Pendragon's Heir Read Online Free PDF Page B

wearing the armour, the knighthood is yours.”
    Perceval did not hear the murmur of protest that rose in the hall; he hissed in a breath through teeth clenched on the foretaste of victory. He had no words for thanks, but he bowed his head low to the mane of his pony. Before he turned, he spoke to the knight called Kay. “I also swear—when I return, you will pay for that blow.” He set heels to Llech’s sides and went out the gate and down the hill at a reckless canter.
    Folk at the castle gate pointed north when he asked in a shout for directions, and Perceval and his pony went thundering up the road, the mount toiling gamely, the rider laughing and brandishing his darts.
    P ERCEVAL CAUGHT UP WITH THE THIEF of the goblet a league from Camelot on a slope running down into the forest. The knight was walking his horse, evidently not in dread of pursuit, and though he glanced behind when he first heard Llech’s hooves, he paid no more attention to the pony or its rider until Perceval came within a spear’s length and hallooed. “Turn around and face me, coward knight!”
    Ahead, the knight yanked his horse around and gripped his lance. “Do you think to fight me?” he asked, laughter in his voice. “Which swine-shed did they raid to find you?”
    “They keep wolves where I come from,” Perceval said. “Why should I fear a sneaking dog? Be on your guard!”
    The gilded knight gestured behind Perceval, where the road ran over the crest of the hill. “Run home, boy, and send one of those knights on the hill to fight me. I see the bars of Lancelot, and I did not dare this adventure to fight with such as you.”
    Perceval did not spare a glance over his shoulder, but he breathed slowly once to calm the fire in his belly. So if he died here today, the pale Queen had other avengers. And if he lived, his victory had witnesses. He took a dart, balancing it in his hand, choosing it with as much care as his next words. “Buckle to fight,” he said. “If I allow it, you may yet live to boast of the day you met Perceval of Wales.”
    Within his helm, the knight snorted in derision.
    “Besides, I go in need of arms, and I mean not to leave without yours.”
    “I should only dishonour my blade on you, boy.”
    “No fear of that,” said Perceval, and grinned. “You have seen to that already.”
    The knight spurred his horse forward suddenly and swiped at Perceval’s head with his spear-butt. Perceval ducked, and the blow fell on his left shoulder, momentarily numbing the arm. He forced a laugh.
    “I only ever allowed my mother to beat me,” he said, “and even she could hit harder than that!”
    His enemy drew back up the hill, set his spear in rest, and came thundering down toward Perceval. The spear passed through empty air, for Perceval slid aside and down and clung to his dozing pony with just one arm and leg thrown athwart the back.
    “Hah! You call yourself a knight!” he mocked, pulling himself upright. “First you go to spear an unarmed man, and then you run away down the hillside!”
    The knight kicked his horse around and drew his sword, galloping back up the hill. Perceval waited for his chance. The distance between him and the knight closed to only a few yards before he lifted and flicked his arm. The dart flew true, striking home in the slit of the knight’s visor.
    The dead man toppled backward and fell to the ground at Llech’s feet. With a snort, the pony awoke.
    Perceval slipped to the ground, kicked the sword away from the body, yanked out his dart, and knelt to listen at the visor slit for breath. There was not a sound. Opening the knight’s wallet, he found the Queen’s cup and set it carefully in the grass by the road. Then he began to tap at the joints of the armour, and managed to slide off one of the knight’s gauntlets. He glanced up the hill, wishing that the two knights on the crest would come and help him, but they had ridden after the dead man’s horse.
    Perceval unclasped the