A Perfect Gentle Knight (6 page)

To Corrie's delight the first hymn was “To Be a Pilgrim,” Sebastian's favourite. She grinned at him as they shared a hymn book and their voices rang out together: “No foe may still his might, though he with giants fight.” They were Sir Lancelot and Sir Gareth, attending chapel before a battle.

As Corrie put down her hymn book, she spotted a curly dark head under a red hat a few pews away: Meredith! She'd never seen her in church before.

A few minutes later all the children paraded out for Sunday school. Meredith avoided Corrie's eyes. She must have really been hurt yesterday.

Corrie sat around a table with the rest of the ten-and eleven-year-olds. She paid no attention to Mrs. Rose, the Sunday school teacher, who was reading them the story of Jonah and the whale. Instead she pondered how she could make amends with Meredith.

Finally she excused herself to go to the bathroom. With relief, she heard Meredith make the same request. Outside the door they gazed at each other awkwardly.

“I didn't know you went to this church,” mumbled Corrie.

“This is our first Sunday.”

“I'm really sorry about yesterday,” Corrie continued quickly. “Sebastian's like that sometimes, but I
wanted
you to play with us.”

“You did?” Meredith's face was hopeful but wary. “I'd
like
to be friends with you, Corrie, but this week you've been so unfriendly I decided you didn't.”

“I do!” Corrie cried. “It's just … it's just hard with my family, that's all.”

“I
like
your family! They're kind of strange, but they're
interesting
. Can you come over to my house tomorrow after school?”

“Sure!” They grinned at each other.

“Was that your
father
sitting with you?” Meredith asked.

Corrie nodded.

“He's so
old
!”

“I guess he
is
old for a father. He's—uh, he was—twenty years older than my mother.”

“You're It!” cried Meredith, tapping her on the shoulder. Corrie chased her all over the parish hall. They played tag until Sunday school was over, then they joined the line of children to meet their parents coming out of church. Mrs. Rose frowned at them, but there was nothing she could do. Sunday school teachers had no authority, not like the ones in real school.

T
HE REST OF SUNDAY
was as peaceful as usual. The family squished into a taxi and Fa took them downtown for lunch, to the hotel restaurant they went to every week. No one there seemed to mind the twins getting up and down, running into the lobby, and coming back to report on what they'd seen.

This was the only good meal they had all week. Corrie stuffed herself with roast beef and Yorkshire pudding and apple pie with thick cream. Fa and Sebastian were engaged in a lively conversation about the Holy Grail; Fa knew a lot about knights, almost as much as Sebastian.

Corrie wondered if he guessed he was King Arthur. He must have noticed their game. But maybe not; Fa was so immersed in his own secret world, he was barely aware of much outside it.

But at least on Sundays he stayed out of his study and tried to give all his attention to his children. After the taxi ride home, they changed their clothes and went for a long walk on the golf course. Then they all sat in the den with ginger ale for them and wine for Fa.

Corrie and Harry stretched out on the floor with the weekend funnies. Harry's favourites were “Terry and the Pirates” and “Mark Trail”; Corrie liked “Gasoline Alley” and “Prince Valiant.” Prince Valiant looked so much like Sebastian, with his long hair and handsome demeanour. And he was just as brave. Hamlet plopped down on top of the paper the way he always did when someone read on the floor.

Fa played cribbage with Roz, Orly curled up in his lap. “When did your hair get so curly, Rosalind?” Fa asked suddenly.

Roz looked irritated. “Oh, Fa, I got a perm three weeks ago! Don't you remember? I asked you if I could.”

Fa looked ashamed. “I do apologize, my dear. I forgot.” He studied her. “It makes you look much older. You're getting to be quite a young lady!” He looked surprised that any of them were growing at all.

Fa admired Harry's model airplane and tried unsuccessfully to teach Juliet how to tie her shoelaces, laughing with the rest of them when Juliet simply knotted the two loops. “It's my
invention
,” she boasted. “Fa, could Orly and me get some more turtles?”

“Orly and
I
,” said Fa. “I thought you already had turtles.”

“They died,” said Juliet.

