by Gene Wolfe
He took his time with that one. Finally he said, “Don’t know.” I was busy pulling off the skin.
“Cook for me?”
“Sure. The whole rabbit if you want it. You caught it, after all.”
From a limb about ten feet up, Mani said, “You might pass that head, if there’s no call for it down there.”
Gylf growled.
I picked the head up by the ears and tossed it into the leaves where Mani could grab it. “Mani’s our friend,” I told Gylf.
He just shook his head.
“I think you’d better get over this business of not talking while he’s around. It’s not like he’s a man or a woman or even one of the Aelf. He’s an animal like you, and he’s heard you already. In fact, you talked to him when I wasn’t there.”
“Right.”
“Thanks.” I rubbed his ears. “You’re the best dog in the world, you know that? You’re my best friend, too.”
From up on the limb, Mani said, “Do you know some Aelf? That sounded like it.”
“Yes, and when we met I thought you might be one. But there was a little sunshine while we were building the fire, and you didn’t dodge it.”
“I’m a cat,” Mani explained.
Gylf curled his lip.
“I get it. Gylf, how about if you tell me what you and Mani were talking about when I came into the cottage? Is it something I ought to know?”
He shook his head until his ears flapped. “Nope!”
“Are you ashamed of what you said? We all say stuff when we’re mad that we’re ashamed of afterward.”
He was quiet.
“We say it,” I said, “but it takes a big dog to admit it.” I felt kind of silly then, but to tell you the truth I would a lot sooner talk to animals than to most people.
“He’s ashamed of having spoken to me,” Mani explained, “exactly as I am ashamed of having spoken to a dog. You will recall the meat you left in front of our fire.”
That reminded me of the rabbits, and I got back to work.
“He was gobbling it,” Mani continued, “when I, being famished, skillfully snatched a piece from under his greedy nose.”
“I see.” I got up to cut a green stick.
“He called me names, dog fashion. Vile epithets. I pointed out that he himself was a mere vagabond who had entered my mistress’s home without the least invitation or exculpation in law. He informed me—I omit his insults—that he was the dog of a noble knight, giving your name.”
I put the rabbit I was going to cook for Gylf on my stick. “I notice that you didn’t try to steal any meat while I was cleaning this.”
“I hope to persuade you to cook some fraction of one of your remaining rabbits for me,” Mani said politely.
“But you’re still eating the head,” I said, positioning the rest of the rabbit over the fire.
“True. I thank you for that.”
“So Gylf gets the first piece. After that, I get a piece, because I’ve never had any yet. But I’ll give you another piece when we’ve gotten ours.”
“I am confident of your generosity.”
“Will you talk when there are other people around? Gylf won’t.”
“Good news! Let them come and silence him.” Mani let the rabbit’s skull fall. “As for me, it will depend on who they are, I suppose. How they feel about cats and so forth. I’ll have to see.” He began to wash his paws.
“So will I. Do you object to a test?”
He did not reply, and I took his silence for agreement. I called, “Uri! Baki! I need you.”
I was expecting one or both to step out of the darkness of the surrounding trees, but neither did.
“Uri! Baki!”
Mani coughed politely. “Yelling like that could bring us unwelcome guests, if I may say it without offense.”
“They’re mad at me for making them stay up here when the sun is out,” I explained. “Sunshine doesn’t really hurt them much unless they stand in it, but they don’t like it.”
“Uri and Baki are of the Aelf, I take it. Watch that meat of ours, please.”
I did.
“Do you really know Aelf? I mean, are you on friendly terms with them? Normally?”
“I’m not as friendly as I’d like to be with one of them,” I said.
Mani wanted me to explain, and I did, a little; but I did not like it, and when he saw I did not he shut up. We cooked the rest of the rabbits, sharing them between the three of us, but there was not a lot said after that.
* * *
There was still rain on the grass when we struck the War Way next morning. Gylf ran in front to show me the way; when Mani was not riding on my shoulder, he trailed behind to stay away from Gylf. Half an hour’s fast walking got us in sight of some pavilions where sleepy servants were tidying up and seeing to a hundred or more horses and mules. A man-at-arms with a partisan stepped into the road to make us stop.
