The Savage Knight

Annwen rolled her eyes and sighed theatrically. “I said no and I meant no. Do you think I would not have seen them?”

Dodinal raised a hand in apology.

They remained there for the night. Eventually the children slept, huddled together for warmth, and Dodinal stayed awake to watch over them. When the sky began to brighten, he stood and surveyed the valley. Where the forest had been was now a jumble of blackened stumps and twisted wood. Nothing moved. The lake was calm, its waters black and oily, dotted with scores of small shapes. Was it too much to hope the creatures had all perished, either by fire or by water? The pass was the only way in or out of the valley. Annwen had been insistent nothing had passed her.

A miracle? Perhaps.

The sun nudged over the mountains.

Dodinal gently shook the children awake.

“Come on,” he said. “It’s time we were heading home.”

¹²First appearing in Perlesvaus, the Questing Beast is the most famous monster of Arthurian legend. The name refers to the sound the creature makes; in Middle English, the barking of hunting dogs was sometimes known as questing. The Beast is commonly used as a symbol of incest and the breakdown of society, appearing to Arthur the morning after he slept with his half- sister, Morgause, and fathered his murderous bastard son, Mordred.

EPILOGUE

The fire crackled in its hearth. The smell of roast meat still hung in the air. While they were gone, the old man had hunted and brought down a goat, and on their return he had roasted a haunch in their honour. Like Hywel, he had been desperate to know what had happened in the hills, but they had been too tired to talk, other than to confirm what the absence of their friends implied.

Now, with his belly full and his aching legs rested, Dodinal told them the story from beginning to end, leaving out nothing. They were astonished by his description of the Questing Beast. Truth be told, he was still having trouble believing it himself.

“You are certain they all perished?” Gerwyn asked. He had made it no further than the bottom of the mountain before night fell, and had done as Dodinal had advised, setting a fire from fallen branches to keep him warm until dawn. He had slept late while his bruised and battered body recovered, and had not made much progress along the lake by the time Dodinal and the children caught up with him. He had seemed genuinely overwhelmed to see his nephew unharmed, and had held him, wordlessly, for quite some time.

Dodinal had snapped off two forked branches and fashioned him a pair of makeshift but sturdy crutches. The two men and their charges were back in the old village by mid afternoon.

“I’m certain. You didn’t see it. The fire… nothing could have lived through that. It was a miracle we survived,” Dodinal added.

Hywel said nothing. The bruise on his head was already fading and his vision, though blurred, was slowly returning. But he had been grief-stricken to hear of the death of his close friend Emlyn.

“This strange beast of which you spoke,” Gerwyn continued.

“The Questing Beast.”

“Yes. It killed the children they brought it?”

Dodinal shook his head. He had considered this same question while they had made their way out of the valley. When the creature had jumped on the slab and stretched its hand out to Owain, Dodinal had naturally assumed it meant to kill him. Having thought it over, he realised the creature was trying to encourage the young. The message in the gesture was clear. Here is your prey. Take it. It’s yours. The adults brought the children there, but it was the young that tore them apart. It was not about worship, or at least not worship alone. It was about jealousy, revenge and hatred. The knowledge of what they were, the memory of who had made them, had been passed down from generation to generation. “No, the creatures did that.”

The old man spoke. “From what you said of the noise it made, the baying of many hounds, it must have been the same beast we heard all those years ago. The sound of it drove us insane, made us commit a great sin. Were it not for the Questing Beast, none of this would have happened. Now it is dead, I have perhaps been forgiven. And for that, Dodinal, you have my eternal gratitude.”

Dodinal nodded in acknowledgement but said nothing. He was not convinced the old man was right. Yes, it would have been the Questing Beast the villagers had heard. What was not so certain was whether it was the beast that had made father sleep with daughter and mother with son. In a village this remote there must have been temptation, especially when a fierce winter had rendered it more isolated than usual. Perhaps it was the villagers’ unnatural lust that had drawn the beast to them. If so, then the incestuous rutting of the creatures they spawned would have drawn it back to the valley.

It could have been a reluctant god, its roar a cry of torment.

Perhaps. Perhaps not. Dodinal would never know.

Neither could he say the beast was dead. It had appeared out of nowhere and had gone the same way. He would be sure to tell the Saracen, when next he saw him. Palomides may be fated never to find it, but this was as good a place as any to start looking.

They made small talk for a while until exhaustion overcame them. They were asleep before sunset and woke before dawn.

“Are you sure you won’t come with us?” Hywel asked the old man, as they readied to leave. The hunter had perked up a little. It must have been the imminent prospect of returning home. “We would not speak of what happened here. You would be made welcome.”

The old man shook his head. “Thank you, but you and your friends have done enough for me already. I don’t know how much time I have left, but what I do have I would prefer to spend here in my home, now that the ghosts of the past no longer haunt me.”

They said their farewells and left him.

Gerwyn needed help climbing out of the valley, but was otherwise surprisingly adept with the crutches. They made good progress, even allowing for the children, and reached the edge of the forest by noon. They halted in the shade of the trees and ate cold meat which the old man had given them. Lost in thought, Dodinal stared at the mountains while he chewed. Eventually, Gerwyn suggested it was time they continued their journey, and Hywel helped him to his feet.

“Wait,” Dodinal told them.

Gerwyn raised an eyebrow. “The longer we sit around here, the longer it will take us to get home. I’d rather push on.”

“I have something to tell you.” He hesitated.

Then he took a moment to tell them who he was. Where he’d come from.

Both men looked thunderstruck. Then Hywel shrugged. “I knew there was something different about you. A traveller who fought as well as you… I should have guessed. Anything else you’d like to share with us, Sir Dodinal?”

“Yes. I’m not coming with you.”

He raised a hand to silence their immediate cries of protest. “As much as I want to, I cannot.”

“Why not?” Gerwyn demanded. “You promised Rhiannon.”

“I promised her I would return. And I will. But not today.”

“When, then? And what am I supposed to tell her?”

“Tell her…” He considered his words for a moment. “Tell her I have healed a great wound. But there are other wounds in this world that need healing. She knows what I am, as do you. I am a knight of Camelot. I swore the King’s Oath.¹³ I have to uphold it.”

“Have to or want to?” Gerwyn fired back bitterly.

“Not long ago, you wanted me gone,” Dodinal said with a smile. “Now you don’t want me to leave. I wish