The Lioness and Her Knight (2 page)

Luneta's mother got a reply from her friend, the Lady Laudine, inviting Luneta to come for a visit as soon as she was able and to stay as long as she wished, so all was set, but still Luneta was stuck at Orkney Hall. At the end of the third week, though, something happened that changed their plans. Her father returned from the fields early one day, and with him rode a young knight. Luneta, who had been crossing the castle courtyard when they arrived, could only stop and stare, because this knight was unquestionably the most handsome young man she had ever seen. He had long reddish-blond hair tied behind his head, and a firm, smooth chin. His eyes were a piercing blue, and he wore his armor with assurance and grace. He was smiling at something that Luneta's father had said as they approached, and his smile only improved his looks. Luneta's mouth opened, but she caught herself and closed it again before the two men looked at her.

"Ah, Luneta," her father said. "Allow me to present to you your cousin."

"My cousin?" Luneta said, with surprise and a trace of disappointment.

"Isn't that a bit vague, Cousin Gaheris?" the young knight said, still smiling. "I mean, shouldn't we specify second or third cousin, twice removed, or something?"

Luneta's father grinned. "Maybe, but I've forgotten how to do it. Let's see now, your grandfather Uriens was my father's first cousin, which makes you my..."

They looked at each other for a moment, frowning. Then the young knight said, "Cousin. Good enough." He turned to Luneta and said, "My name is Ywain."

"Oh, I've heard of you!" Luneta exclaimed. Then she frowned. "But I thought you were older."

"Older than what?" Luneta's father asked, dismounting.

"Older than he is," Luneta said.

Luneta's father said, "But you see he isn't. In fact, he is exactly as old as he is."

"You know what I mean. Wasn't Sir Ywain one of King Arthur's earliest knights?"

"That was my father," Ywain said, lowering himself from his horse. "I have the same name, which is no fun at all, let me tell you."

"I know just what you mean," Luneta said. "It's a sad trial to be named for a parent."

"How would you know?" Luneta's father said. "Why don't you run inside and tell your mother that we have a guest for the evening?"

"I do too know," Luneta snapped. "You named me for my mother, even if you did change a few letters." Luneta looked at Ywain and explained, "My mother is named Lynet, and I'm Luneta."

"Don't be ridiculous, child," Luneta's father said, a lofty expression on his face. "The similarity of your names is a mere coincidence. In fact, I named you for a dog I had when I was a child." He smiled reminiscently. "Sweetest little brachet I ever owned."

"You named me for a dog?" Luneta gasped.

"Yes, but it didn't work," her father replied with a sigh. "The dog used to do what I told her to."

Luneta caught the slight tremor in his voice and knew that he was teasing her, and she scowled at him. She didn't mind teasing—much—but not in front of strangers. With a toss of her head, she stalked inside to tell her mother about their guest.

Ywain, Luneta discovered at dinner that night, had only dropped by for a short visit before leaving for Camelot. His father had retired from court life some years before and taken up residence at the family estate in Scotland. Young Ywain had grown up there, nearly as far away from the center of civilization as Luneta herself, and his feelings about his childhood in exile were exactly like Luneta's. "I couldn't take it anymore," he admitted. "Trotting around the fields on great chargers that ought to be leading the way in battle, polishing armor that never gets used."

"Don't you have any tournaments in Scotland now?" Luneta's father asked.

Ywain shrugged. "Oh, a few. But they're so far away from court that no one famous ever competes in them, and after you've won them all three years in a row, they don't seem like much anymore." He broke off abruptly, and his face turned scarlet. "Oh, dear," he said. "I sounded like a terrible coxcomb just then, didn't I? I really didn't mean to."

"Ay, you did, that," Luneta's father drawled pleasantly, "but I don't doubt you. I'm not much for the knightly arts myself, but I've spent enough time around great warriors to know when someone has the gift. I'd say you do."

Ywain flushed again, but he looked gratified. "Well, that's what Cousin Gawain said. He stopped by to visit last time he came up to see you, and we sparred a bit. He said ... he said I wasn't so bad. Anyway, that's why I'm off to Camelot. I want to find out just how good I really am, to measure myself against real knights."

