Excerpt from Good Knights: The Swithen Book Eight

The story of Balin le Savage, the Knight with Two Swords, reaches a conclusion in Good Knights: The Swithen Book Eight. In the last book, Balin spent the bulk of the time trying to win back King Arthur’s favor after having been expelled from the court. He met with Arthur just after a knight passed by, weeping. Arthur said he would welcome Balin back into the court, but first, Balin could do the small favor of bringing the knight back so that King Arthur could know why he is so sad. As you will see, this sets another adventure in motion.

Pre-order Good Knights: The Swithen Book Eight at Amazon.

---

Balin entered the woods in the direction the king pointed and soon came to a clearing where a knight sat on a rock, held and comforted by a maiden. The knight leaned forward onto his knees, hair disheveled and face pink, eyes reddened. The maiden sat close with her arm over his shoulder. She had light brown hair tied back in a braid that lay across her shoulder and a pleasant face that showed no guile. Her features were held steady and she spoke with an even tone.

“What help is it to sit and lament?” she asked. “If you don’t do it, someone else will.”

“Let them do it,” he replied, “though I’d be forsworn.” He shook his head and his eyes squeezed again. “I’d rather have been dead these ten years than have to follow this adventure.”

“If it has to happen,” she said, flaring her eyes, “what difference if it is by you or someone else?”

“Let it be someone else!” he said, rising to stand and turning to her. “It makes all the difference. It only must be me because my father understands nothing but battle.” He bent, putting his face close to hers. “Why don’t you do it, if it doesn’t matter?”

She kept her gaze low. “You know it isn’t like that.”

The knight turned and paced in a circle. “I’m sorry if my lamenting is such a burden to you, but you don’t have to go through with it, and I—”

He stopped, drawing straight, seeing Balin standing in the clearing. The maiden turned her head, then stood as well.

Balin put his hand over his heart. “Pardon me, my lord, may God keep you.”

The knight eyed him. “And you.”

“I am sorry to bother you,” Balin said, “but I’d like to ask you a small favor that will do me much good and you no harm.” 

He waited while the knight’s eyes looked him over.

“What is the favor?” the knight asked. 

“I’d like you, for the sake of God and chivalry, to turn back and speak to the man who asked after you back there.”

The knight’s eyes closed. “What does he want?”

“That man was King Arthur himself,” Balin said. The knight’s face did not alter. “And he wishes to know why you made such lamentation.”

“Even the king wants to know,” huffed the maiden.

The knight glanced at her with scowling face, then turned to Balin. 

“My lord, I am sorry to differ with you, but doing that would cause me immense harm.” He placed his hands on his hips and shook his head. “I couldn’t for anything turn back at this time. I must go on, although I do not want to.”

“Oh, I am sorry to hear you say that,” Balin said. He lowered his gaze.

“It is not because of pride,” said the knight, “but the urgency of the quest to which I’ve entered.”

“And you could not turn back just shortly?” Balin asked. “If you do not, you have ruined my trust, for I promised King Arthur I would bring you, one way or another.”

“Why would you promise what you cannot be sure to deliver?” asked the maiden.

“I know that if I go back,” said the knight, “evil will befall me. I’m sorry for your promise, but I cannot turn back now.”

Balin stood, face angled down. He nodded. Then his hand moved to rest on the hilt of his sword. “I am sorry for you to say that,” he said. “Because if you do not turn back, I’m afraid you will make me commit a base act.”

The knight and maiden’s eyes fixed on Balin’s fingers. They went still.

Balin bent his head. His voice emerged very low. “If you will not come back, I am prepared,” his hand moved down to grip his sword, “to make you want to come.”

The maiden’s arms fell. The knight stood tall, eyes glaring. “Are you serious? I will have to fight you if I do not turn back?”

“It troubles me, deeply it does,” Balin said, “but I promised the king I would bring you back any way I could.”

“You may be forsworn, but where is your courtesy?” the maiden asked.

“I’ve never heard of such madness,” added the knight.

“It troubles me,” Balin repeated, “but after all that has befallen me, I cannot break my promise to King Arthur.”

“You were stupid to promise it!” the maiden shouted.

Balin’s eyes shifted to her, then back to the knight.

