R6 Gerraint: Enid, part 3 of 3

Gerraint said no more.  It was not just the unfair treatment of Ynywl, Guinevak and Enid that bothered him.  Caerdyf should be free of Irish pirates; especially ex-slavers.  “Is there a place I can lie down?” he asked.

Ynywl pointed to his daughter.  “Enid will show you,” he said, and let out a deep breath like a man who got stuck in a tight place with nowhere to turn.

Enid got candles and escorted Gerraint and Uwaine to a fine room with a big double bed.  They had a chair beside the fireplace, and she went about lighting the fire and fluffing the chair cushions as well as they could fluff.  She pulled an extra blanket out of a cedar chest at the foot of the bed and laid it next to the one already on the bed.

“You are going to fight Fenn, aren’t you?” she said, in a frank and forward way.  “You should not.” She turned to Gerraint who looked around at the high but well-worn quality of the room.  It looked much like the rest of the house.  There were no servants to keep things up and maintain the home, though it all appeared very clean and tidy.  He got especially taken with the bits of Roman armor on display over the fireplace.  The chain looked old and rusted, the helmet had a dent, but had been polished along with the breastplate.  A great spear sat in the corner of the room, though it looked more like a forgotten stage prop than a weapon.

Enid placed her hand gently on Gerraint’s chest to get his attention and looked up into his smiling eyes.  “He is a mean and evil fighter who shows no quarter.  You helped me in my time of need.  I would hate to see you get hurt in return.”

Gerraint covered her small hand with his big hand and smiled, deeply.  He wanted to keep her hand close to his heart.  “But tell me, whose armor is this?”  He let go and sat in the chair so as to not be such an imposing sight.

“My great-grandfather,” Enid said.  She had to take a second to remove the smile from her lips.

“The Roman?” Gerraint asked, though he knew the answer.  “Uwaine.” He made his squire get up from the bed where he already lay on his back.  “See if any of it is useable.”

Uwaine got up slowly and looked close while Enid stirred the fire.  “I would not touch the chain,” he said.  “Too much rust, but the breastplate looks in fair shape.  No cracks.  This helmet needs work.”  He took it down, found a loose piece of brick from the fireplace and went to work, hammering out the dent.

“Sir?”  Enid looked up at Gerraint.

“I thought I might wear a bit of it tomorrow, with your permission.  It might remind the people who they are.  They came here to defend this coast, not to hand it over to a bunch of Irish scoundrels. The people might be willing to throw the Irish out, even if Fenn cuts my heart out.”

“Sir,” Enid shifted to sit at his feet and reached up to put her hand gently on his knee.  “I wouldn’t like to see that happen.”  She meant it, and a good bit more.

“I appreciate the affection,” Gerraint said. “But shouldn’t you save that concern for your husband?”

Enid hesitated, but finally withdrew her hand and placed it in her lap.  She looked down while she spoke.  “We have been prisoners here for seven years.  I was a child of fourteen when Megalis decreed that I would never marry unless Father gave him the treasure.  I had suitors.”

“Many, I imagine.”  Gerraint honestly felt stunned by her beauty and imagined he might never tire of such a sight.

“One in particular, but Megalis found out and had him executed.  That happened three years ago.  I turned eighteen.  Now I will be twenty-one in a month and that is getting too old for marriage.  I expect to die an old maid because there is no treasure.”

“I think you are your father’s best treasure,” Gerraint said, and he reached down, took her hand and returned it to his knee. They simply looked eye to eye to judge the measure of what they might be seeing and feeling.  Uwaine stopped banging and stood up.  “Where are you going?” Gerraint asked.

“I have to go outside to work on this,” he said. “I’ll never get it done with you two on about it.  It’s getting too stuffy in here.”  And he left.

Gerraint laughed which caused Enid to laugh and that temporarily broke the serious mood.  “I have every confidence in that boy,” Gerraint said.  “Percival himself taught Uwaine the value of a stone for taking the dents out of helmets.”

Enid looked shocked.  “Sir.  Once again you speak of such a noble man with the ease of familiarity.  I have heard of Sir Percival.  They say he is a great man of faith and learning.”

Gerraint cocked one eyebrow.  He was not sure how much actual learning Percival had done, unless she meant life learning.  “They are great men at the Round Table, each in his own way, I suppose.  But it is hard not to be familiar with such men when you have fought side by side with greatness.”

“Oh, but there is one at Arthur’s Round Table that frightens me, terribly.  I believe he may be a devil sent to test the faith of those other sainted men.” Gerraint nodded and thought of Meryddin. It was not yet well known that Meryddin had disappeared, but Enid had not finished.  “I only hesitate to say because you are from Cornwall yourself, and I mean no offense.”

Gerraint cocked one eyebrow.  “Please tell.”

Enid pulled up close like one afraid to speak too loud.  She raised her other hand to have both on his knee and pressed her full and firm breasts up against his leg, which he imagined she did in pure innocence, but which set his mind racing so he could hardly comprehend her words.

***********************

MONDAY

It appears Gerraint is going to fight the Irish pirate in the morning.  In the present, however, things in the room are heating up nicely, and it is getting a bit stuffy.  MONDAY (Tuesday and Wednesday), the story turns to the fort of Caerdyf.