“I’m Sir Able of the High Heart,” I said, “a knight of Sheerwall Castle who’s been lost in this forest. If you’ll lend me a horse, I’ll be very grateful, and I’ll return it as soon as I rejoin my servant, who has my own horses.”
The man-at-arms bawled for his sergeant, a somewhat older man-at-arms who had a steel cap and a hard leather shirt. I explained all over again, and the sergeant said, “You’ll have to ask Master Crol, sir. That your hound?”
“Yes. His name’s Gylf.”
“We seen him last night and tried to catch him, but he give us the slip. Good huntin’ dog?”
“The best.”
“Well, you come along with me, sir.” The sergeant patted Gylf’s head, which Gylf tolerated to show there were no hard feelings. “Had any breakfast?”
I shook my head. “We ate a couple of rabbits last night, and to tell the truth I was really glad to get them. But that was supper for Gylf and me, and for my cat. I didn’t get as much as I wanted, and they didn’t either.”
“You got a cat, sir?” The sergeant looked around without seeing Mani.
“Somewhere.” I could not help smiling. “He’s only invisible at night, so I suppose he’s hiding ’til he finds out if you’re friendly.”
“I ain’t, sir. I’m a dog man, myself. What’s a cat good for anyhow?”
Gylf barked softly.
“Well,” I said, “I talk to mine. You can learn a lot from a cat.”
A servant carried a big tray loaded with steaming food into the nearest pavilion. The sergeant said, “That’ll be breakfast for Master Crol, and them other upper servants, sir. Let’s see if Master Crol wants to talk while eatin’. If he does, maybe you’d get a bite too.”
I said I hoped so.
“Master Crol’s a cat man, I guess. He’s got a dozen back at the castle, anyhow. Might be best if you left the hound with me, sir. I won’t hurt him.”
“I know you wouldn’t,” I told him, “but I’m going to take him with me just the same. If Master Crol objects to him, I’ll walk.”
The sergeant grinned and touched his steel cap. “Wait here, sir. Shouldn’t take long.”
It took quite a bit longer than I hoped, but that gave me a chance to rub Gylf’s ears and look around at the camp, which was big. There had to be close to fifty servants of one kind or another, and a bunch of archers and men-at-arms.
“He’ll see you now, sir,” the sergeant said when he came out. When he was closer, he lowered his voice. “I told him about your dog. He said it was all right.”
The inside of the pavilion was dark after the sunshine outside, but I could see three men eating at a small table. “Good Master Crol?”
The man facing me motioned me to come closer. “You are Sir Able, one of Duke Marder’s knights?”
I said I was.
“Lost? And you’d like something to eat?”
“Most of all, I’d like you to lend me a decent horse,” I said, “but I’d like a bite to eat, too, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“What if it is?”
I c
ould not tell whether he was looking for a fight or making a joke. I said, “Then let me borrow a horse, please, and I’ll be gone.”
He clapped his hands. “We must get you something to sit on, Sir Able. Does that hound eat as much as I think?”
Gylf wagged his tail, so I said, “More.”
“I’ll have them bring something for him.”
One of the other men got up. “I’ve had enough, and had better see to business. You may have my seat, Sir Able, if you want it.”
I said thanks and sat. “I’ve got a cat, too. He seems to be hiding just now.”
“I understand.”
“I’d like a little food for him, too, when I find him.”
A servingman came in, and Crol told him to take away the dirty trencher the other man had been eating from and bring me a clean one. “And bones. With meat on them.”
“I’m Master Papounce,” the man across the table said. “The servants are my charge. Master Egr, who just left, has the baggage train and the muleteers. Sir Garvaon has our men-at-arms and archers.”
Crol added. “They’re in the big pavilion. Can you use that bow?”
It was what Master Agr had asked me once. “I can shoot as well as most men,” I said.
“We might have a match tonight,” Papounce suggested. “Sir Garvaon’s a fine bowman.”
