“You’re right what you say there, Axl. More playful than evil. I suppose you’re right. Even so, husband …” She fell silent while she negotiated her way between two ancient trunks pressing against each other. Then she said: “Even so, when we go back, I want a candle for our nights. I don’t want that sprite or any other bringing us something worse.”
“We’ll see to it, don’t worry, princess. We’ll talk to the pastor as soon as we return. But the monks at the monastery will give you wise advice about your pain, and there’ll be no lasting mischief done.”
“I know it, Axl. It’s not a thing to worry me greatly.”
It was hard to say if Wistan had been right about his path cutting off a corner, but in any case, shortly after midday, they emerged out of the woods back onto the main road. Here it was wheel-rutted and boggy in parts, but now they could walk more freely, and in time the path grew drier and more level. With a pleasant sun falling through the overhanging branches, they travelled in good spirits.
Then Wistan brought them to a halt again and indicated the ground before them. “There’s a solitary rider not far before us,” he said. And they did not go much further before they saw ahead of them a clearing to the side of their road, and fresh tracks turning into it. Exchanging glances, they stepped forwards cautiously.
As the clearing came more into view, they saw it was of a fair size: perhaps once, in more prosperous times, someone had hoped to build a house here with a surrounding orchard. The path leading off from the main road, though overgrown, had been dug with care, ending in a large circular area, open to the sky except for one huge spreading oak at its centre. From where they now stood, they could see a figure seated in the shadows of the tree, his back against the trunk. He was for the moment in profile to them, and appeared to be in armour: two metal legs stuck out stiffly onto the grass in a childlike way. The face itself was obscured by foliage sprouting from the bark, though they could see he wore no helmet. A saddled horse was grazing contentedly nearby.
“Declare who you are!” the man called out from under the tree. “All bandits and thieves I’ll rise to meet sword in hand!”
“Answer him, Master Axl,” Wistan whispered. “Let’s discover what he’s about.”
“We’re simple wayfarers, sir,” Axl called back. “We wish only to go by in peace.”
“How many are you? And is that a horse I hear?”
“A limping one, sir. Otherwise we are four. My wife and I being elderly Britons, and with us a beardless boy and a half-wit mute lately given us by their Saxon kin.”
“Then come over to me, friends! I have bread here to share, and you must long for rest, as I do for your company.”
“Shall we go to him, Axl?” Beatrice asked.
“I say we do,” Wistan said, before Axl could respond. “He’s no danger to us and sounds a man of decent years. All the same, let’s perform our drama as before. I’ll once more affect a slack jaw and foolish eyes.”
“But this man is armoured and armed, sir,” Beatrice said. “Are you certain your own weapon is ready enough, packed on a horse amidst blankets and honey pots?”
“It’s well my sword’s hidden from suspicious eyes, mistress. And I’ll find it soon enough when I need it. Young Edwin will hold the rein and see the mare doesn’t stray too far from me.”
“Come forth, friends!” the stranger shouted, not adjusting his rigid posture. “No harm will come to you! I’m a knight and a Briton too. Armed, it’s true, but come closer and you’ll see I’m just a whiskery old fool. This sword and armour I carry only out of duty to my king, the great and beloved Arthur, now many years in heaven, and it’s almost as long surely since I drew in anger. My old battlehorse, Horace, you see him there. He’s had to suffer the burden of all this metal. Look at him, his legs bowed, back sunk. Oh, I know how much he suffers each time I mount. But he has a great heart, my Horace, and I know he’d have it no other way. We’ll travel like this, in full armour, in the name of our great king, and will do so till neither of us can take another step. Come friends, don’t fear me!”
They turned into the clearing, and as they approached the oak, Axl saw that indeed, the knight was no threatening figure. He appeared to be very tall, but beneath his armour Axl supposed him thin, if wiry. His armour was frayed and rusted, though no doubt he had done all he could to preserve it. His tunic, once white, showed repeated mending. The face protruding from the armour was kindly and creased; above it, several long strands of snowy hair fluttered from an otherwise bald head. He might have been a sorry sight, fixed to the ground, legs splayed before him, except that the sun falling through the branches above was now dappling him in patterns of light and shade that made him look almost like one enthroned.
