father, it's the boy king.
no.
it didn't hurt too much, did it?
--i'm pretty good at stitchery. i've sewn my father's wounds more than once.
careful! you'll have to stay still for a few days or you'll tear them open.
--and damsels in besieged castles are waiting to be rescued?
well, then, i shall tell you which knights have maiden daughters, so you can avoid their castles.
no, i think it's better if you just stay here to heal. at least a week.
quiet, or i'll sew up your mouth too.
would you rescue me from a fiery dragon, sir?
it's just a furry little rabbit that took the bait and sprung the trap.
you'll find him served up to you tonight, cooked in a most excellent sauce.
they are only for you, for in them i mixed things that heal, but not too quickly; and things that make limbs sleepy, preventing escape, but keep one's mind sharp.
it is an ancient mixture, containing only soft, unborn grains, and flavored with roses. the rest is secret.
he must stay for the feasting days of our wedding, and tell his deeds himself.
don't start a war on my wedding day!
look lancelot. the maids and ladies whisper about you. they all dream of winning you, young and old, fair and ugly.
but surely that's no secret to you, dear lancelot. you're the bravest and strongest knight they've ever seen, and beauty has kissed your brow.
the well-kept secret is whether any of them has won your heart.
why?
and there is no maiden in the whole world who inspires you?
who?!
me?
to me? but why?
what is it you would have your words mean, sir gahalt?
no. i meant not to be angry with you, sir gahalt. in the idleness that comes with peace gossip has bread its own evil. you merely repeat it. please, sir, have one of those apples that lancelot loves, and in that gesture partake of its goodness.
take one, sir gahalt.
i didn't.  i am innocent.
not you, my husband?
i thank you, but you are not yet a knight.
why can't you be my champion?
and you cannot love me.
and if he cannot be found, no other knight will champion me, though you beseeched each and every one of them. why be king if there is no one you can call loyal subject but an eager boy?
flesh on flesh. i will heal you.
love demands it.
--nothing!
he has given up.
we are to blame.
i loved you much, as king, and sometimes as husband, but one cannot gaze too long at the sun in the sky.
i have kept it.