The Quest of the Fair Unknown (7 page)

Once again, Galahad raised his eyes worshipfully toward the ceiling where the Grail had been. "I will seek the Grail," he said in a ringing voice. "With this sword I have drawn from the stone, I will seek it until either I have found it or have died in the attempt."

In the silence that followed this grand declaration, Beaufils said, "That sounds nice, Galahad. I'll go with you."

All the knights who had volunteered for the quest—"quest" means "search," Beaufils discovered after asking about—were to set off together the next morning. Alone in their room that night, Galahad and Beaufils agreed that Beaufils would act as Galahad's squire on their journey, which Galahad explained would involve helping out around their camp and taking care of Galahad's armor and sword and shield. Beaufils didn't mind doing that, but he pointed out to Galahad, "You don't have a shield, remember?"

"God shall send one," Galahad said calmly. "Just as He sent a sword."

There was no arguing with that, so Beaufils applied himself to learning how to care for armor.

They set off the next morning with a grand fanfare, and all the questing knights stayed together at first. After an hour or so, Gawain rode a huge black horse up beside Beaufils, who was still on his old friend Clover the mule. "Good morning, lad," Gawain said, smiling. "I gather that you're now young Galahad's squire?"

"That's right," Beaufils said. "Galahad says that all knights have squires, and I don't mind doing my bit for a friend." He glanced around. "Do you have a squire, Gawain?"

Gawain nodded. "Ay, and I'm wishing he were here. His name's Terence, and I'd like him to meet you."

"He's away now?"

"Yes. He, um, has a home in another land, and he's gone to visit his father there."

"Oh? Is his father a knight, too?"

Gawain shook his head. "Nay, his father is ... well, it's a bit difficult to explain. Terence's father is a great man in that other place, and Terence has gone to ask his father if he has heard any important news."

Gawain seemed to expect a reply, so Beaufils said, "That sounds nice."

Gawain grinned. "You're not even curious about what sort of news he wants?"

"Not really," Beaufils said. "You see, nearly everything's news to me."

Gawain chuckled. "Yes, I imagine so. But I'd like to tell you all the same. Do you mind?"

"Not at all."

Gawain said, "You see, King Arthur is the greatest king this land has ever seen—or ever will see, I imagine—but not everyone wants a great king. A great king protects the humble and suppresses the proud, and that irritates the proud. So the king has powerful enemies who wish him gone, and every year there are revolts against him. Just this past month, word has come of such a plot. Terence's father is a knowledgeable sort of person, so Terence has gone to ask him." Gawain watched Beaufils's face in silence for a moment, then said, "You may be wondering why I'm telling you this."

This question hadn't occurred to Beaufils, but it seemed that Gawain wanted to tell him, so Beaufils asked, "Why?"

"Because, my boy, there is something in your face and the way you move that reminds me of Terence, as if you've come from the same place he does. I was wondering if you'd had any contacts from the people of that world. Tell me, Le Beau Desconus, have you ever met someone who seemed to you to be strange?"

"Everyone's strange to me," Beaufils pointed out.

"I mean someone who looked different from other people and who seemed to know things that other people didn't know and who only appeared to you when you were alone?"

Beaufils hesitated, frowning. Scotus, the old man who had told him about Galahad's dream, had said not to tell others about him.

Gawain was watching Beaufils's face closely, and now he smiled. "Never mind. I think I have my answer. How long have you known Galahad?"

"Just a few days," Beaufils replied. "We met on the way to court."

"He seems a fine lad, though a bit young to be 'the best knight in the world.' He can't be much more than sixteen. Even Lancelot wasn't called that until he was—"

At that moment Galahad himself rode up and joined them. "Beaufils," Galahad said, interrupting Gawain, "I've been asking the other knights and have learned that there is a church off to the east of us."

"Is there?" Beaufils replied agreeably. "Fancy that."

"I was shocked to see how few of Arthur's great knights joined me for early services this morning before we set out," Galahad said, his lips set disapprovingly. Gawain looked amused but said nothing. Galahad continued. "It is clear that this quest for the Holy Grail can only be achieved by a knight of utter purity, and so it behooves us to make confession as often as we can. Let us turn off this path and go to the church."

Gawain's smile grew. "You confessed before we left this morning and now you want to go confess again? Just what have you been up to over there?"

Galahad scowled but did not look at Gawain. "Come, Beaufils."