The man stared at Balin in a glare of disbelief, then his brow grew rounded and his eyes wet. He raised a clenched fist to his forehead. “Why is this happening to me?” he wailed, tears spilling over his reddening cheeks. He turned away. “This quest is bad enough. What have I done that this fate is attached to me?”

Balin stepped forward. “That’s what king Arthur wants to know.”

“But if I go back with you,” the man blubbered, “evil will come to me in some way. He is out there. He will destroy me. And I’ll have to leave my quest, one I never wanted, and who will bring it to completion when I fail? Who will take it up?”

“I will take up your quest,” Balin said, taking a step forward. “If anything happens to you in returning to King Arthur for me, I am obliged to complete your quest. I will never leave it until death, if I am not able to achieve it.”

“Is this your promise?” the knight asked. He turned to Balin and stood straighter, looking directly at him.

Balin nodded, brow nettled. He looked the knight in the eye and nodded again. “I promise I will complete your quest.”

“If you make this promise on your life, I will return with you.”

“I promise it,” Balin said, “on my life.”

“He promised the king to bring you before he even knew you,” the maiden said. “He gives out promises like sweets.”

The knights remained quiet for a moment.

“If you promise that, I will return with you to the king,” said the knight. “And know this, if anything happens to me, if will be your fault. I go back under your protection. If I am hurt, the blame will fall on you.”

“It will be my responsibility,” Balin said eagerly, lifting and falling on his feet. He pictured Arthur’s pleased face when the knight came once more into view.

The maiden huffed a harsh breath, raising her hands to either side of her head as she turned away. The knight took a step toward her, holding out a hand.

“I will be back in just a moment.”

“You hope,” she replied, not turning. 

His hand dropped. He lowered his eyes, sighed and ambled toward his horse. He undid the reins from the tree and stepped up onto it. Balin mounted his and they rode one after another down the path that led back to the king.

Balin rode in front, straining to keep his pace moderate, much as he wanted to gallop back and show the king he had fulfilled his command. He passed a space in the boughs on his right that drew his eye, although he could see nothing strange about it. The footfalls of the horse following him were heard steadily. 

As the path wound, it revealed the white posts and hanging sheets of the bed where Arthur lay. The king saw him and turned his head, then lifted himself on his arms. A tightness that had held him for months melted from Balin’s chest. He imagined himself in Arthur’s court again, home, admired and accepted. His brother would be with him soon. Balan would hear that Balin was with Arthur and come back right away.

A smile came to his face as he led the knight toward the king. Then unusual sounds, the rhythm of another horse’s footfalls behind him. They sounded too fast to be the knight following. 

The sound increased, reaching a crescendo with a sharp utterance of malice, accompanied by a bellow from the knight he was leading. Balin turned in time to see him rock in the saddle, the diagonal line of a lance through his chest. It emerged out the other side. Balin’s eyes grew wide. 

As he watched, the knight slid to the right as he groaned, then dropped from his horse.

He hit the ground with a thud, issuing a cry of pain. When he fell onto his back, the lance was rammed further out his chest. Balin sat rigid, body twisted. His eyes were wide as he stared at the sight. He became aware of the sound of heavy breathing. It didn’t belong to the fallen knight, and it didn’t belong to him. His eyes oriented to the source of the sound, a point hanging in empty air.

There sounded a snort of triumph and a pounding of hooves galloping away. Tufts of dirt lifted from the ground, as though upset by a horse’s hooves. Balin saw branches knocked out of the way, although nothing could be seen. His chest tightened to solid, eyes staring but not seeing. 

Once evidence of the unseen predator passed, his stinging eyes dropped to the fallen knight. He threw his leg over, secured his horse and ran.

The man’s back was angled up, lance struck right through his torso. When Balin came near, the knight’s eyes glanced to his, then slid away with a curl of his lip. Balin’s chest seized, mouth issuing a breathy sob, then he reached to grasp the lance.

“I’m going to pull it out,” he said.

“Yes,” the knight groaned. 

“It’s going to hurt,” Balin said.

“I know.”

He grasped it in both hands and yanked it out. There was a horrid wet sound, accompanied by the knight’s anguished gasp. The knight fell onto his back. 

