Read Online The Legend of the King by Gerald Morris - Free Book Online
Authors: Gerald Morris
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bundle under the gate. Lynet knew what it was even before they turned it over. It was Douglas, dead.
Gaheris shook his head. "No," he said. "Stalling for more time only makes sense if you have something to wait for. Since we've no reason to think there's any help coming, then stalling is just putting off the inevitable and making people hungry in the process. If it's to be done, then let it be done, and 'twere well it were done quickly."
"What does
that
mean?" Lynet snapped in a surly voice.
"I don't know. It just sounded dour and cryptic. It's not my fault; I'm Scottish. But I have to do this anyway, lass. You know that."
Lynet stared over the wall at the siege camp for a long minute without seeing it. "I know," she said. "Why do you think they want
you?
"
Gaheris shrugged, and Lynet forbore to ask the next question,
What will they do to you?
She didn't want to think about that.
Gaheris placed the shaft of a white flag into a slot on top of the wall, to request another parley. There was no immediate response from the camp, and Gaheris shrugged. "I'm not going to stand here and wait for them again. They're getting their terms; let them wait for me. Come on, lass. I need to go talk to our people."
He led the way down from the wall to the main courtyard. At one side a carpenter was putting together a rough box to serve as a coffin for Douglas, and on the other, Douglas's mother and a young woman kept silent vigil beside the young man's body. "My friends!" Gaheris called out. "I need to speak with you." The huddled crowd rose and gathered at the foot of the stairs where Gaheris stood.
"I have negotiated a truce," Gaheris said.
There was a murmur of relief and excitement, but in the midst of the hubbub a village elder named Daw raised his voice. "What terms? What do they want?"
Gaheris smiled crookedly. "You all go free, back to your homes."
"What's left o' them, ye mean," Daw said promptly.
"Ay. But you'll be free to rebuild."
"And what do they want?"
Gaheris sighed. "Me. I give myself up, and you go free."
The crowd was silent. Then Daw spoke again. "What do they want wi' ye?"
"They didn't say. Maybe they want a hostage. I'm King Arthur's nephew, after all."
The gathered people murmured among themselves for a few moments, digesting this information. Then another old man moved forward to stand beside Daw. Lynet recognized young Douglas's grandfather, a venerable old man called simply Mak. Mak looked at Lynet. "Beggin' yere pardon for speakin' plain, my lady, but these people don't seem hostage-taking types. They're killers. Animals. If they want Sir Gaheris, it's my thought they mean to kill him."
In the tightening of his jaw, Lynet read Gaheris's concurrence with this, but he said, "We don't know that. But even if we did, it would still be better for one person to die than for all of us to stay here and starve."
Now old Daw looked at Lynet. "What do you say to this, my lady? What will
you
do?"
"I'll be staying with Sir Gaheris," Lynet said quietly.
"Lynetâ" Gaheris began.
"I recall," Daw said meditatively, "the blight. Maybe some o' ye don't remember it so well. It was nigh twenty year ago."
"Seventeen," corrected Mak.
"We none of us had enow to eat," Daw continued, ignoring the interruption. "And Sir Gaheris fed us from 'is own storehouses and ate the same thin gruel as the rest of us. And we knew he wasn't givin' us everything, and there was some as muttered about how he was holdin' back, but then the next year he opened up the rest o' the barns and gave us seed to start over."
At this point, Mak added, "And milord and milady rode about the fields and villages as grand and tall as the noblest landowners in England, makin' us proud, even as they wore the same one suit o' clothes, patched up and mended, like the rest of us did."
A woman spoke up now. "Lady Lynet nursed my Tommy back to health when I was took wi' the same sickness. She sat right by my hearth all night. I remember. I couldn't get
Gaheris shook his head. "No," he said. "Stalling for more time only makes sense if you have something to wait for. Since we've no reason to think there's any help coming, then stalling is just putting off the inevitable and making people hungry in the process. If it's to be done, then let it be done, and 'twere well it were done quickly."
"What does
that
mean?" Lynet snapped in a surly voice.
"I don't know. It just sounded dour and cryptic. It's not my fault; I'm Scottish. But I have to do this anyway, lass. You know that."
Lynet stared over the wall at the siege camp for a long minute without seeing it. "I know," she said. "Why do you think they want
you?
"
Gaheris shrugged, and Lynet forbore to ask the next question,
What will they do to you?
She didn't want to think about that.
Gaheris placed the shaft of a white flag into a slot on top of the wall, to request another parley. There was no immediate response from the camp, and Gaheris shrugged. "I'm not going to stand here and wait for them again. They're getting their terms; let them wait for me. Come on, lass. I need to go talk to our people."
He led the way down from the wall to the main courtyard. At one side a carpenter was putting together a rough box to serve as a coffin for Douglas, and on the other, Douglas's mother and a young woman kept silent vigil beside the young man's body. "My friends!" Gaheris called out. "I need to speak with you." The huddled crowd rose and gathered at the foot of the stairs where Gaheris stood.
"I have negotiated a truce," Gaheris said.
There was a murmur of relief and excitement, but in the midst of the hubbub a village elder named Daw raised his voice. "What terms? What do they want?"
Gaheris smiled crookedly. "You all go free, back to your homes."
"What's left o' them, ye mean," Daw said promptly.
"Ay. But you'll be free to rebuild."
"And what do they want?"
Gaheris sighed. "Me. I give myself up, and you go free."
The crowd was silent. Then Daw spoke again. "What do they want wi' ye?"
"They didn't say. Maybe they want a hostage. I'm King Arthur's nephew, after all."
The gathered people murmured among themselves for a few moments, digesting this information. Then another old man moved forward to stand beside Daw. Lynet recognized young Douglas's grandfather, a venerable old man called simply Mak. Mak looked at Lynet. "Beggin' yere pardon for speakin' plain, my lady, but these people don't seem hostage-taking types. They're killers. Animals. If they want Sir Gaheris, it's my thought they mean to kill him."
In the tightening of his jaw, Lynet read Gaheris's concurrence with this, but he said, "We don't know that. But even if we did, it would still be better for one person to die than for all of us to stay here and starve."
Now old Daw looked at Lynet. "What do you say to this, my lady? What will
you
do?"
"I'll be staying with Sir Gaheris," Lynet said quietly.
"Lynetâ" Gaheris began.
"I recall," Daw said meditatively, "the blight. Maybe some o' ye don't remember it so well. It was nigh twenty year ago."
"Seventeen," corrected Mak.
"We none of us had enow to eat," Daw continued, ignoring the interruption. "And Sir Gaheris fed us from 'is own storehouses and ate the same thin gruel as the rest of us. And we knew he wasn't givin' us everything, and there was some as muttered about how he was holdin' back, but then the next year he opened up the rest o' the barns and gave us seed to start over."
At this point, Mak added, "And milord and milady rode about the fields and villages as grand and tall as the noblest landowners in England, makin' us proud, even as they wore the same one suit o' clothes, patched up and mended, like the rest of us did."
A woman spoke up now. "Lady Lynet nursed my Tommy back to health when I was took wi' the same sickness. She sat right by my hearth all night. I remember. I couldn't get
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