"Very well," Beaufils said. "Goodbye, Gawain. I hope we have a chance to talk again."

"I hope so too, lad."

Then Beaufils followed Galahad down a narrow track that led away from the other questing knights and into a thick wood. After nearly two hours, they came to a wooden building. It was small and roughly made, but on its roof was the pointy tower that seemed to be the mark of a church. Murmuring a prayer of thanks, Galahad dismounted and headed for the building. As he approached it, the door opened and two men appeared. One was a knight and the other a priest. Both men stopped, and Galahad bowed deeply to the priest. "Greetings, Father," he said. "I am a knight errant seeking absolution and spiritual guidance from your hand."

The priest looked momentarily flustered but after a moment said, "You are welcome, my son. I shall see to you as soon I bless Sir Brandegoris on his quest."

The knight, Sir Brandegoris, said abruptly, "Who are you? We haven't met, have we?"

"I am Galahad, son of Sir Lancelot," Galahad replied.

"Son of Lancelot? First I've heard of it!"

Beaufils chuckled and commented, "It was the first Lancelot had heard of it, too."

Galahad frowned, making Beaufils wonder if he had said something wrong, but Galahad didn't explain. He said, "I left my noble father at Camelot this morning that I might join the rest of Arthur's knights on the great quest."

"
Great
quest?" exclaimed Sir Brandegoris. "Dash it all, you leave court for a few days and everybody goes off on a quest. Say, they aren't after the Holy Shield of Evelake, are they?"

"Holy shield?" Galahad repeated, his eyes bright.

"Because if they are, they can all just go home again. I'm going to get that one myself."

The priest looked irritated and tried to usher Galahad into the church, but Galahad wouldn't be moved. "What shield is this?" he demanded.

"This priest here was just telling me about it," Sir Brandegoris said. "In the forest just down this path there's a shield hung on a tree. Only the greatest of knights can take that shield down."

"It is a sign from God!" breathed Galahad.

"Maybe so, but not for you," Sir Brandegoris said sharply. "I was here first, and I paid good money for the information."

The priest looked pained. "Please, Sir Brandegoris. You paid for no information. If you chose to make a donation to this church, that is your own affair, but I am no merchant."

"What? Oh, right. Blessed if I didn't forget that. It was a contribution, not a payment, and a jolly steep contribution at that. Oh well, I don't mind. I've plenty of coin." Sir Brandegoris tossed a clinking leather bag up in the air and caught it. The priest's eyes followed it up and down. "Anyway," the knight said, "I'm off to get that shield myself. Shall I bring it back and show you?"

"You must not, Sir Brandegoris!" the priest said hastily. "When this Holy Shield was left there by King Evelake, son of Joseph of Arimathea himself, he decreed that whoso took it must never use it just to show others its—"

"Joseph of Arimathea!" Galahad said breathlessly. "Truly, it is a sign! I must confess at once!"

"Well, why don't you do that, while I go fetch my new shield?" Sir Brandegoris said. With that, he dropped his bag of coins in his saddlebag, mounted, and rode away, while Galahad followed the priest inside. Beaufils went in for a moment, but this church didn't feel peaceful, like the other one, and after waiting a bit, he strolled back outside to curry Glover and Galahad's horse. He finished, and still Galahad remained inside, so Beaufils stretched out in a sunny spot to think about money.

He had been puzzling about this money for several days, actually. Sir Bors and Sir Lionel had explained to him as they rode together that what the bandits who attacked him had been looking for had been round flat metal things called money, or coins, and that everyone wanted these things. They had tried to explain why, but it had all seemed absurd to Beaufils. Since leaving Sir Bors and Sir Lionel, though, Beaufils had observed the truth of their words. In the marketplace at Camelot, he had seen how highly these round things were esteemed and had even watched a man trade a whole basket of food for just two or three of them. Beaufils had also noticed that some people seemed to feel good about themselves if they had some of these bits of metal—like Sir Brandegoris tossing his bag of coins up and down with so much satisfaction—and others, who didn't have as many coins, seemed to feel unhappy about it—like the priest who had gazed so hungrily at Sir Brandegoris's bag.

It was all very puzzling, and Beaufils was no closer to understanding it when at last Galahad and the priest appeared at the church door. Galahad seemed refreshed, but the priest looked almost haggard. "Thank you, Father," Galahad was saying. "I hope I didn't forget to confess something."

