Even above the echoing sound of hooves, as the grasses themselves yielded to the stallion of Galahad in the knowledge that he was of the table of Arthur, was audible the sound of the harp. He reined in his steed, his ears attuning to the music which seemed to bespeak terrible isolation and loss.
He reached into a pouch at his side, retrieving a handful of walnuts whose shells he cracked with his hands, chewing on the nut meat for long minutes while he listened. Finally he leaned forward and stroked the horse's neck. "Would this be a worthy diversion for a knight?" he asked it, "a mission of mercy, or even a momentary entertainment? Let us find out." The horse nodded, and whinnied his agreement, and Galahad tugged on the reins to direct his mount to follow the sounds which even from a distance were so evocative.
Galahad had not traversed every area of Arthur's vast kingdom, and he found himself in environs new to him. As he rounded a hill, he found himself in view of a castle which stabbed towards the sky, seemingly carved out of red stone. He paused there, ensuring that the music was welling up from the castle itself, when he was distracted by a voice. "Ser Knight! Ser Knight!"
He turned, surprised, and from the forest at the side of the road leapt a young boy, barely in his teens, his cheeks stained by tears, his hair and apparel covered in brush and dust from the road. "What ails you, young man?" said Galahad, gently.
"My lady … the Lady Lionês, the Lady of the Harp, has been held captive in the Castle Perilous." The boy pointed towards the red stone structure. "I was trying to run to get help, but when I heard your horse I wasn't sure it was one of her captor's men … "
Galahad smiled, "No fear of that. I have been traveling in search of the undry cauldron, which sang once in Murias, at the mighty Dagda's table, but Galahad the Pure has ever found time to rescue a lady in peril … 'tis my duty as a knight of the Round Table to try and sample as much peril as I can."
He saw the young boy's lips mouth the words 'Ser Galahad' to himself with an awed, almost hungry expression; it was clear his reputation had preceded him. "My name is Y … Ystin, Ser." He knelt on one knee. "I would be honoured to fight by your side for my lady's honour."
Galahad's smile broaden into laughter. "Far be it for me to stand in the way of another warrior's search for honour." He reached down and extended a hand to Ystin, hoisting the lad up easily into the saddle behind him.
Ystin pointed down the path, and Galahad set his stallion into a gallop. He reached into the pouch and grabbed another handful of walnuts, cracking them again with his fists and passing the nuts back to the boy, who munched on them ravenously.
Galahad slowed his mount once more as they approached the castle. He narrowed his eyes, assessing the walls and preparing to announce his presence, when the sunlight was blocked by a shadow from overhead. The pair looked up, and a man clad in blood-red armor descended from the skies. His helm appeared in the form of a great rodent, and with his leathery wings and pointed tail he could have been an immense bat. "I am Ser Ither Perymones of the Red Lands," he said. "What errant knight seeks to impinge upon my realm?"
Dismounting, the other bowed his head in greeting. "I am Ser Galahad of the Round Table. I have come in search of the Lady of the Harp, whose music has summoned me from afar with its song of mourning."
"The Lady Lionês' beauty has entrapped me," said the Perymones, "and my heart allowed me no choice but to entrap her as well, so that her beauty may be appreciated only by me."
Galahad turned to Ystin, breaking another handful of nuts to feed him. "My steed shall watch over you if need be, this shall no longer be your battle." He turned to Perymones, and drew his sword. "The Lady's beauty wilts if denied her natural home," he said. "It is best you return her now."
Ser Perymones slipped his sword out of scabbard; as he did so he drew forth a parchment scrawled with runes, and began to chant words which may have been common to the tongues of man in the days before Therna Na Oge sank under the ocean. The words seemed to glister in the air around him like golden charms, and then to become infused within his body as blood will soak into leather.
"She is my heart, and not so easily given away," he said, and his sword flickered towards Galahad like a whip. Galahad's own sword was as swift if not swifter, and sparks flew off from the impact.
As Galahad fought on, he discovered to his dismay that as the hours passed 'til noon, his opponent's strength only seemed to increase as his own waned with exertion. He was among the mightiest of the knights of the Round Table but eventually even he began to realise he was outmatched. It was with a groan of despair that he fell backwards, his sword still raised in a futile defensive gesture.
"Now," Ser Perymones began, only to find his words interrupted by a gesture of desperation from the forgotten boy off on the sidelines. Ystin had slipped off his shoe and flung it at his Lady's captor, the leather striking him in his unprotected face. That brief second of distraction was all Galahad needed, and his sword slipped through the man's armour and pierced his heart.
"Galahad! Galahad the Giant Killer!" Ystin approached the man in awe. "My Lady is saved!"
"I am no more a giant-killer than you, lad." Galahad cleaned his blade. "I am in your debt."
"Oh great Ser," the boy said, kneeling down, "I would want nothing more than to accompany you to gleaming Camelot, to squire for you and become a knight myself."
"You have the courage," Galahad said. "I shall speak to the Lady Lionês, and see what may be possible."
Ystin took Galahad's hand in his own two hands, gratitude and awe melding into a profoundest, deepest love. He lowered his head and pressed his lips to the back of the hand in a kiss.