The Story of Gawain and Ragnell Read Free Page B

his head, feeling much more himself as soon as the humble robes were on the floor rather than on his back. He found he had no stomach for talking about Ragnell, her misfortunes, and her former beauty with a group of men, even if one of them was a priest. It came precariously close to the kind of talk men shared around the campfire, discussing women as they would a favorite horse or a well-fought battle.
    He turned to Gareth and Gaheris. "We cannot expect reinforcements from Caer Leon in much less than two weeks, even if they are riding hard. Any suggestions as to what we can do in the meantime to increase our chances of victory?"
    "Do you think there is any way we could secretly weaken the defenses?" Gaheris said slowly.
    Gareth propped his chin in his palm. "We would make ourselves suspicious if we tried to do that, even at night. I think our preparations will have to be limited to the village." He turned to Pabius. "Assuming the villagers can be trusted?"
    "I believe so," Pabius said. "I will speak with the priest again, but my first impression was that there is much support for Ragnell in Caer Camulodon."
    Gawain laid his bedroll out on the mattress of straw closest to the door. "We should consult with Bertilak about what he plans for the wedding festivities. That would give us a good excuse to move back and forth between the hill-fort and the village."
    "Yes," Pabius agreed, lying down on his own pallet.
    Gawain raised the oil lamp. "We will have much to do on the morrow. Good night."
    He blew out the flame and lay down, only to be assaulted by the memory of Ragnell's sad, brave smile. He would do everything is his ability to give her back something of what had once been hers.
    And then he realized that his first thought upon seeking his bed had not been of Yseult — perhaps for the first time since she had told him she would be marrying Cador.
    Truth be told, he had not thought of Yseult for almost a whole day.
    He laced his fingers behind his head and gazed up into the darkness. Was he finally beginning to recover from the most severe bout of disappointed love he had ever experienced? Or was it simply that beauty, ugliness, mystery, and a hill-fort to be retaken were enough to distract him for a time?
     
     

 
     
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    When that evil lady he lay beside
 Bade him turn to welcome his bride,
 What, think you, he did?
   Oh, to spare her pain,
And let not his loathing her loathliness vain
   Mirror too plain,
   Sadly, sighingly,
   Almost dyingly,
 Turned he and kissed her once and again.
 Like Sir Gawain, gentles, should we?
  Silent, all!   But for pattern agree
 There's none like the Knight of Courtesy.
    George Meredith, "The Song of Courtesy"
     
     
    Gareth made the most convincing monk among them, Gawain thought at dinner the next day, glancing at his youngest brother as he bowed his head over the first course of duck eggs with pine nut sauce. And he a married man with a steadily increasing family. But there was a perplexing innocence about Gareth, always had been.
    Gawain took another bite of the duck eggs. Ragnell had organized an exceptional meal, if this course was any indication. The nutty sauce had just the right hint of honey and vinegar to make it interesting without being too sour or too sweet.
    "What kind of wedding festivities are you planning once Ragnell's cousin arrives?" Pabius asked Bertilak as the first course was being cleared away. The priest had been given the seat of honor next to their "host" — while Gawain sat opposite beside Ragnell, squirming every time the warrior in green took his betrothed's hand possessively. He couldn't forget what she had told him the day before, and he couldn't help wanting to jump up and wring the man's neck.
    Especially since Bertilak did his very best to avoid looking at her, despite all his show of possession.
    Bertilak tried to hide his surprise at the priest's question, and there was a brief moment of embarrassed silence.
    "We have