The Princess, the Crone, and the Dung-Cart Knight by Gerald Morris

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

VIII

The Sword Bridge

They returned to the road, but a grim silence had fallen over the companions. Ariel, whose bubbling laugh and merry chatter had lightened the journey to this point, was solemn and silent, and twice Sarah caught the faery watching her, wide-eyed. Both times Sarah met her gaze unflinchingly, and Ariel looked away. Even Jean was more silent than usual and gave Sarah occasional long, measured looks.

Jean's disapproval was only to be expected, Sarah admitted to herself. Jean didn't know about the night of the fires and what the knight had done then. But Ariel's silence rankled. What had Ariel thought Sarah was going to do when she found the knight anyway? Scold him? Sarah shrugged and resolutely stopped looking at Ariel, concentrating instead on her own thoughts and feelings.

These were muddled enough without worrying about Ariel's reaction, anyway. For months now Sarah had thought of little but vengeance, dreamed of the day when the knight of the fires should be punished. Now he was dead, by her own hand, and she felt no triumph, only a cold numbness. She should be rejoicing and gloating, as the knight had done over her mother and Mordecai, but she could not. She felt empty and incomplete, just as she had felt before killing the knight. Maybe, she thought, it was because her vengeance was incomplete.

"What is a Templar?" she asked, speaking to no one in particular. Jean gave Sarah one of those unhurried looks but did not reply at once. "Well? What is it?" she demanded.

"Some of the knights who went on crusades to the Holy Land call themselves Templars," Jean said at last. "They wear a white tunic over their armor, marked with a red cross, and they swear allegiance to no king but only, they say, to the Church."

"Do you know where any Templars are?" she asked.

"No. King Arthur does not welcome them in England—sometimes they feel that they are a law unto themselves—and he encourages them to go back to the Holy Land. Some sorts of holiness are most admirable from a great distance. But matters may be different now. As you know, I have been away from court many years." Jean looked away from Sarah, but he added, "May one ask why you wish to know?"

"I heard the knight back in the field say the word," Sarah replied.

"Yes, so did I," Jean said. "I did not hear what you said to him, however."

Sarah did not reply, and after a moment Jean turned away and continued to walk in silence.

By the time they made camp, Sarah was thoroughly sick of the journey, the silence, and above all the invisible barrier that had come between her and the others. They ate a silent dinner, and then Ariel curled up in her blankets and went to sleep. Sarah looked at her still form for a few minutes.

"You mustn't blame her, you know," Jean said quietly.

Sarah started slightly, then schooled her face into a noncommittal expression. "Blame her for what?" she asked.

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