The Squire's Quest by Gerald Morris Page B

music and the crowd delighted by the romance.
    In the main courtyard by the front gate, Terence came upon another crowd. Spotting Kai at the fringes, watching from atop a low wall, Terence skirted the throng and joined him. "What's to do here?" he asked.
    "Blasted mummers," snorted Kai.
    Terence followed his gaze and, at the center of the yard, made out several masked forms waving their arms and leaping gracefully in the air. Mummers—silent actors—were often to be found at the Christmas season, acting out the story of the nativity, but Terence didn't remember seeing them in summer before. "What are they presenting?"
    "Before they started, a herald announced that they'd be showing us 'The Allegory of the Rose,' a tale of love."
    "Oh," Terence said. "So, what's it about?"
    "Geldings in tight clothes, apparently."
    Guessing that there was more to 'The Allegory of the Rose than Kai's interpretation, Terence slipped off the wall and moved closer. There were three mummers, one of them prancing in a circle, and the other two twisted into a knot. Terence watched for a while but understood none of it. Evidently, his confusion was shared. After a few moments, a man standing beside Terence said to his neighbor, "Here, Jem, I think I got it. Those two in the bundle are a flower. They must be the rose."
    His friend, Jem, considered this. "Mebbe," he said. "Unless they're the allegory."
    "Aren't allegories long and skinny? Like snapdragons?"
    "Depends on the variety," Jem said sagely.
    They watched in silence for another minute. Then the first man said, "Mebbe it's a pansy."
    "Ay, that'd be it."
    Terence backed out ofthe crowd and walked away. A minute later, he came upon a brightly dressed minstrel, seated in a doorway strumming at a lute. As Terence approached, he raised his voice:

"I sing in praise of lovely Sarah, In all the earth is there one faireh? Her eyes are stars, her smile the sun, To be her mirror, rivers run. The flowers fade before her cheeks, Compared to her, they smell like leeks..."

    Terence moved on quickly. Over the next ten minutes he found two more minstrels, a band of acrobats engaged in spelling out the name Sarah with their bodies, and a juggler who chattered all through his presentation about how the balls and other objects he kept in the air represented such things as purity and faithfulness and humble service to the fair Sarah. The atmosphere at court was like a St. Bartholomew's Day fair, and various enterprising townspeople were already setting up stalls to sell their wares to the gawking crowds, adding to the general confusion. Off to one side, out of the bustle, Terence made out the slim form of Alexander's counselor, Acoriondes, watching from beside the stables. Skirting a troupe of dancers, Terence joined him.
    "Good morning, sir," Terence said.
    Acoriondes nodded. "Good morning, Squire Terence. I did not know you were back at Camelot."
    "I returned two nights ago," Terence replied. He indicated the dancers with a nod. "All this must have cost your master a great deal of money and bother."
    Acoriondes started to speak, then closed his mouth again.
    Terence waited a moment, then asked, "Out of curiosity, what does he expect to accomplish?"
    A pained expression flitted across Acoriondes's face. "None of this is my master's doing. The emperor's only mistake—a grave mistake in my estimation—was in giving his brother, Cligés, permission to arrange these displays of love. Cligés swears that this is the usual way of courtship at Camelot. All the tales say this. Is it indeed so?"
    Terence grinned. "No," he said.
    "I see," Acoriondes murmured. For a minute he seemed lost in thought. Then, abruptly, he asked, "Forgive me for prying, but since our arrival here I have heard much about you and your adventures with Sir Gawain. I have also heard that you are a friend of Lady Sarah s. Is this so?"
    "Yes."
    "From your knowledge of the lady, do you imagine that these, ah, performances will spark