“Again I ask,” said the captain, “is there anyone here who challenges our right to our tribute?”
Hardly aware of what he was doing, Brian found himself moving. Pushing past those who stood in front of him, he stepped out into the square.
“Yes,” he said in a clear voice. “I challenge your right to tribute, and I challenge the Black Knight to prove that right by breaking a spear with me.”
There was a gasp, a surprised murmur from the crowd. The captain turned and looked at Brian as the king, his daughters and everyone in the vast throng were already doing. Only the Black Knight did not move, but sat his horse staring straight ahead of him.
“Who are you?” asked the captain.
“I am Brian of Caercorbin, son of Sir Owaine of Caercorbin.”
“You are a knight?”
“No. I am only a squire, but I am an armiger.”
“The Black Knight does not fight with boys,” said the captain contemptuously.
“He shall fight with me,” said Brian hotly, “or I shall proclaim him a false and recreant knight and a dastard!”
The captain looked long at him, then glanced sideways at his master. Still without turning, the Black Knight made a slight gesture.
“Very well,” said the captain. “Get your horse. If you have a horse.”
“I have a horse,” said Brian.
The crowd parted as he strode back toward the street that led to the inn, and now the eyes that were on him, though warm, were anxious and the murmurs were not of surprise but concern. Gaillard tossed his head and neighed in greeting when he saw him. Brian untethered him and took his gauntlets and tilting helm from his saddlebag. Then Tertius was there, his face pale.
“You’re mad!” he said. “Clean out of your wits! You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes,” said Brian, raising the hood of his hauberk and placing his arming cap on it. “Help me with my helmet.”
“This isn’t Sir Guy, with whom you were far luckier than you deserved to be. This Black Knight is a killer.”
“I know.”
“Then why did you do it?”
“Because I had to. You heard and saw what’s been happening here. I could not stand there before the whole town—a whole shire—and let his challenge go unanswered.”
“You could not! What’s Meliot to you? Or was it the Princess Alys’s beautiful blue eyes?”
“I had to do it!” said Brian impatiently. “I don’t know why. I didn’t even know I was going to until I did it. Now will you help me?”
“No,” said Tertius.
“Very well. Then I’ll do it myself.” And putting on the helmet, he began fumbling with the thongs that held it in place.
“You know your trouble, don’t you?” said Tertius. “You’ve read too many knightly tales, and you believe them: believe that the true knight who’s pure in heart shall conquer. I suspected it when we first met and even liked you for it. But if I’d realized how deep it went! All right. Stop making a cat’s cradle of those thongs. I’ll do it.”
Deftly he laced the helmet on. Then, when Brian had swung up into the saddle, he handed him his shield and lance.
“Thanks,” said Brian.
“Don’t thank me. You’re making me feel like a murderer, too. If you should live through this, we’ll have to have a talk. Meanwhile … Good luck, Brian.”
“Thanks,” said Brian again.
Touching his heels to Gaillard, he sent him cantering out of the innyard, up the street and into the square. A sigh greeted him and not a few people crossed themselves and murmured a prayer.
The Black Knight had not moved. He still sat his charger in the center of the square, facing the king. But when Brian appeared, he turned the stallion and, holding him on a tight rein, sent him pacing slowly to the far end of the square. Brian turned Gaillard and rode the other way, then turned again so that he was facing the Black Knight, with the whole length of the square between them.
Looking to the left through the slit in his helmet, Brian could see the king and his two daughters on the church steps. Their eyes were on him but, while Galleron and Lianor were serious, frowning, Alys’s lips were parted in a small smile and her eyes were shining. He glanced to his right. The Black Knight’s captain stood there, his sword drawn, prepared to act as marshall and give them the signal. Though he could see little of the crowd, he could sense it all around him.
