Chapter Twenty-Three
C arried forward by momentum, Erec’s horse ran down the road for a quarter league before circling to return to his master. Enide reached her lord’s side first.
“Erec!”
Dropping beside his prostrate form, she saw the spreading stain of blood on his tunic. She fought back her tears.
“Erec, darling, my love,” she murmured, shaking him first gently and then more forcefully. His skin was waxy and colorless. His closed eyelids appeared nearly translucent. She leaned to his cheek.
“Erec!” she shouted in his ear. His gray lips did not so much as twitch in response. “No! No!” She fell across his bloodied body and wept. As her heart drained of its strength, she willed herself to die alongside him. “I am his murderer. If I had kept silent, he would still be safe in Estre-Gales.”
Then she spied Erec’s sword. “I can avenge my own wrong.” She pulled the sword from its sheath, so intent she paid no heed to the horse coming up fast alongside her, past imagining or caring that anyone else might be on the road. Until boots thumped on the ground beside her, and she felt the sword torn from her hand.
“Do not think it,” a man’s voice commanded.
She glanced up. She was nearly surrounded by mounted knights. A diminutive man stood beside her holding Erec’s sword.
“King Guivret!”
“What happened here?” The king winced. “No, I can see. His wounds have opened. This is my fault.”
“No, it is mine.”
“Then we both must make it right. Look there. His chest still stirs. Permit me to take him back to my castle. I have two sisters there, skilled at healing. Do not refuse.”
He was alive ? “Sire! Of course, I will not!”
*
Not three hours away stood Castle Penevric, a strong keep with a wide moat and high walls. They were greeted by a host of men-at-arms and by the king’s sisters. It startled Enide to discover they were taller than she and quite lovely. As Guivret bellowed an account of Erec’s troubles, they eyed him with the pity and concern due a wounded knight. Enide felt reassured.
Guivret had Erec carried to a remote part of the castle where they would not be disturbed. The chamber he gave to them was large and well-aired, with a window looking back toward the forest. It had a large bed provided with heavy curtains. A fireplace in one corner was quickly lit to chase away the chill, and a parade of boys entered, carrying wood to stack beside it so they would never be lacking. A cot had been set near the fireplace. On it, a thin mattress was wrapped in white linen. Servants laid Erec upon it. To Enide’s relief, he began to stir.
“Where am I?”
“Hush, Erec. You are safe. I am here. We are with King Guivret.”
He moaned and nodded, closing his eyes, his face tense with pain.
Shortly, the king’s sisters arrived with more servants carrying bowls, basins, and bundles of bright white cloth.
“If you would leave us, milady, we will tend to the wounds,” said the one who looked to be the elder. Although she spoke in a soothing tone, her face was creased with worry. Enide cringed, understanding what was to come.
“I will stay,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.
The sisters removed Erec’s hauberk and tunic, then unwrapped the blood-soaked dressing. For the first time, Enide saw the extent of his flank wound. Nausea flooded through her.
The sisters bent over him, with cloths moistened with betony water and tiny knives in their hands. Their murmurings were drowned out by Erec’s groans.
“Let him drink more of that posset. He’s big enough. It won’t hurt him,” the older woman said.
The younger held a cup to Erec’s lips and helped him lift his head. Enide watched him gulp greedily from it. His eyes closed, but he was not sleeping. His jaw clenched tight, and she saw his fist open and shut. Enide stepped closer to the cot to take hold of his hand. His fingers gripped hers so tightly she feared he would snap them off.
No more questing, she vowed silently. Surely there were more sensible ways for a prince to prove his worth.
*
The sisters tended Erec for a fortnight. They came and went to cleanse his wounds with betony, to change the adder’s tongue plasters, to apply ointments, and see to it that he ate foods suited to his state of health. Enide watched over him constantly, never leaving the chamber. Erec’s strength returned little by little. As to her own health, no longer was she wan and tired. Her hair regained its shine, her skin its glow. Erec said she had never been so beautiful.
Guivret had two rich robes made for them, one of dark purple silk and one of striped wool. Leaving the chamber together, they joined King Guivret’s court for a celebration. Enide took pleasure simply from watching Erec eat all he wanted, drink unreservedly, and laugh wholeheartedly.
After the feast, they returned to their own chamber. Enide settled onto the curtained bed. Erec glanced at the cot, then he looked sidelong at Enide.
“Lady?” he said.
“Milord?”
He waggled his brows up and down. “Command me.”
She laughed. With a bound, he leaped onto the bed. Enide snapped the curtains closed.
*
In the morning, as they ate a royal repast in Guivret’s vast stone hall, Erec announced to their host that they would be leaving.
“You have indeed been a great friend. But I yearn for my home. If it please God, we will meet again, and I will be able to repay your kindness in some measure. We will leave tomorrow at daybreak.”
King Guivret bowed in acknowledgment of Erec’s gratitude.
Erec continued, “I will not delay my journey, but first I must go to the court of my liege, King Arthur. I owe him a better leave-taking. He will likely be in Camelot—”
“King Arthur?” Guivret burst in. “Why then, you shall not go alone. It is time I met this high king!” He paused a moment as though to gauge Erec’s reaction and, perhaps, temper his own enthusiasm. He added cautiously, “If it be your wish that I do so.”
Erec smiled. “Enide and I would be most glad of your company. And King Arthur would too. He will be impressed to meet the man who bested one of his own finest knights.”