“I’ll be far ahead of you,” I said, “if I can get a horse.”
“That’s up to Master Crol. He’s Lord Beel’s herald, and he’s in charge of everything save Sir Garvaon’s men.”
Crol shook his head. “His Lordship must see him. I—”
Two servingmen came in, one with a clean trencher for me, butter, and a basket of rolls, the other with a big bowl of scraps and bones for Gylf.
When they had gone and Gylf was cracking bones, Crol tugged at his beard. It was a black spade beard, as I could see by then. The face above it looked old enough to make me wonder whether that black was not a dye job. He said, “You are not of noble lineage, Sir Able?”
I shook my head, and tried to explain that our father had run a hardware store; when I saw that was going to get me into more trouble, I said that my brother Bold Berthold had raised me and he had been a peasant.
Papounce asked, “But aren’t you a knight? That’s what we were told.”
“I am,” I said. “I’m a knight in the service of Duke Marder of Sheerwall.”
“My own parents were peasants,” Crol said. “I became a man-at-arms. My father was proud of me, but my brothers were jealous.”
“Bold Berthold would have been proud of me, I know,” I said, “and if he were well, and young again, I would have him in a mail shirt and a steel cap as quick as I could work it. I’ve never known anyone as brave as he was, and he was strong enough to wrestle bulls.”
“You’re strong yourself?” Crol’s teeth gleamed between the black beard and his black mustache.
I shrugged.
He reached across the table. “Let’s see you squeeze my hand while I squeeze yours.”
I missed my grip, and Crol’s hand (bigger even than mine) closed on mine like a vise. I kicked the pain out of my head, if you know what I mean, and I became the storm pounding the cliff Garsecg and I had stood on, wave after wave, with boulders flying in them like Ping-Pong balls.
“Enough.”
I let go.
“If I were Duke Marder, I’d have knighted you myself. What Lord Beel may make of you, I don’t know. Have you had enough to eat? We can go over and see if he and his daughter are up.”
Papounce leaned toward Crol and whispered long enough for me to grab another bite of ham.
“I won’t mention your father or your brother,” Crol told me. “If you didn’t mention them either, that might be wise.”
“I won’t, unless Lord Beel—”
Something big, heavy, and soft hit my lap, and Mani’s head, bigger than my fist, came up over the edge of the table to look at my trencher. I could not help grinning at him, and Crol and Papounce laughed; and then a big black paw put out claws big enough to hook salmon and latched on to the rest of my ham.
Crol said, “We’ll stay a minute or two longer. No harm done.”
“Thanks. I wanted to say that I’m not ashamed of my family. It may hurt me here, like it did in Sheerwall, but nothing anybody says will make me ashamed of them. As for Bold Berthold, I told you about him. I told Sir Ravd once, and his opinion was pretty close to mine.”
Papounce said, “He’s a doughty knight, from what we hear.”
“He’s dead,” I told them. “He died four years ago.” I pushed my little stool back and stood up.
Chapter 48. Too Much Honor
B eel’s pavilion was the richest. The walls and roof were crimson silk, and the ropes were braided silk cords. The poles were turner’s work, of some dark wood that looked purple when the sun hit it. The men-at-arms guarding it saluted Crol as three maids came fluttering out like a little flock of sparrows; the first one was carrying a basin of steaming water, the second one towels, and the third one soap, sponges, and what may have been a bundle of laundry.
“We’ll have to wait a bit,” Crol remarked as one of the men-at-arms rapped a pole; but a servingman with the face of a sly mouse popped out of the door to tell us to come in.
Beel sat at a folding table on which a platter of quail smoked and sputtered; his daughter, a doe-eyed girl about sixteen, sat beside him on a folding chair. She was picking bits from one of the quail.
Beel himself, a middle-aged man so short you noticed it even when he was sitting down, studied Mani, Gylf, and me, smiled just a little, and said, “You bring me a witch knight, I see, Master Crol. Or a wild knight, perhaps. Which is it?”
