The Lioness and Her Knight Read Free Page B

knight said absently, his attention focused on the approach of Ywain and Luneta. "Good morrow, Sir Knight," he called.
    "Is it morrow already?" the man in motley exclaimed. "I wasn't even done with yesterd!"
    "With what?" the knight asked, his brow creased. Luneta suppressed a smile.
    "Good day, Sir Knight," Ywain said, inclining his head courteously.
    "Forgive me for not rising to meet you," the knight said from his pillows, turning away from the juggler. "You see, I have been grievously wounded."
    At these words, the lady at the man's right burst into gusty sobs and buried her face in her handkerchief.
    The man in motley glanced at her, then tossed his ball up and caught it in his other hand. "There," he said. "See what I did, my lady? To cheer you up I juggled with two hands. I just compromised my artistic principles for your sake. I hope you will applaud now. I couldn't bear to have made such a sacrifice for nothing."
    The lady ignored him. "Oh,
poor
Sir Grenall."
    "No, no, my lady," the man said earnestly. "You've gotten them confused. It was Sir Lorigan who was poor. Sir Grenall is very rich."
    "Silence, fool," said Sir Grenall from his pillows. Now that they were near, Luneta could see the knight and the lady more clearly. The lady was very young, perhaps only a year or two older than Luneta herself, and the knight was at least forty. The fool—who looked to be in his early twenties—caught the ball and stowed it in a pouch at his side.
    "I know when I'm not appreciated. I'll have you know that when I performed in York, I had them all in tears of laughter, even the old men." He smiled pleasantly at the lady, who was still weeping quietly into her handkerchief. "You'd have liked it, my lady—all those old men, I mean."
    "Silence, fool," Sir Grenall said, an edge to his voice.
    Ywain finally spoke. "I am sorry that you have been injured, Sir ... Grenall, is it?"
    "Sir Grenall of the Firth," the knight said jovially, settling himself more comfortably on the cushions. He didn't sound like someone who had been grievously injured, Luneta thought.
    Ywain must have been thinking the same thing, because he said, "Er ... how exactly are you injured, Sir Grenall?"
    "Ah," said the fool, "you've been misled by my master's courage. You were wondering how someone who seemed so comfortable could be injured, but I tell you that it is all an act. Sir Grenall is so brave that he will not let his pain show."
    Sir Grenall smiled modestly and murmured, "Yes, well, code of honor and all that."
    "You are too modest, sir!" the fool cried. He looked back at Ywain and Luneta, his face solemn and inspired. "Does Sir Grenall
want
to lie on pillows all day? Of course he doesn't! Only the need to hide his injury forces him to do something so repugnant! Does he want to drink wine and eat sweetmeats through the morning? Don't be silly! It's all an act! Sir Grenall is bravely trying to hide his pain!"
    Sir Grenall smiled again, but with less pleasure.
    "Indeed, his courage goes beyond even this," the fool added. "Sir Grenall is so brave that even the doctors themselves can't find his wound!"
    "There, there, that's enough, fool," Sir Grenall interposed hastily, but not before Luneta, taken by surprise, had allowed a giggle to escape. The knight glanced at her, but she quickly assumed an expression of sympathy, and he looked away. Her eyes met those of the fool, who winked at her, then turned toward Sir Grenall again. Luneta blinked with surprise at the fool's effrontery, but decided not to be offended. She was enjoying him too much.
    "If I must speak of it," Sir Grenall was saying, "then I must. I am Sir Grenall of the Firth—but I've told you that, haven't I?"
    "Most excellently well, Sir Grenall," the fool said, applauding politely.
    "And this is my lady, the Lady Golina. Not three days ago, a villainous recreant knight struck me down in this very field, seeking to steal my lady from me. Naturally, I should have defeated him, but Sir