Chapter Fifteen

E nide spent a long time settling one nervous horse and then another. She wondered if they sensed her agitation. Why was she so jittery? It was clear her husband could dispatch an army of robbers with no difficulty. Had she ever really doubted that he could?

As the night wore on, Enide kept watch while braced against the tree. In shades of gray, the grasses rippled with the soft breeze in endless waves. Again and again, she relived in her mind her husband's battles. Each time she might have fallen asleep she woke with a start, envisioning terrifying alternative outcomes.

He was not injured. He had faced them five at a time without a trace of hesitation. So why was she frightened? She had never doubted his prowess. Had she?

No wonder he was furious. She had.

*

They rose early. Enide waited for Erec to speak, but he merely indicated she should ride ahead as before. She was so hungry and tired she felt faint. Nevertheless, she mounted her palfrey and led five strong horses away.

Shortly, the road narrowed to enter a dense forest. The horses bumped each other and stumbled. Enide was aware of Erec, impatient, behind her. If only he would tell her the destination. Or how much farther they must travel. He must be testing her faith in him.

Well. She would not fail.

Finally, they emerged from the woods and came across land that had been cleared. In the distance, more than a dozen laborers mowed hay in the fields. They must be close to a village or castle.

After traveling another league, they were approached from the opposite direction by three strangers. Unlike the brigands, these were no cause for alarm. Two were boys leading packhorses. The third was a young man dressed in a courtly style, without a helmet or lance, a squire rather than a knight. He called out to them as they drew nearer.

"Sire, good morrow." He lifted a hand to tell his boys to slow. "I see you've come from the south. You must be hungry. There isn't a castle, abbey, or inn for at least a day's ride in that direction." He gestured to the packs on the horses. "Take some of this fresh bread. There is good wine and cheese. Sit beneath those beech trees and make a meal for yourselves. I was on my way to Count Galoain's laborers, but there is more than enough."

Enide's mouth watered at the mere mention of food. She prayed Erec would not refuse.

"Good friend," Erec said, "thank you."

Enide watched him slide from his saddle. Did his legs look a bit wobbly or was that her imagination? The squire came around to her palfrey and helped her dismount. The boys held the horses while the squire unpacked a feast and spread it out on a fine linen cloth.

The young man served them, making certain they lacked nothing. Whoever this Count Galoain was, he must be a good man to provide so well for his laborers. And to have brought up so courteous a squire.

At last, Enide could eat no more. She watched with pleasure as Erec tucked a few more bites between his lips and tipped the remaining wine from his goblet into his mouth. Then he faced the squire.

"Friend, thank you. Now, I would give you a gift." He pointed to the horses he had won. "Choose whichever you like."

The squire's eyes widened. As well they might. A horse was fine payment for a meal!

He took his time, lifting their hooves, opening their mouths, patting their hindquarters. At last, he chose a chestnut horse with wide shoulders and strong legs.

"Now," Erec said in his prince's voice, "lead us to your town and show us where we might find good lodging."

*

The squire brought them to a proper inn, no mere brew-house with a dirty room for hire. It was as expansive as a castle, three stories high, with four chimneys and a free-standing stable—accommodations befitting a king's son. As Erec dismounted, and the squire once again aided Enide, a round-bellied man burst from the doorway, pulling an apron from his waist.

"Welcome! Welcome!" The innkeeper's hair was thick and salted with gray. His bulbous red nose suggested that he liberally sampled the ale he served his guests to ensure the quality. "Thank you, Allan," he said, with a nod to the squire.

The squire bowed and signaled to his boys to depart. At the same time, a lanky youth appeared from behind their host to lead the horses away.

"Come, milord, milady," said their host. "Anything you need, please let me know. My wife and I will do what we can."

He led them through a narrow hallway and up a set of stairs, then pushed open the door to a chamber as large as a Great Hall. A fire burned in a hearth at the far end with two benches in front. Tapers had been lit all around the walls. A white couch on which to sleep was set close to the door. A table containing refreshments was located in the corner along with several chairs.

Looking pleased, Erec said, "I do not believe we will need anything else."

The man bowed and left them. Enide stood quietly, waiting for direction. She was not hungry after their feast in the forest. More than anything, she wanted to wash her hands and face and comb her hair.

"Would you sit by the fire?" Erec asked. "You look chilled."

She nodded and returned a tentative smile. If he meant to please her, she would show him she was pleased. She knew how to feign delight.

Oh! Her smile disappeared. What if he had only been pretending delight also?

Now she truly did feel chilled. She did not know her husband at all. She had conversed more naturally with Sir Gawain than with this man she had sworn to love for the rest of her life. It wasn't that they never talked. They did. At least, they used to. Erec said sweet meaningless things. Or he made comments about nothing important for her to agree with. He had seemed so happy. But, she knew, so had she.

She did as he bade her. The bench was comfortable, and the warm fire did feel pleasant, but Erec did not sit beside her. He moved about the room, removing his scabbard, hauberk, and greaves. He stacked his arms in the corner. Then he shifted to the table where he poured himself a goblet of wine. He sat in one of the chairs, lost in thought. He made no effort to speak with her. Enide turned and stared at the fire.

