The Squire's Quest (7 page)

"Eeugh," said Dinadan.

The musician retrieved his instrument, and the musicians began a new song. Terence slipped away, leaving Dinadan enraptured by the music and the crowd delighted by the romance.

In the main courtyard by the front gate, Terence came upon another crowd. Spotting Kai at the fringes, watching from atop a low wall, Terence skirted the throng and joined him. "What's to do here?" he asked.

"Blasted mummers," snorted Kai.

Terence followed his gaze and, at the center of the yard, made out several masked forms waving their arms and leaping gracefully in the air. Mummers—silent actors—were often to be found at the Christmas season, acting out the story of the nativity, but Terence didn't remember seeing them in summer before. "What are they presenting?"

"Before they started, a herald announced that they'd be showing us 'The Allegory of the Rose,' a tale of love."

"Oh," Terence said. "So, what's it about?"

"Geldings in tight clothes, apparently."

Guessing that there was more to 'The Allegory of the Rose than Kai's interpretation, Terence slipped off the wall and moved closer. There were three mummers, one of them prancing in a circle, and the other two twisted into a knot. Terence watched for a while but understood none of it. Evidently, his confusion was shared. After a few moments, a man standing beside Terence said to his neighbor, "Here, Jem, I think I got it. Those two in the bundle are a flower. They must be the rose."

His friend, Jem, considered this. "Mebbe," he said. "Unless they're the allegory."

"Aren't allegories long and skinny? Like snapdragons?"

"Depends on the variety," Jem said sagely.

They watched in silence for another minute. Then the first man said, "Mebbe it's a pansy."

"Ay, that'd be it."

Terence backed out ofthe crowd and walked away. A minute later, he came upon a brightly dressed minstrel, seated in a doorway strumming at a lute. As Terence approached, he raised his voice:

"I sing in praise of lovely Sarah, In all the earth is there one faireh? Her eyes are stars, her smile the sun, To be her mirror, rivers run. The flowers fade before her cheeks, Compared to her, they smell like leeks..."

Terence moved on quickly. Over the next ten minutes he found two more minstrels, a band of acrobats engaged in spelling out the name Sarah with their bodies, and a juggler who chattered all through his presentation about how the balls and other objects he kept in the air represented such things as purity and faithfulness and humble service to the fair Sarah. The atmosphere at court was like a St. Bartholomew's Day fair, and various enterprising townspeople were already setting up stalls to sell their wares to the gawking crowds, adding to the general confusion. Off to one side, out of the bustle, Terence made out the slim form of Alexander's counselor, Acoriondes, watching from beside the stables. Skirting a troupe of dancers, Terence joined him.

"Good morning, sir," Terence said.

Acoriondes nodded. "Good morning, Squire Terence. I did not know you were back at Camelot."

"I returned two nights ago," Terence replied. He indicated the dancers with a nod. "All this must have cost your master a great deal of money and bother."

Acoriondes started to speak, then closed his mouth again.

Terence waited a moment, then asked, "Out of curiosity, what does he expect to accomplish?"

A pained expression flitted across Acoriondes's face. "None of this is my master's doing. The emperor's only mistake—a grave mistake in my estimation—was in giving his brother, Cligés, permission to arrange these displays of love. Cligés swears that this is the usual way of courtship at Camelot. All the tales say this. Is it indeed so?"

Terence grinned. "No," he said.

"I see," Acoriondes murmured. For a minute he seemed lost in thought. Then, abruptly, he asked, "Forgive me for prying, but since our arrival here I have heard much about you and your adventures with Sir Gawain. I have also heard that you are a friend of Lady Sarah s. Is this so?"

"Yes."

"From your knowledge of the lady, do you imagine that these, ah, performances will spark love in her heart?"

Terence grinned more broadly. "From what I know of Sarah, I wouldn't think so." Then, guessing where Acoriondes was leading, he added, "But I might be able to drop by her rooms and find out for certain."

Acoriondes nodded slowly. "I admit that's what I was hoping. But I should warn you that visiting Lady Sarah may be difficult. My understanding is that she has bolted her door against the footmen in the corridor."

"Footmen?"

"Footmen," Acoriondes repeated, his face blank. "There are, I believe, a half-dozen footmen waiting outside her door, each with a large sack filled with rose petals."

