by Tonke Dragt
“You are sorely tempting me,” said the Lord of Islan, with a threatening frown.
“Oh, be quiet!” cried Isadoro, coming to stand between the two men. “What good will it do you to rebuke us, Sir Ristridin? We were complicit in everything that has occurred in the Wild Wood – and if we let you go, it is only to protect ourselves.”
“Isadoro…” her father began.
“Or are you scared of his revenge?” she sneered. “Do you think we can ever expect anything good from a ruler who does not value a man’s life, or that it really matters if we obey him or not? Let Sir Ristridin go! We have not known a moment’s calm since he came here.”
“Quiet, Isadoro,” said Fitil. He looked at Ristridin. His fury was gone. “Yes,” he said dully. “It is madness, but for her sake and in the name of God, go – and leave me in peace.”
Ristridin turned away for a moment from the despair in Sir Fitil’s eyes. But he pulled himself together and said, “Your own conscience will perhaps be a better judge of you than I. You are setting me free, but I will not go until you have told me more. How did you keep my disappearance a secret? Where are knights Bendu and Evan?”
As he was speaking, Isadoro silently left the room.
Sir Fitil recovered sufficiently to look angry. For a moment it seemed that he would refuse to answer. Then he growled, “False rumours are easily spread. Your friends will be in Deltaland by now, or at the border.”
“Why?”
A look of something like triumph flashed briefly across Fitil’s face. “To repel the invasion,” he replied, “Deltaland’s invasion of the Kingdom of Dagonaut. But, believe me, that is not a false rumour. Deltaland is indeed invading, and Eviellan has rushed to the aid of our land! I am sure I do not have to add that it was actually Eviellan who planned that invasion. Deltaland is, of course, dependent on that land. An insignificant little incursion, which has probably been repelled by now. But the goal has been achieved: Dagonaut’s knights have been lured to the border and attention has been diverted from the Wild Wood. The case for an alliance between Eviellan and Dagonaut grows stronger. Oh, by the way,” he added, “another rumour has been spread, to say that you, Sir Ristridin, had already set out for Deltaland.”
“So,” said Ristridin slowly, “I have no friends nearby to help me. You have done your work well, Sir Fitil.”
“No,” said the Lord of Islan. “If I had done my work well, you would no longer be alive. And,” he continued with bitter self-mockery in his voice, “it was not my own work I was doing, but Eviellan’s donkeywork! Please, go now.”
Sir Ristridin remained where he was. “And still I dare to place some trust in you, Sir Fitil,” he said. “It is not yet too late! You have men, soldiers who could…”
“No!” said the Lord of Islan, and he clearly meant it. “I am a traitor through and through, but I cannot and will not choose a different course. Begone from my castle and look after your own affairs.”
“Fine,” said Ristridin. “But listen, Fitil! Keep your men at the ready and fortify your castle. For this is what I predict: the enemy in the forest will soon turn his fury upon our kingdom, and Islan will be his first target! If you have not yet forgotten your oath to Dagonaut, then prepare yourself to resist him.”
“I do not believe that,” said Fitil in a monotone.
“You know I am right,” said Ristridin, and he looked at Isadoro, who had just returned, with her arms full. She was carrying his sword, his shield, his silver horn and his torn cloak. “You should send your daughter to a safer place,” he added, taking his sword, horn and cloak from her.
“No,” she said proudly. “I will remain here, where I belong.”
In spite of all that had happened, Ristridin felt admiration for her, and he bowed silently.
“Here is your shield,” she said.
“Permit me to leave it here,” he said. “I intend to abandon my name here for now and to travel as an unknown knight. But if you should have a horse for me…”
“Take everything you want,” growled Sir Fitil, “and begone.”
Ristridin asked, “When will the attack on the Kingdom of Unauwen begin?”
“I do not know,” replied Fitil. And then, suddenly, he roared, “I told you I was just doing their donkeywork, didn’t I? Now, please, go!”
So Ristridin went.
