Sir Apropos of Nothing

by Peter David

  “Do them in?” He guffawed at that. “Of course not, and I think you already know that. The problem was that, even on routine missions, they would see my caution and try to pick up the slack. Youth believes itself immortal. There is a cure for such an attitude, but unfortunately it is a cure from which one never recovers. Nonetheless, it served my purposes, for nobles complained to the king about the high mortality rate of my squires. No noble wanted his son attached to me. And one can’t send a knight places without a squire. A knight with no retainers? Unthinkable.”

  “And then I showed up,” I muttered.

  “Yes, you did. My assorted ‘disasters,’ even on the most routine of missions, had dropped me to the lowest point on the list of knights who were likely to be sent out on missions, aside from random selections such as the Draft. But thanks to you, good squire, we have now jumped to the top of the king’s list, I daresay. We’re very likely for it now, and you’ve none but yourself to blame.”

  “You should have told me. Told me earlier, I mean. If I’d known what you’d been about, I’d have …”

  “You’d have what? Assisted me in my subterfuge? Yes … yes, perhaps you would have, at that. Anyone capable of rigging an entire joust for his own ends certainly has a dim enough grasp of honor. I should have told you then, I suppose.”

  “But you’ve told me now. Why?”

  “Why?” He laughed bitterly. “Because we’re in the same boat now, me lad. I will do what I can to repair the damage you’ve done to my pleasant state of semi-retirement. Failing that, well … I shall have to attend to you.”

  I did not like the sound of that. “Attend to me, sir? What do you mean?”

  He did not answer. “You may leave now.”

  “But—”

  “I said … you may leave.” And with that, he turned his back to me. Realizing that the interview was over, I headed for the door, but his voice pulled me up short. “Apropos,” he said, “one who has no honor, and no use for it, might feel tempted to flee at a time like this. I am not saying you are without honor … but if you are … then I would not let that thought cross your mind. If I am in a difficult situation, then you who put me there are going to be right along with me. If you try to depart prematurely … I will find you. And things will not go pleasantly, I assure you.”

  I couldn’t help but feel that, considering I was someone whom no one seemed to like, people were going to great lengths to make sure that I remained where I was.

  The next day I understood what Sir Umbrage meant about repairing the damage. When Umbrage rose late, as he customarily did, he sauntered into the great hall where knights (many of them with hangovers) were eating a light lunch, and he called out, “A glorious day for a joust, isn’t it, my lords! When do we start?” He appeared to have no recollection of what had transpired the day before. Not only was this, in and of itself, enough to utterly confuse his fellow knights, but furthermore it was in fact a terrible day for a joust considering that it was pouring rain, the field having been reduced to a massive mudhole. When informed that he had in fact won the previous day’s bouts, Umbrage expressed laughing incredulity and refused to take anyone seriously who pressed the point. Thus did he endeavor to reestablish the status quo, and I believe in some measure he was successful, although there may have been a few who were slightly suspicious.

  As for me …

  That evening, after I finished my chores, there was a large man-at-arms waiting for me. I’d never seen him before; he might very well have been a freelance. He had a barrel chest and sloped brow, but he seemed quite intelligent. “You are Apropos?” he demanded.

  “No,” I said quickly.

  “That’s what I was told you’d say. Come along, then.” He turned and walked toward the training area where squires worked out every day. I followed him, curious as to what was happening.

  He produced two practice swords, tossed one to me, then took a stance and said, “Now do what I do.”

  And there, in the still of the night, we practiced and I was trained in the ways of knightly combat. This happened every night for several months. My mysterious, unnamed tutor only showed up at night, was never around during the day, and never engaged in any conversation other than to tell me what I was doing wrong (never what I was doing right). I could only assume that he had been hired by Sir Umbrage, who felt that I was going to need all the training I could get.

  I hoped he wasn’t correct.

  As it turned out, he was.