"Rose petals," Terence repeated blankly.

"To strew at her feet wherever she walks."

"You're ... you're joking," Terence said, his lips curving in a smile of pure delight as he pictured Sarah striding through Camelot with petal-tossing servants trotting at her side.

Acoriondes sighed. "I fear not," he said.

"Oh, I definitely need to visit with Sarah," Terence said.

"And Squire Terence," Acoriondes said slowly, "I wonder if I might ask a favor of you. My master truly believes that all this confusion will influence Lady Sarah's heart in his favor. If he is mistaken, I should like very much to know that."

Terence nodded. "I'll let you know," he promised.

He didn't even try going to Eileen and Sarah's door but went at once to the back window and dropped in. Eileen was sitting alone by the fire. "Hello, love," Terence said.

"I wouldn't say that word too loudly," Eileen commented. "Sarah's gone of fit just now."

Terence nodded. "And where is the famous Sarah, than whom there is no one faireh?"

"In the bedroom, putting salve on her hands." Terence waited patiently, and after a second Eileen dimpled. "She skinned her knuckles, you see."

"On what?"

"On the teeth and noses of some gentlemen that she found in the corridor."

"Gentlemen who were sprinkling rose petals at her feet?"

"No! Is that what they're up to?" Eileen asked, her control breaking down as she dissolved in laughter.

"Are the footmen all right?" Terence asked.

"They'll live. I pulled Sarah off them after a bit. After all, she didn't really want to hit them; she wants to hit Alexander."

"No, I don't," came Sarah's muffled voice through the bedroom door. "Alexander I want to flay with a dull knife." A moment later she stormed into the room, her hands wrapped in fresh cloths. "What an ass! To think all this foofaraw would make me love him!"

Mindful of his promise to Acoriondes, Terence said, "Then it doesn't?"

Sarah stared at him. "Are you mad? Would a passel of fool minstrels make
you
love someone?"

"I just wanted to be sure," Terence explained. "Maybe I can help get rid of them for you. Wait here."

Twenty minutes later, having told Acoriondes how Sarah felt, Terence watched the first performers leave Camelot. Acoriondes was nothing if not efficient. Without being at all obvious, he had managed to speak privately to every minstrel, mummer, and musician, and within moments of his talking to them, they began packing up to leave. With the performers gone, the crowds dispersed, and an hour later Camelot was back to normal. Terence turned to go tell Sarah it was safe to leave her rooms again, but he was stopped by a quiet voice at his elbow.

"I thank you again, Squire Terence." It was Acoriondes.

"You re welcome."

For a moment Acoriondes didn't speak. Then he said, "Squire Terence?"

"Yes?"

"I would not have you think that my master is a fool. He is not. He has trusted too much in his brother, who in turn has trusted too much in foolish stories, but Alexander is a good man, great of heart. He is the best master I have ever served, and he will be a great emperor when he is older."

Terence nodded, then asked, "And why are you telling all this to a mere squire?"

"I told you that I had learned much about you. While you were away this past week, I have heard many stories about you, and of one thing I am certain. You are not a mere squire."

Terence grinned. "Be careful not to trust too much in foolish stories."

With genuine amusement, Acoriondes returned Terence's smile, the solemn courtier's face seeming suddenly years younger.

What with helping Acoriondes get rid of what the court was already beginning to call the Festival of St. Sarah, Terence had had no chance to watch Mordred, and at dinner that evening the young man was nowhere to be found. No one knew the goings-on at court better than Kai, so as soon as he was able, Terence caught the seneschal's eye and gestured for him to step aside with him. "Where's that fellow Mordred?" Terence hissed as soon as they were alone.

Kai peered at him shrewdly. "You don't like him either, do you?"

"Where is he?"

"Gone," Kai replied bluntly. "On his first quest, you might say."

Terence blinked. King Arthur sent his knights out on quests to fight injustice or drive away bandits, but there had been no reports of such problems for months. "A quest?"

