The Red Knight's charger flies at me with the speed of an arrow, his hooves beating the earth with stone-crushing force. I leap to the right, narrowly escaping their deadly tread. As I rise again, my cheek is grazed by a slash of Macsen Wledig's sword. A cheer erupts from the crowd. Fool! Pay attention! I say to myself, gritting my teeth and wincing. I withdraw one of my javelins and hold the shaft between my teeth. A moment later, the Red Knight's spear is hurled at my head but lodges into the ground behind me. I've learned my lesson. That's it, Peredur. Keep sharp. I reach back for two more javelins - one for each hand.

As Melwas turns his steed around for another pass, I take advantage of his susceptibility. His vision is now limited by his helmet, and the gap on the side of his hauberk is now exposed. With a mighty hurl, the first javelin soars like a beam of sunlight and tears a bloody opening in the Red Knight's side. He cries with pain and falls from his horse. The watchers gasp with amazement at their sun-hero's mortality. I open my mouth, and the javelin falls into my empty hand.

Melwas's horse rides on, chased down and calmed by his attendant. I steal a glance over to the Red Knight's lady. Her eyes are fixed upon me, wide and expectant. Her lord struggles to stand. He still brandishes his sword high, and his round, dragon-crested shield is strapped to his other arm, held out before him. "I am Sovereignty," he hollers hoarsely. "I am Jove incarnate. I am Britain. End me and you end Britain."

Has the fabled Red Knight already admitted his defeat? He is no warrior. At least not anymore. He is nothing more than a symbol of power, an icon. Someone for others to follow... a false god."

Another well-aimed javelin pulls his helm off of his bleeding head. He cries out again and collapses onto his back.

I approach him slowly, withdrawing another javelin.

"I can do anything, Perceval," he says quietly, as I near him. "Spare me, and I will give you any kingdom in Britain. Hear me, Perceval, I will give you anything you want."

"There is only one who can do anything, Red Knight, and He did not possess this power in life." I pull off the Red Knight's gauntlets and hauberk.

Melwas does not appear to comprehend; he's far to preoccupied with bargaining for his own life. "I can do anything, Perceval! Ask for it and you shall have it!"

I thrust a javelin through his right hand, pinning it to the ground. "Feed the hungry!" I roar.

Another javelin pierces through his left hand. "Heal the sick!"

Another javelin enters his heart. "Die for my sins."

Britain's counterfeit savior gurgles a throatful of blood and, for the first and last time, he gazes with awe into the heavens above him.

For a long time there is not a single sound from the crowd. I kneel over the body of the Red Knight and weep, praying that he reached out to Y Crist before his final breath. All the while, the throng of watchers takes me in. I am nothing to look at by comparison to their champion. Perhaps "champion" is not the right word. Camelot, and much of Britain it would seem, has lived with fearful reverence toward the Red Knight.

I cross myself and stand. The crowd is obviously eager to see what I will do next. I want nothing more than to find Arianwen and kiss her in a most immodest way. But I must honor duty. Gawain and Arianwen both agreed that I should pay condolences to the Red Knight's bride, and I only just recall this, dazzled by the fire in my head.

"My lady," I begin, now standing before her.

"I am called Dindraine, my Red Knight," she interrupts, smiling at me with tears in her eyes.

"Dindraine," I repeat. Her name is familiar to me, but I can't -- What? "Red Knight?"

"Do not doubt it, Perceval. You are no longer a nameless fool. Claim the title, for it is now yours. Your country is in Glastenning, and your influence is vast. My father is Gornemant, who had once been seneschal of Dinas Tor, as his ancestors had been for many generations, since the Legions. Now, my father is Arthur's horsemaster here in Camelot. Will you meet him?"

"I will, my la-- Dindraine," I answer excitedly. "But I will not see him to make him my seneschal. I freely give Glastenning and all that was the Red Knight's to you and your father...though...I would make two great requests, if I may be so bold."

The tears in Dindraine's eyes spill over her cheeks and she laughs, overcome with gratitude. "I will grant you anything, Perceval."

"May I take the Red Knight's armor and the drinking horn from Arthur's hall?"

"The drinking horn and all that Melwas wears are now yours, Red Knight." The drinking horn Dindraine hands me right then. She must have known that's what I had come for.

By this time, Gawain, Arianwen, Luned, Geraint, Rhun, and Owein have all joined together in removing the Red Knight's attire and armor and apprehending Melwas's horse and attendant.

Murmurs from the crowd begin and grow louder. The morning's events are being told and retold between the watchers. As I approach, my friends beam, pay compliments, and run to meet and embrace me. Lady Luned accepts Arthur's drinking horn. "Please return this to the High King, with unwavering loyalty from the Perceval," I request, bowing before Camelot's noble hostess.

"You will show me how to wear his armor, won't you, Arianwen?" I say in confidence.

"Yes, indeed, for you must look your best when you meet Gornemant, the horsemaster. And from now on, when I'm dressed as your attendant, please call me Etlym."

"You intend to continue playing my attendant then?"

"Indeed I do, my dear rustic hero. As Etlym I have the freedom to travel about as I please, which suits me just fine. Your other Bwrdd Crwn friends will have their duties to Arthur and not be as free to refine you and teach you the lordly arts of hunting and falconry, horsemanship, smithing, poetry, politics, history, and arms. Then there is, of course, the tynged upon you that you cannot ask questions of any man. As I am a woman, you may ask me what you like. And if you are to understand what I teach, you will need to ask questions." Arianwen has obviously given this a good deal of thought.

After bidding farewell to Gawain and his companions, I mount the Red Knight's horse. Arianwen and Melwas's attendent mount the latter's horse. We will follow Dindraine to the red pavilion to prepare for a visit to Gornemant and my first lesson in horsemanship.

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Y Crist - The Christ
tynged - geas (taboo, doom, fate, destiny)