King of the Middle March by Kevin Crossley-Holland Page B

That’s what Merlin told me. “No one must know you own it.”
    If Sir William knew about it, he’d probably throw my stone away too.
    Sir Lancelot is sitting on one side of a blazing fire and a lady is sitting on the other. They’re in a hall with a gallery like ours at Caldicot. Two servants are standing at the foot of the stone staircase.
    â€œTo think Sir Lancelot has chosen to stay under my roof,” the lady says. “Well, as you can see, this is only a modest place, and even so I can scarcely afford its upkeep. A swarm of wild bees have taken over the tower room. I shall have to put you in the garret over the gate.”
    â€œLady Gisèle,” says Sir Lancelot. “You’ve reminded me of a song my foster mother used to sing:
“A swarm of wild bees swirled around this tower. They fizzed through the openings, and nested In the chamber. They made honey here…
    â€œI’m more than happy to stay in a house of such sweetness!”
    Lady Gisèle smiles. “And you, Sir Lancelot, have honey onyour tongue,” she says. “All I hope is that, when he is old enough, you will be so generous as to knight my young son.”
    â€œA knight who dubs a squire has a duty to him,” Sir Lancelot says very seriously. “To guide him. To support him.”
    â€œBut I don’t know whether he’ll be strong enough,” Lady Gisèle says.
    â€œThere are good and bad knights of the body,” Sir Lancelot replies, “but no bad knights of the heart.”
    Late into the night they talk, and then they stand and embrace. A servant carrying two candles leads Sir Lancelot away to his chamber.
    But then my stone began to sparkle and all I could see in it were tiny pins of light. I started to think about being knighted the day after tomorrow, and whether Milon has a duty to me, and then, when I could see into the stone once more, the full moon was already riding high and Sir Lancelot was leaping out of bed.
    He looks down from his window and sees a knight pounding on the great oak door with both gauntlets.
    â€œHelp!” shouts the knight. “Is no one there? Save me!”
    Now I can hear the sound of hooves, and three more knights gallop up. Without a word, they draw their swords, and brandish them and slash at the knight.
    Sir Lancelot quickly arms himself, ties his two sheets together, and knots one end to a window bar.
    â€œThree against one!” he shouts. “You shame yourselves.”
    Now Sir Lancelot clambers out of the window, slides down the sheets, and lands with a clank.
    â€œLeave them to me!” he yells. “An early breakfast!”
    One…two…three…after just six of Sir Lancelot’s strokes, all three knights are lying on the earth. Not one of them even tries to stand up again.
    â€œI yield to you…and I…we yield to you.”
    â€œNo!” says Sir Lancelot, turning to the man he has just saved. “Yield to him!”
    Now the man raises his visor, and to his astonishment Sir Lancelot recognizes him. It is Sir Kay.
    One of the three knights struggles, and creaks terribly, and sits up.
    â€œSir,” he says to Sir Lancelot, “whoever you may be, I will not yield to Sir Kay. But for you he would be a dead man.”
    â€œHave you no shame?” Sir Lancelot retorts. “Three against one. If any one of you had fought against Sir Kay, he would have worsted you.”
    â€œSir Kay! He’s all bluster.”
    â€œAnd blunder.”
    â€œAnd he’s foul-mouthed.”
    â€œListen to me!” Sir Lancelot growls. “Either you submit to Sir Kay, or you die.”
    â€œWe submit,” the three knights mumble.
    â€œTo Sir Kay,” says Sir Lancelot.
    â€œTo Sir Kay.”
    â€œVery well,” says Sir Lancelot. “Ride from here straight to Camelot, in time for the Pentecost Feast. Tell Queen Guinevere that Sir Kay has sent you, and she is to do with