Percival
Percival was gathered around the midday table with Gwaine, Sir Leon, Elyan and a number of other knights and men-at-arms. As usually, the latest news from the castle were discussed.
"One of the stable hands were sacked this morning," Elyan told the others. "Last night he was caught harassing one of the kitchen girls. I think the stable master was quite relieved to get rid of him. I heard he had wanted to sack him for a long time because he never did an honest day's work."
"Was it the basket maker's husband?" Sir Leon asked.
Elyan was not sure, but one of the other knights confirmed Sir Leon's guess.
"That was him. The stable master told me himself right after it happened."
At the mention of Drea's caretakers Percival pricked his ears. Suddenly he had a horrifying realization. The stable hand had been harassing a young girl. He lived in the same house as Drea. Drea always looked so troubled and frightful. It was only too plausible that … Why hadn't he done anything sooner? He'd known she was miserable.
Percival dropped the spoon into his stew. Getting up from the bench, he said to his friends: "Cover afternoon shift for me, will you?" Then he rushed out the door without waiting for an answer, grabbing his sword from the rack next to the door. With a wildly beating heart, he ran towards the lower town, where he found the basket maker's house with the workshop out front. The door was closed and apparently no-one was there. He tried the door-latch. It was not locked so he went inside. The workshop looked neat and tidy and there were stacks and stacks of very fine baskets on all the shelves. In the back was the door to the living chambers. He went and tried that too. It was locked. He was just about to knock, but a strange sort of premonition stopped him. Instead he put his ear against the door and listened. Distantly he heard noises of fighting. Furniture was bumped around, something shattered on the floor and then he heard Drea's muffled, sobbing voice.
Anger and fear for Drea surged through Percival and filled him with strength. He kicked in the door and found himself in a combined kitchen and living room. No one was there either. It was richly furnished for a basket maker's home, he quickly noticed. There were three more doors in that room, but now he was close enough to the noise to know which one the sound came from. There was no lock on it, it was even ajar, so Percival just pushed it hard so it opened fully. The room must be Drea's. It was small and dark and contained only the most necessary furnishings: a narrow bed, a small table with a rickety chair and a small chest of drawers.
A small but sharp-looking knife lay on the floor among shards of pottery. Drea was being pinned against the wall next to the bed by a balding, pot-bellied, unwashed man, who was tugging at her clothes. When the door banged open, he looked back over his shoulder. Percival recognized his face vaguely from the stables. The man froze in surprise when he saw the tall knight. Percival, in his rage, completely forgot about the official procedure and wording of arrest.
"Get away from her!" he simply growled.
The coward adulterer stepped back, shaking, hands raised in the air.
Feelings of both relief, surprise and shame were evident in Drea's flustered face.
Percival was very tempted to send his fist square into the man's jaw, but as he was not resisting arrest it would be against the knights' code and he managed to restrain himself. The knights' code was what he lived by, after all.
"Are you alright?" Percival asked Drea.
She nodded, her eyes large in shock.
"Wait here. I'll be right back."
Percival used a soaking wicker from the workshop to tie the felon's hands behind his back and led him outside where he handed him over to the nearest guard with orders for the dungeon. Then he hurried back to Drea, hoping ardently she had not run off in fear or shame. He had to know whether she had been harmed, either today or earlier on. He wished so hard she had not fallen a victim to the nightmares he envisioned in his mind.
When he entered the house again, he found that she had not moved a step but she looked afraid.
"Drea," he said. She stared into his eyes like she could not believe what had just happened. "Drea, he did not … harm you, did he?"
For a moment she did not react. " … No," she finally said.
"What about … I mean, has he done something like this to you before?"
"No. He tried once. But I got away because he was too drunk. From then on I always stayed out at night when my mistress wasn't home. But this time … I don't know. I was so surprised … If you hadn't come … "
She started crying. Percival was shocked too. If he had come just a few minutes later it might have had terrible consequences. Involuntarily he put his arms around her and comforted her by stroking her soft hair. For some moments she pressed her face into his chest, trying to control her tears. There were a million things he wanted to say, but now was not the time. He waited patiently for her to calm down.
"Percival," she whispered, tears still rolling down her cheeks. "Please take me away from here. I never want to go back."
When he heard her whisper his name it was as if the four years that had gone by, had lasted no longer than a few days. "You're not going back. I promise you. Let's go right now."
