by Gene Wolfe
Woddet looked surprised. “Glad to hear you’re up to it. I never wanted to kill you. Just thrash you, and I tried. You are a man of your hands, Sir Able.”
“Only not of the lance.”
Woddet grinned. “No.”
“Not yet, but I will be. Why’d you want to thrash me?”
He looked at me, trying to size me up. “Are you of gentle blood?”
“Is that like noble? No.”
He shook his head. “Noble blood means an inherited title, and lands. Knighthood’s not inheritable. Gentle blood simply means your ancestors were never in trade or worked with their hands.”
I explained that our grandparents had been farmers, and our dad had run a store. “I’d really like to tell you I’m some king’s lost kid,” I said, “but there wouldn’t be a word of truth in it.”
He had trouble looking at me. “Well, you see, Able, when someone is of gentle blood—”
“Sir Able,” I told him.
“All right. But when someone is of gentle blood, as I am and the others, and someone else who isn’t claims it, or claims to be a knight when he is not, for instance ...”
“For instance what?”
“Well, we’re supposed to beat him. Not kill him, thrash him. Or if he says someone who is of gentle blood hasn’t got it, that’s the same thing.”
“Okay. There was somebody there that said I wasn’t a real knight, and I said I was but he wasn’t.”
Woddet nodded. “We couldn’t be certain you weren’t a knight yourself, though none of us believed you. But when you said Sir Hermad wasn’t, that loosed the string.”
“I see. I really am a knight. If you don’t believe me, we’ll fight.”
Woddet smiled. “With lances?”
“Here. Right now. You’ve got a sword. Are you too scared to use it?”
“Not I!” He drew his sword faster than he stood up, and he stood’up fast. It was just a blur of steel and the point was pricking my throat. He said, “You declare yourself a knight, however. I can’t kill an unarmed knight. Gentle right.”
“I told you about my folks. I haven’t got gentle blood.”
“But I do.” Woddet sheathed his sword almost as quickly as he had gotten it out. He was trying not to grin. “I’ll have to ask His Grace’s herald.”
I said I would rather we were friends.
“I’ve given you my hand.” He shrugged. “Still I wish you had ancestors, Sir Able. It would make everything much easier for both of us.”
“I’m an ancestor,” I told him.
I went to see Master Thope after that like I had said I would. I was nearly back to my room when I ran into Master Agr and a tall man with a white beard and a red velvet cloak. Master Agr was surprised to see me up and around, and said, “Here he is, Your Grace!”
I knew then that the other man was Marder, so I bowed. I would probably have guessed it from his clothes anyway. I had learned enough about clothes by then to know that they had cost a lot of money.
Marder smiled at me. “I’d heard you were bedridden, young man.”
I said, “I was, Your Grace. I’m better today.”
“Much better.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Agr said, “We came looking for you, and found an empty bed. I was afraid someone had killed you and made off with the body. Where have you been?”
I explained that I had gone to thank Master Thope. “I wanted to thank you, too, Master Agr, only your man said you were with His Grace. I—you did me a big favor. Anytime you want one from me, a boon or anything, just let me know. I’ll probably never be able to pay you back, but I’ll try.”
Marder cleared his throat. “You know who I am, young man. I know only what Master Agr has told me concerning you, and I’d like to hear what you say about yourself. Who are you?”
“I’m Sir Able of the High Heart, Your Grace. A knight who will serve you gladly and loyally.”
“Moneyless, too,” Agr added under his breath.
“Not exactly, but I haven’t got a whole lot.”
Marder nodded. He looked serious. “You have no land? And very little money? What have you got?”
“These clothes and some others, if my servant hasn’t run off with them. Some presents Lord Olof and Lord Thunrolf gave me.” As soon as I said that about Pouk my conscience started hurting me, so I said, “I’m wronging my servant, Your Grace. He wouldn’t do that, and I ought to learn to keep my mouth shut.”
“Nothing else?”
“A shirt of rings, only it’s torn, Your Grace. We left it at a place in Forcetti, to be fixed. A steel cap. Sword Breaker, my bow, and some arrows.”
