Chapter Six

A fter supper, Erec's host pressed him to accept yet another goblet of wine and then went on for hours about Laluth and its customs before his lady finally insisted they all go to bed. After all, she reminded them, Prince Erec had to joust in the morning.

That was true. And yet, Erec would not have minded listening to Licoranz talk all night. He'd been content to sit and hold the soft hand of the loveliest girl Nature had ever fashioned. Her golden hair, rose-petal lips, smooth white brow, glittering blue eyes, and pert little nose enchanted him. She smelled of fresh bread and springtime. And she would soon be his wife. Odd, the thought didn't give him the shudders.

At last, he slipped between crisp sheets and laid his head on a cushy pillow. The day had been long and eventful, yet Erec slept little, thinking of what was to come. He rose early and found Licoranz waiting.

"I am going to church to pray. Is it your intention also?"

"Ah, yes," Erec answered. He should have thought of that himself. Lancelot would have.

He followed Licoranz to the church, made an offering, and asked God's blessing on the joust.

When they returned, Licoranz summoned his daughter. She brought forth armor as finely wrought as the lord had promised. Under her father's watchful eye, the girl served as Erec's squire, helping him into the heavy hauberk and setting the shining helmet on his head. With agile fingers, she laced the greaves about his legs and fixed the ventail beneath his helm to shield his neck. Finally, she buckled his sword at his side. Erec had not expected such competence from so ornamental a lass. Although she wore another pock-holed white linen shift, she was beautiful even in rags. He smiled his satisfaction, but she turned away to fetch his horse.

She brought it back saddled and ready. Well! With flair, he leaped onto its back. Still, she said nothing. She must have been too amazed to speak. She handed him a shield, which he took by the strap and slung over his neck. Then she gave him a lance. He grasped it neatly, then turned to Licoranz.

"If you are ready, I will escort you all to the Sparrow Hawk tournament."

He had a flash of fear the old gentlemen would renege. But Licoranz had a bay palfrey brought out for his daughter. A decent horse, though the saddle and bridle were a disgrace. The girl deserved better. He needed to win. Of course, he would . At King Arthur's court, he had defeated everyone but Sir Lancelot. Hadn't he even knocked Gawain from his horse once or twice?

They set off. Entering the crowded square, they drew attention, naturally. Erec was accustomed to people marveling at him. Yet for all their gawking, the spectators were no real hindrance. They parted to allow Erec to pass. The maiden kept her head down, blushing furiously. They reached the silver perch with the sparrow hawk. Erec felt the familiar pre-tournament rising of heat in his blood. But it was more than simple excitement. This time his opponent would not be one of his Round Table fellows. And he was not fighting for a mere silk kerchief or golden arrow. He turned and scanned the crowd.

There. There was Sir Yder with his ladylove and the accursed dwarf.

And the knight saw him. The man's jaw hardened with scorn. The obvious favorite, he was swarmed by people crying out praises, raising their hands as if to touch him. With his head held proudly, he rode forward, leading his ladylove. Yet the closer they came, the thicker and more unruly the crowd, until at last his progress was halted completely.

What a disorganized spectacle the Laluthians put on.

"Halt!" a rough voice shouted.

Erec looked up to see a well-dressed man spurring his horse directly into the spectators, heedless of how many he might trample.

"The count," Licoranz said, the quiet of his voice failing to mask his distaste.

As Erec watched, the count pulled a whip from his mantle and threatened those on either side, forcing them back, until he had cleared a path for the knight and his lady.

Erec was appalled. This was not how King Arthur would run things. Nevertheless, it had the desired effect. The knight approached. With scarcely a contemptuous glance for Erec, he put his back to the worthier maiden and faced his own.

"My lady, the prize is yours. I will defend your right to it until my dying day. Come, take my gift to you."

She stretched forth her hand, but Erec stepped between her and the perch.

"Lady, you have no right to the hawk." Ignoring the red face and clenched teeth of his rival, Erec continued, "Come, my beauty. Take the bird. It is yours by right."

His beauty did not step forward. Well, she had not the practice of the other, and he did admire her modesty, but it made him look a little silly.

"Come! Claim it now. I will defend your right against all challengers. No maiden can claim to outshine you in beauty. Or can the moon claim to outshine the sun?"

That did it. The arrogant knight took up the challenge.

"Vassal, who are you to defy me?"

Vassal again? He was no man's vassal but King Arthur's.

"I am a knight from another land. And I've come for this hawk. My lady is the most deserving. Prove your mettle with battle, not words!"

This time, there was no need for the count to whip his people away. They were so eager to see two angry opponents engage in a long-awaited tournament that they cleared a space precipitously. Erec and his rival took their mounts to opposite ends of the square and lowered their lances. Upon the count's signal, they rushed to meet.

Erec felt the force of the impact down to his marrow. His lance shattered in his hand. The next moment, Erec crashed to the ground. But a few feet away, lay his opponent. So, they were well-matched at the joust.

Quickly, Erec scrambled to unsteady feet and drew his sword. Now they would meet blade to blade.

They clashed. Hewing, slicing—sword found flesh. Blood puddled at their feet. Pieces of the triple-woven hauberk fell into shreds. The other knight's armor, dented and pierced, came undone at crucial seams from the force of Erec's hammering. The battle wore on. Exhaustion and slow exsanguination finally eased the force of their strikes.

Erec's heart ached worse than his cuts and bruises. He should have won by now. His beautiful girl deserved the prize. And what? He felt a flash of fury. What of the insult done to the queen? Had he not sworn vengeance? Shamed by the memory, he redoubled his efforts.

Dashing the other's helmet, Erec struck again and again until it split open. The sword now easily sliced through coif and scalp to scrape bone. The villain's knees folded.

Triumphant, Erec pushed him to the ground. Dropping beside him, Erec yanked the broken helmet aside. Now, vengeance . He raised his sword to cut off the head of his nemesis.

"Mercy! I am defeated! Defenseless!" He gestured. "Take my sword. I yield it to you."

Erec sat back on his heels, breathing hard. He could not behead an unarmed opponent. What had gotten into him?

"Thank you, noble knight," the other said, sighing with relief. Then he peered at Erec curiously. "What offense have I committed to cause such a mortal hatred?"

"You saw me yesterday, riding in company with Queen Guinevere. You allowed your dwarf to strike the queen's maiden. When I protested, he struck me too. You obviously considered me of no account then."

Understanding dawned. The knight did not argue but lowered his head.

Erec said, "Go to Cardigan to seek the Queen. Deliver yourself into her hands. And tell her this: Sir Erec will return tomorrow with a maiden who is so fair, wise, modest…" Erec could not think of enough words to describe her. "She has no equal."

"Accept my word as a chastened man. I will seek your queen."

The knight rose clumsily, bowed, and led away his tear-stained lady and scowling dwarf. Erec, exhausted as he was, felt things had turned out well. He'd be back at court within the appointed three days. He had redeemed his honor and defended the queen's. And as a bonus, he could let his mother and Guinevere know he had found a wife—all on his own.