Gawain and Ragnell: The Pendragon Chronicles

By Ruth Nestvold

Gawain was not only Arthur's champion, he was the champion of the ladies as well. He loved many women, but none too much -- until one of his lovers told him she intended to marry another man.

Now, a year later, he is running away from his disappointment, traveling north to fight against a mysterious warrior who has taken the hill-fort of the lady Ragnell.

But there is a mystery to Ragnell too, the beauty with the ravaged face. And Gawain learns he must solve both mysteries, that of the warrior and that of the lady ... 

Gawain and Ragnell is a short story of approximately 17,000 words.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Red Dragon Books
• Release date: Sep 29, 2013
• ISBN: 9781497727229

Ruth Nestvold

A former assistant professor of English in the picturesque town of Freiburg on the edge of the Black Forest, Ruth Nestvold has given up theory for imagination. The university career has been replaced by a small software localization business, and the Black Forest by the parrots of Bad Cannstatt, where she lives with her fantasy, her family, her books and no cats in a house with a turret. Her short fiction has appeared in numerous markets, including Asimov's, F&SF, Baen's Universe, Strange Horizons, Scifiction, and Gardner Dozois's Year's Best Science Fiction. Her fiction has been nominated for the Nebula, Tiptree, and Sturgeon Awards. In 2007, the Italian translation of her novella "Looking Through Lace" won the "Premio Italia" award for best international work. Her novel Flamme und Harfe appeared in translation with the German imprint of Random House, Penhaligon, in 2009 and has since been translated into Dutch and Italian.

Book preview

Gawain and Ragnell

Gawain was not only Arthur's champion, he was the champion of the ladies as well. He loved many women, but none too much -- until one of his lovers told him she intended to marry another man.

Now, a year later, he is running away from his disappointment, traveling north to fight against a mysterious warrior who has taken the hill-fort of the lady Ragnell.

But there is a mystery to Ragnell too, the beauty with the ravaged face. And Gawain learns he must solve both mysteries, that of the warrior and that of the lady ...

GAWAIN AND RAGNELL

A Short Story From the Pendragon Chronicles

by

Ruth Nestvold

Copyright 2013 by Ruth Nestvold

Cover by Britta Mack and Ruth Nestvold

Map by Britta Mack

First Electronic Edition 2013

Red Dragon Books

* * * *

Map of Fifth Century Britain and Ireland

The Story of Gawain and Ragnell

1

And as he rode over a moor,

He saw a lady where she sat

Betwixt an oak and a greene hollen;

She was cladd in red scarlett.

Then there as shold have stood her mouth,

Then there was set her eye;

The other was in her forhead fast,

The way that she might see.

Her nose was crooked and turned outward,

Her mouth stood foule a-wry;

A worse formed lady than she was,

Never man saw with his eye.

Child's Ballads, The Marriage of Sir Gawain

Gawain's mount made slow progress on the muddy track north. The old Roman road had washed out along this stretch, unfortunately. Here on the edge of civilization, only few still tried to uphold the ideals of romanitas — not to mention maintain the paved roads. Each fall of hoof sucked up muck and sludgy water, making it impossible for their party to travel as fast as the situation merited.

It was a cold, gray land this time of year, the villas few and far between, the struggling villages they passed obviously suffering from repeated bad harvests. Even city marketplaces had little to offer, and the luxury of inns was nearly non-existent. Gawain was glad they had several well-laden pack animals in their train.

If only he'd had the sense to resist this adventure. But no, he had jumped at the opportunity, had wanted to play the hero after he heard the news the unexpected messenger brought to Caer Leon. It was two weeks after All Hallows according to the Christian calendar (or Samhain according to the old ways), when Father Pabius from Rheged had sought out Arthur, asking for help. The priest had been contacted by Ragnell, a cousin of Arthur's first wife, requesting he come to perform the marriage ceremony for Ragnell and her betrothed.

But there was something about both the message and the messenger that didn't fit, Pabius had said, handing a writing tablet of thinly sliced wood to Arthur. For one, he was no servant of Ragnell's, with his manners and his accent. For another, the message asked me to bring her cousin Gwenhwyfar for the wedding, if she could find the time to come. But Ragnell knows perfectly well that Gwenhwyfar is dead. I am almost sure Ragnell is trying to send a message for help.

Gawain wondered if anyone else saw Arthur's jaw tighten at the mention of his first wife. And he couldn't help wondering if he himself would still be reacting to Yseult's name in the same way twenty years from now, if by the grace of the gods he lived so long.

Arthur opened the tablet and scanned the lines, frowning. Done, he looked up. You were right to come to me, Pabius. Ragnell does not even name her betrothed in this letter. Something has happened. We will need a troop of warriors to go north.

May I suggest we proceed carefully? the priest said. Ragnell might be in danger. A priest and his escort will be expected, but not a troop of fighting men. I can return north with some of your warriors, as long as they are willing to masquerade as priests. I am a king's son and a trained warrior myself; that may be part of the reason Ragnell sent to me.

Good point, Arthur said, nodding. I will send an escort with you. Once we know the situation — and have someone inside the fort — a larger band of warriors will follow.

Heartsore and in need of distraction, Gawain stepped forward. I would be happy to lead such a party, Arthur. Gwenhwyfar was my aunt, after all, and I have ties to the north.

If Arthur suspected the true reason he had volunteered, he didn't show it. The true reason was Yseult, Gawain's former lover, who had recently married his friend Cador. It seemed over one hundred miles distance between them was not enough for Gawain's peace of mind — he had to increase it by going half the length of Britain.

And so now Gawain was on his muddy way north with a weary priest and a score of warriors — in winter, no less, when the cold rain could turn to snow any day. It was surprising how much mud and muck and bone-shattering cold was involved in adventure.

Gawain