“I have his weapons locked away,” Agr told Marder.
“Return them to him whenever he asks, Master Agr.”
“I shall, Your Grace.”
Marder had been studying me. “Should I accept you, you will have no easy time of it, Sir Able.”
“I didn’t come here looking for a bed, Your Grace.”
“You will be sent against my foes. When you return, you will be sent against others. Do you understand me?”
I nodded. “I know what you mean, Your Grace. I was a friend of Sir Ravd’s.”
I saw Marder’s eyes open just a little bit wider. “Were you with him at the end?”
“No, Your Grace. I was just a boy then, but I would have fought for him. I guess I would have died with him, too.”
Marder started to say something else, then bit it back, and I noticed Agr was looking pretty uncomfortable. I said, “He died fighting for you, Your Grace.” Agr cleared his throat.
Marder said, “It has been four years—a long time, I realize, for a man your age. Yesterday you were struck down with the butt of a lance. So I hear.”
“I got knocked in the head, Your Grace. That’s all I know.”
“Sir Ravd was my most trustworthy knight, Sir Able. I thought of him as a son.”
I said that was no surprise to me.
“His squire reported that he himself had his head broken on the field. When he came to himself, he said, wolves were tearing the corpses. Now you say you were a friend of Sir Ravd’s?”
“Yes, I was, Your Grace. I was Sir Ravd’s guide in the forest.” When I had said that, I thought that there probably were other forests, so I added, “Northeast of Irringsmouth.”
“You were not with him when he died?”
“No, Your Grace. I was doing something else.”
“In that case, you must have spoken with someone who informed you of his death. Who was that?”
“No one.” All of a sudden I felt like something had me by the neck. “I found his sword, Your Grace. That’s all. It was broken. We killed some bandits, Your Grace. My dog and I did, and a man named Toug. The broken sword was in with their loot. I saw it and picked it up ...”
“I understand. There were only two of you? You and the man-at-arms that you mentioned?”
“Toug isn’t a man-at-arms, Your Grace. Just a peasant.”
“How many outlaws did you say there were?”
I had not said, and when he asked I was not sure I could remember. I told him that, and I said, “Ulfa counted them, Your Grace. Counted their bodies. She’s Toug’s daughter. I think she said twenty-three.”
Agr snapped, “You expect His Grace to credit that?”
“I’m a knight,” I said. “I wouldn’t lie. Not to him.”
“Pah!”
Marder motioned for him to shut up. “I hoped you might be able to tell me something about Sir Ravd’s death.”
“I’ve told you everything I know, Your Grace.”
“About his squire’s account, too,” Marder said. “He is of an age to be knighted.”
I said, “I think he’s probably telling the truth, Your Grace, but I don’t know.”
“He is Sir Hermad’s squire now. Sir Hermad, I believe, is disabled?” When he said that, Marder looked over at Agr. Agr nodded, looking pretty gloomy.
“Well
then, he can see to his master for a time. It will give him occupation. Since you guided Sir Ravd in the forests of the north, Sir Able, you must have guided Squire Svon likewise.”
I said I had.
“You have no more than that to tell me?”
You can guess what I was tempted to tell then. Only I did not. “Nothing I haven’t said already, Your Grace.”
“You yourself were stunned in the lists. No one told me about the incident,” Marder gave Agr a quick, hard glance, “until I noticed blackened eyes and missing teeth. Not to mention Sir Vidare’s broken nose. I made inquiries.”
Nothing I could think of seemed safe to say.
“You wish to serve me, Sir Able?”
“Yes, Your Grace.” That one was easy.
“Without payment, though you have scarcely a scield.”
“I’ve got some, Your Grace. It isn’t like I don’t have anything.”
“You mentioned a manservant. How will you recompense him?”
“Yes, Your Grace, I did. His name is Pouk. He serves me without payment, Your Grace.”
“I see. Though he may not. Is he blind? Crippled? Lame? A skin disorder, perhaps?”
“Blind in one eye, Your Grace.”
Agr muttered, “And cannot see with the other, I’ll wager.”