A knock at the door startled them both.

"Sire," the host said, "Count Galoain has come to pay his respects."

For a moment, a tiny furrow appeared on Erec's brow, as though he was annoyed by the intrusion. Still, he stood and said, "Come in. Welcome. Indeed, milord, you are very welcome."

The door opened, revealing three men: Allan the squire, and two strangers. It was easy to tell which was the count. He wore a silk coat over a meshwork hauberk. His boots were of well-tanned leather. A jeweled scabbard held his sword.

"Good knight, it is you who are welcome!" Count Galoain said heartily, sweeping into the chamber. "When my squire returned, he could not stop singing the praises of the chivalrous stranger and," he made a deep bow toward Enide at the hearth, "his beautiful ladylove."

Erec made a slighter bow. Enide nodded in acknowledgment of the compliment, yet she wished her husband would correct the count. She was a wife, not merely a ladylove.

The count regarded her another moment, then turned to Erec. He pulled on his long blond mustache and curled it about his fingertip.

"You have been in a battle?" The count hardly made it a question. "Allan said he thought you were bruised and bloodied."

Erec shrugged. "The battle was of little note. The blood was not mine."

The count laughed. "I see. Please, say you will be my guest. Let me speak to your host about your expenses—"

"No," Erec said at once. "You are generous to offer, but I have all I need." He swept a hand to the chairs. "Tell me of this land."

The two men moved to be seated. Allan brought wine and goblets from the table, and then the squires stood to the side and waited with the invisible manner of servants. Enide sat quietly while the two lords talked and drank. They were so far away she would have had to strain to hear them if she wanted to. She tried to keep her attention on the fire but had the uncomfortable feeling she was being watched. She stole a few peeks. It was Galoain whose eyes she felt. More and more boldly he kept glancing her way.

"Sir," he said suddenly, louder now so that Enide heard the words. "I must ask a boon."

"Of course," Erec said. "Ask anything."

"As a courtesy and a favor, I would like to speak with your lady. I did come to greet you both." He laughed. "I am remiss in that I have yet to present myself to her!"

Erec smiled. Enide's throat grew tight. She wished she could protest.

"Certainly," Erec said. "How could I object?" He took a long drink of his wine. As the count stood, the second squire rushed to refill Erec's cup.

The count approached. She didn't return the smile he gave her. He pulled the two benches closer so that they would sit knee-to-knee. His gaze was hotter than the fire.

"Poor lady," he murmured, "it grieves me to see you in so sorry a state."

Her mouth opened, but she couldn't speak. She wasn't in a sorry state, not exactly.

"A beauty like yours should be worshipped. Were I your lord, you would have honor and wealth." He whispered urgently, "Say yes, and I will make you mine."

She shook her head in mute horror, and he growled, "It is clear your knight does not love you, or he would not treat you with such little regard. Stay with me."

"Sir!" she finally gasped out. "I would rather be burned alive than be untrue to my lord."

His face reddened. "You sneer at my love? Proud lady, you will regret those words. Since you dislike my proposal, I will offer you a new one: be mine, or I will slay your lord before your eyes."

Enide's heart began to pound. She didn't doubt her husband's strength. But Erec's armor was piled in the corner of the room. He hadn't even kept his sword at his side, while the count wore armor and had two squires with him! Erec still sipped wine and bantered with those squires, oblivious to what was happening beneath his nose.

She felt a flash of fury—at herself. She had been so anxious to please Erec that she had hidden from him everything but what he wanted to see. If Erec's joy depended upon his wife's meek acquiescence, then he had married the wrong girl!

"Oh, Sire," she simpered, "naturally I would prefer you. I only wanted to be certain of your love." She smiled and fluttered her lashes. The redness bled away from the count's face. The brightness returned to his eyes. She switched to a pout. "But you should never think of doing something so treacherous. To slay him now? To kill him unawares and unarmed?" She tut-tutted. "Go home. Return in the morning when my lord is about to rise. Then you may challenge him and win me with honor." She peeped up and saw the doubt in his eyes. He must have been taking Erec's measure earlier. He did not think he could beat Erec well-rested and fully armored. Well, neither did she.

"Sire," she said huskily, "believe me, this is the best plan. Tomorrow, send a troop of your finest knights to carry me off. He may not love me, but he is bold and proud. He will rush to my defense. Then you might have him seized. Have his head stricken off. It makes no difference to me. I would rather have you by my side." She sighed heavily, leaning forward to breathe close to his ear. "At night."

"Yes, my lady, yes! I will do it!" He gave her knee a quick, secretive squeeze. "I swear to you I will always serve you. Whatever you want, you shall have."

Ha! As if she could trust the word of such a man.

Smiling, Count Galoain stood and walked back to the couch where he clapped a hand on Erec's shoulder. "I must now take my leave."

Erec rose and embraced him. Galoain signaled to his squires and made for the door, turning to bow to Enide as if she were an afterthought. Then he was gone.

Good riddance, Enide thought. Now, how was she going to get poor exhausted Erec out of there?