He couched his lance. Gaillard had seen the black stallion and was tossing his head, straining to be off. And then, suddenly, exactly what it meant—the things Tertius had tried to tell him—came home to him. Though the midday sun blazed down on him from overhead, as he looked at the Black Knight, still and faceless, on the far side of the square, he began to tremble with a chill that was not physical. For it seemed to him that whoever the Black Knight was and wherever he had come from, he could not be human.
The captain raised his sword and, clenching his teeth, Brian fought to steady himself. Then, as the sword came down, he drove in his heels and Gaillard was off, pounding over the cobbles in a gallop. Now, as before, Brian’s muscles took over and he rode loosely, holding Gaillard slightly in check, gripping his lance lightly but firmly. Though Simon’s horse had been well-trained, strong and eager, he had never felt such controlled power as he now felt between his thighs. But the black stallion was just as big as Gaillard, perhaps even bigger. He bore down on Brian like a thundercloud in a gale, head forward, teeth bared and eyes wild. And if the Black Knight had been terrible before in his stillness, he was even more terrible now as he thundered down—at one with the stallion—like some massive engine of destruction.
They were almost upon each other. Giving Gaillard his head, Brian clamped his legs and gripped his lance tightly, driving the point at the center of the Black Knight’s shield. There was a sudden tremendous shock and, as Brian’s lance shattered, it was as if he had been struck by a thunderbolt. For there was a sudden blaze of light, so bright that it blinded him, then all became dark.
CHAPTER SIX
The first thing Brian saw when he opened his eyes was a canopy. Puzzled, he looked up at it, then around. The canopy was over a bed. He was lying in the bed, a much larger one than his mother’s, in a completely strange room. It too was larger than his mother’s and much more richly furnished. There were not only chests and benches in it, but several chairs and a table, and two of the walls were covered by tapestries.
His head ached and, when he tried to sit up, he winced at the sudden sharp pain in his right side and shoulder.
“Greetings,” said Tertius, coming over to the bed from the window. “I gather I don’t have to tell you to be careful how you move.”
“No,” said Brian. “Where is this?”
“The castle.”
“King Galleron’s?”
“Yes. They brought you in here from the square. How do you feel?”
“Well, my head hurts, and my shoulder and my side, but …”
“It’s not surprising. You’ve been unconscious since they brought you here. And that was yesterday.”
“Yesterday?”
“Yes. I think you had a concussion. Your collarbone and several ribs were broken, and you have a great gash in your side. But you were still lucky. Not as lucky as you were with Sir Guy, but luckier than you deserved to be.”
“Yes,” said Brian. “I suppose I was.” Looking down, he saw that his right arm was in a sling and that a bandage circled his chest. “Who’s been taking care of me? You?”
“No. The princess.”
“Alys?” he asked hopefully.
“No, Lianor. She seems quite good at it.”
“Oh,” said Brian. “Exactly what happened? I mean, I know I was unhorsed …”
“His lance must have glanced off your shield. The mail of your hauberk was torn on the right side. And when you fell, you got the concussion and broke your collarbone.”
Brian nodded. “It was only my second joust. I’ll do better next time.�
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“And when will that be?” asked Tertius coldly.
“I don’t know. They paid the tribute?”
“Yes. It’s all over until Yule.”
“You’re still angry at me, aren’t you?”
“Not as angry as I was. I thought you were going to be killed.”
“So did I. For a moment, anyway. But by that time, there was nothing I could do about it.”
The door opened and King Galleron and the Princess Lianor came in. The king’s face was still drawn and careworn but, when he saw Brian sitting up, it relaxed somewhat.
“You’re awake, then. I’m glad. We were concerned about you.”
“There was no reason to be, Your Majesty,” said Brian.
“Wasn’t there? My brother, Dinas, lay in a swoon like that after fighting the Black Knight, and he never awoke from it.”
“I told you this was different, father,” said Lianor.
“So you did. But when a man has lived with misfortune for as long as I have, he expects the worst. Are you in much pain?” he asked Brian.
