The Reckless Oath We Made(62)

“I don’t want you to pout about this,” my mother said. “You know I’m right.”

They waited, for they would hear my answer. I had come to them a child whose native tongue was a scream. I learnt to speak. I earned proof of my learning, and took up a trade. I was accountable to myself, and oftentimes for Trang and Elana.

From thence I had started, and I grew into a man. They knew all this and still they doubted. I knew only that if I was not ready then, I never would be.

A knight tethered to his father’s keep was more akin to a dog. Much as ’twas an oath I swore to be my lady’s champion, ’twas also that I desired to prove myself. I believed I was worthy, but were I not tested, I could not know. I was Yvain, ever in the shadow of Sir Kay and Sir Gawain. Were I to wait til I was granted leave to go, I should have no adventures. I should live no life but a very narrow one.

“My lady mother, I would not distress thee,” I said. “But thou hast no fair reason to keep me from this journey.”

“I absolutely forbid it. You barely know that girl. And her uncle? The whole situation is . . .”

Where my mother found not the word she sought, my father supplied it: “The situation is troubling. The fact that you don’t see it is a damn good reason to keep you from going.”

“Where’s Gentry going?” Elana said, and came forth from the dining hall, for we had made such a noise she could not keep her mind upon her studies.

“Gentry isn’t going anywhere, except to bed, and then to work tonight,” my mother said. Were her will enough, it might have been so, but ’twas not.

“Nay, my lady, I go this hour to Missouri that I might help Lady Zhorzha.”

“Absolutely not! You are not going.”

My mother clenched her hands fistwise, and I feared she would pierce them with her nails, for I knew them to be sharp. Yet I would not be made to obey like a dog or a child. I gathered my satchel and made sure of my keys in my pocket.

“Son, this has gone too far,” my father said.

“Don’t think you can disrespect me when you live under my roof,” said my mother.

“Charlene, let’s not go there.”

“Oh, we’re already there. Your son needs to know he can be out on his rear just like Carlees, if he can’t obey my rules.”

I recalled well those months when in his youth Carlees went out from hearth and home. They weren dark times, for he was sore missed. To hear such words cast me down. I wished not to be unsheltered and unloved.

“’Tis not love thy mother would deny thee, but freedom,” the Witch said. “She would fright thee with her rebuke.”

“Such a knight as to be frighted by his mother’s plaints,” Gawen said, ever eager to shame me.

“I am not afraid,” I said. Tho I willed it not, I put my satchel upon my shoulder that I might lay mine hands upon my neck.

“You’re upsetting him,” my father said.

“Let him be upset,” said my mother. “He needs to think about this.”

As though I gave it no thought.

“If thou wilt send me out of thy keep for it, I doubt not thy right. I mean no scorn, ne for thee ne for my father, but methinks I am a man, and may do as I see best. I shall see you upon my return,” I said and bowed to them.

When I went out, my mother remained within, but my father followed after.

“Your mother is very upset,” he said.

“And I am sorry, for I would not distress her, but I swore to serve Lady Zhorzha in all ways.”

“I know, son. I understand an oath like that is important. Just promise me that you’ll be careful.” He put out his hand to me, and I clasped it ere I departed, but I made him no promise, for what knight ever vowed ride under a banner of caution?

I made straightaway for the dragon’s lair, lest I miss my lady. Mayhap the dragon was as wroth as mine own mother, for ’twas very little time I waited ere Lady Zhorzha came forth. She walked not to where I stood, but to her own car, and thence looked at me.

“I didn’t expect to see you,” she said. “Your mom seemed really mad.”

“She is ill-pleased, but she cedeth ’tis my right to do as I will.”

“Are you sure about this? Because I really don’t want to drag you into something.”

“My lady, when I swore to be thy champion, ’twas ne poesy ne chatter. I stand ready and eager to serve thee. Tho ’tis better we should travel in my truck, for I think it more well-proved.”

“Probably so.” Mayhap her hip pained her, for she leant against her car and lifted her foot from the ground. I waited that she might say what she wished, but she spake no more. I perceived I must lay upon our keep the next stone, tho ’twas heavy.

“If thou wilt not have me as thy champion by cause thou hast no faith I can protect thee, I will say no more. If thou wilt not have me at thy side for mine own protection, thou art unjust. I am no child. I am strong enough to carry thee, and I am not afraid.”

“I know you’re not a child. But I don’t know what’s going to happen,” she said. For some moments, she was silent, her gaze upon the sky beyond me. Much akin to me when I am folded within myself.

“Is it thy desire to go alone?”

She looked upon me then, and I looked back, tho ’twas a privity that bared me to her utterly. For the nonce we weren two together. Bonded, as the black knight said.