  Chapter 12

  All of which, reader, brings us back—as promised—to the beginning. For those of you whose memories do not stretch back quite that far, I had just been responsible for the death of Sir Granitz and covered up that culpability rather adroitly, when the king had dropped a rather charming comment upon me before departure:

  “I have a fairly hazardous mission to be assigned. I think you are just the man for it. Report in one hour.”

  The words hung over me as I hastily packed my belongings and prepared to get the hell out of Runcible’s castle.

  The body of Sir Granitz was already being readied for its funeral, and I was preparing to put as much distance between it, and my then-current surroundings, as I possibly could.

  The king’s pronouncement after Granitz’s death was not anything I needed to hear. A hazardous mission? I thought not. Report in one hour? I could be half a league away, farther if I managed to get my hands on a fast horse. Just the man for it? If anything underscored for me that the king had absolutely no idea with whom he was dealing, it was that.

  I didn’t have all that much in the way of belongings, so I had my pack filled just before Sir Umbrage entered the room. When we were alone, he no longer maintained the blank and vacant stare that he reserved for the other knights. I got the full impact of a glare that was loaded with quiet anger. “I just spoke to the king,” he said. “I informed him that I did not think you were ready for any sort of hazardous mission, in my humble opinion.”

  “You … you did?” I couldn’t believe it, and felt a wave of relief seizing me. “Thank you, milord. I mean that, from the bottom of—”

  “So he said I should accompany you.”

  I considered those words a moment, then slung my pack over my shoulder. “Good day to you, then.”

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  I laughed bitterly. “Anywhere but here.” I headed for the door.

  Umbrage grabbed my wrist in a grip that was nigh unto iron and swung me around. Instinctively I shielded my nose, but he made no effort to strike me. I was relieved, but only slightly.

  “You,” he said tersely, “whether you like it or not, are my squire. As such, your actions reflect on me. To be perceived as a doddering, less-than-effectual knight is one thing. To be dishonored by mentoring a squire who would flee rather than face a quest given him by the king himself … that I will not tolerate.”

  “And am I supposed to tolerate risking my life just because of a misplaced sense of duty?”

  “Yes, Apropos. That is exactly what you are supposed to do.” He smiled wanly. “You are the one who set these wheels into motion, squire. You’ve no one to blame but yourself, and I will be damned if I allow you to slip away and leave me behind to face the dishonor that you leave in your wake. I could have allowed Morningstar and his cronies to smash you to stew. I still might, if the mood suits me. For that matter, I may yet. Now … our king is expecting us in his chambers in ten minutes. We will both be there, or by God, it will go the worse for you. Do you understand me, squire?”

  Once again it struck me that, for someone as unpopular as I, it seemed an amazing number of people were intent on keeping me around. It would have been nice if any of them had been motivated by goodwill rather than wanting me to suffer.

  I dropped my pack to the floor, and Sir Umbrage nodded approvingly. All I could do was shake my head and say, “This is a fool’s errand and it will probably be the death of me.”

  “Well, my lad,” said Um
brage with disgusting cheerfulness, and he patted me on the shoulder. “Better you than me, that’s what I always say.”

  Unsurprisingly, it brought me little comfort.

  We proceeded to the king’s private audience chamber, as we were expected to do. The king, after all, did not conduct all of his business while seated upon a throne; that was for more stately affairs than the relatively simple task of sending a reluctant squire on some damned-fool mission that would likely get him killed. For something as trivial as sending me off to my death, nothing more was required but something relatively small and intimate. Of course, that is all relative; even the king’s smallest chamber was still three times as big as any other quarters in the place.

  There was a guard standing outside, but he was largely for show. We were, after all, in the heart of the castle proper. He nodded slightly to Umbrage and me, and we returned the gesture. We carried no sword or daggers, even the ceremonial type. It was against palace policy for weapons to be kept in private audience with the king and queen. No one expected trouble, of course … but anticipating trouble and expecting it were two different things.

  The guard, maintaining the proper form at all times, rapped on the door without turning his back to us. Anticipation, as I said, although I have to say there were few people in the castle who were less of a threat than us. In point of fact, I couldn’t readily think of any. From within, a voice called crisply, “Enter, please.”