“No, Your Majesty. Only when I try to move my arm.”
“Which you shouldn’t do,” said Lianor. “Not for some time.”
“You’d best listen to her,” said the king. “She’s a good healer, has been ever since she was a child. She said you would be better today, but I wanted to see that for myself. And I also wanted to thank you for what you did yesterday.”
“But I did nothing, Your Majesty. Or at least I accomplished nothing.”
“You tried, risked your life to help us and no one can do more than that. If I’d known that you were going to challenge the Black Knight, I would have forbidden it. For it’s been said that there’s only one man in the world who can overthrow him.”
“The Knight with the Red Shield.”
“You knew that?”
“Yes.”
“And still you challenged him. Why?”
“I suppose because I didn’t believe it.”
The king smiled faintly. “If there’s ever a time when we believe we’re invincible, it’s when we’re young. But we all meet our Black Knights.”
“Who, in turn, will one day face the Knight with the Red Shield.”
“True,” said the king. “At least, I hope it’s true and that it happens soon. For if it does not …” He broke off. “But that is my concern, not yours. As I said, I came here to thank you, which I do. And since you will be staying here with us until you are well, and as long after that as you wish, we shall talk again.”
Nodding to Brian and Tertius, he left. Now Lianor came over to the bed. She wore a short-sleeved yellow gown, and her dark hair hung down her back in two braids. She carried a basket in which there were flasks, vials and small earthenware jars. She set it down, and with deft, steady hands took off the bandage. Brian looked down at his side with a good deal of interest; after all, it was his first wound. Though it was long, running from his chest around to his back, it did not seem deep.
“It’s healing,” said Lianor. “But this will make it heal more quickly.” And taking one of the jars from the basket, she spread a grayish ointment on the wound.
Tertius had come over to the bed too.
“May I ask what that is, princess?” he asked.
“An ointment.”
“Yes, but what’s it made of? It’s not vervaine, millefoil or pennyroyal.”
“If you must know, it’s made of mold.”
“I thought so. An antibiotic,” he explained to Brian.
“No. It’s just mold, mixed with a few herbs and simples.” She was putting the bandage on again. “There. As for your ribs and collarbone, they should be mended in three or four weeks.”
“Three or four weeks?” said Brian.
“Yes. Why do you sound so dismayed? Do you find it so unpleasant here?”
“No, princess. Of course not. It’s just that Tertius and I are on a quest.…”
“What sort of a quest?”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you.”
“I see. Well, you won’t be able to use that arm for some time, so you’ll just have to make the best of it.”
“Yes, princess.” And when she had finished putting on the bandage and adjusting the sling, “Thank you.”
“There’s no need to thank me. I’ve done as much for others who did far less for Meliot.”
“Where did you learn your healing?”
“Here and there. Why?”
“It seems strange for a princess to know such things.”
“No stranger than it is for anyone else. I had a nurse who was a very wise woman and she taught me.”
“Your sister, too?”
She looked at him shrewdly. Her lashes were long and dark and her eyes were green, a deep sea-green, with golden lights in them.
“No. Alys was interested in other things.”
“What other things?”
“If you don’t know, why don’t you ask her?”
Brian noticed that Tertius was smiling, and he didn’t like it.
“It’s not that important,” he said stiffly.
“May I come in?” asked a voice from the doorway. Brian glanced past Lianor, and his heart skipped a beat. It was Alys.
“Of course,” said Lianor, picking up her basket. “I was just going.”
“Let me help you, princess,” said Tertius. He took the basket from her, and they went out together.
Alys came over to the bed. She was wearing a blue dress, the color of her eyes, with long, full sleeves. Her pale-gold hair was covered by a veil.
“My father told me that you were awake,” she said. “I know that he thanked you for what you did yesterday. But I wanted to tell you how brave I thought you were.”
“I wasn’t brave,” said Brian. “I was foolish.”
“Foolish?”