“Poor Horace missed his breakfast this morning, for we were on rocky ground when we awoke. Then I was so keen to press on all morning, and I admit it, in an ill temper. I wouldn’t let him stop. His steps grew slower, but I know his tricks well enough by now, and would have none of it. I know you’re not weary! I told him, and gave him a little spur. These tricks he plays on me, friends, I won’t stand for them! But slower and slower he goes, and soft-hearted fool I am, even knowing full well he’s laughing to himself, I relent and say, very well, Horace, stop and feed yourself. So here you find me, taken for a fool again. Come, join me, friends.” He reached forward, his armour complaining, and removed a loaf from a sack in the grass before him. “This is fresh baked, given to me passing a mill not an hour ago. Come, friends, sit beside me and share it.”
Axl held Beatrice’s arm as she lowered herself down onto the gnarled roots of the oak, then he sat down himself between his wife and the old knight. He felt immediately grateful for the mossy bark behind him, the songbirds jostling above, and when the bread was passed, it was soft and fresh. Beatrice leant her head against his shoulder, and her chest rose and fell for a while before she too began to eat with relish.
But Wistan had not sat down. After giggling, and otherwise amply displaying his idiocy to the old knight, he had wandered away to where Edwin was standing in the tall grass, holding his mare. Then Beatrice, finishing her bread, sat forward to address the stranger.
“You must forgive my not greeting you sooner, sir,” she said. “But it’s not often we see a knight and I was awe-struck by the thought. I hope you weren’t offended.”
“Not offended at all, mistress, and glad of your company. Is your journey still a long one?”
“Our son’s village is another day away now we’re come by the mountain road, wishing to visit a wise monk at the monastery in these hills.”
“Ah, the holy fathers. I’m sure they’ll receive you kindly. They were a great help to Horace last spring when he had a poisoned hoof and I feared he wouldn’t be spared. And I myself, recovering some years ago from a fall, found much comfort in their balms. But if you seek a cure for your mute, I fear it’s only God himself can bring speech to his lips.”
The knight had said this glancing towards Wistan, only to find the latter walking towards him, the foolish look vanished from his features.
“Allow me then to surprise you, sir,” he said. “Speech is restored to me.”
The old knight started, then, armour creaking, twisted round to glare enquiringly at Axl.
“Don’t blame my friends, sir knight,” Wistan said. “They were only doing as I begged them. But now there’s no cause to fear you, I would cast off my disguise. Please forgive me.”
“I don’t mind, sir,” the old knight said, “for it’s as well in this world to be cautious. But tell me now what sort you are that I in turn have no cause to fear you.”
“The name is Wistan, sir, from the fenlands in the east, travelling these parts on my king’s errand.”
“Ah. Far from home indeed.”
“Far from home, sir, and these roads should be strange to me. Yet at each turn it’s as if another distant memory stirs.”
“It must be then, sir, you came this way before.”
&
nbsp; “It must be so, and I heard I was born not in the fens but in a country further west of here. All the more fortunate then to chance upon you, sir, supposing you might be Sir Gawain, from those same western lands, well known to ride in these parts.”
“I’m Gawain, right enough, nephew of the great Arthur who once ruled these lands with such wisdom and justice. I was settled many years in the west, but these days Horace and I travel where we may.”
“If my hours were my own, I’d ride west this very day and breathe the air of that country. But I’m obliged to complete my errand and hurry back with news of it. Yet it’s an honour indeed to meet a knight of the great Arthur, and a nephew at that. Saxon though I am, his name is one I hold in esteem.”
“I take pleasure in hearing you say so, sir.”
“Sir Gawain, with my speech so miraculously restored, I would ask a small question of you.”
“Ask freely.”