  We did so, Umbrage prodding me lightly in the back to make certain that I stood up straight. Inside we saw a chamber elaborately furnished with gorgeously carved furniture and thick, purple curtains hanging draped over the windows. There was a work area, and also what was clearly a sitting area for entertaining company, with several comfortable-looking chairs, an equally plush bench, and a table in the middle. Seated in one of the chairs was Queen Beatrice, and she was pouring out tea. Three cups had been set out, and obviously two were intended for Umbrage and myself. “Please, gentlemen … sit.” She gestured toward the couch adjacent to her.

  I couldn’t help but glance around as we obeyed, and she caught the look. “No. The king isn’t here, if that’s what you’re wondering.” She smiled. She was as exceedingly pleasant and unaffected as she had been that day when I had awakened to my “new life.” There was something about her that commanded respect, not out of any sense of fear as was often the case with royalty, but instead just a pure decency that she seemed to exude.

  “Your presence is more than enough to honor us, Your Highness,” I said.

  She laughed lightly. “Sir Umbrage … your mentor takes after you in the art of flattery, at the very least.”

  “Thank you, Highness,” Umbrage said. “Teaching him that technique was the least that I could do. And I always endeavor to do the least that I can do.”

  Her brow knit slightly as she considered that sentiment as she poured out tea for us. “I made it myself.”

  “Really? We’re honored.”

  “So much honor, squire. You must set great store by it.”

  I shrugged noncommittally.

  “Well … to business, then. You have been polite enough not to inquire why I am attending to this rather than the king. The reason is that this is a matter of a somewhat personal nature. ‘Woman’s work,’ one might say.”

  “You require us to do … woman’s work?” asked Umbrage. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking at the moment. It might very well have been relief. How much trouble could one get into doing woman’s work? “I was under the impression that the king had some great quest in mind.”

  “There are all sorts of quests,” said Queen Beatrice. “This is more of an … emotional quest, I suppose. Which is why the matter has fallen to me.”

  “I will serve Her Highness however I can,” I said. “What would you have of me?”

  She looked into her tea glass for a moment as if endeavoring to read her fortune in the leaves. I took a sip of it. It wasn’t bad at all, actually. Then she said, “Entipy has come of age.”

  The phrase meant absolutely nothing to me. I looked questioningly at Umbrage, who said, “Entipy? The princess?”

  “That’s her name? Princess Entipy? What sort of name is Entipy?” I asked.

  Umbrage fired me a rather dire look, but the queen only smiled, taking no offense. “A fabricated one, good squire. There was a family dispute over the name. Family disputes at our level can lead to somewhat lethal consequences unless all are mollified. Her true name, to satisfy several different highly placed individuals, is Natalia Thomasina Penelope.”

  “N … T … P,” I said, and my smile mirrored the queen’s. “An excellent compromise, Highness. Not that it’s for me to judge.”

  “I will take it as a compliment rather than a judgment, squire.”

  “If I may ask … where is the princess? In all the time that I’ve been here, I don’t recall seeing her.”

  “She has not resided here for several years,” the queen said with a heavy sigh. “I’ve missed her terribly. But she was quite …” Her hands fidgeted. She looked quite uncomfortable. ” … wild … is the only term I can use that adequately describes her. Her behavior was rather unseemly, particularly during state functions. Her father and I love her dearly, but I freely admit that we were somewhat at our wit’s end. For the past years, she has been in the care of the Faith Women at the Holy Retreat. Someday … Entipy will be queen. She is our only child, the heir, but before one can be the best ruler possible, one must be the best person possible. Her father and I felt that removing her from an environment where she was pampered and pandered to would be the best thing for her. The Faith Women are a severe, strict, but loving order, and very knowledgeable in the ways of the world. We felt they would give her the grounding she needed. But now Entipy is of age, and she will have duties here in which she will be schooled.”

  “Have you seen her in all that time?”