Balin threw the rod down and knelt beside him. The knight’s face held a weary, knowing expression. He turned his eyes to Balin.

“I am killed under your protection.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Just as I told you it would be.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry,” said the knight. His gaze drifted upward, toward the fluttering leaves. “The loss is mine, and the shame is yours.”

“It will be—” Balin’s throat clamped shut and drops seeped from his shut eyes. “It is my shame.”

“Now you must take on my quest and follow it until it is completed, or that you die.”

“I will,” Balin said. “I vow to complete your quest or die in the attempt.”

The knight’s lips lifted, revealing bloody teeth. “Do you know what my quest is?”

Balin’s face dropped. He held perfectly still.

The knight chuckled, then laughed with a little choke. “Well, I do know that,” his hand grabbed Balin’s wrist, “you’re going to love it.” 

He laughed again. His chest convulsed and a spurt of blood burst from his mouth, staining his cheeks red. His head went limp and fell back. All tension melted from his chest.

The man’s weight increased on Balin’s arms. He let the knight to the ground, where he lay without moving. Balin stepped back, then stood, gaping down. The wind seemed to grow quiet. His breathing came shallow. When he pictured King Arthur looking at him, he jerked to lift his head, but stopped himself. He inhaled a long breath through his nose. His eyes closed, brow showing lines as it grew tight and heavy. His lip started to tremble and his eyelid to twitch.

He knew King Arthur was looking in his direction. Breathing in and blowing out, he stood straighter. A calm fell over him. His face went impassive. He turned. The king was indeed sitting up in bed, gazing toward him. Balin pulled a smile onto his face then dropped it, lowering his head. He could feel his chest begin to tremble. 

He put his hands at his sides and began walking back to the king’s bed. He kept his eyes lowered, but raised them again when he grew near. 

Arthur’s face was lifted to his in expectation as Balin stood beside the bed. The king’s expression showed a kindness that made Balin press his lips hard, forcing him to drop his eyes.

“What happened just now?” asked the king. “I saw he was struck, but could not see the one who struck him.”

Balin opened his mouth to reply, but his lips trembled and for a moment he was overcome. He clasped his throat to keep from sobbing and fell on his knees beside the bed. He put his hands on the cover, keeping his head down, face angled away. His shoulders rose and fell as he breathed.

Arthur’s eyebrows arched. He put a gentle hand on the knight’s shoulder. “Balin. Is it as bad as that?”

Balin lifted his face, but did not look at the king. He saw that his hands were bloody and pulled them away from the king’s covering. They left a crimson stain. Balin’s face distorted as he gaped at the mark, eyes brimming over.

“That’s all right,” Arthur said. “Don’t worry about that.”

A wet breath escaped Balin’s teeth at the king’s kindness. His shoulders leapt and settled in time with his gulping breaths. At last he said, “I’m afraid it may be longer before I can come back to your court.” He was going to say more, but his lips clamped shut.

Arthur squeezed his shoulder. “Not at all. You did what you could here. I saw myself.” Arthur gestured to where the knight lay. “None of that was your fault.”

A small whimper escaped Balin’s huddled form as he knelt before the king. “It’s not that,” he said. “My lord, in order to persuade this knight to come back to you, I promised him my protection. I promised,” he stretched a hand toward the path where the knight’s body lay, “that I would complete his quest if,” he choked and coughed lightly, “anything should happen to him.”

“Oh,” Arthur said. His brow grew wrinkled as he gazed at Balin’s bowed head. He opened his mouth, held, then closed it again, head shaking as his eyes lifted to the branches of wavering leaves. He sighed, reaching forward to again place his hand on the knight’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Balin.”

Balin’s face remained hidden. He nodded, but kept his eyes lowered. A hand came up to swipe under his nose. He snorted, twitched his nose, then nodded again.

The king sat back, easing his hand. “I agree that you are beholden to keep your promise,” he said. “But after that, when you have honored your word and completed this knight’s quest, then come back, you and Balan, and enjoy a place even more honored than before.”

Balin stood. His eyes were lined with red, but his face was dry. “Thank you, sire. I would like that.”

“It will be just so,” the king said, “when you return.”

.