“No, sir. Pouk has sharp eyes—a sharp eye, I mean. You and His Grace want to know why he serves me when I can’t pay him, and I’d tell you if I knew. But I don’t.”
“In that case there can be small profit in discussing it. Has Master Agr explained my policy to you? My policy regarding taking knights into my service?”
“No, Your Grace.”
“If the knight is of high repute, I admit him to my service at once. He must swear fealty to me. There is a ceremony.”
“I’ll gladly take that oath, Your Grace.”
“No doubt. When a knight of less reputation offers his fealty, I either reject him outright or accept him informally and provisionally until he has had a chance to prove himself. I will accept you now on those terms, if you wish it.”
I said, “I do, Your Grace. Thank you very much.”
“Kneel!” Agr whispered. “One knee.”
I dropped to one knee and bowed my head. It was sort of like being knighted. “You accept me just to try out, Your Grace, but I accept you as my lord ... my lord—” What threw me off was either Uri or Baki. One of the two was watching us and laughing. Marder and Agr could not hear her, but I could. “My lord and master, even unto death.” That was how I finished it, but it was pretty weak.
“That is well. You have small equipage, Sir Able.”
I got up. “I’m afraid that’s the truth, Your Grace.”
“I intend to send you against my foes, so that you may prove yourself—as I feel sure you will—but for my own honor I cannot and will not send you unarmed.”
“I have heard, Your Grace, that it used to be customary for knights to wait at a bridge and challenge any knight who wanted to get across. If I could do that, I could get armor, a lance, and a good horse. All I need.”
Agr snorted. “Without horse, lance, or shield? You’d be killed.”
I raised my shoulders and let them drop. “Just the same, I’d like to try it.”
Marder said slowly, “I tried it in my youth, Sir Able. I suppose I was about your age. It is no tournament with blunted weapons. I could show you the scars.”
“Well, I haven’t, Your Grace. But I’ve got a scar to show anyway, and a bunch of bruises.”
“I had them too, in my time.”
I said, “I’m sure you did, Your Grace. That was your time, like you just said. Now it’s my turn, and I’d like to try it.”
For a second, Marder frowned at me. The frown faded and he roared with laughter. “From a raw stripling with a broken head!” He nudged Agr. “Want to send those shoulders against the Angrborn? He’d go, I swear!”
Agr nodded gloomily “He would, Your Grace, if you’d give him a horse.”
I said, “On foot, Your Grace, if you will not.”
“Now hear my judgment.” Marder had stopped laughing. This was dead serious. “For a fortnight you are to remain here at Sheerwall to mend. When that time is done, Master Agr will furnish you with whatever you may require. Go to some remote bridge, ford, or mountain pass as you have suggested, and take your stand. Remain at your post until winter—until there is ice in the harbor. When winter has set in, return to tell us how you fared.”
Agr said, “Suppose that he loses his first combat, Your Grace. Everything I give him will be lost as well.”
“Look at his smile, Agr.”
Agr did, although he did not like it much.
“He will be risking his life. We can risk a few horses, some lances, and a hauberk.”
* * *
Pouk came that afternoon, finding me in the Practice Yard watching mock fights with quarterstaffs. He had brought clean clothes. “Tried to fetch along everythin’, sir, only landlord won’t let me ’til he’s paid. Couple o’ nights, an’ tuck.”
“We’ll see about that this afternoon,” I told him. “It’s just out the gate and down the hill.”
“Bit farther nor that, sir.”
“Not much. Before we go, though, I want to get in a bit of jousting practice. Watch, and tell me if it seems to you that I’m doing anything wrong.”
He did; and that afternoon, as we were riding back to Forcetti on borrowed horses, he said, “That’s what knights do, ain’t it? The way you an’ Sir What’s-his-name was riding at each other.”
“Sir Woddet.” I nodded. “Yes, it is.”
“Well, it looks grand, sir, but I don’t see the sense of any of it.” I started to explain, but he interrupted at once. “Say I was on foot. When I seen you comin’ with your long spear—”
“It’s a lance,” I told him.
