suzannah-rowntree

Sir Ector looked into the fire, fidgeting with something in his pocket. "I have something for you," he said at last. "It was your mother's." And he drew out the thing in his pocket and held it up to her. The ring Blanche took from him was antique silver, cabochon-set with a glimmering moonstone. Her mother's ring! Blanche folded it into her hand and held tightly to the only thing her parents had left her.

I did not do it for you, sire." Gawain was deadly serious now. "Death comes to us and all mortals. I shall still lose you one day. But Logres! The only perfection under heaven would fall if I could not save you.

A knight will give a lady a ring from his hand and take a kiss from her lips, when he wishes to love her and serve her all his days," she recited, as she had when he was small. She pulled the ring from the chain and held it out to him. "This ring is the knight's who swore to serve me. Take it. One day you may find a lady to wear it.

Oh, Perceval, a falcon is born to hunt, and so are you. One day you will hunt indeed--but not yet." "Why? Am I not ready?"She looked at him sadly and said, "Give me a little longer.

Then this is for you," Galahad said, and drew a knife from the pouch at his belt. It was an odd little thing, T-hilted and small enough to fit into a woman's hand. Its translucent blade, only an inch and a half long, was bound with scrolling bronze wire to the bone hilt. "Have a care. Obsidian is sharper than anything else in the world, sharp enough to make sunlight bleed.

He grinned. __o not fear. I am here to serve you, as I promised._ Despite the fit of schoolgirl giggles that had seized her in Carbonek when he first proposed to be her knight, his assurance annoyed her now. __ou inspire me with confidence,_ she said, honey-sweet. __ith a few more years and experience, you would make a capable guardian, I__ sure._ __nd you an amiable ward,_ he said, bowing again.

In the dim sunset Perceval looked the glade over and said, __oes your lady wife think so little of sending you out on deadly errands?_ Sir Gareth unstrapped the blanket from behind his saddle. __t__ our fourth child. I__e grown accustomed to it._ __f course,_ Perceval said with a grin, __ven dragonfire might burn less hot than my lady aunt__ temper._ Sir Gareth cuffed Perceval across the ear. __or that piece of insolence, youngster, you take the first watch. And be glad you are so tender in years that I dare not risk my honour upon you in single combat to prove my Lynet as sweet-tempered as she should be.

Blanchefleur felt a quick rush of affection for her. When the world frowned, Branwen went on smiling. There was a heart of steel under all that froth and bubble.

It was like listening to the universe in motion. Planets spinning on their appointed courses, the lives of men intersecting and parting, the unimaginable harmony of the human body itself in hierarchy and order, were all implied in the song, but something greater as well: the genius of the composer, which must surely approach the miraculous. Perceval closed his eyes and was lost in the weaving music.

Do not deceive yourself, Gawain. There are black places in the heart of every man.

She slipped off the lid and took out a little hourglass hanging on a silver pivot from a black ribbon, its belly full of twinkling black sand. "Oh, it's beautiful!" "You like it." Her guardian, the antiquarian, who invested every colour, gemstone, beast, and planet with arcane and symbolic meaning, would likely give her a lecture on saturnine influences. Blanche decided not to care. "Yes, I do.

How you must hate Logres,_ she said in a dry mouth. __ate Logres?_ He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. __here is an anger that is deserved, Blanche. Tell me. Look me in the eye, if you can, and tell me__o my face__hat Logres is without sin.

There was carpet under Blanchefleur__ feet and the scent of clean and delicate things in her nostrils__erfume, babies, soap, and tea. Homesickness hit her like a clenched fist; this was worse than memory.

I have fled from the wilderness fasting, with woe and unflagging travail,I have sought for the light on the mountain, and skirted the devilish dale. I have laid my mouth in the dust, and begged the Might to be kind,I have come to the feast, and I famish. Now grant me the Holy Grail.

I mean,_ he said, __hat by your own showing, the greatest threat to heaven comes from within the ranks of the angels themselves. Before you can prove to me that heroes can defeat villains with nothing but the purest chivalric ideals, you must convince me that heroes do exist, and that villains are not a fanciful tale for children. You must tell me, sir, if you dare, that you are incorruptible, and that your colleagues and commanders are as pure as you.

Perceval said to the Grail Knight: __ill you break a spear with me this day?_ He did not expect Galahad to look down on him from Lancelot__ immense height and say, gently, as if he knew it must disappoint, __ir, I cannot._ __o? Well, there are others to fight,_ said Perceval, trying not to show how vexed he felt to be denied the honour. __ot for any lack of love,_ Galahad added. __ut for the regard in which I hold you, Perceval of Wales.

Look out your window on a morning in spring, ten or twenty years hence, and perhaps you'll see me coming.

Gawain laid his hand on his son__ shoulder. __ir Perceval, when the priest reads the lesson, he says that he who would save his life must lose it. Good words for any man, for there are moments when cowardice will bring death more surely than boldness. But the ordinary man knows, when he goes out to meet the wolf in his road, that he may yet come home in peace. Not so the knights of the Round Table. We win through one deadly peril only to face another. If we banish one evil, we must go on to the next and after that, to the next__ntil death meets us in the path. We yield up our bodies every day, not for glory and fortune but so that those weaker than ourselves may live. Do you understand?_ __ do,_ said Sir Perceval. __nd I say that there is no nobler calling. I am content._ But then he thought of the Lady Blanchefleur kissing his brow on a night of fire and blood, and with a sudden ache of grief told himself that even a hundred years of peace would not be enough time to spend with her.