Luneta's mother rolled her eyes very, very slightly, but her father only smiled tolerantly and said, "Well, I hope you find what you're looking for at court."

"But that's it!" Luneta said suddenly.

"What's what?" Luneta's mother asked.

"Ywain can escort me to Camelot!" Luneta said quickly. "Then you won't have to leave during the planting—"

"I wasn't planning to," Luneta's father reminded her.

"—or even after the planting's done! Ywain can take me as far as Camelot, and you can write a letter to send along with me to Uncle Gawain, and he can take me to Salisbury to your friend's home when he's able to get away." Part of Luneta's mind was already weaving plans for extending her time at Camelot once she arrived, but with the rest of her attention she was watching her parents' faces.

Before either could speak, Ywain said, "But that sounds delightful! Were you already planning a trip to court? I would be honored to take you with me!"

Luneta's mother looked grim, but Luneta could tell that her father was turning the idea over in his mind, and her hopes rose.

"I don't like it, Gary," Luneta's mother said. "It isn't seemly for a girl that young to travel so far alone with a young man."

"He's my cousin, Mother," Luneta said. "How could that be unseemly?"

"A very distant cousin, my dear."

Luneta changed her tactics. Allowing her face to fall, she said, "I see. You don't trust Cousin Ywain."

"Now, Luneta, that's not what I meant!" her mother said hastily.

"Then what do you mean, Mother?" Luneta asked, making her eyes as wide and innocent as she could.

Luneta's mother stared at her for a moment, but then the little wrinkles at the corners of her eyes appeared, and she looked at Luneta's father. "She's good, isn't she?"

"Best I've seen," her father admitted.

"And if I say that I don't think it's safe for her to travel with only one knight..."

"She'll remind us of all those tournaments that Ywain has won," her father said. Luneta kept her eyes wide, forcing herself not to smile. In fact, that was exactly the reply that she had planned to use.

Her father said, "She might even manage to remind us that I'm not so handy with a sword myself and hint that she would be safer traveling with Ywain than with us. And, in truth, she would be right. In the unlikely event of danger on the road, I feel sure that Ywain would be much more protection than I would be."

At this point, Ywain spoke up. "I would take the very best care of my cousin. That I promise you both."

"And you don't think she would be a nuisance?" Luneta's mother asked.

Ywain grinned impishly. "To be honest, I would very much like to have her along. I'm sure it's childish, but I can't help thinking that with a lady at my side I'll look like a knight on a quest and not like any other untried knight going off to try his mettle."

Luneta's mother chuckled suddenly and said to her husband, "I' faith, Gary, I like this cousin of yours." She looked back at Ywain. "Your frankness does you credit, Ywain. All right. Take her along with you, but even if she makes you feel like a questing knight, no questing along the way, do you hear?"

"You have my word," Ywain said, and Luneta gave him her brightest, most dazzling smile.

All in all, Luneta had gotten her way much more easily than she had expected. She was especially surprised at how easily her mother had agreed. Knowing that her mother was a dictatorial, controlling woman who never liked any idea that Luneta had, her acquiescence seemed strangely out of character. All Luneta could imagine was that her mother hadn't wanted to show her real self before a guest. Whatever the reason, though, it had all worked beautifully, and Luneta could not help congratulating herself on how well she had managed everyone.

That evening was spent packing, which was a horrible experience, since her mother's notions of what colors and styles were acceptable for a young girl at court were positively antiquated. Several times Luneta had to bite back angry comments. Only the reflection that her mother could very easily withdraw her permission for this journey enabled Luneta to endure in silence the sight of all her most insipid clothes being folded and packed. She could always get rid of those whites and pale blues once she was there. Maybe Lady Laudine's dressmaker could make her a bright red silk dress.

Luneta and Ywain set off the next morning. The parting was awkward. Luneta was angry to discover a lump in her throat and to feel the ominous presence of tears just out of sight. She set her face in a severe expression so as to maintain control of her emotions and mounted her horse beside Ywain. "Well?" she asked gruffly. "Are we leaving today or not?"

"Let your escort get mounted, my dear," Luneta's mother said in an abrupt voice. Luneta allowed herself to glance at her mother, whose face was austere. Ywain mounted and took courteous leave of his host and hostess while Luneta tightened her jaw and looked at her parents.