“This gentleman now sits beside you, he’s the good Master Axl, a farmer from a Christian village two days away. A man of familiar years to yourself. Sir Gawain, I ask you now, turn and look carefully at him. Is his face one you’ve seen before, though a long time ago?”
“Good heavens, Master Wistan!” Beatrice, who Axl thought had fallen asleep, was leaning forward again. “What is this you ask?”
“I mean no harm, mistress. Sir Gawain being from the west country, I fancy he might have glimpsed your husband in days past. What harm’s in it?”
“Master Wistan,” Axl said, “I’ve seen you look strangely at me from time to time since our first meeting, and waited for some account of it. What is it you believe me to be?”
Wistan, who had been standing over where they were sitting three abreast beneath the great oak, now crouched down onto his heels. Perhaps he had done so to appear less challenging, but to Axl it was almost as if the warrior was wishing to scrutinise their faces more closely.
“Let’s for now have Sir Gawain do as I ask,” Wistan said, “and it’s only a small turn of his head needed. See it as a childish game if you will. I beg you, sir, look at this man beside you and say if you’ve ever seen him in days past.”
Sir Gawain gave a chuckle, and moved his torso forward. He seemed eager for amusement, as though indeed he had just been invited to participate in a game. But as he gazed into Axl’s face, his expression changed to one of surprise—even of shock. Instinctively, Axl turned away, just as the old knight appeared almost to push himself backwards into the tree trunk.
“Well, sir?” Wistan asked, watching with interest.
“I don’t believe this gentleman and I met till today,” said Sir Gawain.
“Are you sure? The years can be a rich disguise.”
“Master Wistan,” Beatrice interrupted, “what is it you search for in my husband’s face? Why ask such a thing of this kind knight, until this moment a stranger to us all?”
“Forgive me, mistress. This country awakens so many memories, though each seems like some restless sparrow I know will flee any moment into the breeze. Your husband’s face has all day promised me an important remembrance, and if truth be told, that was a reason for my proposing to travel with you, though I sincerely wish to see you both safely through these wild roads.”
“But why would you know my husband from the west when he’s always lived in country nearby?”
“Never mind it, princess. Master Wistan has confused me for someone he once knew.”
“That’s what it must be, friends!” said Sir Gawain. “Horace and I often mistake a face for one from the past. See there, Horace, I say. That’s our old friend Tudur before us on the road, and we thought he fell at Mount Badon. Then we ride closer and Horace will give a snort, as if to say, what a fool you are, Gawain, this fellow’s young enough to be his grandson, and with not even a passing likeness!”
“Master Wistan,” Beatrice said, “tell me this much. Does my husband remind you of one you loved as a child? Or is it one you dreaded?”
“Best leave it now, princess.”
But Wistan, rocking gently on his heels, was gazing steadily at Axl. “I believe it must be one I loved, mistress. For when we met this morning, my heart leapt for joy. And yet before long …” He went on looking at Axl silently, his eyes almost dreamlike. Then his face darkened, and rising to his feet again, the warrior turned away. “I can’t answer you, Mistress Beatrice, for I know not myself. I supposed by travelling beside you the memories would awaken, but they’ve not yet done so. Sir Gawain, are you well?”
Indeed, Gawain had slumped forward. He now straightened and breathed a sigh. “Well enough, thank you for asking. Yet Horace and I have gone many nights without a soft bed or decent shelter, and we’re both weary. That’s all there is to it.” He raised his hand and caressed a spot on his forehead, though his real purpose, it occurred to Axl, might have been to obscure his view of the face beside him.
“Master Wistan,” Axl said, “since we’re now speaking frankly, perhaps I may in turn ask something of you. You say you’re in this country on your king’s errand. But why so anxious to adopt your disguise travelling through a country long settled in peace? If my wife and that poor boy are to travel beside you, we’d wish to know the full nature of our companion, and who his friends and enemies might be.”