Crol cleared his throat. “Good morrow, Your Lordship. I trust you slept well.”
Beel nodded.
“I thought it would be better for Sir Able to fetch along his dog and cat, Your Lordship, because Your Lordship was bound to hear about them. Then Your Lordship would have wanted to know why I hadn’t let Your Lordship see them for yourself, and quite right too. If they offend, we can take them away, Your Lordship.”
The thin smile returned as Beel spoke to me. “I usually see no one but my herald with a cat upon his shoulder. It’s a novelty to see somebody else wearing one. Are you as fond of them as Crol is?”
I said, “Of this one, My Lord.”
“Sanity at last. He has a score, I swear. His favorite is white, though, and nothing like the size of that monster. Would he like a bird, do you think?”
Beel held up a quail; and Mani jumped from my shoulder to the tabletop, accepted it with both front paws, made Beel a dignified little bow, leaped from the table to the ground and disappeared behind the tablecloth.
“Witch, wizard, or warlock,” Beel muttered. “Leave us, Master Crol.”
“But, Your Lordship—”
Beel silenced him with a gesture; another sent him hurrying away.
“Is that a glamour, Sir Knight? Are you in fact an aged crone? What form would you show if I were to lash your face with a witch-hazel wand?”
I said, “I don’t know, My Lord. I’m really a boy about your daughter’s age. Maybe you’d see, if you did that. I can’t be sure.”
The smile flickered and died. “I know the feeling. Sir Able, is it? You are a knight? That’s what everyone tells me.”
“Yes, My Lord. I’m Sir Able of the High Heart.”
“Do you wish to travel with us to Jotunland? That’s what I gathered from the man I talked to.”
“No, My Lord. I only want to borrow a horse so I can catch up with my servant.” Just then it struck me that Pouk might have passed them on the road; and I said, “Have you seen him? A young man with a big nose and one eye?”
Beel shook his head. “Suppose I give you a horse, a good one. Will you leave us?”
“At once, My Lord, if you’re willing I should. And I’ll return it as soon as I can.”
“We’re traveling north
, and won’t halt until we reach Utgard. Will you follow us there? To return my horse?”
“I’m going to ride ahead of you,” I explained. “I’m supposed to take my stand at a mountain pass and challenge all comers. Before we engage, I’ll return your horse and thank you.”
Beel’s daughter giggled.
Her father gave her a look that would have shut up almost anybody. “I am on the king’s business, Sir Able.”
I said, “A great honor, My Lord. I envy you.”
“But you’ll fight me just the same?”
“I’m honor bound to do it, My Lord. Or to fight your champion, if you designate one.”
Beel nodded. “I have Sir Garvaon with me, the bravest of my knights and the most skilled. Will he do?”
“No problem, My Lord.”
“When he breaks your head and a few other bones, will you expect us to stay our errand to nurse you?”
I said, “Of course not.”
“You don’t fancy yourself invincible? I ask because I was told you were.”
“No, My Lord. I’ve never said that, and I never would.”
“I didn’t say you said it, only that I had been told you thought it. Yesterday, Sir Garvaon mentioned that one of his men had driven off a crippled beggar.”
He waited for me to talk after he said that, so I said, “I hope he gave him something first.”
“I doubt it. I had Sir Garvaon’s man brought to me. I expect beggars in Kingsdoom, not in the wild, and I asked him what the beggar was doing out here. He’d told Sir Garvaon’s man that he was searching for a most noble knight, Sir Able by name, who had promised to take him into his service. You look surprised.”
I was, and I admitted it.
“Who was this beggar, Sir Able? Have you any notion?” I shook my head.
Beel’s daughter said, “You must have given him a few coins and a kind word once.” Her voice was soft, and it made me think of a guitar that some girl was playing alone in a garden at night.
I waited for her to go on, because I wanted to hear more of it, but she did not. Finally I said, “If I did, My Lady, I’ve forgotten it completely.”
“A noble knight,” Beel said it as if he were talking to himself, although I knew he was not. “My grandfather was His Majesty’s grandfather as well, Sir Able.”
