It takes all kinds. My father told me that.
The only other item on the agenda was the formal request of two of my subjects to be married.
As lord, I had the right to demand that the bride spend a night with me before she went to her husband, or to accept a bribe from the groom to not touch her. I didn’t like the custom. Either the girl was in love with her prospective husband, in which case she wouldn't want me, or she was pregnant, in which case I'd worry about harming the child, or both.
I always waived my rights to the bride. Heck, I had trouble enough satisfying the volunteers.
Naturally, I always gave my permission to marry, but they liked me to go through a certain amount of rigmarole. I asked the father of the bride if he gave his blessings on the proposed marriage. He did. Did the father of the groom bless this marriage? He did. Did anyone present see any reason why these two should not be married?
Nobody said anything. I nodded to Sir Vladimir. , “Know you that the proposed wedding between Maria Sklodowska, daughter of Tomas Sklodowski, and Mikolaj Kopernik, son of. . - ”
I nearly fell off my chair on the table. Maria Sklodowska was the maiden name of a woman scientist known as Madam Curie, after she married a Frenchman. And Mikolaj Kopernik was better known by his Latinized name, Copernicus. He was responsible for starting the entire modem scientific revolution!
And they were getting married?
It was a moment before my historical sense caught up with me. Copernicus was born in the fifteenth century, Madam Curie was born in the nineteenth century, and I was stuck in the thirteenth century. The names were obviously just a coincidence.
Obviously.
But I had Natalia make a note in the file that I should get yearly progress reports on any kids they had. There might be a genius coming along.
The dance went off pretty well. Krystyana. and I showed them the polka and the mazurka, which instantly became popular. Perhaps it was the fact that here was a way that you could hold a woman who ’Wasn't your wife, and do it in public in a socially acceptable way.
The yeomen did a vigorous, all-male number that involved huge leaps and clashing their axes together. It was something between a dance, a contest, and a military training exercise. It was vaguely reminiscent of a group of karate students running through a kata. Not as polished as the National Ballet, but impressive for all of that.
During a break in the dancing, I had a wooden framework I’d had made brought out. This had two small upright logs about two yards long set up so that we could adjust the distance between them.
I announced a contest. I would give six silver pennies to the man who could squirm through the smallest crack.
This was an unusual contest, but six pence was a whole week’s pay. The competition was spirited. Little Piotr Kulczynski won, but Krystyana wasn't impressed.
“Good,” I announced, “I was worried about a thief being able to crawl into our new building. Now I know how wide to make the windows!”
It was a successful event, and we agreed to throw a dance every two weeks from then on. Eventually, we even got a wooden dance floor.
I was getting ready to make the trip to Okoitz one more time when there was a commotion on the trail.
Friar Roman Makowski came in riding a mule with his cassock up almost to his waist. As he dismounted, I could see that the insides of his thighs were worn raw. Overexcited and limping, he rushed over to Sir Vladimir and me.
“Sir Conrad! Thank God I’ve found you!”
“Slow down, kid. What’s the problem?”
“It’s Tadaos, the boatman! They're going to kill him!”
“You’d better start from the beginning.”
“You remember the boatman we rode with on our way to Cracow? Well, this spring you wrote him a letter bearing Count Lambert’s seal that was sent through my monastery. Since I knew the man, I delivered it to him. He had to leave for Sacz immediately, but he said that he would reply on his return to Cracow.”
“You remember the deer he shot by the River Dunajec last fall? Well, he shot another one in the very same place two weeks ago.”
“Except this time it wasn’t a real deer, but only a dummy. As he got out of his boat to get his kill, the baron's men arrested him for poaching. They would have hanged him forthwith save that he had the letter from Lambert with him and the baron was loath to offend so great a lord as your liege.”
“He threw Tadaos into the donjon and wrote Lambert that unless a fine was paid, Tadaos would be hanged in six weeks! Again the letter came through my monastery and I obtained permission to deliver it directly to Lambert.”
