Bradbury Tales

Sir Geraint

Sir Geraint

There was once a knight who, in the course of his latest quest, found himself benighted in the Forest of Lucomia. A storm was threatening and the knight lost his horse when it panicked and ran from his camp, frightened by a flash of lightning. Undeterred, the knight continued on foot but, as the forest grew more tangled and the storm more tempestuous, he lost his way and wandered into the darkest depths of the forest.

All hope seemed lost as he stumbled upon his way but then, at last, he glimpsed far off a light flickering among the trees. He made his way toward it and found that it was a lone house, small amd unimposing, but perhaps sufficient to shelter him for the night.

He knocked at the door.

At first there was no answer but the knight persisted and knocked again. Eventually, there came the sounds of locks being undone within and the door opened. An old woodsman peered out at the man standing on his doorstep.

“And who be you?” he asked.

“I am Sir Geraint,” said the knight. “I have lost my horse and my way due to the storm and the darkness of the night and I wonder, my good fellow, if you might be able to put me up until the morrow.”

The old man rubbed his hands together, clearly not enjoying the cold blast of the storm while standing at his open door. “Oh that be impossible, sire, for I live alone and there be no room for anything but myself in this humble abode.”

“Oh, come, come now, fellow. Surely there is a couch or carpet on which I can lie and so be ready to journey on in the morning?”

“Not a thing, my lord,” answered the old man. “It’s really just a tiny house and I have no comforts of any sort.”

Well, this went on for some time, the knight begging and pleading for shelter and the old man denying his ability to serve the knight at all. Eventually, the knight gave up and switched his tack.

“Well, what about a horse?” he demanded. “Surely you have a horse or something I could ride to get to the next town?”

“Oh no, sire,” returned the man. “I be a humble woodsman and no horse have I.”

This set the knight to thinking. “A donkey then. Surely you have a donkey.”

“Nope,” came the reply.

“There must be something,” protested the knight. Have you nothing at all that I can ride?”

“Not me,” said the old man.

“Not even a dog? A big one, maybe?”

The old man hesitated. “Well…”

“Yes, yes, what is it?” The knight snatched at this faint ray of hope.

“Well, there is… But no, I couldn’t do that.” The old man turned away as though the conversation was ended.

But the knight was not going to let go now until he knew what had occurred to the man. “Ah but there is something, isn’t there? What is it, man? Out with it, no matter how awful.”

The old man wavered. “It’s true, I do have a dog,” he began.

“A big one?” suggested the knight.

“Oh yes, sire. A huge one indeed.”

Now the knight leapt at his chance. “Well, that’s it then. I’ll ride the dog to the next town!”

“Oh no, sire. You couldn’t do that. Not on this dog. He’s terrible and all. I’m sorry I even thought of it.”

“Nonsense, man. I’m a knight and I’ll ride the thing if it’s big enough. Why, I’ve killed dragons and griffons, I’m not afraid of a mere dog.”

The old man shook his head. “No, no, sire, I couldn’t do that. You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“Don’t be silly, man,” said the knight. “Just lead me to it and I’ll ride the beast.”

Again the old man shook his head and began to close the door. “No, my lord, I can’t do it. There’s just no way I would send a knight out on a dog like this…”


Word count: 676
For The Bradbury, Week 8 2025