“They
always
die,” said Roz. “I don't think you should buy any more.”

Juliet looked so woeful that Fa said they could ask for turtles for Christmas.

“Fa,” said Harry solemnly, “a kid in my class says that if you cut the skin between your thumb and first finger you'll die. That couldn't be true, right?”

Fa smiled. “We thought that when
I
was young! No, it's not true. It's just a superstition.”

“What's a stition?” asked Orly.

“A superstition is something that is untrue but that many people believe is true,” said Fa. “Like thinking that black cats are bad luck.”

“They
are
bad luck!” said Orly. “I'm glad Hamlet is grey and not black.”

Fa kissed the top of Orly's head. “You can think they are if you like.”

Corrie watched Orly enviously; it didn't seem so long ago that she'd had that place on Fa's lap. She had to be content with leaning against his legs while she waited for a break in the chatter. Then she told Fa about reading
The Eagle of the Ninth
and asked him to tell her something about the Roman Empire. She had his whole attention for twenty minutes, and she learned a lot. Fa knew
everything
! He was better than an encyclopedia.

Then Fa asked them his usual weekly question: “Is everything all right, my dears? Are you managing with Mrs. Smith?”

“Mrs. Oliphant!” cried Juliet. “But we call her the Elephant!”

“Ah, yes, of course … Mrs. Oliphant. I hope you don't call her that to her face, Juliet. You must never hurt people's feelings, you know. Is she doing a good job? Is she kind?”

Sebastian shot the others a warning glance. “Mrs. Oliphant is very nice to us. Everything's fine, Fa.”

“I hope so,” said Fa. “I don't want to overburden you. I can afford to hire Mrs. Elephant to stay longer in the evenings if you like.” Juliet shrieked at his mistake, but Corrie knew that he'd said it on purpose.

“We really don't need her,” Sebastian said. “We're fine in the evenings—right, Roz?” Roz looked as if she wanted to contradict him, but she didn't dare do anything but nod in agreement.

Corrie sighed. How could Fa not notice the dirty and untidy house and the awful meals? But he never did.

It was Sebastian's turn to cook Sunday supper. He made what he always did—hot dogs and carrot sticks. Harry sulked when Orly beat him in a hot-dog-eating contest: he ate three and a half to Orly's four.

After the meal they went back into the den and Fa read to them. He had a deep, rich voice, with a slight overlay of an English accent; he'd come to Canada from Devon when he was sixteen. Every Sunday in Corrie's life she had listened to him. What wonderful stories they had heard in this room! Lamb's
Tales from Shakespeare
, Grimms'
Household Tales
,
The Jungle Books
…

Tonight Fa was reading
A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court
. Because there were knights in it, they all listened especially avidly. Corrie had managed to squeeze in beside Fa.

She stopped listening as a memory arose in her mind. She and Roz were sitting on each side of Aunt Madge on the same chesterfield, pushing into her and wailing like babies.

“You cry too, Sebastian,” Aunt Madge had said, gazing with concern at eleven-year-old Sebastian standing by the fireplace. “Do try to, dear. It will help you feel better.”

Sebastian had given Aunt Madge a look of utter scorn. “Don't tell me what to do! You're not my mother!”

Corrie had climbed onto Aunt Madge's lap and cried even harder.

The memory vanished when Orly clapped his hands to his mouth and dashed out of the room. Roz ran after him. When she came back a few minutes later with a pale-looking Orly, Harry said, “I won! Now I have more hot dogs inside me than you have!”

“I still ate more!”

“Now, boys,” said Fa weakly. He looked at Sebastian. “Isn't it time for bed?”

4

A Quarrel

C
orrie and Meredith sat in Meredith's bedroom, a plate of peanut butter cookies between them. Corrie leaned against two of the many stuffed dogs that crowded the bed.

“Tell me about your
game
,” urged Meredith.

Corrie flushed. “Well,” she began slowly, “we're all knights of the Round Table. Sebastian is Sir Lancelot, the bravest knight—he's our leader. We pretend Fa is King Arthur, who's always away on a quest. And sometimes he's Merlin, because he knows so much. Roz is Sir Gawain, and now I'm Sir Gareth. That's what we were doing on the golf course—I had just been dubbed. Harry's the squire for all the knights, and Juliet and Orly are our pages.”