“Lambert told me that it was none of his affair, but that you could do as you saw fit. So I came here and had the awfulest time finding you.”
“Then there’s a month to go before they hang him. We don't have to panic yet,” I said. “You have the baron's letter?”
The kid handed it to me and I read it. Medieval letters were just folded and only sealed shut if the matter was private. The seal on this one dangled from the bottom on a ribbon. They didn’t use envelopes, but parchment is pretty tough stuff.
“Baron Przemysl wants four thousand pence? For one lousy deer?” I gagged.
“And not a real deer, at that,” Vladimir said. “I’ve heard of this Tadaos and his poaching is notorious. But Cousin Przemysl is being even more greedy than usual.”
“You’re related to him?” I asked.
“He’s a third cousin, actually. Doesn't like to eat anything but fresh-killed game.”
“I hope he gets the gout.”
“In fact he is so afflicted. How did you know?”
“A pure meat-and-fat diet can do that to you. I guess I have to go to Sacz right after I do my duty at Okoitz.”
“But no, Sir Conrad,” Friar Roman said. “Count Lambert said that you could be excused this time if you wished to save Tadaos.”
“Sir Conrad! Do you mean to tell me that you actually intend to pay this fabulous sum to save the life of one criminal?” Vladimir said. “Why, knights have been talked into marriage with that as a dowry!”
“I guess I have to. I mean, I know the man, and once I was hungry and he shot a deer and I helped eat it. It’s not as if poaching was a mortal sin.”
“Mortal enough in this case. But if you mean to go, let’s make a lark of it. Let's take Annastashia and perhaps Krystyana and combine duty with pleasure. It's the best time of the year for traveling and I could show you all the sights.”
“I know most of the important people in that part of the country and we’d be invited in everywhere. Why, the whole trip shouldn't cost a penny, except you could buy salt at the mines where it's cheap. And I could show Annastashia to my parents.”
As soon as Krystyana heard of this one, I’d have no peace until I went along with it. Best to bow to the inevitable as soon as possible. Anyway, things were going smoothly here and I was ready for a vacation. I'd been working hard for almost a year and it was time.
“You talked me into it. We’ll leave in the morning. Friar Roman, do you want to come along?”
“With your permission, I have done certain damage to my privy members and-”
“And you’d better have them rubbed down with goose grease or some such and rest up here for a few days. Riding a hairy mule bareback while wearing nothing but a cassock was a dumb thing to do.”
“Yes, my lord. Also, I won’t be returning to Cracow for some time. My abbot has asked me to go to Okoitz to team about your cloth works there. He wants looms of his own at the monastery.”
Chapter Nine
We got a very early start, with the sun still far below the mountains as we rode out. The girls were on their palfreys and each led two of our sturdiest pack mules. Our baggage wasn’t all that much, but I wanted to bring back a ton of salt from the mines near Cracow for the winter. Salting was about the only way we had of preserving meat and I had a big hunt in mind come fall. The ladies did the leading, as Vladimir
insisted that a knight must not be encumbered, in case of emergency. He and I were in armor and on our war-horses, and Anna seemed to be delighted to be traveling, instead of hauling logs.
Krystyana had insisted that I wear the gaudy gold-and-red velvet surcoat given me after my run-in with the whoremasters guild in Cieszyn and I found Anna in the matching barding. I was surprised to find Krystyana in a matching dress with barding for her own horse. Furthermore, Vladimir and Annastashia were similarly decked out, but in Vladimir’s family colors, silver and blue. We even had pennons for our lances, which meant that I had to take a lance along, even though I'm not much good with one.
The girls had to have planned this weeks ago and must have bought the cloth in Cieszyn. I supposed that they had a lot of fun, sneaking around getting it made and that the others had similar garb. I’m sure I had paid for it somehow, but I was on vacation and wasn't going to let little things bother me.
