Parsifal's Page by Gerald Morris

Author:Gerald Morris [Morris, Gerald]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

VII. Questing

They rode toward Wales, leaving the fields and plains and then climbing wooded hills. Piers was still often startled by the casual manners that Sir Gawain and his squire used with each other, as if they were equals, but as time went on he began to lapse into the same familiar manner. At the knight's insistence, Piers even stopped using the full title Sir Gawain, and began calling him simply Gawain.

It would have been hard to stay too formal, anyway, given the division of duties in their camps. Everyone pitched in and did part of the work, and no task was considered below anyone. Terence did all the hunting and cooking, and Gawain cleaned and oiled his own armor—a squire's task if there ever was one. After the first day, Piers took over caring for the horses. Gawain's black horse sometimes snapped at him and always watched Piers suspiciously, but Piers was used to fidgety horses. He had often held horses while his father shod them.

"You seem to be good with horses, Piers," Gawain commented. "Guingalet there doesn't usually let strangers curry him."

Piers was pleased, but said only, "I've never been afraid of horses."

"Nothing wrong with being afraid of Guingalet," Terence remarked. "He's half devil. He's a bit calmer these days, but when he was young, no one could get close to him but Gawain."

"Shush," Gawain said. "You'll hurt his feelings." He glanced fondly at his horse. "Don't listen to him, old fellow. I know you're as nasty as ever."

They rode into the Welsh hills, still heading north, meeting no one that they could ask about a red knight. On the third day, though, Piers felt a growing excitement. The woods around him looked the same as always, but now he had an odd sense of expectation. At midafternoon they came upon a castle in the woods. Gawain drew up at the edge of the forest. "What do you think, Terence?"

"I don't know, milord. Have you been feeling it, too?"

"Ay, something not natural in the air."

"Not bad, though," Terence added. "Just... uncanny. Why don't you and Piers go and ask after the red knight, while I scout around outside?"

Gawain nodded, and Terence slipped soundlessly from his saddle and seemed to melt into the forest. "Come on, Piers," Gawain said.

They rode into the cleared area before the castle, where a trail of smoke rose from a sturdy stone cottage outside the gates. As they drew near, a rough-looking man stepped out and raised his hand in silent greeting.

"Hello," Sir Gawain called. "Is this castle inhabited?"

"Ay," the man said. "What do you want?" Gawain raised his eyebrows, and the man smiled ruefully. "Didn't mean to be rude. We get few visitors. My name's Waleis, and I'm the reeve here—and chief gamekeeper and steward and if the master were a bit more grand, I'd be called the seneschal too. If you need anything, you may as well ask me first, because you'll get sent back out to me anyway."

Gawain nodded. "We're looking for a red knight that we've heard has been in these parts.

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