn.”

“I'm sure only the more able knights will volunteer. But more important—I'm not much of a believer in impulses, but this thought has come to me very strongly.” He stroked his beard and looked down at the floor for a long moment. Finally he lifted his eyes. “I believe this idea was given to me somehow. I certainly would never have thought of it myself.”

Queen Mauve asked, “Do you think it might be some sort of message from Goel?”

“I'm not sure, but the thought came to me so strongly that I feel we must try it.” He turned to Sir Gwin. “Call the council together. They will argue, but I will carry them. You will at once prepare to carry out the name drawing. It must be open and aboveboard—no trickery.”

“Certainly not, Your Majesty,” Sir Gwin said rather indignantly “I myself will see to the integrity of it all.”

As soon as he was gone, King Dion put his arms around his wife. “I'm not at all sure about this. Things seem so confused.”

“Yes, I know, dear.” She reached up and stroked his cheek. “I wish we were back in those days when the Dark Lord had no hold on our kingdom.”

King Dion straightened himself to his full height. “We will see those days again. I feel it in my bones!”

* * *

“Well, all the knights in the kingdom who want to have put their names in the lottery,” Josh said. “Have you talked to the king about this, Elendar?”

“Yes.” The old man was staring out a window.

He had sent for Josh, and the two talked long about the significance of Elaine's abduction. Elendar had said at once, “It's the first move on Melchior's part to break the Sword of Camelot and bring the realm under his control.”

Now he turned to look Josh in the eye. “I've talked to the king about it. He's very stubborn, more stubborn than I've ever seen him. He says that this thing didn't come from his own heart, that it just—flashed into his mind. That's the way he put it.”

“What do you think, Elendar?”

“I think he may be right. Open war would be disastrous right now. Until we can build up our forces, I'm not ready to meet Melchior in all-out warfare. This scheme—if it is of Goel—will be better than that.”

“Well,” Josh said, “I think we'd better be getting over to the arena for the name drawing. It's almost noon.”

“Yes, and I don't mind admitting I'm a little bit nervous about the whole thing.”

They made their way from the upper story of the castle, down a winding set of stairs, then outside, and walked to the open field. It was filled with people.

“It looks like they're ready to draw the name,” Elendar said quietly. “Come, let's stand closer.”

Because of his authority, Elendar pressed through the crowd. People gave way before him, most of them bowing, and Josh stayed close by his side. Soon they were right below the platform where the king and queen were seated.

Sir Gwin stood before a large oak box. He looked very nervous and kept stroking his mustache with a hand that was not quite steady.

“Sound the trumpet,” the king commanded, and the brazen voice of the instrument smote the air.

“Hear ye! Hear ye! His Majesty, King Dion of Camelot, will now address his subjects.”

King Dion rose, bowed to Queen Mauve, then faced the crowd. “My loving subjects,” he said rather quietly, but his voice carried over the large field, “I need not tell you of the crisis that has come upon us. You are all aware that our daughter is being held captive. You are also aware that, unless a challenger goes forth to meet Sir Baloc, we will be forced to go to war.”

He hesitated. Then his eyes met those of Elendar, and the hoary head of the old man nodded slightly in encouragement. This seemed to help the king, and he raised his voice. “I believe I have been given direction to hold a drawing to select the knight who is to challenge Melchior. Every volunteer has put his name on a slip of paper. Those slips have been in this box and have been guarded by my chief of knights, Sir Gwin. We are now ready to draw that name.”

The king moved down to the box, stood over it, and said, “I, myself, will draw the name so that there will be no charge of favoritism or of dishonesty.”

A hush fell over the crowd, and Josh stared at the king as he bent over the box. He hesitated after reaching into the chest, as though he were sorting through the pieces of paper. Then he drew out a slip and looked at it.

What he saw seemed to turn the king to stone, for he did not move a muscle. A light wind blew his white hair about his neck beneath the crown, as every ear in the crowd strained to hear the name he would read.

King Dion looked up, his eyes searching the throng. “The knight who has been chosen is . . .”

Everyone seemed to lean forward on tiptoe, waiting.

And then King Dion turned to look straight at the Seven Sleepers. “The knight who is chosen is Sir Reb.”

A gasp went up. Several knights frowned and began to grumble, but King Dion looked at them sternly, and they grew silent. The king said, “Sir Reb, come forward.”

Reb was the most surprised person in the arena. His mind was almost a blank. He could not believe this. He had put his name on a slip of paper, but never once had it occurred to him that he might be chosen. Coming to stand before the king, he saw something in the king's expression that he could not define.

King Dion said, “Are you ready to assume this quest, Sir Reb?”

And then, Bob Lee Jackson stood straight and tall. “Yes, Your Majesty. I don't stake no claim to being the strongest or the best—but you can bet I'll do all I can to save Princess Elaine!”