"It's what you might call a diplomatic quest," growled Kai. "About midmorning today, a messenger arrived, reporting that Count Anders has refused to pay his taxes again." Count Anders was a powerful nobleman from East Anglia who was a recurring annoyance to the king. It wasn't that he was actively rebellious. He had sworn an oath of fealty to the king, like every other vassal. But he was always the last of the king's nobles to perform his lawful duties. Just a few months before, King Arthur had had to send an army to collect his rents. Kai continued, "So nothing would do for Arthur but to send Mordred off to deal with him, to see if diplomacy would work better than a show of force."

"He sent that boy alone on a mission like that?" Terence gasped.

"Nay, Bedivere's with him," Kai admitted. "But Arthur made it clear that he wanted Mordred to talk to Anders first." Terence shook his head. It didn't seem like a job for a youth. Anders was a slippery, conniving fellow, not to be trusted. "I know," Kai muttered, lowering his voice. "But Arthur's never had a son before."

They were interrupted by a commotion in the banquet hall behind them, and Terence and Kai returned to their places as Emperor Alexander's party entered the hall. As Terence took his spot behind Gawain's chair, Alexander was kneeling before a tight-lipped Sarah, apologizing brokenly to her. "It is that I am unable to speak my love for you, Lady Sarah. Even in my own tongue, I am not a man of well speeches, and in the English, I cannot say all that is in my heart. I wished the singers to speak my love for me. If it was not well done of me, then I ask your forgiveness. My hope was to praise you, not shame you. Forgive me?"

Sarah glowered at him for a moment, then said, "Oh, get up, Alexander. Just don't do it again."

The emperor sighed with relief, then smiled impishly. "I will obey you, my lady. From fear as much as from love. I do not wish to be treated as you treated my footmen."

Even Sarah had to join in the ensuing laughter, and Terence reflected that as maladroit as Alexander could be, it was impossible not to like the emperor.

Over the next two weeks, the emperor didn't make a spectacle of his love, but no one could doubt that he was pursuing Sarah as ardently as ever. In every way, he was attentive to her needs—or what he imagined to be her needs. When she went riding with Eileen, Alexander was there to help her mount her horse. When she walked to the town, one of the emperor's own footmen followed her (at a safe distance), ready to carry anything she purchased or to run errands for her. When she spoke in Alexander's presence, he immediately turned his attention from everyone else and listened to her. Sarah showed no sign of weakening, but as the days passed Alexander won nearly everyone else's heart. That Sarah still held out against so eligible and determined a suitor struck almost everyone as both foolish and cruel.

"Why
do
you refuse Alexander, anyway?" Eileen asked one evening, as she and Sarah and Terence sat behind barred door.

"Oh, don't you start, too," Sarah sighed. "I'm getting enough of that from Guinevere, who thinks it's all
so
romantic."

"But why?" Eileen persisted. "You don't dislike him. Of that I'm sure."

Sarah hesitated. "No," she admitted. "I don't. I might even one day learn to love him. But I don't yet."

"So you like him and think you would probably learn to love him. That's a more promising beginning than many marriages start with," Eileen commented.

"I know. But I don't want to settle for
probably.
" She drew a breath. "Remember, as a child I saw everyone I loved murdered. It makes you careful, about loving people. This isn't easy for me."

A gentle rap came from the chamber door. Sarah seemed to sag, but Eileen met Terence's eyes and jerked her head at the entrance. Terence drew the bolt and opened the door to reveal Alexander's younger brother, Cligés. "Please," Cligés said. "I speak for my brother."

"Come in," Terence said.

Cligés entered, his hat in his hand. "I ... I am sorry for disturbing," he stammered, kneeling before Sarah.

"What do you want?" Sarah asked, but her voice was not unkind.

"Alexandros asks please if you ... love another."

"If I ... oh, I see," Sarah said.

"If you love another," Cligés said, "Alexandros will—" Cligés consulted a scrap of paper on which several words were written in Greek letters. "—honor your love. He will say no more to you."

Sarah hesitated, then nodded to herself. "It's an honest question. No, Cligés, you may tell your brother that I do not love another."

Cligés's face broke into a dazzling smile. "Then he may hope?"

Sarah gave him a measured gaze. "Tell Alexander that he must wait. But yes, he may hope."

Cligés thanked her profusely, then hurried away with his message. Terence barred the door again.

"Do you know what I need?" Sarah asked plaintively. "I need to take a trip somewhere. Just to get away."