Britt leaned against her horse and studied the Orkney prince. “Tell me, how goes your lance training? Agravain told me you were seeking to improve your skills.”
Gawain placed his saddle packs on the ground and began unpacking. “I have improved some. I have gotten a better feel of where to aim. Previously I was content just to hit my opponent on the shield with as much force as I could muster, but some parts of the shield make a man yield easier than others. I fear Kay can still unhorse me though,” Gawain said.
Britt winced in sympathy. “Kay could unseat a knight tied to his mount. The man is a nightmare to joust against.”
Gawain sat down, his gear spread around him. “You practice with him?”
“From time to time,” Britt vaguely said. In truth she had been practicing with Kay ever since she pulled the Sword from the Stone. The stony knight was pleased with her swordsmanship skills, but was determined to make her a passable knight and took it upon himself to train her in using a lance and spear. (He gave up on her archery skills after a brief stint of practice revealed she had no aptitude for the weapon.)
“If you’re looking to beat Kay I suggest you ask Sir Bodwain for help,” Britt said.
“Sir Bodwain? Why?”
“Before he took up the position of my constable he was a particularly fierce knight. He was quite a terror to battle in his younger days, I’ve been told. I am certain he would be able to help you,” Britt said, brushing Llamrei’s broad back.
“I never knew,” Gawain said.
“I’m not surprised. I don’t think much information about any of my knights would travel as far as Orkney. But it was why Merlin advised I select him as my constable,” Britt said.
“I shall ask him to train me, in that case,” Gawain said.
Britt smiled. “I’m sure the request will please him. I need to water Llamrei. Did you already water your mount?”
Gawain nodded and went back to organizing his gear. “There’s a river just a stone’s throw north from here.”
“Excellent, thank you, nephew,” Britt said, leading her horse from the camp.
“My pleasure, My Lord,” Gawain said.
When Britt turned to acknowledge the comment with a wave she noticed Lancelot intently watching her.
The handsome knight made no movement to cover up his stare. Instead he twisted his lips into a thoughtful frown.
Britt was distracted from his odd behavior when Sir Kay joined her. “Good evening, Sir Kay. Watering your horse?”
“Yes. You shouldn’t go alone,” Sir Kay said.
Britt chuckled. “Of course. Thank you for accompanying me.”
“Yes.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Yes.”
“You remain as enigmatic as ever, brother.”
“Thank you.”
The following morning Britt knelt at the riverbed and splashed water on her face in an effort to wake up. Since arriving in ancient Britain, Britt had been infected by a horrible case of insomnia, making mornings a bear to get through.
Britt rocked back on her heels in a squatting position and considered the riverbed. There were a number of strange tracks on the moist banks. Britt studied them with a frown, looking up when she heard the pounding of horse hooves.
A knight dressed in black armor and riding a sturdy horse crashed through the underbrush, popping out a few feet away from Britt.
“You there, knight. Have you seen anything—like a strange beast—pass this way?” the knight demanded.
“No,” Britt said, stifling a yawn.
“Did you hear anything? Perhaps a noise that is not unlike the baying of hounds?”
“No, we’re in the Forest of Arroy, faerie lands. There are no dogs in these parts,” Britt said, boosting herself into a standing position.
“Oh, I say, Arthur, is that you?” the knight asked.
Britt studied the black armor and ventured a guess. “Pellinore?”
“At your service,” King Pellinore said, flipping up the visor of his helm.
“What are you doing here? Your lands are far from this forest,” Britt said.
“Does it displease you to find me near your kingdom?” Pellinore asked.
“No, I told you before that you could pass through whenever you wish so long as you don’t disturb my people,” Britt said.
“I thank you for your generosity. I am on a noble adventure, for I am chasing the Questing Beast.”
“The Questing Beast? I remember you mentioning that when we argued about your Sable Knight title. What exactly is a Questing Beast?”
King Pellinore removed his helm and patted his horse on the neck. “It is a great creature that has the head and neck of a serpent, the body of a leopard, the haunches of a lion, and the feet of a stag. A great noise emits from its belly, sounding like thirty or so baying hounds.”
“Really,” Britt said.
“You don’t believe me?”
“No, it’s more that I suspect we have a miscommunication—like the fact that you wear black armor and call yourself the Sable Knight,” Britt said, placing her hands on her hips.
Pellinore frowned. “You are an odd boy.”