Gawain and Lady Green Read Free

midst, making for the nearest table. He shook his head, growled at himself, and dismissed the fancy.)
    Today the Fair-Field stretched empty but for a near band of boys hunting rabbits and a far flock of strayed sheep.
    Eastward the crops broke earth, reaching their fresh, sweet greenness to the sun. Not even Gawain, born noble and raised forknighthood, could look upon this rising life and promise entirely unmoved. A primal, unthought joy drew heart up out of body for a moment, and in that moment he prayed, God-thank.
    Small Ynis piped, “She’s getting bigger. Look, Granny. She was like a person, a…a mother. Standing in the peas. Now She’s like a tree. Watch Her spread out!”
    “Aye,” Lady Granny said calmly, “She can spread like mist, or cloud. She can cover the world. Or She can dance on your little finger.”
    What She? Straining his eyes, Gawain saw only sunshine and spring-greening crops. An invisible, suspicious finger touched his mind. He shivered.
    “There, She’s fading…like a rainbow.” Disappointment lowered the child’s voice.
    “She don’t really fade,” Granny explained. “’Tis but our sight fades. She’s still there.”
    Granny jiggled her bobbin back into action. Ynis looked to Gawain. (Anywhere but to her tangled thread!) She remarked, “His cloud’s a mighty funny color.”
    Granny’s shrewd old eyes crinkled at Gawain. “Mind your manners, Ynis. And your thread.”
    To Gawain she said lightly, “Don’t you be feared of us, Son.”
    Gawain, feared? Feared of these two crazies? He stiffened angrily.
    Ynis said, “See? Now his cloud’s turned all red.”
    “We’re just two crazies,” Granny confirmed his thought. “Just touched, that’s all we are. Dreamin’ together.”
    That was plain to see. These two dreamed in daylight? Let them. It was their village, Gawain sat on their stool, and would soondrink their mead. He could hear Lady Green now moving about inside the hut, preparing it.
    Gawain drew a calming breath. He had no cause for anger. Or fear.
    “Now his cloud’s brighter,” Ynis observed.
    Granny asked her sweetly, “You want a clout on the ear?”
    Ynis fell silent.
    If only the whole village did not seem touched! It was fine to be looked on as some sort of angel or pagan God, to be revered and bowed to and politely pushed to the head of every line. That was but a knight’s due among poor, ignorant savages. But, ech! Uneasily, Gawain knew they did not revere him as knight, as noble, or as King’s Companion. They did not honor his warrior’s fame, as would be only right.
    Something here was amiss, mysterious. The whole village seemed somehow…off.
    Ech. He would have to humor them. Here he sat, unarmed in their midst. And they did him no harm. To the contrary! Southward, King Arthur in his Dun reigned no more comfortably than Sir Gawain, May King, reigned here in Holy Oak.
    And yet, if only he had a horse…Leather hinges creaked. His Lady Green stooped through the hut doorway, a brimming mug cradled in her hands. She smiled at him, and all the day’s bright sunshine brightened still more.
    Dressed in a sober gray workaday gown, she yet wore green about her: a leaf bracelet, one green-stone ring, one green-stemmed wind flower caught in her swinging red braid. (At night she always came to Gawain gowned and girdled in green.)
    She rested a hand on Granny’s shoulder, stepped down from doorsill to ground, and straightened. Dignified as Queen Gwenevere herself, she walked toward Gawain, smiling, holding out the mug of brimming mead. Something in her calm, free walk stirred a memory. Somewhen, someone Gawain had loved had walked like that. But who? But when?
    Come, Sir! (said his talkative Inner Mind). You are but twenty-six, you cannot have forgotten that much yet!
    But it would not come to him.
    Tell you one thing (Inner Mind spoke again), you’ve never lain with a woman like this one before!
    He reached out for the mug, drawing nearer.
    Experience there,