Sir David groaned. "Not another obstacle! I don't like the look of these bloody doors." Sir Patrick looked sympathetic but said nothing. He too had had his fill of the tribulations that had been placed in their way during the past few days.

Silently he wondered if it was really worth it all, but thinking of the fair Lady Gwynneth's deep blue eyes and golden hair, he knew he couldn't abandon their quest to rescue her.

Sir David stepped morosely up to the identical doors with their twin guardians, who looked as if they had started out to be human, but had got stuck in some intermediate stage, and looked like a pair of two legged armadillos with elephant connections.

"Hold fast, Sir David," Sir Patrick cautioned, grasping his arm to hold him back. "Before we ask the question, we would be wise to rest a while. We cannot help Lady Gwynneth by going into the final battle exhausted."

Sir David nodded his agreement, and the two knights retreated to a soft looking patch of sweet grass and stretched themselves out. Perhaps they were very tired, or perhaps the glade had magical soothing qualities, but soon both men, despite their anxiety, were fast asleep, and the cares of the past days fell from them like heavy dark cloaks.

Three days before, they had been relatively carefree rivals for the affections of the beautiful Lady Gwynneth. As long time friends, they tolerated each other's presence, each convinced that he would be the chosen one, and she enjoyed the dalliance far too much to be in any hurry to choose.

They had, however, not taken Sir Basil the Black into account, and he had taken advantage of a shocking lack of security for which heads were poised to roll, to abduct the lovely maiden, and imprison her in the North Tower of his Black Castle. He then threw out the challenge to Sir David and Sir Patrick: if they could rescue her within three days, then he would relinquish all claims to her. However, if they failed, then his wife had a new handmaiden.

Twirling his villainous moustache, he then went off to spend a couple of days with his wife at the annual joust, secure in the knowledge that neither knight was bright enough to survive the hazards along the road to his castle. And then there were those doors...

The two rivals lost no time in teaming up and girding themselves for battle. They saddled up their fine white horses, buckled on their trusty swords, and packed their lunch boxes. About to ride off in hot pursuit of the love of their lives, they suddenly realised that they had no idea how to find Sir Basil's castle, and wasted half a day waiting for Maradoc Bates, the local wizard, to conjure up a yet to be invented road map.

"OK," said Sir David, once he found the correct page. "It's through the Portals of Peril, turn left at Skull canyon, then we hang a right immediately after Dragon's Pee Creek, and it's twenty leagues straight on."

"Check the map symbols," urged Sir Patrick, "then we'll know what to expect."

"The Portals of Peril; let's see. We have to go through them without once taking our thoughts away from the object of our quest, otherwise the portals will clash together, with us in between. Well, I for one cannot take my thoughts from my fiancée, so there should be no trouble there.

"Skull Canyon is prone to avalanches, so if we make the slightest sound, we'll be buried under tons of skulls. We must not touch the waters of Dragon's Pee Creek, or we shall end up being haunted by the ghost of a huge dragon for the rest of our days. Piece of cake!"

"No thanks, I've just had lunch. Oh, I see what you mean. Yes, we shouldn't have too much trouble. I hope my fiancée isn't missing me too much."

Bickering about just which of them was engaged to the beautiful Lady Gwynneth, they happened upon the Portals of Peril just before sundown.

"I vote we go through now rather than wait until morning," said Sir Patrick. "Don't forget, not a thought must enter your head apart from the vision of Lady Gwynneth, or we'll both be dead."

"Very well, but the next decision is mine," replied Sir David, clearly not wanting Sir Patrick to claim too much credit for the rescue.

Slowly, they edged forward between great faces of rock, each bearing the face of Lady Gwynneth in their minds. "Gwynneth, Gwynneth," murmured Sir Patrick from time to time, as the huge walls of stone fell slowly behind them. It was a pity they were so intent upon their communal fiancée, otherwise they would no doubt have been fascinated by the red blotches at intervals along those walls, blotches that were all approximately the size and height of a horse and rider.

Sir Patrick's mouth began to feel as dry and dusty as a high church sermon, and as they finally pulled clear of the Portals, he gasped, "Thank Heaven for that, I must have water!" However, he gasped too soon, and the Portals of Peril instantly clanged together, nipping the tails off their fine white horses, which hadn't quite emerged from the danger zone. "Oops!"

Skull Canyon proved an easy obstacle to overcome on the following morning, as Sir David wrapped pieces of his cloak around the horses' hooves, muffling their sound. He was still stewing about the loss of his horse's fine tail, and Sir Patrick was still ashamed of his outburst, so there was no chance that idle chatter might start an avalanche of skulls. And so obstacle number two proved to be no obstacle at all, and if Sir Basil had dared to ask his wife to consult her crystal ball, he would have become alarmed at the ease with which the two knights were proceeding.