“An’ your big horse, I’d jump out o’ th’ way, wouldn’t I? I don’t like horses nohow.” He looked down at his own with marked disfavor. “An’ if I was on a good ’un myself, I’d ride around behind.”
“I’m not yet skilled with the lance,” I told him, “but a knight who is will put the point through a swinging ring no bigger than the palm of your hand while riding at full gallop. So if you jump, you’d better jump far.”
Pouk looked dubious.
“As for circling around behind, a well-mounted knight would catch you in the side ten times out of ten. You’d have no chance to defend yourself before you were spitted on his lance. That is, if you and he were alone.”
“I suppose.”
“In battle, there would be a long line of knights riding at you, with another line in back of theirs, if it were King Arnthor’s army. Light horse made up of squires and men-at-arms would guard their flanks, and there would be footmen and archers to guard the wagon-fort. I know all this, you see, because I asked Master Thope the same questions. Knights can be beaten, of course, particularly in the mountains where the enemy can get above them to throw spears and roll down logs. But it’s never easy.”
Pouk nodded slowly. “Aye, sir. I hope you never are, sir.”
“So do I. But I know that there are no safe battles. I hope for honor from Duke Marder, Pouk. Honor and good horses and much more. A manor of my own. Although I can never come to Queen Disiri as an equal, I’d like to narrow the distance between us. Lord Olof told me that queens have wed knights more than once. It’s not unheard-of.”
Pouk shook his head. “I hope you don’t get yourself killed, sir. That’s all.”
“Thank you,” I said, and for a while we rode through the hot spring sunshine in silence. My conscience was bothering me, however, and eventually it made me speak. “Remember what I said about the footmen back at the wagon-fort, Pouk? If you stay with me, you’ll be one of them. You’ll have an ax, a coat of boiled leather, and a steel cap, I hope. More, if I can afford it.”
“No worse ‘n fightin’ them Osterlin’s at sea, sir.”
We were top
ping a rise just then; shading my eyes with my hand I saw a farmhouse in the valley below, a prosperous-looking place I remembered passing on my way to Sheerwall. I said, “There’s a farm with a good well down there, Pouk. We can water the horses, and get a drink ourselves.”
Chapter 35. There Was Ogres
P ouk’s mind was still on the imaginary battle. “If I’m goin’ to be back at th’ wagons, how’m I s’pposed to look out for you? S’ppose you’re th’
’un gets stuck on somebody’s lance, sir? How’m I goin’ to get to you an’ find you in all that?”
“That will be my squire’s task, if I have one.”
“An’ I still don’t think it makes no sense for knights to come at each other the way you do, you an’ Sir—Sir ...”
“Woddet.”
“Aye. You never did hurt th’ other ’un a-tall, just you knocked him off his horse.”
I corrected the record. “He knocked me off mine, Pouk. Three times.”
“Only twice ’twas, sir. That other time—”
“Which makes three. There are half a dozen holes in your argument, Pouk, and I doubt that it’s worth our while to plug them all.”
“If you say so, sir.”
“Besides, we’ll be at the farm before I could do it. But I ought to tell you that I’ve never been in a real battle in which knights fought on horseback. What I’ve said about them, and what I’m about to say about knights fighting, I learned from Sir Ravd, Master Thope, and Sir Woddet. From Master Thope particularly. He’s a regular goldmine of information, and I could listen for hours.”
“Looks a pretty decent place, sir,” Pouk said, regarding the farmhouse. Its mud-and-wattle walls were whitewashed, and its thatch looked new.
“They’re doing better than a lot of people I’ve seen.” I paused, recalling Master Thope’s impassioned growl. “Your complaint is that Sir Woddet and I didn’t actually hurt each other much, much less kill each other. He knocked me off my horse, and once I got lucky and knocked him off his.”
“Aye!” The syllable bore a world of satisfaction.
“The first thing, the main thing you’ve got to get, is that Sir Woddet and I weren’t trying to kill each other, or even trying to hurt each other. In a battle the knights are out to kill one another.”