“Cool!” said Meredith. She didn't seem to think any of this was too weird. “I know all about knights—I got a book about them for Christmas last year. But why are you all
men
?” she said. “Why isn't anyone Guinevere or Elaine?”

Corrie shrugged. “I don't know. I guess because knights have more adventures than ladies. Sometimes Guinevere is around, but she's imaginary. Lots of people have to be made up because there aren't enough of us.”

“How long have you been playing this?”

“For a couple of years,” said Corrie. “I was a page first, then Sebastian's squire. I groomed his horse and rode beside him in battle. Just pretending, of course,” she added quickly.

Meredith nibbled on a cookie. “Sebastian really
seems
like a knight. I think I'm
afraid
of him!”

“You don't have to be. He was just surprised to see you on Saturday.”

“Is he bossy in
real
life too? When you're not playing your game, I mean.”

“He's not bossy! He's the nicest, kindest brother anyone could have!” Corrie tried to smile. “Maybe he
seems
bossy, but that's because he's our leader. He makes up our meal and bath schedules and gives out our allowances and tells us when to go to bed. We all help, of course. Roz buys our clothes, I make the lunches every day, and Harry and I take turns walking the twins home from school.”

“But why doesn't your
father
do any of that?”

Too many questions! But now that Meredith was her friend, Corrie had to try to answer patiently. “Fa's always busy,” she said. “He has very important work to do—he teaches classes and he's writing a book!”

“
That's
important,” said Meredith solemnly. Then she giggled. “Why does Sebastian have such long hair? It makes him look like a
girl
!”

“He has to have long hair because Sir Lancelot had long hair—we have a picture. And I don't think he looks at all like a girl,” Corrie added tightly.

“Sorry,” said Meredith. “I don't
really
think he does. I think he's handsome. I
wish
Sebastian would let me play your game with you. I could be your
squire
!”

“I wish he would too.”

“
I
know,” said Meredith eagerly. “Why don't
we
pretend I'm your squire? Or I could be another knight! I could be Sir Perceval or Sir Galahad! You and I could go on quests and things, just like your family does. We'd be
secret
knights!”

“I don't think we should,” Corrie said hastily. “I don't think Sebastian would like it.”

“But he'd never
know
!”

“Maybe not, but I just don't want to, okay?”

Meredith shrugged. “Okay. Let's have a dog show, then.”

Meredith had twenty-two stuffed animals. Corrie was especially intrigued by the tiny ones arranged in a circle on her chest of drawers: four bears, two raccoons, and a squirrel.

Nine dogs lived on the bed. It was fun to arrange them in groups for the judges, and to make awards out of cardboard for the best-groomed, best-behaved, and best-looking dog. They were deep into the game when Meredith's mother knocked at the door.

“What do you think, girls?” she asked. On her head was perched a blue hat. A purple one was in her hand. “I'm trying to choose,” she told them, coming in and sitting on the chair. “Which one do you like the best? The altar guild at St. George's is having a tea, and I want to make a good impression.”

Mrs. Cooper would always make a good impression, thought Corrie. She was round like her daughter, but her face was so open and friendly. She wore bright lipstick and colourful clothes.

“Try on the other one,” ordered Meredith, getting up and helping her mother adjust it. “No, I like the blue one best. What do
you
think, Corrie?”

“I like it best too,” said Corrie shyly.

“The blue one it is, then! I'll take the other one back.”

Meredith had crammed the purple hat on her head. She snatched the blue one from her mother's head and put it on Corrie's.

“Look how that hat brings out the colour in your eyes, Corrie,” said Mrs. Cooper. “You're going to be very pretty when you grow up.”

Corrie blushed. No one had ever said this to her before. She gazed at her face in the mirror, framed by the hat. Roz and Juliet were the pretty ones, not her. Her nose was too long and her face was so thin and freckled. She had never cared; knights didn't have to be pretty. But Mrs. Cooper was right. Beneath her long bangs her eyes looked bluer than usual.