Chapter Twenty

K ing Arthur's court? At least he had delivered Enide to safety. Erec closed his eyes and clenched his teeth against the pain that fired anew with each jolt. Who was jostling him? He felt for his sword but could not reach it.

"Milord? Sir Erec?"

A hand clamped on his thigh. Reluctantly, with effort, he forced his eyelids open. For a moment, he could not focus. He saw only a blur of color with a fuzzy background of green.

"Erec!" The voice was more insistent. Something blocked his vision then came clear. A goblet. Behind stood Sir Gaheris. A good man, Gaheris. Terrible archer. Good man.

He started to close his eyes once more. Gaheris shook his leg. Pain shot through his whole body.

"Drink this," Gaheris said, in the voice one used to speak to a deaf man. "Gawain sent it."

The knight pushed the goblet to his lips and tilted. Erec had no choice but to swallow. Far more bitter than wine, it opened his eyes. Warmth stole into his veins. The jolting started again, but the pain was not so terrible. Erec tried to sit straighter in the saddle. He had to face the court. King Arthur's court. Lud. How low he had fallen.

Gawain emerged from the gathering crowd to take Erec's bridle.

"My king! I beg you welcome our guests."

The king and queen exited a large white tent. Hand-in-hand, they mounted a wooden platform. King Arthur smiled.

"Sir Erec! This is indeed the grandest surprise we could have wished for. Please, come join us. Tell us all you have been doing."

Ha! Not unless he could make something up. What was he to say? Since his return to Estre-Gales, marauding bandits had become so brazen in the land, they would now attack even the prince. He'd allowed a strange count to nearly seduce Enide before his very eyes, then failed to kill the man. What else? Oh, yes. He won a battle against a runt, but it took all day, and he was likely to die as a consequence.

"Thank you, Sire. There is but lil…" That didn't sound right. He tried again. "Bit lul…" No, that didn't sound right, either. One more time. "But little to tell." His tongue felt strangely thick in his mouth. He rolled it around a moment, curious. His head felt light too.

Gawain gripped his arm. "Let's get you off that horse, shall we?"

Guinevere said, "Lady Enide, I am so pleased to see you again. You have been adventuring, have you?"

"Whoops," Gawain muttered, as Erec's dismount went awry. The ground was closer than he'd thought. His knees buckled. Gawain very kindly allowed him to slither to the dirt, where he lay to rest his head and close his eyes.

"What is wrong?" Arthur demanded.

"Sire, I fear his wounds are graver than we can see," Gawain said, pulling at the fastenings of Erec's helmet. There was no preventing it. Erec did not even fight when his friend pulled his hauberk open to inspect Guivret's bandage.

" Cachaid! " Gawain muttered.

"The ladies," Erec protested, hearing horrified feminine gasps. A knight should not use such language.

Arthur said, "Gawain, take him into my tent. Gaheris, fetch Nimreale."

"Nimreale?" He heard Enide ask.

Nimreale? Well, that couldn't be good.

Well-muscled arms slipped beneath Erec's knees and back and he felt himself floating.

" Oooff !" Gawain grunted. "Nimreale is a healer. The finest. Trained by my aunt, Lady Morgan."

"Morgan le Fay?" Enide gasped. "The witch?"

"Yes," Gawain said. "But Enide, you shouldn't believe everything that you hear."