Luneta's father glanced from mother to daughter, then sighed and said, "I'll miss you, lass. Try not to turn Lady Laudine's castle upside down. Perhaps we'll drop by for a visit someday soon."

Then they rode off—a knight, a lady, and a packhorse for Luneta's gear. Ywain didn't speak for nearly half an hour, for which Luneta was grateful, because by the time he made his first comment—a polite gambit about the scenery—she was fully in control of herself. They made good time, riding at an easy pace but stopping seldom. Ywain was a courteous and thoughtful companion, and if his conversation was rather heavily concerned with tournaments and feats of arms, he was not self-absorbed. Twice he broke off and, laughing ruefully at himself, apologized for prattling about arms and armor. They camped that night nearly forty miles from Orkney Hall, and Ywain told Luneta before they went to sleep that now that he'd seen that she was a fine horsewoman, they could go a bit faster the next day.

On the second day, just as Luneta's stiffness from riding all the day before was easing, she and Ywain came upon a large pavilion set up in a field. There were horses tied at one side, marking this as a knight's encampment, and servants hurried about on evidently urgent errands. At the center of the bustle, under the main tent, a knight lay on a pile of pillows, surrounded by attendants. At his left was a sniffling lady, wearing a dress of the most dashing shade of pink and holding a handkerchief in one hand and a vinaigrette in the other. On the knight's right, a tall man in multicolored clothes was tossing a small ball up in the air and catching it in one hand.

"Of course it's juggling," the man in motley was saying as Ywain and Luneta approached. "You know what your problem is, Sir Grenall? You've been seduced by the lure of spectacle. Sure, I could juggle three or four balls and use two hands, and that would be very impressive, but then what would I do after that? Five balls? Three hands? You see how it goes? Now me, I'm an artist, trying to recapture the original purity of the art form. This"—the man nodded at the ball he was tossing up and down—"this is the essence of juggling."

"Yes, yes," the knight said absently, his attention focused on the approach of Ywain and Luneta. "Good morrow, Sir Knight," he called.

"Is it morrow already?" the man in motley exclaimed. "I wasn't even done with yesterd!"

"With what?" the knight asked, his brow creased. Luneta suppressed a smile.

"Good day, Sir Knight," Ywain said, inclining his head courteously.

"Forgive me for not rising to meet you," the knight said from his pillows, turning away from the juggler. "You see, I have been grievously wounded."

At these words, the lady at the man's right burst into gusty sobs and buried her face in her handkerchief.

The man in motley glanced at her, then tossed his ball up and caught it in his other hand. "There," he said. "See what I did, my lady? To cheer you up I juggled with two hands. I just compromised my artistic principles for your sake. I hope you will applaud now. I couldn't bear to have made such a sacrifice for nothing."

The lady ignored him. "Oh,
poor
Sir Grenall."

"No, no, my lady," the man said earnestly. "You've gotten them confused. It was Sir Lorigan who was poor. Sir Grenall is very rich."

"Silence, fool," said Sir Grenall from his pillows. Now that they were near, Luneta could see the knight and the lady more clearly. The lady was very young, perhaps only a year or two older than Luneta herself, and the knight was at least forty. The fool—who looked to be in his early twenties—caught the ball and stowed it in a pouch at his side.

"I know when I'm not appreciated. I'll have you know that when I performed in York, I had them all in tears of laughter, even the old men." He smiled pleasantly at the lady, who was still weeping quietly into her handkerchief. "You'd have liked it, my lady—all those old men, I mean."

"Silence, fool," Sir Grenall said, an edge to his voice.

Ywain finally spoke. "I am sorry that you have been injured, Sir ... Grenall, is it?"

"Sir Grenall of the Firth," the knight said jovially, settling himself more comfortably on the cushions. He didn't sound like someone who had been grievously injured, Luneta thought.

Ywain must have been thinking the same thing, because he said, "Er ... how exactly are you injured, Sir Grenall?"

"Ah," said the fool, "you've been misled by my master's courage. You were wondering how someone who seemed so comfortable could be injured, but I tell you that it is all an act. Sir Grenall is so brave that he will not let his pain show."