3 RED QUIBO
Sir Ristridin left Castle Islan, and the gate was shut behind him and the drawbridge raised. Sitting on his horse, he thought for a moment. Back to King Dagonaut, who had sent him on his mission, it was almost a week’s journey. And he had little time… maybe no time at all. And he would have to gather many, many men if he wished to make a stand against Eviellan. He knew there was only one place he could go: Castle Ristridin. That was the nearest castle, and he could trust his brother Arturin. A moment later, he was riding south as fast as an arrow, without a shield and with his visor closed. The enemy did not know he was free and could not be allowed to find out. That meant there was still a chance to bring about his downfall!
The day was drawing to a close as Ristridin set out. As the next day dawned, he reached the village on the southern edge of the Forest of Islan and stopped at an inn, the very one where Tiuri, Piak, Evan and Bendu had spent a night on their journey to Islan. Ristridin did not want to delay, but his horse was tired. He would need a fresh one if he meant to reach Castle Ristridin that day.
The inn appeared to be closed so early in the morning, but, after a few knocks on the door, the innkeeper came out. He looked up in surprise at the tall knight with the closed visor.
“What do you need, sir knight?” he asked.
“A moment’s rest and a fresh horse,” replied Ristridin. “I must ride onwards as soon as possible.”
“A horse, sir? Yes, sir!” said the innkeeper. “Come on in.”
The inn was not very welcoming. Last night’s dirty cups and glasses had not yet been cleared away, but were cluttered across a large, stained table, and among them lay the red-haired head of a man who was probably sleeping off whatever he’d had to drink the night before. As Ristridin came in, he looked up and stared at him with dull eyes.
“What would you like to eat, sir knight?” said the innkeeper, noisily pushing aside the dirty cups and so preventing the redheaded man from going back to sleep.
“I don’t mind,” replied Ristridin. “A little bread and some water. I’d rather you looked into finding me a horse.”
“H… horse?” said the redheaded man. Then he gave a loud yawn.
“Why don’t you just get out of here, Quibo?” said the innkeeper irritably. “You’re no credit to my establishment.”
“I most certainly am!” Quibo objected. “I made a fine display of finishing off your brandy last night, didn’t I? And I feel too wretched now to…”
“Ah, hold your tongue,” barked the innkeeper. He quickly put down a plate of bread and mug of water in front of his anonymous guest and said in a solicitous voice, “I shall ensure you have a horse, sir knight.”
“Huntsman Bas has good horses,” said Quibo, with another yawn.
The innkeeper’s face lit up. “I shall go and see him at once,” he said, and he left.
Sir Ristridin was about to open his visor to eat. But as he looked at the other guest, he thought better of it.
The man was rubbing his eyes. His voice sounded less sleepy when he next spoke, “You have no need to fear my keen gaze, sir knight! I see nothing and hear nothing until the sun has reached its highest point. And by then I’m so sleepy that I spend my afternoon pondering and resting until evening comes.”
He reached out a hand for Ristridin’s mug, then seemed a little startled by his own boldness. He went on, “Oh, if I could just get my thoughts in order… Who are you?”
“Why do you ask the very question I cannot answer?” said Ristridin abruptly, but not unkindly.
“Ah, a thousand times forgiveness, noble sir! I shall bid you farewell and humbly take my leave,”
said the redheaded man. He staggered to his feet and immediately fell back down onto his chair. “Just get my breath back…” he mumbled.
Ristridin stood up, walked to the door and looked outside. But, of course, the innkeeper couldn’t possibly be back yet. He sat back down at the table and noticed that the young man with the red hair was now completely awake and was watching him closely.
“I beg you,” he said, “do not wait to eat on my account, Sir… Ristridin.”
“Sir Ristridin?! Wherever did you get that idea?” asked the knight, trying to conceal his surprise.
“You do not know me, but I know you,” came the reply. “I do not need to see a face to know who I’m talking to. I have often seen you riding and watched you with admiration. But of course you never noticed me. Red Quibo is my name.” Ristridin did not respond.