So we made quite a pageant leaving Three Walls and despite the early hour, most of the people came to see us Off.
I’d been mostly wearing my grubbies for the last few months and I hadn't much noticed how shabbily my people were dressed. Now, the difference in our dress was so extreme that I started having guilt pangs and I vowed to buy a few dozen huge bolts of cloth next time I was in Okoitz.
We got to Sir Miesko’s manor just in time for dinner and by noon were on the road again under a clear blue sky. In a few hours we were on Lambert's trail, heading east and hoping to make Vladimir's home by nightfall.
We were laughing and singing all the way, acting for all the world like a bunch of drunks although none of us had downed more than a few beers in a row in the last month.
We met a caravan coming west, dozens of pack mules and a few guards in the somber garb of the German Teutonic Knights. They were friendly enough and saluted us as we got off the trail to let them by.
After the mules came a long line of prisoners and something hit me as being terribly, horribly wrong. There were maybe six dozen boys chained neck to neck. They were all naked, or nearly so. Their feet were bleeding and there were whip marks on their backs.
Behind them was a line of girls in the same pitiful shape. None of the children had much body hair. They were all adolescent or even younger.
“What-what is all this?” I asked the black-and-white clad knight at my side.
“Why, that’s a prime lot of slaves, heathens every one of 'em. My order saves the best ones when we takes a Pruthenian village. We sell 'em to merchants in Constantinople, Jews mostly, who sell 'em to the Moslems far south of there.”
“I know they look pretty rough now, but give ’em a bath and a few days to heal, and them Saracen buggers'll snap 'em up. Them girls'll all do harem duty and half the boys'll be castrated, 'cause them buggers're like that.”
“But none of those children is old enough to be a criminal.” I was flabbergasted.
“Well, who said anything about criminals? There’s no money in criminals! Who'd want to buy one? These are prime slaves we're taking to Constantinople.”
“You can’t do that!”
“Yeah? Who says-?”
“I do! These children don’t deserve what you have planned for them!”
“And just what do you intend to do about it?”
“I’ll show you!” I drew my sword.
FROM THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF SIR VLADIMIR CHARNETSKI
We were in a merry mood, my love and friends and 1, as we moved toward my father’s manor. Sir Conrad knows a thousand songs and stories and I know a few myself. What with our ladies' jokes and songs, it was truly pastime with good company.
We stopped to let a caravan of goods and slaves go by. I was joking with the ladies as Sir Conrad chatted with one of the Teutonic Knights of Saint Mary’s Hospital at Jerusalem, known as the Crossmen, or the Knights of the Cross, from the huge black crosses they all wear on their white surcoats. They were guarding the caravan and owned the slaves.
They are the largest body of fighting men in Poland and are not to be trifled with.
Suddenly, to the surprise of all, Sir Conrad drew his sword and rode down the line of slaves cutting their chains. So incredible is that skinny sword of his that the iron chains parted while hardly jerking the necks of the slaves. They, and everyone else, stood stark still staring at him.
Then one of the knights came to life, shouted a battle cry, and charged with his sword held high. So intent was Sir Conrad that I don’t think he noticed.
His horse, so remarkable in other ways, saw the Crossman coming, but perhaps in fear that if she reared up she would spoil Sir Conrad’s aim and so injure a slave, she kicked out sideways, breaking the man's thigh. I know that what I say is impossible, that a horse can't kick high sideways, but I tell you I saw it.
Sir Conrad turned as if seeing the man for the first time. The Crossman’s sword was still high and Conrad took his hand off between wrist and elbow. The sword went flying with a hand and part of an arm still clutched to it. The armor was still on the arm, for that blade cares nothing for steel or leather or bone.
The six other Crossmen attacked Conrad and I was faced with a moral dilemma, with no time to think it out!
