“You’ve got to be jok—jesting. Griflet, you are young and untried. Approaching a knight like this sable guy is no small matter. If his apple tree is heavily laden with shields it implies he is an excellent fighter. You haven’t even beaten Ywain yet. You are not ready,” Britt said to both Merlin and Griflet.
“If you have any affection for me at all you will grant me this boon,” Griflet said.
“Then it is certainly a good thing for you that at this moment I don’t have any affection for you. Ow!” Britt said when Merlin elbowed her again. “What is it?” she hissed to the enchanter.
“Have you forgotten that young Griflet is the cousin of your dear Sir Bedivere?” Merlin said, dragging Britt aside.
“Bother, everyone is related to everyone in Camelot! And that doesn’t change my decision.”
“Then why won’t you knight him?”
“Because he’s going to get himself killed.”
“First of all, that doesn’t matter. His death won’t be on your hands. He’s responsible for his own fool head. The greater issue here is that he is related to Sir Bedivere. If Sir Bedivere discovers you refused to knight his young cousin he will feel personally slighted.”
“Sir Bedivere is sitting in Morgause’s pocket right now. He’s not going to react at all.”
“Not now, but when Morgause leaves—because she will leave—he will hear about it.”
Britt pinched the bridge of her nose. “Why is it a bigger deal if someone feels slighted or offended than if they die?”
“Griflet won’t die. You are right, he’s too green and inexperienced to be knighted if it weren’t for his family relations. However, this sable chap won’t kill him. He’s only interested in collecting shields. Disarming Griflet will be child’s play for him, he won’t even have to hurt him,” Merlin said.
“I’m still against this,” Britt said.
“I know, but I’m not giving you a choice.”
Britt turned back to Griflet. “Very well. I shall knight you, but know that in my heart I still have misgivings and I think you are ill equipped for this adventure,” Britt said, wagging a finger at Griflet.
“Thank you, My Lord,” Griflet said, throwing himself at Britt’s feet.
The young man kept vigil all night in a tiny chapel they found in the woods before receiving the Sacrament from the priest that kept the chapel. He was then reluctantly knighted by Britt.
Just as Griflet mounted his charge and rode off, singing like a loon and completely oblivious of the danger of combat, Sir Myles died.
The royal party stayed in the meadow—with Merlin’s permission of course—instead of making the journey home.
Britt nervously paced as Merlin plotted for the future with a less-jolly-than-usual Sir Ector. Ywain lurked in Britt’s shadow, watching her with wide eyes.
They didn’t hear from Griflet until it was late in the evening and the sky was dusty pink.
Griflet rode into the meadow, slumping across his horse to keep himself seated. His shield was gone, his new armor was dusty and dented, and based on the red smears on some of his armor Britt had a sinking suspicion he was wounded.
“Get him off that horse and start seeing to his wounds,” Britt shouted before glowering at Merlin. “I believe your words were ‘he won’t even have to hurt Griflet.’ If he dies I will never listen to your advice pertaining to my knights again,” Britt spat. Her anger was so fierce it seemed to crackle in the air, and everyone kept a wide berth from her as she paced in the meadow.
In the middle of the knight Sir Ector came and put a hand on Britt’s shoulders. “He’ll live. He wasn’t badly wounded—although I’m not certain his pride will ever recover. He wishes to speak to you, but he’s sleeping now so it would be best if you didn’t approach him until morning.”
Britt nodded.
“Try to get some sleep, boy,” Sir Ector advised before he waddled away.
When the sun first cast its morning light in the sky, Britt was at Griflet’s bedside. The young knight had woken early, grimacing with pain.
After swallowing a mouthful of water Griflet waved away a soldier who was trying to change his bandages. “I should have listened to you, My Lord. I will not doubt your judgment again.”
Britt, who had been looking very stormy and flint faced, softened and spared Griflet a sliver of a smile. “I am glad the battle did not cost you your life. What happened?” Britt asked as Merlin joined her at Griflet’s bedside.
“I found the three beautiful damsels Sir Myles’ squire described,” Griflet started. “With great reluctance they told me in what direction I should ride in to find the Sable Knight. I found the apple tree filled with shields and I smote the hanging shield that did indeed read “whoso smiteth this shield doth so at his peril.” When I hit it the Sable Knight came riding out of a nearby castle. We charged each other with spears. Mine shattered, but the Sable Knight’s hit true and swung me from my charger. After the Sable Knight took my shield and hung it on the apple tree I managed to ride back here.”