“And now you are finally returning from your journey through the Wild Wood,” the strange fellow continued. “In secret, with your visor down, and maybe even feeling a little shocked and surprised. Did you see them, too, the men in red, green and black, holding their tourney in that quiet and lonely spot?”
“Hush!” said Ristridin. He rose to his feet. Large and threatening, he towered over Red Quibo.
Red Quibo looked up nervously at Sir Ristridin. “I…” he began.
“Be silent,” said Ristridin, sitting down beside him. “Not another word!” He raised his visor and looked sternly at Quibo. “It is not a joke that I wish to remain unknown,” he added. “It is true I am shocked and surprised that you know what is in the Wild Wood. But in the name of God, be silent, and pretend you do not recognize me, until I have had the chance to talk to you properly. You are sober now, aren’t you?”
“As a judge,” said Quibo. “But…”
“Not another word,” repeated Ristridin. His voice and manner had the desired effect, as Quibo kept his mouth closed. Ristridin pulled the plate of bread towards him and started to eat. He offered some to Quibo, who just mumbled, “I couldn’t swallow a bite.”
As footsteps approached, the knight quickly closed his visor. The innkeeper came in and said, “There are two horses outside, sir knight. I shall saddle whichever one you prefer.”
“Can you ride?” Ristridin asked Quibo.
“I can,” he replied.
“Then saddle them both,” Ristridin said to the innkeeper. “This young man is coming with me.”
“Quibo?! Fine, sir. Yes, sir,” said the innkeeper and he walked off with a puzzled look on his face.
“Me? Coming with you?” exclaimed Quibo. “But I…”
Ristridin interrupted him. “No objections, if you please.”
“But why?” cried Quibo.
“I need a squire,” Ristridin casually replied. “And besides, you and I have to talk.”
That was true, but Ristridin had another reason for wanting to keep Quibo in his care. The man looked as if he enjoyed a good few glasses of brandy – and Ristridin was sure that once he’d had a few, he might easily say too much.
“Come with me,” he ordered, heading outside.
Red Quibo obeyed him without any further objections, but he wore an expression of disbelief as he followed the knight and waited for the horses to be saddled. “I could be dreaming, of course…” he muttered to himself as he climbed onto the horse.
Ristridin pressed some coins into the innkeeper’s hand and said, “The owner of these horses will have them back as soon as possible. My thanks for your help. And mark this: by the crown of King Dagonaut and the swords of his knights, I implore you to remain silent about my visit. Farewell.”
“Nicely spoken, sir knight!” said Quibo with a sigh.
Ristridin mounted his horse and rode away, followed by his reluctant squire.
“I haven’t even had any breakfast!” whined Red Quibo.
“You weren’t hungry,” said Ristridin. “Now onwards, at a gallop.”
“On an empty stomach? It’ll make me sick,” wailed Quibo. “Me? A squire… It’s outrageous, ridiculous!”
But Ristridin noticed that he sat well in the saddle and, before long, they were racing along the road to the south.
After a while, Quibo yelled out, “Sir knight, please, can’t we rest? Just for a moment?”
He could not see that Ristridin was smiling when he stopped and said, “Fine. It’s quiet here. We can go more slowly and talk.”
Red Quibo ran one grubby hand through his hair and said grumpily, “I am your servant, my lord, although I still do not understand why you disturbed my sleep and dragged me along to… I don’t know what… slavery, or some castle or a battle.”
“There could be more truth in your words than you realize, Quibo,” said Ristridin. “Great dangers threaten this land and another. What do you know about the Wild Wood?”
Quibo sighed. “I shall tell you if you wish,” he said. “But allow me to sit safely on the ground while I do so.”
Ristridin gave him permission, and Quibo then repeated the story he’d told some weeks ago to Sir Bendu, Tiuri and their companions.
“So this happened to you a while ago!” said Ristridin. “Why did no one hear about it before?”
“No one believed it before!” cried Quibo. “I told the story to anyone who would listen. About the tourney, and about that sinister valley among the hilly slopes.”
