A great forest stretched on three sides of the castle, beyond the square enclosed by the moat and the high wall. This forest was open, however, with grassy glades, and you could see far into the green, shadowy expanse. On the fourth side stretched a rolling meadow, through which a stream meandered, while far away a lake lay gleaming. But what was strange was not forest or lake or meadow, but the fact that, wherever the girls looked, they saw two knights in furious combat.
In one of the glades a large knight in black armour was hacking frantically at a smaller knight, who wore a scarlet sleeveless sort of a jacket over his armour. The smaller knight didn’t seem to mind the blows showered upon him, but whacked back in good measure, rising in his stirrups and whirling his sword with both hands. The horses stamped and circled, kicking up the dust.
These two were the nearest, but in all the glades and scattered about the meadows were other combatants, and always a knight in scarlet fought a knight in black.
“Yonder are my knights, the noble lords in scarlet,” Guinevere informed them. “Would Merlin were here to help us.”
“Here is Merlin, Princess.”
Rose and Ruth turned quickly toward the new voice. There stood a fine looking old man with a long sweeping grey beard, and singularly bright and piercing eyes that shone under heavy eyebrows. He was wrapped in a long black cloak embroidered in many colours with strange figures, and on his head was a close-fitting cap of black velvet.
“Oh, Merlin,” cried Guinevere, “what does this mean, this calling forth of all my knights to do battle with these black warriors? And see them fighting in a circle, nor can I mark that one among them all hath the advantage.”
Merlin shook his head slowly.
“It has taken all the powers of my magic, lady, to prevent thy knights from being overborne. There is a wicked and fierce queen, called by the name of Carla of the Quaking Pool, who hath laid a spell upon this castle and all those who would fight for thee. And unless some one come soon to our succour, I do fear ...” and again he shook his grey head.
“What, Merlin, thou afeard?” asked a voice, and Rose and Ruth were rejoiced to recognise the Fairy Honeysqueak. “’Tis not like thee. Who is this wicked queen that she should so prevail upon thee?”