Until then, Happy Reading

*

R6 Gerraint: Enid, part 2 of 3

Gerraint growled.  “Take care.  I have no compunction against killing men and you are a man, little though you be.”

The little man quieted.  The woman on horseback waved and the soldiers went to their own waiting horses.  She had a final word.  “We shall see what makes you afraid.  Come to Caerdyf,  tomorrow, and my champion will cut your heart out.”  She turned her horse and started off at a brisk trot.  The little man and soldiers were obliged to follow.  Only then did Gerraint realize he still held the young woman’s hand.  She grinned up at him and did not seem to mind in the least.  Gerraint thought she was lovely and did not mind either…so he immediately let go.

“I thank you for your kindness,” the old man said.  “But it will do no good in the end.”

“How so?” Uwaine became the one who asked while he smiled at Gerraint’s unease next to the beauty.

“My nephew,” he said.  “But it is a bit of a story.  My name is Ynywl, my wife Guinevak and my daughter Enid.”

“I am Goreu, and my young friend is Uwaine”

“I detect Cornish in your words, and you wear the lion.”

Uwaine held his tongue.  In those days, they were calling Gerraint the Lion of Cornwall.

“Yes,” Gerraint said.  “But my friend is from here, in South Wales, and I promised to take him home before I crossed the channel.”

“From this area?” Ynywl looked hopeful.  “I may know your parents?”

“Yes,” Uwaine started, but Gerraint interrupted.

“Probably not.  Simple farmers.  But tell me about this nephew.”

“It is a story.  Come inside.  Enid is a fine cook and we can put you up for the night, as you wish.”

Uwaine came in after caring for the horses, and sat to hear the story while Enid served boiled beef and bread.  She sat by her mother and looked suddenly shy. Gerraint tried not to stare, but he felt smitten by her looks and surprised that she seemed to have a brain inside that head.  Instead, Gerraint stared around the house.  It looked sturdy, but filled with furniture and decorations which were probably very fine twenty or thirty years ago.  At this point, it all looked rundown and used.

“My great-grandfather,” Ynywl began.  “He was a Roman, a centurion who came here with a company of men to build a fort to watch the coast.  Caerdyf became the result, and the town grew around it.  My Grandfather began the city wall and my father finished it.  The plague of piracy that Wales has suffered in these last fifty years did not get far here. My forefathers kept a strong watch on the coast.

“My own father had two sons.  My brother Dyfuss, the eldest, lived as a weak and sickly child. He married and had a son, but he was never strong.  So, my father left him the main part of the land, but he left me Caerdyf and some land surrounding it to support it and much on the coast.  Dyfuss felt happy with that arrangement, but he died young, and in time his son Megalis got greedy.

“Megalis heard the rumor of pirates, that I had a fortune in gold, secreted away and buried somewhere.  He wanted it, and if I had such a fortune, I would have given it to him.  But he did not believe me when I said it did not exist.  He raised what men he had and depended heavily on Irish mercenaries and prates.  Megalis is not what one would call a smart man.  The Irish controlled him through the rumor and the woman you saw, and in this way finally succeeded where the pirates always failed before in Caerdyf.”

“But how did they take the fort?” Gerraint asked. “It looks strong from this distance and surely you had loyal men.”

“I did.  But I surrendered the fort rather than see my own people killing each other and brother fighting against brother.  Now Megalis has abandoned his fine home and moved into the fort.  He has dug up most of the fort and large portions of the town and countryside looking for the treasure which I am convinced the Irish know is fake.  But they keep the thought alive because it maintains their power.  The woman, Erin, has come to believe their own lie.”

“Always a problem when you begin to lie, that in time you may begin to believe it,” Gerraint said plainly to Uwaine, who simply nodded and enjoyed the food.

Megalis has given us this place and kept us alive up to this point because we supposedly know where the treasure is. But after seven long years his patience is wearing thin.  I fear he will eventually be done with us.”

“And leave the Irish in control of Caerdyf? Does Arthur know about this?”

Guinevak looked at the big soldier and spoke her mind. “You speak of the Pendragon with easy familiarity.”

“It is hard to keep formalities on the battlefield,” Gerraint gave the obvious answer.

“No,” Ynywl answered Gerraint’s question.  “Why should I appeal to Arthur and his fine men of the Round Table.  Caerdyf is my nephew’s, by rights as son of the eldest son.”

“Megalis maybe.”  Gerraint got serious.  “But the Irish have no rights here and have been warned.  And how many are there in Caerdyf?”

“Only about twenty under Fenn, but they make the rules and the people have suffered.”

“Fenn is the Lady’s champion?” Uwaine asked, his appetite temporarily satisfied.

“Yes,” Enid said, and looked only once at Gerraint before she looked down.

“Yes,” Ynywl said at the same time.  “He is as big as Goreu here, but mean and cruel.  I heard before he came to Caerdyf, he trafficked in slaves to Ireland.  He is an excellent fighter.  No one has beaten him, and that is why I recommend you leave first thing in the morning. You should not risk your own injury and death on our account.”