The Return of Sir Percival by S. Alexander O'Keefe Page B

coin. He gazed at the fine details of the portrait and then turned the pendant over, revealing an oak tree with a crucifix on the broad trunk.
    â€œIt was made by one of the finest craftsmen in the land,” Percival said as he stared up at the stars beginning to appear in the night sky. “It is a likeness of Guinevere when she was twenty-one years of age. She will be ten years older now, if she still lives.” He turned toward Capussa and gestured to the gold medallion. “If I die before my quest is finished, I would ask that you bring this to her. It will identify you as the holder of my last testament.”
    Capussa turned the gold piece over again and stared at the image of the woman for a long moment before handing the chain and medallion back to Percival. The Knight gently lifted the chain over his head and returned the gold likeness to its resting place.
    â€œYour Queen will recognize this medallion?”
    â€œYes, she will surely remember it,” Percival said as he stared into the flames of the campfire.
    Capussa looked over at his friend for a long moment and then said quietly, “She gave it to you.”
    â€œShe did,” Percival said, nodding slowly as if remembering the moment. “The likeness … it does not do her justice. She is … a most beautiful woman.”
    â€œI see. So, in the event you find yourself upon the wrong end of a sword, my mission is to relieve you of this remembrance and then find a ‘most beautiful woman’ in an unknown land?” Capussa said as he made a sweeping gesture toward the distant horizon. “Unless every other woman in this land is a hag, that task may well be beyond even my abilities. Might you add a few more brush strokes to the picture?”
    â€œI suspect I must,” Percival said in feigned exasperation as he glanced over at Capussa, “or seek refuge in the nearby swamp to obtain a night’s rest.”
    For a long moment the Knight was silent, as if drawing a memory from a distant well, and then he spoke in a quiet, reflective voice.
    â€œHer hair is the color of the last rays of the autumn sun, and it flows like a river from her head almost to her waist. Her face is … unforgettable. There is no one feature I can point to, but taken together, the blue eyes, the full red lips, the way that she smiles, it’s … magic. Trust me, my friend, you will know Guinevere when you meet her.”
    Capussa frowned slightly. “Knight, you go to a different place when you speak of this woman. Was there—”
    â€œI was one of her guardians. That is all.”
    Capussa waited a moment for him to continue, and when he didn’t, the Numidian stood and made a sweeping gesture encompassing the land to the north.
    â€œAnd where, in this green isle, shall I find this beauteous woman?”
    â€œI cannot say for sure, but I believe she would have taken refuge with her people in the forests to the northwest, about ten to twelve days ride from here. Her ancestral lands are there, and any invader who sought to harm her would find a bowman waiting behind every tree.”
    â€œShow me the way to this place, in the dirt, here,” Capussa said, pointing at a patch of bare ground directly in front of the bench. “Use that stick as your quill.”
    Percival picked up the nearby stick and drew an oblong shape in the dirt and then added a series of circles connected by lines. Leaning back to observe his work, he tapped the stick on one of the lines that ran north.
    â€œHere is the Roman road to Londinium. We are just about here,” he said, touching a small circle, “two days’ ride from Londinium. We will pass by the city on the high road. It runs along the south bank of the Tamesis River. From there, we travel northwest to Venonis and then on to Viroconium. We shall seek word of Guinevere there.”
    â€œVery well then,” Capussa said, returning to his place on the bench.