“How could I have expected to overcome the Black Knight when he had already overthrown some of the greatest champions in England?”
“But still you challenged him. Why?”
“I think you know why, princess,” he said with sudden boldness.
She flushed slightly, lowering her eyes. “Perhaps I do,” she said. “How long will it take for your side to heal?”
“Just a few days. But your sister says it will be several weeks before I can use my arm again.”
“I see. Of course there’s no need for you to go immediately even then. Sir Uriel was not nearly so badly hurt when he fought the Black Knight at Yule, and he’s still here.”
“Oh? What’s he like?”
“Sir Uriel? He’s a most worthy knight and a very interesting man. He plays the harp beautifully, knows all about food and wine, and has been to the court at Camelot. He met the king and queen and can tell you everything about everyone there.”
Brian felt a twinge of jealousy. “Has he fought in many tourneys?”
“Yes, I think so. Why?”
“I’d like to meet him.”
“I’ll tell him that. I must go now; there are things that I must do. But I’ll stop in again.”
“This afternoon?”
“Perhaps. If not then, tomorrow.”
Smiling, she left. Shortly after that, one of the serving wenches brought him a bowl of soup. He finished it and fell asleep. When he woke, his headache was gone, and he found he had another visitor; a tall, rather limp man with straw-colored hair and long mustachios. He wore a bright scarlet tunic embroidered with gold thread and, standing just inside the open door, he looked very elegant and just a little vague.
“Hope I didn’t wake you,” he said. “Alys thought I should stop by; but when I got here, you were asleep.”
“No, you didn’t wake me,” said Brian. “You must be Sir Uriel.”
“What? Oh, yes. Thought you knew. Saw your joust with the Black Knight. Good show.”
“Not good enough, unfortunately.”
“Well, can’t win ’em all, you know. Of course he’s a swine—the Black K
night, I mean—demanding tribute and all that. But he’s a rare jouster. Knocked me heels over crupper last Yule. Not too badly hurt, were you?”
“No. A broken collarbone and some ribs.”
“Well, as long as it wasn’t an arm or a leg. They’re troublesome. Or your neck—that’s even worse. You’ve a good seat, lots of dash. But you should learn how to fall.”
“I suppose so. But I’d rather learn how not to fall.”
“How not …? Oh, very good. I’ll have to remember that. Of course, if you had to get hurt, you couldn’t find a better place to recover than this: comfortable quarters, good food. And, of course, the girls. Lianor’s very nice, and besides being so practical, she’s really quite pretty. And Alys …!”
“Yes,” said Brian.
“You think so too, eh? Well, why not? It was after I saw her that I decided to take a whack at the Black Knight. I usually stay away from that type, the ones who hove at fords and all; they’re pretty rough customers as a rule. And I must say he set me down in short order. Of course I wasn’t as badly hurt as you, but …” He had wandered over to the window while he was talking and now, looking down, his face brightened. “Afraid I have to go now. Hope you’re up and about soon.”
“Thank you,” said Brian.
He lay there for a moment after Sir Uriel left. Then throwing back the sheet, he got out of bed. He caught his breath at the sudden stab of pain in his shoulder and side. When it had gone away, he went over to the window and looked out also. There was an enclosed garden just below the window. Climbing roses covered the walls, and there were hollyhocks and larkspur in the borders. There was a pool in the center of the close with water lilies in it, and Alys was strolling on the flagstone walk in the shade of an ancient linden.
Brian was still at the window when Tertius came in.
“I thought you were supposed to be wounded,” he said. “Practically at death’s door.”
“You know I’m not,” said Brian sullenly. “And anyway, there’s nothing wrong with my legs. Where have you been?”
“To see my friend, the goldsmith.”
“Oh. Well, I’m glad you have a friend here.”
“You mean you don’t think you have?”
“I don’t know.” Then, as Tertius studied him, “My head’s starting to hurt again.”
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