“You speak fairly, sir. This country, as you say, is well settled and at peace. Yet here I am a Saxon crossing lands ruled by Britons, and in these parts by the Lord Brennus, whose guards roam boldly to gather their taxes of corn and livestock. I wish no quarrel of the sort may come from a misunderstanding. Hence my disguise, sir, and we’ll all of us move more safely for it.”
“You may be right, Master Wistan,” Axl said. “Yet I saw on the bridge Lord Brennus’s guards seemed not to be passing their time idly, but stationed there for a purpose, and if not for the mist clouding their minds, they might have tested you more closely. Can it be, sir, you’re some enemy to Lord Brennus?”
For a moment Wistan appeared lost in thought, following with his eyes one of the gnarled roots stretching from the oak’s trunk and past where he stood, before burrowing itself into the earth. Eventually he came nearer again, and this time sat down on the stubbled grass.
“Very well, sir,” he said, “I’ll speak fully. I don’t mind doing so before you and this fine knight. We’ve heard rumours in the east of our fellow Saxons across this land ill used by Britons. My king, worrying for his kin, sent me on this mission to observe the real state of affairs. That’s all I am, sir, and was going about my errand peaceably when my horse hurt her foot.”
“I understand well your position, sir,” said Gawain. “Horace and I often find ourselves on Saxon-governed land and feel the same need for caution. Then I wish to be rid of this armour and taken for a humble farmer. But if we left this metal somewhere, how would we ever find it again? And even though it’s years since Arthur fell, isn’t it our duty still to wear his crest with pride for all to see? So we go on boldly and when men see I’m a knight of Arthur, I’m happy to report they look on us gently.”
“It’s no surprise you’re welcomed in these parts, Sir Gawain,” Wistan said. “But can it really be the same in those countries where Arthur was once such a dreaded enemy?”
“Horace and I find our king’s name well received everywhere, sir, even in those countries you mention. For Arthur was one so generous to those he defeated they soon grew to love him as their own.”
For some time—in fact, ever since Arthur’s name had first been mentioned—a nagging, uneasy feeling had been troubling Axl. Now at last, as he listened to Wistan and the old knight talk, a fragment of memory came to him. It was not much, but it nevertheless brought him relief to have something to hold and examine. He remembered standing inside a tent, a large one of the sort an army will erect near a battlefield. It was night, and there was a heavy candle flickering, and the wind outside making the tent’s walls suck and billow. There were others in the tent with him. Several others, perhaps, but he could not remem
ber their faces. He, Axl, was angry about something, but he had understood the importance of hiding his anger at least for the time being.
“Master Wistan,” Beatrice was saying beside him, “let me tell you in our own village there are several Saxon families among the most respected. And you saw yourself the Saxon village from which we came today. Those people prosper, and though they sometimes suffer at the hands of fiends such as those you so bravely put down, it’s not by any Briton.”
“The good mistress speaks truly,” Sir Gawain said. “Our beloved Arthur brought lasting peace here between Briton and Saxon, and though we still hear of wars in distant places, here we’ve long been friends and kin.”
“All I’ve seen agree with your words,” Wistan said, “and I’m eager to carry back a happy report, though I’ve yet to see the lands beyond these hills. Sir Gawain, I don’t know if ever again I’ll be free to ask this of one so wise, so let me do so now. By what strange skill did your great king heal the scars of war in these lands that a traveller can see barely a mark or shadow left of them today?”
“The question does you credit, sir. My reply is that my uncle was a ruler never thought himself greater than God, and always prayed for guidance. So it was that the conquered, no less than those who fought at his side, saw his fairness and wished him as their king.”
“Even so, sir, isn’t it a strange thing when a man calls another brother who only yesterday slaughtered his children? And yet this is the very thing Arthur appears to have accomplished.”
“You touch the heart of it just there, Master Wistan. Slaughter children, you say. And yet Arthur charged us at all times to spare the innocents caught in the clatter of war. More, sir, he commanded us to rescue and give sanctuary when we could to all women, children and elderly, be they Briton or Saxon. On such actions were bonds of trust built, even as battles raged.”