The Story of Gawain and Ragnell by Ruth Nestvold Page B
Authors: Ruth Nestvold
Tags: The Pendragon Chronicles
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that we could claim Ragnell's cousin could not come until after the Christmas holidays, which would also give Ragnell time to prepare a wedding feast. Hopefully her betrothed will not object to a celebration for the villagers on such a joyful occasion."
"I see you still have the mind of a strategist," Gawain said with a chuckle.
Pabius shrugged. "I may be a king's son and a trained warrior, but I was never a military strategist. I have always, however, had a very active imagination."
"Imagination is a rare but brilliant characteristic in a war leader," Gawain said, thinking of the way Arthur seemed to be able to imagine the course of a battle even before the enemy had taken the positions he anticipated. "Perhaps you missed your true calling."
"No, I do not think so," Pabius said. "You see, I have no stomach for killing other men, even when they are the enemy."
* * *
Gawain found it hard to believe how uncomfortable he felt on the back of a mule, stripped of all the signs of his identity as warrior other than a short sword strapped close to his body, hidden beneath the folds of his monk's robes — where he could barely reach it if threatened. Clothed from head to foot in the garments of a Christian holy man, Gawain felt naked, not himself, ripped of everything that made him who he was. He wondered what it meant, this reaction to being without the physical trappings of his life, his identity as one of Arthur's most respected warriors. How much of himself was no more than the weapons and the armor he wore?
Hopefully they would be able to be help Ragnell, even without such trappings.
When they came out of the Elmet forest on the eastern side of the mountains, the hill-fort of Caer Camulodon was clearly visible. Below, stretched between the Elmet stronghold and the ruined Roman fort Cambodunum, was a straggling village of farms, houses and other buildings, including a marketplace, a blacksmith, an inn, and a church.
They stopped at the church first, where Pabius wanted to speak with the village priest. When he returned to their party, his expression was grim. "It is as I suspected — the hill-fort has been taken by a strange band of warriors. Ragnell's brothers and father are all dead. She has been kept alive to legitimize the kingship of the outlaw leader who killed her family. On Ragnell's instruction, the priest here claimed he had no authority to perform the holy rite of marriage, which is why I was sent for."
Gawain nodded shortly. "She sounds like a clever woman. I will send one of my men to fetch backup." He glanced at the wide hill-fort of Caer Camulodon. "Even with several of us on the inside, that fortress will not be easy to take back."
Pabius's gaze followed his. "Hopefully our lies will buy us enough time."
2
For he was clad all in green, with a straight coat, and a mantle above; all decked and lined with fur was the cloth and the hood that was thrown back from his locks and lay on his shoulders. Hose had he of the same green, and spurs of bright gold with silken fastenings richly worked; and all his vesture was verily green.
"Sir Gawain and the Green Knight" (Anonymous)
The banners now flying above the walls of Caer Camulodon were without device, simple flags of shimmering green. Gawain and Pabius and the rest of their company rode through gates thrown open in welcome after Pabius announced them. A powerful warrior in a tunic of the same shimmering green emerged from the main hall, a veiled woman on his arm, her skirts swaying with lithe grace as she walked. At least Gawain was not so far gone with disappointed love that he could not appreciate a shapely figure.
The pair stopped in front of them, and the warrior in green addressed the priest in accents of the north that brought back memories of Gawain's youth. "Well met, Father Pabius. But I do not see my future bride's cousin among your number."
Pabius clambered down from his mule, the rest of them following
"I see you still have the mind of a strategist," Gawain said with a chuckle.
Pabius shrugged. "I may be a king's son and a trained warrior, but I was never a military strategist. I have always, however, had a very active imagination."
"Imagination is a rare but brilliant characteristic in a war leader," Gawain said, thinking of the way Arthur seemed to be able to imagine the course of a battle even before the enemy had taken the positions he anticipated. "Perhaps you missed your true calling."
"No, I do not think so," Pabius said. "You see, I have no stomach for killing other men, even when they are the enemy."
* * *
Gawain found it hard to believe how uncomfortable he felt on the back of a mule, stripped of all the signs of his identity as warrior other than a short sword strapped close to his body, hidden beneath the folds of his monk's robes — where he could barely reach it if threatened. Clothed from head to foot in the garments of a Christian holy man, Gawain felt naked, not himself, ripped of everything that made him who he was. He wondered what it meant, this reaction to being without the physical trappings of his life, his identity as one of Arthur's most respected warriors. How much of himself was no more than the weapons and the armor he wore?
Hopefully they would be able to be help Ragnell, even without such trappings.
When they came out of the Elmet forest on the eastern side of the mountains, the hill-fort of Caer Camulodon was clearly visible. Below, stretched between the Elmet stronghold and the ruined Roman fort Cambodunum, was a straggling village of farms, houses and other buildings, including a marketplace, a blacksmith, an inn, and a church.
They stopped at the church first, where Pabius wanted to speak with the village priest. When he returned to their party, his expression was grim. "It is as I suspected — the hill-fort has been taken by a strange band of warriors. Ragnell's brothers and father are all dead. She has been kept alive to legitimize the kingship of the outlaw leader who killed her family. On Ragnell's instruction, the priest here claimed he had no authority to perform the holy rite of marriage, which is why I was sent for."
Gawain nodded shortly. "She sounds like a clever woman. I will send one of my men to fetch backup." He glanced at the wide hill-fort of Caer Camulodon. "Even with several of us on the inside, that fortress will not be easy to take back."
Pabius's gaze followed his. "Hopefully our lies will buy us enough time."
2
For he was clad all in green, with a straight coat, and a mantle above; all decked and lined with fur was the cloth and the hood that was thrown back from his locks and lay on his shoulders. Hose had he of the same green, and spurs of bright gold with silken fastenings richly worked; and all his vesture was verily green.
"Sir Gawain and the Green Knight" (Anonymous)
The banners now flying above the walls of Caer Camulodon were without device, simple flags of shimmering green. Gawain and Pabius and the rest of their company rode through gates thrown open in welcome after Pabius announced them. A powerful warrior in a tunic of the same shimmering green emerged from the main hall, a veiled woman on his arm, her skirts swaying with lithe grace as she walked. At least Gawain was not so far gone with disappointed love that he could not appreciate a shapely figure.
The pair stopped in front of them, and the warrior in green addressed the priest in accents of the north that brought back memories of Gawain's youth. "Well met, Father Pabius. But I do not see my future bride's cousin among your number."
Pabius clambered down from his mule, the rest of them following
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