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Authors: Gerald Morris
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would see him again, and disappeared in a twinkling. Bemused, Lynet turned and walked slowly back toward bed.
Not twenty yards from the camp, however, near a small stream, Lynet heard a splash, followed by an unmistakable sigh. She stopped in her tracks and shrank into the shelter of a holly bush. A moment later, she heard another sigh. Cautiously, she peered around the shrubbery, then ducked back into its cover, surprised and embarrassed. Kneeling by a small pool was a tall, angular young man, naked but for a small cloth wrapped around his loins. His shoulders were broad and his arms were muscular, but he was stooped and weary-looking. He had reddish blond hair, cropped short over his face.
It was the young man's face that struck Lynet most forcefully, for even in her brief look she had seen an infinitely deep sadness. His shaded eyes and gaunt
cheeks spoke of a sorrow greater than any such young man should have to know. She was about to take one more look when the sound of receding footsteps told her that the young man had left. She forced herself to wait quietly for ten long minutes, until she was sure he would be gone, then she hurried back to camp. Just before she wrapped up in her blankets to return to sleepâif indeed she had not been dreaming this whole timeâshe remembered why she had left the camp and looked quickly across at Roger's bed. The dwarf was there, sound asleep.
Breakfast the next morning was quiet. Beaumains never talked very much, Lynet was preoccupied with her cloudy memories of her nighttime visit with Robin and of the strange young man by the stream, and even Roger seemed unusually solemn. To make matters worse, breakfast itself was skimpy. On the packhorse that Sir Kai had brought, there had been a neat package of provisions, but traveling was hungry work, and they had finished off all but a few scraps at supper the night before. Lynet did not say anything, but remembering her hunger on the way to Camelot, she was not looking forward to the day's ride.
A few hours later, though, just as the first sharp pangs of hunger began to intrude on her thoughts, Lynet smelled a delicious aroma of seasoned meat over a fire. Riding over a small hill, she saw a slight
figure in the neat garb of a squire kneeling over an open spit, turning the brown carcasses of three large rabbits.
"Hello, travelers. Come join my meal," the young man called.
"Blast!" Roger muttered.
"What's wrong, Roger?" asked Lynet.
"I know that fellow. That's Sir Gawain's squire, as uncanny a chap as you'll ever meet."
"Terence?" Lynet asked, with surprise and delight.
"Oh, you've met.'" Roger asked.
"Only briefly," Lynet said. "He seemed nice enough at court."
"Ay, he's nice enough. But he sees a sight more than most. If you've any secrets, you may as well tell him now and save yourself the bother." Again, Roger swore softly.
Beaumains reacted most strongly of all to Terence's sudden appearance. Beaumains had been carrying his helm loosely under one arm, but at Roger's words he quickly placed it on his head and lowered the visor over his face. "Woman! Dwarf! I command that thou revealest not my name to this lackey!"
Lynet did not care for being called "Woman!" and she resented still more being ordered about by Beaumains, but before she could retort, Roger said soothingly, "Nay, my lady. Don't fight useless battles."
Turning to Beaumains, Roger said, "Calm down, Beau. We don't know your name, remember?"
Lynet hardly had time to wonder why Beaumains was so afraid of Terence, whom he must have seen hundreds of times at Camelot, when they were upon Terence's camp. "Hello, Squire Terence," Lynet said. "I am very glad to see you."
The squire's eyes laughed. "And so are your two friends, I perceive." Lynet glanced at Roger's glowering face and Beaumains's stiff and silent form, and she giggled. Terence continued. "The chap in armor is Beaumains, I suppose. And your other friend is?"
"This is my good friend Roger, who is
Not twenty yards from the camp, however, near a small stream, Lynet heard a splash, followed by an unmistakable sigh. She stopped in her tracks and shrank into the shelter of a holly bush. A moment later, she heard another sigh. Cautiously, she peered around the shrubbery, then ducked back into its cover, surprised and embarrassed. Kneeling by a small pool was a tall, angular young man, naked but for a small cloth wrapped around his loins. His shoulders were broad and his arms were muscular, but he was stooped and weary-looking. He had reddish blond hair, cropped short over his face.
It was the young man's face that struck Lynet most forcefully, for even in her brief look she had seen an infinitely deep sadness. His shaded eyes and gaunt
cheeks spoke of a sorrow greater than any such young man should have to know. She was about to take one more look when the sound of receding footsteps told her that the young man had left. She forced herself to wait quietly for ten long minutes, until she was sure he would be gone, then she hurried back to camp. Just before she wrapped up in her blankets to return to sleepâif indeed she had not been dreaming this whole timeâshe remembered why she had left the camp and looked quickly across at Roger's bed. The dwarf was there, sound asleep.
Breakfast the next morning was quiet. Beaumains never talked very much, Lynet was preoccupied with her cloudy memories of her nighttime visit with Robin and of the strange young man by the stream, and even Roger seemed unusually solemn. To make matters worse, breakfast itself was skimpy. On the packhorse that Sir Kai had brought, there had been a neat package of provisions, but traveling was hungry work, and they had finished off all but a few scraps at supper the night before. Lynet did not say anything, but remembering her hunger on the way to Camelot, she was not looking forward to the day's ride.
A few hours later, though, just as the first sharp pangs of hunger began to intrude on her thoughts, Lynet smelled a delicious aroma of seasoned meat over a fire. Riding over a small hill, she saw a slight
figure in the neat garb of a squire kneeling over an open spit, turning the brown carcasses of three large rabbits.
"Hello, travelers. Come join my meal," the young man called.
"Blast!" Roger muttered.
"What's wrong, Roger?" asked Lynet.
"I know that fellow. That's Sir Gawain's squire, as uncanny a chap as you'll ever meet."
"Terence?" Lynet asked, with surprise and delight.
"Oh, you've met.'" Roger asked.
"Only briefly," Lynet said. "He seemed nice enough at court."
"Ay, he's nice enough. But he sees a sight more than most. If you've any secrets, you may as well tell him now and save yourself the bother." Again, Roger swore softly.
Beaumains reacted most strongly of all to Terence's sudden appearance. Beaumains had been carrying his helm loosely under one arm, but at Roger's words he quickly placed it on his head and lowered the visor over his face. "Woman! Dwarf! I command that thou revealest not my name to this lackey!"
Lynet did not care for being called "Woman!" and she resented still more being ordered about by Beaumains, but before she could retort, Roger said soothingly, "Nay, my lady. Don't fight useless battles."
Turning to Beaumains, Roger said, "Calm down, Beau. We don't know your name, remember?"
Lynet hardly had time to wonder why Beaumains was so afraid of Terence, whom he must have seen hundreds of times at Camelot, when they were upon Terence's camp. "Hello, Squire Terence," Lynet said. "I am very glad to see you."
The squire's eyes laughed. "And so are your two friends, I perceive." Lynet glanced at Roger's glowering face and Beaumains's stiff and silent form, and she giggled. Terence continued. "The chap in armor is Beaumains, I suppose. And your other friend is?"
"This is my good friend Roger, who is
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