Dragon's Pee Creek posed a little more of a challenge, as the already obsolete road map book didn't show the presence of a bridge within ten miles of their position. As the road led them to a shallow ford, they argued that they could ride across on their horses, and that they wouldn't have to dip their toes in the water, letting their horses do the dirty work for them.

"But I never leave my horse alone!" wailed Sir David, "So I'd be haunted along with him. And who's going to be daft enough to buy a haunted horse?"

Common sense prevailed, and they eventually came across a peasant who described the location of Dragon's Pee Bridge, a sturdy edifice one mile downstream, over which they crossed quite safely.

The following afternoon, they came into sight of Sir Basil's Black Castle, a misnomer if they had ever heard one, as it was a dirty grey pile of stone, with the rust stains from bore water all round the base. Or was it an overflow from Dragon's Pee Creek, wondered Sir David.

Sir Basil was a somewhat impoverished knight, so there was no moat, no drawbridge, no portcullis, no sentry, not even a butler to request their calling cards. The outside of the unkempt castle boasted crumbling battlements, two tall towers with a small window near the top of each, and in lieu of a front door, two separate doors side by side at the front of the castle.

"She'll be right at the top of the tower," said Sir David, knowledgeably. "Kidnappers always stow their stolen maidens in the highest parts of their castles."

"But which is the North Tower?" asked Sir Patrick.

"The one with the plaque on it saying North Tower,"
replied Sir David, who was very good at noticing details like that.

Turning their mounts over toward the said tower, the knights dismounted, and Sir Patrick called out, "Lady Gwynneth! Lady Gwynneth!"

His call was rewarded by the sight of a white clad arm waving from the small high window, and a faint voice crying, "I'm up here!"

"It is I, Sir Patrick, here to rescue you, my beloved,"

"And I, Sir David," added his rival. "Quick, my sweeting, throw down your beautiful hair so that I might climb up to you."

"I should cocoa! You should stop reading those stupid romances!" she called down to him. "That would hurt like hell. In any case, you men never notice anything. I had my hair cut short into a bob three weeks ago. I was wondering how long it would take you to notice. Blind as bats, the lot of you! No, you're just going to have to go round to the front doors and ask which one leads to me, and which one leads to certain death. Sir Basil had them installed specially, in case you survived the Portals of Peril, Skull Canyon, and Dragon's Pee Creek."

"Wait there, my dearest, and I will be with you very soon," promised Sir Patrick.

The more pragmatic Sir David delayed to ask Lady Gwynneth if she knew which door was which.

"No, I don't, but there are two guardians. One always tells the truth and the other always lies. You must ask them which is the right door, but you are allowed only one question. And boy, are they ugly!"

A little later, as our heroes awoke from their short siesta, they once more approached the twin doors. The guardians watched them from eyes that were black beneath beetling brows, and the one on the right thundered, "Ask your question!"

Sir Patrick stepped forward, and opened his mouth to speak, when Sir David screeched hysterically at him to shut up.

"What?"

"How do we know which one is telling the truth?"

"Well, we ask him if he is the one who lies, and if he says yes, then we ask the other guardian."

"But he could be lying."

"Well then, we ask the other one instead."

"We only have one question!"

"Ask them, if I go through this door will I be safe?"

"But one will lie, so he'll say it's the safe door, and we'll be entering into certain death."

"There's an ancient formula for asking the right question. Does it say anything in the book?" muttered Sir Patrick, and began frantically leafing through the pages.

"There is a formula, but I don't think you're going to like it." Sir David manoeuvred Sir Patrick around so the light fell better on the pages of their guide. Now that the door was immediately behind Sir Patrick, Sir David reached out a hand and turned the knob of the left-hand door.

Sir Patrick was too engrossed in the book to notice anything amiss until Sir David's boot caught him in the pit of his stomach. Sir David could have played for Manchester United on the strength of that perfect goal. Sir Patrick fell back through the doorway, book and all. There came a long scream of despair, which lasted a long, long time as it faded almost into silence before there was a horrible thud and a tinkle of armour hitting the ground far below.

"Well, that answers that!" crowed Sir David in triumph to the guardians, as he opened the right hand door. "Relax, you're safe My Lady! I'm on my way up!"

"But that's not how it happens!" protested guardian number one to his equally outraged counterpart. "He's supposed to ask the question. Come back, young man, you've got to ask us the question!"

"So sue me!" and Sir David's laughter echoed in the stairwell, as he raced up the stairs to claim his fiancée.

© Sandy Parkinson 2001. Word count: 1942.