“Well, right now it’s best if they continue to see your experiences as just a story,” said Ristridin. “But what you saw is the truth, Quibo, and those warriors at the tourney were not ghosts or phantoms, but men.”
“Really?” whispered Quibo. “I can’t say that’s a reassuring thought. What manner of men could they be?”
“They come from Eviellan,” replied Ristridin.
“Oh, so that’s why you’re in such a hurry. Not to return to your home, but to catch up with him!”
“Him? Who are you talking about?”
“The knight who rested at the inn last night. A knight in raven-black and red – I mean in black armour and with a red shield.”
This was news to Ristridin. “Tell me more!” he said.
“There is no more to tell, my lord. I… I was not entirely clear-headed, if you catch my meaning.” Red Quibo scratched his head and grinned apologetically. “He reminded me of something…” he added, “and now I know what it was: the wood!”
“And he went this way?”
“My memory is a hazy fog… I believe he came from the north and was going south.” Quibo pulled a face as if it were painful for him to think.
“Then we shall swiftly move onwards,” decided Ristridin, getting to his feet. He walked some way down the track, looking carefully at the ground. “A knight has ridden this way recently, in the same direction as us,” he commented. “Come on, Quibo!”
“Sir knight,” he replied, “I have told you everything I had to say. Can I go back home now?”
“And to your inn?” said Ristridin.
“I shall not breathe a word of what I know.”
“Even if you’ve been drinking brandy, Quibo?”
“Even then! And what I drink is not your affair, knight,” said Quibo with a flash of anger.
“If it loosens your tongue, it is my affair,” said Ristridin gravely. “So my answer is no, Quibo! You are coming with me, for as long as this knowledge must remain secret.” He grabbed Quibo by the shoulder and pulled him to his feet. “Do not bother objecting,” he continued. “You are staying with me, whether you like it or not.”
“I shall only be a millstone around your neck, my lord!” Quibo cried. “I’m the strangest rogue of a squire ever to ride a horse.”
“That may well be,” said Ristridin, “but that is how it is.” As he remembered Ilmar, young, cheerful Ilmar, his squire who had been killed, he sighed.
“Sir knight…” said Quibo.
Ristridin looked at him and saw that his face was actually bright and kind-hearted, even though it was grimy and showed signs of too much drinking.
�
�Yes?” he said.
“What must be must be,” said Red Quibo solemnly. “With my empty stomach and my weary head, I will follow you into… unto… until the day I’m allowed to go home.”
“Good,” said Ristridin with a smile. “Then let’s ride on.”
“May I say something else, my lord?” said Quibo. “Would it not be better to keep your horn in your saddlebag? I can see it glinting and glimmering through the rips in your cloak.”
“So that’s how you recognized me!” cried Ristridin.
“No, that wasn’t it – that just confirmed my suspicions. One doesn’t come across such a fine silver horn every day.”
“Or such an observant pair of eyes as yours,” said Ristridin. “My thanks for your good advice. I shall follow it immediately.”
“It is not far to go now,” said the knight a little later. “A few more bends in the road and we shall see the castle.”
“As long as it’s not too many bends!” muttered Quibo. “I’m already feeling dizzy. I don’t want to go tumbling from my horse.”
Ristridin pretended not to hear his complaints. “And there,” he said, as they went around the first bend, “is the knight you were talking about, a Black Knight with a Red Shield.”
“Let him ride on,” said Quibo dully. “We’re too tired to catch up with him.”
The horses were indeed weary, but still Ristridin urged his steed on. A knight from Eviellan who had come from the north… maybe from Islan or from the Wild Wood. He wanted to find out more.
The Black Knight looked around, before reining in his horse and waiting for Ristridin to reach him.
“Greetings, sir knight!” he called. “Travelling companions are always welcome.” He had raised his visor and Ristridin saw a face that, in spite of its smile, seemed gloomy and grim.
He did not know the man, but then he had never looked his mortal enemy, the Knight with the Red Shield, in the face.
“And greetings to you, sir knight,” Ristridin replied. But he did not lift his own visor.
4 SIR KRATON OF INDIGO