You see, I was vassal to my father who was vassal to Count Lambert who was vassal to Duke Henryk the Bearded. Count Lambert had all of his vassals swear to defend the trail so that it might be safe for merchants. My duty to my father thus required that I aid the Crossmen in subduing Sir Conrad. But the duke had me swear to defend Sir Conrad and by that oath, I was bound to attack the Crossmen in Sir Conrad’s aid.
Now, did my oath to the duke, who after all was neither my liege nor my father’s, take precedent over my father's oath to Lambert? Or did the fact that the duke was Lambert's liege mean than an oath to him was more important than an oath to his vassal? I could not resolve it in the time I had.
In truth, I have not resolved it yet.
All I could think was that if there were no survivors, no one would hear of Sir Conrad’s indiscretions. The matter would never come before any of the liege lords involved and so my dilemma would not require resolution.
I lowered my lance and charged the Crossmen.
“For God and Poland!” I shouted, out of habit. In part, a battle cry is made to warn an opponent that you are coming, so that you won’t dishonorably take him unawares. But now the niceties of civilized combat were less important than the fact that all the Crossmen must die. After that, the baggagetenders and other peasants would be the work of a few moments.
They didn’t notice me coming, probably because of those barrel helmets they wear. There were so many of them trying to get at Sir Conrad that they couldn't all fit around him.
One man was hanging back watching the fight as I went by. I caught him square in the throat with a quick side jab of my lance. I saw the blood squirt and the Crossman start to topple. Then I was onto the main crowd of them and my lance tip caught one in the back of the neck just below the helm line. He fell beneath Witchfire’s hoofs as we went by, and I knew he was dead.
On my next pass, a Crossman turned to me as I came. I changed targets at the last instant and caught him in the eye slit. A difficult blow, but it went right in!
All the stories always talk about flashing swords and singing swords and every other kind of swords, but I tell you it’s good lancework that wins battles.
I was feeling glorious, unbeatable, as I turned again to see Sir Conrad’s sword trailing flecks of blood and a Crossman's body sitting headless on its horse.
The remaining two Crossmen, seeing five of their number dead without injury to Sir Conrad or myself, promptly turned and fled. I raced after them. We ran a mile or so, with Witchfire glorying in the race as much as I did in the fighting. Then they stopped and saw that the two of them were being ignominiously chased by a tone knight. Their pride got the best of them.
They turned and they charged.
They came at me together and passed one at either side of me. I manage
d to parry both their lances at the same time with my shield-no easy feat! Try it in your next battle!-but my lance got only a glancing blow off the helm of the Crossman to my left.
We all three of us turned and went at it again. Something Sir Conrad once said occurred to me, that when faced with a problem, one should be wary of thinking in ruts.
Knights always pass on the right because they carry their shields on their left arms and their lances in their right hand. So they’re used to striking another knight on their left, as I had done on the last pass.
This time I started out as usual, but switched opponents at the last instant and skewered my man right fair in the gut! He hadn’t thought to cover his belly on that side. More, my brilliant tactic so startled both of them that they both missed me entirely.
I turned to see the last Crossman riding for the horizon. Watching all six of his comrades die was just too much for him. We chased after him but to no avail. After two miles he was still drawing ahead of us. In hindsight, I blame this on the barding Witchfire wore. It was a warm day and I think it overheated him.
I turned back with an enviable fighting record, but having ultimately failed. That Crossman didn’t look likely to stop this side of Torun and once he was there all the forces of hell would break loose.
But we are all in the hands of God. A man can only do what is right and hope for the best.
For myself, why, I had killed four full knights in a single afternoon. Crossmen who are less than noble wear a “T” on their surcoats rather than a cross and none of these had done so.
My God! That meant that I had won four full sets of arms and armor! And four war-horses besides! For the first time in my life, I was rich! I could buy things and have spending money and-I wondered if Sir Conrad would sell me a plot of land where I could build a small manor for Annastashia, so even if my father didn’t bless our union-but no. She deserved a true husband and an honorable marriage.
The High-Tech Knight Page 10
