Under A Velvet Cloak by Piers Anthony Page A

days passed. They traveled around the countryside, doing chores for sustenance. When they camped out, she would fetch wood, make a fire and heat or cook something for them to eat. Kerena began to doubt that there was any Grail to find, but didn’t say anything. After all, if it didn’t exist, then her mission had already been accomplished.
    Then at dusk, as they were making camp near a forest, close to a town, something happened. Kerena saw a glow hovering at about head height. “What is that?”
    Sir Gawain looked. His jaw dropped. “That is the Grail!”
    Now she made out some detail. It seemed to be a shining cup, floating not far ahead of them. Sir Gawain walked toward it, and so did Kerena. They did not dare remove their eyes, lest the amazing vision be lost. The cup drifted back, but they were gaining on it, mesmerized.
    Then they slipped as they stopped into some sort of pit. They slid down into a large trough filled with-
    “Shit!” Kerena exclaimed. She was speaking literally.
    It was the town refuse pit. The people dumped their buckets of human manure here, to decay into new soil.
    They scrambled out, but the damage was done. Both were soaked in kitchen garbage and fecal matter. They stank.
    The image of the Grail, of course, was gone. It occurred to Kerena that it could have been a will o wisp, sponsored by the miasma rising from the rotting substance.
    “We have to wash,” Kerena said urgently. “Everything.”
    He did not argue.
    They spied a river close enough to reach. They hurried to it and plunged in. They removed their sodden clothing and rinsed it repeatedly in the flowing water. They ducked their heads and washed their hair.
    Eventually they emerged from the water, naked, chilled, and embarrassed. Night was closing, and their soaking clothing was no good to wear until it dried on the morrow.
    “Maybe the horses will share their warmth,” Kerena said.
    “They need to be free to graze.”
    “I don’t think I can make it through the night like this,” she said, shivering violently. “I’ll make a fire.”
    She did so, but there wasn’t enough fallen wood in the vicinity to make a big blaze, and they were still shivering.
    “We must share body warmth,” Gawain said. He fetched the tarpaulin and blankets from the horses and made a bed on the ground next to the small fire.
    “I’m not sure this is wise,” Kerena said. “You are chaste; can you clasp a naked woman, however innocently?”
    “You are suffering; I do not wish that. I will endure.”
    They lay close together within it, clasping each other for scant warmth. She curled up facing the fire, and he cupped her from behind. It did help; gradually her shivering became less violent. But she knew she was tempting him. One of his arms passed over her and held her close, and one of her breasts touched it. Her bottom was against his groin, and his groin got hot. He desired her, which was hardly surprising; she had grown into a completely seductive young woman. She could probably seduce him now, but she didn’t try; it would be a betrayal of his trust in her.
    She pondered that in her waking moments. Here she was within reach of her mission, to make this man unchaste, yet she was not grasping it. Why did she care about his trust? Because, she realized, with surprise, she was becoming smitten with him. He was a truly noble man, and she respected that and liked him. She did not want to be responsible for his loss of chastity. Which was a crazy attitude, considering her mission.
    In the morning they separated. She had hung their clothing on nearby bushes to dry by the fire, and that had been effective. They dressed, and she fixed a breakfast, and checked the horses.
    “I have a confession to make,” Gawain said as they rode on, circling the dump.
    “There is no need.” She had a notion of its nature, and preferred to avoid the subject.
    “I believe there is, for I value my integrity. Last night as we shared warmth, I had untoward