  That seemed to be the toughest question of all for the queen to field. “The … Faith Women felt it would be best if we did not. They are good, knowledgeable women, the Faith Women are, and their wisdom in such matters is second to none. I wanted the best for my daughter. No woman wants any less.”

  There was silence for a time, and then Umbrage said tentatively, “Highness … I am still unclear as to the nature of our mission.”

  “Ah. Of course. How foolish of me.” She took another sip of tea and put the cup down. “Now that my daughter has reached maturity under the care of the Faith Women, she will be coming home. We are sending a group of knights to serve as her escort from there to here. You, squire, along with your mentor, will be among that group. But you will serve a different purpose than the others.”

  “I will?”

  “Yes. I want you … to be the princess’s friend.”

  I stared at her, then looked to Umbrage, whose face was a complete blank. I was certainly accustomed to such a look from him, since he had spent many years cultivating a stare of perpetual vacancy. But this time, I sensed, it was not manufactured. He seemed as much at a loss as I.

  “Her … friend?”

  “Yes. Technically, you will be assigned as her personal bodyguard. But more than that … I want you to be her friend. The princess had no one her own age with whom she could associate while she was here. I want you to make an effort to ingratiate yourself with her. Be friendly to her. Be pleasant. That may not be easy; she can be quite … a handful. She has fire within her, and I doubt that the Faith Women were entirely able to extinguish it. Nor should they, for she will need that inner fire if she is to rule. But I want you to let her know that it is not necessary to burn everyone who comes near. Be attentive. Listen to her. Accommodate her whenever possible, but don’t be afraid to stand up to her. No harm will come to you as a consequence of your saying no to the princess, you have my personal assurance of that.”

  “Highness, I …” I looked to Umbrage and back to her. “I’m not certain … if I’m the right person for this job. I do not pretend
to be a student of the human psyche. Perhaps she’d do better with another woman …”

  “Another woman,” the queen said, “will become more a coconspirator than a friend. Or a servant, bowing to her whim. That is not what she needs, squire.”

  “I bow to your wisdom in that regard, Highness … but surely you must see that I may not be what she needs either.”

  “Are you refusing my request, squire?”

  My lips suddenly felt rather dry. I wasn’t sure what to say.

  “Because if you are … no offense will be taken, I assure you.”

  I let out a sigh of relief. “That is … very generous of you, Your Highness.” I saw from the corner of my eye that Umbrage likewise looked relieved.

  “Oh, no, no offense at all. It’s … a pity, I admit. I had a feeling that you and Entipy would get on famously. A fiery young wench, quick-witted and the equal of any man. I thought you and she would take to each other … but, if nothing else, I wouldn’t want to force something upon you that you feel isn’t worthy of you.”

  “It’s not so much a matter of worthiness, Highness …”

  She continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “I mean, granted, this was a royal assignment, but that’s of no matter. There are other royal assignments, squire, to which I would be more than happy to attach you.”

  I felt my hair starting to prickle on the nape of my neck. “There … are?”

  “Yes.” She rose, gently setting her teacup down and then walking over to the work area. She whistled softly as she rummaged through some papers. “Ah. Here we are. The Screaming Gorge of Eternal Madness.” She said it with an air of anticipation.

  “The what?”

  “There is said to be,” the queen told us with clearly growing excitement, “a creature which lurks within the Screaming Gorge of Eternal Madness … a creature whose gizzard contains a fortune in diamonds. The royal treasury has taken something of a dip since the entire taxation fiasco in Pell. You could go to the Screaming Gorge of Eternal Madness, brave the creature, slay it, cut it open, and remove the diamonds. Granted, one hundred and seventeen … I’m sorry, eighteen,” she made an adjustment, scratching with a pen, “have made the attempt over the past several centuries. Only a handful have returned, and they were in varying states of insanity. One poor devil tore his own eyes out, another swallowed his tongue …” She shuddered. “In any event, the rest have not been heard from again, although it is said their screams can still be heard emanating from the gorge to this day. But perhaps you will be the fortunate pair. It could be the creature has mellowed with age.”