Axl held Beatrice’s arm as she lowered herself down onto the gnarled roots of the oak, then he sat down himself between his wife and the old knight. He felt immediately grateful for the mossy bark behind him, the songbirds jostling above, and when the bread was passed, it was soft and fresh. Beatrice leant her head against his shoulder, and her chest rose and fell for a while before she too began to eat with relish.
But Wistan had not sat down. After giggling, and otherwise amply displaying his idiocy to the old knight, he had wandered away to where Edwin was standing in the tall grass, holding his mare. Then Beatrice, finishing her bread, sat forward to address the stranger.
“You must forgive my not greeting you sooner, sir,” she said. “But it’s not often we see a knight and I was awe-struck by the thought. I hope you weren’t offended.”
“Not offended at all, mistress, and glad of your company. Is your journey still a long one?”
“Our son’s village is another day away now we’re come by the mountain road, wishing to visit a wise monk at the monastery in these hills.”
“Ah, the holy fathers. I’m sure they’ll receive you kindly. They were a great help to Horace last spring when he had a poisoned hoof and I feared he wouldn’t be spared. And I myself, recovering some years ago from a fall, found much comfort in their balms. But if you seek a cure for your mute, I fear it’s only God himself can bring speech to his lips.”
The knight had said this glancing towards Wistan, only to find the latter walking towards him, the foolish look vanished from his features.
“Allow me then to surprise you, sir,” he said. “Speech is restored to me.”
The old knight started, then, armour creaking, twisted round to glare enquiringly at Axl.
“Don’t blame my friends, sir knight,” Wistan said. “They were only doing as I begged them. But now there’s no cause to fear you, I would cast off my disguise. Please forgive me.”
“I don’t mind, sir,” the old knight said, “for it’s as well in this world to be cautious. But tell me now what sort you are that I in turn have no cause to fear you.”
“The name is Wistan, sir, from the fenlands in the east, travelling these parts on my king’s errand.”
“Ah. Far from home indeed.”
“Far from home, sir, and these roads should be strange to me. Yet at each turn it’s as if another distant memory stirs.”
“It must be then, sir, you came this way before.”
“It must be so, and I heard I was born not in the fens but in a country further west of here. All the more fortunate then to chance upon you, sir, supposing you might be Sir Gawain, from those same western lands, well known to ride in these parts.”
“I’m Gawain, right enough, nephew of the great Arthur who once ruled these lands with such wisdom and justice. I was settled many years in the west, but these days Horace and I travel where we may.”
“If my hours were my own, I’d ride west this very day and breathe the air of that country. But I’m obliged to complete my errand and hurry back with news of it. Yet it’s an honour indeed to meet a knight of the great Arthur, and a nephew at that. Saxon though I am, his name is one I hold in esteem.”
“I take pleasure in hearing you say so, sir.”
“Sir Gawain, with my speech so miraculously restored, I would ask a small question of you.”
“Ask freely.”
“This gentleman now sits beside you, he’s the good Master Axl, a farmer from a Christian village two days away. A man of familiar years to yourself. Sir Gawain, I ask you now, turn and look carefully at him. Is his face one you’ve seen before, though a long time ago?”
“Good heavens, Master Wistan!” Beatrice, who Axl thought had fallen asleep, was leaning forward again. “What is this you ask?”
“I mean no harm, mistress. Sir Gawain being from the west country, I fancy he might have glimpsed your husband in days past. What harm’s in it?”
“Master Wistan,” Axl said, “I’ve seen you look strangely at me from time to time since our first meeting, and waited for some account of it. What is it you believe me to be?”
Wistan, who had been standing over where they were sitting three abreast beneath the great oak, now crouched down onto his heels. Perhaps he had done so to appear less challenging, but to Axl it was almost as if the warrior was wishing to scrutinise their faces more closely.
“Let’s for now have Sir Gawain do as I ask,” Wistan said, “and it’s only a small turn of his head needed. See it as a childish game if you will. I beg you, sir, look at this man beside you and say if you’ve ever seen him in days past.”
Sir Gawain gave a chuckle, and moved his torso forward. He seemed eager for amusement, as though indeed he had just been invited to participate in a game. But as he gazed into Axl’s face, his expression changed to one of surprise — even of shock. Instinctively, Axl turned away, just as the old knight appeared almost to push himself backwards into the tree trunk.
“Well, sir?” Wistan asked, watching with interest.
“I don’t believe this gentleman and I met till today,” said Sir Gawain.
“Are you sure? The years can be a rich disguise.”
“Master Wistan,” Beatrice interrupted, “what is it you search for in my husband’s face? Why ask such a thing of this kind knight, until this moment a stranger to us all?”
“Forgive me, mistress. This country awakens so many memories, though each seems like some restless sparrow I know will flee any moment into the breeze. Your husband’s face has all day promised me an important remembrance, and if truth be told, that was a reason for my proposing to travel with you, though I sincerely wish to see you both safely through these wild roads.”
“But why would you know my husband from the west when he’s always lived in country nearby?”
“Never mind it, princess. Master Wistan has confused me for someone he once knew.”
“That’s what it must be, friends!” said Sir Gawain. “Horace and I often mistake a face for one from the past. See there, Horace, I say. That’s our old friend Tudur before us on the road, and we thought he fell at Mount Badon. Then we ride closer and Horace will give a snort, as if to say, what a fool you are, Gawain, this fellow’s young enough to be his grandson, and with not even a passing likeness!”
“Master Wistan,” Beatrice said, “tell me this much. Does my husband remind you of one you loved as a child? Or is it one you dreaded?”
“Best leave it now, princess.”
But Wistan, rocking gently on his heels, was gazing steadily at Axl. “I believe it must be one I loved, mistress. For when we met this morning, my heart leapt for joy. And yet before long …” He went on looking at Axl silently, his eyes almost dreamlike. Then his face darkened, and rising to his feet again, the warrior turned away. “I can’t answer you, Mistress Beatrice, for I know not myself. I supposed by travelling beside you the memories would awaken, but they’ve not yet done so. Sir Gawain, are you well?”