"I can't see how," the priest muttered irritably. "Unless you left out the sin of making too much of your own sins."

A cloud flitted across Galahad's brow. "Do you really think that might be a sin, Father? Do you think I should—?"

"No, no," the priest said hastily. "Not at all. And if it
is
a sin, I absolve you of it. No extra charge! Just go, please!"

"If you think that I am truly cleansed," Galahad said.

"Pure as snow!" the priest assured him.

A motion from the right caught Beaufils's eye, and the horse belonging to Sir Brandegoris appeared, walking back down the trail the knight had taken an hour before, with Sir Brandegoris himself slumped over the horse's neck. Galahad cried out and rushed over to the knight, but the priest only closed his eyes and sighed with frustration. It struck Beaufils that the priest wasn't surprised at all, and that his frustration wasn't because Sir Brandegoris was hurt but because Galahad had seen it.

"Beaufils! Come help me!" Galahad called.

Together, Galahad and Beaufils lowered the knight from his saddle. They removed his helm, and while Galahad examined him, Beaufils studied a deep dent in the back of the helm. Sir Brandegoris moaned and reached up one gauntleted hand to his head. "What happened?" he croaked.

"He clearly was unworthy to take down the Holy Shield of King Evelake," pronounced the priest. "Let it be a warning to all who so presume."

"I never even saw who hit me," Sir Brandegoris said with another groan.

Beaufils took the horse's head and spoke softly to the animal, calming it, and while he stroked its neck, he reached back and felt in the knight's saddlebags. The bag of money was gone.

"You stay here with this good priest," Galahad said, standing suddenly. "I shall seek this shield myself, and if the same enemy attacks me, I shall avenge your humiliation! Come, Beaufils."

Galahad raced to his mount and started at a gallop down the path toward the Holy Shield of King Evelake. It took Beaufils several minutes to catch up with his friend, but when he did, Galahad smiled delightedly at him. "I
knew
that this adventure would be ours after all. We seek the Holy Grail, brought to this land by Joseph of Arimathea, so of course we should have the shield of Joseph of Arimathea's son. God has provided for us again on our quest!"

Beaufils didn't bother answering. When Galahad talked fervently about God, he never noticed what anyone else said anyway. Beaufils was busy watching for hidden attackers. Ten minutes later, Galahad spied the shield, hung in the fork of a tree just off the path, and Beaufils spotted what he was looking for: a man crouching atop a boulder above the forest track. "Why don't you say one more prayer before you go get the shield?" Beaufils suggested, sliding off his mule and slipping into the forest. He circled around behind the boulder, then climbed noiselessly up behind the man. Galahad had finished his prayer and was just about to ride past the stone, his eyes fixed on the shield. The waiting man stood up, holding high in both hands a rock the size of a man's head. Beaufils stepped up behind the man and, grasping the stone just as the man began to throw it, held it in place. The man released the stone, and Beaufils allowed it to drop with a dull thunk onto the man's head. The man crumpled in a heap. Beaufils made sure that the man wasn't seriously hurt, stretched him out in a comfortable position, then searched him. Sure enough, Sir Brandegoris's money pouch was in the man's belt, so Beaufils took it and went back to Clover.

"Did you see, Beaufils?" Galahad asked. "The shield came away in my hands as easily as the sword came from the stone!"

"And now you have a shield, just as you wanted," Beaufils said.

"I must go back and thank the good priest who gave me absolution before this great trial," Galahad declared.

Beaufils looked thoughtfully at his companion. For himself, he was convinced that the priest was little more than a clever bandit, sending knights into a trap, where another man waited to bash them and steal their money, but it struck Beaufils suddenly that he shouldn't tell this to Galahad. Galahad regarded all priests as holy and blameless, and he'd never believe different. Beaufils shrugged and turned Clover back down the path after Galahad. He had to return Sir Brandegoris's money anyway.

On the fourth evening after they left Camelot, they came to what was by then their fifth church. This one was built of stone and looked older than the others they'd been to, and there were smaller slabs of carved stone scattered about the yard beside the church. At Beaufils's query, Galahad explained that those were graves, and while Galahad went in to see the priest, Beaufils strolled among the gravestones, understanding for the first time why his mother had told him to bury her body and then cover the burial place with stones. It hadn't been just an odd idea of his mother's; it was an established custom among people. Of course it was still odd, but when everyone does the same odd thing, it seems almost normal.